SOY: please do enjoy this little bit of a drabble I had to write for the kink meme…
What if nations could write a letter to their younger selves? What would they say? This is my take on what Italy would have to say to his Chibitalia self…
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Rating: PG
Warnings: angst. What if section. Hope.
Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia. But I love working through fanfics of it.
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Cherish
One–shot
Dear Italy
I do not think it is important of you to know whom sends you this mail. Just rest assured, I do not mean you any harm, and won't ever think of attacking you, or attempt to steal territories, or bring you to war. That would be pretty pointless of me, and actually impossible.
Know that I do not crave for territories, nor possess, nor strength. I hope this will be enough to not scare you away. I know what that feels like, believe me, and it is not my goal.
I've lived… far longer than I had expected to. I'm still young, though, but in a way I've seen many things I would have preferred not to. Things such as war. Things I would have wanted to forget, but that are carved into my mind, and if by chance I let myself go… they're never fading scars.
I am a nation, just like you. And I can say I am a Nation that knows you the best. Believe my words, for they are true.
Things in your future will not look bright for you, as right now, your world has been toppled by pain, and a friendly gesture would be the only thing able to make a difference. You won't, by any means, receive such touch. You will be alone, scared, somewhere away from your house, forced to work and live with people you don't know… and after that, you'll have no house, and enemies will come at you, demanding things you wouldn't be able to give.
It will take so much, so much for things to settle. Centuries of pain to be able to lay a claim on something to call your own, that it will feel pointless, worthless, to even start.
This is why I'm writing this letter. Because I know. I've… been through this, recovering slowly, crying and hurting.
I know what will come for you.
But if you can even barely, believe a stranger you've never met, believe in my words.
Every morning, no matter what, wake up with a smile. Smile at your life, smile at the people around you, that will have nothing much to smile at; even if they are older, and busier, and you won't understand what goes on in their lives, a smile will always brighten up their day.
Enemies, friends –it does not matter. Never stop smiling, because it is what you are alive for. Against war, against pain, if there is something you need to be good at, is to bring smiles to others. Offer a warmth they might have forgotten. Offer something that they're searching for, even when they've forgotten about it.
Express your joy and never hide what you feel. Be honest, be open, and ignore those who call you stupid, those who think you are weak, and useless, and meaningless.
Every big step comes forth after a series of smaller, seemingly useless moves. Nothing can be accomplished without setting your mind in the right perspective.
Cherish whoever you meet, embrace their feelings for you, never fear to give birth to a new friendship, never cringe if faced with the feat of a new meeting.
This is the heritage your grandfather left you. More than wars, and ability to fight, more than being respected out of fear, he wanted you to be respected out of love, and similar respect. He's always at your side, protecting you. Never doubt this.
He might have just died –he might have left you alone, to fend off in a world you don't understand, a world that seems to take no benefice in art and beautiful poems… but you won't be alone for long.
Pain, happiness, sadness and anger… everything comes to pass. It will make you stronger, not physically, but mentally. It will make you grow, so that despite what the world will think, you'll stick to your beliefs until the very end.
You are me, in a way that had been and has not, and will be and won't. If you don't understand, you will.
Open your eyes and live and experience and feel and love –and always give it your all.
And when the day comes –that day, in which you'll understand the pain of a loss ever fiercer than that of your grandfather… the day the world will fall over you, threatening to bury your soul and your smile away…
Cry, and feel the pain, and then…
And then, keep on smiling. The future… the future always brings hope.
F.V.
~.~.~
Italy held the crumpled letter in his small, chubby hands, and frowned, tears streaking down his cheeks, as sobs racked through his body.
He didn't understand.
It felt painful to read, many parts smudged with ink and what looked like dried water, hard to read because he had never heard of some of the words used, much less the concepts, and everything was dulled out, and–
What did that letter mean? Who was that person sending it to him, mentioning his past, his present, his future?
Smile? How could he smile? Grandfather gone, brother captured and held so far from him… what was there to smile at?
Small hands crumpled the letter and threw it on the ground, stomping on it with unsure steps, sniffling and wiping the tears away. Italy turned his back to the sheets, running away to hide from the world, hide from the Holy Roman Empire, hide from all the scary nations who wanted his territories…
Everything hurt. There was nothing to smile for! The letter lied, the world lied!
Then he stopped.
Hesitating, he turned around, big, brown eyes fixed on the crumpled papers, unmoving, almost trembling, suppressing the pained tears from falling again.
"Ve…"
Slowly, reluctantly, he stepped to the letter, and picked it up. he looked at the stains, at the clear effort put into writing it, and even though he could only understand half of it, there was feeling into every line.
Feeling of knowledge. Of sadness. Shared pain.
Something warm and familiar that crawled from inside him, until it invaded his chest, his brain, and dried away his tears.
Maybe he could not understand now. Everything hurt too much. He couldn't think. Yet.
But maybe in the future... maybe one day, he'd come to understand.