I started writing this story at like 2 am, got 400 words or so down, then procrastinated for the rest of the day until I managed to finish chapter 1 in the evening. Great. Well, today I'm going to be celebrating my 21st fic by digging up my own grave and falling into this abysmal hole that is writing a multi-chaptered story. This is like the third time ever that I'll be writing a multi-chaptered fic, and it's my first actual AU to boot. This story is going to be set somewhat in the 1920s, with painter!Italy and amnesiac!reluctant-model!Germany. Haha.

It's been like a month since my last fanfic, I apologize for the delay and lack of updates but there was a brief period of drama that had to happen in my life this break... Anyway, I'm not yet that familiar/comfortable with writing for Germany and Italy, but hey, it wouldn't hurt to try, right? I hope I was able to make this first chapter decent, and hopefully all the future chapters to come. No beta for me this time 'round, since he's busy with school atm. If this doesn't please you, I apologize from the bottom of my heart.

Please do R&R! Favorites are great, and reviews mean the world to me. Love you guys! Happy reading!

Disclaimer/s: I don't own Hetalia. Nor do I own the cover picture. And this title which was nabbed off the 30kisses prompt list on lj. :))

The first thing that wakes Feliciano Vargas on that warm Sunday afternoon in the middle of April was not the sound of chirping birds or the music blaring from his old, nearly-antique radio set; neither was it the voice of his angry, older brother scolding him in Italian for falling asleep on the couch, for getting paint on the wooden floor, for sleeping past breakfast, or simply for everything altogether. Rather, it was the sound of a patient knocking on his apartment door, a shuffling of papers that resounded in the hallway, and a deep voice questioning whether or not somebody was home.

"Si! Si! Just wait, please. I'm coming," he calls out to his visitor as he rises blearily from the leather sofa, rubbing away the remnants of his sleep, grains of morning glory that rested at the corners of his eyelids. Porcelain white skin running through thick auburn tresses, he smoothens out his bedhead hair.

"Ciao! May I help you?"

"Good day to you, Mr. Vargas," the tall man hovers over the young Italian, greeting him politely as he clears his throat, expression slightly flustered. "I'm here in place of my brother, Gilbert Beilschmidt…"

"What? Gil? Ve! What happened to poor Gil? Is he sick?"

"No. No, it's nothing of the sort, Mr. Vargas. He just had some business to attend to back in Berlin. He called me this morning and gave me this address, and told me to come over in his stead…"

For a moment, Feliciano is left puzzled. He tilts his head to the side, a quizzical look plastered on his face. Gilbert had a brother? Why was his brother here? And what sort of business did he have to do with Gilbert again today? Hmm… He rests his fingers onto his temples, squinting his eyes in deep thought as he allowed his thoughts to come together in a slow click.

"Ah! So you're the new model for today, si?"

"M-model?" the German stutters in surprise. "I'm sorry, Mr. Vargas, I wasn't-"

"Ve, it isn't that hard! You just have to sit still and let me paint you. Oh, but don't worry, we can take it easy. If you start to feel uncomfortable, like if your back starts to ache or your neck starts to hurt or something like that, just let me know and we can take a break when you need it. I won't cut it from your pay or anything of that sort. Is that okay?"

"Ja, thank you for accommodating me into your schedule, Mr. Vargas…"

"Not at all," he smiles. "I should be the one thanking you. Now, please, there's no need for such formalities, signore …?"

"Ludwig. Ludwig Beilschmidt, sir."

"Ve~ Well, Ludwig – mind if I call you that? – come on in and make yourself at home. I'll just fix up my studio, and then we can start. Give me ten minutes."

The younger gives a nod and promptly follows the artist into his apartment, tucking the papers back into his suitcase, ears attuning themselves to the jazzy tune that played from the aging stereo set. He sets his things onto the floor, folding the blanket neatly aside before seating himself onto the leather couch nearby.

-x-

Ludwig takes a deep breath and props his shoulder onto his thighs, resting his head onto his palm, fingers curling halfway to a clenched fist. Only thirty minutes in to their first painting session, and his joints were already starting to hurt. Nonetheless, he says nothing and feigns indifference. All he had to do was flash a pose, hold still, and let the artist do as he pleased. It wasn't exactly easy, but then again, there were a lot more jobs that were more difficult than this one, and this had been a request given to him by his big bruder. He didn't want to let anyone down. Surely, Ludwig could handle something like this.

"Ve~ Are you sure you're alright over there?" the artist calls out to him from behind the easel, concern riding on bright amber orbs that peeked from over the edge of the canvas.

A soft grunt. "Ja. I'm alright. Carry on, Mr. Vargas."

"Okay… I'm just doing the base sketch for today… Hey, wait, could you face the other side? Tilt your head a little to the left, to my left – er, I mean, to your right, …. no, more to the center...left…uh, a little higher? Yes! There. Perfect. Hold still for just a little longer, per favore."

The blonde follows the artist's instructions accordingly, and they carry on with this for the next two and a half hours. He changes his position ever so slightly every ten minutes, following suit to the artist's every whim and request. This was just the "base sketch" as he had heard Feliciano say, the framework and main foundation of his masterpiece. It was understandable that an artist like he would be very particular about such details. Ludwig understands this, and although he couldn't stop the tired sighs that he would constantly emit every now and then, not once would he ever allow even a single complaint escape his lips.

"Ludwig, move your head to the left again, please. Now, turn this way. Okay."

He sets his gaze onto the view outside the artist's window, blue sky mirrored in the sea of his cerulean irises. The ticking of the clock lulls him to a sleepy daze, torpor creeping onto his aching limbs. He let his eyelids flutter to a close for a brief moment, vision blurring to a hazy black, contentment settling in. His head lolls over to the side, sleep overcoming him briefly.

The artist chuckles at the sight of this scene, lead smearing his fingertips as he sets his things aside. The clattering sound of pencils is enough to wake the model, and his head shoots back up, almost immediately, eyes snapping open in momentary panic.

"Ah! Entschuldigen sie! I am sorry, Mr. Vargas." Ludwig blurts out an apology in shame, readjusting his position back to the last.

"Va bene. Please don't worry about it. You're tired, aren't you, Ludwig? Let's take a break and call it a day, si? Would you care to join me for my merenda?" Feliciano asks him, his smile warm and forgiving, his tone even and inviting.

Ludwig shakes his head, throwing a glance at his wristwatch as he casts an apologetic look towards the artist. "No, there is no need, Mr. Vargas. I'm afraid that I must take my leave and return home now, before the last train departs. I am terribly sorry for the bother. Nun…Auf Wiedersehen, Mr. Vargas." He bows politely and leaves to gather his things.

"Will you come again tomorrow?" Feliciano takes his lead and follows suit, an unsteady hand gripping onto the hem of his shirt. He hides it behind his back as he faces the German, praying that the slight waver in voice will remain unnoticed.

"Yes, Mr. Vargas. Will three o'clock be fine?"

"Ve~ Of course it is!"

"Alright. Thank you, Mr. Vargas."

"See you then, Ludwig."

"Yes, Mr. Vargas. See you."

He turns the knob and holds the door open for his guest, features softening with relief at the sound of the younger's reply. The German tips his hat in a courteous gesture, grabbing his suitcase and setting foot into the hallway, departing from the apartment in medium-paced steps.

The timbre of a voice calls out to him once more, and the German is forced to stop in his tracks, turning his head to let his eyes fall onto its short-statured owner.

"Oh, and Ludwig?"

"Ja?"

The artist smiles. "Feliciano's just fine."

So...how was it? Please let me know what you think by leaving a review! Have a nice day!

Translations:

[Italian]

Si - Yes

Ciao - Hello

Va bene - It's okay/alright

signore - Sir

per favore - please

merenda - snack time (I think)

[German]

Ja - Yes

bruder - brother

Entschuldigen sie - Excuse me

Nun…Auf Wiedersehen - Well...goodbye