Author's note:

Oh god. I hope you guys know that I love every single character in this fanfiction. D8 So please don't flame me for certain parts. This goes into Spain vs. England, Spamano, ect. So please, please acknowledge that I love everyone and even intend on cosplaying Lovino. 8D;

And don't ask why Feliciano's using Japanese honorifics. ._. I think it's cute when he does it. XDD


The thick red liquid moved slowly towards the brown boots, the young boy's brown eyes hiding behind his hands. His fingers left room for him to see the boy on the ground, still bleeding from the gunshot wound to his chest.

"N-Nii-san! Wake up!" Feliciano screamed, tears stinging at the corners of his eyes. The boy fell to his knees, the bottom of his green dress and apron now soaked in the blood. "R-Romano-nii-san!" The boy screamed once more, leaning over the body of the boy in the brown button up shirt. His hands reached for the wound, almost as if he was trying to cover it up and pretend it wasn't there. The brunette sobbed, keeping his eyes locked on the face of his older brother, trying to convince himself that he was going to wake up at any moment. He'd give him the usual annoyed look and everything was going to be fine. Though, no matter how hard Veneziano tried to wake him up, the boy's eyes remained closed and his skin was growing rapidly colder.

The younger brother tried wiping his tears away, smearing blood onto his face before trying to lift the body onto his lap. "Romano-nii-san! You can't leave us yet!" He screamed, covering half his face with a hand while the other one kept his dead brother from sliding off of his lap. "What about me? What about Antonio-san?" He yelled once more, hoping something was going to be able to get through to his brother. Though, his chest never rose to take a breath- his cheeks didn't turn the normal red color when Antonio was brought up. He just remained limp, and Feliciano couldn't stand to see his brother this way.

Moving his gaze from his brother to the gun that lay on the opposite side of him, the boy reached out towards it, his hand shaking as he leaned over his dead brother. He didn't know what he wanted with it, but whoever had shot his brother had left it for them to see.

"Don't touch it, Feliciano." A voice called from in front of him, causing the young boy's hand to recoil slightly- remaining only a couple inches from the weapon. His eyes lifted, staring at the familiar tan skin of the person his brother had been living with since their parents had died at a young age.

"A-Anto-"

"I know." He cooed, trying to soothe the young boy even though he knew that every attempt would be in vain. Seeing the boy lay peacefully in Feliciano's lap even tore him up inside, though he refused to show it. Antonio had always felt the need to be the one who was always happy, and even if it seemed heartless, he intended it to stay that way. He refused to show anyone his remorse- wanting to keep it bottled up until he was safe in his room. The Spanish man moved to kneel down next to Feliciano, pulling him into a tight hug while his hand pet the back of his head. The boy who was dressed in a blood stained dress let himself be pulled into the hug, knowing that he needed it. The small boy buried his face into Antonio's clothes, needing the comfort of the warm body rubbing his back while he rested his chin on the top of Feliciano's head.

"W-Why did this happen to Romano-nii-san?" The reddish brown haired boy cried out, gripping at Antonio's shirt. The older boy looked towards the silver gun, closing his green eyes to try and force away the tears that were stinging at the corners of his eyes.

"I-I don't know, Veneziano..." He whispered the lie, wishing he could believe it himself.

A blonde man had been standing on the corner of the next block, leaning against a building with his hands folded in front of his chest. A smirk appeared on his face, standing up straight and walking in the direction that they wouldn't be able to see him. Now he had him- Lovino was gone and he was going to watch the Spanish boy break.