Of Wounds and Rain

So I got this idea off of a picture I found of Spain bleeding while chibi romano hugged him in the rain. It was so cute and sweet! This idea just jumped into my head right away, so I put everything down and started typing! Hope you guys like it~!

Can you guess what I'm gonna say here? I don't own Hetalia. For those who guessed right, here's a cookie. *Hands cookie* And here's a cookie for all y'alls who read my story! *Gives another cookie*

Spain was bleeding when he came back from that damned war. He had been shot in his shoulder, the blood trickling down his right arm and dripping down to the concrete along with the thundering rain. It looked so familiar... where else had I seen that?

The memory crashed into my mind so fast it felt as though I had been socked in the gut. The memory was no more pleasant.

It was raining, unlike the normal summer days in Spain. Perhaps it had to do with its embodyment's pain, or perhaps God just chose that moment to piss on us. That damn France! And that damn bastard! Why the hell would he fight for me if he got so damn injured?! Why the hell did he even care about me?! I couldn't do anything right, and all I was did was sit around his house eating, and trying to clean up. I was hopeless! So why did he care?!

Spain stumbled towards me and the protection of the colorless umbrella I held. Before he could reach me, he collapsed to his knees, groaning in pain. I dropped the umbrella, running the rest of the way towards my caretaker. I didn't care about pride -I threw it out the window the moment I saw the brunette limping towards me- as I threw myself at the man and sobbed into his shoulder. His arms hung limply at his side for a moment as shock ran through him. Then, his arms slowly wrapped around my quaking body. He whispered assurances into my reddened ear, while enduring my painful squeezing.

"Don't go again." I begged him, my voice shaky. "Please, don't go again. Just stay here." There was no way I could stand him leaving me again for some damned war that would only result in him in pain. I couldn't stand the guilt and the... pain. His pain echoed inside me like a talon clutching my chest.

In my head I knew that as long as I was under his rule that request was impossible, but the thought of parting with the cheerful dumbass was just too painful at the moment, and truthfully, I was too cowardly to leave the safety of his house. I was still so weak, and he was so big and strong. "Ah, mi tomate." He said, and I could tell he tried to keep the pain out of his voice. "Y-you are t-touching my wound."

I stepped back with a scowl. He hadn't answered. I chucked the daisies I had managed to protect from the viscous rain, but not my own temper, at the man in front of me shouting. "Find your own way home, you fucking bastard!" Before running away, my tears mixing with the rain as they fell from my reddened cheeks. I didn't look back.

Blinking that stupid memory -and the tears I hadn't realized I shed- away, I stepped forward. "You dumbass!" I growled when I reached him and covered the both of us with the pale umbrella. I let him lean on me, my shoulder keeping up most his weight. "How could you be stupid enough to get shot!" The sentence was just a shield for the pain I was feeling. I didn't want him to know what happened to me whenever he went away for another war.

The idiot just twisted his head to smile over at me. "Roma, you came to pick me up again~" His cheerful tone was more forced than it should've been. I hated how it sounded coming from his mouth.

I couldn't reply to his words, as I started to half drag him towards his house. It was much larger than the one that Fratellino and I shared. It was a stunning display that always left me in awe. His front lawn was dotted with flower beds filled with Carnations, the bright red flowers contrasting against the crisp green grass currently being assaulted by bullet-like drops. The house itself was colorful and eye-catching even when darkened from the lack of sunlight. We walked up to the vibrant red door, which I had to unlock for the weakened man.

It took a while to get him up the fucking steep stairs. I ended up having to carry his ass all the way up and placed him gently onto his bed. "Have you had the bullet taken out?" I demanded, ripping off the sleeve of his shirt and exposing the wound. The blood soaked cloth ended up in a bowl on his bedside table that's intended purpose was decoration only.

He let out a shaky, "N-no. I w-wanted to see y-you first."

"Idiot!" I growled, though even I could not keep the scarlet blush from my face. Surprisingly for most, I had a lot of experience with treating bullet wounds, due to Spain's idiotism. "Stay here!" I ordered, before running back downstairs in a quick search for all I needed. As quickly as possible, I made my way back to the brunette man's bedroom. Previously his eyes had been closed, but as I reached his bedside, they fluttered open again.

"Ah, Roma. You're back." He smiled weakly at me, but I just shot him a glare.

"Shut up. This'll hurt a lot." I warned, concern leaking into my voice, my eyebrows knitting together with the consuming emotion. "I couldn't find any painkillers. You should be better prepared!" I grabbed the towel I had rummaged around the longest for. I placed it -more like shoved it- into his mouth and when Spain gave me a questioning look, said, "It's to bite down on when your in pain. It might distract you a bit from." I doubted the last part. It was more likely to muffle his painful screams so the neighbors didn't think I was murdering him.

"Ah, my little tomate is worried about me~" The Spanish man on the bed smiled, but I just worked on getting out all the things I needed to treat his wound. Once done with that, I realized I'd have to get to work. A grimace placed itself on my lips as I started to clean out the wound because one, it was pretty deep and two, the horrible pained sounds Spain was making. And I hadn't even started to get the bullet out yet. This was going to be hell.

It was. Hell, I mean. Hearing Spain's muffled screams as I dug out the bullet was similar to me getting shot in the chest pointblank; painful as shit. I couldn't tell what was worse, the screams or the whimpers. If I ever found the person who did this to him... they'd be dead by morning. Another muffled scream reached my ears, and the anger increased. They'd be so dead.

When the bullet was placed in the bowl that would probably have to be thrown out after this, I started working on stopping the blood that still flowed from the wound. Placing a clean cloth to the bullet wound, I continued to work in silence. This silence was only broken by the muffled groans from Spain and my own horridly loud breathing.

-Skippy-

Spain had long ago succumbed to the numbness of unconsciousness and I had finished my work on the wound. Everything was cleaned -since I had gotten much better at cleaning since my younger years- and I was sitting on the couch watching some sort of nature channel that was all in Spanish. It was pretty boring but it passed the time as I tried to distract myself from the more... painful memories of Spain's homecomings. But, it's not like I could stop them once they started rolling along.

I was still a child, cleaning up horribly to hopefully impress Spain. That was a secret goal of mine, to impress Spain daily, to get him to realize that I was worth all the effort he went through to keep me. To show him that I was better than my brother. He was coming back today, even though I begged him not to go, he still went. In the years to come, those requests would change from begging him not to go, and begging him to let me come with him. But for now, I was more selfish.

I heard him before I saw him, and when I turned with a smile on my face, it soon dropped off only to replaced by a look of horror as I let out a silent scream. The man before me -for that I was all I could tell at first from the state he was in- was covered in blood. Splatters from other people and stains from himself. Though, through all of this blood I could still see his emerald colored eyes, so I knew it was him. "Spain!" I forced out, finding my voice at last. "W-what happened?!"

That damned idiot staggered in, and fell in front of me -similar to how he had just done merely a half hour before. The pain that turned his voice raspy and short, echoed again throughout my small body. "H-hey Roma." There was a odd rasping noise that came from him and it took me awhile to place it as a laugh. "He got me pretty good this time, didn't he." At that moment, I wanted to kill him.

"S-shut up!" I yelled at him, recovering from my shock enough to run for the health kit he kept in the kitchen. It probably wasn't enough, but I had to try. Spain had sort of shown me first aid, but focused more on other things so I was still rather ignorant on the whole subject. As I worked to check out the damage, I did the best a young boy could do in that sort of situation.

I sighed and flipped through channels, looking for something loud and violent to keep my ears ringing and my brain shut down. When I finally found a movie such as this, it only reminded me of the one battle I had ever been to with Spain.

Shots echoed through the air, their noise matched only by the screams of dying men around me. Being a nation -and a coward at that- there was so little I was able to do for my men on the field. I felt a wound seeping blood into my uniform, but was much to focused on a more pressing matter. Spain.

Spain. He was always more important than I. Even in this situation of life or death, it was his life or death I worried about. He was the only person I ever worried this much for. I trusted my own brother to get the hell out of there, but Spain? He was too damn stubborn and too damn determined to give up on a fight, even after he's been shot. Or stabbed. Or bombed. He just wouldn't give up.

It was admirable, of course, but when you share the pain of someone thus described and love that same person to death -ha- this was not the kind of characteristic you wished for them to have. Why couldn't he have been like my brother? Why did he have to do these sort of things? Was he trying to prove himself as a man? Would he be that retarded?

I sunk lower under the cover of the broken down concrete wall. Only hours ago had we sought refuge in the abandoned concrete building, relishing in the limited shelter -as opposed to the cold night just outside the walls- and cover it lent us. It had been an ambush, planned by one of our own men and the enemy forces. He had tarnished the Italian name, and had died like a coward soon after. Where exhaustion once filled my limbs, there was only the flames of my anger, keeping my eyes sharp and the adrenalin pumping through my system. For once in my life, I felt no fear for myself. Only for my men around me and the one man that mattered the most kneeling beside me.

I heard the shot before anything else happened. Just as I heard the crack -like that of a whip- everything seemed to slow down and all sound was drowned out by a deafening sound in my ears. I saw Spain react instantly, saw his lips move when my gaze reached his face, but I heard nothing but a roar. He tackled me to the ground, taking my place in the line of fire. Before my eyes, I saw a bullet pass straight through his chest, right where his heart was.

"No!" I yelled, flinging the remote across the room and covering my ears. Still, my own screaming wiggled through the cracks of my fingers. I couldn't tell if it was memory or reality that the sound came from, just that I didn't want to hear it. I didn't want to hear any of it. That day had been the worst in my life, praying to God that Spain would wake up and heal like all countries did. A simple bullet couldn't kill a nation, at least not keep them dead. But waiting around for Spain to wake up had been a horror I had never thought I'd experience.

Just as I felt like breaking down into childish sobs, I felt warm, comforting arms wrap around my small frame and pull me into a even warmer chest. "Oh Roma." I felt more than heard the words whispered against the crown of my head. "It's okay."

His arms were warm, like all those years ago whenever he held me after a bad dream, most of which involved the stopping of his heart. It was comforting, but at the same time, I didn't want to be held like a child. I wiggled in his arms so that I could face him, my chest pressed against him every time I inhaled. He watched me with curiosity, but didn't pull back right away with disgust, which I took as a sign to continue with my sudden resolve. The only way to show him how I felt. In the position we were in, I had to move my head back a few inches before I could press our lips together.

For years, I have imagined what his lips felt like. Well, of course there were the kisses to the forehead and the hair and the occasional -and much loved- kiss to the cheek, but those were only hints at how his lips felt. Like a single glimpse into the future. In my dreams, his lips had always been soft and warm, similar to the many kisses. My dreams were worth shit. The man's lips were soft, yes, but instead of warm they were burning. Searing hot, almost painfully so, but I welcomed it. This was nothing compared to the pain it would be like to lose him.

I didn't want to pull away, didn't want the wonderful feeling to end, but like everything else it had to end at some time. When it did end, I was breathless and -even more so- speechless. There was nothing I could think of to say, and even if I could think of something I doubted it would come out right with my mind still full of fire.

He was the one that spoke first, saving me from the effort needed to form words. "Romano," he whispered, saying my name for the first time. When I stole a glance into his emerald eyes, I saw a tenderness there that reminded me more of a pool than a roaring fire.. "Romano, why did you kiss me?"

The question bounced around my mind for what felt like a minute before I could make sense of it. "Why?" I repeated, raising an eyebrow. "Why else but because I love you?" To answer a question with question was not normally how I went about things, but I wasn't really sure how else to reply and let's face it, it sound much more cool than "'cause I love ya."

Spain's eyes widened further than they had when our lips connected, before happiness filled the emerald pools. "Oh, Roma." He whispered, resting his forehead against mine, his lips so close I could taste his words. "You have no idea how happy that makes me. I've loved you so long, ever since I stopped watching over you and you started watching over me!"He laughed lightly, bu't I just rolled my eyes.

"I wouldn't have to if you stopped going out to those fucking wars." I paused. "Or if you let me come with you, just like before!"

Spain gained a panicked look at the very thought. "No! Absolutely not! That is completely out of the question!" He cried, an edge of authority to his voice, that he only ever used when he said something he expected me to obey. Normally I would, but for once I stood my ground.

"Why the hell not?!" I demanded, anger rising quickly inside of me.

"Because you'll fall apart..." He whispered, a look to his eyes that made my breath catch in my throat. I shook the feeling away quickly.

"What the hell does that mean, bastard?!" I asked him, a little worried by the look he was giving me.

"I don't want you to snap, to just spend your days sleeping, because you think dreaming is better than reality." He explained quietly, his voice containing a knowing edge that scared me more than anything else.

Defensive feelings rose up inside me. Did he -the man I loved so much- think I was as weak as everyone else did? "That would never happen!"

Spain's panicked look grew. "I don't know... the way you look when you see me in pain." That's when I remembered his wound and my gaze flickered there. He appeared fine, so I went back to the argument.

"That's why I don't want you to go!" I yelled. "Can't you see that, dumbass!" I knew he was blind, but this was just over the top. Can't he see what it did to me? Why I needed to be there?

Spain said, "I know... but I can't... just not go!" His voice rose a bit with each pause between, growing more confidant with his words. He really truly believed that he needed to fight these wars. Couldn't he just try to avoid them?!

I could see where this was going already, but tried my hardest to stop it from going there. Tears sprung to my eyes at the thought. "Why not?!" I sobbed loudly. As I have said before, my pride was long gone. "Why can't you just stay here with me and be happy and safe?! Why, Spain?"

"Because then my nation would fall apart and I would be gone anyway..." As his voice filled with sadness, he reached for me and pulled me into a familiar hug. It should have been soothing, reassuring even, but all it did was fuel the raging fire. But this fire, the one being fed, was different from the anger I felt before. It was understanding that he fueled. Understanding that this couldn't go on.

My voice was merely a whisper when I spoke the words I had been dreading. "I can't do this, Spain. I can't be with you if you are going to keep coming back bleeding."

The look on Spain's face mirrored my own feelings perfectly. As he said his own words, pain filled his emerald eyes. "And we can't be together if I don't."

"It doesn't sound like we have much of a choice then." The tears that had gathered at the edges of my eyes, spilled over and raced down my cheeks as if to get as far away from the pain I was feeling as they could. They didn't want it any more than I did.

"I know." Silent tears fell from Spain's cheeks as he stared at my crying face.

My voice was hoarse, even as I tried to sound strong. "Looks like I'll be leaving then." I turned around and head for the door with forcibly slow steps. Before I could leave though, I turned my head back to look at him. "Oh and Spain?" It was whispered but I knew he still heard me. "I will wait for you, no matter how long it takes."

I saw Spain reach out his hand as if to stop me from going, but then it just fell limply to his side. "I hope so. If not, then please be happy, Romano."

I turned back around, the tears flowing more violently as before. When I spoke again, my voice was unstable and wobbly. "Just... don't die, alright?" Before he could even answer, I was running away, just like I wanted Spain to do.

A voice floated on the wind, hoping to catch my hearing before I left. Words reached my ears. "Adiós mi querida tomate. Te amo con todo mi corazón." [Goodbye my dear tomato. I love you with all my heart.] Even though I had denied it as a child, I still learned Spanish. His words only made my feet move faster and my vision to blur with even more tears.

And thus my story ends with nothing but heartache and pain for me. But wait, there is always a light on the horizon isn't there? To find that light, we must switch perspectives. To the love of my life.

The country of Spain has been at peace for awhile now. His people are rejoicing, his land is thriving. And as for Spain? Let's see what happens when he does call his tomate...

I was extremely nervous. I had never been this nervous since the war where Roma accompanied me. Yeah, I was that nervous. It took me five tries to finally gain the nerve to dial his number and hit send. Butterflies -more like wasps- swarmed in my stomach. What if he said no? What if he really hadn't waited? In the six rings that followed, my nervousness did everything but decrease.

Finally, the seventh ring was interrupted by mi tomate's voice. "What do you want?" His voice was gruff, similar to how he had sounded as a child when he was crying.

Guilt filled me along with insecurity. What should I say? "U-uh... Mi Tomate?"

There was a silence on the other for a few seconds, before, "Yes... Spain?"

"Uh..." I had no idea what to say. "Hola." Lame! Lame! Lame! Lame! I resisted the urge to slap myself.

"I don't want to talk to you." There was pain and anger in his voice. I flinched. It's not like I didn't deserve those emotions targeted at me, but it still hurt.

"Alright then." I whispered, regret flowing easily through my body.

"That was a lie you idiot!" He yelled before I could hang up the phone. Relief replaced the regret. Mi tomate was letting me talk to him!

"It was?"

He didn't answer, choosing instead to ask a question of his own. "What do you want?" He repeated.

I answered it this time. "Nothing. It's just peace has come to my country so... at La Tomatina you can throw a tomato at my face..." I grimaced at my own words. They had sounded so much smoother in my head.

A long pause sounded on the other end, before Romano replied, his voice hesitantly hopeful. "Are you saying..." He sucked in an audible breath before finishing. "That you aren't at war?"

"I'm not, Mi Tomate."

The longest silence yet followed my words before Mi Tomate whispered, "Does that mean...?"

I couldn't help but smile. "I'm very lonely though." There was a bit of a whine to my words that I didn't mind. "Plus, I have too many tomatoes~"

There was an exasperated huff from Romano and I could just imagine him rolling those beautiful eyes of his. "You idiota, will you go out with me?" He asked me, a smile in his voice.

A delighted smile reached my voice and laced my words as I said, "S-Si... if you will have me!"

There was a another exasperated huff. "Si."

"Te amaré por siempre, Lovino Vargas." [I'll love you forever, Lovino Vargas] I told him, using his real name. The name I so seldom used, for it felt too formal between lovers, si?

There was an annoyed sound. Maybe because I was speaking Spanish again. I opened my mouth to translate it to Italian, but was beat to it. "Anch'io ti voglio bene, idiota." [I love you too, idiot] Mi Tomate muttered.

Joy filled me. He knew Spanish. Then, I chuckled. "But what a happy idiot I am~"

Fine~

Ha ha! Done! Suck on that, writer's block! Well, I can't really gloat, cause it was one of my amazing friend's that helped me out. Elli Seychelles and I RPed the last part, so everyone give her a big round of applause! After your done, giver her a square of applause too~ Yeah, I went there. Anyway, Now for the quote from the author's assistant, as requested, "You have to be a happy-go-lucky dumbass to write about what one says~"

Anyway, thanks for reading~ And check out Elli Seychelles's profile and stories. They are way more awesomer than mine! Thank you once more for reading. Please review~ Ciao~

Kiwi \(*0*)/

P.S. I'm too lazy to read it over again, since I've done it like ten times, so I'm just gonna cross my fingers and his New Story.