NOTE: HEY! Finally got this up but its not even done! I'm feel like I'm milking this.

WARNING: Um, swearing, talk of suicide, Veneziano beating up Spain again. Rating may go up for later Chapters. Yes I said Chapters as in more than one! I don't own Hetalia, and maybe for good reason.

Time Heals all Wounds

It had been a year since Romano's suicide and not much had changed. Italy still refused to speak to him, which Spain understood. Spain did not expect Italy to forgive him; he did leave his older brother and thus killed Romano; Spain could not even bring himself to. World Meeting were still awkward afterwards, it was obvious no one realized how much they truly cared and would miss Romano until after he was gone. Sometimes when Italy called him a bastard he would catch himself nearly calling him Romano. He only made that mistake once; Italy punched him and left the meeting right in the middle. If looks could have killed he would have died from all the death glares he received that day. Italy acted more and more like his brother, probably from having to handle his declining economy and the Mafia, which had been done mostly by his older brother.

Spain visited Romano's grave regularly, sometimes he and Italy even stood together a few times. Although he hated Spain, they both had loved Romano and mourned together time to time. It was one of those days where their love for the same man brought some kind of peace.

Spain arrived at the cementry, walked the rows of headstones he only stopped when he recognized a figure; Italy. He was standing at his brother's grave, a bouquet of white daisies. Spain had a similar bouquet, he slowly approached the other man and for awhile neither of them said anything.

"What do you think he would say if he was here right now? Think he'd call us stupidos for coming here as often as we do." Italy asked as he laid the flowers by the headstone. Spain was shocked this was the first time Italy had talked to him with shouting or calling him absence names.

"Probably … he'd probably call you stupido and me bastardo." Spain said with a chuckle as he thought about his lover. There was not a day that went by that Spain did not cry about losing the only person he loved.

"Sí, that sounds like him … I'm sorry I still hate you, he was my only family but he could never open up to me. He trusted you, loved you, he needed you and you left."Italy said softly as he looked down at his feet. "I don't think I can forgive you." He added just as softly.

"I can't forgive myself, Veneziano." Spain said never taking his eyes from Romano's name.

"You know you're the only person that still calls me Veneziano … everyone calls me Italy since there is only one person representing Italy, but I'm glad you do." Italy said with a sad smile, it had been the first time in over a year that Spain had seen him smile, at least when the smile had been directed at him.

"I've noticed, Romano told me he hated it when everyone called you Italy and him Romano … he said 'I'm Italy too, damn-it'" Spain said as he tried to imitate Romano's voice. Italy chuckled as he took out a charten of cigarettes, pulled one out and lit it then threw the rest on Romano's grave.

"Sounds like him." He said as he exhaled watching the smoke rise. Italy knelt down in front of his brother's grave and rested a hand on it. "Brought your favorite, hope you don't mind me bumming one off you." Italy said to the grave as if it was Romano.

"I didn't know Romano smoked?" Spain said as he sat down next to Italy. "May I?" Spain asked as he pointed to the box of cigarettes, Italy shrugged and Spain took that as a yes. Italy handed him the lighter as he put one to his lips.

"Yea, he had really cut back, but smoked a lot around the Mafia … I guess he thought you might think it was disgusting or something." Italy said as he took another drag. Again they sat and smoked in silence.

"Sometimes I day dream about how different things would be if someone had gotten there in time … if I had swallowed my pride and gone back to check on him." Spain said as he watched the cigarette burned down.

"I do too … I blame myself for not breaking in or coming sooner … I should have been able to save him." Italy said as he snuffed his cigarette out. "Were you happy without him … with that girl?" Italy asked not looking up at Spain. Spain was shocked at Italy's question and at first was unsure how he was going to answer.

"No … not really, it just kind of happened. I went out for drinks because no one was free, I blacked out and woke up to her … I only kept her around because I missed Romano and my pride would not let me go back and beg." Spain chuckled as the tears he had been keeping in fell. "It seemed so important not to go back but now I wish I would have begged for forgiveness if that meant he still would be alive." He added.

"Yea … I think that's what got him … that you seemed happier with a human woman then you ever were with him." Italy said knowing it was just placing more blame on Spain and knew he blamed himself enough. But really found himself not caring.

"I know … I wish he had known it was all a farce, I could love no one like I love him." Spain sighed. He did not expect Italy say anything or do anything, he was wrong when Italy pushed him on the ground.

"If that was how you felt, why did you leave him? If you loved him so god damn much why not stay and love him?" Italy shouted now standing above Spain.

"I don't know! Because it's easier to run from it then put the effort forth and make it work!" Spain yelled back. "I am weak! I am selfish! I couldn't stand it that I was not spending nearly every waking moment with him, I couldn't do it anymore!" he yelled as he rolled into a ball started crying. Spain's cries got to Italy and that was when he started lashing out at Spain; kicking and punching him where ever he could. After a while Italy tired himself out and gave up on beating Spain, who did nothing to defend himself against the Italian.

Italy was breathing hard as stared down at the bloodied and beaten Spain. He looked at his hands and sighed as he sat down. He had no idea what had come over him, he had not been the same since Romano's death. He reached out and took another cigarette and lit it; Spain did not move his hands from his face until he was sure Italy would not attack him again.

"I'm sorry Spain … I … I don't know what's wrong with me," He said as he wiped his hands off his pants. "I just haven't been the same since I found Romano … it was so strange to see him, so cold with all the life gone out of him." Italy said as he stared at the grave, he would never forget seeing his brother hanging by his neck from the ceiling. "You're lucky … you never did have to see him." He added quietly.

Spain slowly sat up nursing his bruises. He had never thought of it that way. It was true, he had not been the one to find him nor was he at the funeral so he had not seen Romano dead. All of his memories of Romano were when he was alive and happy (angry). Italy on the other hand had been living this last year with the pictures and knowledge that the last time he saw his brother was right after he died.

"You're right … I am lucky … I wish it had been anyone else but you who found him … have you, you know talked to anyone about it?" Spain asked waiting for Italy to punch him again or something. Germany must have really been training him hard (omg … I typed this and then just thought about).

"No … sometimes I wake up and forget he's even gone … but then other times I can't get that image out of my head." Italy said finding it nearly impossible to look at Spain in the face. Spain had been nothing but kind and considerate to him during this and what had Italy done to him? Smash his car up, call him names, and beat him up. "I … I'm sorry for … you know beating you up …" Italy said finally looking at Spain and seeing the damage he had done.

"Veneziano … you really should see someone or at least talk to someone … you know it may help you." Spain said Italy looked at him unsure how to take his words. "I'm not saying your weak or anything but finding your brother … like that could have really messed with you … and I don't think Romano would want you to be blaming yourself or feeling haunted by his death like this." He added and hoped the Italian would not attack him again.

"Spain … you're right. I don't think Romano is happy knowing I'm still blaming you and beating on you … or you blaming yourself." Italy said the last bit quieter. The two again sat in silence Italy smoking his cigarette while Spain just sat there staring at Romano's headstone. "Spain? Do you want me to take you to the hospital?" Italy asked as he stood and snuffed out the cigarette.

"I don't think anything is broken … just bruises but thank you." Spain said as he stood. The two for a while awkwardly before both turned and went their separate ways.

Spain returned home, he walked around and collected Romano's things that were still at his home. He placed all the haunting items in a box, which he took to his attic. Although Spain knew he was always going to love Romano and would only love him; that was the past. And it was time to stop haunting himself. The last thing Spain found of Romano's was the ring, the one he had given him. Spain thought of putting it in the box with the rest of his things but could not. So instead he placed it on a chain, leaving the ring close to his heart, just like Romano.

Italy on the other hand drove himself to the nearest clinic asking for a therapist. He spent a number of hours just talking, talking more than he had in months. He talked about everything, his brother, the horrid things he had been doing to Spain for the last year, and even his relationship with Germany. During his conversation with the therapist he felt for the first time at peace since his brother's death. Although the blame he felt and blame he wanted to place on Spain was still there he felt that Spain had been right, he needed someone to talk to about it.

It had been about a month since Spain and Italy's incident at the cemetery. Neither had spoken since. Spain was nervous about the meeting, he was unsure what to expect from Italy. During the time they had spent together had been awkward and slightly bi-polar: one minute Italy did not seem to hate him to the next yelling and beating him up. Spain had to lie to France and Prussia saying he had gone out drinking and gotten into a fight. He was sure neither really believed him but they had not said anything either. Spain was about to walk into the meeting room when he was roughly grabbed by the arm and dragged off. Once out of the room Spain turned to look at his "kidnapper".

Oh no, who could that be? Anyone want to guess? I'm going to try and update as soon as I can!

Duces up and peace :)