So, itās finally te time to upload this! Iāve been waiting for this moment lmao
I wrote this and my amazing partner did a drawing of the last scene, but they havenāt posted it yet so imma wait till they do and tag them!Ā
Edit: Here is the artwork!Ā
https://aph-florida-shitposts.tumblr.com/post/616694960857710592/they-my-peice-for-the-hetabang-art-thingĀ Itās made by @aph-florida-shitposts The artis amazing and everyone should go and check it out, period.
The meeting ended sooner that day. Thank God.Ā
Gilbert grabbed his laptop and his briefcase, stretching his neck until it popped. It was Friday, finally, and that meant a lot of things. It meant beer, a nice dinner, some of that leftover cake, and the best part:
āGilbert! Buongiorno!"Ā
He could invite him for dinner. He could finally invite Italy for dinner and ask him that thing.Ā
"Hey, little Italy! Guten morgen!ā He smiled, his heart almost doing a cartwheel when Feliciano kissed his cheeks. āWhat are you doing here? Youāre going to miss your flight.ā Even after saying that, Feliciano sat on the table, and Gilbert did the same, not interested If he missed his own.Ā
āI was looking for you.ā Said the Italian, and God, if he didnāt die at that moment, he really had to be a tough one. His pale face took a very slight shade of pink, invisible to Italy.Ā
āOh, so you were searching for me?ā Gilbert said, his speech still perfect, his tone normal, but his face warming. Slow but steady.Ā
āYes, I wanted to ask you something.ā Gilbert arched an eyebrow, blinking once or twice.Ā
Ā«Keep it cool.Ā» He thought, panicking internally. āOh, yeah, whatever you want, little Italy. Iām all ears.ā And, to be honest, he didnāt expect that much, but surely he didnāt see that one coming.
āCan you help me with my paperwork?"Ā
Oh God, Italy was lucky he liked him. He wouldnāt waste his weekend explaining paperwork to anybody, but him. He was the only exception.Ā
But now, he surely was going to be talking about boring numbers, when they could be having a delicious dinner and a delicious dessert. Amazing.Ā
"Come with me. We can stay together at my house and I can explain to you how I do my paperwork.ā He smiled, petting the Italianās head. āThen, we can have dinner together. Iāll make some homemade pasta for you and we can have cake at the end.ā And that was the exact way to convince Italy. Gilbert smiled softly, seeing Italy jump from one place to another while he sang some song. āOkay, okay. Chill, Kleine. Donāt hurt yourself.ā Italy stopped and grabbed his hand, tangling his fingers with his own.Ā
āI would love that, Gilbert!ā He smiled widely, so beautifully. āOh, Gil, youāre red. Is something wrong?"Ā
They were kneading the dough, and Gilbert was amazed at the way Italy did it. His movements were perfectly fluent, his voice hummed a soft song, his eyes half-open. He stopped for a second, pinching the dough slightly.Ā
āItās ready to stretch and cut.ā Prussia nodded, and then, they began to stretch the dough, making it thinner. Over, and over, and over again, until Feliciano felt like it was perfect. Then, they passed it through the cutter, making perfect spaghetti.Ā
āPerfect.ā Said Prussia, bringing a tray with flour. āItās ready to cook.ā Italy nodded, looking incredibly happy. They both went to the kitchen, where the water in the pot was already boiling. Italy added some salt, and then, the pasta.Ā
āIt should be ready in two or three minutes. Could you check the sauce?ā Gilbert nodded, and went to another pot, opening it and grabbing some sauce with a spoon. He tasted it, the flavor lingering in his mouth. It was absolutelyā¦Ā
āDelicious.ā He said, smiling widely. āItās delicious.ā Feliciano smiled, looking at him, small little face so adorable. He wanted to take a picture, no jokes. Gilbert covered the pot, seeing how his hand trembled, feeling his throat tightening. Ā«Everything is going to be okay.Ā» He had to say to himself.Ā
And he really hoped it would be.Ā
āWell, I think itās ready to drain.ā He nodded, getting closer. Italy was holding a fork, where one string of pasta sat. āCould you taste it, Gil?ā And he extended his hand, offering him not the fork, but the food. He had to stop a second, trying to gain control of his face, to avoid that God damned red. He got even closer, eating the spaghetti from his hand.Ā
āItās ready.ā He said, tasting it. It had the right amount of salt, and it wasnāt incredibly soft, but a little bit chewy. It was perfect.
Italy drained it and put it in the same pot with the sauce. he moved it around with a pair of tweezers, and then, it was perfectly ready to eat.Ā
āLetās go. Iām hungry.ā Italy smiled, grabbing a bottle of wine and a bottle of beer. Prussia nodded, grabbing the pot.Ā
āSo, did you understand that thing about your paperwork?ā Italy nodded, smiling and grabbing his glass of wine.Ā
āYes, thanks.ā He smiled, taking a sip of wine. āYouāre a very good teacher, Gil."Ā
"Oh, ask West or America, theyāll probably have something else to say.ā He laughed. āI am a good teacher, indeed,ā he started, grabbing his bottle. ābut I am not going soft on anyone. Youāre just a special case. Usually, I would be more strict and rude with any other. Only for you.ā And Gilbert smiled softly, booping the Italianās nose, making him laugh.
āI like you a lot, Gil!ā He smiled, and Gilbert definitely felt something jump in his chest.Ā
āAh, yea, ja.ā He mumbled, looking away. āActually, little Italy⦠Felicianoā He whispered, taking a big breath. āI like you too. I like you a lot.ā And Italy didnāt even flinch.Ā
āYeah! Me too, Gil! Youāre an amazing friend!ā Oh, no.Ā
āNo, dearest. I mean, uh, I like you, like, more than a friend. I like you a lot more."Ā
"Like a best friend, then! Youāre my best friend!ā And Gilbert rolled his eyes, but Italy kept talking before he could explain himself. āI wouldnāt change you as my best friend for anything in the world! Youāll always be the best friend I could ever have, and I hope nothing ruins our friendship!ā For Godās sake, Gilbert thought, almost speaking again.Ā
āYou⦠Wouldnāt want me to be anything more than⦠Your best friend? Only⦠That?ā He said, his voice normal, but something was cracking. āNot even-ā
āAlways friends!ā Italy interrupted him.Ā
Then, he understood. Italy was understanding what he really wanted to say, but he surely didnāt want to reject him. He just wanted him to⦠Catch the cue. He only wanted him as a friend.Ā
He only wanted him as a friend.Ā
āO-oh, yeah. Always⦠F-friends.ā He whispered, forcing that painful sensation at the back of his throat. Not yet. āI should take you to the airport so you can go back, Italy. Youāre going to miss your flight.ā He said, getting up and grabbing his keys and his helmet. He went to the garage, putting the key at the contact on his motorcycle. āMove, Italy! We donāt have all the time in the world!ā His words sounded a lot ruder and mean, like if he was tired or angry. Obviously, Italy got scared, and just followed the orders. The garage door opened with the controller, and they went out. Suddenly, Italy had to hold himself again Gilbert, because hell, they were going 100 kph, and it was just rising. They arrived at the airport in 3 minutes, when usually it would take 15.Ā
āLetās go.ā And as soon as they were on the ground they were running. Or well, he was almost running. Gilbert was just walking. Incredibly quickly. Gilbert had to buy the tickets for him because obviously, the people spoke German.
āHere. Have this.ā Italy grabbed the tickets with one hand, while he grabbed his document and passport from his briefcase with the other.Ā
āIs everything alright, Gil?ā He literally had to take a step back when Prussia looked at him. His eyes were glowing.Ā
āI donāt allow my own brother to call me by my name, Italy. You donāt have that privilege either.ā He deadpanned.Ā
But⦠Italy wasnāt dumb. At least, not when it came to feelings. Even if Prussia was āangryā, he saw sadness. In his face, those eyes were not glowing, they were shining.
āGilbertā¦ā He whispered, trying to put a hand on his shoulder, but at that second, his flight was announced. Prussia didnāt even say goodbye, he just left.Ā
His eyes were shining, yes. And he swore, he saw a tear leaving his left eye.Ā
Gilbert went back to his house calmly. He entered and started washing the dishes. The leftover spaghetti was poured in a container and stored in the fridge, with the forgotten cake. Then, he went to the table, grabbing his bottle of beer. It was half full, but in a second, he drank the rest. The wine was stored in the fridge, and the glass⦠He literally spent half an hour looking at it, trying to go back in time, when he bought that glassware, the moment when he grabbed it from the counter, just some hours ago. That moment, when they were still friends.Ā
His knuckles turned white, and in a quick movement, he threw the glass against the floor, turning it to just useless shards. Panting, he kneeled at its side, slowly picking up the pieces, just hissing when one of them cut his finger.Ā
Wine stung, but the tears falling were even more painful.Ā
The meeting was in Berlin that day. Ironically.
"He didnāt come todayā¦ā Whispered Italy, looking at the Germanās seat, unoccupied. In his place, Germany entered, even when he was, technically, on vacation. Apparently, though, he was not there for the meeting, because he wore just civilian clothes.Ā
āItaly.ā He said, looking at him. āCan we talk? Please?ā Italy nodded, concerned. He looked slightly sad but he looked mad too. Something surely had to be going around the Germanic countries. āWhat happened last Sunday, Italy? When I came back, Prussia was devastated. And I mean, really, sad.ā
āI knew he was sad. We were just talking, and in a second he was suddenly really mad but really sad. I swear I saw him crying.ā
āWhat were you two talking about? Do you remember what you said or what he said the moment when he changed?"Ā
"We were talking about our friendship! I told him I liked him, and he told me he liked me too, but, like, more than a friend! Then I thought, well he wants to be my best friend, and then it went down really quick and he was like that in a second."Ā
Germany observed him for a second, and then he arched an eyebrow.Ā
I mean. He thought he was the clueless one, but even he would have understood that.Ā
"So. Letās set things clear. You said something like āI like youā, then he said 'I like you too.ā Then you started talking about friends, but he said 'I like you more than a friend.ā Then you started talking about best friends. Then, he was suddenly angry. Is that what happened?ā
"Ā”Si Capitano!ā Said Italy, smiling widely. And oh God, he thought he was the clueless one.Ā
āItaly, my dear friend.ā He started, taking a deep breath. He needed France. āLetās say, a man and a woman are together. And he says 'I like you more than a friend.ā What would you think heās meaning?ā
āHe loves her!ā Italy said, smiling. And he smiled and smiled until he didnāt. āHe⦠He loves⦠Her.ā Slowly, he whispered.Ā
āAnd what if he does things for her he wouldnāt do in normal situations? Like, cooking for her, or allowing her to call him by his name, or taking the time to explain to her something slowly, when everyone would say heās a devil when heās teaching. Or calling her with endearments, when he doesnāt do that. What would you think? Does he want to be her friend?ā And Italy slowly came into realization.Ā
āOh my God, I messed it up. I ruined everything. I wasted his time. I fell really low. I-ā And Germany had to touch his arm, to prevent him from missing the line. āI have to go and talk to him.ā And he almost ran away, just in the for Ludwig to grab him and bring him back.Ā
āDo you have any idea of what youāre going to say, at least?ā Italy arched his eyebrow, opening his mouth, but Ludwig spoke first. āHe liked you even when we were dating, but he never said anything. He liked you since the beginning. And I canāt risk you going there and messing it up even more because I havenāt seen him this sad since 1945. He doesnāt deserve so much pain, and I wonāt let you go there unless you know exactly what to say.ā He took a deep breath. āDo you like him? Not like a friend. Not like a best friend.ā And Italy, slowly, nodded, making him smile. āGive me a pen. I have to give you the address. Heās not in Berlin, so youāll have to go now unless you want to miss the train that goes to Hamburg.ā Italy grabbed a pen, and Germany didnāt even waste time on paper, writing it directly onto his skin. āDo you understand it?ā Italy nodded, and flew, running to the train station, buying a ticket to Hamburg, and getting on the train in record time. He just hoped that there was still time for him.
He made it to Hamburg, and then, he started going around, trying to remember each street. He reached a big building of apartments and looked at the key in his hand. The door opened, incredibly, and then he started walking, trying to reach the apartment number 19. The door made a little sound when unlocked, and then he went in.Ā
Ā«It has to be Ludwigās private department.Ā» He thought to himself. Some books were easy to recognize for him because he saw them in his library. A jacket was on the sofa, he recognized it as Gilbertās. And there was a bed for a dog on the floor.Ā
He walked to the bedroom, and entered, finding him sleeping peacefully.Ā
Ā«Heās hereā¦Ā» He thought, slowly getting closer to him. He sat down on the bed, and at that moment, he woke up.
āWhat the fuck, Italy?ā He almost screamed, going back. āWhat are you doing here? Get out!ā Now he was screaming.Ā
āNo!ā Italy responded, but Gilbert didnāt listen. He grabbed his arm, dragging him to the door, without paying attention to anything he would say. And when they were almost out, he stopped for a second.Ā
"Iām sorry,ā Italy whispered, squirming in his place. āPrussia, my hand hurtsā¦ā And he left him to go. He dragged some tears left In his eyes, saying that again. āIām sorry. I didnāt know, I didnāt understand at that moment. Please, forgive me.ā And his face was suddenly red, his eyes shiny again.Ā
āItās not fair, I try to get out, and you drag me back, you probably donāt even mean what I think youāre meaning. And I thought West was bad when it came to feelings.ā Italy grabbed his hand, pressing it.Ā
āI like you too.ā He said, feeling Prussiaās hand tremble. āI like you. Not like a friend. Not like a best friend. I like you a lot. I just thought you werenāt meaning it like that, or I was just a little tipsy and I wasnāt thinking, but Iām sorry. For making you cry and for hurting you.ā And when he looked at his face, he was crying. āIām sorryā¦ā He whispered one last time, slowly touching his nose, and kissing him.Ā
It was something slow. Almost as if he was afraid of scaring him. He was suddenly so weak, so small. For a second he was a child again.
His hands just hung at his sides at the beginning, but then he slid them, right to his shoulders. They separated, looking at each other for a second. Then, Gilbert spoke.Ā
āI like you, Feliciano."Ā
"Me too, Prussia.ā Italy smiled.Ā
āCall me by my name. Please.ā But Italy didnāt, because, of course, he had to kiss him again.