"Ironic isn't it?" Spain remarked randomly.
The notorious BTT had thought it was a good idea to get together at the German brother's house that night; however, only Spain was left standing, in a matter of speaking. The tan nation, as Germany had noted centuries ago, had a tendency to wax poetry when he got wasted. France and Prussia were passed out on the couch, leaning and drooling on each other's shoulders, so Germany could only assume it was him that was being addressed.
Yet it was always difficult to tell when it came to Spain.
One minute he'd be reciting poetry at Gilbird, of all things, before cutting off mid-word to hold a one sided conversation with a lamp, usually he would tell the inanimate object 'my most romantic love story', gesturing wildly as if trying to be animated enough for the both of them. Germany quietly snorted his disgust into his beer.
How egotistical could you possibly be? He thought.
Prussia snored, drawing Germany's icy blue gaze. Never mind.
Germany watched Spain as he tilted his head back, now looking upside down at the wall behind him, his drunken green gaze landed on a picture. It was a picture that Romano, Italy, Spain and Germany possessed. Although Germany only kept his copy because Italy wanted him to, whereas Spain kept his copy because he cherished all his moments with Romano, the blonde German didn't know why Romano hung on to his but Italy was like Spain.
He wanted to cherish it.
The four of them had gotten a little drunk for the twin's birthday, which was the only reason why Romano was smiling, Germany stood beside Italy, who had his arm linked with the blonde's arm while his other was thrown over Romano's shoulders. Romano had one hand resting atop his brother's while his other was clasping Spain's.
The Spanish nation was holding their joined hands at chest height as he leaned toward Romano; his other hand was buried in his own curly brunette hair as a wave of dizziness had crushed down on him.
After the picture Spain had promptly passed out on the couch.
Spain sighed dreamily, "When I asked Romano to go out with me guess what he said,"
"Vhat?" Germany asked. He wasn't really interested but he was always amazed that Spain rarely slurred when he was drunk. Unlike France and Prussia, whose speech became impaired soon after they lost the ability to walk.
"'If you ever forget me, don't look for me. Because I'll have already forgotten you,'" Spain laughed then and sat up, "As if I could ever forget my Romano." He spun around to fully face the picture on the wall and sat there staring at it for a while.
Every now and then he'd sigh.
Germany took another sip of beer, from years of watching the three nations get drunk and being the analytical person that he was, he knew it was better to let Spain talk until he, too, passed out.
"Ironic, isn't it?" Spain asked again.
Germany raised a slim eyebrow even though Spain couldn't see it. Curiosity was nagging at his mind, he wanted to know what Spain was talking about but a part of him had to wonder if he really wanted to know the thoughts of a drunken Spain.
Well he wasn't going to lose anything by listening to him, he was already doing that. Germany knew his mind was already made up but now he was just stalling to pretend like it wasn't. Again, it wasn't like he was losing anything by waiting, unless Spain decided to pass out anytime soon and then the train of thought would be gone.
Germany may not be losing anything by enjoying a few more drinks of his beer but he wasn't gaining anything either.
Verdammt, looks like bruder was right, I need to stop thinking like this when I'm trying to relax. It's just making me more tense.
"Vhat's ironic?" Germany asked.
Spain startled, like he had forgotten where he was, he blinked a few times and then slowly turned his head to look at Germany.
"We both left our hearts in Rome."