Just something I've been dying to get to and have finally gotten the time to just sit and write near the fireplace before I start packing for my trip to Florida ( Cumpleanos Feliz Nino! Enjoy this tiny gift :3 )

. . . .

Ruffling out any stray wrinkles in his dress, a small Italian sat on the weathered porch steps of an old, large Spanish colonial styled house. The sky was a dull pink today, random little puffs of gray scattered the sky while birds chirped off in the distance, tending to their young. The trees rustled with a quiet rhythm of a calm night to come, maids chattering deep within the corridors of the mansion, barely heard by the Italian as he contently stared at a dirt road in front of him.

Now, this wasn't just any dirt road. This was the dirt road. The dirt road that he'd watch every night after dinner, to when the older maids would have to come out and scold him for staying up too long. No, this path was special to the boy. It held a sense of anticipation, a yearning for what would come of the other side.

Sighing, the boy lazily kicked a rock and watched it clatter against the pavement of the smooth cobblestone walkway until it slid into a bush. This was his daily routine. Day after day, hour after hour, a feeling of emptiness racked the smaller nation's thoughts. He would do his chores (with an exception to cleaning), eat, sleep and wait on the porch every night. It wasn't the working that had his tinnier body jittery with nerves; it was the constant disappointment he felt when his nights would end uneventfully.

"Dammit…"

Staring at a lady bug crawl up his tiny boot, the boy muttered deep in his thoughts. He wished he was a lady bug. They seemed so beautiful and unique, not to mention free…he furrowed an eyebrow and move his tiny finger to poke at its hard shell. The bug scampered away and flew off without a moment more, disappearing into the darkening sky. He scowled at the small creature; how was it able to fly off whenever it wanted when he couldn't?

Why was he not able to do anything?

Memories of burnt foods, broken vases, crashed bookshelves and angry faces crept into his head. That's right; he wasn't worthy of freedom.

Ever since he could remember, he was constantly scolded for not doing things correctly. He'd always mess everything up. He was always burdened with the shadow of his younger brother. Talk about a shot to his dignity. He was being out touched by his younger brother…who was also the cutest of the both of them. He had learned that quickly too.

Veneziano.

He didn't loath his brother for inheriting the ability to cook and clean, to sing and draw, not to mention win the hearts of the grown countries surrounding them. No, he envied him. He wished desperately to even have the fraction of what his brother had. Admiration.

"To hell with them all." The boy spouted quietly.

On the other hand he didn't mind loathing the bastards that tried to take him from this place; the Spanish house. Where the summers were scorching; filled with trips to the tomato fields and sun kissed skin glimmering in the humid tall grasses. Where guitars were strummed lazily on Sunday mornings, and the song of twilight succumbed you to lie under mesmerizing stars of never-ending dark nights.

He loved it here. It was his home away from home.

And it truthfully was. He knew he didn't belong here, yet he did have the underlying feeling of being accepted. That's all he wanted; to be known, loved, cared for, spoiled.

The boy could suddenly feel his cheeks heat up with the realization of what he was thinking. He did know of course that he was, despite everything, all of those things. Thanks to one certain person that is.

"Bastard."

That's right; he was beating around the bush wasn't he? He did have all of those desirable things, maybe even more. But he didn't believe for one second that those traits were willingly thought of. He knew that person was probably only doing it out of pity…right?

Growing annoyed with his own muddled thoughts, the Italian hopped off of the stone steps with a little click of his boots echoing in the now silent evening. It was almost time for him to go to bed but…he didn't want to leave. He had grown much too fond of his post on the porch steps, he often times now hid there when he was scolded by the maids.

His eyes were transfixed on the road.

"It has to be tonight…" he murmured to himself, "I-I've waited long enough, it's not fair."

Was he starting to reason with himself? Give into the greedy thoughts? Somewhere deep down, he could even picture the hurt the other person was feeling. And it was all to do what? Guarantee his own safety?

He didn't need to be protected, not if it meant the other person would end up getting hurt.

He knew that lunatic was out there somewhere, injuring himself for his sake. The last memory he had of him was that of the limping body coming through the elegant Spanish entrance. His uniform coated in blood, bandages strewn on random parts of his body as the older women that worked in the infirmary dragged him behind two doors.

It was only two seconds, but he had seen him.

After that, he didn't see him at all. The Spaniard was either resting in bed or busy with meetings all night long. It was starting to concern the smaller nation while he sat in the background of it all, leisurely eating a plump tomato.

The grumpy Italian puffed out a cheek and folded his arms, "I'm not moving." He muttered, "N-Not until I see your stupid face."

The boy's arms dropped to his sides silently as he stared through the pitch dark night concealing the Spanish estate. He had skipped over the eyes of the maids and returned to the porch steps with his arms still folded, only to have that same gut wrenching disappointment flood over him.

Clenching his teeth, the small Italian took tiny wavering breaths to calm his erratic heart. If he didn't, he was afraid the tears would start, even though they would without his control once he isolated himself to the depths of his room.

Where was he god dammit?!

Turning on his heel, he ascended the stairs, each step feeling as if is foot weighed ten pounds. How long was this going to last? He wasn't sure he'd be able to keep reliving the tearing of his heart.

Tears prickling the corners of his eyes as he reached the door and placed a tiny hand to the rough, aged wood, the boy suddenly felt as if there was someone watching him.

Hesitating, he blinked in confusion as the sweet wisp of a whistle churned in the late night's breeze. His heart was picking up pace. Was this it? He hurriedly jumped down the stairs, skipping a couple on his way until the grassy earth clasped the bottom of his boots.

The familiar tune danced in the young boy's ears as he was blinded from every angle in darkness.

"My my Romano~, you haven't changed…"

And with the trill of the Spaniard's voice, Romano's heart stopped for a moment before he felt familiar arms wrap warmly around him.

. . . .

Well i hope you liked it! Im not quite sure if I want to turn this into a Fanfic as it was only intended for a little present and a drabbe but, please don't hestitate to comment or give advice! And if i get some positive feedback I might consider adding to it ^^