That's what he's been doing this whole time?
"Don't go back." Romano's voice cracked when he spoke. He looked away, swallowed, and repeated himself. "Don't you go running back there."
Spain was standing in the doorway of his mansion, clearly exhausted from his journey home. He was injured, but that was hardly a surprise coming from the New World.
Conquistadors. It was sick. Spain did that? How could he…?
Spain looked up. His response was slow. "I'll be home for a while." Romano shook his head.
"Never go back." Romano said firmly. His voice slackened, trying not to sound mad. " Don't you ever go back."
But how could he be mad? Spain was his everything. The beaten and broken man had given him everything and more, so how could he possibly be angry? He did all those awful things, but Romano was not angry. Romano was never really angry.
Spain stared, and Romano met his gaze.
"Okay, Romano." Spain said with a tired smile. "I'm sure that side of the world has grown tired of me anyway."
Romano felt his heart swell with a thousand emotions. "But I won't." He blurted, desperate to make Spain understand.
The man could only stand there and let the boy talk. It was so rare that Romano spoke so honestly, Spain dare not interrupt.
Romano felt his composure crumbling, his knees wobling. "Spain, don't you get it?" his voice shook again, and he felt something at the back of his eyes. "I'll never grow tired of you, ever." He took an uncertain step forward. "So don't go back. Stay home."
With us.
With me.