Over and Over (Hetalia fanfic, GerIta)

 Even Ludwig's well-disciplined mind began to wonder—and secretly worry—about where Feliciano was. He dropped by Ludwig's every day, normally, but he hadn't for a while. Was something wrong? Was he being attacked? His chest felt tight and painful when he briefly considered that maybe Feli hated him now...

He mentally slapped himself for thinking such a thing. You didn't have to spend more than five minutes with the Italian to realize that hatred was simply not in his nature.

Although he had tried to cover up thoughts of Feli with thoughts of work, it wasn't effective. Shaking, he considered that his attempts to hide the feelings he had denied for so long were just as effective. He had, after all, an older brother who would be more than happy to tease him and rub it in his face. Ludwig could practically hear his teases already.

The German almost wanted to call, to make sure he was okay. But everyone else would suspect something, wouldn't they? So he couldn't. Still, he couldn't concentrate with the idea of Feli in danger. Maybe some running would help...but it still won't be the same as when Feli runs with me. More like behind me. Or in front of me. Where is he now..?

Just as he was walking out the door, the phone rang, and his speed of running to it surprised even him. He violently grabbed it and held it to his ear, saying as calmly as he could, “Hello?”

His ears were greeted by the sound of Feli crying, which stabbed him deep in the heart. “What's wrong, Feli?”

“Arthur captured me! Please get me out! There's no pasta here!”

Despite his worry for Feli, Ludwig facepalmed at how Feli magically made every situation revolve around pasta. He was surprised that Rome didn't have a pasta god or something. “O-okay, I'll come get you. Hold on, Feli!”

Looks like I'll be running anyway.

~

Ludwig arrived at the English prison and his inner military man grimaced at its poor quality. However, today it would serve him well, so he would bear its existence.

It was a small prison, so it wasn't long until he found Feli cowering in a cell while Arthur guarded him with a maniacal smile, although Ludwig doubted he really needed guarding. Hoping he could intimidate the Englishman into compliance with minimal effort, he growled, “Give him back.”

Arthur laughed. “Did you really expect that to work? Of course I won't give him back!”

Ludwig punched him, and Arthur backed up a few steps, wiping the blood spilling from his mouth. “Bloody wanker! What the hell?!”

“Now will you give him back?” Ludwig asked. He didn't think it would work, and he hadn't expected the punch to either, he just wanted Feli out of harm as soon as possible.

“No! I can take a punch!” Arthur said in his angry way. Ludwig was trying not to get distracted by his five eyebrows. Seriously, what on Earth made that happen? But he'd have to debate that later. He pulled his pistol out, aiming between those nightmarish eyebrows. “Now will you give him back?”

Arthur scoffed. “Ha! No. Guns don't scare me.”

So Ludwig, with a glance at Feli sitting there scared and defenseless for strength, pulled back the hammer and tensed his finger on the trigger. It irritated the hell out of him; everyone knows you weren't supposed to actually put your finger on the trigger while aiming, what if you were startled and accidentally squeezed the trigger and shot the wrong thing? But he had to, for Feli.

When Arthur remained unresponsive, or more like smugly defiant, Ludwig quickly aimed for his leg, and without a second thought, shot it. He felt a tiny bit guilty when Arthur crumpled to the ground, screaming and cursing, but the thoughts that Feli was safe now swiftly overpowered that. He swiped the key off Arthur and unlocked the cell door. Feli greeted him with a hug, and Ludwig cursed his pounding pulse, it was so loud and forceful surely Feli knew it! But Feli just smiled up at him.

You unlocked the door to my heart as easily as I the door of that cell.

“Grazie mille, Ludwig!” Feli said, reverting to his native language.

“Bitte,” Ludwig said, blushing so hard at the elongated hug he almost forgot how to speak at all, having only a vague recollection of German. He cursed himself for such a display. “W-we should get out of here, ja?”

“Si!” Feli said, breaking the hug to cling to Ludwig's arm. They walked out, ignoring Arthur's screams behind them, and Ludwig took Feli to his house to make absolute sure he was okay. He even offered to make pasta, for which the hungry little Italian was grateful. As he washed dishes, Ludwig watched Feli happily consume his pasta out of the corner of his eye.

I feel dead without you.

I fall for you over and over again.

I can't get these thoughts of you out of my head.

It brings me down because I know you can't possibly feel the same.

Despite his general obliviousness, Feli noticed something was off. “What's wrong, Ludwig? Are you angry at me?” he asked as he brought his now empty plate to him.

“No...” Ludwig whispered, but his inner mind yelled THIS IS THE TIME TO TELL HIM!

“Come on, tell me, Ludwig!” Feli urged.

Fine, I'll tell you.

“Ich liebe dich.” His face was on fire and he shut his eyes tight, not able to look him in the face. He opened them when he felt a kiss on his cheeks.

Feli was blushing just as much as Ludwig, and smiled almost shyly—Ludwig had no clue that he could be shy in any circumstance whatsoever. It was unbearably adorable.

“Ti amo, Ludwig.”