She knew she couldn't hide from her papa's decision. She knew that even if she stayed in her own country, Spain would simply come retrieve her. She knew that there was no avoiding marrying Romano. She knew there was a slight chance that they could actually have a decent marriage together…
What Guatemala didn't know was Romano's view on the whole situation.
About a week after her visit with Cuba, Guatemala received a phone call from Spain inviting her to come visit him at home. His usual cheery tone sounded quite forced and a bit shaky, but Guatemala didn't notice: she was distracted by slight anxiety the moment Spain said he wanted to discuss her engagement in person, with Romano. After informing her boss that she'd be gone for a bit, she boarded an airplane (not a high tech one, but an airplane nonetheless) and flew over to Spain's country.
The closer she got to Spain's home, the more uncomfortable she felt. Every step she took and sight she noted caused memories to surface. A familiar face made her wonder how that person was doing, and who else was still around; a rundown store she had shopped at in the past brought up the question of when its business decreased; a neighbor's garden reminded her of the one she'd worked on with Spain; a stray animal had her recall old pets she had cared for; mostly, walking up Spain's unchanged dirt driveway made her remember when she'd seen him return home from war for the first time. She smiled very slightly at the memory: the moment he walked in the door, she bombarded him with punches and screamed at him for letting her be afraid he died, yet the second he picked her up she covered his cheek with kisses and hugged him tightly.
Biting her lip gently, Guatemala grasped the brass knocker on Spain's front door. Before she banged it against the wooden door, her peripheral vision caught sight of a bull grazing in a distant pasture. Was that the same one Spain'd had all those years ago? Her heart began to race inside her chest. Oh, Lord, she hadn't been there in so long…. She had run away when her physical age was around 5; now that age was about 20.
Eagerness overcame her conscience and Guatemala swung the door open without knocking. "Papa Spain? I'm here," she called feebly. She flinched, since she intended there to be confidence in her tone. No response came; however, she heard male voices coming from the living room. Guatemala stepped across the kitchen (This place hasn't changed at all… Spain is so old fashioned, she had thought), inhaled a deep breath, held it, and opened the door to the living room.
"No means no, stupid bastard!" Romano was shouting. Spain looked close to tears.
"But Roma, I can just see you two being so compatible-"
"Well that's YOUR opinion, idiot! The whore might be going along with it, but I don't want no damn wife!" Guatemala cleared her throat loudly, the accusation of being a whore making her blood gradually begin to boil. Romano turned his furious gaze to her, and his demeanor seemed to deflate like a balloon. "Oh, c-ciao, Guatemala…!"
"Look, I don't know what Spain told you, but I'm not exactly thrilled with this little surprise either," she spat, crossing her arms and striding over to the two men. A very slight blush tainted her cheeks. It had been about 2 years (according to their physical age, at least) since she'd last seen Romano, and time had been good on his looks. What a handsome young man he had turned into… Especially with his caught-off-guard expression and lack of a grimace.
Guatemala's words seemed to perk him up just a bit. "So you won't let this wedding happen either? Buono! Now I-"
"I never said that," Guatemala interrupted. She raised a finger at the Italian as he gaped at her. "I know you come off as a dick, but I'm sure you've got a reason for acting like that… Some, I dunno, inner insecurity or something." Romano glared at the ground uncomfortably as she said this. "Maybe we would suck as a married couple. Then again, maybe we wouldn't. How can we be sure?"
"Because you're such a babe!" Romano spluttered.
"Excuse me?" Guatemala drawled. Romano started shaking slightly. From anger, embarrassment, or fear, nobody could tell.
"You want honesty, right? Women are all over honesty… Well, I'd sit on my ass all day and have youdo all the housework, sweetheart. I wouldn't smile for you, I'd give you as much shit as I give everyone else, and the most husband-ish things I'm willing to do for you are eating all the food you make and exploring the bedroom department, if you know what I mean." Despite the brutally honest things he was saying, Romano's face was burning red. There was something about this forced fiancée of his that made him spill everything he was thinking… Nothing he knew about her, though, made him want to be her husband.
For a few moments, Guatemala just stared at him in shock. "I appreciate that you're telling the truth, but… I can assure you, Lovino, that you'd be straightened out after a month with me," she finally hissed.
"Well you're not going to get that month, Silvia I think it is? It's nothing personal really, I just refuse to be tied down. Especially not if this dumbass," he nodded sharply at Spain, "arranged it! I'm not marrying you, and I'm not marrying anyone. Find some other bastard to stick your precious little daughter with, Spain!" He glanced at Guatemala, something like sympathy flashing across his amber eyes for just a second, before he stormed out of the house.
It was silent between Spain and Guatemala for a good 30 seconds. "I… I'll take it you don't want me to find anyone else for you?" Spain murmured. Guatemala shook her head slowly, irritably running her fingers through her curtains of black hair.
"No, gracias… I think I'd like to pick out my own husband." She offered a meek smile. "Arranged marriages are decreasing more and more in my country, people are starting to choose their lovers now…"
"Si, I understand," Spain whispered. He kissed Guatemala atop the head and offered that she stay for lunch; she declined as politely as possible, hugged her papa gently, and swept back off to her own home. There weren't tears in her eyes, but for God-only-knows-why, Guatemala's heart was crying.
"He said what?" Cuba boomed after listening to Guatemala recite what happened with Romano over the phone.
"Come on, you heard me… Don't make me repeat it," Guatemala muttered. She had already told the story to America a few minutes prior, but figured it'd be best not to inform Cuba of this.
"No, no, I won't… I feel crappy enough that you had to experience it once. Look, Sil, I'll take care of this," Cuba told her in a low voice. Using Guatemala's human name showed one level of sincerity, but using her nickname showed an even higher one.
"Huh? Carlos, what are you gonna do?" she questioned, blinking repeatedly. Cuba waved his hand dismissively on the other end of the line.
"Don't worry your pretty little head. I'll just take care of this, alright?"
Guatemala furrowed her eyebrows suspiciously. "Alright…" she sighed.
"Bueno. Adios."
Guatemala nodded. "Adios…" She hung up the phone, feeling a combination of curious, concerned, and eager.
Across the Caribbean Sea, Cuba was also hanging up his phone. "What type of lowlife says that type of shit to a girl like Guatemala?" he growled, storming outside. Crowds parted as he made his way down to the boating docks- everyone knew to stay out of Cuba's way when he was angry. "Take me to southern Italy," he shouted to a boat's captain.
"America! What the hell are YOU doing here, you dumbass!" Cuba shrieked after banging on Romano's front door for about a minute. The spectacled country had pounced up the steps of the porch, determination blazing in his blue eyes.
"My total BFFL Guatemala has been having some probs with this square, so since I'm the hero, it's only natural that I come to, heh, solve the problem!" he exclaimed, letting out his signature laugh afterwards with his hands on his hips.
"How did you know about-? Oh forget it!" Clenching his teeth, Cuba brought his flip-flopped foot against the wooden door and kicked it out of its hinges, America's obnoxious mirth only fueling his anger. "South Italy, Romano, whatever the HELL your name is, get your pathetic ass OUT HERE!" Cuba demanded.
"What, what! Why are you he-" A devastated shriek escaped Romano's mouth, the vein in his temple pulsing even harder. "YOU BROKE MY DOOR!"
"Well YOU broke a fine maiden's heart!" America countered, obviously trying to pull off a heroic voice. Cuba rolled his eyes.
"What're you bastards going on about?" Romano hissed.
"You hurt Guatemala, so now we've got to hurt you. And just so you know, YOU'RE the bastard," Cuba barked. The two countries backed Romano against a wall, blocking out his rapid protests. By the time they were done with him (well, Cuba did most of the punching, America just laughed "encouragingly" for a majority of the time), Romano would probably be sore for half a year.