I'm Not Insane - GerIta

"How are you, Isaly?"

Ve, I'm doing well, Germany!... and yourself?

"... I'm fine. Enjoying your coffee?"

.... I can't taste it Germany....

".... I'm sorry."

---

Germany flipped through his newspaper, expression as cold as ever, a warm cup of coffee in one hand. The table was oddly empty, the house completely silent- he was alone. Nobody else lived with him, and nobody had visited him in months. Not since that day.

Not since Italy disappeared.

---

The snow was stronger than Germany had ever seen before. It was nearly blinding, and when he attempted to lift a foot, he was nearly knocked over. Italy was nowhere to be found, and when he called his name, his only response was rough wind. Only a few minutes later, though it seemed like days, he'd started getting... tired. No, exhausted. He was seeing things. Shadows, in the distance. Hearing shouts.

Gunshots.

And a dark puddle of blood, that looked like something had been dragged away from it.
A murder.

---

"He followed me home, I swear!"

"... are you sure, bruder?" The albino looked worried.

"Ja! I... I heard his voice, zhe ozher day... you have to believe me! Please, Prussia!"

Prussia sighed and leaned back, biting his lower lip. "Bruder... I zhink you're overreacting. You have to-"

He barely jumped out of the way as his little brother leapt to his feet, the table flipping onto its top. "Nein! I'm not freaking out! I'm not insane! If you don't believe me, get out of my house!"

Prussia was surprised at Germany's reaction, but sighed, and left without a word, nonetheless.

---

"Ve, Germany!"

The blond looked towards a coffee cup, his own now empty and resting on the table. The other was still full, and had most likely gone cold. "Ja?"

"You look so handsome today!"

Germany chuckled and looked back to his newspaper. "Danke."

"You're welcome!"

He recognized the disembodied voice, the giggle that followed his last words. Italy... He knew he'd followed him home, he just hadn't seen him. Surely, it was some sort of game, right? Italy liked playing games, right? Right.

It's not like he refused to believe that Italy was dead. He couldn't be!

---

author's note: I couldn't think of anything to add, so sorry 'bout the crappy cliffhanger. <3