ねえ 違う未来があったなら
ねえ 少し覗いてみたいな
そっと瞳を閉じれば ?

They were playing on top of a wide hill, paintings left abandoned for the moment to dry on easels. Splatters of paint dirtied the grass, carried by the wind, the latter's rustling not bothering to disguise the yells and laughter from the two not-yet-teenagers playing catch within the strands of green.

The white clothed child had wanted to play House at first, but a splutter and fat blush by the darker black clothed child had made the younger one think otherwise. So now here they were, chasing each other to their hearts' content.

The white child feels a tug and gentle force pulling him backwards, and yelps. He struggles against the breathless "Now you are it!" and "I have caught you!" and flails helplessly, forgetting for a moment that this was a game and the voice was not in fact, an actual threat to his life, an order that he must follow within the confines of his adopted home.

The pretty sister would not be pleased with their keeper when she finds out that the white child had been scolded a bit too harshly again.

Back to the moment though, his flailing and terrified laughs have since brought the attention of the black child, who had his hand timidly grasping the white cloth of his shirt. The black child, now beyond flustered and panicky that he had hurt his friend, tries to release his grip hurriedly. But a pudgy hand smacks him in the midst of the fray, and he finds himself yelling as he tumbles face fist onto the grass, pulling the white child along with him.

Thump!

It takes a while for both children to get their bearings again. The white child blinks, and blinks again. His thumping heart finally slows down, and when the absurdity of the situation finally catches up with him, he finds a bubbling in his chest rising up to exit his throat.

He laughs, startling the black child, who had began to sprout apologies in a sheepish mumbling voice. The black child stares at his laughing friend. One second, two. A soft tender smile spreads on his face as he holds his stare for a moment longer before joining in the merriment of his dear dear friend.

The wind blows, and the easels stand strong. The paint has dried long ago, and now the finished works of two landscape skies -one better than the other- shine under the sun. The white child laughs and finds the hand of the black child. He smiles, a smile that only innocent children are capable of, and squeezes their hands tight.

When Italy wakes up, it is to a hallway of windows. The whole place was illuminated by golden light for as far as his eye could see. Bright light spills into the corridor through the windows, though he could not see any sun or light from outside. The walls were filled with Renaissance era paintings, images of chapels and monuments lost to time while countless nobles sprawled across the ceilings. The painted surfaces reflect and shimmer with soft light, coaxing him out from his stupor and causing him to blink as he looked around frantically.

He is no longer in his bed of soft sheets and fluffy pillows, and Italy is almost sure he is not back in his home, be it in the house he shares with his older brother, or in Italian soil in general. It should scare him, but he only feels strangely calm and a sense of déjà vu.

He has been here before, a voice inside of him whispers. In this place of the past. Yet he doesn't remember ever visiting or ever being in a hallway where paintings from all years of the Renaissance gather. Perhaps, in a dream then? The voice coaxes, and Feli (In dreams there is no such thing as personifications of countries or immortals. There is only him, only Feli.) turns behind to see one part of the hallway cut off.

Now there is only one way forward, and so mustering his courage, Feli walks on. For what can he do? This was a dream, where nothing is fully in his control, and a nagging feeling within him begs himself to pick up the pace. There is a reason you are here after all; there is something you must see.

The light casts pale shadows against his form, and if he closes his eyes, Feli thinks that he can feel the warmth of the comforting brightness on him. The hallway continues on, seemingly never ending, and Feli takes this time to observe the paintings and decor of the spiralling pillars and windows. Just when he had become too absorbed with staring at a group of naked flying cherubs (painted on in such a way that they mirrored his trail down the hall), the walls made an abrupt curve outwards, curling in and ending together to form a circular wide alcove.

A lone antique mirror situated right in the middle of the floor is the only significant object in the room. Feli takes one look at it, and tilts his head, expecting the walls and ceiling above to be filled with art, vibrant and dark like the church that Michelangelo had once slaved over. Funnily enough, the walls were bare, not one mark to be seen.

Huffing in disappointment (well, at least he can feel emotions in this dream), Feli turned his sights back to mirror, noting how the light that streamed through the windows around the room landed specifically on the mirror, bathing it in a golden aura. It was almost suspicious how much his subconscious wanted him to get close to it.

One step, then two. Feli takes nine more steps before he is in front of the mirror. Up close the large antique was larger than he had initially thought. He can see markings carved into the thick ivory sides. Words in Latin and old ancient languages, but words he is unable to decipher because his dream deemed it so. Thick heavy drapes covered part of the mirror so his stretches his hand to push them away. The heavy fabric falls and he is left to stare at the mirror's full glory.

Glass painstakingly cut in an oblong circle gleamed under the light, blindingly beautiful to look at. The mirror had aged gracefully, but it looked just like any ordinary mirror, albeit a classy aristocrat one. There was nothing special to it. Or is there? The voice whispers gleefully, and Feli shushes for it to shut up. His reflection stares back at him, blinking, and mimicking his every action. Slowly, he presses the tip of his fingertips against the glass and watches the surface shimmer.

...shimmer?

Panic seizes him and he pulls back hurriedly, stumbling back a few steps as the mirror's surface rippled. His reflection stares at him, smiling now and moving of its own accord. It waves at him, mouth forming the word hello before smiling sadly. A smile that spoke of sorrow and regret. Feli could only watch dumbly as his reflection faded, and the mirror's surface morphed to show a body of water.

As though as he was in a trance, he could only move closer to the antique object. The inside of the mirror beckoned to him, and before he knew it, he had spread his palms and laid them on the smooth cool surface, forgetting that he would cause smudges on the smooth surface later on.

The mirror surface remained stubbornly firm, even though he can feel the ripples and see bubbles of air within the water on the other side. The body of water shrinks, and Feli sees the beginning of a grassy coast. A lake?

Watch closer, the voice sighs sadly this time, and by instinct Feli feels his head tilting to the left to land on the highest corner of the mirror. There were... figures, no people, by the water's edge. One white and one-

Feli inhales, and feels his breath catch. It couldn't be. After so long, and it was a dream too. His heartbeat quickens and pangs, a surge of childhood promises, fun and nostalgia flooding his veins. His lips curl up to from a giant grin (and he doesn't remember the last time when he has ever felt so happy by just a simple sight), so then, why does he feel the urge to cry as well?

He does not know how long he stood there after that, watching himself and the black child (Holy Ro-do not say his name. If you do, you won't be able to hold the tears back) frolic and play by the lake through the looking glass, splashing water and laughing like innocent young children.

He does not understand. Why this dream? Why now?

Against his will, a single tear escapes from each of his eyes, sliding down his cheeks before dripping on the floor. Like a dam, his emotions burst and he slips down to the floor of the room, crying. Images flash in his mind, and he becomes aware of why he feels the déjà vu. This wasn't the first time. There had been plenty of times, plenty of the same dreams. Only, he never remembers them when he wakes up.

His reflection watches him sob, the pitying smile still on its lips. It shifts its translucent body to watch the happy, young duo sharing bliss together in the other world, and sighs.

"It's not fair." Choked sobs come from the huddled ball shaking in front of the giant mirror, and the reflection bends down to regard its owner. "It's not fair." The ragged whispers come again, stronger this time, angrier, and more cracked with tears.

"HE DIDN'T HAVE TO DI-" The sentence is abruptly cut off, and other Feli could only watch dolefully as his real self shook and trembled and whimpered miserably.

You cannot keep coming back here. There it is; that voice in his head that he is sure does not belong to him. You must not return to this past.

"Why do you care? You are not me. You don't know him, how I felt for him."

I do. I am you after all. Slowly Feli looks up to see his reflection staring at him. I would offer you my hand if I could, but I'm stuck in this mirror. Other Feli shrugs sadly, before standing up. You must learn to let go.

"I don't know how." Feli stands up slowly, wiping his tears and snot away. His eyes find the white and black children again, and he sees them walking back together into the grass and trees away from the lake. The mirror does not follow after them, and Feli is left to watch them disappear from his view.

His chest pangs, and he winces at the ache in his heart, more tears sliding down his cheeks. His reflection coaxes him forward until his chest brushes against the glass, before pressing its hands against the area over his heart. A soothing sensation enters him, and Feli immediately feels serene. The sadness and pain was draining away, leaving only a numbing tingle and faint throbbing.

But I do, and I am part of you. Other Feli stares at him determinedly, and Feli feels a deep deep part of him crack, letting lose a vapour of long buried fears and 'if only's. Fears of regret, of not giving him the best slice of cake and pasta countless of times, of not being more courageous and of always running away from him, of allowing his friend to go off for war, of not realising sooner, of not saying a proper goodbye.

If only things were different, if only there was no war, if only they could have lived happily ever after with their big sister in their keeper's manor, if only their days would go on happily forever. His heart clenches in the moment and a muddled thought enters his mind; if only he could go back in tim-Stop. The vapour dissipates.

Feli opens his eyes in confusion to see his reflection staring at him grimly. No more thinking about what ifs and the past. Stop blaming us. He would not have want that. I would not (never) want that. It must have been his head, because Feli swears he hears the voice of his childhood friend though the voice in his head. Or maybe it was just his dream again.

Just like that, Feli blinks once, then twice, clearing the glaze from his eyes before finally noticing his reflection looking at him worriedly on the other side of the mirror. His mind feels oddly clear now, albeit dizzy from his sobs. Strange, dreams weren't supposed to feel this real.

Through the mirror glass, the black child had reappeared from behind a tree. He looked like he was looking for something on the ground. Feli pushes down the urge to cry and watches the child search. He tries to smile, conjuring up a happy image of another black clothed child from another time. It works, and he is pleasantly surprised at the genuine curl of his lips.

As he continues watching, the white child appears from behind a bush, hurrying over to the black child, baby hands flying in a frenzied manner, picking his friend's hands from the ground and shaking his head. "Will they ever have to go though our heartbreak?" His voice comes out, muffled and suddenly sounding so very tired.

History will never change. At least, not that of the past, regardless of parallel worlds. An alternate world maybe, but even then.. The voice says nothing more.

"Is this just a dream?"

I wouldn't know. I am you after all. Is this a dream to you? Other Feli stares at Feli silently, mouth unmoving. Yes, Feli thinks, but this was a dream that had happened many times before, and one that was subconsciously trying to tell him something, a dream that felt so real. Across the looking glass, both children have turned to stare at something across the lake, more specifically, at his direction.

Feli feels his heart thump when blue eyes looked directly at him. This time, he feels nothing but nostalgia and a faint longing. He understands now. Holy Roman Empire is long gone, but he still has his brother, and the Axis, his big sister and ex keeper. He has a life in front of him, a future. His life does not belong with the blue eyed child on the other side of the mirror. Not anymore.

He looks away and focuses on the other him in the mirror. Other Feli stares back at him, gaze expectant and awaiting. Ready whenever you are.

Feli takes a deep breath and turns the mirror over.

大好きだよ 大好きなんだ - 別の世界 幸せな二人を
I really like you, I liked you so much; The happy couple from the parallel world

羨んでも 戻れないんだ - そろそろここから 歩きださなくちゃ

I envy them, yet I can't turn back; Unless I keep walking slowly from here

There were ripples in the middle of the lake, too big to be caused by fish but too small to have been naturally caused by wind. The white child watches the lake pulsing with energy curiously, before promptly creasing in an instant. Beside him, the black child who had stood mesmerised by the same sight made a startled noise and jumped a little, prompting a giggle from him.

The latter flushes in mortification and embarrassment, immediately yelling denials of never being nervous. There goes his moment to look cool and heroic in front of the very person he wanted to impress.

I'm sorry, he apologies over and over again. No matter how much he ruffled through the dirt and leaf litter, he could not find the lost handkerchief that belonged to his friend. The white child shakes his head and grabs the child's hands, now streaked with dirt, ignoring the worried mumbles of "You will get dirty too."

It is alright, thinks the white child as he uses part of his cotton apron to wipe the dirt off. However, the black child would not be persuaded when the white child pulled his hand towards the patch of grass in the direction where their keeper and sister sat sipping tea and eating sandwiches.

The black child shakes his head as he pulls away, causing the white child to stare at him in bewilderment, before resuming to search. He halts however, face turning red and heart beating quick as tiny arms wrap around him, shaking slightly as they clung on, too short to wrap around his frame fully. Hesitantly he relaxes, trying to pry the hands off him, stuttering words in embarrassment.

It takes many promises of giving up the search before the white child lets go. They held hands as they walked amiably back the way they came from, one smiling and the other too flustered to speak. The white child knows that he is being selfish, knows that he shouldn't had manipulated his friend that way, but he cannot help himself. He doesn't want the black child to get hurt because of him.

There is silence for a while before the white child feels his hand being squeezed. He looks to the side and sees the black child looking away, refusing to meet his eyes. His face was a bright shade of red, and the white child can't help but laugh in mirth.

The moment is perfect, and he hopes that they can spend these happy days forever.

When Italy wakes up, it is in his bedroom. The curtains are drawn, but a tiny sliver of sunlight still slips through. It is morning now; too early for him to be awake, but strangely he doesn't mind. The dream is already fading in his mind, the details slipping away like water in his hands until only the image of a mirror remains.

Still, he remembers. Unlike the previous times, the important details stays with him, and for now, that is enough. His tear tracks are proof of that. Italy casts the dream away and pulls the covers off him. Perhaps he could wake up earlier today. He could cook breakfast for his older brother, maybe visit Germany and Japan later, have some tea with Hungary...

He could do something different for a change. After all, this wasn't the past anymore.

He smiles, and somewhere, on the other end of the universe, a child in black (except he is now no longer a child-years do make a difference, even in the afterlife) dangles his legs over a rock on a hill and finds the urge to laugh.

大好きだよ でもさよなら - 私が選んだ この世界を愛せるように

I really like you, but it's goodbye for us. I have chosen this world, so I can love it again.

A/N

I never did believed the Germany is HRE theory. At most, they are two souls that shared the same body. Black and white children because of their clothes' colour schemes.

I'm giving out free hugs to readers if anyone needs them due to the amount of sad. Don't cry guys, I will just collect your tears to make more sad anyway.

This piece was inspired by a song of the same name. Parallel World by Hatsune Miku, a vocaloid, produced by Nem. Please do have a listen. It broke my heart.