This piece is a sequel to my other pieces, "Presence" and "Fear," both of which describe the death of Northern Italy. You don't have to read them to understand the story. Also, I'm not a historian. None of this was written with historical accuracy in mind.

"And I'd choose you; in a hundred lifetimes, in a hundred worlds, in any version of reality, I'd find you and I'd choose you."
―Kiersten White

It had been one year since Feliciano's death, and Ludwig was drinking.

It was nothing out of the ordinary for him, he was German after all, and having a pint of beer every now and again was a part of his culture.

This however, was probably overdoing it.

It was his fifteenth beer. He'd been sitting still at the kitchen table, back straight as a board, a neutral expression on his face the entire time. It was only once he'd finished the pint that he lost the façade.

What followed was pure insanity. He stood, knocked down the chair as he did so, and immediately moved to the counter, sliding all of the empty bottles and glasses there onto the floor in a single, violent action. They shattered, glass dug itself into his feet, and then his knees and he fell to the ground, vomiting.

Ludwig gazed at the blood that streamed down his cut hands. Memories that he'd been blocking out for a year hit him like a freight train. Suddenly Feliciano was lying in his arms, a bloody mess, missing parts of his head. There was a nine millimeter not far from him, just slipping out of the man's right hand as he hit the ground, dead.

He screamed, cried, and shouted in choked German throughout all of it. He felt his brother next to him tugging on his arm, but he pushed him away and clung tighter to Feliciano's corpse.

None of this is real, he had told himself. It was all a dream.

It was the day that Romano was scheduled to be dissolved. Italy only needed one representative, and when that conclusion was made the older of the Vargas brothers was more than willing to die in his brother's place. Part of him wondered how on earth someone could be alright with dying prematurely, but at the same time he was thankful for it. Feliciano would be upset for many years, but he'd be alive, and that's really all the German wanted.

It was a surprise to everyone when he pulled a gun from his pocket. Ludwig had realized what was happening much sooner than anyone else, but even he was too late. The gun was already at his temple, and then he pulled the trigger.

"Oh Germany, please don't blame yourself."

"That must have been terrible. I'm so sorry."

"He wasn't in his right mind. This isn't your fault."

He turned and let his back hit the pantry door, not caring that his feet still stung with the glass pricking their soles, not caring that he'd vomited on himself, that there was beer everywhere, that he'd broken some of his favorite glasses.

Ludwig slowly brought his knees up towards his chest, resting his chin on them as the tears began to fall. He'd been holding them back for so long that it was a relief.

"This isn't your fault."

It was though- he'd noticed that Feliciano was acting strange that morning, but passed it off as grief. Never in a million years had he expected this, had he even had the slightest inkling that Feliciano would be able to think of committing such an act, let alone carry it out.

More tears fell as he began to shake. He should have realized what was happening. He should have noticed that one of his guns was missing. He should have stopped it hours before it happened.

But he didn't.

He continued to cry for what felt like hours. Every part of him ached. All he wanted to do was sleep, and he was thankful when his wish was granted just as the sun came up.

Nineteen years had passed since that night, nineteen years since Gilbert had walked into Ludwig's home to find his brother bleeding and ill on his kitchen floor, surrounded by broken glass and beer. It had been nineteen years since he'd cleaned him up and painstakingly took out each shard of glass, then sent his brother to bed without a word, cleaning the kitchen floor with shaking hands.

In the time that passed Gilbert had taken precautions around the anniversary of Feliciano's death, he'd show up to his house the day before, carrying with him some books, board games and an extra set of clothes. They'd drink that entire day, playing board games or talking or simply watching TV, anything to keep his brother distracted. On the next day the process would repeat itself, and on the next day it would as well, until Gilbert had deemed Ludwig to be in such a state that he could be left alone again.

This year however, he suggested something different.

"Let's go out, West!" he said, placing his bag of items on the couch beside him. "There an awesome new bar on-"

"No." Ludwig said.

The Prussian frowned. "What? Why not?"

"I don't want to go out right now."

Gilbert shook his head vigorously. "Look, bruder, I'm trying to distract you. It's been twenty years. You don't need to hurt yourself like this anymore."

Ludwig opened his mouth to speak but Gilbert was quick to interrupt him. "How about this, we'll just try it out. We can go for an hour and if you don't like it we'll come back here and drink ourselves silly just like we usually do."

"I…" Ludwig paused, trailing off. His eyes were distant as he folded his arms across his chest.

"Please, West." He said softly. "He wouldn't have wanted this."

Ludwig could only be thankful that his brother hadn't invited anyone along with them. Though they managed to sit and talk for a good twenty minutes, Gilbert was soon distracted by their waitress, smiling and flirting every chance he got. The girl responded in kind, leaving Ludwig to sit quietly, his mind wandering.

The act itself was dangerous on a day like today, but he couldn't help it. It was the only time of year he'd allowed himself to relive it, to sit through every detail of that day, to hurt all over again, if only because it kept him from doing so the rest of the year.

Had it really been twenty years since Feliciano's death? He shook his head. It had felt like a hundred years to him. While time passed differently for nations, months going by like hours and decades going by like days, it seemed that it was different for him now. Everything was slower, was more detailed and stimulating than he wanted it to be. He wondered if that was what it was like to be human, and suddenly felt sorry for all of the people on earth.

He sipped absentmindedly at his drink. It was definitely good, and if it were any other day of the year he'd have the heart to enjoy it. He made a mental note to visit the bar in a few months, when this bad day was only a memory.

The waitress brought another round of drinks, smiling at Gilbert's compliment. She then turned to him and spoke, and it took Ludwig a moment to realize that she was trying to talk to him.

"There's no way you two don't have girlfriends." She said, "You're just too cute."

At this Gilbert grinned widely, a blush on his cheeks. "No sweetie, I'm a free man. For now." He said, adding a wink for emphasis.

The waitress giggled, then turned to Ludwig. "What about you honey? Do you have someone at home?"

He could feel his brother cringe next to him. "No." he said, knowing how cold he sounded.

The minute the girl turned her back he stood.

"Where are you going?" Gilbert asked, grabbing his arm. Ludwig took a deep breath.

"I just need to step outside for a minute."

At that his brother nodded, and let go. "Don't be long."

The chilly spring air felt good as he exited the bar. He leaned against the wall, taking several deep breaths in an effort to calm himself. He reminded himself that acting out wouldn't solve anything, that he'd already tried solving his problems with breaking things, and it hadn't worked out too well.

Once he'd sufficiently calmed himself Ludwig began to scan the street. He was in a safer part of Berlin, where the majority of the population was families and the elderly. He saw friends laughing and couples holding hands, some of which had children. There were two elderly men playing chess across the street, laughing and joking. They smiled kindly when a passerby bumped into the chess table.

"Mi dispiace! Mi dispiace... Ve, I forgot I'm in Germany. Es tut... Es tut...."

Time stood still.

Ludwig didn't like figures of speech. They always set out to make things more complicated than they needed to be, always supplying more emotion than was necessary. The term fit however. The moment he looked up at the sound of that voice, hours had gone by. People remained frozen in place, the clouds motionless against the sunset, all noise dimmed. He couldn't have moved if he'd wanted to. Everything was gray.

Except for the man across the street.

He wore a simple blue jacket and jeans. His face was rosy from the chill air that swept through this time of night. Small and unimposing, his skin was tan and his voice held a heavy Italian accent. One hand held the handle of a travel suitcase while the other scratched the back of his head sheepishly. His hair was auburn, it was cut short and- he felt his breath catch. He didn't trust his eyes. There was a random curl sticking out from the side of his head.

Ludwig blinked once, twice, time speeding up with each one until it finally passed at its regular pace. He still couldn't move, remaining frozen as he watched the scene that played out in front of him.

"Es tut…" the Italian mumbled, still trying to remember the correct words.

"Es tut mir Leid" one of the old men supplied, and he nodded, repeating the term with a heavy accent broken in.

The chess players laughed. "No need to hurt yourself, boy." One said, "This is Berlin after all, most of us speak English as well as Deutsche."

"Ve, I'm sorry!" he apologized. "I've only been here for a few hours. I've never really been quick to learn."

"Are you an immigrant? A tourist?"

"No… well yes. I don't know." The Italian smiled again. "I'm just here until the end of the summer. I'm staying with my aunt. She's sick right now. I have her address but I can't find her home." Suddenly his voice took on a desperate, worried tone, and something in Ludwig clicked, and he could move again.

"Germany, help!"

"Germany, I can't tie my shoe laces."

"Germany, I'm scared!"

Instinct had taken over as he crossed the street. Looking back he was glad there was no traffic. He was paying little attention to his surroundings, his focus solely on the Italian who needed his help.

"I can help you find her address." Ludwig said, coming to stop as the man turned around. His heart stopped and sped up all at once. His pulse pounded in his fingertips where his hand was outstretched, waiting for the smaller man to take it as he always did, lean on him as he always did, be with him as he always did.

He looked at the hand, then at the German. His head tilted to the side in a questioning manner. "Have we met before?"

Ludwig tried to keep himself from showing just how wounded he was at the words. This had happened to him before, he'd seen someone who resembled Feliciano and he'd gone after then, only to have them turn around and not know how he was.

But oh God, this time was different. There was that wild curl in his hair, which was parted and cut in the same manner it had always been. His eyes were the same amber, there was the same blush dusting his cheeks, he had the same vocal tic. It simply had to be him.

"I'm Ludwig." He breathed, hoping beyond hope that he would be recognized.

The man before him blinked, scratching his chin. "I don't remember that name, but your face looks familiar. How do we know each other?"

The words hurt; they left him stinging as if he'd been slapped. He wanted to crumble to the ground, to cry and sob and curse the world and it's unfairness. What had he done to deserve any of this? He'd already lost Feliciano once, and now he had found him, only to be hit with the crushing realization that no, he was wrong. It was an exact replica of the person who had been everything to him, one that didn't even know him.

"I'm sorry." He said quietly, pressing a hand to his forehead in the hope of calming himself. There was no need to make a scene in front of this innocent stranger. "I must be mistaken."

"No." the Italian insisted, taking a step closer to peer up at him. "I know you from somewhere. I just don't know where." He then shrugged, taking the hand that Ludwig hadn't realized he was still holding out. "Oh well, you can still help me find my aunt's house- Ve? Maybe we'll remember on the way there.

He could only nod, staring down at the scribbled on paper the Italian handed to him, his mind barely registered the address. All he could think about was the hand that was in his. It was warm, dry and fit comfortably into his own. It was just as it had always been.

"I know where that is." The German confirmed, slipping the paper into his pocket. "It's a walk though. Do you want to call a taxi?"

"That's okay." The man said, wearing the same wide, toothy grin he always wore. It hurt him and healed him at the same time, all the while Ludwig wondered how on earth it was possible for one person to have this effect on him.

"I like walking." He continued. "My name is Feliciano, by the way. You said yours is Ludwig, right?"

"Right." He said, taking the Italian's suitcase with a trembling hand. Of course his name was Feliciano. The doubt in his mind had all but slipped away.

He started off at a slow, ambling pace that was the opposite of his usual walking speed. He couldn't bring himself to care however, at this point all he wanted to do was drag this out, to relish the company of the little, babbling Italian at his side whose hand was just as soft and lovely as it had always been. He briefly wondered if this was a dream.

"Maybe we met in Italy." Feliciano suggested. "I'm from Siena, but I spent time in Rome too. Did you go to any of those places?"

"I have been to Rome." Ludwig said.

"Ve- then it must have been there!" he exclaimed, running a hand through his hair as to push his bangs out of his face. It was then that Ludwig noticed the circular red spot on the Italian's temple.

"What is that?" he asked before he could stop himself. Feliciano looked up at him, and when he realized what the question was directed at he said:

"It's a birthmark."

"A birthmark…"

Then Ludwig covered his mouth and looked away, trying to keep his expression neutral. This wasn't a dream, it couldn't be. That excited and terrified him at the same time.

He'd heard stories from other, older nations. Once a country died they were reincarnated into a human. They looked exactly the same, but had been granted and extra life. They were given the blessing of living and dying as mortals.

The stories had never mentioned a birthmark where the nation had died, but he supposed that was because most nations were simply dissolved. Most didn't die in the way Feliciano had.

He cut the thought off there. So this was Feliciano then- only a mortal version. He'd only thought that the older nation's stories were just that, stories. But now…

"Do you have any restaurants here that serve pasta?" Feliciano asked, his eyes glancing around the street. "Not that I don't like German food, but I've never really had German food. All of the names sound scary. Not to mention that pasta is always good. You can't really go wrong there."

A soft smile painted itself onto Ludwig's lips. He'd believe the older country's stories, if only to make him feel better about his choice to walk this man home, and whatever came after.

"We don't have many Italian restaurants." He explained. "I can take you to a restaurant, then you won't have to worry about ordering the wrong thing. If you want to- that is."

Then the smaller man grinned. "I've only known you for five minutes and you're already asking me out." He said, "I'm flattered."

The German felt himself blush. "Nein, it's not like that." He suddenly felt shy. This may be Feliciano, but he didn't remember the life they'd shared in the past. He had to keep himself in line as to not scare him away.

"Oh," the Italian said with a pout. "Are you sure? I would have said yes."

He started. "Really? You can't like me that much, not yet."

Feliciano laughed. "Silly German, if I didn't like you I would have stopped holding your hand already."

Ludwig glanced down at where their hands were connected between them. He hadn't questioned the action at all. This was just natural for them, even after twenty years.

They turned the street corner. It was dusk now, and people were heading home. Most of those they passed didn't spare them a second glance, that or they would give a small smile. He wondered if any of them could tell that the two had only known each other for a few minutes.

"Ve, we shouldn't go out tonight. I need to get to my aunt's house." Feliciano said, "But maybe tomorrow? I would like to see you again."

His heartbeat increased, and he wondered how after twenty years the man still elicited the same reactions from him.

"Yes." He said automatically. "Tomorrow morning."

"Morning?" Feliciano asked, giving him a surprised look.

Ludwig pinched the bridge of his nose. Had he completely lost his filter? Of course it would look strange to request seeing the man at such an early time, but he couldn't help it. He needed to spend as much time as possible with him, as soon as possible.

"Sorry," he said, "We don't have to go in the morning, you must be tired from your flight."

The Italian smiled up at him. "Oh no, it's not that! It's just that I might need time to settle in. We can go somewhere for lunch, if you want to."

"I want to." He said, trying to keep his tone neutral.

They reached Feliciano's destination all too soon, coming to a stop in front of one of the older, more rustic apartment complexes in Berlin.

"This should be it." Ludwig said, bracing himself for the Italian to pull away. He tried to keep the disappointment he felt from appearing on his features when he felt the smaller hand slip out of his.

However, it only took a moment for Feliciano to stand on the tips of his toes and press a kiss to his cheek. "Thank you Ludwig. I probably would have stayed lost if you hadn't helped me, then I would have died, and then my grandpa would be angry with me."

Ludwig smiled, touching his cheek where the Italian had kissed him. Even his dramatic tendencies had remained.

"Okay, goodnight!" Feliciano said, moving away from him and towards the building, suitcase in hand.

Without fail, Ludwig had cried once per year, and it was always on the anniversary of Feliciano's death. This year was no exception, though his tears were for a much different reason.

He returned home to Gilbert frantically calling the police.

"What do you mean you can't send anybody to look right now? Who cares if it's only been a few hours? He missing and-" he turned at the sound of footsteps into the living room, and let out a sigh of relief when he saw Ludwig standing there.

He hung up quickly and approached his brother, his face stern. "What the fuck was that, Ludwig? You just left! What happened?"

Suddenly the man stopped, staring incredulously up at his younger brother.

Ludwig was smiling.

"What…"

"He's back, bruder." Ludwig said. "Feliciano is back."

Gilbert shook his head, "Mein Gott. You've had too much to drink. You need to go to bed-"

"No." he said, his voice quiet yet firm. "I talked to him. I walked him home. If that man wasn't Feliciano, then I don't know who is."

"West…" Gilbert trailed off. "I know that it was a traumatic experience. I know that you miss him, but-"

"Do you remember what the older nations would tell us about reincarnation?" Ludwig asked, his voice now pleading. He was Feliciano. He had to be.

"Those are just fables." He exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air in exasperation.

"How would you know?" Ludwig pressed, feeling desperate. "How would anyone know? There are billions of people in the world. It's not like we could ever find a reincarnated nation."

When Gilbert responded with one of his rare bouts of silence, he continued.

"Bruder, I have never lied once in my entire life. I wouldn't joke about this. I'm dead serious."

Gilbert picked up his bag and headed to the door, not meeting his brother's eyes. Ludwig's mind raced, looking for anything to latch on to, anything to reason with him.

"We're going out for lunch tomorrow. We can stop by your place and you can see for yourself."

He paused and turned around. His eyes were watery, and in that moment Ludwig realized that maybe he hadn't been the only one who missed Feliciano.

"Fine, come by whenever." He turned towards the door, though stopped before he could reach it and said, "I really want to believe you, West. I do."

Ludwig yawned as he ordered coffee that afternoon. He and his date were both tired. Though Feliciano was suffering from jetlag, Ludwig had simply stayed up for the majority of the night before, worried that he'd fall asleep and wake up to find it was all a dream.

"This coffee is sweeter than what I'm used to." Feliciano said, taking a sip. "You Germans really do like your sugar." He took another sip, closing his eyes with a small smile on his lips. "I guess it'll pass."

They were on their way to Gilbert's, though Ludwig hadn't explained that to Feliciano yet. He was still searching his mind for an excuse to visit his brother.

"I don't know how you can walk around without a jacket." Feliciano said, wrapping an arm around himself. "It's freezing."

"I left my jacket at my brother's house, it's nearby if you want to stop and get it." The statement was half true, he'd been missing his jacket for months now, but he didn't know where it had gone. He wouldn't be surprised however, if Gilbert was the culprit.

"Ve- how sweet of you! You're such a gentleman, Ludwig."

He fought away a blush as the man leaned against him, grinning widely. For a moment he could convince himself that nothing had changed, that twenty years hadn't passed, that this was the same man he'd found in an empty tomato crate, the same one who became his first friend, the same one he'd fallen in love with.

It seemed that Gilbert was waiting for them, because the moment he knocked on the door it opened, only to reveal his brother standing stiff, his eyes wide in shock.

"Italy?"

"Wow, you're good!" Feliciano said. "I didn't even say anything and you knew where I was from."

The brothers exchanged a glance; Ludwig tried to keep his face neutral while he spoke with his eyes.

Tell me this isn't him.

Gilbert invited them in and offered Feliciano a drink, to which the Italian politely accepted. Part of Ludwig was glad that he wasn't nearly as flirtatious as he had been with the man all of those years ago. He didn't know how he'd handle any threat to Feliciano, no matter how small.

"You have my jacket, right?" he asked, and Gilbert stared at him for a moment before he nodded in understanding.

"It's in my bedroom, let me go grab it."

Ludwig followed him, glad that the Italian was content to remain in his seat, tapping his fingers against the counter as he hummed a song to himself.

He found Gilbert in his bedroom, and was quick to shut the door behind them. His brother simply sat at the edge of his bed, his face in his hands, his body shaking as he sobbed.

"I wanted you to be right, but now that you are I don't know what to think. What do we do? West, you can't get too involved with him. He's a mortal. He'll die."

"I don't care." Ludwig replied, coming to sit next to his brother on the bed. "You know I don't care."

"Yeah I know." He sniffled, running the back of his hand over his eyes as to stall his tears. "Now that he's here I don't know what I feel. I'm so excited that he's back, but I'm scared because-"

"You don't want to see him go." Ludwig finished, threading his fingers through his blond hair. "I don't either, but at this point I don't think I'd be able to stop myself from seeing him even if I wanted to. I love him."

"You should give Romano a call." Gilbert suggested. "It's his brother, after all."

He nodded, pulling out his phone. Though they had always butted heads, he couldn't deny Feliciano's brother the opportunity to see him. If spending a day together made him this happy, he could only imagine what it would do for Romano.

He was surprised when it only took two rings for the man to pick up.

"It's been twenty years since we've spoke. What do you want?"

"Feliciano is alive."

"Fuck you."

Romano hung up, and he wanted to throw his phone across the room. He'd never been good at communicating, no matter how delicate the subject matter.

"Here," Gilbert said, pressing his phone into his hand. "Try it on mine, and think about what you're going to say first."

He closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. What did you say in a situation like this? I swear I'm not crazy but do you remember your brother, the one that shot himself in the face? The one who's been dead for twenty years? He's back.

He shook his head. There was nothing for it, no matter what he'd sound crazy. He dialed the number regardless.

"What do you want?" Romano's voice came after a few rings, shaking and frail. He wondered if he'd upset the Italian.

"Look, you don't understand. I saw him. He had the curl, the voice tic, everything."

"I swear to God…"

Ludwig's words came rushing out, he didn't want to have risk the man hanging up on him mid-sentence. "Did your grandfather ever tell you about dead nations reincarnating? He's got a birthmark in the same place he shot himself. It's been twenty years, he looks about twenty. I can send you pictures, you can talk to him-"

"Do you think this is funny?" He asked, his voice hot with rage. "What kind of sick sense of humor do you have? I lost my brother, and that's enough pain for me. Fuck you for drawing it out. Don't call me again, bastard."

When Ludwig heard the tone he nearly shouted with frustration, and went to dial the number again before Gilbert took the phone from his hands.

"You can try again later. I think you've angered him enough."

"I don't understand." Ludwig said quietly, fists clenching. "Feliciano died for him. It's because of him he's not here anymore. How can he just shrug that off? Why wouldn't he want to see him?"

Gilbert shook his head. "Nobody made him do anything. It was his own choice to take his life. Romano's just trying to deal with that."

Before the German could say more his brother stood, and after digging through his closet pulled out a familiar knitted sweater. He handed it to him, trying to muster a smile.

"I'll call Spain later tonight. Go have fun."

"You don't want to come with us?"

He shook his head. "Maybe later. You need this more than me."

They ate lunch in a little café and continued their date with basic sightseeing. Feliciano enjoyed the cheerful atmosphere and the nicely decorated streets, though something seemed to be off with him.

"Are you alright?" Ludwig asked, putting a hand on his shoulder when he noticed that the man had started to sway.

"Yes, I'm just tired." He said, shrugging him off. "It was a long flight."

Ludwig opened his mouth to say something, but was quickly interrupted by the smaller man.

"Is that a clothing store?" he asked, and Ludwig peered at the establishment that he was pointing to.

"I think so." He said, but before he could say much else the Italian was bounding towards it, and he hurried to follow.

"What are you doing?" he asked once they'd entered to shop, but he was answered a wave of the hand as Feliciano's eyes scanned the aisles. He seemed to find what he was looking for soon enough, and took off again.

He wasn't agile though, and would have run straight into the table if Ludwig hadn't grabbed his arm at the last second.

"Really, are you alright?" he asked. The man had always been clumsy, but never to this extent.

"Now I am!" he exclaimed, and began to shift through the contents of the table. It was decorated with an assortment of hats, gloves, socks and scarves, all of which were made of finely knitted wool.

"I want a scarf." Feliciano said simply, picking one up and examining it for a moment, he nodded. "This one will do."

Ludwig took out his wallet, about to mutter something about the strangeness of Italians before Feliciano huffed, shaking his head.

"I'm not poor, Ludwig. I can buy my own scarf."

It was gray and thick and looked like something a grandmother would lovingly make for her grandchild as a Christmas gift. Feliciano seemed pleased with his decision and even more excited once they exited the shop. Before they could get too far he grabbed Ludwig by the elbow to still him, slipping the scarf around his neck in a casual manner.

"What?" the German asked in confusion. Feliciano only gave him one of his telltale smiles.

"It's chilly and you gave me your jacket, so I bought you a scarf!"

Suddenly Ludwig's cheeks felt red. "You didn't have to do that…"

The Italian rolled his eyes and took his hand. "Just say thank you."

"Thank you." He said quietly, squeezing his hand without thinking. To his surprise the younger man only squeezed it back.

"Now, you said something about dinner?"

The meal consisted mostly of Feliciano judging each dish in a playful manner, complaining about too much salt or the lack thereof, or jokingly asking the waitress if they served pasta. Ludwig was smiling the entire time.

"It's not like Italian food, but it's good." Feliciano said as he finished his plate. "Ve- I'm going to make you take me out again before I leave."

Ludwig felt the smile fall from his face. "You're leaving?"

The Italian didn't meet his eyes. "My aunt has a disease; I'm just keeping her company until my cousin comes in the fall to take care of her. Then I'll go back to Italy and go to school, though I don't know what for. Grandpa always told me that a degree in art won't get me anywhere…"

The rest of his words fell on deaf ears. Ludwig suddenly felt sick with realization. This was all temporary. The Italian would go on with his life, and come this time next year he may not even remember the quiet man he'd met in Berlin.

He didn't say anything as he paid for dinner and led Feliciano home. What was he supposed to say at a time like this- anyways? He was just glad that the smaller man was content to do most of the talking; all he had to do was nod on occasion.

When they reached the apartment Ludwig expected the man to go without a second thought, but instead Feliciano turned around and grabbed him by the shoulders, forcing the German to meet his eyes.

"You're really quiet. I mean- more than usual. Is something wrong?"

"No." Ludwig said quickly, looking away. "I'm sorry; I didn't mean to bother you."

Feliciano shook his head and stepped closer to the man. "Don't lie. You're sad right now. I can tell because you aren't smiling, and you've been smiling all night."

He wanted to give and explanation, but what was he to say? I'm not sad, I'm devastated. I'm devastated because you're mortal and I'm immortal. I don't want to let myself see you again because I'm afraid this relationship will develop, then I'll have to watch you die all over again. I don't want you to feel guilty for knowing what you did in your past life. I don't want to hurt you. I want you to be happy. I want to be with you. I want to spend every day of my life with you. I want to marry you. I want so many things that I can't have. Including you, because oh God, you're so perfect, which is probably why you were taken from me, because I never deserved someone like you.

"I'm sorry." He said simply. "I don't know what's wrong with me."

To his surprise Feliciano closed the distance between them, wrapped his arms around his torso and pulled him into a tight hug. Ludwig felt himself melt into the younger man's touch, holding him tightly and burying his face into his hair. He'd needed this for so long.

For the second time that year, he cried.

"It's alright, Ludwig." Feliciano said quietly as the German began to shake.

It wasn't alright, because in a way he was still dead, and Ludwig was lying to himself, telling himself that this would work somehow, that he'd be able to just watch Feliciano go at the end of the summer and never see him again. That maybe, if he could manage to get the key to his gun safe off of Gilbert, he'd be able to grow old with him like he wanted to. They could have a family. Anything.

But he knew he couldn't. He had a duty beyond Feliciano. He owed it to his people at least, not to mention his friends. He knew all too well the pain that came from losing a loved one to suicide.

Feliciano wouldn't understand, anyways. Even if he did get reincarnated and somehow find him, neither would remember the other. He let out a breath. There was no circumstance in which this could work.

He settled for saying nothing, instead letting an overwhelming ache come over him as more tears fell from his eyes. It wasn't fair.

"Can I tell you something, ve?"

"Yes." He said quietly.

"I know we never met in Rome. I hadn't seen you anywhere before yesterday. I know your face because I've been dreaming of it my entire life. Sometimes you're a little boy and sometimes you're all grown up, but it's always you."

He felt the Italian's grip on him tighten.

"When I saw you yesterday it felt like a huge weight came off of me, one that I didn't even know was there, and I was just so happy to see you and to meet you because all of my life you've been in my dreams. You've been there. You were my friend. You helped me. You kissed me sometimes too. I loved you before I even met you."

Ludwig felt his tears begin to dry up. Could he have had memories of their past life? Was there a way he could somehow get them back?

"I know it sounds dramatic, and maybe it's just because I'm an Italian that I feel like this, but that's just how it is."

He pressed a kiss to Feliciano's temple, right on the birthmark. He was there, he was healed, he was alright, and that was all he could ever want in the end.

The Italian pulled back, moving his hands up to wipe away the remnants of Ludwig's tears. "Sorry, that must sound weird. My Grandpa always told me that I needed to learn what I should and shouldn't say."

"No, it's alright." Ludwig said, leaning into his touch. His hand was soft and gentle, it was Feliciano.

A moment passed before the Italian smiled up at him. "You should kiss me."

He didn't need any further prompting.

When their lips met he felt his heart skip a beat. The Italian was quick to wrap his arms around his neck and press their bodies together, whilst Ludwig kept a steady hand on Feliciano's back, using the other one to stroke his face. It was sweet, it was chaste, and it was loving. It was just like the last one they'd shared.

The lines between fact and fiction were blurring in his mind. It was like nothing had changed. If he kept his eyes closed then he could believe that he was twenty years in the past, in their bedroom, sharing one last kiss before they went to sleep for the night.

He felt tears in his eyes again, but that was alright, because Feliciano was crying too.

To be continued