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To the Moon and Back

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The day had been fairly average. The weather in Berlin was nice all day, nothing special. Not too hot, not too cold, no rain, no clouds. Just fair weather and sun. It was like nothing could go wrong, but nothing good would happen, either.

I sat as I watched the nightly news. An accident on the autobahn, a missing child, someone got an award for something… I sighed. The same news there was every day. Prussia was in my basement, doing nothing… or at least, I hoped he was doing nothing.

“Bruder,” I shouted, “if you’re drunk again I’ll kill you!” His response was groggy and slurred, so I couldn’t understand what he was staying, but I knew that he was, indeed, drunk. I slid down on the couch and thought. Where was I headed? I was taking care of a drunken loser, I wasn’t doing the best economically, my past was holding me back, and…

And…

And I still hadn’t confessed my love to Italy.

I looked around for something alcoholic and spotted a half-full glass of beer. Sure, it was warm, but that didn’t matter.

“Oh, and a supermoon is supposed to be spotted tonight. Make sure you get the chance to see it while you can!” The chirpy news reporter’s face lit up, but then, the story ended and she had to move on, “And now to Christian with sports.”

I did a spit-take and ran to the basement door. “Gilbert! There’s going to be a supermoon tonight!” I yelled as I swung it open.

“What?” he moaned as he fell off his bed, wearing nothing but the sheet wrapped around him.

“The moon. It’s going to look huge. I’m going outside to see it. You’re not going to be able to see it tomorrow. Come and see it!”

“Ludwig, I don’t care.” Prussia shot me his “you-know-what-happens-when-you-bother-me-when-I’m-drunk” glare. “If you want to see the damn moon, then go see it yourself.” His yellow bird flew to an empty birdfeeder and chirped loudly.

“Your bird is hungry,” I remarked, blandly.

“So?” The bird continued to chirp. “SHUT UP, GILBIRD!” Prussia screamed.

“Okay…” I slinked out of the basement and closed the door as quietly as I could. Shaking my head, I twisted the knob of the white screen door that lead out to the backyard and stepped out into the crisp air of the German summer night. I sighed again as I looked up at the sky.
“Wow…” Though the moon did not look bigger, it was as bright as ever. Almost like-

“Germany, Germany, Germany is a really really nice place. Even though I’m your prisoner, you give me food, and it doesn’t suck like English food…” Italy was calling.

“Hallo.” I answered. My heart began to race.

“Ve~! Ciao, Germany!” Italy’s voice was as cheery as ever. “It was really, really, hot! How was it at your place?”

“Not too bad,” I answered. “Hey, where are you right now?”

“Home, why? I’m cooking.”

“Go outside.” I hope I don’t sound like I’m giving him commands.

“Why? The pasta will be overcooked,” Italy whined.

“Just go outside.” I thought for a minute. “Please?”

“Okay, Germany!” That was one of the bests thing about Italy. You could do anything, and no matter how badly his feelings were hurt, if you said “sorry” or “please,” he would perk back up and go back to being your… best friend… “So… what am I looking for?”

“Um…” I looked around. I walked over to the lawn and laid down as if I was one of the people who would lay down with their lover and stare at the night sky. “Just lie down and look up.”

“Alright!” Italy then began to announce his actions as he performed them. Italy, why do you have to be so cute? “I’m walking to the door… now I’m opening the door… and I’m walking to the grass… okay, lying down- Oh! Germany, look at the moon! It’s so bright and shiny! Oh, I’m so glad you told me to see this! Grazie, Germany!” Italy, why do you have to be so cute?

“Nichts… Nichts zu danken…” my cheeks reddened as I responded to his thanks. It was so amazing, like he was right here next to me. Like we were lovers staring at the night sky. I even reached out with my left hand, but I remembered that he was miles away, at his house in Rome.

“Italy?”

“Yes, Germany?” I could hear him ve-ing as he waited.

“There’s… there’s something I want to tell you.” My heart wasn’t racing anymore. It was pounding.

“Okay!” Italy exclaimed. “What is it?”
“Well…” I pressed my hand against my forehead in frustration. “I…”

“Germany, it’s alright, you can tell me.” I pursed my lips. “You can tell me anything. Really.”

“Okay…” I muttered. “Here Goes… Italy, I-”

There was a long pause. I couldn’t bring myself to it. I just… couldn’t.

“Yes?” He seemed a little… impatient. What was I supposed to do? I had to tell him something…

“It’s an incredibly beautiful night.” Almost as soon as the words came out, I swore I heard him whisper, “Huh?”

“It sure is, Germany.” Italy pulled himself back together. “It sure is.”

We continued to lay down on the grass, looking at the moon, saying nothing.

“Well,” Italy said as he stood up, “I think I should go. The pasta is probably way overcooked now, and mio fratello is probably going to strangle me…”

“Right… you should get back to that.”

“Okay… Bye, Germany!” Italy exclaimed.

“Bye… And Italy?”

“Yes?” He even sounded like he was smiling.

“Guten nacht, Italien.”

“Buonanotte, Germania,” he giggled as he hung up.

I rubbed my upper arm and sighed. I’d have to tell him sometime…

I glanced at the sky again and smiled. I’d tell him when the time was right. And that time was not now. But I would tell him. One of these days, I would.

“I love you.” Tears, though I couldn’t tell if they were of joy or pain, fell down my cheeks. “To the moon and back, Italy.”

“To the moon and back.”




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