/His love will always be unrequited./
His brothers are as different as night and day.
His elder brother is oblivious and cheerful, almost to the point of being considered stupid by the foolish nation who doesn't know him well. He usually misses the point with startling inaccuracy and is admittedly a coward who races away from any danger with baffling speed, but his hugs are the warmest Seborga has ever known (even warmer than Wy's, but hers are usually reluctant) and his smile is one of the brightest he's seen.
Veneziano is the one Seborga can count on to be forever straightforward and affectionate.
His eldest brother seems to be the complete opposite. Although he is sensitive (as the entire family seems to be), he covers his heart with a harsh tongue and rather colorful profanity. He can be generally unlikable and downright cruel at times, especially to those who love him the most, and persistently shoves away all who attempt to get closer to him with admirable determination. But in those few times when he lowers his shield, the few that Seborga has grown to treasure, he proves to be reluctantly kind (which he attempts to cover with harsher words, but at that point, whoever is on the receiving end can usually read the hidden meaning).
Romano is the one Seborga can count on to hide his affections behind cruel words and taunts.
His feelings are light and day as well.
With Veneziano, he is generally happy and at ease, an unwavering and overall calm cast over his body. He never has to question his love for his brother, because he also feels that same affection for Spain and Sealand. Friendship and camaraderie mingled with the love between family—it isn't difficult to tell. With Romano, he is conflicted. His heart is so full it aches around his eldest brother and he doesn't understand why it's so painful. He loves his brother—really, he does. But it's different than the way he loves Veneziano, and he doesn't know why.
It scares him.
Surprisingly enough, it is Veneziano who is the first to notice something is strange.
On one of Seborga's frequent visits to his brothers' house, after Romano has traveled to the kitchen to grudgingly make dinner when the combined whines of the younger for his pizza became too much to bear, Veneziano rolls onto his stomach, props up his chin, and observes his brother with his usual smile. "What happened, Fratellino?"
"Nothing!" he laughs. "What gave you that idea?"
Veneziano's cheerful expression softens momentarily—almost as if he understands something Seborga himself has never even noticed. "Oh, Fratellino," he sighs, but his tone is still as merry as ever, so when he doesn't go into further detail and instead changes the topic to Germany, Seborga tries to think nothing of it.
Seborga has always felt welcome at his brothers' house. Veneziano is always pleased to see him and the strength behind his hugs prove it; Romano, on the other hand, never goes out of his way to acknowledge him besides the usual insults, but he shrugs it off because he knows better. Once, he had attempted to leave after a few hours instead of staying the night like he usually does, and Romano had thrown a tantrum at the thought that Seborga would rather spend time with someone over his family ("It's bad enough that Veneziano blows us off for the Potato Bastard, damn it!").
So, when he is forced to wait a minute and a half on the doorstep and use his own key, he is immediately worried. As far as he knows, both of them are home and what reason would they have for not answering the door? He quietly makes his way through the house, listing off all possible reasons, even coming close to the conclusion that the alien of America's that Sealand told him about may have held them hostage to make him pasta, before he enters the kitchen.
And then he immediately knows why he isn't welcome.
Spain is seated at the table, chattering about nothing in particular with his usual enthusiasm for anything and everything. However, once Seborga enters, he beams and cheerfully exclaims, "Hola, Seborga! If I knew you were here, I would have brought you a tomato! You like tomatoes, si?"
Romano, on the other hand, grumbles, "Damn it, why don't you ever call before you come over? You have a fucking phone!"
Seborga's chest tightens painfully.
"Roma~" Spain throws an arm around the scowling Italian and pokes his cheek, cheerfully oblivious to the glare being sent his way. "Be nice!"
Seborga leaves before he can hear Romano's reply to seek out Veneziano, who will definitely greet him with more warmth than his other brother. True to nature, the moment he lays eyes on him, Veneziano pulls him into a firm hug and prattles on, but Seborga is too confused to comprehend the words.
He doesn't understand why seeing Spain and Romano together hurts so much.
But later, after Spain leaves with a cheerful wave and the intent to visit another friend before his vacation time is used up, Romano is kinder to him. Not kind enough to offer his side of the bed, but kind enough to bring Seborga a blanket for the couch—a task usually left to Veneziano, so Seborga accepts it as an apology with a warm smile.
"The Tomato Bastard always pisses me off," Romano says offhandedly, but there is no spite behind his words and although his expression is hard his eyes are soft. It is a lie and Seborga's heart leaps to his throat, chest tightening in a way that makes it difficult to breathe.
"Of course," he manages to murmur in agreement.
Romano's lips quirk into the shadow of a smile and he ruffles his little brother's hair, bides him good night without adding damn it, and leaves him to get some rest.
Seborga only buries his face into his pillow and sighs.
He understands.
As with everything that confuses him, he seeks out Monaco for aid.
They have grown closer over the span of a few months, after she in her own way agreed to go on a date with him. Although the date ended with the mutual consent that the proper spark was not there, a friendship was forged, and Seborga found that Monaco understands what Sealand and Wy do not.
So when he appears on her doorstep with something akin to melancholy beneath his cheerful smile, she ushers him inside and worriedly prepares him a cup of tea without a second thought. She sets down cream and sugar on the table, anxiously wrings her hands, and asks, "What's troubling you, Seborga?"
"I…I think I'm jealous of Spain," he admits, sipping his tea in embaressment.
Monaco manages to mask her shock beneath a well-practiced expressionless appearance, and he suddenly gets why she's so good at gambling. He can't read a thing that she's thinking, so he doesn't know if spilling out his heart to this girl is such a good idea.
"Romano," he says simply.
"Oh, dear…" She reaches across the small table and squeezes his hand reassuringly, something heartbreaking flashing across her eyes. "I know he doesn't pay that much attention to you when he's with Spain, but he still cares for you," she explains softly. "There's no need to feel jealous."
"No, you don't understand." Breathing has suddenly become difficult and he, desperately, heaves for breath, wildly grasping her hand between his and ignoring the panicked expression that breaks her poker face. "You don't understand!"
For a moment, silence reigns as she takes in his desperation with open bewilderment; and then, her expression softens once more and she moves her chair beside his, pulling his forehead down onto her shoulder and stroking his hair softly. "How long?" she asks quietly.
"I don't know, but Monaco…" He pauses, and she worriedly fixes her glasses. "It hurts," he says simply.
Lie.
"I know," Monaco murmurs.
He can't help it; she makes him feel safe—so, so safe, as if they are the only two who matter—and he can't help it. He begins to pour his heart out to the girl he thought he loved, staining her dress with his tears as she cradles him closer to her body for reassurance, taking in his words with that same heartbreaking expression she usually dons when he is upset.
And once he settles down and stops crying, he thinks about his dear Monaco and her unwavering concern for his welfare. "I'm sorry," he mumbles against her soft braid.
"I know," she sighs and cradles him closer.
It hurts.
"…borga. Hey, idiot! Seborga!"
Lazily, he cracks open an eye and is pleasantly surprised to see Wy hovering over him, hands poised on her hips and a pretty frown spanned across her lips. "Ciao, Wy!"
She scowls. "I've been trying to get your attention for the past five minutes," she huffs, flopping on the ground beside him as he slowly sits up, stretching as he does so. She glances over him warily. "You've been acting weird."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean…you have this…" she flounders for her words for a moment before sighing heavily and hesitantly slipping her hand into his own, awkward but well-meaning in movement, although she looks at their adjoined limbs warily and not without visible reluctance. "Feeling better?"
"Much," he exclaims cheerfully. "What are you doing?"
"Holding your hand, stupid."
He laughs good-naturedly at her blunt words, but his chest tightens. Sometimes, with her short fuse and quick tongue, she reminds him of Romano. "I know," he murmurs, "but why?"
Wy casts him a wary glance and then snaps her head forward, avoiding his eyes with sudden determination. "Sealand told me Latvia sometimes holds his hand when he's upset," she says quietly. "He said it makes him feel better, and you were upset, so… "
He squeezes her hand once before releasing it, much to her obvious relief. He knows that, although they are friends, Wy is younger than him and still is reluctant to get too close to boys, so he is touched she made a brief, awkward exception for him. "Thank you, Wy."
"Just don't make me do it again."
He smiles, because he knows that's code for: don't give me a reason to do it again, stupid.
"I won't," he says sincerely, and she grins naively in response.
They are eating dinner when he blurts it out. It isn't in his nature to hold things in so long, so without really thinking about the consequences, he absentmindedly glances at Romano and says, "I love you."
Romano chokes on his bite of pasta, while Veneziano looks momentarily confused, brain churning in an effort to understand the sudden words.
"What the hell did you say?"
Seborga smiles softly and prods his pasta. "I love you."
Veneziano is quicker to pick up on the information the second time around and, although he says, "I love you too, Fratellino!" easily enough, his eyes are more serious than Seborga has seen them in a while. That is when he understands: he made a mistake.
Romano just sighs.
"…eat your damn pasta."
After dinner, he offers to help Veneziano with the dishes.
Romano hesitates and then ruffles his hair, face softening into something akin to affection. Then, without a word or another glance, he leaves.
When they are finished cleaning, Veneziano grabs Seborga's hand, shouts a half-assed excuse to Romano who merely shoos them away from blocking the television, and drags him to the bedroom, closing the door securely behind them. "Fratellino?" he begins hesitantly.
"I know," Seborga sighs, smile intact.
Veneziano gently touches the back of his hand and glances at the window. "Do you really love Fratello?"
"Si."
"Fratello…doesn't like to be told," he says slowly, lips twitching into a frown. "Fratellino, you can't do that. It's like…hug therapy. Fratello can be so mean sometimes! So I give him a hug to cheer him up and he says he doesn't like it, but everyone likes hugs! The ones who don't like hugs need them the most. Did you know that?
"With Fratello, you have to show him you love him."
Seborga sighs and murmurs, "I don't just love him. I'm in love with him. Sometimes, it hurts."
Veneziano falls silent for a moment; and then, without hesitation, he throws his arms around Seborga's neck and pulls him into a tight embrace. "Cheer up~" he exclaims brightly. "Even if Fratello doesn't love you like that, you can't be sad! Be happy~"
Seborga pulls away and beams, even if his heart is protesting furiously.
Spain drops by to visit in the afternoon, green eyes alight with genuine excitement and unwavering devotion, smile far brighter than any Seborga has seen when he sets sight on Romano. Although Romano protests furiously, he doesn't pull away from Spain's embrace and instead mumbles profanities (I'm surrounded by dumbasses.").
Watching Romano with Spain—it's agonizing. His throat is entirely closed and his heart feels like it has been ripped from his chest, but he musters a cheery laugh and graciously accepts the tomato Spain has brought for him. And when Spain pecks Romano on the cheek and the Italian kicks him in the knee with enough force to make him fall with a cry, cheeks flushed bright red—
He understands now: he is in love with Romano, and that love will always go unrequited.
So he smiles.
(For Monaco, for Wy, for Veneziano…for Romano.)
A/N: I don't really know why, but I absolutely adore Seborga and Romano together! X3 They are cute, no?
Anyway, so I was listening to a depressing song and this was born. There are some parts that I'm definately fonder of than others, but I think it ties together well enough and I just had to write this. Please drop by a review.
~ the lady of spades
P.S. Lame title is lame. It's 4 am when I made it. ;-;