He couldn't believe it. He didn't want to believe it.

But that was the complete and utter cruelty of having a boss whose mind wasn't quite right and held the lives of thousands in their hands that was forcing him to commit this act.

'The Alliance is no more.' This being the first thing he heard when reporting to his boss on this particular morning. 'We attack the Italian boarder in the morn.'

This was the point in time when Germany's heart had completely shattered. Only the previous afternoon had him and Italy been perfectly happy.

After the usual unsuccessful attempts at training, the two nations had decided to do something they never usually did and they paid a visit to the cinema where they saw the latest Harry Potter. Neither really enjoyed it though. It was more of England's thing.

Note that he was only a few seats ahead of them copying down spells into a little note book.

Upon their return to Germany's house, 3pm had called Italy into a siesta. And Germany caught a glimpse of Italy undressing.

There was no way it was possible. He had seen Italy naked a thousand times if not more. Then why did he look so different to him now? It was as if he was glowing or something. Luminescent almost.

Only a short while later that same afternoon had he walked into his room and he saw Italy fast asleep on his bed. Again there had been a difference in the way the German saw him, this time accompanied by a dull ache in his chest.

Germany had no idea what the new feeling was or why he had begun to feel this way.

He had still been pondering over this when Italy had awoken and dressed. He came out to where Germany was and he said goodbye as Romano had been bugging him to come home to help with the cleaning and other housework that needed doing.

But as the Italian was walking out the door, Germany acted on impulse and reached out for the younger nation, snagging his fingers on the boy's shirt.

For the next few seconds, the German's blue eyes were met by Italy's brown ones.

Italy had been as clueless as ever when Germany had let go of him and scratched the back of his head, face burning as he cast his line of sight elsewhere.

'Just make sure you don't do a half-assed job.' He said.

Italy veee-d, smiled and saluted.

'Yes sir commander sir!' He said before running to Romano's car, (he had come to picked him up0, when his older twin had blared the car's horn impatiently.

When Italy had completely gone and Germany was alone in his house, emptiness settled in his chest achingly.

Later that evening, Prussia saw Germany acting strangely and asked what was wrong with his younger brother.

Germany had tried to avoid the subject but Prussia had been very persistent until he bugged his brother into telling.

Prussia didn't even smirk when Germany described his feelings and his confusion over them. For the first time EVER… he listened seriously to what Germany had to say and when he had done, the ex-nation stared at him sadly.

'Ah, but bruder, you are not sick. Cos' that is how I feel for little Canada." This always made the Prussian sad because Canada belonged to France.

'What?!' Germany asked not in full understanding of the topic.

'…Just think about waking up to Italy beside you every morni-'

'I do wake up to Italy beside me every morning.'

'… Well then, think about… I dunno… kissing him or something…'

Germany thought what it would be like to hold the lithe Italian close to his body, feeling his breath on his face, his lips on his-

SNAP!

Germany was brought out of his daze by the quick blinding flash of a digital Kodak camera.

Prussia was behind the lense grinning like he had won the medal for being awesomer than awesome.

'Sorry West, but that look on your face was priceless.'

The albino examined the photo on the digital display screen and smiled before he could turn the camera off and putting it in his pocket.

'Ok, two things. One: this picture is going straight onto my face book…' He said with a mischievous glint in his crimson irises.

Germany growled at him angrily. But he didn't say anything as other things were still on his mind.

'And two: I am most definitely 100% sure that I am 99% sure that you are in love West.' Prussia patted his younger brother on the head when he didn't say anything. 'I can't believe a white flag waver has found and captured the soft spot of the mighty Germany… Well it was bound to be there somewhere bruder.'

But the blonde didn't deny any of it and none of his brother's taunts got a reaction from him. It all actually, yet somehow unbelievably, made perfect sense.

And though he got an extremely early night, even for him, he hardly slept for two reasons.

The first was that Prussia had declared that he was going to spend the night playing video games obscenely loud in the room next to Germany's, this being his room and Prince of Persia being his latest favorite video game with it's intolerable heavy metal music.

And the second reason being that when he wasn't being disturbed by the metallic screeching of dieing monsters, Germany's mind kept wandering to Italy. Just like a child eagerly awaiting Christmas morning and the chance to catch a glimpse of Santa Clause, the general was impatient for the morning to come so he could see Italy and confess himself to him. If, IF… He worked up the courage for this seemingly impossible mission.

Germany knew that Italy already knew about the broken alliance and the coming fight the second his boss spoke to him of it.

Italy hadn't shown up for training, obviously, and Germany hadn't received any calls about excuses or a request of rescue from England's cooking.

What made it worse was that Germany was being forced to launch an attack on the Italian border the next day.

No nation, no matter how rebellious, had ever gone against their bosses, especially when that boss held the lives of every person in that nation in the palm of their hands, easily able to crush them. It was a risk too great to take.

And it was up to Germany to decide whether to sacrifice thousands of innocent lives just so he could be happy with Italy.

Or save those lives t ruin his own by becoming an enemy of the one he loves.

He knew Italy didn't stand a chance either. His grenades never went off, his tanks were useless and he had more white flags than guns in his entire army.

And so, on the 5th of February 2015, the German army launched an attack on Italy, much to the surprise of the rest of the world.

Bullets flew through the air, merciless once fired. Screams of dieing men and angry shouts and cries from others filled Germany's ears piercingly.

He didn't fire his gun at all, only engaging in combat when a determined soldier got in his way and tried to stop him.

He didn't have the heart to fight. It was set in the search for the brunette he loved.

Germany also noticed that his soldiers also didn't have the heart to fight their x-comrades, even if they were useless allies.

Germany continually searched for his little brunette. But it was a long while before he found him.

Out of nowhere, he felt a sharp stab of burning pain in his shoulder and his spare hand flew instinctively up to it. Blood flowed freely between and over his fingers. He didn't need to be very smart to know that he had been shot.

He looked up in the direction of his attacker, but what he saw left him lost for words.

Only a few meters in front of Germany, holding a rifle exactly as he had taught him, stood the little Italian that he had been searching for. The familiar ache settled in his chest once again.

Italy was frowning to a point where he looked almost exactly like Romano except that his curl was placed differently. However his eyes were sad and silvery tears streamed down his distraught face making the pain all the worse for Germany. The pasta loving boy's uniform was a complete mess, covered in dirt and blood en masse, but there was no way for the German to determine if it was Italy's or not.

He dropped his gun and stepped forward, his hands out in a gesture of apology, though he found it hard to ignore the pain it caused him to move the limb.

Italy watched his x-comrade for a brief moment before lowering his own weapon.

Germany stepped forward feeling a little relief swell within him. But the blood in his heart turned to painfully piercing shards of ice when he saw the brunette stiffen in an unmistakable pose of pure fear.

It stayed very still as if listening to barely audible instructions being given to him from behind. After a few seconds, the boy nodded very slowly and dropped his rifle.

'Pick your gun up!!' Germany's boss stood behind Italy, pressing a pistol sharply into the small area between his shoulder blades. He whimpered and Germany tensed angrily, hesitating to follow his given orders.

'PICK IT UP!!!' His deranged boss screeched.

Germany knelt down and wrapped his bloodied and dirty fingers around his pre-discarded rifle.

'Now you will kill Italy humanely… Or I will do it slowly and painfully so that you will be forced to stand there and watch him die in agony.' Italy whimpered again, afraid of the fate that awaited him.

Once again the German hesitated. He couldn't shoot Italy. Despite his disheveled appearance, the he saw around the Italian had only grown in blinding immensity.

The gears in his brain clicked and he suddenly felt highly grateful for the chance to take aim. He had no remorse as he aimed the barrel of the gun between Italy's eyes. Actually, relief was very close to his heart and he was somewhat happy that this opportunity had presented itself to him.

Tears streamed down Italy's cheeks in a hurried tumble of panic and fear. Germany knew exactly when he had to fire. He had had years to memorize Italy's reflexes.

The world around them had fallen deathly silent, all fighting had ceased.

Germany clicked the rifle into place, preparing to fire. A bead of sweat rolled down the side of his face. A few of his blonde hairs had come loose from his hair gel and their irritating ends hovered in front of his ice blue eyes. He swallowed to moisten his throat and then he did the one last thing before he pulled the trigger…

'…Italy… GET DOWN!!!'

Italy's eyes widened at Germany's words, his order, and in an instant were on the ground, flat on his stomach.

Germany's boss was completely taken aback, but by the time he regained his senses it was already too late.

The gun shot filled the ears crisply of everyone present.

The now free and merciless bullet connected with the heart of Germany's boss and backwards, collapsing onto his knees.

He stared at Germany with malcontent as the life left him and he began to topple over in matrix style slow mo.

As he lay, dieing in the dirt he used the last of his strength to raise the pistol and fire two shots before dropping it to the ground, finally dead.

Germany cried out as the two bullets tore through his flesh. The first embedding itself into his calf and the second encasing itself in one of his lower ribs on his left side. His rifle fell away from him and he fell backwards. He was only numbly aware of his head being hit by a sharp rock and stars flashed before his eyes. Blood pooled over the wounds, staining his uniform.

Italy scrambled up and half crawled half ran to Germany. He could scream out as he was sobbing uncontrollably. Sitting on his knees, the Italian pulled the half unconscious Germany up to his chest so he wasn't lying completely in the bloodied dirt.

Germany looked up at Italy as he cried he suddenly felt very afraid of death. And the German became completely terrified when his nerves were completely cut off and he slipped fully into the blackness. The last image he saw being that of a crying Italy.

'I know the way around my own house Italy.' Germany said leaning heavily on his crutch.

'Veee… But the Mr. Dr person said that you'd forget some things like directions and stuff for awhile.' Italy pulled on the blonde's spare hand. His other resting on the crutch that he would need until he fully heeled. Italy laughed lightly. He was wearing a buttercup yellow skirt with a big soft pink fluffy jumper.

'Yes I know. He said maybe. I feel fine.' Germany assured him, turning for the kitchen. Italy had done some food shopping for him before getting him from the hospital, though most of it included pasta.

'Where are you going?' Italy asked.

'The kitchen to put the shopping away.' He replied.

'Then why are you going to the bathroom?' Italy laughed as Germany blushed and turned the other way.

'I knew that.'

'Now you're heading back outside.' He said and turned the confused German in the right direction.

'Italy?'

'Yes?'

'Um, I…' Germany turned around o face the Italian. He was glowing again and Germany felt his face begin to burn.

'Germany, are you apologizing agaaaaaiiin… It was that mister nasty man's fault.'

'No, Italy, I…' Germany couldn't speak. All he could feel was his heart hammering in his chest.

Italy's big brown eyes watched the German carefully as he struggled to speak.

'Germany doesn't need to tell me right now if he doesn't want to-'

Germany leaned forward and lightly pressed his lips to Italy's. Italy shied away for a fraction of a millisecond from shock probably. Or maybe it was because he was hungry.

But he instead wrapped his around Germany's neck.

It brought back a memory from long time ago, making Italy tear up.

Using his good hand, Germany pulled Italy into him and deepened the kiss.

His tears flowed as the Italian's did. Things in this world finally seemed right.

Prussia climbed through the window like he did every other night. He knew his way around the dark house very well, retracing the steps he took every night.

He came to the room and opened the door.

France and Canada were fast asleep. Prussia slipped quietly to Canada's side and knelt down on the floor so that their faces were level.

'Goodnight little Canada.' He whispered. He brushed some hair out of the sleeping boys face and kissed the peaceful lips lightly before parting.

At the door he paused and looked back at the one he loved.

'I really HATE you France.' He smiled sadly and then left the same way he had come.

Yay… My first fanfiction actually completed at 2:45am. Ugh, so tired. For comments Iam not too fussed. It's ALL good.