(Note: Read the "Buon San Valentino" strip to understand this. I imagine this as a continuation of sorts.)
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Feliciano's earliest memories are slowly blurring, a thin glass pressed between him and the earliest times that he still remembers. What remains most is voices, sounds, and pictures, still frames, and he can't recall the feelings that he went through- except one scene, one thing that time can't erase, that stands so clear in his mind- every detail and every feeling he had then, ever place the wind blew gently against his dress, the very exact position where he stood during his last minutes with Holy Roman Empire.
Holy Roman Empire- he didn't even ask for his name, but that doesn't matter, because they were both themselves and knew who the other were and they didn't need names for each other, because they were just themselves.
That glass that separates him from the very accuracy of his memories thickens with time, but that moment, those little minutes will follow him forever, and he will remember it like he remembered nothing else from his childhood- except, possibly, Holy Roman Empire himself.
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Ludwig's memories, on the other hand, are sharp and clear to him. He remembers and knows what he needs to remembers, and that is that. He knows who he is and remembers himself for as long as he was himse- as long as he was Germany.
He just doesn't remember what he was before.
And he knows he was something. Because he remember as clearly as anything, waking up one day and knowing who he was. But he wasn't born that way- nobody is born that way, and he wondered, once it dawned on him who he is, what he was before that?
But he didn't question it. There were more important things to do, and besides, It's not in his nature.
But he knew, deep inside, that there was a feeling, and he knew that he was someone else, someone before he was Germany, and that his memories are buried deep, deep in the ocean of his mind, where he just can't reach them even though he delves and dives as deep as he can.
The only thing he remembers of his previous self is a hazy blur of colors, white and brown and sky blue, and the dull grey colors that surround it.
It's the only thing that he can still dig up, that doesn't blur and disappear to the back of his mind the moment it suddenly appears.
But, now, as he is exploding with emotions from the inside, feeling so unfamiliar yet he can recognize them from somewhere before- they push him into the ocean that is his previous memories, completely break the wall to let him dive and take all this memories back- sharp scenes flow into his mind, little pictures and still frames become scenes, facts, memories- and as they play in front of him, there is nothing he can stare at as much as Feliciano's face as he grips his shoulders.
(There was this one scene…)
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There is a child standing in front of him. He knows who she is. He knows that she is just as Italy as he is Holy Roman Empire. He knows nothing as much of her, not even her name but doesn't quite care because he knows who she is and how much he loves her.
His attention is focused on the bouquet in her hands, of deep red flowers. He finds himself fighting the blush that is building up, and tries to smile gently instead, tries to tell her how much he-
But he is quiet when he takes the bouquet. "H-Holy Roman E-Empiire…?" She gives a small smile the quickly turns into the same small, sad expression as before.
He walks off, sees her face, and could do nothing but regret not at least smiling to her.
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And there was another. He remembers it more vivid and stronger than all of them- remembers them like he can live them again when he wants too.
This was his happiest memory. And his last happy memory from his previous self.
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"Ever since the 900's-"
Italy was slightly pink on her cheeks, and as sweet and innocent as ever, and as he got closer, he could see her open her eyes for one moment- they were large and brown and soft-
"I've always loved you."
And then he kissed her, carefully, not being able to look at her face.
More than anything, he remembered the tears that rolled down his cheeks, mixed with the endless feeling of happiness and hope and love when he tells her, as he walks off, "No matter how many hundreds of year go by, I'll always love you more than anyone in the world!"
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And then came memories that were as unpleasant as painful as the happiest ones were wonderful, and as vivid and sharp, and he tried to block them, tried not to think about them, to let them remain somewhere closer than the back of his mind, but for the facts to stay.
And then it ended.
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Everything dawned on him.
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(Italy. Oh, god, Italy. I missed you. I missed you so much. I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Back then, the last thing I remember is knowing that I'm shattering and that I'm going to forget this and nothing hit me as much as knowing that I won't be seeing your face, seeing you greet me with a little sweets plate like you promised and like I looked forward to seeing you, seeing you again like you were. Nothing was as bad as then because I love you so much. But I'm here again. I'm myself and everyone I ever was, Italy, and I love you again and again and I always will. Why didn't you tell me you were a boy? Or did you not just know I thought you were a girl? Oh, we loved each other so much and we hardly knew each other. And it didn't matter. I'm glad I got to know you the second time. I love you, Italy, and I'm as happy as I was then. I hope you remember me. I hope you remember that day.)
(This wasn't a proper reunion, but who cares? I'm happy. So happy. So happy that I can tell you I've never felt like this. Nobody ever gave me so much unconditional friendship and love and comfort as you did. Ever since I remember myself, from the day I knew myself even before I was Germany, there was nothing but war and business and politics, of hatred and purely personal welfare and tension. You're different and you may be useless, and maybe incompetent, and even if you were completely stupid, I wouldn't care because there is not one nation who can love life as much as you. You're not a warrior, not a fighter, but even if you were, things wouldn't be quite the same because you balance it all. I'll say it again and again and again even you can't hear this, Italy, I-)
Ludwig hugged Feliciano again, overcome with millions of emotions both unfamiliar and familiar to him. He didn't speak, he had nothing to say, nothing that can quite express what he was feeling. And he wondered how he would tell it all to Feliciano later, that he was his childhood friend (and first love too, for a few minutes at least that brought to all this), and wondered what Feliciano must've experienced back then.
He felt Feliciano's hand run through his back and his shirt. Feliciano looked at him, with no particular expression that he could read, one that didn't even reach hollow- it was a small, confused smile, or at least, an attempt at one.
"Germany." His smile grew. "And here I was, wondering why you were being weird…you know, I was going to say something longer, buut, mmm, hey, should I call you by name now that we're going to be together?" His smile lit up, and it was as warm and real as ever. "Ludwig," he said, almost teasingly.
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"Italy…" Ludwig said softly, and bent to whisper into Feliciano's ear, "Ever since the 900's, I…"
(He felt Feliciano jolt slightly-)
"…I've always loved you," He said, lying his head against the Italian's shoulder.
A moment of silence, a long pause, a breath came from Feliciano, then, with a broken voice "Oh Ludwig, enough surprises for one day…"
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That night, Feliciano, who sat in front of Ludwig calmly before, cried everything that he's been holding in for so much- and his sadness was not with a pout and lacked the childlikeness that he showed- he simply let the tears spill while he groped Ludwig's shirt with a broken smile.
"…Italy, I-" Ludwig began as he patted Feliciano slightly on the head.
"N-no, you can call me Feliciano now," His partner looked up, tears rolling down his cheeks, with a soft smile, "After all, we never really got to -know each other's names back then, did we?..."
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"Hey, Ludwig? Remember when we…"
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(Fin)
ETA: Woah, 25 faves? I love you guys. You commenteers over at LJ, too. The last thing I expected is that this story would actually get such a reception. It's nowhere near famous, sure (and I'm cool with that), but still, this is kind of flattering. Thank you, all of you!