Stars in the Sky

Chapter 19: It's Dark

A shadowed room. The doors are closed, and the windows are only opened to let the cool, night air in. The curtains are drawn per the blond's request. Music plays in the background, filling the suffocating silence that nearly drove the boy mad. He lays on his bed, his hair a grimy mess, as he stares up blankly at the ceiling.

There is a small crack of light from the door, and standing behind it is the blond. With his blue eyes, he never stopped looking at the brunette. He's been like this for months. He never left the house, and the man was worried the kid was going to die at this rate. He'd refuse to eat anything more than what was necessary to live, and the only time he'd drink would be when he was forced to.

America tried to get him medication, thinking he just developed depression and it'd go away. However, that didn't seem to be the case at all. The teen wouldn't speak to anyone about it. Not even him. He almost never left his room, and he'd play the same couple of songs over and over again. All had a common theme: heartbreak.

The man knew something was wrong. Molossia never acted like this before, and now that he was it was more than slightly concerning.

He let out a sigh before closing the door, leaving the boy to himself. He then walked downstairs where Canada and Mexico sat. The former was the first to speak.

"How is he?" he asked.

"Same as always," he replied. "He just...lays there, all day, not moving at all. It's almost like he's dead!"

"Dios mío, Alfred, don't say that!" Mexico scolded the younger nation. Even though he didn't become a recognized nation until much later, he was founded first when Spain visited North America. England was nowhere near the continent's shores then.

"It's true!" the blond exclaimed, taking a seat with his brothers. "I'm worried for the kid. What if his nation ends up collapsing? He's much smaller, and not as powerful. He won't recover as fast. He might even-"

"Don't even finish that," Canada warned. "Look, Al, the kid's just going through a rough time. He'll be okay."

"But what if he doesn't, Mat? He won't even tell me what's wrong! How am I supposed to help if I don't know what's even going on?"

Canada's eyes went wide, and he glanced over at Mexico. The southern nation looked back at him with furrowed brows.

"Hey. Don't look at me, man. I don't know what's going on either. You guys leave me out of a lot of your personal stuff."

Canada sighed at this. "I guess I'm the only one out of the three of us who knows then..." The northern nation sat up straight and placed his hands firmly on the table. "Okay. So, to start off, Molossia and Serboga slept together-"

"Oh. That. Yeah, that's the national gossip everyone's spreading," Mexico giggled. "Didn't think it was true."

"Shut it, dude," America groaned. "Go on, Mat. Did something happen again?"

"I guess so. He seemed pretty distressed about it when he came to me for advice," the other replied. "I don't know what's happening, but maybe Romano and Italy could tell us next week during the meeting?"

"But is the kid gonna live another week?" Mexico asked, raising an eyebrow. "I know we don't want to think about it, but the gringo's got a point."

Before America could make a remark, Canada stood up from his seat. "I'm gonna go talk to him."

"Dude, are you sure that's a good idea?" America asked. "I mean... He won't even talk to me of all people. What makes you so sure it'll work?"

Mexico scoffed. "Please. You give him enough reason not to speak to you."

The blond looked back at his southern neighbor, his eyes narrowing. "What is that supposed to mean?"

Canada rolled his eyes at the two. "Don't kill each other until I come back," he told them. "I'll be quick."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Laughter and singing was heard throughout the house. Veneziano danced wildly with Germany, leading the taller nation as he set up a rhythm. Romano laughed each time he messed up, commenting how a "potato bastard can't even tell his left from his right" before he was lightly scolded by a smiling Spain. Among the partying was Seborga, who sat in his seat with a rather awkward smile on his face. Hutt was next to him, holding his hand under the table.

The blond looked over at his boyfriend. "Everything alright, Seb?" he asked.

"Si. Si. I... I'm okay," he lied. "Just a little exhausted after today."

"Ah, cazzate," Romano laughed. "You two should go dance up there! Teach the potato bastard a thing or two, eh? Enjoy yourselves! You're still young!"

When Seborga told his brothers of his relationship with Hutt, it wasn't exactly as he expected. For one, Veneziano was pretty much himself. He said he'd support Seborga no matter what, but he couldn't help notice the sad expression on his older brother's face. Then there was the case of Romano, who practically celebrated like it was their independence party all over again. He ran around the house screaming "the American bastard is gone!" in Italian before insisting they have a get-together.

Which brings us here.

Seborga glanced at the floor, the unsettling feeling in his stomach growing worse at the prospect. There was a dull ache in his chest too. It didn't feel right somehow. None of this felt right somehow.

Nonetheless, he wanted to please his brothers and stood up to dance with Hutt. The couple walked to the front of the room, Veneziano and Germany taking their seats, before the music started up again. They got into position and started to dance a casual waltz. Hutt lead the dance, Seborga following his movements, and for a minute everything felt fine.

The blond turned him at just the right times, and held him rather close during the more mellow parts of the melody. His hand was clasped on his waist while the other held his own palm gently. The Australian nation looked at Seborga with so much love and affection.

It killed the Italian.

It killed him to see his friend care for him so much. The queasy feeling returned, and Seborga's hand flew to his mouth to catch the rising bile. The dance stopped, and everyone looked at him with concern. Feeling their eyes on him, he dashed away muttering, "Excuse me."

Seborga ran up into the bathroom, closing and locking the door behind him. He then leaned against said door before sinking onto the tiles below. He didn't hold his knees close to his chest like he felt he wanted to do. Instead, his body felt limp, and he stared up at the ceiling with pained eyes.

He knew he could never return Hutt's feelings. With every month that passed within the year, Hutt's affections for Seborga grew more and more. The Italian wished he could say the same. Instead, he felt more distant and more guilty. It felt like he was leading his friend on.

He didn't want to end the relationship just yet. It'd break the poor guy's heart, and imagine Romano's reaction after he planned this party in less than a day! He didn't want to deal with that.

So, the Italian was content with slowly seeping back into sorrow as he dreamed of Molossia sitting there with him. Of Molossia dancing with him, and smiling and laughing by his side at family dinners. He couldn't cry anymore, however. His tears have long dried up.

"He doesn't want me," the Italian reminded himself. "He doesn't want me. I'm just a good friend."

Seborga spent almost half of the party in the bathroom, surrounded by the darkness in his mind.

____________________

Okay, time for translations!

Dios mio - my god (Spanish)
gringo - it's basically what a lot of Latinos call white people. It's kind of an insult. (Spanish)
cazzate - bullshit (Italian)

That's about it in terms of new words and phrases. Hope you all enjoyed!