The warm rays of light from the morning sun hit his face. His amber eyes fluttered open and he yawned. Sitting up in bed, he ran a hand through his auburn hair, carefully avoiding the one curl sticking up and climbed out of bed. He glanced over at the German boyfriend sleeping on the other side of the bed, unbothered by the bright sun. Italy smiled. He looks so peaceful like that, not scowling. I'll let him sleep. After getting dressed, he went downstairs to make breakfast for them both. Italy was in the middle of mixing pancake batter when the phone started to ring. He went over and answered it, a familiar and fairly distraught French accent on the line.

"Ciao! This is Italy."

"Oh, bonjour Italy, you... sound awful cheery for ze current situation."

"Big brother France, what do you mean? Nothing bad has happened here!"

"So I take eet you don't know? You poor zing..."

"Know what?"

France choked back a sob, speaking in a voice full of pain from long ago.

"N-nothing Italy... All I can say iz... I'm sorry. I really am..."

"What's wrong?! Sorry for what? France? France?!"

The line went dead.

That was strange.. He sounded so upset. I wonder what that was all about? Just as Italy was getting back to the pancakes, his doorbell chimed. It's early... Who would be here at this time? He walked over to the door, peering through the window, seeing nothing but a small, cardboard package sitting on his step with a note attached. Opening the door, he retrieved the package and picked up the note, unfolding it. Inside were six words, written in a flamboyant handwriting style that was obviously France's, even if he hadn't signed the note.

"These belong to you.

I'm sorry."

Italy furrowed his auburn eyebrows. Sorry for what? France hadn't done anything. Maybe if I open the package, it will explain why everyone is apologizing. He grabbed a pair of scissors from a drawer and cut the packing tape on the box open, unfolding the flaps with shaky hands and a worried knot in his gut.

He gasped, tears immediately springing to his soft hazel eyes, now full of long-buried pain and despair.

Inside the box lay a familiar folded black cloak, a matching black hat resting on top with a gold rim.

He slowly picked it up with trembling hands, that piece of clothing holding so many joyful and crushing memories.

~Flashback~

Italy came tearfully running after Holy Rome, carrying a push broom.

"Wait!"

Holy Rome eagerly whirled around to see Italy running towards him.

"Italy! You came to say goodbye?"

"Yes, I couldn't just let you leave. Take this with you."

Italy handed Holy Rome the push broom, which he stared at with blue eyes full of recognition. He smiled, and looked up at Italy.

"What do people in your country give as a gift?"

"A kiss."

Holy Rome leaned forward and pulled Italy close, kissing him sweetly and chastely. He pulled away, holding Italy's hands protectively in his own. Italy gazed at him.

"Be safe in the war."

"We'll meet again, after this terrible war. Will you wait for me?"

"Of course. I love you, Holy Rome."

"I love you too, I have for a long time."

Holy Rome then threw himself into a long and hard battle.

Nobody ever saw him again.

~Flashback End~

Italy's hands, holding the piece of clothing that brought a rush of mixed emotions, were shaking. Dropping the cloak in shock, collapsing to his knees, his entire body trembling. Tears dropped down his face and he picked up the hat, clutching it close to his chest.

Close to his heart.

Closer to Holy Rome.

He couldn't take this pain. After keeping it buried in his heart for so long, it was too much. All he wanted was to end this. Italy looked with his dull hazel eyes to the locked black box on the corner of the kitchen counter.

I could end this all now...

~0~

Germany peeked open one blue eye. Something... wasn't right. He hastily sat up, straining to hear anything. Was that sobbing he heard. Italy.. Oh Gott please be alright! Jumping up, he got dressed quickly and flew down the stairs, only to pause at the bottom step to take in the heart-wrenching sight before him. Italy stood there, shakily removing a pistol from the emergency box on the counter. Germany's ice-blue eyes widened.

"Stop! Italy!"

Italy whirled around, his usually lively eyes now dulled and wet with tears.

"..G-Germany.."

"Yes, Italy, I'm here! Don't do this. I would miss you too much... You're a country! The world needs you.

I need you."

Italy crumpled to the ground, dropping the pistol and it skittered across the floor. Germany ran over and enveloped him in a hug, pulling him close to his chest and stroking his auburn hair.

Italy pressed his face into his shirt, feeling protected and loved in his embrace.

I..was stupid. I shouldn't try to do that, ever. Because Holy Rome is here, holding me close to his chest.

Close to his heart.

Closer to Holy Rome.

YES I HAVE NOT WRITTEN IN FOREVER. I KNOW. I'm just starting high school, and to complicate matters, I'm in marching band. And to complicate matters FURTHER, there's all sorts of homecoming drama all around my circle of friends. Anyway, I thought a longer chapter would make you guys happy! :D

-xXTomatoBoxFairyXx