From now on, chapters will probably be shorter, just for various reasons(I just wanted to be mean this chapter), but that also means there will likely be more than I originally planned.
That also means that they may be coming out faster too, if college allows me the time. I'm sorry if people don't like this.
…Oh god he had no idea what the fuck he should do. Antonio had…had kissed him and...and spoke to him…then just fucking left him standing there in the doorway of his room. Romano's heart swirled with so many fucking emotions; he couldn't tell what the hell was happening even as he felt his face burn like someone dunked it in scalding water. What the hell were those two arguing about after Romano retreated to his room? He pivoted around, dashing down the stairs in such a flurry that he nearly tumbled down the last few steps and wretched the front door open. "H-holy shit!" Snow, and a shit-ton of it at that, blasted into the opened entryway, drenching Romano in the frosty wind and white flakes. There was a fucking blizzard terrorizing the earth outside, and Antonio was out in that shit? Oh no… he would die out there, even if he did remember to grab his coat before he stormed out and that would only help him if he didn't stay out in the horrible weather for long. Bitter panic settled into Romano's bones. That dumb shit wouldn't go to Francis' or Gilbert's house…no, even Spain didn't do that when he was really angry. The bastard would go to one of the places he claimed to be so special to his heart, and sit there until someone found him; even if it was raining, or thundering, or flooding… Shit, he needed to go after him before he died of fucking hypothermia, but he couldn't go in his current attire, or alone…
Dammit. What the hell would he do? Phones didn't exist yet and everyone he knew lived in the city, which was a good bit away! Romano slammed the front door shut, pressing his back against it before sliding down to the floor; tears pricked at his eyes and his throat burned with the trepidation that fermented in his stomach. He couldn't do this single-handedly…but who could help him? Arthur wouldn't most likely, just from the fact that he probably was still seething with irritation…but…but he had to find that bastard. With a shaking hand tightly pressed against the door, Romano forced himself to his feet, his face contorted with a fierce glare of determination. He wouldn't let this bastard die on him too, especially since he could do something about it this time. Never again would he let a loved one perish, even if it meant he had to risk his own life. "Arthur!" he bellowed, quickly making his way into the dining room, where he last saw the blond male. "Arthur!" Romano shouted once more, his voice tingeing with urgency and anger.
"What the bloody hell do you want!" Arthur yelled back, leaning against the frame of the archway separating the rooms and clutching his head.
"Where would Antonio run off to?"
Arthur scoffed, flinching at a pain that throbbed in the back of his scalp. "Don't tell me you would care about someone who violated you…"
What the hell was that idiot talking about? "Violated! That bastard never touched me!" Well…at least not the way Arthur had accused him of, but Antonio still found ways to make his body squeal in pleasure…such as a simple fucking shoulder rub…which he still needed to repay the bastard for. Dammit, he couldn't do that if he was dead!
"He didn't touch you? Then what in the world were those noises from, and why were you so cautious about being near him!" Noises? There weren't any noi-oh… T-th-hat dream… oh god, Romano must've actually moaned throughout the night from that delicious dream about Spain wreaking havoc upon his deprived body with his hands, lips, and well…that… Spain did always say he sleep-talked when he had good dreams… And when he woke up to find Antonio embracing him so tightly, oh his brain decide to torture him with images of Spain fucking him senseless, and that was one thing he didn't want to think about…that was why he kicked Antonio out of the fucking bed, and scampered his little ass down into the sun lounge... so he wouldn't have to be so close to the bastard who reminded him so much of something…someone he could never have…and so the idiot couldn't cuddle him whenever his face burned a vibrant red just from the sight of his gorgeous, god-like mug. Oh god… did he really just think that?
"T-those noises…" Romano stammered, feeling blood rush to his cheeks. "I had a very…a…a dream and every time I saw that bastard…it reminded me of it."
"A dream!…Ah, bloody fucking hell." Arthur growled, dragging his feet as he scurried across the living area and towards the staircase, stopping at the door to his bedroom. "Get changed, Lovino. The faster we get out there, the faster we bring that git back here. The twit runs fast, so we need to hurry, before he gets too far away."
And with that, Romano scrambled up the stairs, tugging off his nightshirt before he even made it to the door…but he paused once he got to his bed, staring at the cloth in his hands, doubt tearing at the seams of his mind. What if they couldn't find Antonio before he succumbed to the winter…what if it would be too late no matter what they tried? He wouldn't have that bastard constantly adoring him, or tenderly caring for him whenever his body burned with the pain the idiot would never understand…and oh, how he loved it when Antonio would massage his aching hands with those wonderful smelling oils he owned. But now wasn't the time to be reminiscing about how outstanding Antonio was with those nimble fingers of his, he needed to get off his sorry ass and put on some warm clothes. Romano tore through the garments in his closet, desperately searching for the warmest that Berwald fashioned for him, and with a ha in victory, he pulled the thick wool shirt over his head, quickly followed by a vest and a pair of trousers double layered with cotton. He grabbed his work boots and a pair of thick socks on his way out of his room, tugging them on as he bounded down the stairs.
Arthur was slipping on his coat when he reached the bottom, muttering and grumbling under this breath every time one of the buttons didn't fasten the first time, and when he noticed Romano approaching him, he handed the male his jacket. "Any idea where the git would be?" Arthur asked, watching as Romano tugged his arms though the sleeves.
"Somewhere he considers special…I guess." Romano quickly added, growing nervous of the suspicious look Arthur gave him…which he had been doing a lot of ever since he passed out a week before…and it unnerved Romano.
"Why would you say that?" he questioned, narrowing his eyes at the brunet.
Romano fidgeted under his stare. "J-just a guess?"
"How long have you really known Antonio?"
Oh shit… he really did know something was up.
"Your behavior around him, and his around you… it's not normal for people who have only known each other for twenty-five days. You act as if you have loved him your entire life." Loved? Oh god...no... he didn't just say that. Love, of all things? Romano didn't love Antonio...No, he l...l-loved Spain and only Spain. Antonio was just an idiot constantly trying to get his attention.
"I don't know what you're talking about." He retorted, reaching for the door, but Arthur seized his wrist.
"I know you're hiding something. I'm not an idiot like Antonio." The blond haired bastard stated, holding Romano by the arm as he bore those acid green eyes into his skull, prying past the many walls he had set up over the past few weeks...and he struck a nerve, causing Romano to flinch and a cold sweat to gather at the back of his neck. He hated whenever that bastard did that to him. "But...seeing as we have more pressing issues to attend to...I'll let it pass. For now."
Well...Romano was certainly taken back by Arthur's passiveness on the subject...And what the hell were they wasting their time on this shit for! Antonio was still out there in that fucking blizzard being the stubborn, senseless bastard he was! Arthur released Romano, taking a step back as he waited for the Italian to open the main door, although his beady green eyes never stopped staring at him, successfully sending a shiver down his spine. Romano glanced back at him for a moment, unsure if he truly wanted to bare his back to the man...but seeing as he had no other choice, Romano sighed and wretched the door ajar, gasping at how quickly the cold breached his clothing; he stood there momentarily, actually questioning if Antonio was worth going out into a fucking blizzard to make sure he didn't die...
Well, if anything, if Antonio did kick the bucket, Romano's nights would be a lot colder... and he wouldn't have someone to snuggle up to on the couch during cold afternoons to keep him warm during his siesta...or to stare at as he slept...or to make him feel as if he really did matter...God dammit. That bastard relentlessly cared for Romano with every last bit of energy he had, and what did he get in return? Curses, punches and insults... Antonio didn't deserve those; neither did he deserve to die alone in the weather he despised the most...and...and...No...he wouldn't...couldn't think of how he personally would feel. He had to go find that idiot...
It was the least he could do in return for all of the bastard's constant affection.
Romano took a careful step into the foot high snow, thankful that it wasn't any higher at the moment, but it was building very, very quickly, and Arthur followed behind without any hesitation. "Where would he go?" he shouted, not even sure if the blond could hear him.
"How the hell would I know!" Arthur shouted back, slamming the door as he exited the house. "You're the one constantly with him!" ...He was...wasn't he? How did he never notice that? "You said somewhere he held close to his heart, so it should be anywhere you two had something special going on." But there was a problem with that; the only places they actually had any moments that Romano could call even remotely special were in the building behind the two men...This wasn't good.
"Let's try the market. Maybe we could find someone to help us, or ask if anyone has seen him." Romano could barely make out the nod Arthur gave him, but it would have to suffice. They had a long way to go...and a short amount of time to do it.
We need to stay together! If we get separated, it would be easy for one of us to die!
Yeah, if only Romano actually listened to that fucker and tried to stay with him. If he did, he wouldn't be lost in some fucking city where he had no idea where the fuck he was going, he wouldn't be getting confused over the smallest things, he wouldn't be trembling like some cat in the rain with a miserable amount of tears streaming down his cheeks...and he swore his core temperature was dropping at a much faster rate than it should've been. He was a nation, not some weak little human. Why was this shit happening?
Snow blanketed every fucking thing by the time he made it to Nodoln, at least that's what he believed and the sheets that rained down on the earth made it nearly impossible to distinguish a tree from a bench. "Antonio!" Romano called out for what seemed to be the hundredth time, his face already stinging and his voice aching from the icy bite of the wind. Only the gale answered, laughing at him and the desperate mess he had become; it felt like hours since he had lost Arthur, and even longer since he could even vaguely recognize where he was.
"A-Antoniooo!" he cried out at the top of his lungs before choking on his own tears that streamed down his face and collected the passing snow. Shivering like a fucking leaf caught in a hurricane, Romano gathered the coat closer to his body in an attempt to conserve what warmth he had left, not that it really mattered; the cold couldn't kill him, but damn if it didn't make him hurt like a bitch...but that wasn't his main problem at the moment. "Antonio! Where the fuck are you!"
He still had no reply... More harsh, jagged coughs tore their way out of his throat, ravaging his lungs and his stomach as each bore tiny black dots into his vision, forcing him to blink multiple times before his sight was clear again. This wasn't good...oh god this was not good. It wouldn't be much longer until he passed out from the lack of heat, and the storm was only getting worse and worse. "A-Anton-nio!" he barely managed to scratch from his throat, feeling the strength leave his legs with each wobbly tread through the knee-deep snow. God, his fingers felt like they were about to fall off, and the same could be said about his toes but he had to keep moving. Romano screamed out that name again, pausing as the harsh wind blasted his ears with its arctic fingers before crying out the same thing he'd been howling for an eternity, but as each echo received no reply, the willpower that had been the only thing keeping him going cracked and slowly morphed into desperation and deep, utter confusion.
Why was he out there in the cold...
Where was he...
No...no he had to remember that curly haired bastard and find him before he...he...
Who was he looking for?
...Antonio...
Romano took a step forward, stumbling and falling into the wall of snow at his feet. Dammit...it was fucking cold and it clung to him when he attempted to drag himself back to his feet.
By now, his eyes burned from both tears and the icy knives stabbing them, blurring what little sight he had as he trudged on into deeper and deeper snow and away from the blobs of grey that he hoped to be buildings... "Anto...to-tonio..." he slurred, no longer having the voice to screech at the top of his lungs, or even half of their capacity. "Ant-tonio you bast-tard..." White...white was all that Romano could see...in front of him...behind him...below and above. Where am I... he wondered, letting out shallow breaths against every gasp. He blinked, staring down at his numb fingers, barely able to make out the blistering red of his skin spotted with white, blue and yellow through the curtains of ice. Bringing them to his face, he kneeled into the snow, unable to move his legs any further than the ice encasing them...strangely enjoying the coldness on his skin. It dampened the desperation raging in his body, calming him...soothing him with its hypnotic appendages, and he wanted to be closer to it...
To have it covering his entire body...
To have...
Ha-ve..to...
To...An..to...
...
...
"..and those are the demands of the newly established Spanish States. The moment that the specified nation is next seen, he is to be taken into custody. Any questions?" Germany droned on and on, losing the attention of England in the process. Everyone knew of those silly demands of the humans in charge of the Spanish States, as every named the new cluster of countries, and quite frankly, nobody really gave a damn...Well, except for a few other nations who actually cared for the poor lad...unfortunately, England was not one of them, yet he still had to deal with daily annoyances of certain people he'd rather see dead. Such as that frog; France. Ever since Romano's disappearance, he'd been acting stranger than normal...random trips out to Belarus and Russia, avoidance of Italy, an overabundance of visits to the Spanish States... and his perversion calmed to a level that could actually be compared to Canada's... England definably was not the same as these younger, ignorant nations, and could clearly see that he was altered...actually, he was acting the same way months before Romano left the planet. It was a bit strange, and disappointing that no one had pointed it out yet...but England just didn't care. He was too busy dealing with the state of Europe's economy and helping America with his...well, that and prying into Romano's life on a daily basis, only to find the dolt alone or with a younger version of Germany...which Italy actually became jealous over the first time.
Speaking of that overly happy idiot, he was actually very quiet as of late, even though he was looking healthier and healthier each passing day...well the personification anyway. The weather was still out of control, along with the mafia down in Sicily and Calabria, who, by Italy's words himself, had an atypical ally aiding them in their search for Romano, who apparently had more of a hold on them than he let on...but he also mentioned that their ally knew Romano wasn't on this planet...without ever telling him who it was. Damn how Italy always avoided giving him vital information.
England sighed, leaning heavily on his palm as he listened to America's pathetic attempt to help the world with his stupid plans. On, and on and on the child would go...never fully noticing that England and perhaps Germany were the only ones who ever paid attention to him, and stupidly accepting their silence as compliance to his idiotic plans. He could be such a tit sometimes... "Yo..Dude.." America suddenly stopped his tirade, staring off to the left side of the room. "Are you... Are you okay, man?" Now that certainly had nothing to do with his speech before...England followed America's eyes to the spot directly under the eastern window, and a chill instantly settled over his skin.
Italy..oh Italy...
He was shaking horribly; his chocolate eyes wider than he'd ever known they could stretch, and he was clutching his heart with so much force, it was amazing that he wasn't tearing his shirt in some way. He opened his mouth...but only a screeching groan escaped his lips as his eyes rolled back in his sockets, exposing the white sclera surrounding his irises. "F-f-fratell-l-lo" Italy stammered out, his face slamming down on the table over and over, as his shoulders and arms convulsed with every gasp escaping his lungs. Germany was already at his side, attempting to calm his body while the other nations stood in a panic, each having no earthly idea what was going on. In the corner of his eyes, England noticed France slip out of the room but it really didn't matter at the moment. Something very, very bad had happened to Romano...and he needed to know now.
As discreetly as he could, England slip the phone out of his pocket, frantically messaging the only other person, besides Italy and himself, who knew about the location spell locked away in his basement, and thankfully had nothing to do with the meeting England was currently stuck in.
Go check on Romano now. Italy is having what looks like a seizure and this could mean something terrible has happened. Report asap.
The message sent with a flash illuminating his fingers, and with that, he slipped it back into his pants, turning his attention back to the convulsing Italian. He continued to spew out nonsense, not one word making any comprehensible sense to the Briton. "Rom-m-m-a-n-no èmo-mo-mortooo"
England frowned, piecing together the jumbled words.
Romano è morto...
Morto... in Latin..that was a lot like... his eyes widened.
Oh god...
Romano is dead.
