Italy snuggled up close to Germany, sighing contentedly at the warmth the sleeping German provided. Now, Italy knew that if Germany woke up and found him in his room - in his bed and so close to him - the most-likely hung-over nation would be very, very angry. But Italy didn't care. He just wanted to stay warm and to keep Germany company.

Germany, however, had other plans. He groaned quietly before rolling over and looking the small Italian nation in his eyes. Germany moved slowly, so as not to agitate his headache any further. A few silent moments passed before Germany moved again.

"Italy..." he murmured almost inaudibly, blinking rapidly to clear his vision. His voice was raspy, and it sounded as if he had been eating shards of glass.

Italy stared at Germany silently, his large eyes even wider than usual as he waited for Germany to scream at him for being in his room and to get out of his house. But the little Italian was definitely shocked when Germany wrapped his arms around him, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of Italy's head.

"I'm so sorry," Germany mumbled against Italy's head, his hair muffling Germany's voice slightly.

Italy began shaking. "F-for what, Ger-Germany?" Italy asked, trying to control the fearful shivers that were racking his body. Germany just held the Italian closer to his chest, pressing another kiss to the top of his head.

Italy blinked his eyes rapidly, trying to clear his sleep-fogged brain. Maybe that was why he thought he just heard Germany apologize. Because Germany never apologized. Not the harsh, tough-as-nails nation that Italy had fallen head-over-heels in love with all those centuries ago.

Italy heard Germany sigh. He sounded pained. Like something was troubling him. "For being so... mean to you last night. You were only trying to help me. To... get me to leave the bar before I drank too much and hurt someone. And I didn't listen. And for that, I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. I guess - I guess I was just so... depressed. I mean, my bruder isn't coming back. And last night... I don't think I was able to accept that. And I took all my frustration out on you. I said so many horrible things to you. I made you feel so... worthless. I never meant for that to happen, I really didn't. I just... I wasn't myself last night. I'm so terribly, terribly sorry..." Germany had so much more to say, but he had to stop talking before he started crying. And that really would have scared the Italian nation.

Italy didn't know what to say. But thankfully, he was saved from having to say anything because Germany began to speak again.

"I know how you don't like it when I go to a bar and drink. Especially as much as I drink. So, for you, I promise I will never step foot inside another bar. Ever again." Germany pulled his face away from Italy's hair, trying to fight the tears that threatened to spill over. It had been decades since he had last cried, and he had definitely never cried in front of Italy. And he wasn't about to start.

Italy was dumbstruck. Germany had said a long time ago that the way he and his fratello drank was part of their culture. And Italy knew first-hand how hard it was to give up even a small part of your culture. It nearly killed him every time he went over Germany's or Japan's and they wouldn't let him make everyone pasta. Italy was kind of afraid to know how Germany would act if he stopped drinking as much as he normally did. But... Italy definitely didn't like it when Germany went to bars. Because then he always got scary drunk and would be extra mean to Italy and make him cry...

Italy's eyes filled with ears of joy. He grabbed Germany on either side of the head and planted a kiss square on his lips. "Oh, grazie, Germany, grazie! I always knew you loved me!"

Germany groaned. "Yeah, yeah. I guess I do love you, Italien."