Romano was so shocked that for a moment his brain couldn't even register what was going on. His brother...his little brother was kissing him! And not in the sweet on the cheek brotherly way either, this idiot was really going at it with passion, his lips pleaded to be caressed back.

Romano's eyes fell shut, it had been so long since he was kissed that he actually started to kiss back, imagining that it is Spain and not his brother. That was all before a sense of moral outrage set in and the older of the two pushed Veneciano off of him so hard that the younger was almost propelled off of the sofa.

"What the fuck is wrong with you Veneciano?! Have you gone crazy too?!" Romano fumed in Italian, standing up and glaring down at his brother. "We're siblings for Gods sake and whats more I'm..." It didn't much seem like it anymore, there not being much of a relationship there but since they had never actually broken up... "...I'm dating Spain."

"I know..." Veneciano replied in their native tongue. "You just looked so upset, I wanted to make you happy again."

"By kissing me?!"

"I didn't know what else to do." Veneciano looked down at his feet pathetically, regretting his decision so much that he was crying yet again.

"Pervert, do you get off to incest or something?!" Romano continued to yell, before storming off, cursing each and everything about his little brother, until he reached his room where he slammed the door both open and shut before throwing himself down on the bed.

For a moment he just laid there before noticing that the fabric under his face isn't his covers. Getting up on his knees he sighs when he sees why, picking up the shirt he had been laying on and pressing it to his face before plopping back down again. It still smelt just like Spain. Since the Spaniard no longer needed his clothing, it had all been shipped here to Romano. Feeling sad and pathetic as he cried, Romano had searched through all Spain's clothes until he found something that smelt of him still. Something Romano could keep close to him, or perhaps put over a pillow, and use to pretend that Spain was still here by his side.

There truly wasn't a moment he didn't regret his decision to put Spain away, but it was for the Spaniards own good. Who knows what could have happened if he hadn't been receiving real care? It was hard to imagine but the way Spain was now was a lot better than he had been when Romano had had him taken away. What could have caused Spain to get like that? If the doctors couldn't see what then Romano surely had no hope of figuring it out. To him everything had seemed fine.

"Romano..."

"Go away!" Romano threw a pillow at Veneciano who had come to apologize once more, it didn't hit him as for once he was smart enough to close the door as a sheild. Romano laid back down with that shirt that held a scent so uniquely Spain and listened to the slow sad footsteps of his brother retreating.

It was true that the older twin had become very lonely in the absence of his lover, but he wasn't that desperate for contact...yet.

In his lonely white room Spain woke up, he had been dreaming, dreaming about his Romano, how that monster of a man had ripped the child to shreds with his bare hands. Sitting up he pressed the balls of his hands to his eyes to try and stop the tears. Thank God the doctors had been so good as to bring him back to life, and now he was more talkative again, which made Spain very happy.

A hot flash of pain erupts in the corner of his skull, momentarily blinding him. "Que...?" He mutters, not sure if the pain was real or imagined it had come and gone so quickly. As if determined to torment him his memories of that day start to filter back through. But wait...that isn't Romano in his lap, its just a doll...just a doll being ripped to shreds by...by the real grown up Romano.

Spain holds his head in confusion, gritting his teeth hard and grabbing handfulls of his own hair. He didn't know what was real and what was fake any more, it made him want to scream again so he did. He screamed just as loud as he wanted, hitting his head against the wall that his bed was pressed against until he felt the hot wet ooze of blood and laid back down.

Where ever his Romano was, Spain hoped he was okay and that the Italian was thinking of him with a smile.