"Lovino, I'll make the pasta, you can make the sauce." Feliciano tried to smile at his brother.
Romano had been surprised when his younger brother had called him up, and asked if he would like to come over to their once shared home.
Feli had redecorated the place, and had permanently closed Romano's bedroom door which did not surprise the Southern half of their country.
Lovino figured that if he had been in Feliciano's shoes that he would have done much worse to it.
They were currently trying to cook dinner side by side with out fighting.
The conversation was strained.
Words like "Fratello" were not to be used; it still hurt too much for them to be said.
Their nicknames were also not to be spoken.
Hatred and anger seemed to replace the old love and trust that they had shared as brothers.
Romano and Veneziano were trying though to rebuild that back up, and it was best done away from the German that had caused their brotherly relationship to fail for once in the Italians's lifetime.
Feli spoke up now as he had never been good at hiding his emotions, "I still love him, Fratello. I shouldn't after what happened; I should understand that he loves you and not me, but I can't not love him."
Romano was startled by Feli's use of the Italian word for brother, and by that startling confession.
"I'm sorry that I love him." This was the one thing that Romano would always be sorry for.
The thought that he had hurt his brother so much was still painful; the fact that it had taken months to even be able to see his brother again, hurt.
The fact that his best friend refused to talk to him, and was heartbroken, stung as well.
Romano felt that he had fucked up again, though he always managed to forget the world when Ludwig held him.
He needed those moments of peace, or he couldn't handle all the pain and hatred that everyone else had after the affair.
Even England was grumpier, then again his French boyfriend was busy comforting England's worst enemy which probably would make anyone act the very way that Britain was acting.
Because of all that, Athur Kirkland hated Romano and Germany's affair.
He focused on the pasta sauce since it couldn't inflict pain on others exactly the way that Romano had caused.
"Stop apologizing over it! You don't regret it, or you wouldn't be living at Ludwig's house!" Feliciano shouted.
Romano took a deep breath before he decided that another apology would probably not be the best idea.
"I don't regret loving The Potato Bastard, but I regret hurting both you and Spain. I regret causing the sadness and loneliness that we go through. I hate to be the cause that Ludwig can't see his brother, because Prussia hates me, and won't come around to visit his younger brother when I'm there. I can't stand that I never get to see you, or The Tomato Bastard anymore. I miss my younger brother and my best friend." Romano wondered if he had said too much.
"I hate this pain." Feli added on after his brother's speech.
Romano wrapped his arms around his brother; he had never been one for physical contact like this, but it might help to heal the pain that they were both going through.
"I still love you, Lovi, too." North Italy spoke quietly in a hushed whisper.
"Me too." Romano mumbled; he was never too affectionate, and couldn't even remember the last time that he had told his younger brother that he loved him.
"I'm glad that you do, but I don't know how I will be able to see you when I do, the pain comes back." North Italy confessed.
"I do want to be your brother again, and not the bastard that broke your heart." Romano spoke up.
Feli smiled slightly at that, "We can try to be close brothers like before, and maybe the pain will go away.
Romano felt like he needed that optimism.
"Shit!" Romano cursed when he saw what had happened to their dinner.
Feliciano giggled; he would normally be just as upset whenever pasta was wasted.
"Let's go out to eat!" Feli announced.
That was the first of many times that they met up, and tried to rekindle their bond.
It started out strained and awkward until now when they almost got along like they had once done in the past,