Looking back, Italy couldn't find a time when Germany had cried. He was always the strong one, always the brave one. Germany was the one that could tie shoes! How could he be reduced to a sobbing pile of emotion?

Ludwig kept his back turned. From Italy's spot in the door way he could just make out the weeping tears, and a telegram.

"ve~ Doitsu..?" The rustic brunette started to say, but another heart breaking snort from the blond stopped him mid thought. The least Ludwig could do was cry like a man instead of a child who's favorite toy was just broken. "Doitsu?…what?…" He tried again, this time with a helpless hand reaching forward. Not that Italy would dare try and touch Germany at this point. The famous German blood was somewhere in there, and he wasn't going to be the one to bring it out in this situation.

"It's nothing…Italia…" The blond nation managed to say in his deep commanding voice. However, there was that hint of everlasting sorrow that just would not fade. No, it was more guilt than sorrow. Not that Italy would know of course, reading the atmosphere was not his cup of tea-or shall we say, favorite flavor of gelato?

Gelato.

That always made Italy feel better! It had to do the same for Germany!

In a flash, the idiot nation had been to the kitchen, spooned a healthy amount of the dessert into a dish, and ran back to Germany's bedroom. "ve~ ve~ ve~" He panted, holding the bowl out. "th-this, Doitsu, try this.."

"No…thank you" The German man answered with a wave of dismissal. "Italia, I would really…like to be alone now. Training is over for the day. Do as you-do as you please." Wiping those tears away, and hold the others back, must have taken all of Ludwig's will power.

"If you would just tell me what is wrong, Doitsu.."

Several times Germany tried to speak, and the words were lost to the suffocating air. Finally, from deep within his soul, he found the words to fill horse sound and say, "…He's not dead…" Ludwig hissed, crunching the telegram in his muscular hand. "…He can't be…" He was going to rip the letter in two. Italy as right, there was the famous German blood starting to boil right before his very eyes.

Yet he dared ask the question "neh~? Who's not dead?"

"…My bruder…" Germany said with a defeated nasal snort. He turned around; blue eyes turned red from the emotion streaming down his cheeks. "Italy-he can't be dead. Gilbert, he can't…he just…"

Italy was on the man like ants to candy. Cupping Ludwig's cheeks, resting their foreheads together, Italy started to cry. For the first time in his life, the brunette was able to read the atmosphere.

He knew that Prussia was gone. He knew that Germany was dying from the news. Italy knew-and he knew he knew.

"Si, Si, he's not gone…he's here Doitsu." He said, placing a hand over Germany's beating heart. "always here…"

Hating this feeling of vulnerability, Ludwig pulled way from the Italian. Once again he turned his back, and glared daggers at the floor. Gilbert had not spent the majority of his life raising a weakling! No, He would expect Germany to stand tall and proud like a solider! He'd expect Germany to raise his beer glass high in a toast of honor. Above all, Gilbert would expect Germany to stop crying like a child.

No, Gilbert would expect Germany to treat "Italia-chan" kindly. So, just as Italy reached the doorway again, Ludwig called out "…was that gelato for me?"