'ᴛʜᴇ ɢʟᴏʙᴀʟ ᴊᴏᴜʀɴᴀʟ' || ʜᴇᴛᴀʟɪᴀ

17

"Gilbert?"

"Yes, squirt?"

"Don't you think that observation was a bit too telling?" Peter queried. From watching the screen he could see how Italy seemed a little off while he was being bombarded with reassurances and promises and affection from the other nations. "What if he knows?"

"Then he knows," Prussia responded indifferently. "I trust him to keep it to himself until the time is right. He's not as stupid as people think."

And that was just something that no doubt made the younger Italian feel so inferior to other countries around him, Gilbert thought. Who was to say that Feliciano surrounding himself by nations like Germany, America, Japan or France wasn't him trying to make himself feel better? That he was making sure he remained part of the clique? Only Feliciano knew what was was running through his head. Gilbert couldn't vouch for him, but through the observation, he felt that he could at least help the Italian feel more important.

"Besides," Gilbert said, "there's still a fair amount to get through. I'm not underestimating him, but he could forget given the severity of things to come."

"And if he doesn't forget? What if he tells your brother without you realising?" Sealand commented. He didn't fancy being put face to face with an angry Ludwig, nor did he fancy his chances at running away from said Ludwig . . .

"Keep your pants on, Peter!" Prussia responded. "If anything like that happens you know I'd cut you out of the loop! That's why you're not in London with me!"

"But I don't want you to get in trouble because of me!"

Gilbert let out a faint sigh under his breath. He could understand why the kid was probably so worried and wanted to take the blame. It had been his initial idea, after all. Prussia was just facilitating it. But that was no excuse, because forget Peter even being young, he was someone that Gilbert respected as both a nation and a person, and he didn't want him to face such damning consequences for what Gilbert had allowed.

"No matter what happens, neither of us will face any severe repercussions. I promise you," he said, a small white lie slipping through his lips. "I did the collecting of all the information, whereas you're the genius behind it. You won't get penalised for having common sense and boldness, Peter. Those are the best attributes you could have."

"You . . . Really mean that?"

"Yes. I do."

Sealand smiled to himself, a small ball of hope growing in his chest. "Thank you, Gil . . ."

"For what?" the Prussian questioned with a quizzical frown as he reached for his trusty bottle of beer.

"Teaching me how to be a good nation," he replied, "and a good person."

"You don't need me for that," Gilbert told him. "Only you can make yourself the best nation, squirt. And you're definitely on your way."

And as Peter continued to smile to himself, elsewhere, another blue-eyed blonde was doing exactly the same. Francis was watching all of the encouragement and praise Feliciano was receiving as a result of the Italian's observation. He knew that Feli was strong in ways people didn't always understand or acknowledge, and he was above all happy to see that he was finally receiving that recognition.

"Next up is another one from Japan, it seems," Antonio announced once the commotion had died down a little.

Kiku stopped fiddling with the bandaging on his arm and looked up at the Spaniard. "Another one?" he repeated.