A/N: A few spelling errors needed to be fixed. Hong Kong's Cantonese human name has been changed to "Ka Lung", as AquaEclipse has informed me that it's the proper Cantonese name.

Egypt hands the book over to Greece, who looks down at the page and begins to read.

"Dear Diary,

Today I gained an awesome new bruder! I'd deny it if anyone were to ask, but I'm a bit scared - just a bit! I've never been very good with other people, much less taking care of them. I don't want to mess this up and have him end up hating me.

Ha! Imagine that, someone hating the awesome Prussia!

• Gilbert"

"If it's any consolation," Germany speaks up. "You were, nein, you are an awesome bruder."

"Danke Luddy!" Prussia smiles confidently at his younger brother, feeling relieved.

"You've definitely improved from your Teutonic days," Hungary comments.

Greece snickers as he reads the next entry before sharing it.

"Dear Diary,

I've spat in England's tea at least fifteen times now, but it's not that entertaining anymore. He never notices it!

• Leon / Ka Lung"

Chuckles and outright laughter fill the room, practically drowning out England's indignant shouting towards his son.

"Relax pops," Hong Kong says, effectively silencing England, who wasn't expecting for Hong Kong to address him as his father so soon. "It's over and done with, yeah? Don't get so worked up over it old man."

As England splutters, trying to think of a comeback, the book is passed on. This time, it is Cyprus who receives the book.

"Dear Diary,"

All attention is called to the Mediterranean island nation.

"Though our union has long since been terminated, I find myself longing for our marriage once more. Remembering the countless nights that we spent in each other's arms, the whispered promises and confessions. It has been nearly three centuries since we've parted, and yet my heart still aches for him. I still wear our ring on a chain around my neck, and every day I feel as if it's weight is a crushing force on my heart. How I long to wear it on my finger once more, to lie with him once more, to hold him close.

"I remember our parting clear as day. Seeing him on the other side of the battlefield crushed me. Fighting against him was as awful as taking a sword to my own heart. I am glad that I lost, that I did not have to deal to him a final blow. I am equally glad as well that it was not he who struck the finishing blow, for I do not think that either of us could have borne that pain.

"Marrying another was not the same. Though I care for her deeply, Elizabeta does not hold my heart, she never has, not the way he did. Only one does, after all this time. Through centuries of warfare and peace, of hatred and kindness, of death and rebirth, there is only one person who I truly love. My Setting Sun, my Antonio.

• Roderich"

Not for the first time, silence is the only immediate reaction to a diary entry.

And then the tears begin.

The mighty Spain, the once fearsome Spanish Empire, has been reduced to tears by this diary entry. He sat in his chair and cried, leaving the other nations, especially Austria to sit in shock. Austria himself can feel the sting of tears behind his eyes.

Spain's face is covered by his hands as he cries, shoulders shaking. Austria's face is tight, and it's clear to anyone who knows him well that he is restraining himself from doing something. In this situation, it's likely comforting the crying Spaniard sitting a couple meters away from him. Instead Austria stares at Spain, a soft, vulnerable look in his eyes as he waits to see what the tears bring.

Next to Spain, Romano scoffs lightly, but can be seen rubbing the Spaniard's back as a gesture of comfort.

"Tch, tomato jerk," Romano mutters to Spain. "I told you that the stupid Austrian still likes you."

Spain's reply is a wet chuckle. No one but him had heard Romano so those that heard the chuckle look to Spain in confusion. The Spaniard ignored the looks as he stands shakily, bracing his hands against the table. With tears still rolling down his cheeks, Spain begins walking around the table, undoubtedly heading towards Austria.

As the other approaches, Austria turns his chair, his eyes following Spain's movements closely. Spain stops in front of Austria's chair, and smiles brightly despite the tears on his face. He holds his and out for Austria, who takes it and stands as well.

Spain pulls Austria into a tight hug, the two burying their faces into the other's shoulder. Each can feel the wetness of the other's tears seeping through their clothing. They stay like that for several moments before parting.

As they pull away, Spain cups the right side of Austria's face in his left hand. Austria tilts his head into the touch, looking intently into Spain's eyes, and moves his right hand to place it over Spain's left.

"Rodrigo," Spain speaks tenderly, smiling at Austria. "Mi amor."

"Antonio," Austria breathes. "Mein liebling,"

Spain leans in, and Austria lets him. Their lips press together passionately. Austria loops his arms around Spain's neck, who cups Austria's face with both hands. The kiss conveys the words that neither can say.

As they pull apart, there are wolf-whistles, clapping, and cheering from the assembled countries. Austria blushes at the reception, but Spain just smiles brightly and laughs. Soon Austria is smiling too as he looks at Spain.

They go to sit again, but instead of Spain returning to his seat between Italy Romano and France, he chooses to sit with Austria. For now, the two share Austria's chair, sitting together in the large chair, their legs overlapping.

Neither can bring themselves to care about the discomfort though.

A/N: Can you tell that I love this ship? Because I love this ship will all my heart and soul.

If you don't already know, I have a SpAus (spainxaustria) Oneshot out right now called "Behind The Chapel" and its the first in a series in writing on the side.