A/N: ohhhkay so this is my first story. Dont be too hard on me though constructive criticism is always welcome.
Disclaimer: I do not own hetalia D=
IMPORTANT!:
This is the time during the italian wars when most european powers fought each other for the custody of italy, which was a prospering country that time. Spain was one of the powers fighting for italy but it seems spain specifically fought for northern and central italy.
The Spaniard, after long years of fighting and hardship return to his home land. He runs, ignoring the heavy armor decorating his body in anticipation of seeing his cherished love. He had been worrying about him for the past years after hearing how many nations had tried to steal him but the Spaniard was too busy to actually check up on him. Even so, no day or night passed without the explosive romano on his mind.
He finally arrives at his former home and after searching the spacious house he finally spots the Italian. But something is wrong. The fact that said Italian was packing his belongings and in a corner were torn up photographs of once happy days.
He hides and watches the southern counterpart of Italy, follows him as he leaves the room carrying a single satchel filled with few belongings, leaving the torn up photos.
"Lovino…" He gently calls the nations true name and the mentioned man stops, hand perched on the brass doorknob, he turns to look at the Spaniard looking at him with something akin to panic in those emerald eyes.
T he Spaniard draws near and he notices that there is fear, mistrust and hatred in those once vibrantly cinnamon eyes.
"…Lovino?" He reaches a hand to touch the italian, but his hand is slapped away accompanied by a flinch. "D-don't t-t-touch me"
His heart feels as if it had been ripped in a million different pieces, again he wonders why. "Believe it or not, you bastard. Other people suffered too, while you were away…You have no idea…You stupid idiot… You don't know how much it hurts to be thrown away or to be sacrificed and passed around as if you were a mere thing!... I hope what you fought for was a good reason… It must have been more important than me..." The italian says with a bitter smile "Who am i kidding? I was never important to you, wasnt I?" He is speechless, wanting to desperately deny what the other said and tears start forming in those brown eyes of Romano and he wants nothing more than to brush them away.
The Italian, taking a deep and shuddering breath before turning his back and leaving the Spaniard behind. He opens the door and walks away, not sparing a single glance back to the one who had once deemed himself his "boss".
Antonio watched as his ex-charge walks away, shoulders slumped, steps faltering and then he finally notices something, red welt marks covering those beautiful arms, bruises and scars marring his tender flesh. He wondered with a bitter feeling of regret how many times Romano wanted to be saved or how much suffering he had endured while Spain was away fighting.
The figure of the one he finally realized he loves most gradually grew farther and farther away until there was nothing left but a Spaniard fallen on his knees with a blank and self-loathing smile on his face.
Poland: Reviews are like totally welcome! cuz' they, like, make the authoress majorly like happy! *wink*
A/N: No more listening to sad songs for me hahaha. Wow this is depressing but if you guys want, i can make a sequel with a happy ending. (Even if it is supposed to be a ONESHOT)
PS. I didnt notice how short it was Dx
PPS. Meh, whatever.