Part 1 || Itacest/Selfcest
Lately, Vargas has been experiencing odd things. Every time he looks at his bathroom mirror, it shows a figure who looks like him, but way more sinister. Any time he tries to see this figure in any other mirror, it shows his regular reflection. Feliciano, out of fear, went to Ludwig about the problem he was witnessing within himself
Ludwig seemed worried about Veneziano, but had no idea what Feliciano was experiencing. How could a mirror change your reflection? He pondered this for a second before saying Vargas might just be seeing things. After Feliciano went to all the people he knew, he went back to his house.
Itâs not just the mirror that has been acting odd, itâs also the paintings, silverware, and other things like the sort. Paintings have been moved, silverware has been misplaced, and even things he swore he left at a certain place disappeared. Honestly, he was afraid of his own home. So, Veneziano would ask if he could stay with Germany three times a week.
When he had to go to his own house, he would avoid the mirror in his bathroom at all costs. But, this night was different. Italy went to his bed like usual, the sheets wrinkling. He suddenly felt someone watching him.
Yes, he has felt this feeling before, but this time it was stronger than any other time. It actually felt like someone was there, not just an illusion. Italy hugged his blankets, fear radiated off him like a magnet. His body shook, cold sweat running down his shaking body, lips trembled, and his eyes opened wide.
The door started to creak open, light coming through the door slowly. The shadow of a figure grew long on the roof, looming over Feliciano. Italy dug himself in his blanket, body completely frozen. He heard footsteps coming towards him. Heels clicked on the floor, getting louder.
Tears ran down poor Veneziano. He wished he could just be swallowed by the mattress instead. The heels stopped. Italy thought this was it.
Italyâs thoughts spiraled; the soft blanket flew off him. He screamed, begging for his life to be spared. He saw nothing; the sound of silence echoed through the room. Confusion rolled in.
He tore off the blanket, looking around the room. Nobody was there. So, what made those sounds..? And who creaked the door?
Italy got up, his anxiety still ran through his veins. He went to the bathroom. Veneziano took a deep breath and looked at the mirror. He saw the messed up reflection again, but this time it was in a different position than the Italian.
The reflection leaned their head on their hand, grinning ear to ear. He screamed, slamming himself into a wall. The image mocked him, chuckling.
Silence filled the room, the reflection only smirked. Italy felt unsettled by the silence. The figure leaned in, exiting the mirror. Vargas screamed, hiding his face from the supernatural individual.
The alarm clock rang. Feliciano sat up, cold sweat running down his face. It was just a nightmare. He sat up, stretching his arms up while yawning.
He surprisingly doesnât have eye circles or bags. But, he still felt tired, even though he got 8 hours of sleep. Vargas got up and went to his closet to put on his usual military uniform. He did not want to go to the track this morning.
Every single day Germany works him to the bone. Ludwig would tell him to run four laps around a medium sized river. Naturally, Veneziano complained about doing this simple middle school workout. But today was different; not in a way that he wanted to do the workout, quite the opposite actually.
Vargas barely had the energy to complain today. Which was shocking, but also filled Germany with concern. Ludwig wasnât heartless, so he let Italy go back home. As much as Feliciano wanted to stay at Germanyâs house, he had already stayed for a couple days, and he didnât want to bother RĆ«tovihhi, so he went back to his respected home.
The door creaked open, his hand gripping the doorknob as he opened it wide. A sigh left his lips, eyebrows furrowed. Vargas wasnât sure if it was out of relief of skipping the workout, or if it was simply out of tiredness. His body slowly slumped to his bedroom.
A chill ran through his spine. It was quite normal for him to get this when he walked by that.. cursed? Haunted? (Same thing..) Bathroom. When he looked back, he saw a letter he hadnât seen when he came inside his house.
He slowly approached the letter, still cautious. Well, how can you trust a piece of paper that suddenly appeared? When he finally recognized this letter was for him, he grabbed his letter opener and slid off the gum. He carefully unfolded the paper, looking at the contents inside the surprisingly beautiful floral card:
â Youâre pathetic when youâre scared, Feliciano. Well, when are you not pathetic? You always whine and whine! God! Itâs hard to watch sometimes. â
The message wasnât as beautiful as the design, eh? Vargas shuddered. It was mean and cruel. He couldnât help that he is such a scaredy cat! Italy has a weak military, afterall. Feliciano made a conclusion from this letter. Someone was stalking him.
He couldnât catch a break! Who and how did someone sneak a letter there? There wasnât a single trace of an object on the counter when he passed by. The aroma of the letter was intoxicating.
The scent of gasoline, lemon, and silver lingered around the letter. It didnât smell that bad, but for Feliciano he didnât like or hate the smell. The fragrance of lemon was refreshing, though. He rather liked lemon, but he didnât use the redolence.
Vargas wore rose scented body wash and cologne with mint scented conditioner and shampoo. It was his favorite, but he enjoyed the smell as well. Rather, it was comforting to Feliciano. Ludwig used the same scent, just more sweeter, and with a hint of sandalwood.
But this scent was bitter. With all of the other scents, he could smell a bit of cologne. It was a scent he hadnât smelt for quite some time now. It was a vintage Italian cologne.
Specifically, a 50âs bergamot with a surprising floral fragrance of Angels Trumpet. It was shocking that it didnât smell awful since the scent was about 70+ years old now. Perhaps the person made the fragrance by themselves? Italy doesnât know, but heâll know very soon.
He sat the letter back down and went to the bathroom. Since that night, he had covered the mirror with a blanket out of fear heâll see the figure again. He still remembers the face the familiar looking italy made when he was tucking in the blanket to the mirror. The face looked pissed, red eyes glaring into hazel ones.
A nervous gulp ran down his throat as he began to get ready for his shower. Feliciano undressed, throwing his clothes somewhere. Vargas set foot into the shower, closing the curtains. He turned the knob to the left, making hot water go down from the shower head.
Italyâs soft, fluffy hair turned straight, water dancing down towards him, then went down the drain. Feliciano hummed while washing his hair with mint flavored shampoo. His hands scratch into his scalp, removing any sweat he had deep inside.
As soon as he was going to wash his body, he heard a glass shatter with a rough voice cursing. Veneziano gasped, his skin turning pale. Someone was in the bathroom with him. He had locked the bathroom door for sure.
He heard boots shuffling, panicked. Italy was vulnerable, so there was no point in trying to defend himself. What was he even supposed to do? Use his ahoge to fight the unknown person?
The noises finally stopped. Feliciano peaked through the curtain, eyes opened wide out of pure fear. No one was there, but Italyâs heart stopped the moment his eyes met the mirror. The cover was on the floor, mud on his bathroom floors.
His hazel eyes glanced at the glass, quickly looking away. Feliciano caught a glimpse of the person again through the mirror. He had flushed cheeks, as if he had been caught. His red eyes looked away, mouth in a frown.
The mysterious person hadnât noticed him at all. Italy raised his eyebrows, hesitantly hopping out of the shower with a towel wrapped around his hips. His own voice came out of the mirror like a telephone. It wasnât exactly like his; it was more rough and stern.
He heard other voices too. One sounded like Kiku, the other like Ludwig. Germany sounded more calm, but Japan had a scary and non-caring attitude. It was almost terrifying.
He hadn't heard these tones from them before. It was intriguing for Vargas, so he continued to listen in to the conversation between the pair.
â I swear to god Lutz! You canât handle shit! â
A slam of a fist met with the surface of the table they were sitting on.
â What? Iâm simply too lazy to do work right now, Luciano. â
That definitely wasnât something Ludwig would say. He would normally try to get such matters over with as fast as possible, mainly because of his discipline. Also, he finally found the name of the person who has been reflecting on his mirror. This was confusing, how hasnât he found out Feliciano is able to watch him from his bathroom?
âLUTZ! Youâre going to do this! Donât make me grab you by the neck!â
A silence followed. Luciano glared to the right, looking at a person with judgement.
â Are you serious? Youâre such a freak! â
Suddenly, the man disappeared. Italy heard shuffling and sounds of objects falling. Guessing by that, Veneziano concluded that the reflection had tackled someone to the ground. The mirror went silent. He stared at it for a second before going to his bedroom to change into pajamas.
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Luciano threw himself at Lutz, subsequently both of them fell on the carpet floor roughly. Kuro erupted into laughter, holding his stomach tight.
â You piece of shit! Why are you so gross!? â
Luciano tightened his grip on Lutzâs arms, gripping it so tightly you would think his bone in his forearms would break.
â Get off, Luciano. It was simply a joke, and something to take in a light hearted way. Calm down, youâre going to shatter my forearm bones. â
A scoff of annoyance left 2P Italyâs lips. He got up from hovering over 2P Germany, and sat back down at his chair.
â I donât want you to say such things to me, got it? â
The silky black haired man in the corner got up, and walked behind Lutz
â Youâre too serious, Italy. â
He grinded his teeth from Japanâs comment, his hands in fists.
â Can you both shut up!? Youâre irritating me with your childish remarks! â
â Just admit it, Luciano. You canât handle teasing. â
2P Italy slammed his gloved fist on the table (again..) His eyes darting up at the man who now looks quite startled by his outburst.
â I swear to GOD if you two donât shut up Iâll beat the living shit out of yaâll! â
Silence. The room was quiet now. Awkwardness and tension developed the room. He now has time to think. Luciano almost got caught spying on Feliciano. It was really embarrassing for 2P Italy.. He wasnât planning to reveal himself yet.
He ran his fingers through his hair, sweat ran down his forehead. Sure, he had made a fool of himself today, however, he got pleasure from the fear Vargas experienced. His patheticness was very funny, but dear to Luciano. Venezianoâs face made it even more stunning.
2P Italy liked Italyâs face. Sure, it was the very same as his own. But, it had this certain cuteness he doesnât have. Blush appeared on his tan cheeks, and his frown turned into a small smile. Luciano got up from his seat and walked out of the room.
