A/N: An interesting prompt I found on the kink meme; this probably was not the expected response, but I wanted to try it out. Basically, HRE comes back for one night, in Germany's body, and reunites with Italy.

Disclaimer: Hetalia Axis Powers and all characters belong to Hidekaz Himaruya

A Proper Farewell

Lethargy consumes the senses, draining the last of the energy away. Spent on the final, feeble attempts to hold onto existence; all meaningless at this point. Defeat meant death in this world. Cruel as this is, it is the law that will be upheld. Beat or be beaten; step on others or get trampled.

Battle wounds cover the entirety, acting as seals of fate, brought upon by hatred, greed, betrayal. War is never pretty, but it reveals a part that is hidden inside all. The easiest method to dispose those unwanted, the fastest way to ensure dominance.

Pure white tainted by the stain of red. All consumed by an everlasting black…

Yet, glints of light sparkled at him from far above; hopeful messengers that suggest that there is more than emptiness. Blinking his eyes, he realized that he was staring at the sky; what he could not distinguish before he now knew as stars. Strange, for the last he remembered it was still day.

More importantly, his mind was disorientated. Where exactly was he? What was this place? Answers are never blunt, but they hinted that it was a place that should not be feared, that should not be held with skepticism. A comfort he had never felt before was now in his heart. He did not know the specifics, but he knew that he was where he belonged.

So wrapped in his thoughts, he did not noticed that someone was calling him until the person was right in front. Hiding his surprise, he looked over the newcomer with a discerning eye, choosing to use prudence to decide between friend and foe. He looked harmless enough; lanky body, closed eyes, fair complexion, short brown hair, long brown curl…

"Sorry I'm late! I had to go back home and grab the ingredients, but I promise that dinner will be ready in a few minutes! I just need to use your kitchen and…is there something on my face?"

He furrowed his brows slightly, more out of confusion than anger. "I'm sorry, but I think you have the wrong person."

"Aw, don't be like that Germany." The other laughed at what he assumed was a joke. "You know that I'm Italy."

For a moment, he was dumbstruck. The Italy he knew was a cute girl in a maid's dress, not a young boy who looked as if he just hit puberty. He wanted to believe that it was a prank from one of his rivals, but instinct told him that this idea was not plausible. But if what this man says is true then what about the Italy he knew?

Italy normally found it difficult to read the atmosphere, but tonight he knew that there was something wrong with Germany. Not in appearance, for he still looked like Germany; no, it was the mannerism that was different. Reaching over, Italy placed a hand on the taller nation's forehead.

"Are you feeling alright? Did you hit your head?"

Unused to others' touch, he flinched away from the hand, though he did not move far when he saw the other become distressed. "I'm fine. It's just that…I'm a little confused right now."

"Well, let me make you some pasta. I'm sure that'll fix everything."

So this Italy enjoyed pasta too. "I doubt that'll be sufficient, because I still think you're looking for someone else."

It was Italy's turn to be confused. "But…you're Germany, right?"

"I may have some of Germania's blood running through my veins, but I assure you that I'm not 'Germany'."

"But, you look just like him…If you're not Germany, then who are you?"

The real question: why was it so strenuous to recall his own identity? "I haven't had to say it for some time. Most people recognized me just by seeing me…but…I believe," a sudden elucidation, "ah that's right. I was known as Holy Roman Empire."

Silence hung between them, so long that awkwardness soon accompanied, but then something happened, an event so infrequent that it was considered a miracle; Italy opened his eyes. Those caramel-colored eyes filled with shock, followed by joy, ended with sorrow. The bag he was holding plummeted to the ground as he stepped closer. Italy admitted that the more he stared into Germany's…no…Holy Rome's eyes, the more he remembered the feelings from the past. The same intensity, but the same kindness, all mixed with nostalgia.

Tearing away from the gaze, Italy avoided the other's eyes and mumbled softly. "France told me that…he defeated you…"

Holy Rome blinked at the statement. "Ah, I guess that did happen. I do remember losing in a number of battles…"

"He also said that you disappeared…that you…"

"But I'm right here."

Italy closed his eyes again before looking back up, though drops of tears could be seen at the ends. "Then where have you been all this time? Where have you been for the past three hundred years?"

Three hundred years; that was how long he had been wandering in the darkness, in that hopeless abyss with no escape, a place one could not find in the physical realm. Time had blended so much that he had to ignore it. In fact, he had been numb to everything, even his own mind. But the force that was behind the accusation, it was the same conviction he saw when he was told to not be like Rome. With a resigned sigh, Holy Rome closed his eyes and gave an apologetic smile.

"It's been that long. I guess you could say that I really did disappear…"

Italy realized that he was allowing the frustration to control his actions. No, he could not let this opportunity escape when it was so close in his hands. Taking a deep breath, he attempted to become calm again.

"I've always wanted to ask you. I wanted to hear it firsthand. What really happened?"

Holy Rome shook his head. "I'm afraid I don't know the answer to that question. Perhaps the shock of revelation was the cause of departure."

"So, France really did…" The sentence trailed off; Italy could not say the words.

Holy Rome gave a wry smile. "If only that was true."

"Wait, so he didn't?"

"Rest assured, it was France who gave the final blow, but…"

"But what?"

"Things never went the way they should."

"Why are you doing this? We were supposed to live under one house! We were supposed to be on the same side!"

"I'm not sure if I understand."

"We may live in the same house, but we can't always be on the same side. If you exist, I'll never be given the chance to expand. I'll never be able to rise to power."

"Let's just say that trust is extremely fragile."

"So you're choosing betrayal? If he wins now, you won't have a chance to rise to power."

"Was the person close to you?"

"I know he'll leave eventually, and once that happens I will have no trouble spreading the new empire."

"Close enough to be a brother…"

"You're a fool, Prussia."

Italy could feel the tears forming in his eyes again. "So you were betrayed by someone you trusted…"

Holy Rome saw the emotions threatening to overtake the smaller nation and cleared his throat. "Don't worry about it. It's a part of war, and it's not too unusual an occurrence." Italy was obviously not convinced, so he decided to change the subject. "I always thought you were a girl…because you were…in a dress and your voice…"

Italy simply nodded; if he spoke now, he knew that the dam holding back his emotions would break. Holy Rome shifted uncomfortably on his feet, unsure of how to continue. Finally, a thought came into mind.

"You know, I never said goodbye, did I? It's something that was always in my thoughts, even when I was gone. It was the only regret I had." Without waiting for a reply, Holy Rome stepped forward and embraced the smaller nation. His strong arms wrapped around the back, drawing Italy close to his chest.

Surprised at first, Italy gradually brought his own arms around the broad back, though there was no way he reached as high. The dam had broken, and the tears flowed freely, soaking into the stiff uniform. The pain that had accumulated over the years, the pain that had eventually been locked away, was finally brought to the surface. Every emotion that had been kept inside was set free, his soul laid bare. Throughout all this, Holy Rome continued to hold the crying nation, never relaxing his grip.

"Do you…think differently of me…now that you know…I'm a guy?"

Holy Rome simply smiled and rested his chin in the mass of hair. "Thanks for remembering me, even after all these years. Thanks, Feliciano."

The small gasp was muffled by the clothes, but the shock was replaced with a sense of guilt. "I never asked you for your human name."

"Probably because you thought it was enough to call me Holy Rome, though I see no harm in telling you now. To my people I was the Holy Roman Empire, but to my loved ones I was Ludwig.".

By the time Italy wrapped this around his head, he realized that the hold loosened slightly, and a puzzled voice entered his ears. "Italy? What's the matter?"

He pulled himself closer, the wet fabric clinging to his face. "No, please, just a bit longer."

There was no reply. But the arms around him, the warmth that surrounded him, remained in place for the rest of the night.