.~.~.~.~.
He was losing his mind. South Italy was convinced of this fact. There was no way this was real.
After he had calmed down, Spain had led him downstairs to a small breakfast of magdalenas, bolos, and fresh coffee. South Italy had watched him like a hawk, confident that any second now, Spain was going to disappear and he was going to regain his sanity.
He was tempted to pinch himself to see if he was dreaming, especially when Spain leaned over to peck him on the cheek when he handed him his cup of coffee.
He blushed dark red and swatted Spain for his trouble with a few choice words thrown in, of course, but decided that pinching himself wasn't a good idea.
Because if this was a dream, he never wanted it to end. A world without Spain didn't feel right at all.
.~.~.~.~.
