A/N: Here's that oneshot, I'll probably make another one sometime. I know, I'll get working on Maturing with Music soon enough. I apologize! Please enjoy, and I don't own Hetalia, because if I did, I wouldn't be alive, I would've died in happiness.

"Leave me alone! I hate you!" Veneciano shrieked as he ran out of the World Summit room, tears stinging the corners of his ochre eyes.

"Veneciano! Wait!" His elder brother, Romano, called after him. He reached one arm forward as he bolted up from his seat, but did not pursue him. His other hand cradled a swollen cheek, the fist had made a glaring red impression on his skin. His younger brother quickly made his way out of the hall, the heels of his shoes clacking against the tiled floors.

"I-I'm sorry…" Romano whispered hoarsely. "I'm sorry… I'm sorry…" he continued as he and his usual, irritable demeanor crumpled slowly to sit back down at his seat. Hand reaching up to cover his face as silent sobs racked his body, his voice cracked more with each word until he was just mouthing empty words, faint whimpering noises emerging, I'm sorry… I'm sorry…

The rest of them looked around, all with different expressions appearing. Most of Asia looked confused, Japan looking concerned, with China bearing a grave, knowing look on his visage. Africa seemed to be perplexed as well, and Australia seemed clueless as well. The whole of South America appeared uneasy, as all of North America fidgeted around uncomfortably; America was gazing at the floor while doing so, Canada tried to calm down his bear. But it seemed like he was only trying to console himself, seeing as the bear was serene. Mexico rolled his pen this way and that.

Europe, however, was a different story. Germany was staring straight down at his papers, seeming to be in extreme distress. Austria instinctively held on to Hungary's hand, while Hungary just patted his shoulder lifelessly and averted her gaze. Liechtenstein seemed a little confused and tugged on Switzerland's sleeve warily, but he only shook his head morosely at her. The Nordics kept changing their sights around their small group. The Baltics all bowed their heads, as if in respect, while Russia put his large arm behind their backs, attempting to comfort them.

Belgium shook her head lightly, as if in denial, hiding small, silent sobs. However, Holland, being next to her, heard, and put one arm around her. A few others, like Luxembourg and Romania, just found interest in staring at things such as the lighting and the windows. Spain was staring down at his papers with a dark, sullen atmosphere surrounding him. England, representing the UK at this Summit, instantly locked his eyes on France, worrying about his rival nation's reaction.

France had his head down on the table, in his folded arms, lifeless, apathetic. He hadn't uttered a sound throughout the entire ordeal, he was silence itself.

Ve, I think we should do this finance plan!

What are you talking about? This is insane! Stop letting other countries meddle in our business!

But Romano, these people are our friends!

Veneciano hurried rushed down the stairs, not bothering with the elevator. His feet pounded down on each concrete step, his hair bouncing around in a rushed way, tears biting the edges of his eyes as he scrunched them up to delay the fall of the salty droplets. He promised, he promised he would stop crying. Twice, he promised. He had no idea if it was to the same person.

Italy! You have to learn to stop crying for once and man up, like a true soldier!

Say that again. That I have to stop crying.

What are you talking about? Get back to training!

No please! Say it again, please say it again!

Fine… Italy, you have to stop your crying.

Make me promise?

What? What are you- oh fine, promise me you'll stop crying.

Okay… I promise.

Italy, you have to promise, stop your crying. You look beautiful when you're smiling. Just wait for me when I come back, alright?

Of course I'll promise that. You always come back, don't you?

I'll be back after a few months, I suppose. That's how long this war will take, I think. Maybe longer, I'm not entirely sure.

Okay! You teach big brother France a lesson, and I'll make sure your room is all clean by then!

Are you sure you'll be okay while I'm gone?

I promise, Holy Rome. I'll be okay. Can you promise that we'll see each other again?

Yes, of course I will.

No, he wasn't okay. And neither was Holy Rome. Holy Rome broke his promise, he never saw him again. And he'd cried since then, he had broken his promise to Holy Rome. He won't break his second promise, not ever.

It had been France to deliver the news to him, about his demise. He was so guilt ridden, but Veneciano did not forgive him. He smiled, told a horridly confused France that they both should just forget about it. About him. Maybe that was his way of cheating; it's difficult but yet easy to forget, but it's incredibly hard to forgive. So, he tried to forget. At least, he tried to forget until he met him.

I'm sorry, I'm not the box of tomatoes fairy! It was all lies!

Wait, what the hell are you talking about?

Huh…? Oh…wait.

Yes?

W-who are you?

My name is Germany. I'm supposed to be fighting a descendant of the Roman Empire. Are you him?

Oh? You know Grandpa Rome? That's fantastic! But still… your name is Germany… and nothing else?

My name is Germany, and I sometimes prefer to be called Ludwig. Now, you should start fighting already and forget about pointless, idle chat!

Ludwig, huh… I can't fight you. I refuse.

You what? But that's- hey! Why are you throwing your gun to the ground? Every soldier should try to fight with everything he has before giving in!

I just can't fight you. You win. I surrender.

Well, whatever, fine.

Thank you.

Romano had been extremely bitter towards him for giving up their country. He didn't know, barely coming into contact with Holy Rome, he didn't know why he couldn't stand to fight that face. Romano didn't hold Holy Rome dear because he didn't hold anyone close, really, except for Veneciano, and sometimes his former caretaker, Spain. Romano loved his little brother very much and would do anything to protect him when it came down to it, Veneciano knew that. But going that far, even if he was extremely upset about some new financial plan the World Summit had devised for Europe, was just… unacceptable. Unforgivable.

Why, then? Why must you make the strangest of friends, brother? They all are terrible bastards, every single one of them!

What… did you say?

I said every friend you make is a hellish bastard, you hear me? I mean, look at what Germany's done, not to mention Japan's atrocities! I mean, look what they did to you! Look at what they've pressured you into doing!

They were my friends. They stuck up for me.

Yeah, whatever! You know, Holy Rome was no better!

…Please stop.

He just goes and abandons you for something we all want: out of this world and it's bloodshed! He abandoned everything for it, he didn't stay to fight through, because he was a selfish coward!

Stop it. Now.

No, I won't! He was a freaking retarded coward! He couldn't fight, and now look what happened to him! He's gone forever! Those are the only kind of friends you can pick, aren't they? Ones that lose in the end. Weak, spineless cowards.

Shut up.

Romano was currently sobbing in his chair, deeply regretting every word of filth that had sprung from the venomous side of his heart. Spain had awkwardly tried to pat his shoulder to provide security to the upset soul. However, the Spaniard stopped halfway through and put his hand down to rearrange his papers, something he'd already done at least five times in the past few minutes. The usually ill-tempered Italian knew he'd lost all chance for possible redemption from his usually cheery brother when he heard that short, brief, jarring phrase come from Veneciano's mouth. For once, it was not upturned in a lighthearted grin.

It's strange, Veneciano's smile was like a drug. You experience it regularly, and then when it's taken away, you feel terrible. Like the world isn't right. Romano wanted to see it desperately, more than anything else.

V-Veneciano? What's-

Shut up! I don't want to hear another pathetic lie from your mouth.

Veneciano, I was only trying to- you know I didn't mean-

Shut up, shut up, shut up. Can't you understand? You said it anyway. And guess what? It's not a lie that he's gone. He's gone. But you know what? You're more selfish than he ever was. He wouldn't say something just to experience the self-satisfaction of crushing others, of hurting me! He didn't want to go away, you know!

How-

He wanted to dance with me in the grass in the nights while the orchestra played from inside the castle walls, wanted to laugh with me again, he wanted to see his room all cleaned up like he would whenever he came home from battle! He wanted to learn new things, he wanted to be able to smile a lot more, wanted to learn how to improve his painting, wanted us to play Austria's piano together when he wasn't looking! He wanted me to teach him all about the flowers I find and introduce him to a baby bird I had found in the forest! He wanted to do all these things, but it was taken away from him! He wanted to live, so don't you DARE say that he embraced Death like a friend!

Veneciano, you can't ignore that he was still weak, a trait I'm trying to say a lot of your friends have, something you need to change!

I told you to shut. Up.

See? It's influenced you to be unreasonable! You know, sometimes I think it would've been better if you and Holy Rome had never crossed paths...

Shut the hell up! I hate you!

Veneciano finally realized at the glass double doors of the classy office building that his boss would kill him for not staying at the meeting. Sure, Romano could stay and take notes for him, but his boss would still be furious at him for disgracing his country by ditching the Summit.

Huffing angrily through his rage, he began to retrace his path with long, brisk strides. Sometimes he really despised his duties. Coming back in that room would not only be extremely awkward, it'd be embarrassing as hell too. Oh well, he had to do it, so he'll just get the meeting over with, then hightail it back to his hotel room, and go to bed.

And so he did. The meeting managed to continue on, the two Italy brothers approved of the new financial plan, and the Summit managed to get through more than usual, what with the quiet, controlled atmosphere.

France opened his mouth to say something as Veneciano darted out of his chair once the Summit was closed once night broke out. However, England gripped his shoulder, and France seemed to get the silent, "Shut up, you'll make it worse" message. Romano called after his brother, but he had already made it in the elevator before he could stop his northern counterpart.

That night, laying in bed next to Romano, Veneciano tried to comprehend the day. What had happened?

He had eaten breakfast, which consisted of fruit and a small portion of pasta salad, then started to go over his notes from the meeting held the last night, before stepping in a cab to make his way to the office building where the Summit was being held. Lunch had come and he had eaten a pretzel and some water from some rickety food stand on the side of the road near his destination.

He arrived a few minutes late, an action that earned him a disapproving glare from Germany. He sat down, and started to take notes. It was like any normal day, truly. What shattered everything?

He was full of rage even now, laying in his fluffy hotel bed, eyes wide open, next to his brother, who seemed already lost in his dreams. How could Romano have said that? It was full of so much hatred and bitterness, how does his brother manage to say such spiteful things all the time?

Trying to take a step back, Veneciano tried to delve into why he was angry, exactly. Well, that was obvious. He was furious at Romano for saying that Holy Rome was selfish and weak. Yes, maybe he had lost, but that did not necessarily make him weak. And he was most certainly not selfish. He spent so much time with him, little weak Italy who couldn't do much of anything outside of art. He would smile at him, smile at him so tenderly. He said he'd come back and then they'd smile some more. It seemed like he would smile sometimes just for Veneciano, hear about something Veneciano messed up horribly, and just smile and chuckle a bit and tell one of the servants to go pick up whatever mess he had made. He wanted to smile and laugh a lot more, he had told Veneciano once, so that maybe people wouldn't be so afraid of him, and then he could make more friends. Veneciano had giggled and told him he had plenty of friends already, to which Holy Rome asked him to name them.

He had named himself immediately, of course, then kind-hearted Mr. Austria, and nice Miss Hungary, then… then he found that he had paused for quite a few minutes while thinking. Holy Rome gave a waning, sad smile, before saying there were so many other people he wanted to smile and laugh with. New people to meet, old people to make friends with. Maybe France would like him sometime.

France? You want to be friends with big brother France? But you two quarrel so much!

I know, but I see him pat your head like when we were very, very small, before Grandpa took you away, the innocent days. And sometimes, I wish he would smile tenderly and gently pat my head too. Do you think he will, someday?

Yes! Big brother France is very nice. Of course he will!

Really? That would make me so happy.

With the passionate fire in his chest having died down, all Veneciano could feel was a aching pain even deeper. Realizing the slight dampness on his cheeks, Veneciano realized why the day had gone the way it did, why the anger had rose in his chest so easily.

"Even if you feel sad…" Romano spoke quietly from his side. "… you can still be happy."

Veneciano riveted his body around to face his brother, who was looking down at the empty space between them. "It doesn't all end… with sadness."

Letting a radiant smile burst from his lips, Veneciano closed his eyes before whispering back, "I know."

Veneciano, why are you sad?

I'm sad because I lost a friend of mine.

You don't have to be sad.

Really?

You'll be happy later.

I will?

Yes, you will. Do you want me to promise?

No. I believe you.

Awakening the next morning with sunlight dancing over his eyelids, Veneciano found Germany, Japan, America, England, France, China, Russia, Prussia, Spain, and Canada smiling at him, with his big brother in the middle, grinning brightly.

"Err… we were a bit worried about you after yesterday's events… so we… came to check on you…" Germany started off with, clearly bashful.

"We're sorry to invade your personal space like this, but we are very glad to see that you are doing fine." Japan continued in a level voice.

" 'Cause like, dude, you totally freaked us out yesterday! I, being the hero, wanted to make sure you were alright my homey! You can thank me la-" England quickly protested the American's statement. "He doesn't need to thank you, git! You didn't even come up with the idea!"

"You didn't either, so you have no bragging rights England. And I'm perfectly satisfied because of that, black sheep of Europe!" France cut in with, smirking at how red the Englishman's face became. "You bloody frog-"

"Let's rumble, rosbif." The Frenchman sneered, before they launched into a full fledged fight, with America laughing on the sidelines and China sighing wearily next to Russia, who was a spectator in the ordeal with a contented smile on his face. Prussia was laughing as well and cheering on France, Spain doing the same as he held a swearing, protesting Romano to him tightly, as Canada flinched at the blows exchanged between his two parental figures.

"I am so sorry we brought them…" Germany groaned as Japan put a hand to cover his face from the sight.

Veneciano smile only increased in joy, however, as he felt the light shine into the dark recesses of himself.

I believe you.