Yo! Vanilla/Dreamer here! This is my first multi-chapter fanfiction thing that I'll be working on for now on, so I hope you guys like it!

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia, Hidekaz Hima-papa does.

Dear Motherfucking Journal,

Alright fucker, here goes. My name's Lovino Romano' Vargas, 16 years of age, male, Italian. It's nearly the end of my Summer Holiday. Obviously I'm in fucking High School, so let's see how things go. Well, as of late my life sucks dick. The only reason why I'm writing in this stupid thing is because Nonno and my stupid-as-fuck counselor told me that writing down the events that happen would help relieve out stress or some shit. As if it'll help me with all the complications in my life. (But I might keep it as a thing for my future self to read whatever the fuck happens in life.) But anyways, I'm off track.

What the fuck should I write on here anyways? Personal things? Pfffffffffft. Things that are happening in my life? ... Maybe. But nothing is going on right now.

... Why did I bother to try and write in you again? Beats me, but fuck it.

10 Minutes Later

Feliciano, my idiotic, air-headed brother just came home with pasta. Hu-fucking-rrah. I swear, he could eat a fucking mountain and still have room for gelato.

I have another brother, his name is Marcello. He's the youngest, yet the most flirtatious. Maybe it's because he's lived with Nonno far longer than me and Feli (Feliciano's nickname).

See, our parents never liked us. Actually, no, our dad never liked us. Mom loved Feliciano. They forgot about me. Or they ignored me. They completely forgot about Marcello unless he was crying. Didn't matter, since Feliciano would still have gotten the most loved. I only had one friend, and that was an old teddy bear my mom gave me when I was two, before Feli was born. (We were born in the same Day and Month, but not the same year.) I think I still have him. I used to call him Pomodoro. So when our parents were running low on cash, they decided to just leave us with Nonno. They gave Nonno Marcello first, since they thought he was so troublesome and didn't have time to take care of a baby.

Those fucking assholes. Sometimes I wonder why people would have kids if they weren't even going to take care of them.

But anyways. Whoops, dinner's ready.

After Dinner

Mio Dio, Feliciano cooked a fucking truck of pasta! He's still eating in his room. It's right next to mine, I could hear him just fucking scarfing that shit down his throat like it was nothing. Anyways, where the hell was I last time? I lost track of my train of thought. Fuck.

After Thinking

Fuck it, never mind. I don't remember what I was going to write. Well, whatever, I guess that just leaves me time and space to practice my writing skills. (I secretly motherfucking love writing, almost as much as I love cooking. And that's saying something coming from me.)

[[Lovino's Writing]]]

Pitter-patter. Pitter-patter.

Soft drops of rain fell upon the glass window, eyes staring at it like it was diamonds or the world's prettiest object. Those gazel-green eyes belonged to a boy. The boy often wondered why the sky would turn all dark and just start crying.

Sometimes, he does that too. He would feel 'dark', or negative, and he would end up with rain streaking down his face. And sometimes, he even wept with the rain.

But those were only when his Mama, Papa, and fratello were asleep or away. He didn't want anyone to see those glossy, diamond tears streaking down his face. He doubted anyone would notice, anyway.

... Oh my fuck I caught writer's block. Oh well.

The fuck should I do now? It's around 8 P.M.-ish. Maybe I could read a book.

After Checking

Ah shit. I forgot the old man hardly reads. Now what..?

Maybe I could practice my cooking skills. Wait, never mind, I just got an idea for writing.

[[Lovino's Writing]]]

The little boy with a dark(ish) shade of auburn hair (with a weird curl) and hazel-green eyes tugged consistently on a taller male's shirt, trying to get him to acknowledge the little boy. When the taller male finally acknowledged the little boy's presence, hazel-green eyes seemed to widen with sparks. "Mister, mister!" The little boy called out. "How do you make friends?"

The taller male was quite surprised by the question. But then, he noticed that they looked a lot alike. He kneeled down, eye-level with the kid, and said, "Listen kid, there are two types of people. There are those who could make friends with just one simple, bright smile. Like your fratello. But then, there's me and you."

Without hesitation, the kid interrupted him, asking, "I can't make friends?"

The tall male patted the little child's head lightly, careful to avoid the curl. "I don't know. Hopefully. Maybe one day we'll find our happy ending. All I know is that that happy ending isn't going to come until a very long time. Maybe never."

And with that, he stood up and walked away. The little boy followed behind, and soon they were gone.

That was definitely not based off of my past and present life. Nope. Definitely not.

.. Shut the hell up.

ANY-MOTHER-FUCKING-WAYS, I just realized that I haven't watered my tomato plants all day and it's, like, 8:36. Nonno wants us in bed by 10:00. My tomato garden is larger than a regular fucking garden. I wonder if I can make it.

Later

Fucking hell Nonno gave me a heart attack while I was watering my tomatoes. Like, he literally popped out of a random bush in my huge-ass garden and was eating one of my precious pomodoro and I was holding the hose. So. Y'know. I 'accidentally' splashed him with water. He was soaking wet after though, and clearly not amused. He says he might get a cold or something. Fuck I might be in trouble. Oh well.

Later

Feliciano just bursted in my room with Marcello and declared we were going to watch the fucking movie UP. Like hell I would.

More Later

... Okay, they got me into watching it. I swear to God they are both the fucking masters of the famous Puppy-dog eye technique.

"We could teach you!" They chorused. They both read my journal thingy.

"The fuck are you guys doing reading this?" I asked.

"We wanted to, since you never tell us what's going on in your mind anyways." The twerp Marcello said.

"That's because it's motherfucking private maybe?" I just said matter-of-factly.

Ah fuck. Feliciano's going through my CD's now.

More Later (Again)

So, we just finished the part where the chick named Elly/Ellie dies. Goddamit, my pillows are going to be fucking soaked until morning.

"They were so young and in love!" cried Feliciano.

I looked at him strangely. They weren't that young. But hey, they were the experts in love, I guess.

"Lovino! How could you just write in your journal while in the funeral?! Have some respect will you!" Marcello scolded me. Oh the fucker did not just say that. Before I could strangle him, Feliciano told both of us to shut up, since we were ruining the movie.

Yeah, it might be a shocker to some people to see li'l adorable as fuck Feliciano tell us to shut up, but when he tells you to shut up, you better motherfucking shut the hell up or he will literally shove the nearest object in your mouth. Me and Marcello speak from experience. I had to fucking taste a pillow for fuck's sake. That's been cried and sat on. Ew. Marcello had to taste a fucking pair of old nasty-ass socks though. So he got it worse.

"It's time to go to bed kiddos!" Nonno boomed, suddenly bursting into my room. Sometimes I wonder if my family's ever tried knocking before. I hardly doubt right now.

Well, anyways, got to hit the hay. That sounds weird coming from me. Buonanotte.

The Next Day

Good-fucking-morning motherfucking journal,

Why the fuck am I Good morning-ing a journal?

Don't fucking ask, I'm in a good-ish mood. Yes I'm a morning person.

Now, I know most people aren't morning persons, but I am. And that's because in the morning, I just woke up and nobody is awake yet. Which means nobody's come to ruin my day.

Yet.

Well, anyways.

What the fuck should I do right now? I just woke up and nobody's awake yet (yay).

It's 7:56. Why the fuck am I up at 7:56 during the Summer Holiday? That's just absurd. And stupid. Maybe I should go back to sleep.

Later

Yeah no. Going back to sleep did not work.

Maybe I should water my huge-ass tomato garden. I don't really want to forget and end up watering at night again, since last time I had a near heart-attack. And it ain't like anybody's gonna see me watering a tomato garden during early in the morning.

Much later

That was weird. Um.

So, I was watering my pomodoro giardino prezioso when I spot this fucking stranger staring at one of my tomato baby. (Shut the fuck up, all the tomatoes in my garden are my babies.)

He had chocolatey brown curls and bright emerald eyes (I did not check him out, dammit! Shut the hell up!). He looked like he was out on a walk until he spotted my garden. He was probably awed by how large my tomato garden was. Of course, I am prideful of this baby, so why the hell would he not be awed by my garden?

But anyways. The guy had been staring at some of my tomatoes for minutes now and it's really weird. Since it was still early (somewhere around 8:00-ish) and nobody was awake yet, I decided to approach the weirdo.

"Hey," I called out, "Who the fuck're you?"

He turned to look at who called out to him, and then smiled brightly to me.

"Hola~!" He, uh, greeted, I guess.

Ugh, I did not want to start a conversation with strangers this early in the morning. But I guess I had it coming, I was the one that called out to him.

I didn't greet back. Who just randomly greets a stranger at 8:12 A.M.? No one, that's who. Unless you want to be friends with that stranger, of course. But I didn't want to make friends right now.

"I'll ask again, bastardo, who the fuck're you?" He had it coming. I mean, nobody just stares at my tomatoes. They're valuable. Prezioso. My tomatoes.

The stranger still kept his smile, but he did back away a few steps. I had the hose, I could just attack him with it anytime I wanted, and he seemed to notice too.

"I'm Antonio Fernandez Carriedo, and I couldn't help but be amazed at all these tomatoes! D'you grow them yourself?" He asked.

Whoopdydoo, conversation with strangers. Note the sarcasm in that sentence?

"Si, I do grow them myself. What of it?" I asked.

"Well, it's really cool and well taken care of, I was just wondering who took care of it. And by the looks of all these tomatoes, you did a great job!"

Whoa, I was complimented by a stranger. How many times has that happened before? Not once in my life. Usually strangers would think I'm rude and make spiteful comments, so this is new. What's next, he's going to try to befriend me? That'd be a first.

"What's your name?"

I was not prepared for such a stupid question. And such a coincidental stupid question.

Was the guy a mind reader or some shit? Whatever.

"Why should I give you my name?" I ask. 'Answer a stupid question with another question', I thought to myself. 'Well, more like a snappy come-back.'

The guy- Antonio - just gave me this big bright smile and says something stupid like, "Well, you know my name so I should know yours. It'd only be fair, no?"

Only then did I realize his accent. Maybe he's from Spain. I dunno, I was just taking a random guess. (Don't look at me like that, I wasn't paying attention to the fact that he greeted me in Spanish!)

But anyways, I scowled at him for his (somewhat) witty remark. Only to be fair, I answered, "Lovino Vargas."

Antonio's smile seemed to increase, if that was possible. He kinda reminded me of Feli. Then he did something I didn't think he would do. He stretched out his arm and held out his hand, waiting for me to shake it. "Hola Lovino, I'm Antonio. Nice to meet you!" he said.

I would have usually splashed anyone who said that to me, especially a stranger, and I'd be lying if I wrote I did, but I didn't. Instead I slowly and hesitantly shook his hand with mine, but I didn't say anything.

Just then I heard Nonno call me from inside the house, telling me that breakfast was ready (I wasn't surprised they would know I was here without coming outside). I walked away from Antonio without saying a word, but I heard him say, "Adios, Lovino!", before I came inside.

So yeah. That happened not too long ago.

Later

So Feliciano and Marcello decided to bug me about who that stranger was. And Marcello just had to make it awkward by saying he had a nice ass.

"What?" He asked. We were all looking at him. "It's true!"

"Whatever. Anyways, who was he? A friend? Boyfriend?" Feliciano asked. Right then and there Nonno butted in and yelled something like, "WHAT?! Lovino Romano Vargas, if he is your boyfriend and you told me nothing about it, ohoho, you better watch out! I will come and get you."

I groaned in annoyance. "He is not my boyfriend. We just met! I barely know the guy and there you guys are already jumping to conclusions. What kind of 'we just met' don't you three understand?!"

They decided to drop it, but kept on giving me side glances. This was going to be a long, long breakfast. I could tell.

Later

Okay, I survived breakfast without further interrogation. Great. My family is so weird sometimes, they just immediately jump to conclusions. This wasn't the first time they thought a stranger was my girlfriend/boyfriend, but it gets extremely annoying.

Anyways, how should I spend the rest of my day? It's around 9:13, I have thirteen hours left until I go to bed. Feliciano is out getting groceries, Marcello might be at the town flirting with the local girls, and fuck if I know what Nonno's doing.

Maybe I should go for a walk.

After the Walk

So, the walk wasn't too bad. I flirted a little bit with pretty ladies, I ate some of my tomatoes, and I bumped into the stranger again. I forgot his name, I think it started with an A.

A.. Antonio maybe?

Well anyways, I met up with him again, and he started a conversation with me. I didn't feel like making any friends today (lies), so I gave short but clear answers. At one point, we were talking about books and which books we really enjoyed. I told him, "Runaway by Wendelin Van Draanen, Jeremy Fink and The Meaning of Life, and The Mysterious Benedict Society by Trenton Lee Stewart. I read those books in fourth and fifth grade, and loved them." I accidentally let that last part slip, and he looked at me in surprise.

"Wow Lovino! You remembered them all the way from fourth and fifth grade?! You have excellent memory skills, then!" He complimented. I mumbled a little 'Thanks.' I told him a little bit of it, and said that the first question of the first test was,

"The territories of the Naxcivan Autonomous Republic and the Nagorno-Karabakh are disputed by what countries?"

"Of course, like any kid, I was like, 'Whoa what the fuck?'. But then Reynie - the first guy I told you about- figured out a pattern. Each question was connected to another. For example , on question twenty-one, it read: 'After the fall of the Russian Empire, when a failed attempt to create a Transcaucasian Republic with Georgia and Armenia led to the creation of Azerbaijan, put parenthesis' here, which currently disputes with Armenia the territories of the Naxcivan Autonomous Republic and the Nagorno-Karabakh region, from what key powers did Azerbaijan—"Antonio interrupted me, but I didn't mind since it stopped there.

"But that just gave out the answer to question one, about the territores of the Naxcivan Autonomour Republic and the Nagorno-Karabakh, right?" he asked, and I looked at him astounded. I don't use that word a lot, and I hardly smile, so for me to be astounded, you must have done something incredibly stupid or incredibly nice, or a mixture of both. I didn't figure that out until the author pointed it out by saying Reynie got it. And I thought that by the questions he asked, he might've been stupid!

"What?" he asked.

"Nothing, it's just that I didn't get that until the author pointed it out. I'm surprised you caught the pattern that quickly," I replied. He then offered if I would like to go to a cafe with him, since he was tired from standing. I was too, so I accepted the offer, and we continued our talk.

"..And then the second question 'wanted to know where the common vetch originated and to what family it belonged to.' Yep. I remembered it word from word. But get this, the twenty-second question said, 'Despite having originated in Europe, the vice known as the common vetch, (a member of the pea family) is widely...' and that was the answer to the second question. Reynie noticed that it happened in vice-versa, and was the only one to accomplish the test.

"The second kid, Sticky Washington," he held a little chuckle, "actual name George Washington, actually knew all the answers to the question. Said that everything he read would stick in his head. Genius kid, I tell you. He didn't know it was a puzzle, though, and he got lucky since he ran out of time and had three questions left and just randomly circled any. Reynie said they'd make a good team. I remember that his parents were a pair of assholes. Once they found out how genius he was, they used him. And for what? Money. They made him go to a bunch of fucking quiz competitions and didn't even care about the way he felt about them. They didn't care. And they had the fucking nerve to say that if Sticky cared, he would try harder and harder to win, since only by winning would he be bringing wealth and happiness to the family. I hated his parents with a passion," I commented. Because he was used and unloved by them, like I was.

"And then this third kid, a chick named Kate Wetherall, came in the picture. She was an orphan, lost both her parents. Her mom died, and her dad.." I hesitated a little bit, but I continued. "..Left her when she was two, I think. She ran away from the orphanage a couple times, and decided to live in a circus. Until she took the tests, that is. She carried a bucket around with her everywhere she went. I remember she had a Swiss Army knife, a flashlight, rope, a pen light, a bottle of extra-strength glue, a bag of marbles, a slingshot, a spook of clear fishing twin, one pencil and one eraser, a kaleidoscope, and a horse-shoe magnet. I think she had more, I don't remember. And then later on, in the fourth chapter, you'll meet Constance. She had sass, and I liked that..."

I told him nearly everything about The Mysterious Benedict Society. Luckily I know that book's somewhere at Nonno's house, since I bought it last year when I found it at a bookshop. I told him I could lend it to him, he just had to give it back to me after reading all of it.

Then I went home.

Nothing much happened at home. I reread The Mysterious Benedict Society and enjoyed it, like always. Those kids were smart as fuck, I tell you. And I liked Mr. Benedict. A nice and badass man.

More Later

For the rest of the day, I was either cooking random meals, reading, or writing something. I really enjoyed this one piece of writing.

[[[Lovino's Writing]]]

Lies. They were all lies. His parents had said that they loved him, but in all reality, they didn't. They used him. They ignored him when he just wanted a little bit of recognition. They didn't care. Not one single bit. But he was okay. He would always tell himself he was okay. If he had to tell the truth, he would say he was not okay.

He loved his parents, so why didn't they love him back? Had he done something wrong? If he did, he apologized. He always did. Had he made mama or papa angry? If he did, he said sorry. Do they not love him? Maybe. Maybe that was the reason why. They loved his little brother a lot better.

"Oi," he said to his brother, who was only one. He poked his cheek. "What did you do to mama and papa? They don't like me anymore. Papa doesn't seem to like you either, but mama loves you a lot, and they don't like me at all.. What did you do? How come they love you more than me? I thought I was special, too."

His little brother couldn't really understand him, so he smiled at Big Brother. Big brother was strong, and smart, and cared for him too. But big brother looked sad. Why was big brother sad? He didn't know. He couldn't understand. He was only one year old.

The bigger brother, who was three, pouted. Little brother smiled, but didn't answer. Did little brother not like him too? But he played with him, and fed him when mama asked him to. And he was little. Maybe he couldn't understand.

Mama came back, and she immediately hugged little brother. She didn't notice him again. Papa came home later, but didn't say or do anything to either children. However, papa finally talked to him again and said, "Hey little champ, d'you wanna come with me to the park?"

"Si!" The three years old beamed. Papa hardly spent time with mama and little brother, so he felt special when papa asked him.

He thought it would be fun, to be with papa. But papa hardly played with him. He kept on chatting with pretty ladies. He didn't take notice of him until he almost went him without him.

Later, when he grew up, he finally noticed that he was being used. He was being used by Papa to go to the park and hit on women. Women who were not mama.

Papa came home later and later, and once, mama and papa had a very big argument. Papa slapped mama, and mama kept on yelling. There was so much yelling...

He tried to stop it. He tried to stop the fighting, because it scared little brother, and it scared him. He didn't like it when mama and papa were like that to each other. They were being mean to each other, and they were hurting one another.

He came in the middle of both of them, and cried, "Stop! Mama, papa, please stop!"

Papa was going to hit him with a beer bottle, but little brother crawled to big brother's side and got hit instead. Little brother was only two back then, and even though he was only four, he knew that something was going to go wrong with little brother. Mama immediately stopped screaming at papa, but papa kept on hitting her. Mama came in front of her two boys, and was getting extremely hurt by papa. He didn't like it. Not one bit.

Trying to help mama, big brother came infront of her and held out his arms as wide as he could to protect her as best as he can. But it only ended up with papa making a long scar that started above big brother's eye brow and all the way down his cheek, a close to his nose. Mama had had enough, and ran with her two precious babies to the hospital.

Later, the hospital said that little brother would have head problems later in his life, and that big brother would be okay, but he would have a long ugly scar that wouldn't fade away for as long as he lived. Mama was relieved, and nearly cried tears of joy to hear that little brother was going to be okay. She didn't think of big brother. She never thought of big brother.

End of that. It was sad, sure, but I like how I wrote it. Shit, there are tear stains on the paper now. I'll write more tomorrow, bye.

So that's the first chapter! I hope you guys liked it as much as I liked writing it! I honestly did read all the books that Lovino said he read, and they seriously are some of my favorites. I never got to finish The Mysterious Benedict Society fifth grade though, and I only recently borrowed it in my school's library ;u; I missed it a lot, and I forgot a lot of things, but in just one day I got to read 125 pages! :'D That's a lot to me, since I don't fancy reading books, but damn this thing's interesting! Runaway was sadly awesome, and Jeremy Fink and The Meaning of Life was a wonderful read. I recommend all three! If any of the characters seem OOC, please inform me as soon as you can! And the translations below this author's note was from google translate, and I do not trust that little piece of shit that much. SO, if any of them are wrong, feel free to correct me and tell me what the right ones are either reviews or PMs! Grazie! And by the way, this is the longest thing I've EVER written! Hopefully there will be longer chapters later on.

Pomodoro - Italian - Tomato

Nonno - Italian -Grandfather

Fratello - Italian - Brother

pomodoro giardino prezioso - Italian - Precious tomato Garden

Si - Italian - Yes

I think that's all the things that need to be translated. Well, anyways, see you guys in the second chapter! Review please! I want to know if I honestly should or should not continue this ;u;

-Vanilla/Dreamer~