If you're here, that means you didn't want the fluffy ending and actually wanted to know how this all started. Not only does this chapter do that, but it gives a good reason as to why Romano hates Germany with a burning passion~!
Thanks so much for reading this story.
Italy watched Germany running from the back. It was another day of training, and another day of failing. It wasn't his fault he failed at Germany's training. He was too focused on wondering how to tell Ludwig that he loved him. Really truely loved him. He stopped running and panted. Ludwig stopped beside him.
"Italy! You're not done yet! Keep running!" He scolded. Feliciano nodded and began running again. He looked over and saw Japan sitting in the grass with the brown cat the Italian had adopted and named Parsley. How come Japan always somehow got done first?
Italy completed his laps like Germany wanted. By the end of it, he was too tired to worry about his feelings. He flopped down in the grass and let out a large sigh as Parsley crawled onto his chest. She let out a meow and curled up on him, falling asleep.
Feliciano made sure Japan was gone, then he spoke.
The German looked at him.
Now he had to choose his words carfully. If he did it wrong, he could lose everything. Italy decided to use his Italian language since he was too scared to say it in English.
"Ti Amo." Germany didn't seemed fazed, or even touched.
"Ja, I know." He blew him off. Feliciano could feel his heard shattering under the tiny paws that was kneading against him. Ludwig didn't love him at all. He didn't even notcied the Italian's feeling for him. The smile faded from Italy's face and he rolled over so that his face was in the grass. Parsley jumped off when he rolled over, then curled up on his back.
"What did I miss?" Kiku asked when he returned.
"Nothing." Germany replied. Feliciano silently let tears slip out of his eyes and into the grass.
Just my heart being broken.
"You can do this Italy, you're not a coward."
His hands were shaking as he laid the blade against his wrist. Had he really been pushed this far? Feliciano continued to think about what had happened. Germany turning him down, the voices in his head, laughing at him, telling him that Germany hates him and would never love him. The depression and anger over took him, causing him to sink the blade into his wrist.
"GAK." His face was frozen in silent pain. Italy was hunched over, the blood dripping out of his arm. Why, oh why the hell did he do this? As carefully as he could, he removed the blade and worked on the other wrist. Cutting in layers like you would when peeling a carrot or any kind of vegetable. Absent mindedly, he began to write letters on the ground in front of him in his own blood. Just so his mind had something to focus on in the blinding pain.
There was a knock on the bathroom door.
"Fratello? Fratello you in there?" Lovino called in. Feliciano did not reply. He had forgotten about his brother.
"Damn it Feli! Open this door now!" Italy didn't move, he couldn't.
"1...2...3!" The door burst in as Romano kicked it with his foot. He gasped at what he saw. Romano quickly ran to his brother, and removed the knife. He swore and cursed and scolded in Italian, yet none of it fazed his brother, who stared at the floor with emotionless eyes.
Lovino stopped shaking him and followed his gaze. His eyes widened as he looked straight at what was the cause of his brother's suddenly madness. It was written in Feliciano's own blood.
Ich liebe dich, Doitsu.