Tonight would be yet another night alone with only his thoughts and an empty heart for Romano. There was no hope in the stars in the black sky above him and no way to get out of his tortured mind. The tears fell silently onto the grass outside of his house and he couldn't help but make slight sobbing noises as the words spat at him from various countries today echoed in his head;

"Hey, ya little shit. Why don't you come over here so I can beat you up? Oh wait, everyone else already has. Too bad, it would have been fun to see you fall into even more of a mess…"

"You're worthless, you know that? No one cares about you because you don't do anything special."

"No one will ever like you. You're too mean and nasty! Maybe if you were a little nicer you'd at least have one friend."

"I have an idea as to how you could get someone to love you! Just be the opposite of who you are now!"

"Why do you have to be so mean!? Damn, it's like you don't even want to have people who give two shits about you."

The problem with these words was this; Romano did care. He cared so much it hurt. But no one seemed to like him from day one when he was still innocent and nice. (They liked his brother, sure. But that type of overshadowing had become so regular that the pain it used to carry had numbed out and it didn't seem to matter anymore.) So he had given up at an early age to attempt at making 'friends'. Because why put forth so much effort to just be ridiculed like he had been before? It seemed like no matter what he did people would hate him. So he built a wall around himself to protect him from getting hurt again; one built out of harsh words and unsocial behavior.

But recently, the wall had been crumbling down around him, crushing him in the process. Suddenly, people's words hit him like spears and he couldn't stand it. Sure, he put on his narcissistic mask every morning along with his daily routine and pretended to not care what the other countries spoke to each other in not so quiet whispers and yelled at him during the world meetings. But that was a real joke because under all of it, his so called 'protection' was turning into rubble.

He was raw with a tsunami of emotions and just wanted to lie down and die. It's not like anyone would miss him anyways. But he couldn't bring himself to do any such thing as suicide. He was too busy running back inside and diving under the covers of his bed, hoping that the sheets would drown out his emotions and prayed for a sleep that he knew would never come; the words in his mind wouldn't shut up long enough to allow such a luxury. Not like there would be anything happy to dream about anyways…. He'd probably just end up having another nightmare like the hundreds of others that haunted his past attempts at sleep. So he lied there; wallowing in an orb of self hate, feeling the word 'worthless' being branded on his forehead.

After trying to knock on the door for about 10 minutes, Spain decided to just walk in, a bouquet of flowers in his hand.

"Hey, Romano, I heard what happened today and came as soon as I coul-"

But he cut himself off due to the horrifying scene spread out in front of him. The entire house was a cluttered mess of broken lamps and tipped over furniture and there were obvious signs of glass items being thrown at the walls. But the most disturbing thing he found was located in the kitchen. There, on the floor, lied a butcher knife covered in blood and next to it the word 'Worthless' was written in the same deep red liquid.

Upon the realization of what was going on, Spain dropped the flowers, which fell silently next to the aftermath of what looked like a mini battlefield, and bolted to Romano's bedroom

"Romano? Where are you mi amigo?" he asked the dark room in front of him, with worry tainting his lips.

All he heard in reply was a muffled hiccupping sound coming from a lump under the covers of the bed. In an instant he was over to the bedside, his hand pulling the covers down slightly, just enough to find the head of a sobbing Italian. The Spaniard pulled himself up next to him, sitting up and soothingly brushing the hair out of his friend's soaking face. It was worrying him that Romano had not yet pulled away like he usually would have, but he stayed calm and asked in a motherly tone;

"What's wrong, Romano?"

"G-get away! I-I don't need your sympathy! I know that you d-don't l-like me anyways…n-no one does!" the small brunet said between sobs.

The taller man bent down and lightly kissed the other's forehead and whispered in his ear;

"I don't like you, it's true…," and after a pause he added, "I love you, Romano."

"NO, YOU DON'T!" the Italian screeched at the top of his lungs as he sprang on top of Spain. Beating on the man's chest with weak punches he repeated over and over;

"No one loves me… I push them away too much… No one loves me. No one….." The tears had reformed and were now spilling onto the man below him.

Spain reached up and wrapped his arms around Romano's back, pulling him close and refusing to loosen his grip despite how hard Romano was trying to fight and squirm his way out of the embrace. The only way he figured he could help Romano was to show him that he really did love him. So he continued to speak in the gentlest tone that his pained heart could muster;

"I have always loved you, mi italiano….. No matter how much you try and push me away, nothing can change that. I don't care if you hate me forever, as long as you believe that," and with that, he left a trail of light kissed from the smaller man's cheek down to his jaw, continuing down his neck, never losing his tight hold on him.

Romano stopped pounding his fists on the man's chest and reverted to holding onto him tightly, continuing to sob into his shoulder and quake lightly. In a hoarse voice quieter than a whisper he croaked;

"I will never understand that….how could you possibly love someone like me!? I'm not worth that…I'm not worth your love…..or anyone's for that matter…"

"You're worth everything to me, Romano."

That stopped the hazel eyes' tears right in their tracks. No one had ever said anything like that to him before and it struck him like a long anticipated bolt of lightning in the midst of a thunderstorm.

"You….really mean that?"

"Of course I do, I would never lie to you," the other man said with a sound surety lacing his words and a warm smile painting his lips.

"What do you see in me? Because when I look in the mirror all I see is a sad excuse of a life….," Romano said with a sharp, bitter honesty that felt like a stab in the chest to Spain.

"I see someone beautiful; someone who sticks to his word and doesn't let people change his mind on things. Someone who sticks up for his brother whenever he's being picked on," and as an afterthought Spain added with a goofy smile and a slight chuckle in his voice; "Someone with an adorable addiction to tomatoes that I can't get over."

Romano felt a smile sneaking in between a few lingering tears but still couldn't help but ask the question pressing his mind;

"But why me? Why, out of every country, would you pick me?"

"That's like asking why the sky is blue or why we love tomatoes. It was simply meant to be that way. And I wouldn't want to change it for the world," Spain put these words simply, as if this were common knowledge.

Romano just nuzzled his head into Spain's chest and a smile broke out of his usually stern features. There were no words to describe how much joy had filled his long aching heart at this moment. It was as if his chest had finally opened up and he could breathe in enough air for the first time. His eyes filled to the brim, but this time with happy tears which leaked down his face in merry rivulets. He couldn't believe it, but he was laughing. And for the first time in his life he felt like he was worth something.

He finally felt loved.

After a few moments, Romano lifted his chin to face Spain and looked him directly into his dark brown eyes, rich as the earth and kinder than any other's. He slowly moved his face towards the smiling man as if testing to see if this was alright with him. Spain's smile only grew and he leaned his head up so that their lips were just barely touching. After a few more seconds of blissful eye contact, which felt like centuries, they completed the distance to allow their lips to collide in a lighthearted burst of passion. Nothing could destroy their love as their lips mingled and their tongues brushed against each others' lower lips trying to savor ever bit of this moment. The world seemed at peace for one perfect moment. The war inside Romano's heart had finally ended and was replaced by Spain's undying love for him. This could be the start of a whole new era for both of these happy countries and they couldn't wait to embrace it.