Worth a Try -5-

It had been almost a week since that day. Germany had plunged himself into work. Germany's boss commented on the intensity with which he had been working, only to be dismissed by a vague comment about needing to be more efficient. Prussia tried several times to get his brother to take a break, but was given a different excuse every time. There was a world meeting coming up, and Germany had to make sure that everything was in order. He had been slacking off too much recently, and he had to make up for it. He needed to stay organized.

Germany knew that every single one of his excuses was nothing more than that – an excuse; a lie to his brother and to himself. He was only working this hard to avoid Italy. Italy hated him, he was sure of it. After all, Italy had turned away from him, and had done nothing to contact him since then. Germany scowled at the document in his hand at the thought, and then filed it away. It was useless to think that way. It would only upset him further.

Prussia stood in the doorway, watching his brother with concern. He didn't know what had shaken Germany so badly, but he suspected it had something to do with Italy. "West, you need to take a break," the albino finally said. "You're going to drive yourself nuts if you keep going like that."

Germany didn't answer. He didn't even look up. Prussia waited for a moment before realizing that no answer was forthcoming, and sighed. Other nations may have just considered Prussia an uncaring, egotistical jerk, but he had learned quite some time ago to look out for his family. It was a lesson he'd learned the hard way.

It was obvious that he wouldn't get any answers from Germany. He had to take a different approach. "Okay, West… I'm just going to go and be awesome somewhere else, then," Prussia informed his brother before wandering back to his room. He grabbed a phone and dialed a familiar number before crashing onto his bed.

"Ve, hello?"

"Hey, Feliciano!" Prussia greeted, confident that the Italian would recognize his voice. "How's my favorite little doofus doing?"

"Everything's great!" Italy's voice chirped back over the line. "I was doing some painting earlier and now I'm making some pasta for lunch."

Prussia relaxed slightly. Italy was his normal self, so it was likely that nothing too serious had happened. It was probably just something like the Saint Valentine's Day fiasco all over again. "Great to hear, Feli. But actually, I didn't just call so you could bask in my awesomeness. I wanted to ask you something."

"What is it?"

"Did something happen between you and West a little while ago?" Prussia asked, not bothering to be anything but blunt. "I know he went to visit you, and something's got him really stressed out since then."

There was a long period of silence at the other end of the line, long enough for Prussia to start wondering it Italy had even heard the question. Suddenly, Italy's voice came back. "Ve… Sorry about that. My pasta was boiling over."

"Did you hear what I said?"

"Yeah, yeah, I heard you!" Italy replied, and in his mind's eye, Prussia could see the nation waving his hands illustratively. "Um… I don't think I did anything that would make Germany upset…" Italy's voice trailed off for a moment before returning full-force. "You don't think Germany's mad at me, do you?"

Prussia couldn't restrain a light chuckle at Italy's nearly-panicked-sounding tone. No matter what happened in the world, there were some things that remained constant. Russia was a sadistic creep. France would attempt to sleep with anything humanoid and breathing. Prussia would be awesome, and Italy would be a lovable, adorable, easily frightened idiot. "Nah, he doesn't seem mad," Prussia assured the small brunette. "He's probably just over-thinking something stupid again. Or maybe it's just that he's been worried about that world meeting. You know how he gets."

"Yeah… That does sound like Germany."

Was it Prussia's imagination, or did Italy sound… disappointed? "Hey, Feli, are you sure you're all right?"

"Ve, I'm perfectly fine! Everything's normal!" Even Prussia couldn't miss the slightly too hurried tone, the slight crack in Italy's voice. Before he could ask about it, Italy continued. "Ah! My pasta's done! I have to go!" The line disconnected with a click, leaving Prussia to stare at the rather depressed-looking panda bears on his shelf. He wasn't any closer to answers than he had been before calling Italy. Actually, he just had more questions – why did Italy sound upset by the end of the conversation?

An irritated chirp from a pile of laundry towards one side of the room reminded Prussia that he had other things to take care of, too. He decided to let this mystery sit for a while.

Hundreds of miles away, Italy threw his phone across the room. It hit the wall and landed with a loud clatter, but Italy couldn't bring himself to care, slouching down against the wall instead. Tears rolled down his cheeks as his body shook with silent sobs. Germany had been avoiding him, after all. Prussia's call confirmed that, even if he didn't say so outright. And Prussia could tell that there was something wrong with Italy. Everything was falling apart, and Italy wasn't sure how long he could keep pretending that nothing was wrong. He wasn't even sure how long he could pretend that nothing was different.

He had to call Germany. No. Prussia would wonder why Italy was calling back so soon if he did. And Germany didn't want to talk to him anyway.

Italy wiped the tears from his face. He had to prepare for the world meeting, at the very least. He had to make sure that he could play it off, make it look like he was perfectly fine. The last thing he wanted was for another nation to notice that something wasn't right. He didn't want to think about what would happen if they saw that he was weak again, weak still, weak like he had been in his childhood… If he showed weakness, his childhood would repeat itself. Of that, he was sure.