Romano came back to consciousness in a strange living room. Two figures hovered over him, but he couldn't make out who they were. He tried to speak but it came out like a string of nonsensical mumbling.

"He's back. Why can't he speak?" said Feliciano's voice.

Romano tried to get up, but a big and strong hand pressed against his chest, forcing him to lay down.

"No, don't move," said a deep void.

"Ugh, potato bastard," said Romano.

Somewhere to the side, Italy laughed. "He's alright then!" he said, cheerful as ever.

"Where am I?" asked Romano.

"You're at Germany's house. You fainted while we were at Spain's house," said Italy.

Romano gasped, and sat up. "Spain. What-"

"Don't move!" cried Germany, steadying him by placing a hand on Romano's back. "You're too weak. Have you eaten anything?"

Romano shook his head. Too tired to even speak.

"Stay here, I'll bring you something to eat," said Germany.

"I'm not hungry. I want to go home," said Romano, slouching.

Italy sat down next to him. "Fratello, Germany said that Spain was here yesterday. He went out with Prussia last night," he said.

"What? Why did he come here?" asked Romano. He was too weak to make sense of anything. "Did he say anything about me? He must be so-" a wave of dizziness hit him and he fell back on the couch.

Italy caught him and made him lean against his shoulder. "You need to eat something first. We're still trying to find Spain."

Romano nodded. He realized he could not go on like this. He had to confront Spain, and the sooner the better.

Germany gave him a mug with warm milk. "Drink this. I'll call France now to ask if he has seen them."

Romano took the mug with no resistance, which made Germany frown in concern at him, but he said nothing, and went to the phone to call France immediately.

It rang for a long while before France picked up.

"Mon Dieu, do you know how early it is right now, you brute?" asked France with a groggy voice.

"France it's almost midday."

"So early!"

"It's Tuesday!"

"Argh, alright. What do you want?" cried France.

"Are my brother or Spain with you?"

"Should they be with me? Then yes."

"France it's important! Something happened to Spain, and-," said Germany, when he felt Romano's cold hands pulling the receiver away from him. He was so surprised, he let go of it.

"France," said Romano with a cold, firm voice. "I need to find Spain. I need to find him now. Have you seen him since yesterday night?"

France swallowed. "What happened to him?"

"I did something horrible to him, and I need" his voice broke, but he composed himself. "I need to find him. Is he with you?"

"No. No mon cher, he is not with me, but I'll find him for you."

"Thank you France."

"But, just one thing. I won't ask you to explain anything now. I can hear how distressed you are. But please remember that I have known him for two thousand years, and I have never seen him love anything more than he loves you."

"No, he doesn't France. He never loved me," said Romano, and hung up.

Romano breathed deeply and walked to the door. "I need to find him," he said, reaching for the handle. Italy tried to stop him."

"No, fratello. Please, you need to rest and eat something first. What if you faint again?" he said.

"I won't. Get out of my way," said Romano, and pushed his brother away from the door.

Two strong hands lifted him from the ground, and he screamed when he felt himself being heaved over Germany's shoulder like an undignified sack of potatoes.

"You need to rest. France and I will look for Spain and my brother," said Germany, carrying him to the guest bedroom. He set Romano down gently on the bed, and Romano barely had enough strength to try and hit him.

"Fucking bastard," cried Romano.

Germany pulled a blanket over him. Italy came into the room with the mug of warm milk Romano had left in the living room.

"I'll go cook you something nice. Stay here," said Italy, and went back down to the kitchen.

Germany sat on the bed next to Romano.

"Go away," said Romano, inching away from him as far as the wall next to the bed would allow him.

"If I go away you will try to escape. Drink that, and I'll leave you alone," said Germany, with the tired tone of someone talking to a four year old throwing a tantrum.

Romano huffed, but drank the milk anyway.

They sat together, with only the sound of the rustling blankets between them.

"If you wanted to help me so much you would be out there looking for them," muttered Romano, sick of the silence in the room.

It wasn't the comfortable silence he used to feel when Spain fell asleep next to him on the couch because he was bored of the movie they were watching; but he never said anything about it, because Romano loved movies without any explosions in them. And if there were no explosions or fight scenes, Spain grew bored of having to sit still in silence.

If Romano thought about it, there were a lot of things that Spain didn't like, but they all seemed so small at the time. He didn't like the dishwasher Romano had chosen, he didn't like that Romano put his books back in the shelves when he left them out, he didn't like the way Romano made coffee. And if Romano had paid attention to all those little things, maybe he would have realized that he also didn't like Romano himself. He would have realized, he was sure of it. Before he had done something like this.

"We'll find them" said Germany, as if stating a fact. "To be honest, all this has a strange feeling of unreality. I would have never thought you two would ever have such a big fight."

"We didn't. I…I did something very bad," said Romano.

"I know," said Germany, nodding.

"No, you don't know. It was…terrible."

"Italy told me while you were unconscious."

"What?!" cried Romano. He almost spilled the rest of the milk in the mug. "Fucking Feliciano, I can't believe he-"

"He was beside himself with worry. I could barely make out what he was saying. I worried he might faint at any moment too."

Romano looked down. "Hmp. Still, it's not something he can tell to anyone. Lest of all you. God, I never…I really never…," he couldn't bring himself to say it.

"I always thought you two had already had sex, to be honest," said Germany.

Romano threw the rest of his milk over his head.

Germany jumped off the head. "What are you doing?!"

"I have never hated you more than now," said Romano, in a cold detached tone. He was too exhausted to be angry anymore.

Germany took a deep breath, and went to the bathroom to clean himself. Romano looked at the door, and vaguely considered running out of the house, but he would probably not get very far, and Germany came back quickly, still toweling milk off his hair. With that concerned expression and his hair down, he reminded Romano of Holy Rome. He hated being reminded of him.

He had been on Spain's house when Prussia arrived to stay the night, carrying a little coffin with him.

"You can't keep him Prussia! You have to let go of him!" had said Spain that night. He had sent Romano away and locked him in his room, but he hadn't listened. He knew Germans were dangerous, and no matter what Spain said, he wouldn't take his eyes away from Prussia.

So he had hidden in a corner in the shadows.

And he had seen Prussia open the coffin and cradle the little body of the Holy Roman Empire in his arms. Crying.

"He can't be dead! I don't want him to be dead!" said Prussia through the tears. "He was afraid. He died afraid, Spain. I can't leave him now."

Spain had paced from one end of the room to the other. He hadn't even wanted to see the body. Romano himself felt repulsed by the sight of it and grateful when Spain forced Prussia to put it back in the coffin.

Romano had cried in silence, feeling the burning tears fall down his face. It was a horrible sight. He hated that coffin. It was as if death itself could tear the life away from him. Every minute he spent hidden there, he felt something dark and cold calling out to him from the confines of that coffin.

Spain could feel it too. Romano had seen it in the way his green eyes turned pale when he looked at Holy Rome's dead body.

"You can keep it, but how could you bring him back?" had said Spain, pulling Prussia away from the coffin. "I have never seen something like that. Our bodies must be returned to the earth Prussia. They have to."

Prussia had refused to bury Holy Rome, and the next day Spain left with Prussia. He didn't mention anything to Romano, and Romano in turn had never said anything about that night.

But when Prussia appeared just a few years later with a brand new little brother. All blue eyes and golden hair, Romano knew. Feliciano never saw anything into it, but Romano would never forget that night.

"You look like an idiot with your hair like that," said Romano, and hid himself under the covers.

"I wouldn't have had to rinse my hair if you-" started Germany, but his phone rang.