Space/Cosmos

As they both stared up from miles apart, they remembered. Both boys remembered each other; both boys smiled that same sad smile as they looked up at the little tiny lights that lit up the dark sky. It really should have been a beautiful night.

"Ita?" a friendly feminine voice asked from the hallway. Young Italy was peering out the window of his bedroom for what seemed like the thousandth time that night. He couldn't help it. The stars were beautiful, and they always reminded him of what he had lost. It was a bittersweet feeling. Nobody else understood them quite like he did.

"Come now, little Italy, it's time for you to rest...this is the third time tonight I've told you this," her voice echoed from behind the little boy in the white nightgown. The flimsy fabric was trailing out behind him with each zephyr carried through the window, and the light of the stars was almost reflecting off the thin material of his gown. He looked surreal, and he felt surreal thinking about that other little boy he'd grown to love so much.

"But if he's looking at the stars, and I'm not, then he won't be able to see me," Italy answered without turning his head. He was standing on a stepping stool on his toes, taking in everything the night had to offer. His little body was shivering with cold. His female guardian came over and gently knelt down and held his hand.

"Why did he have to leave, Miss Hungary...?" He mumbled quite sadly, leaning his head down on his arms on the windowsill, "He didn't have to go to war...nobody did." Italy's curly red hair stood out against the whiteness of his night clothes. Hungary draped a slender arm around the child.

"Because he's fighting to protect everything and everybody he loves, Ita," she answered simply, as if it were a simple, everyday question she were assessing. She turned her head back towards the window; her brown hair flowing out behind her, just past her shoulders. A sigh escaped her lips. "He'll come back home one day, Ita, you'll see. And he'll be so happy to see you, I know he will."

Italy whimpered back a childish "really?" which was answered with a nod and a smile, and was promptly tucked into bed. Hungary stood outside Italy's bedroom door, her smile quickly turning bitter and sad, and quickly slipped to her room and threw on her military uniform that she hadn't touched in years; ever since she started living at the Austrian's household. She pulled her hair up into a tight ponytail and left the house.

In a matter of hours, she was at the military fighting grounds where she knew that the Holy Roman Empire was located. She searched for him the best she could – without being caught in any crossfire – but she found nothing. As she walked towards the containment center, where she eventually deduced that he was, she saw what looked like a burnt painting on the ground; the campus shriveling up in flames and spitting out embers from the wooden frame. She frowned and walked into the small building.

And there, she saw the little blonde boy with the beautiful blue eyes that Italy had come to love. He was lying there in a little bed; his head tilted to the side and his eyes barely open, looking at the sky. There was a bandage wrapped around his forehead, and he looked exhausted and beaten up. But regardless, he was looking out the window, thinking of Italy. Hungary said nothing, but came over and placed a gentle hand over his heart. Holy Rome did not budge.

"Can you see her face?" She finally asked once her voice returned to its rightful place. A nod. "Her eyes, too?" Another little nod. He looked so sad.

"She was the moon at dusk and the sun at dawn," he replied hoarsely, the tiny voice barely escaping his throat. His eyes slowly closed, and his head tilted over a bit more to the side. Hungary placed a trembling hand over his heart, the other over her own. Her eyes were misty as she whispered the only thing she could think of.

"You were his stars."

She couldn't feel a pulse anymore.