Creepypasta: Hetalia Theory: North Italy

[Read along here on YouTube! Reading done by Nobody]
[Now translated into German here! Done by Nobody]
[Now translated into Spanish here! Done by Nobody]

***

“Ciao!” Feliciano waved happily at his friend.

He smiled and waved back before turning around and walking down the small Venice sidewalk. Feliciano sighed, his smile slowly fading. He had just spent the whole day with his friends. That’s how he spent most days. He had a nice care free life. But it wasn’t all perfect, no life was.

He then continued the other way down the narrow road to his home. He shoved his hands in his pockets as he walked, looking to all the people around him. He knew a lot of people in Venice, as he made money driving a vaporetto. Today was his day off though so he enjoyed it as much as he could.

Over the years Feliciano had grown a reputation as a generally happy guy. He tried to laugh as much as he could and make others happy, but it seemed to be never enough.

For years he had been secretly faking this all though, but he had tried his best to make it real enough. Feliciano was never really happy though. The only time he was, was those few golden moments where he somehow managed to enjoy himself.

“Buongiorno Feli!” A man waved to him.

Feliciano mustered up a smiled and gave a cheerful “buongiorno” back to him with a nod.
He frowned again though as soon as he walked away. This is how most days went for him. It was the same old thing, day in and day out. It was beginning to bore him truthfully. Bore him to death maybe. Feliciano thought over that again. Bore him to death maybe. It sounded like that what was happening here.

He stopped suddenly. He looked around the crowd of people. Someone shoved past him but he didn’t care. He knew what he wanted to, no, what he was going to do. Maybe this day won’t be so boring after all, he thought with a small smile.

He then started off quickly to his home.

When Feliciano got home he ran upstairs. It was a small home, since he lived by himself. He didn’t exactly have much family to share a home with and he denied his friends’ offers at sharing an apartment. He ran up to his room, rushing up to his room.

He flung his closest door open. He almost couldn’t believe he was doing this. He grabbed a small metal box from the back, it had been buried there for a while but he wasn’t sure how long. He dug into a pile of clothes for the key to it. He grabbed it and held it to the lock, his hand shaking with the butterflies in his stomach.

He rammed the key in and the lid popped open. In the box was an assortment of things. It was mostly random objects from his childhood that made him nostalgic. He picked up a picture of his mother. He sighed happily. The picture had been taken years ago, long before she had passed.

“Ti amo mama,” he said quietly, putting the picture back.

There was one thing specifically he was looking for though. Luckily it was on top of everything and it was in two parts.

Feliciano picked up the gun and loaded the ammo into it. He stood up, holding it firmly in his hand. He walked over to his window, looking out at the small canal below. If it was going to end here, why shouldn’t his last sight be something beautiful? The sight from his window had always been one of the few things to make him happy.

He lifted the gun to his head. He looked at the quiet canal below, taking in every detail he could.

A boat had just passed so the water had slight ripples in it. A woman carrying bags of food just went into her home with a child. The setting sun cast an orange glow on everything not blocked by another building’s shadow. The green-brown canal water was sparkling. He sighed; it was something he found himself doing a lot. He felt ready enough to go through with this.

“Pregate per me Madonna,” he whispered barely audible.

He clicked the safety off and put his finger on the trigger.

He squeezed his hand shut around the gun and-

***

“Idiota stop being so happy!”

“Wah! I’m sorry fratello!” A young auburn haired boy cried as an older boy smacked the back of his head.

The older sighed heavily, “You just need to be more serious…”

“O-Okay,” he agreed sheepishly.

He knew his brother was worried but he loved being happy and wouldn’t have it any other way.