It was late that night but the air was still warm and the city still shone, a perfect summer evening as some would say. A gentle breeze blew through the quiet streets, playing with shutters and rustling through trees, the only disturbance in the otherwise silent roads. Windows were shaded. The moon hung hidden and mysterious in the blackness of the sky. Only the glaring, yellow street lamps shed light on the dark streets. Voices floated down narrow alleys and turn offs, the sounds of rushing cars, of bustling roads, the busy night life of Rome even prominent in the tranquil back streets.
It was calming, the night, a soothing solution to Romano's burning anger as he strolled through the empty streets. The cooling serenity of the surrounding buildings and alleys seamed to draw his anger slowly from him, calming him down, allowing him to think clearly for once.
It was not a suitable distraction for his thoughts though. Even when he tried to think of other things, things that did not make him scowl in anger, that did not make him want to lash out and shout or hit something, his mind would still wonder back to the same, persistent thing; his brother.
He still couldn't believe it, that Veneziano, his own brother of all people, could do something like this to him. He might have expected others to do it, others who cared little about him, who did not see him as suitable for a close friend, but not Veneziano. And yet, he had waited two hours in the restaurant for his brother to show up, two fucking hours of sitting alone, as though he'd been stood up on a date, embarrassed, always asking the waiters just to wait five more minutes, just one more drink, he'll be here soon, don't worry.
Had it really meant so little to him that Veneziano could just forget what they had arranged? This was supposed to be their lunch, a chance to catch up again after almost months of being separated, constantly in the company of their loved ones, for him Spain, for his brother, Germany...
Germany. Just the name made Romano's anger flare up again, the name of the man responsible for stealing his brother, for keeping him occupied while Romano had waited alone at the restaurant. Not that Veneziano was any less in the wrong. He still remembered his face as he came skipping cheerfully through the door, innocent, not apologetic in the slightest, oblivious to Romano's anger, He hadn't even realised what he had done wrong until Romano brought it up.
Of course, an argument had ensued, heated, shouts echoing loudly through the house, mainly his (only his) and Veneziano had done nothing to defend himself, just stood there like the brainless idiot he was, crying as Romano yelled...
Although, Veneziano had apologised, not that Romano had given him a lot of chance. In fact, now he was able to look back on it through calmer eyes, Romano could see that he had barely even given his brother a chance to explain himself, simply yelling and storming out of the house without a second glance.
He couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt, of regret, as his very last words echoed back through his mind.
"Some brother you turned out to be."
He was at the park now, the small simple stretch of greenery that lay in the midst of where he and his brother lived, often deserted, just what Romano needed right now. He didn't want to think of Veneziano, of the anger, of the guilt that it brought with it, he needed a distraction, better than just walking, something that might tear his anger away and replace it with a smile instead.
In desperate hope, he pulled out his phone, opening it to find a missed call from the idiot Spaniard that he had to call a boyfriend. Why the fuck was he calling at this hour? He could've sworn Spain had some obsession with needing to hear Romano's voice all the time, even if it was only in a phone call. He couldn't go two hours without needing to pick up his phone again, calling Romano, texting him. It could get stupidly annoying sometimes.
Not that Romano didn't like it. It always managed to make him smile.
Knowing this was exactly what he needed right now, Romano was quick to dial Spain's number, closing his eyes as he held the phone to his ear. He wished desperately for him to pick up with every ring that passed.
"Hola?" For a moment, Romano could only smile at the sound of his voice, loving the thick Spanish accent and cheerfulness that rang through every word. It was only then that he realised he had no clue what to say.
"H-hi... It's me..."
"Ah, Romano~!" The Italian could almost hear the smile on his lips as the Spaniard said the words. "This is a first. Usually I'm the one who calls you." A small chuckle came down the line and Romano immediately blushed.
"Shut up, bastard! I'll hang up if you don't want to talk to me."
"No! Don't do that, Roma. What did you want to talk to me about?"
Romano paused for a moment, deliberating whether or not to tell him the story, unsure what he would make of it. But as he heard the sound of Spain's voice drifting down the line, the love of his life, something he was more certain about than anything, he knew he could trust him to listen, to know what to say and what to do, to love him back.
As Romano delved into the story, recapping everything he could, even yelling at points when he felt his anger flaring up again, Spain was true to his promise and listened intently, understanding, calming him down when rage began to fill him, comforting him when his hurt became too much, and, as always, knowing the perfect thing to say at the end.
"You have every right to be angry, Roma-"
"I knew it! It's all his fault!"
"But remember, he is your brother. People make mistakes sometimes, people forget things. You say he was with Germany? Well you of all people should understand what happens when you're with the one you love. Time passes in an instant, and before you know it the sun is setting and everything you wanted to do in the day is long behind you. That doesn't mean he's forgotten you. You're still important to him, Roma. You will always be."
The silence was thick. Romano just stared at the ground, thinking carefully about Spain's words, about what they meant, trying to crush the guilt that leaked through him. He wanted to be angry at his brother. The hurt that still stung in him made him feel vulnerable, in need for reason to blame his brother for what had happened, but deep down, he knew Spain was right. They were brothers, and Veneziano would never forget that.
Romano sighed heavily, having faced to much emotion for one night, and was about to answer Spain when he heard voices murmuring down the line of the phone. Realising quickly that Spain was talking to someone else, he stayed quiet, staring up at the clear sky as he waited, watching the stars as they twinkled and shone with permanent beauty and resilience against the crushing blackness of the night. He wondered briefly if the stars ever got lonely where they hung in the sky, unable to touch anything else around them, unable to communicate or have their voices heard, as they were surrounded by blackness. He wondered if they could ever truly understand how much of an influence they had on the world. At one point, too recently for comfort, Romano could have said he related greatly with the stars as they shone silently up there, but now, he knew better.
Spain's voice broke his deep thoughts as he came back to the phone.
"I'm so sorry Roma, I have to go now. My boss is forcing me to come with him and do some work for once." He laughed, sweet and gentle. "Are you alright now, my love?"
Despite all the times he had been called the sweet nickname by Spain, it still made Romano blush.
"Y-yeah. I'm fine. Thank you."
He chuckled again, although this time Romano failed to see what was funny.
"Any time, darling. I'm always here for you. I love you."
Romano's blush darkened at the words, but this time he didn't let it stop him from stammering back: "I-I love y-you too..."
The dial tone sounded the instant he finished speaking. Romano didn't know if Spain had heard him or not.
Feeling less aggravated after his talk with Spain, it was no more than five minutes before Romano had decided to head home again. He felt more willing to listen to his brother now, his burning rage having died down to a controllable level, determination to not let his anger get the better of him this time driving him forward, if only until he had heard what Veneziano actually had to say.
As he trudged back through the streets, lost in his own thoughts, Romano didn't think to notice the drop in temperature that travelled through the city, the wind coming to a complete stop, leaving only the eerie stillness of the night behind. As he walked, head down, focused on the ground, he didn't look down any of the dim side streets, not seeing anything or anyone else that could be here with him in the back alleys. He simply walked past the two shadowy figures that stood huddled down one of the allies, oblivious to the commotion being caused, unaware of the person in danger.
That was, until she screamed.
A high pitched shriek, chilling, filled with terror as it echoed through the empty streets. It shocked Romano from his thoughts, stopping him in his tracks as it rattled through him. A chill of cold fear skittered unnervingly down his spine.
And then it was gone, silencing as quickly as it had come, turning into a muffled cry before disappearing all together. The way it suddenly cut off, leaving no echoes or even trace that it had even rung out, made horror pool in the pit of Romano's stomach. Someone had cut them off, covering their mouth as though help was the last thing they wanted. It was sickening to think what could be happening.
Romano turned, staring at where the scream had come from, the dark alley he had passed with naivety not a moment ago. He stood there for a panicked moment, stiff with fear, glancing around to see if anything else was going to happen, if anyone was going to run to help, but the silence just echoed around him, unsettling, suffocating.
It was all he could not to turn around then, walk away and never have anything to do with it again, following his first instinct to run as far as possible. But he didn't. He couldn't. He had to help somehow, do something. A scream like that could only have meant something horrible was happening.
He made his frozen feet move, taking a few cautious steps until he was able to peer round the opening of the alley. It was black. Only a trickling of light managed to slither into the ominous darkness. All that could be seen were two shadowy people, grey, shrouded, one taller than the other. The one was pushed up against the wall, trapped. That was where the scream had come from.
The darkness shrouded any details he could have used to discern the shadows from each other. Murmurs drifted towards him from the blackness. Romano tried to listen but the words were indistinguishable from the distance they stood, fleetingly quiet in the already silent night.
Although fear flitted through Romano, his hammering heart echoing loudly into the night, he began to calm at the sight. It seamed from a distance that nothing was happening, no commotion, no reason to scream. But it was the shrouding darkness played on Romano's scepticism. Something inside told him that the scream must have a reason behind it. There had to be something wrong. He should check them, ask if everything was alright, to clear his uncertainty and rest his unease.
Taking his phone from his pocket in case a call to the police was necessary, Romano took a few steps into the darkness, out of the safety of the street. His eyes never left the shadows.
Then there were voices again. He did not know if it was because he was closer or whether it was louder, but he could hear words now. The voice that had screamed was talking, shrieking words of high pitched terror.
"No, no! Please! I'll do it! Just don't..."
As she trailed off, a loud groan of pain echoed around before the deafening silence swallowed them again. The tone in her voice, the cold fear, made Romano freeze in mid step. He watched with dread running cold through his veins as the bigger shadow pushed the smaller hard against the wall. There was more whispering, threatening, and more fear filled squeaking.
Romano tried to make himself take another step. The danger was prominent, but he had to do something. Standing back and letting an innocent woman get hurt was never an option for him, no matter how cowardly he was.
"H-hey!" he called through the alley, trying to sound threatening but only coming out unsure. The shadows froze, suddenly aware that someone else was around, the danger on the culprit now, not the victim.
But he didn't move, he didn't run, he stayed deathly still, trying unsuccessful to blend into the shadows. Clearly this was more than a petty crime. There was motive behind it, reason to stay, reason to risk getting caught, and Romano had forced himself in the middle of it. For a sickly moment, Romano almost wished he had just walked away.
Instead, he forced himself forward, calling out again, this time with more confidence.
"Hey, what are you doing? Get away from her you bastard!"
Only five metres away and now Romano could see some features. A woman, short, dressed up as though she was going out, and a man in a jumper, forcing her up against the wall. It was only now that the man turned to face Romano.
And then he saw it. The flash of light from the street lights behind, reflecting off the metal in the man's hand. A gun.
The Italian froze, suddenly deathly afraid. His blood ran cold through him. His heart beat was loud and obvious in his ears, the only sound he could hear in the silence. He wanted to run, but he knew it was too late. The gun was already pointing at him, the man was already smiling a sickly smile beneath his hood.
The man stepped forward. In turn, Romano motioned to step back.
"Don't move." His voice was quiet, yet full of venom. It sent a cold shiver of fear through Romano, but he obeyed. Even as the man drew closer now, he stayed completely still.
"It was a bad move disturbing our little moment. No one was supposed to see or hear this and now you're just getting in the way."
The tone of voice contained not an ounce of regret or fear, only mild frustration. It irritated Romano that he could think so little from holding a gun, from hurting innocent people, people he didn't even know. Only the sickest of people turned out like that.
But the irritation was quickly lost in the cavern of fear that engulfed him. He watched, trembling, frozen, as the man lifted the gun and pointed it directly at Romano's forehead.
It only took him a moment to begin questioning life as he knew it. No country had ever been shot in the head before, let alone one that was only half a country. He could only imagine the pain that would swallow him up, Was it possible to recover from a wound like this? To survive?
"Just another body to the pile."
The last thing Romano heard was the ear-splitting bang of the gun. Blackness engulfed him, suddenly no where in an empty abyss. Everything was pain, searing, agonising pain that bloomed in his head and grew until there was nothing else.
The last thing he thought of was Spain. Spain's shining smile, his sparkling green eyes, the beautiful sound of his laugh, his voice, the happiness that filled his every second. He gripped tight on the memory of his last words, the brief 'I love you' that had seemed so fleeting then but meant everything now. He thought of all the time they had spent together, the smiles, the laughs, the magically nights, time that seemed so short now, and the numbing realisation spread through him that those things would never happen again.
To him, the thought of loosing Spain was a far greater pain than any gunshot wound could bear.
A/N - I've been planning to write this for a long time, to give some context to the Risk of Love. Hope you all like it :) If you want, just leave a review to tell me your thoughts!