"You said forever, stronzo." Asshole. Romano snarled. He wiped the tears on his face angrily, and wondered why, why, why.
He looked up and scowled at the bright blue sky, pretty clouds flitting easily and softly without a care in the world. Birds tweeted their joyous sound and Romano shook his head bitterly. It was as if the whole fucking world didn't give a shit. It was as if God didn't care that his nations were just simply gone. It should be fucking raining, and the birds shouldn't be singing. The world didn't have the right to be happy, not now, not ever.
"Why, bastard?" He whispered to the air. Because everyone was gone. Everyone had left him. They were gone, gone, gone.
And Romano was not.
xxx
It had started with the greatest. The biggest, the brightest, the best. The one that was idolized, celebrated, praised. Loved. Remembered.
Hated. Romano whispered and smiled. A small, little thing. Devoid of all emotion. Romano couldn't find it within himself to care. Not anymore.
For the greatest had also been criticized. Let down. Insulted. Pushed down and ignored. Oh, Romano remembers that all too clearly. He remembered everything. He remembers how bright blue eyes had bled red, and how the nation had screamed and cried and just gave up.
Because they all cracked. They all fell. They all couldn't take it. Romano remembers. He remembers how it all started with the darling of the world, the idiot of the world.
Romano remembers the day the United States of America falls.
xxx
"This is rubbish." England sniped harshly as he slammed the papers bound together down on the table. America stared at him with wide eyes, so full of surprise and amusement, and dare Romano say it? Hurt. The poor bastard was hurting, and England just couldn't see it.
"I agree with England." Japan said softly and America turned his gaze to his best friend. Embarrassment flushed the cheeks of the boy, because he was nothing more than that really. He was a child to the gathering of nations here today and damn, did he know it more than ever.
"It's a complete waste of time." China sighed. And the others hummed in agreement, varying looks of annoyance and tiredness on their features. America clenched his jaw and shrugged, smiling at them easily. As if he wasn't hurting, wasn't screaming inside. Hollywood was in America after all, and he'd be damned before he'd let himself show the others how broken he was.
"Oh come on, dudes, you'll never know until you try!" He chirped cheerfully, smiling at them all brilliantly. They scowled back at him and America shrank back minutely. Fucking bastard. You have to fight back, Romano thought. Where was the home of the brave, dipshit?
"It's useless." Cuba yelled and America flinched, hiding it under a scowl.
"Impossible." America's head dropped and he stared at his lap, glaring at it. But his gaze was hidden from view and none saw the venom and the anger in his dark blue eyes.
"Unneeded." America's fist clenched and he let out a low breath. A hiss, a growl, a snarl. All locked up inside his throat. Nobody needed him, huh?
"It's not like it matters anyway." America's eyes flash dangerously. What's he trying to say? That America doesn't matter? Fuck him. Fuck that.
"God, America, you're such an idiot." Oh, he was, wasn't he? America trembled slightly and unclenched his fists, staring at his callused and scarred palms. Idiot.
"Stupid excuse for a nation." His eyes water slightly and America blinks away the tears furiously. He was trying. Didn't it matter? Why the fuck did everyone care what he did? If he did nothing he was cursed, if he did something he was criticized. Why try?
"No wonder your people hate you." America stiffens. He seems to change in a split second, and before any of them could even think, America had stood up and driven his fist into the conference table.
It splits and the table falls apart right in front of them. Gasps fill the room as he looks up, gaze dangerous. The room goes absolutely still. Eyes widen, breaths catch in throats. All of them stare. Blood red eyes glare at them, so hateful and cold that their hearts skip a painful beat. The bright blue that speaks of freedom, courage and the American Dream is gone. Gone, gone, gone.
It's then that Romano figures it out. That was the last straw. That was the thing that finally broke the bastard.
The truth.
America snarls at them all and they stare at him.
"Fuck you!" He screams. He shakes his head desperately and collapses back into his chair, hiding his face in his hands. His silent sobs shake his form and all the world can do is watch. America seems to curl into himself and when he looks up, his eyes are still the same haunting shade of red. They swallow and look away as blood seems to drip down his cheeks.
"I love my people." America says, so quiet that they hardly hear it. He shakes his head and laughs hysterically.
And then he stops. His laugh cuts off and America's gaze turns hard and cruel. He stands up again and looks at them all, red eyes blank. His gaze stops at England, and the man clenches his jaw. America narrows his eyes and laughs bitterly.
"I was never good enough for you, was I?" America said softly. England's lips part but his voice betrays him and leaves him speechless. America looks at the rest of the silent nations and scowls. "I was never good enough for all of you!" He screeches and the personifications shift nervously in their seats.
"Fuck you." America snarls. "I'm done." He stomps off and heads to the window. They stare at him in confusion and watch in horror as America kicks the glass. It breaks and shatters, shards of glass raining down on the thankfully empty sidewalk. He hoists himself up on the ledge and turns to face them, a glint in his eyes that tell of so much more than he's letting on. He knows something. He's in on a great big secret that the rest of the world doesn't know.
He raises his arms and then does a mock bow, smirking slightly. Romano feels a pit of dread in his stomach. He couldn't be–No... America closes his eyes and falls backwards.
"America, no!" England yells and scrambles to the window. But it's too late. When the nations run to the window and look down, their eyes widen in shock, confusion, hope.
There is no body. America is simply...
Gone.
xxx
Two hundred years ago, Romano had fallen in love.
No.
Romano had realized he was in love. With who, you ask?
None other than the wonderful Espagna, of course.
Spain, with his sparkling green eyes. Spain, with his passion and energy and love. Spain, Spain, Spain.
Romano hurt so bad because Spain was an idiot. Spain was oblivious and oh so unaware of just how deep Romano's feelings went. Spain didn't see that he was no longer his henchman, but a grown man. A nation who was capable of standing by himself.
But that all changed. That bastard got into a jealous hissy fit when one of his civilians got a little too friendly with him more than 200 hundred years after Romano realized how he felt.
Romano still remembers that night. He remembers biting, desperate kisses and whispered apologies and declarations of love. He remembers skin on skin and the slide of sweat. He remembers making love.
But.
One week ago, Spain had fallen.
Just like the rest of them.
xxx
"Spain, please. Look at me, fucking bastard." Romano whispered desperately, shaking the still nation who was curled up on the floor. The bar that was once full of life was empty and quiet and Romano was fucking scared, damn it. They had hidden in the abandoned bar after Spain collapsed in a fit of tremors.
Spain whimpered and shifted away from Romano's touch. Romano scowled and tightened his grip on his lover's shoulder. "Spain." He snapped. Spain shook his head and whimpered, pressing his forehead to his knees.
"Mi tomate, please, you must go." Spain whined, tremors encasing his entire body. "I can't–Roma, I can't hold it any more." He hissed. Romano stared at him, his heart beating against his ribcage painfully. No... Not Spain, please, not Spain. He swallowed the lump in his throat and shook his head.
"Fucking bastard. You think I'll leave you behind?" He scowled. Spain nodded minutely and Romano growled, "Hell no, stronzo. Come." He snapped, and stood up, already heading to the exit as he passed by the mini-stages with poles meant for strippers.
"You promised me, Roma." Spain whispered, choking slightly on his words. Romano stilled mid-step at that and he clenched his jaw, staring at the path to freedom.
"You promised me that you'd leave me behind if I was next." Spain said, his voice rising in volume. Romano swallowed and shook his head.
"I can't do that, Spain, I can't." He said, voice breaking as he turned to look at the nation who was curled up in a fetal position on the floor of the dank bar they had hidden in. Spain was everything to him. How could the bastard expect him to leave him behind? He didn't want to lost another one. Not after... Not after his fratello. Brother.
Spain was quiet at that, and then he looked up, eyes as red as blood freezing Romano to the bone. He stared in horror as Spain's lips twitched.
"You must." Spain said seriously, eyes glinting dangerously. Romano stepped back, eyes wide. Fear and adrenaline coursed through his body and Romano trembled at the weight of Spain's gaze.
And then Romano blinks and Spain is gone.
xxx
Romano stared helplessly at his hands. He couldn't figure it out. Why was he still here? Everyone was gone. Except him.
He pushed the back of his palms to his eyes and hoped to God that he was next.
xxx
When Romano was younger, his Grandpa Rome always told him that he's be the one to follow after him. That's why he was called Romano. He was the hope of the Roman Empire. Romano always believed him.
That is, until he took Veneziano with him and left Romano alone. Romano hated him for that. Hated him for favoring his fratellino. Hated him for filling Romano's head with silly little promises and lies.
But then his Grandpa was defeated. Lost.
Gone.
It was then that Romano started to hate himself. What was the use of hating a dead man?
xxx
Romano and Spain found America one month before Spain had fallen and two months after the American himself snapped.
Romano almost didn't recognize him. If it weren't for that tingle Romano felt around other nations, he would have never realized just who exactly he was.
Romano and Spain had been out in something akin to a date, which Romano vehemently denied, because dates weren't his thing. Spain was laughing about something mundane and Romano had been scowling and wishing that Spain would just shut up and let him hold his hand but then Romano's gaze had caught on a familiar looking ahoge. He blinked and shook his head, thinking that he was simply imagining things but then, Spain had stilled too.
A tingle at the base of his neck started up and ran down his spine. Romano shivered and tightened his grip on Spain's hand. Spain squeezed his hand in return, silently telling him that that very same tingle had raced down his own spine too.
They both stiffened as a dark-haired man in shades brushed by them. At the same time, they met each other's gaze and then turned around just in time to see the familiar feeling man start running.
"Joder!" Fuck! Spain cursed. They ran after him. If this man was who they thought he was, then he could be the solution to the missing nations whose eyes have shifted into shades of red, purple, gold and many more that Romano couldn't name before disappearing.
"America!" Romano yelled. Several heads turned and frowned at the name of a country that was not their own and was currently in anarchy but Romano ignored them. Romano didn't give a shit what they thought. "Come back here, you bastard!" Romano screamed desperately.
The man looked back and smirked, before lifting his dark shades. He winked at them, red eyes amused and insane and Romano snarled. America ran through the street and Spain grabbed the back of Romano's shirt just as he was about to step out into the busy Madrid streets. He stumbled into Spain's chest and blinked.
A car screeched past Romano and Romano hissed as it barely brushed by him. When their view was clear again, America was gone.
xxx
Romano stared at their bed. It was still rumpled and Romano smiled bitterly. They had fled in the middle of the night when Veneziano had kicked the door open, huge white smile and gleaming purple eyes flashing in the dark. Veneziano had fallen a week after Spain and he first saw the changed American.
He shook his head and sat down, sighing. This was all so messed up. He hasn't been inside his home since his fratellino had burst through their door and all the memories of Veneziano and Spain were bombarding him. It was just so painful being alone and lost with no one by his side.
Spain and he had gone around the world for 3 weeks before Spain had fallen, hunting hopelessly for a glimpse of the changed nations and doing their best to look for a country who was still him or herself.
It was in those three weeks that they found Prussia.
xxx
Spain swallowed nervously and caught Romano's panicked gaze from across the street. Romano leaned against the building adjacent to the building Spain himself was leaning against. He brought out a gun they had stolen and nodded at Romano. Romano sucked in a low quiet breath and drew his gun out from his pocket. He was South Italy motherfuckers and he would not stand for this. He was the Father of the Mafia, damn it, and he was ruthless. He could do this.
He loaded the gun, features flattening into an unemotional façade. He nodded at Spain and they tensed, ready to attack whatever the fuck was out there roaming German streets. He never liked the potato bastard but the man had held a soft spot for his idiota of a brother and the fall of his brother had ultimately been the cause for the German's own fall. Romano would honor that, at least.
Romano nodded again and Spain took that as a signal, twirling around and out to the streets with his gun held firmly in his hands, an expression on his face that Romano couldn't name. Romano flinched because that definitely wasn't a fucking signal, god damn it and he'd kill himself if Spain died because of that.
Instead of getting shot and or shooting at the unknown nation however, Spain stilled and blinked before letting a smile embrace his features.
"Prussia!" He greeted his best friend ecstatically and Romano blinked in surprise. He peeked around the wall and frowned when he saw Prussia. If it was possible, the albino was even paler than usual and that was really fucked-up.
He walked out and Prussia frowned at them. "You're still the same." He said slowly. Spain beamed at him and nodded.
"Sí, mi amigo! I'm still me, and Roma's still Roma!" Spain said excitedly, and started to skip towards Prussia. Romano followed behind him warily, narrowing his eyes. What if Prussia wasn't Prussia? What if he just hadn't changed? Some of the nations were like that. Their physical features didn't change much but their personalities took a complete 180.
"And you're still you!" Spain continued, smiling a huge white smile at the other third of his trio. Now, if France was here then things would be perfect.
Prussia smiled sadly. "Not exactly." He said softly. Romano and Spain stiffened, and Spain immediately backed off, holding his gun up. He gave Prussia a strained smile and took off the safety of his gun. Romano did the same, sighing a bit.
Prussia gave them both amused looks. "It's inevitable, you two." Spain frowned in confusion and Prussia gave him a small, slow smile.
Romano scowled at that. "What are you talking about, bastard?" He growled, fingering the trigger. So help him God, he'd shoot this bastard.
Prussia sighed and looked skyward. It was then that Romano noticed the long scar running down from his jaw to his neck and then disappearing under his shirt. He grit his teeth and looked away from the ugly redness of it.
"You're all going to change, whether you like it or not." Prussia clarified quietly and they both had to strain their ears to hear him. Romano frowned.
"We'll go down fighting." Romano snapped and Prussia's easy-going gaze drifted over to him. "Maybe. But you'll go down anyway."
And then he was gone.
xxx
A ringing breaks Romano's reverie. Slowly, his gaze drifts to the telephone on the bedside table. He crawls toward it and frowns when he sees that it's an unknown number. He picks up and places it to his ear.
"Ciao?" Hello? He said uncertainly, heartbeat loud in his ears. He swallows down the fear and tightens his grip on his phone.
"Roma." A voice breaths on the other end. Romano freezes, blood running cold at who he hears.
"Spain?" He said desperately, eyes wide. "Fucking bastard, what the hell?" He hisses, and a low chuckle answers him. Romano grits his teeth, and shakes slightly at the cold sound.
"Not the one you know, mi tomate." Spain sang, laughing slightly. Romano squeezes his eyes shut and growls. Idiota. Spain was gone. This wasn't the Spain he knew and loved, god damn it.
"Ti ucciderò." I will kill you. He hissed, anger boiling within him. How dare that bastard call him what Spain used to call him? How dare he call him and bring his hopes up?
Spain tutted condescendingly. "Now, now, Roma, that's not nice." He coos and Romano snarls in response.
"Vaffanculo!" Fuck off! He snapped. Spain laughed darkly, but he cut himself off quickly. He hummed thoughtfully and Romano scowls at the easy sound.
"The bar you first saw me, 2 hours from now." Spain said simply, and hung up.
Romano stared at the phone. Cazzo. Fuck.
xxx
They searched for America. Every nation was asked to keep an eye on him, but truth is, they didn't know what they'd find. They didn't know if America would still be America when they found him. They didn't even know if America still existed.
Their thoughts and mood grew somber as the American government fell and anarchy took route. Canada and England especially didn't take it well. Their own governments offered assistance but the American people rebelled and protested against what they thought was the British trying to gain control of them once more. England had a huge fit over that, yelling loudly about stubborn wankers and had stormed off.
At first they thought it was a one time thing, that America's red eyes were special. They didn't think that it would spread. That it would happen to them. They didn't think that their eyes would switch color.
But it did.
xxx
"Why the bloody hell would he be in France?" England snapped irritably. France scowled at him, "Mon ami, I was simply stating that I saw someone who looked like him except with darker hair."
Germany frowned at that. "So his hair color had changed too?" He said skeptically. The gathering of nations were quiet at that. If that were the case, then they'd have to look for America themselves and wait for that tingle they'd feel around nations.
"So, assuming he's around France, we just go around and hope that we'd feel him." Netherlands said flatly. Other nations murmured at that, uncertainty coloring their words. That was impractical, time-consuming and a hassle.
"We should wait for America to come back." Greece murmured sleepily. The world nodded in agreement at that and Canada frowned.
"Give him a few weeks." Norway spoke up, face blank. Denmark rolled his eyes at that and Norway glared at him, kicking his seat. "Faen ta deg." Fuck you. He mouthed and Denmark beamed at him in response.
"And what if he doesn't come back?" Canada said softly, hugging his polar bear to his chest. The rest of the nations ignored him and Canada frowned, tightening his grip.
"He's hurting." England grumbled. "He does stupid things when he's hurt." A few nations laughed at that and England scowled. "That wasn't supposed to be funny." He muttered.
"What if he doesn't come back?" Canada asked again, louder this time. Everyone seemed so sure that America would just suddenly appear in the next world meeting as if nothing had happened. As if nothing was wrong. As if they weren't the reason his brother had screamed and cried and jumped off the window.
But once again, they ignored Canada. He twitched. Ostie. (AN: Ostie's a Quebecois swear. I don't even know why. It means host.)
"What if he doesn't come back?!" He yelled, slamming his palms on the table. The nations jolted and looked at him in surprise. Canada flushed and sat back down, crossing his arms over his chest in annoyance. Kuma-whatever poked his cheek and frowned.
"Oh, uh, Ca–Canadia, right?" Germany asked.
He was so fucking sick of this.
He was so fucking sick of never getting recognized, never getting noticed. He wasn't going to take it anymore. He was a fucking nation and he had the right to be recognized and listened to just like any other fucking nation in this room. God damn it.
"Maybe he doesn't want to come back." He hissed. "Maybe he's so fucking sick and tired of being put down everyday and having to listen to you."
"Je m'en fous. Because I am. Va te faire enculer." I don't give a fuck. Go fuck yourself. Canada snapped. He blinked away the wetness in his eyes and scowled, rubbing it hastily.
It stained his sleeve purple. Canada stared at it blankly and then his lips curved into something that could resemble a smile. His heart beat loudly in his ears and Canada laughed darkly. There was an odd fire in his chest and Canada embraced it, shivering slightly as the taste of freedom and finally, finally letting go came to him in response.
He knew what happened to America now.
And then Canada was gone.
xxx
Romano tapped his foot impatiently and glared at the poles. This place was scary, damn it. This place was where he lost the love of his life. He couldn't shake off the memory of how Spain had looked up and how his cold red eyes had pierced Romano. He leaned against the wall and sighed, dropping his head back against it.
If only they hadn't run into France. Maybe he'd still have Spain with him. Maybe he wouldn't be so alone.
xxx
"Mi tomate?" Spain asked, placing a warm hand at the small of the Italian's back. Romano scowled at him. "Shut up, bastard. Don't call me that." He flushed a deep red as Spain stroked his back comfortingly.
Spain actually smiled at that and used his hand to turn Romano towards him. Romano faced him willingly although with a frown on his face. Spain pulled him in even closer and Romano sighed contentedly as Spain closed the distance and kissed him sweetly. This is what he lived for now. They may not have forever, not anymore at least, but he was going to enjoy the feel of Spain's lips against his while he could.
Spain reached up to his hair and pulled the curl gently. Romano groaned against his lips and fisted the back of his shirt. Spain giggled and Romano flushed before biting down on Spain's bottom lip. Spain laughed at that and pulled away, leaning his forehead against Romano's. Romano's lips twitched into a small smile and Spain grinned at him.
"Aww, how sweet." A familiar voice purred. Romano's heart stopped. They pulled away hastily and stared at the newcomer.
"France." Romano greeted, frowning at the obviously changed nation. Spain had gone still beside him and Romano glanced at him quickly. Spain was pale and there was this look on his face that spoke of loss and pain.
France smirked, purple eyes flashing as he regarded the two of them hungrily. "Romano. Spain." He said smoothly, as if their names were the best thing he's ever heard. The unbridled sexuality of his gaze and tone made Romano sneer.
"Back off, bastard." Romano scowled. France smiled dangerously and before Romano and Spain could even move, France had Spain pinned up against the wall. Romano growled and lunged at the two but arms were suddenly wrapped around his waist and holding him back.
"What the fuck?!" He screeched, and struggled to get out of the man's grip. "Now, now, wenig Romano." Little Romano. A voice murmured in his ear. Prussia. Cazzo.
"Espagne." France said, pressing their bodies together. Spain stared at him, his eyes wide and glanced at Romano. His face fell when he saw Prussia and a look of utmost horror crossed his features. Romano gave him a look and Spain frowned.
"Francia." Spain replied, clenching his jaw. "I'd appreciate it, mi amigo, if you let me go." He said, voice even and careful. France raised an eyebrow at the hints of a tremor in his tone and smirked.
"But Spain, can't you see? I have changed; Prussia has changed. We're missing one amigo." France purred, fingers tracing Spain's jaw. Spain flinched and leaned away from him as he shook his head, but France's grip tightened and he brought their faces closer to each other's.
"Vaffanculo!" Romano screamed, and stomped on Prussia's foot. Prussia snarled and yanked his arms back. Romano's eyes rolled up to the back of his head at the pain of his arms almost being yanked off their sockets and collapsed back into Prussia. He whimpered and Prussia smiled at him good-naturedly. As if he weren't the cause of Romano's pain.
"Don't piss me off, wenig Romano." He said cheerfully, a dark undertone in his words. Spain gave him a worried look and Romano shook his head, blinking away the tears. He was a grown man. He could fucking take care of himself, damn it.
"Ah." France said, following Spain's gaze to Romano. "What if mon petit Romano were to change? Would you change too?" He asked softly, smirking slightly as if he had all the answers in the world.
Spain's eyes widened at that and he gave Romano a panicked look. "Don't you dare touch him." He hissed. France's eyes glinted and Prussia laughed softly.
"Touch him?" Prussia asked, red eyes flashing. "Like this?" He twisted Romano's arm. Romano cried out at the burst of hot pain and Spain growled, stepping forward to him. France blocked him and smirked as Spain snarled angrily.
"Let him go." He snapped and France smiled at him easily. He nodded at Prussia and Prussia released Romano. Romano hissed as his arms were free and rubbed them. Fuck, that hurt like a bitch. He scowled at Prussia and Prussia smiled at him.
"Au revoir, Espagne." France sang. And then they were gone.
"Bastards." Romano grunted and turned to Spain. Spain smiled at him shakily and leaned against the wall France had pinned him against. He let out a long breath and frowned.
"Spain?" Romano asked uncertainly. "Are you okay?"
Spain bit his lip and nodded. "Sí, sí. I'm fine." He murmured.
Romano swallowed nervously and ignored the lost look on Spain's face.
xxx
He was going to see Spain again, or something like him, and Romano... Romano trembled in fear. He didn't want to fall. He didn't want to change and have his eyes bleed an unnatural color. He didn't want that. He didn't want to be gone. He wanted to live.
Romano wanted to lie in the sun and eat tomatoes with Spain. He wanted to see his fratellino smile again, full of innocence and radiance as bright as the sun. He wanted to mock the potato bastard and sleep until noon. He wanted to make love to Spain and eat some more tomatoes and pasta until he was full.
He wanted things to go back to normal.
He wanted that stupid American to say stupid things at World Meeting and have that British fucker disagree with him. He wanted to see France prance around and flirt with every pretty thing he could find. He wanted to see China make his stupid Chinatowns and Russia laugh that creepy as hell laugh of his.
Okay, maybe he didn't want to hear Russia's laugh but whatever.
But he couldn't have that. Not anymore. It was gone, gone, gone. It was gone the moment America's eyes bled red.
"Fratello?" A sing-song voice reached him. Romano stiffened and his features twisted into a scowl. He turned to where the voice came from and came face to face with his little brother.
He stumbled backwards in surprise, his eyes wide at how close his Northern half was.
Veneziano sneered and grabbed the front of his shirt before slamming him against the wall he had been leaning against. Romano's vision whited out as the back of his head hit the wall. He hissed angrily and grabbed his brother's hands, trying to push him away.
"Ciao, fratello." Hello, brother. Veneziano said softly, purple eyes flashing as he took in Romano's appearance. "I've missed you."
xxx
"Spain." Romano gasped out, curling into the body beside him. Spain hummed in response and wrapped an arm around Romano's waist groggily.
"Roma?" He mumbled, squinting slightly. Romano nodded and buried his head into Spain's chest as he stretched out his legs and entangled them with Spain's.
"Did you hear about Venice?" He asked in a hushed tone, clenching his fists in Spain's shirt. Spain furrowed his eyebrows at that and shook his head in confusion.
"I can feel it." Romano murmured. "I only represent South Italy but I'm still Italy, Spain. I still feel what's happening." He hissed.
Spain rubbed his shoulders comfortingly, "Mi tomate, what happened?" He whispered, and Romano shook his head desperately. Flashes of screams, death, and fire–fucking hell, fire in Venice?!–invaded his mind.
"Go, go! Take your sorella and run!"
"Mama!"
"Spain, it hurts, God."
"Ti amo."
"I'm so sorry for everything."
"Venice, Spain! My fratello, we have to–"
"Help! Somebody help! Aiuto! Aiuto!"
"My baby's still inside! Dios mio, per favore."
"Venice is–"
The door burst open. Spain and Romano jolted up and stared, wide-eyed, at the figure on the door. Veneziano was there, an insane glint in his purple–oh fuck, purple–eyes and knife gripped tightly in his hands.
"Venice is gone." Veneziano said darkly.
xxx
Romano scowled at his brother. "What are you doing here?" He snarled and Veneziano rolled his eyes.
"To pick you up, idiota." Veneziano snapped, narrowing his eyes slightly. Romano realized that he hardly ever saw his brother with his eyes open. This Veneziano however, always had his eyes open. It was disconcerting to see the difference between the fratellino he knew and the man in front of him. The sweet, naïve little manchild was gone, and Romano actually missed him.
"You look tan." Romano said wryly as he looks his fratellino up and down. Veneziano smirked at that. He was. At least, well, tanner than the brother Romano had last seen.
"I have to take you somewhere." Veneziano grumbled, as if it was the worst chore ever. Romano narrowed his eyes and glowered at him. He liked his brother better before he changed.
"Where?" Romano snapped, pushing his brother away. Veneziano backed off him and smirked mischievously
"To Spagna, of course."
xxx
"Fratello, you've got to talk to him." His brother pleaded and Romano scowled.
"Fuck no. That stupid bastard had no right to do that and he knows it. If anything, he should talk to me." Romano grumbled irritably. Veneziano pouted at that and Romano frowned at him.
"What? Are you siding with that stronzo?" Romano snapped and Veneziano simply pouted at him again.
"I just think he has a reason that you should listen to." Veneziano said meaningfully. Romano bit his lip and shrugged, looking away from his brother. "Tell him to come to Italy then and tell me that goddamned reason."
"No need, Roma." A soft, uncertain voice said. Romano stiffened and Veneziano perked up, a smile replacing his pout.
"Big brother Spain!" Veneziano cheered and Spain smiled at him, green eyes warm. He turned to Romano and Romano raised an eyebrow at him expectantly. He crossed his arms and tapped his foot impatiently as Spain just gave him a strained smile.
"Well? What's your reason, bastard?" Romano asked irritably and Spain flinched. Veneziano looked at him and Spain and laughed nervously.
"Arrivederci, fratello!" He said cheerfully and proceeded to skip out to their veranda. Romano and Spain watched him leave and then turned back towards each other.
Spain smiled sheepishly at Romano and rubbed the back of his head. "Roma, I just wanted to say that I'm sorry."
Romano nodded. "Okay, bastard. And?" He asked cooly. Spain pouted and Romano glared at him. Spain sighed at that and looked away, a red flush on his cheeks. Romano frowned and watched in slight amusement as Spain fiddled with the hem of his shirt.
"Um. Te amo." I love you. Spain murmured. All amusement that Romano had been feeling faded. He blinked and then scowled.
"Very funny, stronzo. Now what was your reason?" He snapped, his hands clenching into fists. How dare that bastard make a joke out of that? Romano clenched his jaw. It's not like the idiot knew how Romano felt for him, so of course he'd think it was funny. He looked around him suspiciously. If he was right then France and Prussia would be around here somewhere with a video camera ready to catch Romano's reaction.
Spain blinked and then weirdly enough, his features set into determination. "Te quiero mucho, Roma." I love you very much. He said seriously and Romano shook his head stubbornly. Damn Spain. Spain frowned and looked up desperately. Romano gave him an odd look.
Almost as if lightning struck him, Spain jolted and beamed at Romano. "Te adoro!" I adore you. He chirped and Romano sighed, shaking his head again slightly. This was getting idiotic.
"Me vuelves loca?" You make me crazy? Spain tried, scrunching up his nose slightly. Romano raised an eyebrow. Come on. He could do better than that, surely. He smiled slightly though. Spain would have given up after the second try if he wasn't serious.
Spain was quiet at that and sighed, looking incredibly thoughtful. He bit his lip and walked towards Romano carefully.
Romano regarded him, his heart beating loudly in his chest that it was a wonder that Spain didn't hear it. Spain stopped right in front of him, and they were so close that Romano's breath hitched.
Spain, ever so gently, took Romano's hands in his and looked up, his pretty green eyes meeting Romano's. Romano swallowed nervously and glared even though his cheeks flushed an embarrassing red.
"Quiero ser tuya." I want to be yours. He said. The honesty and sincerity of his words made Romano's heart stop. He licked his dry lips and gave Spain a look of wonder. Spain smiled at him gently and Romano let out a choked laugh as he ducked his head.
"So...?" Spain asked, grinning slightly in giddiness as he rubbed the back of Romano's hands with his thumbs. Romano rolled his eyes and scoffed. "Idiota." He grumbled, and Spain laughed cheerfully.
Romano shifted slightly, and then carefully, "Te quiero besar." The Spanish rolled off his tongue weirdly and he flushed the moment it left his mouth. Spain's eyes widened at the sound of his language and the meaning it held before he grinned. An ecstatic laugh escaped him and he gave Romano a fond look.
Romano reddened at that and Spain took his face in his hands. "Bésame." He said and Romano complied, pressing their lips together. They pulled apart, both laughing slightly.
Romano looked down, smiling goofily at his shoes and Spain shook his head at that. "Look at me, querido." He said gently. Slowly, Romano looked up.
Hazel brown met warm green.
Romano smiled.
xxx
Romano stared at the man in front of him. "Spagna." He greets, voice cracking slightly. Spain's red eyes glint and he smiles at Romano. Romano glares at him and notes that the bastard's hair is as dark as night and not the brown that he remembers.
"Romano." He breathed excitedly and Romano scowled at him. Veneziano's eyes glinted in amusement at the exchange.
"Vaffanculo." He snapped. "Cut to the chase, bastard. What am I doing here? What the hell do you want, stronzo?"
Spain frowns at Romano. "I want Romano." He says simply and Romano's eyebrows furrow in confusion at that.
"I am Romano, you fucker." He snarls. What the actual fuck was this bastard going on about? He calls Romano up and makes him go to that stupid bar just to have his brother bring him here and then claim that he just wants Romano? What the hell? Veneziano actually has the guts to smirk in amusement at that and Romano glares at him.
Spain shakes his head and sighs. "You misunderstand me, querido. I want my Romano." He said and Romano's mouth dried up. He wanted Romano to change. He wanted Romano gone. All because he wanted the Romano he knew.
"No. Fuck you." Romano growled.
Spain sighed again and motioned him to go nearer, a smile on his lips that made Romano stiffen. Romano shook his head stubbornly and Spain scowled. Veneziano cursed and grabbed Romano's wrist, dragging him to Spain. Romano put his heel down and Veneziano growled, pulling him along harder. He skidded on the floor and Romano was vaguely aware that they looked ridiculous but so far, he didn't give a shit.
"Well, then. Arrivederci!" See you later! His fratellino sang once they were in front of Spain. And then he was gone. Romano scowled and crossed his arms as he glared at Spain.
"If you think that I'd change just so you could see your fucking Romano, then you're a fucking delusional bastard. I'd–"
Smack!
Romano stared, wide-eyed at Spain. The fucking bastard just slapped him! He placed a hand to his stinging cheek and blinked at Spain. Spain stared at him coldly, annoyance written clear as day on his face. Romano swallowed nervously and dropped his hand to his side, fixing his stunned expression into a blank one. Spain, in all of the years Romano was under his care, had never hit him. He had never done anything to intentionally hurt Romano but the way the Spain in front of him had hit him, it almost seemed like he did it everyday.
"You talk too much." He said flatly and Romano glowered at him. He didn't dare say a word though and kept his mouth shut. The two of them were quiet, both giving each other looks of distaste.
Spain sighed and then gave Romano a strained smile. "Lo siento, Romano. I've been on edge lately." He apologized and Romano glared at him. On edge, his ass. If this was what he'd experience everyday once he's changed then fuck him. Spain shifted slightly and Romano frowned as his whole demeanor seemed to change.
He looked up and met Romano's gaze. For one, single, heart stopping moment, Romano saw green. But then he blinked and the now familiar red was there.
"You should just let go." Spain murmured and brought gentle hands to stroke down Romano's arms carefully. Romano scowled and pulled away from his touch but Spain tightened his grip slightly as he pulled Romano closer towards him.
"It feels so good to let go, Roma." He whispered in Romano's ear huskily and Romano shivered. He shook his head and pushed Spain away from him weakly.
"When you change, it's for the better." Spain purred persuasively, hands drifting down to Romano's waist. Romano flushed.
"Pare vero." Seems true. Romano choked out, and that was not the sarcastic tone he had intended and Spain smiled dangerously as he ducked his head, placing a sweet kiss to Romano's neck. Romano hissed and leaned away from the Spaniard but froze when he pulled on Romano's curl. He let out a strangled groan and collapsed against Spain, face reddening. Oh fuck.
"You'll enjoy it." Spain whispered, breath hot against Romano's collarbone. "It won't hurt, mi tomate." Romano shook his head and tried in vain to stifle a moan as Spain's fingers twisted and stroked his curl.
"I promise." Spain said seriously as he lifted his head. His red eyes met Romano's brown ones and Romano shivered at the heat in them.
"Stop." He whispered as Spain kissed the corner of his mouth and moved down, biting and nipping harshly. "Per favore, Spagna." He pleaded weakly. Spain bit down on the juncture between neck and shoulder and Romano keened.
"Te amo." I love you. Spain whispered, and Romano's heart broke. He sounded so much like the Spain he knew. Every touch was so achingly familiar and Romano missed the bastard so much it hurt. He wanted to give in, just so he could be with Spain, or at least a copy of him.
"Te quiero mucho, Roma." I love you very much, Roma. Spain giggled and Romano flinched at the memories it brought. Spain wrapped his arms around Romano and Romano squeezed his eyes shut. Silently, he cursed the man as he dropped his head on Spain's shoulder.
Spain hummed contentedly and hugged Romano tighter. "Te adoro." I adore you. He whispered to Romano and Romano let out a broken sob, hating himself as a tear slipped down his face and stained Spain's shirt. He was so weak, damn it. But he missed Spain so much and he just couldn't take it anymore.
"Me vuelves loca." You make me crazy. Spain murmured, as if it was a secret and Romano's hands rose up to clench the back of Spain's shirt. He couldn't believe himself. He should be fighting. He shouldn't be fucking crying and sobbing and holding on to a Spain that wasn't Spain.
And then, Spain tightened his grip on Romano. Romano hissed in pain and drew back. Spain grabbed his jaw and Romano cried out, lashing at Spain with his right hand. Spain grabbed his wrist and tightened his hold painfully, bones gritting together.
"Quiero que seas mío." I want you to be mine. He hissed, red eyes flashing demonically and Romano screeched in horror. He sobbed as he pushed uselessly at Spain, tears slipping down his face.
Spain kissed him forcefully, hard and rough without a care for Romano. His eyes rolled back and he scratched pitifully at Spain's chest, screaming into the kiss.
Spain shoved Romano off him, sneering as Romano stumbled backwards. Romano collapsed and curled in on himself, shakes and tremors engulfing his body. Spain laughed darkly and dropped to his knees in front of Romano.
"Mi querido?" He purred and Romano shook his head, shoulders shaking with his sobs.
Spain scowled. "Look at me." He snapped, red eyes narrowing dangerously. Romano stilled at that and then slowly, he looked up.
Onyx black met red.
Romano screamed.
xxx
Happy ending? What happy ending? LOL. 7000+ words, bitches. OH YEAH.
So I had to write this short story in English. Except I got distracted and ended up writing another 2P fic. Ehehe. I tend to call Italy Veneziano since this is more or less Romano's POV and I think Romano would detest calling his fratellino Italy when he's also Italy. Sorry for the confusion? So, Veneziano's name is based of Venice, according to Himapapa, and Romano's came from Rome.
Anyway, my sorellina and I started this v-log thing. We talk about hetalia and stuff. Late at night. Cause sleeping is for the weak. .com, guys! Check it out, putas!
Classes were suspended since Monday. I hate storms like hell. Ugh. Usually, I enjoy suspensions, but if it's at the cost of lives? No thank you. My country's suffered enough. I hope to God that the Philippines will be safe. It's nice to see though that the Filipino spirit is as strong as ever. The victims are still smiling and laughing and having diving competitions from the tops of the highways over flooded areas. Ahhh, Filipinos.
Date began: August 6, 2012
Date finished: August 9, 2012