Spain paced impatiently around the spacious, elaborately decorated dining room in his house. This was the night he had invited his tomato, Romano, to have dinner with him. This was the night he planned to propose. He would've invited the love of his life to eat at a fancy restaurant, but he hoped that a homemade meal that was as good as what the restaurant served would be more romantic. He was worried, though. Should he have made the reservation instead of the food? What if Romano didn't like it? He tugged anxiously at the collar of his tuxedo. What if Romano thought it was silly? One mistake and all of his hopes would be shattered.

Spain jumped when the doorbell rang, startled from his thoughts, and dashed to open the door and welcome his guest. "Roma! You're here!"

"Of course I'm here, idiot," said Italian muttered with a scowl. He was wearing nice clothes, a dress shirt and dress pants, but nothing especially fancy. "You didn't tell me tonight was dress-up night."

"It's not!" Spain quickly replied. "I just wanted to look nice for you." He was rewarded with a slight pink coloration of Romano's cheeks. "Now, come in! The food's ready."

Spain led Romano to the dining room table and pulled out a chair for him. Romano, however, had other ideas and sat in the chair across the table, where Spain had been planning to sit. He opened his mouth to say so but decided it didn't really matter and closed it, going to the kitchen to serve dinner.

He returned with a platter of langostinos cocidos, boiled prawns, with his doubts nagging at him again. Was this too simple for an appetizer tonight? He pushed the thought down, smiled at Romano, and said, "Enjoy!" as he set the platter down between them, sitting down just after.

Romano showed no hesitation in grabbing one and taking a bite, declaring, "Mmm! This is delicious!" The Italian made what was probably supposed to be an accusing glare, adding, "You've been holding out on me, bastard!"

The Spaniard couldn't help but laugh at Romano's adorably annoyed expression. "Sorry, Roma-toma!"

"And don't call me that!"

"Whatever you say, Roma-toma."

The rest of dinner passed in much the same manner. By the time Spain served his coffee flan, Romano was actually smiling, a fact that delighted Spain. He thought there would be no better time to ask.

"Romano, will you marry me?" he blurted out before he could lose his nerve, producing a ring from his pocket.

"I thought you'd never ask, tomato bastard!"

=^w^=

Germany awkwardly straightened the sleeves of his tuxedo. He had been anxiously awaiting this day, but now it was here, he just wanted it to be over. Maybe that wasn't entirely true, but he was nervous that something would go wrong. No manual had ever taught him how to handle this situation. He just hoped everything would go as planned.

Time seemed to pass in a blur until he and Italy stood at the front of the church with a priest. Germany looked into the crowd and saw familiar, encouraging faces. Japan, Austria, Hungary, Prussia, even Romano, and many others were there for this occasion.

The priest intoned, "Since it is your intention to enter into marriage, join your right hands, and declare your consent before God and his church."

Germany took a deep breath as he clasped Italy's hand in his own. "I, Ludwig Beilschmidt, take you, Feliciano Vargas, to be my husband. I promise to be true to you in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health. I vill love and honor you all the days of my life."

Italy, looking stunning in a white suit, beamed back at him, "I, Feliciano Vargas, take you, Ludwig Beilschmidt, to be my husband. I promise to be true to you in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health. I will love and honor you all the days of my life."

They exchanged rings, barely hearing anything the priest said until, "You may now kiss the groom."

Italy stretched upward, standing on his toes, trying to be as tall as possible, but Germany leaned down regardless. But just as their lips connected...

=^w^=

Germany awoke, arms wrapped tightly around a pillow, staring at the empty half of the king-sized bed. It took him a moment to register what had happened, but then he broke down into sobs, his tears staining the pillow he buried his face in. Italy, the man he loved, was gone, gone forever, and he would never see him again. He screamed into the now-soaking pillow, screamed with all his built-up pain and rage. Why did Italy have to be gone?

=^w^=

Spain wept silently, unable to express his grief in words or sounds. He would never see his tomato again, except in cruel dreams that summoned up the past and made it seem so real, like Romano was still there with him. Never again...

Never again would he be able to love anyone that much. Maybe he would never be able to love again. How could he, when his heart and soul were broken, shattered beyond repair? How could he enjoy anything this world had to offer, after it had stolen his Roma-toma from him?

Here, a little one-shot thing to show you I'm not dead. Sorry it's not the best, but I've been busy and haven't had much time or inspiration for fanfictions lately. I'll try to get more writing done soon, though, since it's almost fall break! Anyway, drop a review please~?