Summary: Seborga doesn't like the silence. Yet he'll never be willing to admit that to his brothers, no. (Oneshot)
Pairing(s): None.
Please review, and tell me what you think. This most certainly isn't the first fanfiction I've written (I have a few on Quotev, Wattpad, and AO3) but it's the first one I'll be publishing on here.
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His brothers' house is never quiet. Always bustling with noise, whether it's the stove going, music playing, or the TV blasting— their house is always alive.
His house is always quiet. Sometimes, he'll have the radio blasting music. Sometimes he'll have the TV on. Other than that, though? His house is silent; dead.
Romano and Veneziano live together, in the lively warmth.
Seborga lives alone, in the deadly silence.
Seborga has always hated the silence; it bothers him. It leaves him alone with his pestering thoughts.
His headphones were his best friend, it seemed. When they were on, he could block out the rest of the world. Ignore the silence.
Ignoring the world around him, Seborga hummed to the music as he danced around the kitchen, the headphones muffling the sounds of the storm outside. Pulling out of the cabinets a a plate, a clear glass, and a fork.
I'm so over all this bad luck
Hearing one more 'keep your head up'
Is it ever gonna change?
Rain pelted the windows, like tiny water bullets, as Seborga stilled. His eyes slipped close, and a quiet exhale slipped through parted lips.
So let me just give up,
So, let me just let go
If this isn't good for me, well I don't wanna know
Let me just stop trying
Let me just stop fighting
I don't want your good advice or reasons why I'm alright,
You don't know what it's like
You don't know what it's like
The rain matched his heartbeat, the two beating as one in a quiet, calming rhythm.
Don't look at me like that,
Just like you understand,
Don't try to pull me back...
The phone rang, startling Seborga from his mind. He pulled his headphones off of his head, leaving them hanging around his neck.
He reached for his phone. Turning it on, Seborga was met with a flurry of sound from the speaker. Music, shouting, laughing, the sound of Romano in the background screaming "Not like that you German bastardo!" , followed by a shriek of "Mein Gott!"
"Ve, fratellino!" Veneziano's happy voice rung through the receiver, as bright and cheerful as always, despite the ongoing war taking place behind him.
Pulling a smile, Seborga pressed the speaker to his ear. "Ciao, fratello! Not that I'm not happy to hear from you, but why are you calling at this time of night?"
Truth be told, Seborga really was curious. Why, it was nearly midnight! Not to say that he was surprised, of course. He often got late-night or early-morning calls from his older brother.
"Would you like to come stay the night with Lovi and I? Germany and Spain have come over, too..." His English trailed, as he started to babble a garbled mess of rapid Italian.
Laughing at his brother's enthusiasm, Seborga thought over the invitation. It sounded nice; to spend the night in the comfort of his older brothers' home, in the warmth and lively hood.
Although, Romano would be busy arguing and fighting with Spain, and Veneziano would spend the whole time cooing over that German man (what was his name? Ludwig, maybe?)
And meanwhile, Seborga would just spend the night on the couch, by himself, flipping through the channels on the TV.
He'd just be a... would third wheel be the right word?
Ah, well, at any rate; he'd just be intruding on the two couples (Seborga used the term 'couples' lightly; Romano claimed to hate Spain's guts, but their love for each other was obvious enough).
"No, fratello. Scusate! I promised Sealand and Wy that I'd spend the night with them." The lie slipped out easily enough, Seborga's tone sounding slightly apologetic.
"Bene! Have a nice night, fratellino!"
The call ended, and Seborga was left alone in the quiet kitchen. Sighing, the Italian pulled his headphones back up and over his ears, the sounds of the storm outside once again fading away.
So let me just give up,
So, let me just let go
If this isn't good for me, well I don't wanna know
Let me just stop trying
Let me just stop fighting
I don't want your good advice or reasons why I'm alright,
You don't know what it's like
You don't know what it's like...
Maybe...just maybe...
...the silence wasn't so bad after all.
