Hello there. This is my first story in ages... But, here we go.
According to my head, Italy was with Germany all the years that Prussia was on the other side of the wall, and Germany was an absolute mess. So... Italy almost went crazy because of it. (Maybe I'll write a story for that too one day.)
Summary: After the Berlin Wall fell, and Gilbert was returned to Germany, Italy went back to his own country to recuperate. After seven years, both Italy and Germany realize that their lives aren't quite complete without each other. Rating T for now (honhonhon~) and... yeah. It switches points a view of few times, so... yeah.
I'm not going to tell you at the beginning of the chapter's who's POV it's in because it's pretty obvious. Unless of course you guys complain about it.
The year was 1989, the wall had fallen and I regained my brother. After over 40 years I spoke my first full sentence, "Ich liebe dich." My brother was brought back to me, and I couldn't be happier, but along with the gain of my brother, I lost something in return. Finally knowing that I was alright to leave alone, and at the point of near insanity, he left me. I let him go with a smile, knowing it would be better for the both of us if we stayed away from each other. At least, that's what I believed then.
It was 1996 when I realized my mistake. Alone in my office, I had come across an old photograph. The edges of the paper were dog-eared, and the photograph was tinted sepia from years of being stuck in the bottom of a draw. In the center I stood, with Feliciano and Kiku by my sides. Kiku looked out of place, the way he stood too far away from us, and how his smile was too shy, he looked awkward next to me. It was as if he was accidental in the photo, but Feliciano and I, we looked perfect. My arm was around his shoulders, his wrapped around my waist in haste, as if it were a last minute idea. Our smiles were so genuine, unlike the one in my family photo that rested on the edge of my desk. Gilbert's smile was too forced, bothered by the presence of Roderich at his side. My smile was barely visible, and if you looked close enough, you could see bags of exhaustion underneath my eyes. But in this picture with Feliciano, I looked… happy.
Without thinking, I grabbed the photo frame of the family picture, gently taking out the back. The photo slid out smoothly, and I placed it in a draw with other loose papers. After replacing the frame with the older photo, I held it back to look at it, smiling softly. It just about fit the frame, with a space of the backboard showing through around the corners of the photo. After placing it back down on my desk, I was overcome with a sense of emptiness. Would this photo be the only way I could see Feliciano smile like that at me again?
I looked out my window, my hand resting against my chin, index finger idly brushing my upper lip. We had once been so close, and now… now we were barely friends. At meetings we would sit next to each other, but are talks were nothing more than that of countries. I tried to think back to the last time he had asked for a hug, or even reached out for my hand under the table. There was nothing besides before the war. It seemed as though he wanted me to make up all the years I had lost with my brother. But now that Gilbert was back, I missed the distractions I got from Feliciano, and I missed his presence in general.
As I leaned back in my chair, the sun was falling just below the tree-line. My thoughts were overtaken with memories of tender kisses, and soft hands in my own, when Roderich pushed open the door. My head snapped over, almost expecting to see the small frame of Feliciano, frowning in disappointment when met with the form of my brother.
"Dinner is ready." His flat voice stated, an attempt of a smile playing on his lips. Roderich had never quite gotten used to the idea of living in my house, he still got lost when taking midnight trips to the bathroom.
Sitting up and adjusting the work papers on my desk, I sighed, "I'll be in there soon..." When I looked back up, Gilbert had just entered the room, throwing his arm over Roderich, pulling him closer, a childlike grin on his face.
"I made the most amazing meal ever, West. Don't let this guy kid you." Gilbert's other hand pointed to Roderich, a loud cackle escaping through his mouth. I smiled softly, standing up. The picture caught my eye again, and I stared at it before remembering I wasn't alone. Coughing awkwardly, I stepped up to the two of my brothers, motioning for them to go ahead of me.
From where I stood behind them, I could see Gilbert shoving Roderich slightly; laughing and muttering words I didn't bother try and hear. The kitchen smelt delicious, a mix of wurst and a faint smell of cake. The table had already been set, most likely by Roderich. The way the plates were perfectly centered on the mats and the forks and knifes directly in the middle of the napkins, which were folded to perfection; it was obviously his doing.
Gilbert sat down quickly, grabbing his fork and serving himself, smacking his lips, staring down at the food. Surprisingly, he waited for Roderich and me to serve ourselves before he began to eat. The kitchen became silent, except for the sound of chewing. This is how it was every night. Dinners were eaten in silence, unless there was something interesting that had happened to any of our countries, which barely occurred. I could remember my dinners with Feliciano, though his voice was loud, it was still a voice. We would talk about everything, and even during the years of my absolute silence, he would still find a way to converse with me, asking questions that I could nod, or shake my head to. The silence around my brothers was almost deafening, and I knew for a fact it was neither of their faults, but my own.
I missed the smell of his cooking, the wurst that dangled on my fork was perfectly cooked, but it wasn't the same. It wasn't slightly burnt, with too many spices dancing on my tongue when I took a bite. It was plain and German, the way it should be cooked, but my tongue longed to taste the garlic that would rub onto it from the platter of pasta freshly cooked underneath it.
"Hey, West, what's the matter? Do you not like it, or something?" I was snapped out of my thought process by Gilbert's voice, not too far from my face. Shaking my head, I took a bite, swallowing before I answered.
"Its fine, I was just thinking."
"Just fine?" he asked, frowning slightly, "It's better than fine, right Roddy?" he stared at Roderich, patiently waiting for an answer. When he blushed, Gilbert just laughed, leaning back down in his chair, hungrily taking in his food.
Pushing my plate away I began to stand up, the eyes of both my brothers on me. I mumbled a thank you, stating that I was going to retire for the night. Upon reaching my room, my feet brought me straight to my bed.
I sat on the edge, looking out the window, watching the stars that were just starting to appear against the dark blue backdrop. They were scattered across the sky, and I was reminded of sitting on tomato boxes, watching Feliciano sleep softly in our tent, his upper half wrapped in my coat. Shaking my head of the memories, I fell back against the sheets, staring up at the ceiling until I finally fell asleep. That night I was plagued with dreams of Feliciano's soft hands running across my skin…