Work Text:
Italy was young and living with Austria when he wrote this letter to his beloved Holy Rome. He never sent it, he didn't know where to send it to, where was his Holy Rome?
"Dear Holy Rome,
I hope you are safe where you are, and having enough to eat and drink. I miss you and I hope you come home safe and sound.
It's been really quiet around here without you, there's no one that I can teach to paint, and there is no one around here who is actually my age.
I miss you Holy Rome.
I hope you come home soon.
Love Italy"
***
Italy was now roughly 22, he was lying in bed having just woken up, he didn't want to get out of bed, it was warm and cozy, an image of Holy Rome flashed in his mind, he sat up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes, he sighed.
"Holy Rome." He muttered. He got up and got dressed ready for the day to come, he went to make his bed, and he noticed a slip of paper sticking out from under the bed. He picked it up and began to read, the letter. As he read a single tear drop fell onto the page. Italy wiped away his tears and folded the slip of paper and put it under his pillow, he walked out of the room and shut the door behind him, ready for another day of training, with Germany and Japan.