Prussia dragged his younger brother into the house. He was being dead weight, not moving a muscle as Prussia dragged him through the house. "Verdammt…West…you need…to move…your ass…" he grunted as he dragged him off toward his room, Canada following behind him. "…Come…on…you arschloch…"

Germany didn't hear him. He couldn't breathe. It was like days earlier, when he'd learned Italy loved someone else. It hurt just as much. Maybe more, since now he knew Italy just would never love him back. Even when he was the person Italy had loved so much as a child, he still would never love him back...

Suddenly, Germany wrenched his arm away from his brother. Prussia paused as Germany strode into his room and slammed the door shut. "Wait, West, what're you doing?" He asked. Germany didn't answer. Prussia sighed. "Do you want to talk about it…?"

"No."

Prussia paused and sighed again. "Listen, maybe there was some sort of miscommunication," he insisted. "Maybe he thought you said something completely different. O-Or maybe he needed some time to let it sink in, and he'll come running back here tomorrow so the two of you could f—"

"Prussia, go away."

Prussia paused again. He glanced over at Canada. Canada frowned and leaned over to the door. "Prussia's right, Germany. He probably just got confused or something. You know how Italy is. Tomorrow the two of you could talk it out and—"

"I'm sorry, who're you again?"

Canada froze for a second. Then he turned away. "O-Oh. I-I…I really thought you'd remembered this time…" he mumbled, then walked away.

Prussia looked from Canada to the door. He scowled at his brother, who he knew was standing right inside of the door. "Hey, I know you're upset but you don't have to take it out on us…" He turned and walked after Canada.

Germany ignored him and went to curl up on his bed. He shut his eyes tightly, trying desperately to ignore the sharp pain in his chest. Why? He wondered weakly. Did I do something wrong? Am I just unlovable or something…?

He laid there for a while. Then, finally, he rolled over, buried his face in his pillow, and willed himself unconscious, ignoring the tears on his face.

…

…

"West…West…come on, snap out of it…" Prussia mumbled, waving his hand in front of Germany's face. "West…" He frowned. He picked up his chair, walked next to his brother, sat it down, and grabbed the corners of Germany's mouth, forcing him into a smile.

Germany's head jerked back. "What? Huh?" He blinked groggily, looking up at his brother. He shook his head. "Sorry, I didn't know you were talking to me…" he mumbled.

"Ja, I noticed that," Prussia replied. He handed Germany some food. "Eat."

Germany sighed. "Right. Sure." He took a sleepy bite and went back to staring blankly into space.

Prussia scowled at him after they sat there for another minute. He waved his hand in front of his face. "West…"

Germany jumped again. "E-Err, sorry, what?"

Prussia reached out and flicked the side of his brother's head. "Come on, West," Prussia said, annoyed. "It's been two days. Either call him or stop thinking about it so much." He held out a phone.

Germany glanced away. "Call who? I have no idea of what you're talking about," he muttered.

Prussia rolled his eyes. "You know very well who I'm talking about." He held out the phone again. Germany didn't look up. Prussia scowled. "Now who's the one avoiding his problems?"

"I learn from the best," Germany replied.

They sat there for a little while longer. Prussia set the phone down in front of Germany. Germany pushed it back. "Prussia, leave me alone. I already apologized to Canada, and I really don't want to call…" He trailed off. "…I don't want to know why Italy doesn't love me…"

Prussia sighed. "Well, you'll need to talk to him at some point," he muttered.

Ding Dong

Prussia glanced up. He grinned. "See West! That's probably Italy right now, here to declare his love for you and beg you to take him and—"

"Prussia, it's probably just France or something. Shut up and leave me alone."

Prussia frowned. "Fine, but when Italy comes in and starts kissing you—"

"Just go!" Germany growled.

Prussia rolled his eyes and strode into the next room. Germany sat there for a moment, trying not to listen in. Best not to get my hopes up, he decided. No way that it'd be Italy…

There was shouting from the other room. A loud thud. More yelling. Germany glanced up, startled. "The hell…?" he murmured, confused.

Prussia walked in, his face white, a large bruise already forming on his eye. "U-Um, I was almost right," he stammered.

Romano walked in after him. He held up a gun toward Germany. "You. Get in the car."

Germany rolled his eyes. "For God's sake, Romano, just because you have a gun full of marbles—"

BANG BANG

Germany yelped and ducked as Romano fired into the air. Romano lowered the gun again. "Get in the car," he repeated darkly.

Germany stared at him for a second. Then he stood up. "Oh mein Gott is that real—?"

"Get in the car."

"B-But I—"

"Get in the car."

"This is completely insane—"

"Get in the car."

Germany quickly walked passed Romano and Prussia. "A-Alright, alright, I'm going to the car…" Germany murmured nervously, holding up his hands. He walked outside and climbed into the red sports car parked in his driveway.

Romano sat down next to him and grabbed the wheel. "Right. Let's go." He pulled out of Germany's driveway with a loud screech and sped off.

Germany nervously gripped the seat. To be honest, he was more frightened of Romano's driving skills than the gun that he'd… the gun that he'd just set down next to him…

Germany swiped the gun. "Ha! Take me back or—"

"The gun is full of blanks."

Germany blinked. He looked down at the gun. "What the hell?" He asked, opening the chamber of the gun. "Okay, you just kidnapped me with an unloaded gun because…?"

Romano's grip tightened around the wheel, as if he were imagining it was Germany's throat. "Because my fratello has been locked in his room for the past two days," he answered quietly. "He won't come out, or eat, or move, or anything." Romano glared at him. "What exactly did you do to him?"

Germany stared at him. He might be an ass, he might be rude, and he may've just kidnapped Germany with an unloaded gun, but he still cared about his brother. Germany thought about something for a moment. "Err, why did you need to kidnap me to ask?"

Romano rolled his eyes. "Bastard. I don't have any people skills..."

"Right," Germany muttered. He sighed. "He's alright though, right?" Germany asked after another second. "Italy is alright?"

"You never answered me. Answer my question, damn it."

Germany rolled his eyes. "Or what—?"

Romano swerved the car with another screech and sped through a red light, cutting three people off, then turned abruptly, causing the car to go up on two wheels and passing dangerously close to the curb before straightening out and continuing a hundred miles down the street.

Romano glanced over at Germany, who was clinging to the seat and digging his nails into the leather. "Sorry, you say something, potato bastard?" He asked.

"N-N-No," Germany whimpered slightly.

"Thought not," Romano said with a smirk. "So tell me what you did to my brother."

Germany shook his head. "I-I don't know what I did wrong. I wasn't supposed to upset him this much…" He paused.

Romano glared at him. "What the hell did you do to him?"

Germany sighed. "I…I told him that I used to be the Holy Roman Empire."

Romano froze. He turned toward Germany, looking furious. "You told him what?" He asked quietly.

"R-Romano, please look at the road—"

"You complete and total DICK!" Romano shouted furiously. "You WHAT?" He turned back toward the road and skidded around another street corner. Germany yelped and grabbed the seat again, desperately wishing that the car had seatbelts. "You wanna know what my fratello told me as soon as he got home?" Romano asked slowly.

Germany looked up at him. "Ja, what?"

"He told me that the Holy Roman Empire didn't love him anymore."

Germany froze. "W-What?" He asked slowly. He turned away, his mind racing.

Romano glared at him. "You know what?" He muttered. He slammed on the breaks and jolted roughly to a stop. Germany yelped and fell forward, almost falling out of the seat. Romano unlocked the car door. "Get out."

Germany blinked. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me. Get the hell out of my car you pathetic bastard."

Germany sat up slightly. "What? Why?" He protested, feeling confused and angry.

Romano's glare got angrier. "I was going to make you apologize to my brother," he growled, "but you don't even deserve to do that. Get out of my car. Now."

Germany sat there for a moment, stunned. Then he shook his head. "No. I need to talk to your brother."

"Why the f*cking hell would I let you get anywhere near my brother?" Romano snapped, giving Germany another hateful glare. "You are an evil manipulative son of a bitch and I'm not letting you get near my brother ever again!"

Germany shook his head. "I need to see him! Please Romano!"

"Why? So you can break his heart a third time?" Romano hissed. "You do not give a shit about my brother. You just want to keep manipulating him. Get the hell out of my car or I load this gun and splatter your brains." He turned to grab his gun.

Germany took a deep breath. "Romano, I love your brother."

Romano blinked. He looked over at Germany. "…Che cazzo?" He turned toward Germany, astonished. Then his eyes narrowed. "The f*ck you talking about?" He muttered suspiciously.

Germany looked closely at him. "Romano, I am in love with your brother," he said. "I really am. I've been trying to figure out how to tell his for the past week, but I just...I love him so much Romano. Please..." He trailed off, realizing how stupid he must sound to Romano.

Romano stared at him for a second. Then looked away, confused. Then looked back at him. "You…" He turned away again. Then back. "W…Wha…?" He slumped forward slightly, thinking hard. They sat there silently.

Finally Romano looked up at the road, looking extremely annoyed. He slowly pressed down on the gas pedal. Germany stared at him, confused. Then Romano glanced at him. "You better make your apology good, damn it," he murmured darkly.

Germany stared at him. "Wha…r…really?" He stammered. Romano ignored him and kept driving. Germany blinked a few times. He leaned back in his chair. "R…Really?" He asked again. "You…You're being serious…?"

"Shut up before I change my mind, bastard," Romano muttered.

Germany turned to stare out the window. "W-Wow, danke Roma—"

"Shut up. I still hate your guts."

Germany sighed slightly. "Right."

"And if you try anything on him, I'll shoot you."

"Uh, sure—"

"Or if you touch him. Touch him and I hurt you. Or make him cry ever again. I'll shoot you for that too. Or if you do anything. Anything at all, and I shoot you."

Germany nodded. "Right."

"…and if you tell anyone about this conversation, I'll make you wish you were dead."

Germany rolled his eyes. "Right, fine," he replied.

They drove for another hour, Romano narrowly avoiding several collisions. When they reached Italy, it was mid afternoon. Romano parked and unlocked the door. "Now get out. My car is gonna smell like potatoes for weeks…" he complained.

Germany rolled his eyes again and walked up to the front door. He opened it slowly and looked around. It was eerily quiet. He took a deep breath and walked slowly toward the stairs.

At the top of the stairs, he heard someone talking. "…you sure you don't want any pasta, Italy?" Spain pleaded at the door. "¿Por favor? Necesitas comer. Italia, por favor…" Spain knocked softly on the door. "Italy, what about gelato? Te gusta gelato…"

"Spain."

Spain looked up. He looked worried. He gave him a weak smile. "Germany!" He strode over and grabbed his shoulder. "You should go talk to Italy. Please."

Germany nodded. "Right… Give me a minute." He turned, walked down the stairs, and into the kitchen. He grabbed some gelato, scooped it into a bowl, and walked back toward Italy's room. He slipped silently past Spain and Romano, who were speaking softly to each other in Spanish. Germany had no idea what they were saying, but they seemed to be comforting each other. Romano caught his eye for a second, then went back to ignoring him with a scowl.

When Germany slipped into the room, Italy was sleeping soundly on the bed. He still had wet streaks down the sides of his face and his hair and clothes were disheveled.

Germany crept over next to him and placed his hand on Italy's head. "Italy…" he whispered gently. He moved his hand to Italy's cheek, wiping away a tear. "Italy, wake up."

Italy mumbled sleepily and shifted away. Germany bent down and tousled Italy's hair. "Italy, wake up. I have some gelato for you." He placed the bowl on the table next to Italy's bed. He turned back toward Italy and sat down next to him. "Italy…"

Italy groaned slightly. For a second, Germany thought he was still asleep. Until Italy mumbled his name.

"…Germany…?"

Germany swallowed, already feeling his face getting warmer. "…Hello…Italy…" he replied softly. He had no idea how Italy could be so cute…

"G…Germany," Italy mumbled again, slowly sitting up. Germany reached forward and helped him up. Italy looked up at him, his bleary eyes half closed. "Germany, what're you doing here?" He asked sleepily.

"I'm here to talk to you," Germany replied, ruffling Italy's hair again. "I heard you weren't feeling well."

Italy's face turned bright red at Germany's touch. He looked away quickly. "O-Oh, well I-I feel fine, s-so it's okay. You can go now…i-if you want, I mean…" he mumbled, shifting nervously and staring at the floor.

Germany smiled slightly. "Well, I guess I could stay here," he murmured. "Oh, I brought you some gelato." He motioned toward the bowl.

Italy swallowed nervously, then glanced down. "Ve, I'm not really hungry—"

His stomach growled loudly. Germany and Italy both looked down at his stomach. Italy sat there silently. After a moment, he grabbed the bowl and started eating a few bites. "Grazie Germany," he mumbled.

Germany nodded. "You're welcome." He paused for a few minutes as Italy slowly finished up his gelato. After Italy set the bowl down, Germany murmured, "Listen, Italy, there's something I want to talk to you about."

"C-Can I go first?" Italy stammered quickly.

Germany glanced up at him. "Ja, sure," he replied, slightly confused. "What's wrong?"

Italy glanced up at him, then looked away. "W-Well I was…I'm sorry about leaving the other night. I…I just thought…" Italy looked shyly up at him. "We…we can still be friends, right?" Germany raised an eyebrow. Italy looked away again. "I-I mean…I just…n-never mind," he finished.

Germany furrowed his brows. "Italy, what do you mean?"

"W-W-Well I-I just thought…b-because Germany doesn't …d-doesn't like me how…how I like him…" He shut his eyes, turning away so Germany couldn't see the tears streaming down his face now. "…b-but I just…I just want us to stay friends…" He sniffled and started trying to wipe the tears away. "S-So we could still be friends, right Germa—?"

Germany cut him off with a hug. Italy froze and looked up at him, startled. "Italy, don't cry…" Germany mumbled, rubbing Italy's back. Italy leaned against his chest, wiping his face again. Germany swallowed nervously. "Listen, Italy…I have something I need to say too."

Italy glanced up at him. "Huh?" He murmured.

Germany stared at him for a moment. "Italy, I…" He trailed off, feeling his pulse speeding up rapidly. "Italy…I…"

"Germany, is something wrong?"

Germany took a deep breath. He held Italy closer, feeling Italy's pulse pounding like a rabbit's. Or was that his own heartbeat? "Italy…" he whispered softly, "…I've…I've always loved you."

Italy looked up, startled. "What?" He asked slowly.

Germany didn't move. He held his breath, waiting for some kind of response. Finally he felt Italy pulling away slightly. He let go. Italy stared up at him, his eyes wide. "W…What're you talking about, Germany?" He asked.

Germany swallowed. "I love you Italy," he replied. "I-I love you."

Italy sat there, looking confused. He looked at the floor. "I-I…No, that's not…" He looked back up at Germany. "…Why are you making fun of me…?" he murmured, tears starting to pour again.

Germany grimaced."N-Nein, Italy, I'm not…"

"Romano s-said you would," he sobbed weakly, turning away again. "T-That you d-don't really like me a-and you think I-I'm stupid and annoying and…and I'm weak and pathetic and…"

"Romano said all that?" Germany asked.

Italy shrugged. "J-Just the first part," he mumbled. "B-But it's obvious why Germany w-wouldn't like me. I'm annoying and lazy and I can't do anything and… W-Why would you like someone like me?" He started crying harder.

Germany shrugged. "Well, I can't imagine why you would like someone like me," he murmured. He leaned forward and wrapped Italy in another hug. "But here we are."

Italy looked up at him, still looking confused.

Germany shut his eyes tightly. He leaned forward, then softly brushed his lips against Italy's.

Italy stiffened, his face practically glowing red. For a few seconds, he couldn't remember how to breathe. Finally, he murmured, "Germany…?"

Germany swallowed. "I…I do love you, Italy," he whispered, still holding him close. "I…" A strange thought passed through his mind, almost like a faint whisper. Softly, Germany murmured, "I've loved you since the 900s…"

Italy stared at him, his face turning redder, his eyes wide. Tears started forming in the corners of his eyes. He started smiling. Then he leaned closer and shyly pressed his lips against the side of Germany's mouth.

Germany turned and pressed his own lips against Italy's. He shut his eyes tightly and tangled his hand in Italy's soft hair, his other rubbing Italy's back. I…I'm dead, Germany told himself. I'm dead, and this is heaven…

Italy felt like he was melting. He leaned against Germany, feeling large hands running through his hair. After a while, Germany pulled back, staring at the small Italian looking back at him. Italy was smiling happily. "G-Germany…I-I love you too," he stammered. "Ti amo."

Germany smiled back and kissed Italy's forehead. Italy giggled slightly and snuggled against Germany. Germany sighed contently, shutting his eyes and pulling Italy close. Italy loved him back. Italy actually loved him back. Everything just felt…perfect. "Ich liebe dich, Italien," Germany murmured, rubbing Italy's shoulder. "Ich liebe dich…"

The two both fell asleep, lying in each other's arms.

The End

Well, that's it. I finally finished a fan fic! Thank you all so much for the reviews, for sticking with me until the end, and just for being the best people ever! I love all of you guys! Thank you so much!

Jeez, I don't know what I'm gonna do all summer, now that this is finished. Huh.

que cazzo ~ the f*ck?

Por favor ~ please

Necesitas comer ~ you need to eat

Te gusta gelato ~ you like gelato

One extra nthing, when a gun is loaded with blanks, it doesn't fire, but it makes the noise like it does. Germany thought the gun was loaded. Sorry if anyone was confused by that.

You can read my crack Hetalia fic if you guys want, or one of my other fics *wink wink nudge nudge*. I'll probably start writing another one at some point, maybe Spamano or something. Well, see you!