The Best Kind of Pain
The bushy brown fluff twitched just slightly as little paws scurried across the pavement. It hurdled toward a lone skinny tree, closer, and closer, until it suddenly came to a stop. Lifting onto its hind legs, the small squirrel frantically looked left, and right, then left, then right… Oh, wait, was it right, and then left? Or was it… Oh wait, the squirrel was already gone. Darn.
I hummed to myself a little as I turned back towards my two friends, France and Prussia. They were talking loudly amongst themselves, Prussia blushing and shouting as France was speaking something about polar bears, earning whispers and stares at our table from the other people sitting in the fancy French café. Then, a thought came to me.
"France?" My voice stopped the bickering and the blonde man on my left looked up at me with questioning eyes, as did the Albino on my right.
"Oui, Mon Ami?"
"You're the country of love, si?" I waited for him to nod slightly in confirmation before continuing, "Why do you not have a lover, then?"
"Ah," He threw back his head with a haughty laugh, "Don't you see, my Spanish friend? The world is my lover!" He ended the sentence with a wide gesture around the French Café.
Gilbert laughed, and so, I laughed, too, as if I had actually understood what he just said. "Is that painful?"
"Of course it is not! I mean," He gave Prussia a taunting look, "It must be healthier than the maple syrup-sweet love you get from mon petit Mathieu, non?"
Suddenly flustered, Prussia flailed his arms in a lame attempt to hide his overly-obvious blush, bright red against colorless white, "Heh, well, I, uh, the Awesome, um..." Finally silencing his loud gibberish and gestures for a moment, he resolved in pointing at Antonio and shouting, "Well, what about you? It's got to be horrible going out with that Italian brat!"
Ignoring the insult, I got lost in thoughts of my little tomato. His hair, like silky chocolate... His eyes, caramel-colored, sprinkled with beautiful flecks of olive green... That skin, soft and smooth and so sensitive that the slightest touch would send his face ablaze... Ah, I would never get enough of my Lovi, no.
Of course, looks weren't everything. Lovino had personality, too. A lot of it. Like the times Lovino would twist his face into a scowl when I'd wear something he didn't like, or when Lovino would suddenly call my phone and yell and curse at me for something I didn't do, or all those times he'd call me lazy before demanding a tomato and a foot-rub.
There were the sweet moments, too. The times he'd give me a hug after a long day, the times he'd get up and help me with my garden, or cooking, or he'd help me make flowers for my boss, and my most cherished memory was the time when I came home with a single rose, just for him, and no matter what feeble attempts he made, I could still see that pretty pink dusting across his cheeks and that little delighted smile that made me fly to the heavens. Every kiss I gave, he gave back. Every hug, every compliment, every 'I love you'... they never went unanswered. I knew Lovino loved me, even if he didn't say it much.
I chuckled at my own thoughts and gently shook my head, "Maybe, but he's the best kind of pain."
A/N: Phew! This is my very first story, so I'd really appreciate some critisism and support :) It's kind of based off of the song She's Killing Me by Rocket to the Moon (I found it scary how relevant it was to how Spain and Romano's relationship might be XD) I really hope you enjoyed it! Hasta La Pasta~