FMH Ch 3
Wails and sobs sounded through Spain's estate. A couple of employees ran to see what the commotion was about.
"Oh, please go back to your duties: This is a troubling time for Romano's brother," Spain gently informed them. They left their master, and Spain, carrying a tray of lemonade, cookies and ripe tomatoes, quietly entered the living room.
Italy was crying in Romano's arms. His brother had tried to calm him down, wanting to find out the problem, while trying to make Italy sit up so he wouldn't cling to him.
"Okay, now try and tell me why you're crying." Romano demanded tiredly for the umpteenth time. Spain walked over.
"Romano, you need to show more compassion when someone is in pain." He offered Italy the snacks and beverage. Italy refused them with a shake of his head, and Romano grabbed a few tomatoes, shoving Spain with his foot.
"Compassion my ass." He glanced back at Feliciano, biting into one of the tomatoes "What happened?"
Italy sniffled and sat up a bit, attempting to say what was causing him to cry. "I w-went back home 'cause G-germany was cleaning. I wanted to help."
Romano stuffed his face with another tomato; he had finished off the first one during Italy's blubbering.
"Yeah, and…?"
"Well, he looked mad and scared and….I don't know, just not himself. Prussia was with him and I think they were talking about something 'cause Germany dragged Prussia into the other room, whispering something."
"Whispering, Feliciano?"
"…Maybe a little more than a whisper."
Romano nodded, "Contin—"
"Compassion, Romano~ " Spain lovingly reminded from across the room.
"SHUT UP!" He turned and nodded to his sibling again.
"So I wanted to know what they were talking about, you know, spy-style, and all I heard was something about Germany becoming the 'laughing stock'.
"When I started to ask about it, h-he told me to leave….." He started sobbing again, "he y-yelled at me…"
Romano stopped eating. "Look, he was probably in a bad moo—"
Italy dived into Romano's arms again, wailing—"Germany hates me now! I bothered him and he hates me! Brother, I don't know what to do!"
Tired of his crying, Romano got up.
"Fine, you want to know what to do? Let's go over there and kick that potato bastard's ass!" He bravely announced.
"But Germany is stronger than us; he'll beat us to a pulp and eat us for breakfast," Italy interjected.
Romano sat down depressingly, "Yeah, you're right."
"Why don't you go talk to him?" Spain suggested from his corner of the room.
Romano gave him a dirty look, but acknowledged the comment. "Alright! Come on, Feli. Let's go see him."
