Title: Una furtiva lagrima
Fandom: Hetalia Axis Powers
Genre: Tragedy/Angst
Pairing: Germany/Italy
Rating: rated T for tears

Second in the "Blood, Sweat and Tears" series

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia and I'm not Donizetti – not even related. Actually, I don't have an Italian bone in my body, which is kind of sad, since I really love Italy (as opposed to France, even though I do have some French ancestry…)

Background: "Una furtiva lagrima" is an aria from Gaetano Donizetti's opera "L'elisir d'amore". Wikipedia offers you both the Italian text and English translation, and there are dozens of different versions of it on youtube. It does appear to be a "must have sung" for all great tenors…^^

Summary: Being left by someone you love is the worst kind of betrayal

Rain fell on Rome, cool, heavy droplets slowly descending upon the Città Santa, the Holy City. They ran together to form tiny streams between the cobblestones that swelled as they ran on, a silent but unstoppable force, until they finally rejoined the Tiber.

"Una furtiva lagrima
negli occhi suoi spuntò..."

Rain splashed against the windows, painting the outside world, the dwindling afternoon, in shades of black and white and grey. They were the colors of unfulfilled hope, heralds of despair. The sound of the falling rain seemed to dampen and soften all other sounds.

"... Quelle festose giovani
invidiar sembrò..."

All background noises suddenly appeared hushed, even the soft creaking and hissing of the old record; as if all the world were listening to Mario Lanza performing and sharing his secret sorrow.
"Ve…" – Feliciano snuffled and passed a hand over his eyes. He knew that they were probably red from crying and that his face would look swollen and horrible by now…
The worst part of it was that he didn't even know why he was crying. He had been assaulted by a sudden, inexplicable bout of sadness and his world had dissolved into tears. There was no apparent reason for it: Ludwig had left, but he had said he would be back soon, and Ludwig always kept his word. He had even kissed Feliciano before striding out of the door, the briefest touch of warm lips to his front, then he had pulled the hood of his heavy brown cape over his blond hair and stepped out into the rain.

"... M'ama! Sì, m'ama, lo vedo. Lo vedo.
Un solo istante i palpiti
del suo bel cor sentir!"

Feliciano wiped another tear from his cheek. "Ti amo, Germania…" he whispered, as if trying to explain his mood. Outside, darkness was quickly unfurling its wings and covering the city. Rain streamed over the faces of the angels on the Ponte Sant'Angelo and made it look as if even they were crying.
Maybe it was a presentiment, or maybe precognition, but he felt as if he had been left alone… abandoned once more by somebody he loved, somebody who had sworn to protect him and promised to come back…

"... I miei sospir, confondere
per poco a' suoi sospir!"

Why, oh why did it feel as if Ludwig was never going to come back? As if something inside his heart had shattered and broken into a thousand glassy pieces?
It was ridiculous. Ludwig had promised to come back.
Ludwig always kept his promises.

"… Cielo! Si può morir!
Di più non chiedo, non chiedo…"

"Germany!" he wanted to cry, "Germany, Ludwig, come back! Don't leave me!"
But his lips remained sealed, and his feet stuck to the wooden floor, and his eyes staring out into the rainy twilight, searching for that lone, tall figure in his dark cloak, soaking wet, his high boots splashing as he stepped through puddles, returning home… returning to Feliciano, his Feli…
But he never came.

"… Ah, cielo! Si può! Si, può morir!
Di più non chiedo, non chiedo.
Si può morir! Si può morir d'amor…"

Twilight became darkness outside, and Feliciano still remained frozen, staring out of the window, his hope fading with the dimming light until there was no trace, no shimmer of it left.
Finally, and with a sigh he moved. Fumbling fingers lit the one small candle that was much too feeble to light the room, let alone the fill the hollowness in his soul with warmth.
Its flickering light caught the movement of his slender hands and reflected dully off the grayish metal object they now lifted.
The movement was slow, but there was no hesitation. To the last moment he had hoped, but now all hope was gone. He knew.
The metal felt cold, pressed to the exact same spot where Ludwig's lips had placed their last kiss.
A shot sounded through the eerily quiet room, before the night swallowed everything up in silence once more - A wisp of smoke rose as the candle snuffed out.

"Ti amavo, Germania…"

Città Santa: Holy City, poetic name for Rome

"Ti amo, Germania…": I love you, Germany

"Ti amavo, Germania…": I loved you, Germany

Please read & review!

Italian is not one of the languages I am fluent in, so if you find any mistakes, please point them out!