Chapter Text
Germany sighed. there was a feeling he had for someone, unrelenting and hurting in his chest every day he saw that person. "festering" he thought. Austria was droning on about how Classical Music was the solution to world peace, and Germany was dutifully scribbling down notes in his notebook. (he fully intended to burn them later, but there were more than a few countries that needed an example to follow instead of drawing graffiti under the desks. What a way to spend a Saturday.
"Germany~" the mentioned country rested his head on his hand and looked over to the direction of his name. The country who had said it had a cherubic face with a smile that lit up the world meeting room better than any light, and a sugary laugh to go with it. North Italy's curl bobbed in the air, as the country it was attached to chuckled. "'You bored too?" Germany looked away, disgruntled at the fact Italy could read him like an open book despite having next to no other social skills. Italy reached out for the German's head, nodding it up and down and mussing his slicked blond hair in the process. "Ja, I'm so bored and tired, please make me pasta!" Italy imitated Germany's gruff accent and stifled a chuckle, earning a sharp look from Austria, who began to pull out a CD of Chopin's music as a demonstration. Germany gently batted Italy's hand away, smiling slightly. "Well? Of course you want to let me come over and make pasta, I'm the best!" Italy grinned. Germany admired his shorter companion's voice, musical and fitting for the country opera had originated in. "We'll see, Italy. I might have work to do'' he whispered. it wouldn't matter- Italy always managed to snag his time, and Germany couldn't really complain. "Mein Gott, how lucky I must be to know him.." he thought, ignoring the soft pang in his chest.
After the world meeting, Italy caught up to him. "Hey hey Germany!" he chirped in a usual greeting, despite him talking to the aforementioned country the entire meeting- much to Austria's chagrin. Germany knit his eyebrows, thinking. "Hallo, Italy," he said absentmindedly. "Germanyyyy~" the Italian pulled on his sleeve lightly, getting his full attention. "Yes?" "You said I might get to go to your house if you don't have work to do, and you're so efficient that you couldn't possibly have work, right?" Italy looked up at him with unreasonable puppy-dog eyes. "pleaaaa-" he was cut off by Germany pushing him away by the face. "Ja, Ja, you can come home with me, just don't stay past 10:30, okay?" Italy nodded vigorously, and started dragging Germany to his own car. "Italy wait-!" he yelped, tripping over his own feet and trying not to scuff his shoes. "Italien, hurry up! Italien, finish those laps!" Italy mocked. "YOU hurry up, 10:30 is in seven hours and I don't want to miss a second of time I could have with you!"
Germany's breath hitched and he felt color rush to his face. surely he hadn't realized what that had sounded like- it was probably just a language thing he didn't quite get. Germany made his way to the driver's side of the blue BMW, Italy jumping in the moment the door made that unlocking *click*. "I'm not taking the highway home, you better have your seatbelt on." the blonde chided, remembering Italy had thought seatbelts were food on more than one occasion. "Okay!" and that was the last they could say to each other before Italy took control of the radio.
The day was long, but not at all wasted or boring. Italy had made a pot of pasta so large Germany expected to be eating nothing but spaghetti for the next week. Not that he was going to complain, it was delicious. The two had watched a movie, talked about how each other was doing in their respective country duties, and at about 10 pm they went for a walk in the park near Germany’s house. Germany’s heart beat harder with every step, the sparkle of Italy strolling along beside him, smiling. The late twilight was beautiful, gothic street lamps beginning to be lit around the park.
“This is happening, this is happening, I'm going to confess to him, tell him everything. '' Germany thought, hyping himself up for the moment. He picked up the pace slightly, Italy skipping along beside him as they reached a lacquered wooden bench below the awning of a tree. Italy sat down, patting the spot next to him as a signal for the taller man to sit down. Germany took a deep breath, taking a seat. “Italy, I-'' he swallowed. “ Maybe I won't do this- I should just wait for him to make a move- ” “Germany? What is it?”
Caramel met icy blue, confirming Germany's resolve. “Italien- I have to confess something.” he could feel the color rushing to his cheeks, head spinning with adrenaline. “I feel all fluttery and warm when you're around,” he started, putting his hand on Italy’s own. The latter’s eyes were wide. “I love to be around you, but there's a feeling I can't quite put into words about it.. I-” Italy cut him off. “You love me?” Germany swallowed again. His mouth and throat felt dry, like all the moisture had been absorbed out of it. His mouth tasted.. bitter, for some reason. He nodded, feeling defeated when he realized Italy’s expression was tired and disappointed. Germany felt tears welling, and he internally begged them not to fall. Not now at least.
"Any time but now, please. ” “I.. I take it you don't feel the same?” The words were barely a whisper, an attempt to not sound as devastated as he felt. Italy pulled his hand away, placing it on his lap instead. “I’m sorry you feel that way, I don't like you like that.” he wasn't meeting Germany's eyes, looking down at the ground. “I think I should go home now- it's getting late.” the German nodded, watching Italy get up and walk away, leaving Germany alone in the park.
He sat there for a long time, until he was absolutely sure no one was around. There were maybe hours of watching the empty park, the sun dipping behind the horizon, leaving him completely in the dark besides the dim street lamps. At that point he couldn't help himself. Everything he wanted to say to Italy, he cried into the sky. All the anguish, the love, the hope, the despair. And after he had said all the words he could think of, he just sobbed. His breath was ragged, wailing into the void. A tear or two rolled down his cheeks, but the rivers of saline he could have sworn he was holding back never came. His throat was aching and itchy, causing him to cough. That's when he realized there was something stuck. He coughed a bunch, a little bit of concern pricking at his mind about how something got there despite him not having eaten in a while. And that's when it happened. A single yellow petal, smeared with what seemed to be spit. Germany knit his eyebrows. He wasn't one to eat flowers, he knew, so how would this have gotten stuck in his throat? He shook his head and pocketed the soft petal, already beginning to wilt. He would figure this out in the morning, hopefully. “It probably doesn't mean anything.” he thought, though doubt and worry still itched his thoughts as he walked home.