March 17, 1861

The Unification Of Italy

Veneziano's eyes were red and puffy from crying all night and he prayed to God that his fratello wouldn't notice. The whole time, he just hunched his shoulders, looking at his worn white flag and constantly fidgeting it from time to time. He was restless, he was scared. He also tried to make himself be as small as possible.

They placed a gun between Veneziano and Romano and the brunet avoided looking at it. He couldn't bear the sight of this weapon knowing what it meant but he knew that sooner or later, he had to decide. After all, he was the one that first brought up this 'Unification' thing. He only wanted to be with his brother, to have his fratello be happy, but most of all, he wanted everyone to recognize that he wasn't just 'Italy' but both his fratello and himself were. He never thought that for those to happen, they had to go through this.

Out of the blue, Romano stood up, slamming his hands at the table. Veneziano jolted from his seat at this sudden action and he doesn't know why but he felt deathly nervous. His heart thundered in his chest and his thoughts were nothing more than a frenzy. "I'll do it." He couldn't believe his eyes when Romano took the gun.

A little too late.

Because he had chosen to be cowardly at a wrong time, this happened. When will he be able to act strong enough even just for the sake of his brother? When will he be able to be the brave one between the two of them? When will he able to decide fast enough?

Veneziano's eyes widened and he took a sharp intake of breath. But before he can even mutter a word, Spain abruptly stood up, angry. "Lovino Vargas, no." There it was again. Someone always beat him too it. He was always too slow. Always a little too late. He was never good enough even at desperate times like this.

"Oh, so you would rather have mi stupid fratello... Dissolve?" Veneziano winced at the reply of his brother to the Spaniard.

The little Italian could see that Spain was no longer angry and his voice softened. He suddenly felt bad for the Spaniard. After all, his big brother Spain was only trying to protect his fratello. He, at least, knew that much. "No, I didn't mean it that way-"

His brother cut off the other nation with his well-known smug look. Although Romano seemed satisfied with himself, Veneziano knew that that wasn't really what his brother felt. "Then it's decided."

Decided? No, his brother can't possibly do this all on his own. Veneziano had to do something- anything. The Italian didn't know what came into him but he suddenly found himself yelling, "Fratello! I can't let you do that." Everyone's eyes were suddenly on both Romano and Veneziano.

The next thing that happened isn't like anything he expected. Romano's face contorted in spite, hatred, and even disgust. There was a horribly strong pressure that settled in the entire meeting room. Veneziano wasn't sure if he was the only one who felt it but it was definitely there. Of course, the little Italian knew that his brother would disagree and cuss him out but that wasn't the only thing that happened when Romano opened his mouth.

"Shut the fuck up, North Italy." For a moment, even Romano looked as if he was bewildered by his own words. But that didn't last long because he quickly added, "I'm not doing all this shit for you."

Veneziano's mind immediately went blank. For an agonisingly long time, he couldn't feel anything. The pain, the lurching of his stomach, his death grip on his little white flag; he was numb all over. He didn't even notice that his flag was already on its way to meet the ground and that he was crying as he tried to mumble the only word he can muster out, "...F-Fratello?" When he said that, it finally hit him. All the emotions he tried to suppress suddenly came flooding out and it was very very painful.

It wasn't the way his brother talked to him that stabbed him deep in the chest, it was what his family called him- North Italy. It struck him hard and he thought he suddenly went deaf, that he thought the world had stopped moving. He couldn't have possibly heard that right. His brother would call him ANYTHING but that.

"Go to sleep, stupid fratellino. It's 3 in the fucking morning."

"Because I said so, idiotic brother of mine."

"Are you that dumb, fratello? I won't eat any of that bastard's crappy food!"

Even as Romano tirelessly flung insults at him, he always referred to Veneziano as his brother. Always, without fail and he did the same to the other Italian but to be called, 'North Italy' was like having a line drawn between them as those two words echoed over and over again in his head. And to think that the person who drew the line, who built the wall between them is someone he least expected to do so: his brother. That was what hurt most.

"Don't fucking call me that. I hate it. Do you have any idea what the heck I had to go through because of you?"

The Romano in front of him wasn't the brother he knew. It can't be him. His brother must've been pressured, stressed, or maybe even hungry. Veneziano tried to find a possible reason for his fratello's action. Surely, if his brother was himself, he wouldn't say any of those- he'd never do anything like this at all!

So after toughening up, the Italian took small steps toward his brother. Maybe if he can just get Romano to listen, maybe if he can help clear up his brother's mind, then everything would be back to normal. Reaching out, he said, "Don't say that, fratello. W-we can find a way around this."

Romano was obviously gritting his teeth, probably pissed. But he didn't say anything. There was only silence so Veneziano took this as a sign to continue.

Veneziano was practically pleading despite the nonchalance his fratello showed. "There must be a way without having any of us to..." The coldness in his brother's eyes were starting to get to Veneziano. He wanted to run away, to cry out, but if he did any of those now, then he'll just be the same as before; useless, pathetic, incompetent, and most especially, a disappointment. So he choked back his sobs and finished his sentence. "Go."

Romano closed his eyes, surprisingly calm. Did Veneziano's words get through him? Did he finally get himself back? The little Italian was almost dying with anticipation. His heart was wildly pounding in his chest along with the pain.

"Are you that fucking dense? Well let me spell it out for you. I hate you. I've always been a shadow-your shadow and do you know how difficult that was? All I want is to end this goddamn misery of mine and you wouldn't even let me? You're pretty fucking selfish, did you know that?"

'What? That can't be...' Veneziano held his breath as he tensed.

Romano paused, trying to control his temper. At least, that's what he looked like to Veneziano. "I thought by now you would realise this, North Italy."

He thought he wouldn't hear anything much more painful than being called, 'North Italy' but he thought wrong.

Everything his brother spouted did make sense. He understood every single word of it that it hurts. Maybe his brother has always hated him all this time, maybe the brother he spent time with and loved was all in his head. Was this really all that his brother thought of whenever they were together? The entire time, he didn't even reconsider or thought about what his brother felt. Like what Romano said, he really is selfish after all. But all of this somehow felt off.

Veneziano wasn't really aware of what happened next, but he found himself slapping his brother right across the face. By the time he got a sense of what just happened, there was already a red hand mark that appeared on his fratello's cheek and it swelled almost immediately. He stared wide-eyed, stupefied. His brother didn't cringe or even react to the pain but he just gazed at Veneziano with nothing but harshness in his now-dull olive green eyes. What did he just do? What... Has he done?

"I didn't mean to do that, fratello. I-I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" The younger Italian began to apologise, his unruly curl disfigured. He really didn't mean it. He swore to God that he really didn't...

Veneziano knew that he hit his brother hard, he knew that it must've hurt a lot. Honestly, he's surprised that his fratello didn't even do anything about it. He wanted to at least ease the pain he caused in the first place so he reached out a hand to hold Romano's cheek but the other Italian swatted his hand away.

"Did you hit me because I was right?" Romano spat out, laughing coldly. The kind of laugh that sent shivers running down Veneziano's spine. He then scoffed right after. "Of course, I fucking am. And I meant what I said. I hate you, so don't touch me next time or I won't be the one getting shot."

That was it. Veneziano had heard enough. His trembling knees finally gave up, and his strength, every last bit of his strength left, was drained away. He finally broke down crying, muttering the apologies he failed to say during all those moments he spent with his brother: The apology he failed to say whenever his brother had to fake a smile just so he wouldn't feel bad, the apology he failed to say when his brother was forced to deal with someone as dense as Veneziano, the apology he failed to say for being useless, pathetic, for being always too slow, too late. For being himself.

He didn't notice that his brother has left the room. Also, he doesn't know how, but Hungary was by his side. Is Hungary also forced to deal with Veneziano too? Is she just pretending that she cares because he simply pities Veneziano? Does she think that Veneziano is selfish as well? The young Italian doesn't know anymore.

"Feliciano," Germany, who was now by his side as well, patted his back. It was strangely soft, warm, completely in contrast to how he sees Germany act. But is this all an act? No, Germany was definitely different. Veneziano can feel it. "breathe. It's alright, it's alright. It's not your fault."

Veneziano couldn't say anything with his violent sniffles and loud sobs. Whenever he tried to say something, his sobs would get in the way and it was difficult for him to breathe. Hungary then pulled the hyperventilating Italian into her arms while the German attempted to help calm the Italian down.

Austria approached the two nations and crouched down, lending Veneziano his handkerchief saying, "Italy, we understand. You don't need to say anything."

The brunet managed to vigorously nod at Austria as a reply.

In the middle of the Italian's crying fit, America impatiently jolted up, knocking his chair over in the process of doing so. "I can't stand this anymore! As the hero, I have to do something about-"

"Alfred, need I remind you that you are not in any position to decide." An angry Englishman interrupted.

The American flailed his arms. "But, Arthur, you know that this is..." Alfred paused, looking lost. He then bit his lip before saying, "uncalled for!"

England gritted his teeth. Of course, none of them liked this delicate matter. "Enough of this bloody childish talk!" The Englishman stood up, slightly furious. He rubbed his temples after, suddenly aware of the scene they are both causing. "Please, Alfred. Do us all a favor and just... Behave."

"Arthur..."

"Not another word." England snapped back.

Hungary, with the help of Germany, somehow managed to get Veneziano to calm down and have him return to his seat. England glanced at the two nations, and both Elizaveta and Ludwig nodded at the Englishman. With this, England took a deep breath and proceeded to exit the room and go after Romano.

Hungary took the Italian's hands with her own and with glossy eyes, she muttered, "Everything will be alright, Feli." before returning to her own seat as well.

Veneziano wanted to ask the Hungarian how everything will be alright. How this is alright. His brother hated him to the point of wanting to die and what did he do? What is the only thing he has ever done? Cry, run away, cower in fear? But no. The words got stuck in his throat and he just swallowed it back. Oh, why did he only realise this now? Why did he only realise when it was too late?

Not long after, England returned with Romano and Spain trailing behind him. When did Spain even leave? Maybe the Italian was too distracted in his own pain that he forgot to care about his brother's, that he forgot about the nations who cared for his fratello. Sighing deeply, Veneziano thought that he was indeed selfish.

Romano headed towards his own seat, beside his fratellino. His gaze was hard but Veneziano noticed that his brother's eyes were puffy and red as well. Something felt off again. Has his brother been crying? He did look flushed- was it from anger? Was it, perhaps, from weeping? The puzzle was being slowly pieced together. The argument with Spain, the bewildered look his brother gave when he said, 'North Italy', then this. It's starting to make sense.

His fratello grabbed the gun from his pocket slowly, as if he had all the time in the world. By this time, tears were threatening to spill out from Veneziano's eyes again but this time, it wasn't because he was hurting, it was because he finally understood. It has always been the other way around, the opposite. His brother was never direct, he was always showing what he felt in a contradicted manner. His brother wanted to save him, to spare him from the guilt which was why he acted that way. The Italian knew what to do.

"Es tut mir leid; I'm sorry..." Germany leant into Veneziano's ear and whispered in sympathy.

Funny how Germany acts so much like someone he knew back then, his primo amore- Holy Roman Empire. He said the exact same thing before leaving for the war. The irony is that this time, it would be Veneziano leaving. This time, he will do something about it, this time, he will be the one protecting others, this time, he won't be too late just like he was years ago. He won't repeat the same mistake anymore.

"No, Ludwig. I'm sorry about everything." He gave the German's hand a squeeze. The German was thrown off by this.

Romano pointed the gun to his head, and paused, flashing his brother a relieved smile. At that exact moment, Veneziano was on his feet and he didn't waste a second to grasp the weapon from his fratello's hand.

His brother stared at him, shocked and Germany as well.

"FRATELLO!"

"FELICIANO!" The two nations yelled at the same time. Through this, the final piece was placed. His brother did care and that was all he needed to know before he would go.

Veneziano gave his brother a smile, feeling satisfied. This time, he won't be a little too late. "I love you, fratello." And the trigger was pulled.

A/N: So yeah, remember the first time I posted this, I fucked up real bad with historical inaccuracy? Well, I tweaked it up a bit...

Btw, regarding why all nations were in a meeting-esque setting: So all of them are simply "representations" of their countries, right? Physical and humanoid representations. So, a couple of months back, I thought that since this is a matter of a "representative" dissolving, the other representatives somewhat had a say in the matter or had to discuss this. So this is more of them as representations rather than the nation itself. I swear, the explanation sounded better in my head than when I actually typed it down xD

Meaning: they were aware of each other's presence (even if the nations themselves have never engaged in anything together YET) and as individuals, they had their own emotions, feelings, and a will of their own (aside from their nation's will, of course).

Before ya'll say anything, I know, I know. The actual unification was awkward. Just needed to spice it up a bit, y'know? FEELS AND ANGST FTW.

Oh yeah, I deleted a chunk here that screwed up the historical accuracy. That was the main edit and deleting it actually did help so no need to worry about whatever the first version of this was. I made a mistake and by correcting that mistake, I'm able to improve, accept the fact I messed up, and move on.

Thank you all for reading this! Thank you for the various reviews regarding the story (especially you, Guest reviewer, because I wouldn't be able to notice that slip-up if you hadn't mentioned it. Bless you.)