Romano and Veneziano had a unique relationship to say the least.
Romano's passion was art. He could lose himself with just a pencil in his hand and a sheet of paper. He loved it. He could work on a simple picture for many months until it was perfect. Then Veneziano snuck up on him.
"Grande fratello?" (Big brother?)
"Si." (Yes.)
"Can you show me how to draw like you do?"
It is a simple fact that the apprentice will always, one day, outshine his master. That is what happened to Romano. How he hated it. He couldn't stand his little brother after that. Veneziano began to outshine him in everything. Art, music, cooking, literature, architecture. Everything.
Romano stopped painting after that.
When the brothers were separated, Romano felt a little guilty for being excited about not having to try and outshine his brother. (But then he remembered the time Veneziano dropped his sketchbook in a pot of pasta.) He didn't feel guilty for long.
Spain was something else. Romano knew he was hard to handle. Romano knew that Spain would want Veneziano, so he wasn't surprised when Spain left for Austria's house and came back less than cheery. Still Spain took every insult Romano threw at him with a smile and a murmur in Spanish.
"Esta bien mi pequeno tomate!" (That's okay my little tomato)
Spain clearly didn't understand the rules of the game. Romano would insult him as much as possible until Spain decided he didn't want Romano anymore. Then Romano would leave and go home. Back to his country.
Spain was something else.
When Romano left Spain and was back in the company of Veneziano, Romano wanted to kill himself (And Veneziano if he could manage it but he would settle for himself.) How was it possible for Veneziano to be so stupid yet still have everyone like him? How come nobody liked Romano? Except Spain, but he didn't count because he was an idiota.
Then La Patata Bastardo, (That Potato Bastard) came along.
Romano stood back and observed how happy Veneziano was around La Patata Bastardo. Why did il marmocchio, l'idiota, il bambino d'oro maledetto get to be happy and Romano didn't? Veneziano was dannatamente perfetta in the eyes of all the other nations. Everyone wanted to be his brother. No one wanted Romano. (Except Spain but he was an odd fellow.)
Romano hated Veneziano but he was still his older brother. When Romano staggered back to their house. Drunk, drunk, Dio, era ubriaco. And pushed open the door to find Veneziano curled up on the floor, crying, Romano did his duty. Romano picked up his brother gingerly and layed him on the couch, he grabbed a blanket and lay it over his brother's sobbing form.
"Fratellino! What's wrong?"
"Germania, captured them. He captured them all! We couldn't fight anymore! You felt it too, didn't you? He sent them to camps! They're dying! Grande Fratello! Help them! Please."
Romano pulled his brother close, (It wasn't like he actually cared, it was just his duty). Romano remembered feeling himself growing cold at the bar, but he had shrugged it off and had more drink.
"Idiota, of course I felt it! What did La Patata Bastard do this time?"
"We stopped fighting with the Allies! We're friends now, but Germany took our men all 710,000 of them and put them into those aweful camps! What do I do? What do we do?"
Romano held his breath to stop himself screaming abuses and insults at La Patata Bastardo. Romano instead told his brother to rest. Romano scribbled a quick note, poured himself a drink, ate a tomato, squared his shoulders and went to visit Germany.
La Patata Bastard opened the door. He looked as if he had just woken up, bene.
"Veneziano?"
Romano let out a little laugh. It was the mixture of anger, intoxication and hurt that gave Romano courage to do this.
"Veneziano? No. My name is Romano."
"Oh, ja, the other brother. What do you want at five in the morning?"
Romano gave La Patata Bastardo his best glare. L'altro fratello. Romano took a step closer.
"710,000 men. Veneziano's men, my men, are in you country, your prison camps. Give them back."
"Nien, it was my bosses doing. Not mine. Veneziano and you are my friends."
Romano hissed at that. How could La Patata Bastardo talk so casually about 710,000 crying mothers, 710,000 widows at leat 710,000 children who would grow up with no father?
"That is not even what I am here to talk about, bastardo! Mio fretllino is crying on the couch at home! He thought you were friends! Do you not care about him!"
La Patata batard met Romano's angry glare with calm, sorrowful eyes.
"Es tut mir leid."
La Patata Bastardo shut his door. Romano turned and went back to his brother.
Romano hated his brother. But he hated everyone else a lot more.