Why did he have to die?
Why, out of all the cruel people in the world, the ones who destroyed others' lives on purpose, the ones who had laughs, who had made them suffer and deserved to atone for their sins, did he have to die? He with the perpetual smile on his face, he the one who put up with everything the grumpy Italian did? Through all his swears and shouts, Antonio had never said a word, just smiled cheerfully and soothed him. Why did he have to leave now?
He needed him...and now, when it was too late, he finally realized it.
The Italian tried hard to keep tears off his face, but failed miserably and soon gave up the attempt. In one hand, he clutched a bouquet of white Casablanca lilies, and in the other, he held a tomato. It was a last parting gift for the man he had cared for, who had so loved those tomatoes. "They look just like you, Lovi!" he would say. Lovino bit his lip at the memory. He had been so annoyed then, but he would give anything just hear him say it again...
He could barely look at Antonio's grave, even though he had been there before. Heck, he had been to the funeral, though at that time, he had been surrounded by the sad faces of the other nations and the echos of his brother's sobs. They hadn't known what to do about a dead nation at that time. Lovino didn't either. For the longest time, he stood over the grave, not seeing, but feeling all of the emotions and memories he had of the older nation. How could he accept the fact that mighty Spain, Antonio, was gone forever? Now he was alone again. This time, none of Lovino's threats, curses, or demands could bring him back. He could never tell him again, never talk about his thoughts, feelings, and fears, never feel reassured-though he denied it- when Antonio said he would be there for him. But now he wasn't there. That thought was once as foreign as the concept of a nation dying. It was cruelly familiar now, something that kept on whispering the horrible reality in Lovino's ears. He's gone...other nations might not die like he did, but he is gone. It hurt too much to think about it.
Breaking out of his reverie, Lovino knelt to place the lilies on Antonio's grave, tears drying on his cheeks. What could he do now? "Idiot." he whispered. "Why did you leave?" Then he shook his head slightly. Those were horrible partings -horrible things to say, even though Antonio couldn't hear them. He glanced at the tomato in his hand and gently placed it on the grave, near the lilies. Lovino cleared his throat slightly.
"Hey. I'm sorry I could never tell you...but I always cared about you. Always. It's too late now, isn't it? But..." The younger man could feel tears sting his eyes again, and his heart tightened. "I wanted to tell you that I love you." Those words he had wanted to say, to the man who was like an older brother to him, and more, who had taken care of him and taught him about the world. How would he live without him? But he had to. Through the dark haze of his mind, through the pain and loss, he had only ever seen that option, the one he wanted to ignore. Was it worth it to live?
His eyes suddenly fell onto the red tomato, Spain's favorite fruit and vegetable. How Spain said cheerfully, "It's almost just worth living to be able to eat these tomatoes!" How Lovino had scoffed at him, then reconsidered as the Spainiard added, "Because it's worth most of all to be able to be here with you, Lovi, and enjoy life!"
Was there a point to life? With sudden resolve, Lovino looked up. He stood up unsteadily, brushing the dust off his creaking knees. "Do I have to go on? Without you?" he asked to the wind. "I'll have to try..." he whispered, clenching his fists. He would have to try, no matter how much his heart was gasping out in pain, how much his mind rebelled at reality, how much it hurt to take every breath when he thought about Antonio. He would live, for both of their sakes!
Slowly he straightened. The wind picked up again as Lovino stepped away, his hair whipping about in the wind. "Arrivederci..." was his last whisper to the grave.