I've really wanted to redo this one for a while. While it is based on something personal, I feel like the original story wasn't very good as a fanfiction. I feel like this one keeps elements of the last story, but has it's own tale to tell as well.
Romano entered his home, shutting and locking the door behind him. He felt strange, like his legs were cold and numb, but they had also never been stronger. His stomach twisted and made him nauseous, but he didn't feel sick. His hands shook and he was sweating, but he was so calm. Coming to the decision to end his life had eased all of his problems in a way he hadn't known was possible.
Yes, he was afraid, who wasn't of death, yet at the same time, the idea was filled with a welcoming warmth. He was almost excited.
He moved further into the house, looking at everything with a new site. Had everything always been so bright? He'd only seen it as dull and dark before. He stopped to give his cat a few light pets, then continued into the kitchen. From the medicine cabinet he look a bottle of benadryl. He popped the cap off and stared down at the little pink pills.
He had been using them to help him sleep. He hadn't wanted to waste a doctor's time on him. It wasn't recommended to use benadryl to sleep, but what did he care? If it worked, it worked. It knocked him out quickly and he didn't lay awake thinking. With a deep breath, he dumped out a handful. Would it be enough? He supposed he would find out soon enough.
He popped them all into his mouth and swallowed, taking a drink from the faucet to get them all down. He was shaking harder now that the deed was actually done. No turning back now. He leaned against the counter, looking around the kitchen, wondering how he was about to feel.
Would it hurt? Or would he just be able to die peacefully in his sleep? ... How would his brother feel, coming home and finding him?
He felt his breath shorten at the thought of forcing his sibling to see him dead on the floor. The least he could do would be to die in a room Veneziano never had to go into.
Making the short trip down the hall to his room, he felt relieved to enter the dark space. His curtain was pulled tightly shut, no sunlight in the room. He would go into his bathroom for his final moments. Veneziano never had a reason to come in.
He wandered around the room, slowly picking things up and putting them away. If he had learned one thing in his long life, he wanted everyone to know he had figured out cleaning at the very least.
As the minutes passed, his vision began to blur and a dull ringing started in his ears. He felt his mouth dry up and a fever made him sweat heavily and his face flushed. He hadn't realized how weak he was, or how much harder he was shaking, until he tried to pick up a book and couldn't.
He was confused, and for a moment couldn't remember why this was all happening. Panicking, he stumbled into the bathroom and locked the door behind him, collapsing on the floor beside the bathtub. He pulled his phone from his pocket, tracing the design to unlock it and clumsily opening his messenger. He couldn't see any longer and clicked the conversation that happened to be at the top.
'O nred hekop' he typed, then hit send. He was vaguely curious who he had just messaged and what it looked like, but he was to tired to check. He dropped his phone and he forced himself back up onto his knees. He reached into the shower and felt around until his hand closed around the handle of his razor. He somehow managed to pop one of the blades out, and in a desperate attempt to get himself to wake up and focus, he slashed his left arm. His heart sped up when he didn't feel the pain at all, and he gave a few more cuts, then switched to his other arm and tried again.
Why couldn't he wake up? What was happening? What had he done?
Finally, he could stay awake no longer. His eye lids grew to heavy, and they fell, and Romano's body went limp as his consciousness slipped away into darkness.
Meanwhile, the rest of the nations were gathering their things to return home. They were together in Italy for a world meeting, and some were taking a long while to socialize with one another.
Canada was one of those nations, speaking lightly with America and Cuba, who where on much better terms thanks to his brother's old boss. He felt his phone buzz in his pocket, a curious thing to happen as he only got messages from a few people ever.
Excusing himself politely, he turned away to check his message. 'Romano? Maybe he forgot something. He did leave in a hurry,' he thought to himself, swiping his phone to unlock it and opening the message. He stared at it in confusion, trying to decipher what the Italian had sent him.
"Oh... nnn... red he... cop?" he said out loud, trying to maybe sound out the strange message. He pressed the chat box, looking at the keyboard to see if he couldn't get a hint from that.
"Let's see... 'O' is next to 'I' and 'P'... I guess he meant to write 'I' not 'O'. N-red... 'N' is by 'B' and 'M'... the other letters... I can only make 'need' from them. Now for hekop... maybe... 'help'? 'I need help'? Hmm." He texted back, saying, 'You need help? Whats wrong?'
He stared at his phone for a few minutes, but felt strangely unsettled. He tried to call next, and was very worried when it went to voice mail. He looked around the room, and saw Spain was still there, gathering up Romano's forgotten things. He made his way over quickly.
"Spain? I think something is wrong with Romano," he said, tapping the other's shoulder to get his attention. "He just sent me a text that said he needed help. I texted him back but he didn't respond, and he didn't answer my call. I think you should check on him."
Spain blinked at him for a moment, then nodded. He picked up his bag and Romano's things then left for the nation's home.
It wasn't far between the convention center and the house, and Spain made it there in a few minutes. He approached the front door and knocked, hoping everything was alright. He heard no sound inside and grew worried. He took the key Romano had given him from his pocket and unlocked the door, entering the house.
He waited in the entry way, and called out, "Romano? Are you here? Is everything okay?" When he got no answer, he moved further into the house.
Spain went into the kitchen, and noticed immediately the bottle on the counter. He walked over, picking it up and seeing what it was. Most of the pills were gone. He felt panic beginning to set in. "Romano?" he yelled again.
He became aware then of soft mews and a scratching sound. He followed the noise down the hall to Romano's room. The door was ajar, and he went in, finding Gio, Romano's cat, whimpering at the bathroom door, scratching at it lightly.
The nation then realized the metallic scent of blood had filled the room. He ran to the door, banging on it heavily.
"Romano! ROMANO! Open the door! Romano!" When he received no answer, he rammed into it over and over until it splintered under him.
He surged into the room, taking in the site of Romano laying unconscious in a pool of his blood. He took the knowledge in, but pushed it from his thoughts. He could freak out about this later; Romano needed help right now.
He opened the cabinet, pulling out gauze and quickly wrapping up Romano's arms. Once that was done, he scooped him gently into his arms, and rushed from the house, running as fast as he could to the nearest hospital.
They went into the ER, and the Italian was taken away. A nurse came out to speak with the Spaniard, getting Romano's medical information and asking if he knew what had happened.
"No, I don't know what happened. I can make an assumption, but I don't want to think that's what he's really done. I don't know if it was an accident or not," he told her.
"Well, once he's out of surgery, I'll let you know his room number. You can go up then, but we will be needing to keep him for observation until he can answer this question. It's very important for us to know what happened," she explained, and he nodded in understanding.
When she left, he took out his phone and called Veneziano, letting him know what had happened. The Italian freaked out, beginning to cry and saying he would be there soon.
Spain hung up and what seemed like seconds later, Veneziano skidded into the waiting room. Spain stared at him in surprise, then waved him over. "He isn't out yet. He just went in actually. How did you get here so fast?" he asked as the other sat down beside him.
"I ran," he answered, slumping down in the seat. "I can't believe this..."
"I know. I didn't... I didn't even know he felt like this. B-But maybe this is just a misunderstanding. Maybe it isn't what we think it is," Spain said, trying to be optimistic.
Veneziano nodded, wanting to believe this as well. He ran a hand down his face, letting out a heavy sigh. He wanted to believe, but...
They sat together in silence for about an hour, then the nurse approached and told them he was out of surgery. "He lost a lot of blood, but we've given him four transfusions, and pumped his stomach. Now he's on an IV of dopamine, and when he wakes up which should be about any minute, he'll be given pills of activated charcoal that will help soak up any remaining drug in his system. We'll keep him over night, then tomorrow have a therapist come and talk to him to see if he can go home or will need further treatment."
The two thanked her, and she lead them up to Romano's room, leaving them alone once more. Spain let Veneziano go in first, waiting outside.
When he came back out, the Italian said, "He's still asleep. I'm going to go to the cafeteria and get some coffee. Would you like some?"
"No, Vene, thanks. Take your time, you know we aren't going anywhere," he replied, entering the hospital room once the younger man had gone.
He looked at the bed, taking in the Italian's state. He was pale, his arms wrapped tightly and securely in bandages, and an IV was in his left arm, the clear liquid in the bag slowly feeding into his body. Spain was surprised, he didn't look nearly as bad as he had when he'd found him before, though that was likely due to the blood that had been everywhere.
He sat down in the chair beside the bed, gently taking the Italian's right hand and squeezing it gently. "Roma..." he murmured. In response, he felt the other twitch slightly, and he watched him wake, blinking up at him. A slight smile formed on his face, and he greeted him.
"Hey, Spain... What's up?" he slurred.
Realizing the dopamine had put Romano slightly out of it, he decided to ask the important question, not knowing if Romano would give him a real answer if he asked when more aware.
"Romano, did you... did you try to kill yourself?" he asked, his voice low. He wouldn't get angry, he promised himself. If he had, the last thing that would be useful would be anger.
"Yep. I did," Romano confirmed. "I took a bunch of pills. I don't really remember what happened, but it looks like I failed. Can't even die correctly, am I right?" He laughed, but it was hollow sounding, and Spain couldn't help but make a face.
"Roma, you messaged Canada. You told him you needed help. When he couldn't get a hold of you, he told me and I came to check on you. You were... in your bathroom. There was blood everywhere. You sliced up your arms pretty bad."
"Hm. So I did," was the response, Romano looking at his arms with vague curiosity. "I wonder why I did that. I don't like to do it this way."
Spain felt his breath catch. "'This way'?"
The Italian nodded. "Yeah, usually I give myself little burns on my stomach. I'll purposefully splash boiling water on myself. Hit myself. I've never done this before though. I don't think-" He was cut off as Spain suddenly hugged him, the larger nation holding him as tight as he could without hurting him, tears dripping down his face.
"Oh, Roma... I'm sorry. I'm so so sorry. I wasn't there for you when you needed," he said, feeling guilt drilling into him.
"Nah, don't feel bad. I didn't want you to know. I didn't want anyone to know I had to do this to feel better about myself." Romano laughed again. "Cat's out of the bag now though. You're probably going to tell everyone. Or Vene, then he'll tell everyone."
"W-What? No, no I won't tell anyone. Not even Veneziano if you don't want me to," Spain promised quickly.
"Yeah, okay. You can't tell anyone! Promise?"
"Promise."
"Good." Romano laid his head back and sighed. "I feel horrible."
"I'm sure. They had to pump your stomach and give you transfusions. Oh, actually, I need to get you a pill to take. It's charcoal to get anything else in your system out. It should help with the dopamine too," Spain said, standing and going to the door. A nurse was passing by, and he told her what he needed and she nodded, leaving and returning quickly with a few capsules.
"One every half hour till gone," she instructed, then carried on.
Spain thanked her then went back into the room. "She gave me five pills." There was a cup of water on the bedside table and he picked it up. "Here, put some water in your mouth and I'll drop the pill in so you can swallow."
The pair worked together and Romano took one of the pills. "Thanks." He turned his head away from the other, looking towards the wall. He was already beginning to come back down, and his terrible feelings of hatred and disgust were creeping back. Couldn't even kill himself right. God, he was so pathetic. And now he was doing exactly what he had wanted to avoid: waste doctors' time and resources on him.
He didn't notice he was crying until Spain wiped away his tears and held his hand. "Roma, why did you do this? Why do you want to die?"
"Because... I hate myself. I hate who I am. I hate how I act. I hate everything about me. I don't want to exist anymore. I wish you hadn't found me," he whispered, his voice cracking with sadness.
"Well, I don't know what I can do about any of that," Spain began, "but I know one thing."
"What's that?"
"I know that I love you anyway, regardless of all that."
The Italian turned to look at him, clearly surprised. "What?"
Spain nodded. "Yeah. I love you, Romano. I have for a long, long time. I'm so sorry I haven't told you until now, but it's true."
Romano sighed and rolled his eyes. "Yeah, sure. You don't have to lie to make me feel better. Evidently, I can't end my life anymore than I can make it better. I won't be here after I'm released again. I won't try to kill myself."
"No, Romano, I'm serious. I love you," Spain said, grabbing his hand and pulling his attention back. "I love you from the bottom of my soul all the way through my heart. I love you more than the sun loves warmth, more than the ocean does water, more than the moon loves the tides. Romano... Lovino, I love you with all of my being, every fiber of my body, every shred of my soul. I love you, and I want to be with you until I die, for as many years as that will be, and longer if I can."
Romano's eyes had widened slightly at the use of his name, something the Spaniard didn't do often. "Spain... You..." He bit his lip. "Are you sure? You really love someone as terrible and as damaged as me? I'm worthless and useless. I can't do anything right, and-!"
Spain put his hand over the other's mouth, meeting his eyes with a fiery passion. "I'm sure. As sure as the sun will rise, I know I love you, Lovino."
Romano's eyes watered and he began to cry, heavier than the last time, hugging the nation as best he could. "Antonio..." he sniffled. "I... I love you, too."
Spain smiled brightly. "I'm going to help you. However you need me too. I'll always be around when you need me, and even if you don't." He wiped his tears away and kissed Romano's forehead. "I'm with you now, and I will always protect you."
The next day, Romano was released to go home, having convinced the therapist what had happened was a mistake. "I told him I kept forgetting that I had taken it already and that's how I overdosed, and we both decided the cuts were from me trying to wake myself up. I don't think he fully believed me, but it was enough to let me go," Romano explained as his new boyfriend drove him home. His arms were wrapped in bandages still, and would be for a while yet.
"That's good," Spain said. "Oh, I need to warn you, some people have stopped by to see you, since Veneziano told them partially what happened."
Romano felt his stomach drop and he glanced over. "What do you mean 'partially'? What did he tell them? Who did he tell?"
"I think he said he told them you had a slight run in with one of your mob families," the Spaniard answered. "But don't worry. It's just Belgium, Netherlands, and Canada. Veneziano knows you wouldn't want a bunch of people over."
The Italian hummed softly and nodded, looking out his window at the passing scenery. Soon, they arrived back, and they got out of the car, heading to the door.
Belgium threw the door open just as Romano stepped onto the porch, and the next thing he knew, he was being compressed in a tight hug, Belgium asking him how he was feeling and if he was alright. He was rescued by Netherlands, who put a hand on his sister's shoulder and gently pulled her back. He looked at Romano, who was taking deep breaths to expand his lungs again and said, "I'm glad you're alright. We were worried about you."
"Thanks," Romano murmured in embarrassment, hurrying into the house. Spain followed, and the small group went into the living room where Canada and Veneziano where waiting. Veneziano leapt up, running to his brother and hugging him tightly, though not as tight as Belgium had.
"I'm so glad you're home! How do you feel? Better? Do your arms hurt?" he questioned worriedly.
"I-I'm fine, Vene, really. Don't worry about it," he answered, flushing brightly.
Canada approached next, smiling softly at him. "Welcome home, Romano. I'm glad they let you out today."
"Yeah, me too." The Italian sat down on the couch, and his cat jumped into his lap. Gio looked up at him indignantly and hissed, batting his chest a few times with his paws, then curling up on his lap and laying there, refusing to move.
Romano looked around him as he pet the cat, his eyes tracing over his best friend, his brother, his two other friends, and finally coming to rest on Spain. Thinks had changed so rapidly in the last 24 hours. This time the other day he was planning his suicide. Today, he was surrounded by loving friends and family. He felt tears coming but forced them back. He'd cried enough, he didn't want to now.
He was filled with happiness. He didn't want to die anymore. He wanted to live, live on with Spain, his brother, his friends. The future didn't look so dark anymore.
Rather, it had never been so bright.