Don't Go

Memories

"Holy Rome!" A soldier called out to Holy Rome, who was trotting down the street with a painting in his hand. "Once you're ready, we'll leave right away, okay?"

He looked sad and stopped, staring at it. "Yeah," he said quietly. "This is that last one."

A different soldier (that was standing next to the other one) turned around and looked at him, seeing the painting in his hand. He sighed. "Paintings take a lot of space. You should leave them behind." The soldier strode over to him and glanced down at it in his hands.

It was a picture of a red haired 'girl' wearing a green and white maid's outfit, sleeping on a pink sofa.

"Oh?" He asked, laughing. "What's that? Is that someone you like?" Holy Rome did not reply, still looking down at the painting, and the soldier continued, "But hey, that's the servant kid."

"I - It's not like that!" Holy Rome replied quickly, blushing. He was not ashamed to be with Italy because of his status, but worried that they'd talk about him unfairly and that Holy Rome would have to defend Italy.

"Then what?"

Holy Rome lowered the painting in his hand, staring out into empty space, the memories flooding him again. He remembered Italy first running up to him, Italy in Hungary's dress and Italy when he found him...
There was no chance he could let go of Italy. He had to keep all his memories with him, because after all, this was all for him.

Italy was strolling down the street, a bucket of water held in his hands. "Hm?" He asked, and then saw Holy Rome with a painting. "Ah..."

Holy Rome looked at Italy, and he could not help but feel a little guilty after how he had left him before. Does Italy hate me now? He wondered, their eyes meeting, as Italy stared back with so much intensity, the water swaying in the bucket in his hands. Time seemed to slow down and Holy Rome could feel his heart racing, unable to maintain a calm demeanour. It hurt to see Italy staring at him like that, because he was no longer how he was before.

It was ironic how he was doing this all for Italy, and yet this wasn't what Italy wanted. Holy Rome wouldn't change his mind because this was the only way he could prove himself to Italy. By proving he was the strongest, able to fight against anyone and protect him from everyone.

He still loved Italy, and it was devastating for him to be rejected after he had explained his feelings. It did not matter so much, anymore, because Italy and him... they were not meant to be. They never will be.

This is it. She won't forgive me.