Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia. As much as that saddens me....

Over The Hills

Italy had mentioned the hills once before, although it may have been more than that, Germany did often get distracted while the over-excited Italian was talking. He remembered this time though because of the way Italy spoke of it, his eyes glazed over, a small peaceful smile gracing his lips, full of distant memories. The hills were his sanctuary, a place of serenity. Long, flowing grass, the majestic valleys below which captured long shadows when the horizon turned all shades of pink, were ideal for his love of painting and it was here, in his unique place, that Germany found him.

Italy was standing still, as motionless as the slender tree beside him, leaves floating in the breeze. His brunette hair fluttered gently, telltale curl flying high, its twisted shadow dancing on the grass below. He remained silent as Germany advanced, the only movement being the slow rise and fall of his chest. Germany stopped, a few feet away from the Italian, and inhaled deeply.

"Why?" His voice quivered with emotion, the softly spoken word echoing in his mind. He clenched his fists tightly, closing his eyes. "Why did you do it?" With effort, he raised his head, seeing the Italian turn around to face him. Italy's face was devoid of expression, his eyes lifeless and dead. His mouth opened but his voice was empty, lost on the wind. He just stared, never dropping is gaze, causing the German to blink and look away. Germany felt the sun beat down from above, the joyful day almost mocking him, teasing him.

"Why did you leave?" his voice shook with barely restrained rage, as he tried to retain his composure. An angry tear slipped from his eye, only to be brushed away by unsteady fingers. He inhaled shakily, before meeting Italy's unwavering gaze.

"You-" he paused, swallowing emotion, "You said you loved me." The words were so quiet, barely a whisper, he wasn't even sure if Italy had heard them. It was only now that Germany looked at him properly for the first time noticing the large cut which grazed Italy's cheek and he seemed so tired, so very tired that all Germany wanted to do was take him home and put him to sleep. Italy turned on his heel walking away from Germany, his head held high. Neither noticed the large dark grey clouds brewing overhead, a sign that the cheery day was coming to an abrupt end. Suddenly he stopped, tilting his shoulder towards Germany, hazel eyes blank and face unreadable, his soft but strong words cut through the wind.

"I lied."

Germany felt his heart break; he could actually feel the crack that severed it at those words. His face was burning with fury, the feeling of betrayal, the lie he had been so eager to believe. He glared through blue eyes, as cold as ice. "You can't do it! You can't leave me!" he screamed, voice near hysterical, but his words fell on deaf ears. He slumped, falling to his knees, almost pleading. A flicker of something close to pity crossed Italy's face before vanishing as quickly as it appeared. Italy turned and began to slowly walk away, his face hidden behind his unruly hair. It was only then that he dropped his stony exterior, letting a lone tear trail down one cheek, carried away in the breeze.

"I'm sorry" he whispered, his words unheard. "It needs to be done."

Historical note: 3 September, 1943, a secret armistice was signed between Italy and the Allied powers. Italy then fought with the allies for the rest of WWII.

A/N: I just love mixing the fact that the Hetalia characters are countries with the fact that they are also human and have emotions. I feel bad for writing this because I love Germany/Italy so much but, I thought I should try something historical for once and of course it ended up being angst. Please review!~ I'd love to know what you guys think especially as its kinda different for me to write something like this. xD