A/N- Alrighty, Thank you ALL for your support, seriously guys I didn't think I would get this much well support. Thanks again! Anyway here is chapter 2, 1 week later, like I promised. I don't really like this chapter, even though this was the first one I wrote OTL I'm more into the chapters after this one, but well I hope this isn't total crap. Sorry for typos/misspells, ect. This story will take a while before it begins to pick up...
Disclaimer: I do NOT own Hetalia, and never will.
Warnings: language, Spamano, Lovino, depressed Feli, spazzy Gil, shitty foreshadowing, confusing setting, kinda rushed, typos.
Chapter 2: Entschuldigung
Leaning his head against the wet wall of his bathtub, Romano heaved out a bitter sigh of overbearing stress. The steamy water poured soothingly against his aching back which caused the nation to close his tired eyes in content. He let out a soft hum of approval, as the steam continued to embrace the room with a relaxing warmth.
Dio, he really needed to think.
Unlike the pussy, and totally fucking unmanly nation, Spain, Romano much more enjoyed relieving his stress by taking a fucking manly shower.
Shut the hell up!
Showers were so totally manly, unlike the girly baths Anto-Spain took.
Fucking sissy, really!
The stupid tomato bastard even had a dumb yellow rubber duck which he had affectionately dubbed as "Señor Patito".
What a fucking pussy!
The damn bastard even payed more attention, not that he cared, to the damn duck than his own lov-man-him!
Chigi!
Romano punched the wall, wincing slightly upon impact.
Shit!
That fucking hurt!
"Stupid fucking bathroom bastard of a wall..." he mumbled silently to himself, his voice bouncing off the bathroom walls. He closed his eyes, now was not the time to curse the stupid spawn of hell or his bastard lov-Anto-Spain! Shit, he had to fucking focus! So much was at stake right now. His lips twitched, and he shook his head.
Focus.
He had to help his fratello, Feliciano.
Right, Feliciano was in trouble.
Shit, when wasn't the idiota in trouble?
Romano shook his head, focus dammit! His stupid fratello was worse than just being in trouble, his lovely little baby brother was depressed.
Fuck you! This was too a serious matter!
Feliciano wasn't using his disgusting crocodile tears, his fratello was actually hurting.
Actually, now that he thought about it, Feli had been like this ever since WWII ended...
Shit!
Why the hell hadn't he noticed this earlier, like fucking seriously! How stupider could he get, Dio? He was being even more ignorant than Felicia-
Shit right, Feli was depressed!
But what the hell was he supposed to do?
Romano grit his teeth in frustration before his lips curled up into a hideous sneer.
"Potato bastard..."
Of course!
Feliciano's happiness, much to his own dismay, revolved around that damn German personification. Why hadn't he connected the pieces sooner Shit, that fucking shithead of a potato bastard had made Feliciano cry! That bastard was so going to fucking pay. He would personally march over to Berlin armed with his favorite pistol and shoot the guy's brains out and chop up all the yucky potato pieces of his yucky potato body and throw him in a fucking ditch. With crocodiles! Oh, and piranhas! Then he'd fucking dance over his shitty remains, above the water and-
Romano hissed in pain, shit the water was too hot now. Trembling hands hesitantly turned the knobs of the water down to a slightly cooler temperature. Now he needed to remember to fix the damn water thingy bath-thing. And by fix, he meant make Ant-Spain fix it.
Well shit.
Any-fucking-way, Feliciano was currently miserable because of something the potato bastard had done to him. Romano smiled proudly to himself, he should get a fucking metal for solving his brother's mysterious illness. But pushing that thought aside, ever since the end of that stupid war, Italy hadn't been the same. Feliciano had locked himself in his room and rarely, if ever, came out it, as he had observed by the past two months he had been here. His brother had also refused to attend world meetings and solve issues that concerned his country. Which of course, that being said, left Romano in charge of taking care of Italy's affairs as well as attending the stupid meetings.
It's been almost 100 years since Feliciano came back home, broken. Actually, now that Romano was thinking about it, his fratello also refused to speak to Kiku, the Japanese personification, which was also strange. Ever since Feli had befriended the strange Japanese man, and the stupid potato bastard, he would hardly, if ever, come home or quit talking about the damn potato shithead or Kiku. In fact this has been the absolute longest stay his baby brother had in well, forever.
What the hell did the stupid potato fucker do this time?
If memory served him correctly, then Romano was positive Feliciano had avoided the German after WWI as well. Was it 90 years though? He shook his head, hell no it was less than a few fucking days! But then, why hadn't his stupiodo fratello already return to the potato bastard, not that he wasn't glad about that, its just that Romano, if he was being completely honest, hated seeing his fratello so sad. The Damn German threw the fucking Hol-
Nope, promised Ant-Spain, not to talk or even think about it.
Shut the hell up!
He did do little things for Spain and followed his boss' orders every now and then.
Fuck you.
Fucking shitballs he was distracting himself again!
Romano clicked his tongue in annoyance. Right back to the potato bastard...
Ooooh that shitheaded macho man was in for a world of pain!
But he couldn't exactly kill the bastard. His fratello l-lo- mio Dio, his super faggot of a brother loved the damn potato bastard. And Feli would die without the damn German being alive, he almost did once.
Shit!
Damn troublesome potato bastard and fratello.
Romano frowned, it looked like the only way to fix this mess was to get, shitballs he couldn't believe he was say-thinking this but, Feliciano and the potato bastard to talk out their problems. Dio! He felt as though he would grow ill. Just the very thought brought a pair of horribly warm arms wrapping around his body?
What.
The.
Crapola.
Like lightning, Romano's head snapped as he quickly turned his head to stare into the loving gaze of his lov-Anton-Spain! "Chigi!" He heard Antonio chuckle softly and felt himself pressed against a very naked and very wet Spaniard personification. Shit! "Wh-What the hell do you think y-you're doing bastardo!?" His voice did so not crack. Nope, it didn't.
Fuck you, it cracked in a manly way!
Antonio grinned dumbly, like he always did, emerald orbs sparking in amusement. "I wanted to be with you, mi amor." Lips brushed against Romano's ear. "I woke up this morning and you weren't in our bed, so I thought I would join you in your manly shower, ahahaha~"
Romano rolled his eyes, typical clingy bastard.
Still.
It was kinda cute...
Chigi!
"What-the-fucking-ever bastardo, just let me go already." He saw Spain's lips mold into a childish pout, Dio that was so freaking se-so not even fucking going there.
"Pero Lovi! I want to hold you and whisper sweet things to you~" the Spaniard whined not unlike a child who was having his favorite toy taken away from him. Fucking tomato bastard.
"Bastardo, don't say shit like that! It's fucking embarrassing..." the last phrase was mumbled out but he knew Antonio had heard him, the bastard was weird like that. He heard his l-lover hum softly, probably thinking about something stupid and completely gay to say back. Fucking faggot of a bastard. It wasn't meant as offensive, well it was, but not in that way! Shut the hell up!
"Ah, mi Lovi es tan adorable cuando está avergonzado~" He felt himself being turned around, his chest now pressed against Antonio's. Romano's face flushed and he bit back the angry string of curses that were threatening to escape. He refused to look Atonio in the eyes so he found his eyes roaming over his lover's perfectly sculpted body. His face flushed darker when he spotted all the bruises, scratches and bite marks that adorned the Spaniard's body. Yup all those markings were caused by him...last night...them and-
Romano had to stifle a surprised yelp when Antonio decided to attack his neck in soft loving nips and licks.
"A-Ah, B-bastard what th-ahugh-e, hell do you think you're-, mm, doing...?"
"Making mi Lovi happy~ You love it when I pleasure your neck, no?"
Silence.
"Exacto." Smile. The Spaniard leaned closer to Romano's throat, tongue playfully licking down the Italian's body stopping at the boy's midsection. Shit that was fast! "Además, me encanta cuando te hago sentir las estrellas~"
Romano gulped, face red, no wonder he hadn't noticed his fratello's illness or has had made much of an effort to even help.
Fucking Antonio and his damn Spanish charm.
Feliciano Vargas was not happy.
Not one bit.
In fact he really wanted to disappear from the face of the planet right now. He closed his tired eyes, he hadn't been able to have a proper nights' sleep in decades and each passing day made the guilt and pain grow even stronger. He was tired, and these negatively fueled emotions were tearing him apart.
That day was still imprinted, fresh, in his mind.
Italy threw the paintbrush and his half painted canvas to the ground, his face grimacing into one of unbearable disgust. "Mi dispiace! I'm so fucking sorry! Dannazione the day that I agreed to this mess!" The paints he had on the stool scattered onto the already messy floor. Broken, half finished canvas littered the room in an arrange of provoked frustration. All the paintings bore an uncanny similarity.
Blond hair and haunting cerulean eyes.
The Italian clawed hazardously at his hair, whining in utmost despair. "Maledizione! Stupido! Stupido! Stupido! Luddy perdonami, te prego perdonami!" He threw himself i,onto his equally messy bed, whimpering softly as tears continued to freely fall from his eyes. He had screwed up so badly. Why did he have to do stupid things like this? If only he hadn't been so goddamn selfish!
It hurt.
It hurt so fucking much!
But Italy knew his pain was nothing compared to what his German lover had been forced to endure.
Absolutely nothing could compare to what Ludwig had been forced to endure.
Nothing.
Damn the stupid American and the Sove-Russia...
England too...
But what the hell had he, Ludwig's so called lover, done to aid Germany?
That's right, Italy didn't do shit!
He had allowed Germany to suffer during the Cold War, allowed Prussia to become separated from Ludwig and had yet, to this day, been able to grow the balls to speak, let alone face, to the German nation.
Feliciano Vargas was absolutely pathetic.
Coward.
Italy turned around, facing the wall, arms huddled close to his chest, as he heard the door creak open. He did not speak or even bother to turn around, he already knew who it was.
"Get the fuck up you fottuto idiota!"
Silence.
"Che Palle! Italy Veneziano, no-Feliciano Vargas, get the fuck up this fucking instance or else I'll fucking chop your balls off and feed them to fucking stray cats and shit like that!"
There was a slight groan, and murmured words.
"What was that, idiota? Speak louder, I didn't fucking hear you."
Italy sighed, begrudgingly sitting up on his bed, eyes glaring lightly at his older brother. "I said quit bothering me, and get out of my room. I don't feel like listening to your damn bitching. Go bother big brother Tonio, but don't come to me bringing me your crap."
The stupid Italian probably shouldn't have said that. But he didn't realize that. Nope, he didn't. Not one bit. At least not until there was a livid Lovino pouncing onto his weak sensitive bones. Then he noticed.
Yup, noticing things hurt.
Italy howled in pain.
Romano snarled, absolutely livid. "Don't give me your fucking shit Feliciano!"
Punch.
Yelp.
Tug.
Contrary to popular belief, Feliciano Vargas was not one to back down from a fight when he was angry. Rage is such a foreign emotion to him, a strange bitter emotion that he didn't like. Italy wasn't one to fight. He hated fighting. Hell, Feliciano was a goddamn pacifist! The fighting, the anger, the negativity, those were all part of Lovino's personification, not his. But when your brother tackles you and starts beating the living shit out of you when you already feel like shit, well it should be unmistakably obvious where that would lead to.
And Lovino knew it too.
"And you don't give me yours Lovino!"
Yank.
Twist.
Pull.
"Listen to me you maledetto figlio di puttana! Get out of your fucking room and go talk to your stupid potato head of a lover already!" Pause. Romano smirked cruelly, forest dipped coffee eyes shimmered with ill humored malice as his dark lashes lowered in a mocking fashion. "Or are you going to let him leave your life, like you did with Holy Rome?"
Oh yes, Lovino was indeed aware of Feliciano's strange ability to fight back, rather well, when the boy was consumed and overweighed with negative emotions.
Sì, he knew all too well.
And whenever that Feliciano came out to play, he would never admit this aloud but, fear would embrace his persona.
It scared Lovino.
No, it downright terrified Lovino.
And being afraid causes people to do stupid things.
Really stupid things.
So, when Romano realized what he had said, he instantly regretted it.
Italy froze, his arms loosening their grip on his brother's brown tresses. His bottom lip quivered momentarily before his face contorted into one of hideous rage. Violently, Feliciano punched his brother in the jaw. There was a loud resounding smack that echoed throughout the room. Silence engulfed the two soon after.
"Don't you dare go there fratello! You don't understand anything! This is nothing like with H-Holy Rome, I can't, I can't, I can't go to him! I-I did a horr-"
Feliciano was instantly silenced by knuckles connecting violently with his right cheek. He let out a small whimper as his hand quickly came to asses the damage. Lovino was panting, body trembling and eyes dangerously close to watering. "So fucking what? Is that really the extent of your fucking so called 'love' for him?"
There was no response. Feliciano continued to stare at his brother in surprise, hand still caressing his injured cheek. Italy's lips quivered, he wanted to respond. Truly he did. But no words came out. It was as if he was suddenly made mute. Why was it so fucking hard to speak?
"Idiota. Listen Feliciano, and listen good, because I won't fucking repeat myself. I know I don't know exactly what you did to Ger-the potato bastard, and I don't fucking care what you did to him."
Feliciano felt himself begin to tremble. What he had done was unforgivable. He had betrayed his lover in the worst possible way. He had, h-he ha-
"Stop that, and fucking listen!"
The trembling immediately stopped and Feliciano blinked back the tears that threatened to fall.
"You love that shithead, you fucking LOVE that fucking bastard! I'll never understand why but I know that you do. Now if I were in your fucking position I would have went and fucking talked things through with Spa-Antonio, because I love him so freaking much that I wouldn't let some stupid mistake fuck up everything we have! And now look at you, here you are crying your fucking days away, not even bothering to fix the shit that happened. Don't you care about him at all?"
The room once again became silent. Not even the uneven ragged breaths from either brother was able to break the silence that embraced the room. Suddenly, to Feliciano's surprise, Lovino smiled. His serious, rude, angry, fratello genuinely smiled. Eyes glimmering with nostalgia, features painted in pure bliss,Lovino Vargas smiled.
Dio, his brother was so beautiful when he smiled like that.
"Do you remember when Pota-Ger-Ludwig proposed to you on Valentine's Day?"
Feliciano couldn't suppress the gasp that escaped his parted lips. Lovino was thinking about that?
Dio, this was so strange.
It was weird.
How was this-
Lovino interrupted Feliciano's thoughts, his voice deadly calm and mellow. "You were so scared. You didn't understand what was going on, and you felt as though you would betray Holy Rome, should you decide to be with the potato b-Germany. It was funny, actually. But in the end, after rejecting him, rather harshly I might add-" Feliciano flinched at the last part.
"You realized, you couldn't live happily without him being more in your life than just a friend."
Romano looked away, his fists clenched and his bottom lip trembling slightly. He took in a shaky intake of air, voice suddenly hoarse.
"Can you really live your life without him now? Can he really live his life without you?"
Feliciano's lips parted, eyes widening in sudden realization, and just as quickly as they widened did he bolt out of the room. The copper haired Italiano murmured a soft thank you, running past big brother Tonio, and out of the house, his long overdue quest finally beginning.
Romano was left alone in the room, his breathing strained. The moment he felt familiar sun kissed arms wrapping themselves lovingly around his trembling hunched over frame did he finally let out a broken sob.
He cried.
Lovino cried for his idiota fratello, for the stupid potato bastard, for Antonio, for Holy Rome, and for the nauseating feeling that things would only get much more difficult.
Spain did his best to soothe his lover, it wasn't odd to find Lovino crying, what with the man being an emotional wreck daily, but he too felt a strange sinking sensation in his gut. Something told the Spaniard that things would end up being forced to change dramatically. But Antonio refused to ponder further into those thoughts, instead Spain strengthened his embrace on Lovino and murmured comforting words in a mixture of Spanish and broken Italian to his sobbing partner.
What neither of them understood was that things were indeed going to change, and not necessarily for the better. Drastic, catastrophic events would take place, the world would soon convert itself into the stage of this new act.
And they would inevitably be forced to be the unwilling puppets of the upcoming play.
Feliciano ran.
He ran fast.
He had to run.
He had to get to his destination.
It didn't matter that Italy still had to pass Switzerland's border to reach his destination. He didn't mind how his lungs burned wildly with each agonizing step or that his legs grew heavier with each passing second. No, he had to keep running.
He had to get to Germany.
Lovino was right, he had waited far too long. He had avoided the problem completely and now because of that 90 years had passed. Germany had to know that he didn't mean for things to end like they had. No, he was also tricked!
The obnoxious American had lied to him, Big Brother Francis had also lied. And that backstabbing Brit had deceived him as well! Ludwig had to know the whole truth.
His lover deserved to know why he had done what he did. Germany had to know that it wasn't as it seemed. Not everything was-
Shit!
Aye Dio, his chest it hurt. Air was scarce, he could barely breathe. Why did he quit training? Now he was all out of shape! Italy knew that wasn't true though. He didn't do physical exercise for many reasons. Really great reasons, such as being lazy, not wanting to, secretly admiring Germany, petting a kitten, making pasta, and well his shitty lungs did a number to increase not wanting to exercise.
But why would it hit now of all times!
Italy tried to so hard to take in more air but it seemed as though it was all futile. But he couldn't stop. Not no-
Slam.
Feliciano couldn't even let out a cry as gravity cruelly took over, slamming his heaving body onto the ground in one grand thud. Ouch. His face had taken some of the damaging impact, blood dripped down his forehead like a stream of water. Italy groaned, air finally filling his lungs. His legs hurt, and were probably bruised up. His right ankle had twisted awkwardly because of the stupid fall making the Italiano boy frown in dismay. "Merda."
Slowly, Italy made it onto his feet, blood now coating his dirty blue jacket. His pants were ripped from the knees, gaping holes revealing bloodied kneecaps. It hurt, so much, to stand on his right ankle. By the awful feel of it he probably sprained it. The Italiano sighed in bitter resentment but shook his head, copper brown tresses tangled in dirt and leaves.
Nope.
He had to keep going.
With a determined gleam in his watery caramel dipped coffee brown orbs, Feliciano continued on in a slight awkward limping sort of run. Each step continued to burn, mussels tired, body sore, but he continued, praying to Dio to not let him run into Switzerland. Italy was positive he could not outrun the crazy trigger happy man in his current situation, but for Luddy Feliciano would try.
Familiar sea green orbs stared at the limping Italian, a smile gracing her young features. Understanding that time was of value and that things were finally progressing, she held her big bruder's hand and led him away from the house. This action allowed the whimpering Italian nation to pass by Vash's home undetected, successfully making his way into Germany without further unnecessary distractions.
It took a bit longer than he originally anticipated but Italy finally made it to Berlin. Standing timidly on Ludwig's porch, Italy gave out a shaky sigh, lips quirking into an unsure smile.
Feliciano Vargas looked like a complete disaster.
Copper locks tangled, dried blood coating his young face, outfit ripped and torn soiled in dirt all adorned by an odd walk. A complete mess that he was, but Italy no longer cared. Taking a large breath of air, Italy banged his trembling fists onto the door, the loud thuds resounded painfully in his ears.
He was so close.
Lips parted, chest heaving, cheeks flushed and bruised, Feliciano continued to bang his fisted hands against the door until it finally creaked open. He smiled in barely contained victory, falling to his knees in exhaustion. This action had made him miss magenta dipped crimson eyes widen in surprise and glisten in barely containable guilt induced worry.
Feliciano looked up, trying very hard not to look too disappointed. "A-ahhh, Gi-Gilber i-it's a-ahh great to s-ee you, a-ah can I co-" He was roughly cut off by the albino's scratchy voice.
"Ah! Ita-Feliciano what an awesome surprise! How have you been? It's been so long and-" Prussia continued to ramble on, hoping to distract the tired ditzy Italian nation.
Feliciano was completely oblivious to the guilt that laced the Prussian's words, he was far too concerned with a single thought.
He needed to see Ludwig.
Now.
"Gilbert not to be A-aahh rude but can I se-" Once again Italy was cut off by the albino, but he decided to take this as an opportunity to stand up, albeit a bit too slowly. He tried not to add too much pressure onto his right foot.
"Awww but Ita-chan it's been sooooo long and that is totally unawesome because you haven't been in contact with the awesome me and we should really have an awesome chat because that's totally the awesome thing to do and-" And so the tables turn, making it so Italy cuts off the rambling Prussian.
"Gil, I promise we can chat later but right now I really need to talk to Ludwig so if you'll just-"
A hand grabbed his shoulder, squeezing in an almost painful manner. Italy frowned what was going on? Confused caramel drizzled coffee orbs met with nervous crimson orbs. What was the albino hiding?
"Ah, I know this is going to sound totally unawesome but ermm you can't come in, yeah."
Italy frowned. "Why not?"
Prussia's eyes momentarily flickered between the inside of the house and the disheveled Italian. "Umm because it's like dirty and that's unawesome...?"
Eyebrows furrowed in frustration. "That's okay, I don-"
A loud familiar voice resounded throughout the hallway of the German house. It made Italy's heart skip a beat. "Bruder, did you see who it was?"
"Scheiße!"
With Prussia spewing out a string of German curses, eyes wide and hands pulling at his white locks in something akin to despair, Italy took the opportunity to run inside, his heart thudding painfully in his chest.
Germany.
Germany.
Germany.
His lover was here.
He was here.
He was going to talk to him.
Oh, Germany!
"Ger-Ludwig!"
Dull blue eyes met with caramel drizzled coffee orbs, lips parted face flushed eyes widening. Feliciano threw himself into the German man, causing both men to tumble down onto the floor a small grunt was heard from the German nation upon impact with the ground. Italy was so happy. He was dizzy with ecstasy. It was as if he was going to drown in joy.
Germany was here.
His love was here.
He could discuss things later right now he needed to touch, he needed to feel, he needed to hear Ludwig.
His love.
Arms latched onto a pale neck as lips met with the German's flushed cheeks. Italy grinned his emotions dancing in a parade of barely containable joy. Oh Dio, this was bliss. This was what he had been missing.
This was Germany.
His Ludwig.
"Ti amo, ti amo, ti amo. Ludwig ti amo!"
Perhaps if he had paid better attention to the spazzing Gilbert by the doorway or to the tense and frozen in shock German beneath him then he wouldn't have been so surprised of the actions that unfolded after his long overdue display of affection.
But then again, perhaps not.
Italy was roughly shoved off, a flustered blond-blue eyed German spewed out a few incomprehensible phrases in his native tongue. Feliciano frowned as he outstretched his arm to gently touch the blond nation's shoulder. Body tense and rigid, the German nation looked up, eyes meeting with Feliciano's in a hypnotic dance. "L-Luddy what's wrong?" It was whispered, worry laced every word dripping into a sweet delicious dose of wine.
This was too much.
This was insane.
What was going on?
Finally, after what seemed like centuries, the German man shook his head, nervously running his hand through his golden tresses. Lips parted and closed a few times before Ludwig was finally able to phrase back a proper response, making Feliciano's eyes widen in barely containable hysteria, and effectively shutting up the rambling albino.
"Entschuldigung, but who are you?"
A/N- Welp there is chapter 2, what did you guys think?
/Crawls into hole
Yup, okay it was pretty bad OTL
Dio: God
Señor Patito: Sir ducky
Fratello: Brother
mi Lovi es tan adorable cuando está avergonzado: My Lovi is so cute when he's embarrassed.
Exacto: Exactly
Además, me encanta cuando te hago sentir las estrellas: Plus, I love it when I make you feel the stars~
Mi dispiace: I'm sorry
Dannazione: damn
Maledizione: damn
Stupido: stupid
perdonami, te prego perdonami: forgive me, please forgive me
fottuto idiota: fucking idiot
Merda: shit
Italiano: Italian
bruder: brother
Scheiße: shit
Ti amo: I love you
Entschuldigung: I'm sorry
Anyway again Google translate~
NEXT CHAPTER: (Will be posted 1-2 weeks from now) Angry/Spazzy Gil, livid Lovi, Yandere Antonio, sobbing Feli, confused Ludwig, some angsty Arthur and pissed Alfred, and mild fluff!~
