Chapter Text
Gilbert did not know what he was doing in the middle of the night, strolling the streets of Rome.
All kinds of conversations that could be heard from the crowded streets, and the bright stars that shone in the night sky should have given the ex-nation some comfort, maybe the same cozy feeling that everyone around him seemed to feel. But he lacked those feelings, not feeling cozy, nor happy. He already wanted to go back home and stay in his room, sleeping and avoiding people like he always did. Why was he here again?
Oh, right, he wanted to travel to get his mind off... stuff like how he was an ex-nation now. Not like it bothered him though; he was the one and only awesome Prussia who refused to feel gloomy or get sad. Those traits could not belong to him; that would be totally unawesome.
He had been an ex-nation for a while now; it didn't even bother him anymore! Not at all!
Though, not until recently. Well, it's not like he was ever going to admit that to anyone, or himself.
No, he wasn't sulking over a nightmare and needed an escape, a way to feel relief. That would be a pathetic excuse to travel. He had told Ludwig that he was bored of sitting around his room all day and made him pay for a quick vacation to Italy, though the ex-nation's brother definitely needed a vacation more than Gilbert did.
Ludwig was working all day and night; he had been so busy that he barely had any time to meet with his only friend, Veneziano, unless it was for world or business meetings, where they barely had the chance to speak together.
But without any complaints, his brother had paid for his entire vacation and even helped him pack. Ludwig knew his brother was bored sitting around the house, so he thought a nice, calming vacation in Italy might make him feel better.
He also told him that he should visit the Italy brothers. While talking to Veneziano about Gilbert going to Italy for a break, Veneziano himself had suggested the idea of Gilbert visiting both brothers, and sent out the addresses.
Ludwig also knew that Gilbert had been having some nightmares where he woke up sweating heavily and swearing to thin air.
He was worried about him, but had no idea how to approach the conversation, so he never had a chance to ask any questions.
He was also scared of losing his older brother, who had become an ex-nation now. He had offered him the chance to join him in world meetings, but Gilbert, without hesitating, straight up had refused the offers.
People would definitely think that he's clinging to his younger brother so he doesn't disappear or something.
Just thinking about the amount of pitiful looks he would get overwhelmed him enough to promise himself to never step a single foot into the conference room, ever!
The thought of disappearing did make him scared, terrified even, but at the same time he felt like there was nothing he could do about it. He had been around for way longer than he thought he would after he became an ex-nation, and even though he wasn't acting like it, he felt like he was walking on eggshells, like his time would come if he made even the smallest mistakes, like missing a step going up the stairs or eating old sausages.
He did not know what happened to the nations who disappeared. No one knew anyway; it was a mystery that he would have to learn one day by himself.
He knew the rumors about the "Grandpa Rome" who is rumored to be constantly watching and talking to his grandchildren and coming to their rescue in helpless situations, but after all, it wasn't a solid answer to his questions.
And even if it was true, who would even Gilbert watch, who needed his rescue? Maybe Ludwig, he thought to himself, but the nation was completely fine by itself. Not like he would need any help. He could still watch him, though.
Other than that, no other name came to Gilbert's mind, leaving him feeling extremely upset. No, he shouldn't be feeling like this. This was not how he, the awesomest nation of all time, Prussia, would act. He needed to get himself together. He was fine; he was breathing without any problems; he felt perfectly okay, awesome even.
Everything would be fine.
People still remembered him, right? Yeah, it had been ages since he last went to a conference, but it's not like people would forget him after some missed meetings, right?
The other nations still remembered his awesome face, right?
...
God damn it.
He felt miserable.
After all those complicated thoughts, he obviously couldn't just stay all by himself with his unawesome thoughts. What's better than shutting your head up with booze anyway?
It didn't take Gilbert long to find a small, cheap bar in some old, pretty street. He would just drink a cold glass of beer and then go back to his hotel room. It wasn't that far away from where he was right now.
Well, that was what he told himself. Only one glass. But it tasted amazing.
It wouldn't hurt to get another, right?
It also shut his mind completely, distracting him from everything that was going on inside his very depressed head.
Yeah.
He was going to get more, but stop when he needed to. He knew his limits.
Glass after glass, it didn't take long for him to officially lose track of how much he drank. He had drunk so much that he had trouble trying to remember why he decided to drink in the first place. At which point did someone get alcohol poisoning?
Though he was a nation, not a human, stuff like poisoning wouldn't take him down even if he tried. Yeah.
He ordered another glass, getting a concerned glance from the bartender.
Though the bartender seemed to be way too underpaid to care. Maybe this was a common occurrence to him.
Gilbert was murmuring to himself: what time was it right now? His head was a mush; he wanted to throw up.
With every passing second, breathing grew more difficult in the suffocating, enclosed space around him.
God, he wished to be in his room more than anything right now. He had trouble trying to figure out how he even ended up in this situation in the first place.
He needed to go back to his hotel.
Using the last amount of strength he had left in his body, he took out his phone to see where he was.
A fifteen-minute walk back to his hotel. He wanted to scream after just seeing the number.
But also, Gilbert felt utterly confused. He was sure that he picked this bar specifically because it was close to his hotel, under five minutes of walking.
"...Fuck this", the words slurred in his mouth.
He had probably gone to some other bar whilst being drunk. He did do stupid shit like that when he got extremely drunk, usually getting lost when he finally sobered up.
The bartender seemed to be doing some last-minute cleaning and giving Gilbert annoyed glances.
The ex-nation took those looks as his sign to leave.
His head felt heavy as he tried to stand up straight. He took his wallet and gave the men the last coins left in his wallet. The bartender murmured a quick thank you, though Gilbert was already walking towards the exit, so he barely heard what he had said.
Not like he cared.
He felt grateful about the fact that he did not throw up right there on the table.
He kept checking the location Ludwig had sent him as he walked, feeling worse with each step he took.
At least now, since it was late at night, the streets were empty, so no one could see him looking all miserable like this.
His eyes were watering as he tried to keep his focus on the bright, white screen. His head was killing him, and his slowed breathing only made him feel more exhausted.
He could barely stay awake as he kept on entering wrong streets and getting lost.
Were nights in Rome always this cold? His thick, black coat barely kept him warm. He shivered as he rubbed his hands together.
At this point, Gilbert wasn't sure if he would make it to his hotel. The GPS told him that he would reach his hotel in about a minute or so, but none of these buildings seemed familiar to him.
Looking around, he could hear the sound of some romantic Italian song coming from the distance. He turned his head around, squinting his eyes since he was far away from whatever commotion was happening.
Looking at the couples waltzing to the slow rhythm as some old dude sang Italian songs made him want to gag and throw up right there.
Eugh.
Totally what he needed to see after drinking all night.
Sappy, cute, romantic shit.
He checked his location.
Supposedly, his hotel was right in front of him, but instead of the hotel, he was standing in front of this huge, pretty, white building that just screamed "made in Italy".
The place was eerily familiar to Gilbert; he just couldn't place his finger on it.
He checked the location once again. Maybe all of those beers he drank were finally getting to him. Damn. He just wanted to rest and forget about everything.
Oh shoot.
He needed to throw up really bad, right now.
He dropped his phone on the ground, wobbling his way to the trashcan near the building.
His body gave one final warning before Gilbert basically emptied his entire stomach inside the trashcan.
He felt his throat burning and eyes watering. The bitter aftertaste of beer was back at his mouth again. His head had stopped working by now; his head was just a mess of thoughts.
He dropped to his knees, barely keeping himself from collapsing to the ground.
"What the hell!?"
The door of the house banged into the wall with a loud crash. The ex-nation slowly turned around and raised his head, feeling nothing but defeat and deep embarrassment.
He could only pray that whoever this person was would be nice enough to let him go without getting the police involved.
He squinted his eyes, trying to see the person who was now standing in front of him with a gun in his trembling hands.
He let out a small gasp upon seeing the face of the man in front of him.
Romano.