Italy x Reader- The War was in Color

~*~*~*~*~*~
I see you've found a box of my things -
Infantries, tanks and smoldering airplane wings.
These old pictures are cool. Tell me some stories
Was it like the old war movies?
Sit down son. Let me fill you in

Where to begin? Let's start with the end
This black and white photo don't capture the skin
From the flash of a gun to a soldier who's done
Trust me grandson
The war was in color
~*~*~*~*~*~

The room you resided in muttered not a word as you lay on the carpeted floor, your arms and legs sprawled out across the surface under you. Shifting your head so you were looking at the pile of half filled boxes of antiques, old crafts you had made when you were smaller, and other precious memories you didn't quite care to remember, you sighed. Just the thought of all the things you had organized and went through made your brain hurt.

You just couldn't get the thought of moving away through your head.

Ever since you were told that your mother and you had to move away to a different town because of her job, leaving your old house and all of your friends behind, you just wern't able to think straight. You couldn't really see yourself anywhere else but where you were now. But it wasn't that you didn't want to move. In fact, you were more than happy to go to a new place and see new things. You knew you would see your friends and keep in touch with them while you were gone, and  you knew that your house was old, not to mention small and incapable of holding anymore items you happen to bring in. You were okay with all of it. The only thing you worried about was moving away from your Grandfather.

The thought of having to move away from him pained you. Ever since you were little, you clung to him like pink wadded bubble gum to hair, never quite seeming to let go. He had always been there for you, and you had always been there for him. But for whatever reason, whenever you went to visit, his usual happy face turned a little sadder. You had always tried to put it behind you, pretend not to see it, but it always seemed to dig into you a little deeper each time you saw the italian man. Behind that smile lied much sorrow he had held onto for so long.

You shook the thoughts from your mind, bringing you back to all the still-empty boxes that surrounded you. Cursing silently under your breath, you began to fill them with random objects that happened to be laying around, just wanting to be done packing all together. But, knowing that your Mother would get onto you for taking too long of a break, you continued stuffing things into the cardboard space. Your hand fumbled over to the cabinet beside you and carefully grasped a framed picture. The captured memory of you at your fifth birthday party roamed through your mind, just reminding you of how much you were going to miss everything. You crossed your legs, packing away the fragile frame into the bottom of the new box you pulled infront of you.

Not two seconds later did your mother stumble into the living room, two dusty, clear containers held tightly in her arms. She poked her head up from above them, the tiredness of a long, hard day reflected in the small dark marks under her eyes and the little yawn she gave you before a smirk. "Hello, sweetheart."

"Hey." Stuffing a yellow beanie baby bear with a white birthday hat into another box, you peered up to her.

"How are things going?" She asked you, making a grunting sound as she set the heavy boxes by the front door, wyping the beaded sweat off her brow with her wrist.

You simply shrugged, holding an old, ragged stuffed rabbit between clenched hands, staring into its black, lifeless glass eyes. Setting it ontop of the beanie baby, you moved onto the next object, not even bothering to look over to see what you picked up. Your mother gave a sigh, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear as she knelt down beside you, gently stroking your head. You flinched under her soft touch, arching your back down and staring at the item in your grasp. She gave you a pained look, as if you had just broke her heart in half, and gave you a defeated sigh.

"I understand you don't like the idea of moving, ______, but there's nothing much we can do about it now." She said as soothingly as she could, placing her hands in her lap and staring down to your blank, emotionless face. "You can always stay in touch with your friends at s-"

"That's not what i'm worried about." You whispered, your voice bitter and hoarse. "I don't want to leave Grandpa all alone. He's just...been through so much."

Her eyes softened, another sigh escaping her chapped looking lips. "Look. Your Grandfather is more than capable of taking care of himself." She raised herself up, dusting dirt off the front of her old black shirt. "I'm sure he'll be fine."

"It's just that ever since Dad died," You murmered, squeezing the stuffed animal in your hands. "He's been a little more distant."

She rubbed the back of her neck, not uttering another word to you as she stared down onto your fixated gaze. Not giving you another word, she padded into the kitchen with her green flip flops slapping against the carpeted floor. You heard the fridge open with a clack, the sound of leftover bottles and such clanking against each other.

Silence.

Your mother came back into the living room with a glass pan, tinfoil messily wrapped over the top of it. "I was going to save this for supper tonight, but if you want, you can bring it over to your Grandpa Italy and have it with him before we leave tomorrow." She said, handing you the container. "It's Capellini with Asparagus and Pancetta. I'm sure he'd appreciate it if you gave it to him."

Your eyes squinted, pondering at the exotic like name you had never heard before. Had she ever made this type of food before, or was it just one of those times where she found a recipe on the internet and decided to try it out? Thinking she was just trying something new, you took the glass container and lifted the tinfoil to have a strange, pungent odar waft into your nose. Noting the green stems, paper thin white cheese slices, and egg topped on stringy noodles, you put the top back on and held it away from your face. You looked up to your Mom, she gave you a slight shrug, her arms crossed over her chest.

"I thought it might have been good." She said, looking down to the food in your hands. "The websight said the yolk was supposed to melt right into the sauce, giving it kind of a...rich, silky texture. I guess if you don't like it, just take the egg off the top and eat the noodles."

Letting a sigh escape your lips, you headed towards the front door and slipped your (f/c) shoes over your mis-matching socks. You opened the door with one hands, making sure the dish was firmly grapsed in the other. The summer afternoon heat instantly filled the house, making you wish that your Grandpa didn't live six blocks away from your house. Just as you set your first step outside the door, your Mom piped up behind you.

"Tell your Nonno that I said ciao, okay?" She asked, clearly proud of mastering the few italian words that she knew.

You rolled your eyes, and shut the door behind you.

I'm coming, Grandpa.

~*~*~*~*~*~
From shipyard to sea, From factory to sky
From rivet to rifle, from boot camp to battle cry
I wore the mask up high on a daylight run
That held my face in its clammy hand
Crawled over coconut logs and corpses in the coral sand

Where to begin? Let's start with the end
This black and white photo don't capture the skin
From the shock of a shell or the memory of smell
If red is for Hell
The war was in color
~*~*~*~*~*~

You slowly felt your hand make it's way up to the white door of your Grandfather's house, knocking on it just loud enough for him to hear. You wyped the sweat that rolled down your face in droplets, tapping your foot against the concrete steps. You held the glass between your hands, the refreshing coldness of it like ice on your palms. You soon heard the light sound of footsteps making there way towards the door, the lock making a clicking sound as it was unhatched. The door opened a crack, the hazel brown eyes of your relative peeking out. His usual smile washed over his face, the door opening even more to reveal the young looking italian you knew and loved.

"Oh, Ciao bambino~!" He chirped happily, pracitcally leaping out the door and wrapping you in a bear hug. You smiled in his shoulder, gripping the back of the blue military uniform he never quite seemed to take off, all the while holding the clear container. The sweet scent of Cantula flowers filled your nose, eliminating the one of food your mother had made.

You unwrapped yourself from his grasp, giving him a warm smile as your eyes wandered to the inside of his house. Your smile instantly left and was replaced by a look of worry, seeing that old looking boxes were spread throughout the living room floor, objects of his dotting the carpet that lined the ground. Was he moving too? You looked up into the young, lively hazel eyes of your Grandfather, giving him a curious look.

"Are...you moving too?" You asked, tipping your head slightly.

He looked behind him, peering at the boxes on the floor, then back over to you.
"Oh, I was just...going through some things." There he went again. His voice went a little less cheery, his overall happy-go-lucky attitude sinking. He looked down to the item in your hands, trying to change the subject. "What is that, tesoro~?"

You held up the food your Mother had made, and he carefully took the tinfoil off the top, the smile he had when he opened the door once again blooming. "Capellini con Asparagi e Pancetta~!" The italian beamed, smelling the odar that you took to a disliking. He picked a piece of Asparagus off the side, popping it into his mouth and melting into the flavor that burst into it. You gave a disgusted look, putting the foil back over the top. In all honesty, you would never understand what it was with adults and vegetables.

You slipped past the man on the porch and into the living room with the boxes scattered this way and that. Gino, your Grandfather's incredibly old but still active feline, strode into the room, arching his back and stretching as he did so. The tabby cat gave a deep purr, rubbing up against your pantleg, his tail wrapping around your ankle. You bent down to pet him, scratching the spot just above his tail. With this, Gino licked his course tounge across your hand, rubbing his face up against your fingers. The more you visited and saw the cat, the more you relized that he was just like Grandpa Italy. The happy attitude of the cat matched his exactally, the tiny curl on the feline's head was placed right where his was, and even the few colors it had matched the italians. The only thing that sepperated the two was age. You had known since you were very little that your Grandfather was different from everyone else, and he made a point to explain that to you. He was a country. You were never informed just how old he was, but it was far older than anyone you had ever seen. This surprised you greatly when you were young, but now that you had seen him as much as you had, it really didn't faze you.

Giving one final pat to the elder cat's head, you headed towards the kitchen and set the glass on the counter. You could hear the front door shut behind Italy, his happy skipping visible to your ears. Smirking to yourself, you lifted the tinfoil off the top, balling it up in your hands and shooting it into the garbage can next to you. It missed by a mile, bouncing off the top of Gino's head and landing a few inches beside him. Alarmed, the cat whipped around to see the ball laying on the ground. You could see him eye it for a moment or two, contimplating his next move. Pounce the attacker, or just go on with his buisness? Forgetting all that surrounded him, the white and brown cat leaped onto the ball, knawing on it between sharpened canines. A giggle escaped your lips as the italian walked into the room and picked the ball off the ground, setting it into the garbage can onto of old, yellowed newspapers. Gino seemed to give off a triumphent smile, believing he had just saved the day from the horrible tinfoil ball beast.

"Hey nonno, I can help you clean out a few of your things while we eat some of Mom's.." You eyed the concoction in the pan, not quite sure what to call it. "Intresting substance."

He gave you a smile, grabbing a spatula out of a droor as if he was already one step ahead of you.

~*~*~*~*~*~
I held the canvas bag over the railing
The dead released, with the ship still sailing,
Out of our hands and into the swallowing sea
I felt the crossfire stitching up soldiers
Into a blanket of dead, and as the night grows colder
In a window back home, a Blue Star is traded for Gold.

Where to begin? Let's start with the end
This black and white photo don't capture the skin
When metal is churned. And bodies are burned
Victory earned
The War was in color
~*~*~*~*~*~

After the two of you had dished out some of the food, placing it neatly on white glass plates and making your way into the living room, you sat down on the carpet infront of an old box covered in dust. You set your plate down on the small, dark red couch behind you, dusting the top of the box off with the palm of your hand. Italy sat down next you, practically inhaling the egg that you had generously gave up to the man. Revealing the top of the box, you noticed that it was sealed shut with clear duck tape. You found the edge of it, peeling it away and taking off some of the cardboard box with it. Gino, who had since creeped up next to you, planting his behind on the white carpet, let out a tiny sneeze as you ripped more tape off.

You unfolded the side of the box, revealing what seemed to be a type of brown cloth. Though it had looked to be in the box for who knows how many years, it kept a perfect appearence, folded as neatly as it could possibly be. Feeling the material between two hands, you relized that it was not just cloth, but a type of uniform. You unfolded it, hoping to reveal to what it might have been. Down the middle of the suit sat four golden like buttons, each one with the same, breathtaking design. There were two breast pockets, each buttoned up with the same round button as the middle of the coat. The collar was folded down neatly, revealing a tiny star on the tip of the left side. You looked up to your Grandfather, who was wyping a spair noodle from his chin, hoping he could tell you the story behind the uniform.

He set his plate aside, looking over to you, then down to the suit you held in your hands. A small smirk formed on his face as he gently moved his hand across the sleeve.
"That was the military uniform I wore in World War II." His eyes seemed to glisten as he spoke, memories of the past flowing through him. "If i'm correct, there should be a sash and hat that belonged to this somewhere."

Your gaze left his as you peered into the box, seeing if he was right.
And just as he had said, there sat a flat, black rimmed hat with yellow and blue designs plastered on the front. You took it out, only to reveal a long, plain blue sash folded up beneath it.

"They're both in here." You said, looking back over to your Grandfather.

He was looking down the the suit he held loosley between two hands, not seeming to pay your words any attention. You simply returned it with a sad like smirk, setting the hat and sash down on the ground beside you, fishing your hand back into the box to see what other treasures it held. Not two seconds later did you pull out a yellowed picture without a frame, it's appearence a little tattered. You wyped a streak across the middle with your thumb, revealing faces of three men. One had black hair and a shy, kind looking smile, seeming as though he was the shortest one in the group. The guy to the right of him was a tall, rugged looking blond, his face seeming to have a stone like appearance. But all the while, he had a rather happy smile spreading across his face, blue eyes peircing the camera he stared into. The last man, a little shorter than the one second, was your Grandfather. He looked a tad but younger, but in all, looked exactally the same as he did in the picture. Light from the bright sun that day reflected off his brown hair just right, making it look like he was shining. The curl at the edge of his hair looked just as it did now, maybe even a tad longer. His hazel brown eyes were closed, crinkles forming at the edges of his eyes as a big, toothy grin shown proudly on his face. You knew right away from the picture that these had to be the friends he had told you about once or twice. The Axis Powers.

You looked to your right, your Grandfather looking longily at the picture, a sad smile on his face. You didn't know if it was just the light pouring in from the window, but it seemed as though he had small tears forming in his young, lively eyes. The eyes that had seen so many things. The eyes that had seen into the past, many tears and heartfelt goodbyes that had been shed.

"Nonno," You started, not taking his gaze away from his. "How long have these boxes been sitting in your living room?"

He hesitated a moment, snapping out of the trance he seemed to be in. You already knew what he was about to say, but you wanted to hear it from him.

"A-A few..days.." He murmered, looking back down to the picture you held between your dirtied hand. "Since Monday.."

Today was Saterday. You knew it had been more than a few days since he had taken these out from who knows where, yet you felt the need to ask him and reassure your hypothesis. Taking your thumb, you wyped a lone tear that fell from his eye and travled down his soft, rosey cheek. A small trail of dirt was left behind, but you could see he really didn't mind. Or maybe he really wasn't paying attention enough to see it. You set the picture down, thinking that too many pained memories were brought up.

"Can I ask you another question?" You asked him, your gaze staring inside the box. "Whatever happened to your comrades?"

He picked up the picture you had set on his Military jacket, more sorrowful tears leaking from his glistening eyes. "It had happened many years ago, giovane." He started, his gaze travelling down to his hands, his grip on the picture tightening. "About three years before you were born."

You turned to look at him, your full attention resting on the story he was about to tell. Gino had jumped into your lap, curling up into a ball as he looked over to his owner. Maybe he, too, wanted to hear the tale. Your hand rested on his back, petting him ever so softly as you listened.

"I had known forever that the Holy Roman Empire had enough potential to one day become a strong and powerful country. The day he left for war, he had asked if I wanted to become part of the Holy Roman Empire. He said we could become a great nation together. When I declined, he became angry and asked if I wanted to continue living the life that I was. I told him that I didn't want him to become like my Grandpa Rome. He suffered so much pain because he became to big. His body was covered in scars, and he always seemed to have a saddened expression. I told Holy Rome I didn't want him to become like that, and to stay true to who he really was. After that, he plunged himself into long, long battle that lasted close to thirty years. The empire soon fell apart while surrounding nations picked up his pieces. At that moment, I felt so small, and so weak. I thought I would never see him again." His face had no expression, as if it had went numb. None the less, tears still flowed lightly from his eyes. "Many, many years later, when I became a bigger country, I met Germany. I had a feeling inside me that told me that he was the Holy Roman Empire from so long ago. Soon, I found my suspicions were right. I never told him, but I felt so happy and secure to have him back once more."

You nodded at his words, continueing to pet Gino.

"We soon became allies, and teamed up with a a country called Japan. The three of us became the Axis Powers, and were inceprible. Whenever one needed help, the other two would come to their rescue, though I was usually the one that needed helping. But...a few years ago, I was left alone and abandoned. To this day i'm not quite sure what happened, but there isn't a time when it doesn't cross my mind. I guess Germany just went to war one day, leaving a note explaining to me how he had to leave for awhile. He never came back, and his body was never found." He managed to choke the last sentence out through tears he tried not to shed, but continued on. "Japan. The same happened to him. When I had heard that he had been in a terrible accident, I rushed to his side as soon as I could. He was in terrible shape, but I tried to tell myself that he would be fine. He would continue living, and we would continue being allies for as long as possible. But I guess even my prayers were left unanswered, and he soon left me."

You could feel tears pricking at your eyes, overwelmed with how much sympothy you felt for your Grandfather. Why had he never told you this before? You thought that the two of you could tell each other anything. But that's when it hit you. Maybe he didn't want to tell you because it pained him too much to do so. Seeing him now, tears trailing down his usually happy face, you knew that must have been it. And that's why it had taken him forever to unpack the boxes. Everytime he went to look at one, bad, painful memories flooded his head, causing him to stop and change the subject. That is, until now.

~*~*~*~*~*
Now I lay in my grave at age 21
Long before you were born
Before I bore a son
What good did it do?
Well hopefully for you
A world without war
A life full of color

Where to begin? Let's start with the end
This black and white photo never captured my skin
Once it was torn from an enemy thorn
Straight through the core
The war was in color
~*~*~*~*~*~

"I was heartbroken that I could never again feel the warm embrace of Germany, nor the small, heartwarming smile of Japan. But when you were born," A small smirk came to his face, looking over to you through wet, blubbery tears. "That all changed."

Your eyes widened, tipping your head the slightest. Italy gave a small laugh, patting you on the head. "When you were born, the feeling of emptiness was suddenly filled to the brim by your pressence. I've always loved you and treated you as if you were my own child. Though I may never be able to recover from my friends' loss, i'll always have you to comfort me and make me feel better."

It was your time to cry. You let the warm tears you had been holding in travel from your eyes, your arms soon embracing around your Grandfather's skinny figure. You fit up against him like a puzzle piece, as if you were meant to fit in that exact spot. His hand smoothed your hair, caressing you closely against him. "It was the same when your padre died. I knew you felt a little more empty inside, and I did everything to help you through it, as you did to me. You were just like Germany and Japan."

"I don't want to move away from you." You sniffed, gripping onto the back of his blue shirt harder, knowing that even though you held onto him with all your might, you'd soon have to leave.

"It'll be allright, amore." He whispered, smiling into your shoulder. "I'll always be there for you. In person, or in spirit. I will never leave your side."