Red

A/N: Yesh I adore Spain and I absolutely love spamano it is one of my favorties :3 So criticsm is asked for it will help me learn... (so corny)

WARNING: GORE AND MY CRAPPY EDITING SKILLS!

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia otherwise Romano would declare his love for spain 3

Chapter Uno~

Antonio opened his eyes it was still quite dark, it took him a moment to realize that he was in the bathroom leaning over the tub. He felt a cold metal in his hand, and something liquid running down his arms. It did not surprise him, this had become a usual occurance for him. To wake up in that color; a color he had grown to hate. No matter what that color would be a part of him, never leaving it was even woven into the pride and loyal colors of his flag. He had seen it many times before painting his lands, especially he himself. Caused by the very same object he held in his hand, he turned the object in his hand.

The shining silver blade with a intricate pattern of whorls and swirls, to represent his rolling lands and shores, but it had been stained with a forever red, of enemy's and now even his own. It trickled down the blade some dripping into the tub while some running down the handle and pooling around his fingers which he could not bring to release the blade. He lifted up his arms to look at the markings he had left this time; he was unable to clearly see them because of the drying red that coated the cuts. He rose to his feet walking over to the counter, he casually dropped the knife into the sink and stared at himself in the mirror.

He was Spain, a land so great and so magical with mountains, rivers, beautiful coastlines, and large cities. Amazing cities that held his people, but he was also Antonio Fernandez Carriedo. A man, to humans he was a powerful man who could never die and had incredible strength, he truly was more vulnerable. His emotions were truly what betrayed him, exposed to centuries of poverty, change and war. So much war, such memories would never leave him, forever seared into his mind. He had to keep on though, for his Lovi; turning the faucet on. He began to scrub ruthlessly at the scabs scattered across his forearms and wrists. The scrubbing turned violent, he began to claw at his skin oblivious to the burning of his skin. The flesh ripped and torn from the constant abuse. When the red poured from his arms enough that the water running over them was almost pure red he stopped, sighing. He clenched his fist not even wincing as he held his arms under the water, without his scratching it was only maybe 10 minutes when the water had only a light pink tinge to it.

He knew he would have to cover them up once again, so that it wouldn't worry his Romano. He opened the cabinet to his left and pulled out his bandages, and skin makeup. He took the edge of the bandage and wrapped it around his right forearm quite tightly, not enough to cut off circulation though. Just where no blood would leak out from the edges, he did so to his left arm as well a little tighter though since it seemed that those cuts were deeper than the ones one his right arm. He knew he had to hide it now, it would be idiotic to just were a long sleeved shirt, or one with the bandages. He dabbed a little of the th liquid makeup on his forefinger lightly spreading it across the bandages. His motions had become robotic, a haze over his eyes, similiar to those of an addict during the high. Unlike an addict he was in no realm of happiness, only a dull forever pain throbbing. He may push it away but it would still be there forever in the back of his mind. When he hid it it only grew worse, but a true blow was when ever his one true love rejected him yet again.

He would tell Romano how he felt in a jokingly manner as not to trully affect the young boy wgho; would always knock him down crushing his hopes. It would not seem so on the surface but underneath all the fake smiles and laughs he was crying. He was sobbing silently over his rejection as it burned his soul, stamping his heart, with a forever scar.

As he covered the last of his bandages with the skin makeuo it was not noticable at a glance but if you stared at it for a minute you could tell it was a different tone as though his forearms and wrists had been tanned not the rest of his body. He put the bandages back in the cabinet stuck the makeup in his back pocket.

Cracking open the door he peeked out into the hallway, looking to his left; and looking to his right stepped out into the hallway. Placing his feet lightly upon the hardwood floors, he snuck to his bedroom. Closing the door quietly and locking it with a sigh, he walked casually to his dresser and pulled out an old long sleeve shirt that he would wear often. Slidding it on he turned to the mirror and looked to his reflection; the dark circles under his eyes and just the sad yet empty look in them. He kept staring unable to look away, he was captivated by his own vunerability; it was pathetic. He soon found himself glaring at himself in the mirror, he was angry at himself for being so weak; unable to take a small draw back from obtaining his precious Lovino. He wanted nothing more than to slam his face into the mirror, shatter the pathetic him. Rid himself of it, an unworthy part of himself; it was not a part of him.

He was Spain the country of passion, and he was passionate about very many things.

A/N: This is more or less a prologue chapter please review criticize, whatever you prefer even flames I could care less.