Gerita: Why?

We were having coffee at an Italian café. Just him and me. We were talking about pasta, and pasta, and more pasta. He obviously refused to change the subject, but I allowed it. I loved his sweet smile. I loved his little curl.

"Doitsu, I got this watch from Japan the other day!" he shoved his wrist into my face. I saw the small hearts along the rim. "Every time I look at it, I think of you! Ve~"

I smiled slightly. I don't know why I love him, but something about his personality caught me attention. "That's a nice watch Italy," I replied.

"You really think so?!" he yelled. He raised his hands in the air and knocked over my coffee and it spilled all over him. "Oh no!" his smile quickly turned into a frown. I got out of my seat and wiped the coffee off of his shirt. "Thank you, Doitsu!"

I grunted. I walked back to my seat and checked to see how much coffee I had left in my cup. There wasn't much left. He smiled instantly as if nothing happened. I loved his smile.

"I went to big brother France's house yesterday!" he said. I didn't like the sound of that. "He cooked me great food!"

"What kind of food?" I asked.

"I don't remember what it was called, but it was delicious!" he nodded his head and his curl bounced.

"What else did you do there?"

"We watched television," he said, "and we snuggled under a warm blanket on the couch!" Snuggled?! Oh no. "Once it got too warm I started scooting away, but big brother France wanted to stay near me."

"Italy don't go to France's house anymore," I said sternly.

"But why? Big brother France is so nice!"

"Just don't, I don't like his behavior towards you," I sipped some more coffee.

"Come on, Germany! His cooking is better than yours," I know Italy didn't mean it, but it got me angrier.

"Nein! I don't trust him."

"But you can trust me!" he had his sad eyes. How I hated those sad eyes.

"No, Italy. I can't trust you all the time. You just always get into trouble and sometimes I can't handle it!" I said.

"Doitsu…" he muttered, "I thought you trusted me." I couldn't argue with him anymore. Why did he have to be so stubborn? I grabbed my coat and left him there alone. I spotted my car on the other side of the street.

"Trust. This isn't a matter of trust," I muttered to myself as I crossed the street. I stopped in my tracks as I heard tires screeching. I looked up and saw a huge truck skidding my way. Almost a millisecond later I find my self on the concrete on the other side of the road. I recollected myself and looked at the street. The truck had stopped, but what lay on the road nearly killed me.

I ran as fast as I could to him. People crowded around and the truck driver kept apologizing. I held Italy in my arms. Many cuts saturated his body with blood, but most of it came from his head. Panicking I picked him up and started running towards the hospital, but an ambulance made me stop in my tracks.

"Hold on now. Hand him over and we'll get him to safety," the American man said. I laid Italy on the stretcher and piled into the ambulance. I was silent the whole way. I was only thinking about his conditions. The blood scared me the most. He lost so much of it. We arrived at the hospital and he was carried away to the emergency room. I was left in the waiting room. My hands were stained with blood. His blood.

Many people asked me if I wanted food, but I refused. My only concern was he. He saved my life, and I wished to return the favor. Thinking about the worst made me start to form tears. No. I couldn't show weakness, and I forced myself to stop. Why did I have to argue with him? I got angry and made him sad. Yet, out of his love for me, he sacrificed himself. The guilt made me want to die. What kind of terrible person am I? I buried my face in my hands.

A nurse tapped my shoulder and told me that Italy was in his room. I sprinted over. I saw Italy lying in bed with a bloodstained bandage wrapped around his head. The doctor was standing at the bed. I ran over to Italy's side grasping his hand.

"Sir, we couldn't do much. The damage was overwhelming," the doctor said.

"SO YOU DIDN'T DO ANYTHING!?" I yelled.

"No, we tried everything, but it didn't help. I'm sorry," the doctor said patiently. He walked out of the room. I stared at Italy worriedly.

"This can't be happening," I said. I closed my eyes and wished everything away. I tried to make my regrets disappear. I wish I were kinder the last moments I had with him. I wish I didn't get angry. I wish I made him happy one last time.

Italy moaned slightly. I opened my eyes and looked up. His eyes twitched a little. "Italy?" I said.

He slightly opened his eyes, "Ve~?" he said softly.

"Are you alright?" I asked anxiously. He didn't respond. His eyes moved to mine. "Italy, please stay with me."

He muttered something I couldn't hear. "Can you smile for me? One last time?" I asked him.

"Wh—who are you?" he muttered. I knife went through my heart. I grasped his hand ever tighter. How could you forget, Italy? But before I could say ich liebe dich one last time, he breathed his last.