What Does A Pierced Right Nipple Mean?

This fanfiction was written for the writing community Syllables of Time.



Title: Midnight waltz
Author: mattomero
Fandom: Hetalia
couple Axis Powers: Germany / North Italy
Rating: PG13
Prompt: 5. The ballroom at midnight
Word Count: 336
Warnings: Shounen-ai , set during the World Wars
Disclaimer: The characters described here belong to the author, Hidekazu Himaruya

Notes:
1. The characters created by Himaruya are merely personifications of the various nations of the world if it can offend ... look for another reading. XD
2. Again these characters possess its name "human" but, in the case of Italy (split into two characters by the author, South Italy and North Italy - to emphasize how many centuries for our two "sides" have remained divided ), there is more of a name to which you can refer to. Northern Italy is shown by Himaruya (and soul of Hetalia) as Italy Venetian, while his real name is Feliciano Vargas.

Midnight waltz

The world is plunged into an abyss of madness.

And he is not just a terrified boy, whom the madness and the thunder of guns were stolen sleep. It's just an Italian
any, helpless, awake in the night like many others, frightened the living room empty, with bare feet on cold floor.

"Enough!"

never been accustomed to this music.
the kind that steals your soul, you devour my mind, keeps you from thinking about anything else - Blows away the most tender memories of Austrian piano that played for him, he bursts into his quiet and forces him to keep his eyes open - and he did not take it anymore.

"Stop!"

is tired of fast pirouettes of gunpowder that gets fired halfway between heaven and earth. Tired
dell'assordante minuet of machine guns, tired of the impromptu dance of the soldiers, like a childish game, end all down to earth.

"Stop! Stop it! "

Feliciano never wanted this.
was content to have regained the confidence of Ludwig and to live with him again.
There was nothing else.

"Stop!"

did not need anything else.

"Italy!"


Germany is back. It is incredibly pale and does not seem strong and untouchable as always has been - and there is one hole in the left sleeve of his uniform, so innocently streaked with red - but is back .
is there. For a breath.

"Italy," calling him. Feliciano only now realizes he's still in a corner of the room, crouched on the cold tile floor, barefoot and shivering.
"Another nightmare?" Ludwig wants to know, while his waxen face and tried overlap of just rosy cheeks and divided slowly fades, giving way to the black tank top from the air so well. Italy
shakes his head, feeling the tears emerge with arrogance and the cold turned into a gentle warmth.
"Italy
...?" And the floor is already returned to be a soft bed, when you leave to drown in the warm comfort of his arms.