How I'd Wished to Forget: GerIta

"Holy Rome, you promised me you would come back. You have to come back because you promised!" Italy was trying to give him a serious look so he would understand how important it was to return, but Holy Rome was looking at Italy's lips.

"What...? Oh, yes, I promise I will return to you, Italy." Because I love you, he added.

"Holy Rome, you must be careful. Going to war is difficult. Herr Austria told me you could get hurt."

Holy Rome finished packing his things and gave Italy a lingering look. He built up his courage and took the few small steps to get to the little Italian. She's so beautiful up close. Her amber eyes and soft brown locks... I wish I could stay here, with her... But I must go to war! Holy Rome sighed.

"D-do you not wish to see me before you go?" Italy's eyes started to tear up.

"No, Italy! That's not why I'm sighing..." He found his courage again, "I'm sighing because I want to be with you, instead of going to war..." He looked down in embarrassment.

Italy's tears were quickly blotted from her face. "Really? Holy Rome, that's a very nice thing to say to someone that will wait for you to return," she held out her pinky, "I want you to promise me. Not with just your words, but your actions, too."

He saw her finger and placed his to where it looked like they were completing a puzzle. "I-in my home, there's another way to sh-show someone you promise something."

Italy knew he wanted her to remember this promise so she asked, "What do they do?"

While their pinkies were still meshed together, Holy Rome leaned in closer to Italy's face. "The person that promised something has to give a special...gift to the person he promised something to."

Italy leaned in more, curious as to what this something was. "What is it, Holy Rome?"

The small empire whispered to the Italian, "A kiss," and placed his lips on Italy's.

She didn't seem surprised at his actions, but welcomed them.

Their small kiss lasted a few seconds, but was broken by Italy. "Please come back. You have promised me everything that you will. Be careful," she whispered, and took a step back. "Go. You need to go to war to defend your empire. Go, before I change my mind!" Italy's eyes got misty again.

Holy Rome gathered his things and quickly left for battle. "I will return, Italy!" he yelled.

---

Italy woke up crying again. His hair was tousled, and he was naked, the covers not revealing his lower half.

Germany entered the room with a glass of warm milk. He'd been up late, knowing the nightmares would probably strike again. "Italien, it's alright. There are no monsters, or-"

"Ger-Germany! It wasn't a nightmare this time! I-it was something I wished to forget!" he sobbed.

The German set the milk down on the nightstand and turned to face Italy. He made sure he was...decent, then sat at the edge of the bed. He was silent for a moment before asking in a soft voice, "Do you want to talk about it...?"

Italy continued to sob in reply, so Germany left and got some tissues.

When the blonde returned, Italy was sitting on the bed waiting for him, his sobs now little sniffles.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Germany gave him the box and waited beside the bed with his arms crossed.

"I-I don't know. I'm afraid that if I do, you will be angry with me. And if I don't, you will be angry with me, but for a different reason..."

The German was slightly surprised at this, but kept up his mask. "Italien, why would I be angry with you? You haven't done anything-"

"That's just it, Germany! I've been in love with someone else-" The Italian stopped, and Germany saw something he'd rarely seen: Italy blush.

Germany looked amused at the confession, but gestured for the Italian to continue.

"W-well, I was younger, just becoming a country, and there was this other boy. He looked like you," he looked to Germany, then glanced back at the foot of the bed, "but was younger. He was strong, like you, and he always knew how to make me feel better. He's the reason I started liking you, Germany. And he promised he'd come back, but he never did! He broke his promise! He left for war one day and never came back! I started to forget who he was, and then I met you. You look like him and sometimes act like him, but you don't talk like him. He was always kind with his words. You yell at me more than you talk to me. And sometime you ignore me. Holy Rome never would have done that!" The Italian started to cry again. "I just don't like this! I was in love with him and he never came back..."

Germany watched as Italy started to rock himself with his knees tucked to his chest and mutter things in Italian. Lately, he'd been having recurring dreams and it unnerved the usually stoic German. He always dreamt about the same cute girl with brown hair, and she always seemed to be doing chores. "Ita, I think I know how you feel," he whispered. "I always seem to have these dreams where this girl is doing chores or asking me to paint a picture of a rabbit... I can't remember who she is, though. I only have small memories of her, but she's still in here," he said and gestured to his heart. "The boy you see in your dreams, I'm sure he's been with you the whole time. You just have to take the time to remember and he'll be with you."

"But he promised, Germany! Promises aren't meant to be broken!" Tears were speckled about the brunette's face, and more threatened to spill from the floodgates.

"Ita, Ich weiß, Ich weiß. I get on to you if you aren't at training when you've promised to be there the day before. If you break too many promises, you lack others' trust and they are suddenly disappointed in you." Germany whispered the last sentence. "That's why it's important to make promises you can keep."

"Germany...?"

"Ja, Italien?"

"What else did the girl do in your dreams?"

"...Well, she always sang soft songs... They were beautiful. Italian, I think. She also got scared easily, especially in thunderstorms. Yet, she was the bravest person I know. That day, when I went off to war, she tried not to cry, knowing we'd probably never see each other again. She'd made sure I was carefully packed, then wished me well... Th-that...that was probably one of the hardest days of my life, saying goodbye to the one whom I loved in secret, never to see her again..." Germany let a few tears fall before he quickly sniffed and wiped his eyes. "But that was then, and this is now. Italien, are you ready to go-"

There was a rummaging sound as Italy dug around in the drawer of his nightstand. "Germany, Germany!" the Italian muttered.

"Was? What is it, Ita?" Germany looked perplexed.

A small "Aha!" was murmured.

"Ita, what are you-" the German withdrew his voice quickly as he gazed upon something he hadn't seen in a hundred years. "I-Italy, where did you get that?"

"I got it from Holy Rome before he left for war," the brunette said, smiling.

"B-but, I... I drew that!" Germany was still gazing intensely at the drawing of the rabbit he had made for the cute girl in his dreams, er, memories.

"Don't you get it, Germany?"

"Was? Nien! Ich verstehe nicht! How could you have that?! I gave that to the cute brunette girl that sang in Italian-" For an instant you could actually see the recognition on Germany's face which was then followed by confusion, doubt, confirmation, and, finally, hope.

Italy waited patiently and whispered, "Germany...?"

"...Ja...?" Germany was still trying to catch up with his thoughts.

"I'm the little ragazza in your dreams. You're the Holy Roman Empire. When I was working for Mister Austria and Miss Hungary, I always did chores around the house, like cooking and cleaning. Back then, I had to wear a grembiule so my clothes wouldn't get dirty. And because I have the drawing, that means you must be Holy Rome! How could you have his memories and not be him? When you were little, did you blush a lot?"

"Ja, but-"

"Do you still have the painting I gave you?"

"The portrait? Ja, but-"

"Germany! You're still my first love! I'm not worried anymore!" the Italian exclaimed, looking jubilant.

"I-Ita, I... I'm going to need some time to think about this properly-"

"Germany, do you still love me?"

There was a small pause.

"Ich...Ich weiß nicht..."

Italy held back a small cry. "G-Germany...!"

"I just need time to think about this..."

Italy remained stock-still on the bed, not giving the German his much-needed space. "Do you... Do you remember the promise?" Italy whispered and held up his pinky.

Germany's mind flashed back:

"I want you to promise me. Not with just your words, but your actions, too."

Germany glanced down at the girl's finger. He intertwined their pinkies and said, "I-in my home, there's another way to sh-show someone you promise something."

The girl leaned forward slightly. "What do they do?" she whispered.

Germany leaned in to make the little space between them disappear. "The person that promised something has to give a special...gift to the person he promised something to."

The brunette leaned in even more, their lips practically touching. "What is it, Holy Rome?"

He whispered, "A kiss," and gently touched his lips to hers.

Germany shook his head to ward off any other returning memories. Then, he nodded slightly. "Ja, Italien, Ich erinnere mich." Germany then leaned forward and whispered, "I promised I would return," gently capturing Italy's lips.

The Italian made a small moan and deepened the kiss, but the need for air overcame the newly-found addiction for one another.

"Ita... You don't know how much I've missed you," Germany stated, tears of happiness trickling down his cheeks, their foreheads resting together.

"But I do know. Even though neither of us had figured it out, we knew it in here," Italy said, and gestured to both of their hearts. "I missed you, too."

And for the first time, in more than a hundred years, the promise was fulfilled and another was made --

"Ti amo. I promise to stay with you forever."

"Ich weiß. Ich liebe dich."