I hated myself most. Hell, I still do, and I don't know why but I couldn't love Antonio. I couldn't and it was for him, not for me, for him.
Truthfully, I was sick of myself. So, I made it my duty to avoid myself- however fucked up that sounds.
I'd royally fucked up. I knew the morning that followed was hell and I wasn't willing to relive that. My outright refusal didn't make much of a difference. One blink and I was thrown into another time and place.
At first, I thought it was another meeting but there weren't enough nations present. It must have been something personal, but I couldn't-
"Happy birthday!" The shout rang throughout the room in several different languages. All were directed toward the, lucky, soul who had just walked through the door.
Feli.
He blinked, actually opening his eyes in surprise. Don't ask me why he keeps them closed, I don't know. It seems pretty damn dangerous walking around with them closed. He has really nice chocolate eyes, so I don't know why the hell he wants to keep them hidden. I once asked him if he was embarrassed by them or something. He told me he kept them closed because 'it was cuter'. I couldn't see the logic in it.
Feliciano launched himself at potato bastard, wrapping his arms around him. I wanted to gag. That bastard was just trying to take advantage of mio fratellino. I know how German's are!
"Grazie Luddy! Grazie!" It took me a moment to figure out what the 'grazie' was about. It took me even longer to get over my suddenly upset stomach.
It was his birthday, well, our birthday. Feli and I weren't twins, but we shared a birthday- I was the oldest, and I didn't let him forget it.
"Ja, ja…" The bastard was blushing more than I would, which is easy because I don't blush. Then, it hit me. I wasn't there. Why wasn't I there? I scanned the gathered faces.
America, England, Japan, Cuba, Canada and his bear, France (who the hell thought that was a good idea?), Hungary, Austria, some bastard with a ponytail, and a rather pretty girl with glasses. I was pleased to see Antonio wasn't there. I mean, I was glad he wasn't anywhere near that French bastard, because he was dangerous and you never know what those two will do if they get-um- drunk or angry and-yeah… I didn't really care.
The party went by as most do. Dancing, presents, chatter and cake. There was even gelato and pasta. I really wanted some of the gelato. I hovered near Feli and the potato bastard for security purposes.
"Vhy didn't Romano come with you?" Eww. He said my name. His accent made it sound almost as fucked up as he was.
"Fratellone said he didn't want to." No, I didn't. I would have remembered turning down an invitation to my own birthday party. I would have made it bitchier too.
"Oh." Germany accepted the answer with a nod, rushing off to try and stop albino bastard from spiking the punch. I didn't miss the smile mio fratello gave Germany's back. Why wouldn't Feli want to tell me? Did I do something to him? Sure, I was mean to him…usually. But I was nicer to him than I was to anyone else. Of course I was! He was, well, mio fratellino. I had to be.
Feli and potato bastard didn't go home together because someone had to escort drunk-off-his-ass albino bastard home or he'd lite someone's car on fire. Roderick looked worried.
"Ve~ Fratello, I'm home!" There was no answer, meaning I was either asleep, or at Antonio's. Feliciano poked his head in my door only to find a made bed. "Fratello?" The dumbass. Where did he think I was, in the pillow?
Feli pouted and continued down the hall. He stopped at my study. It was our study, but he had no reason to use it. I handled the political part of our job. Feli wasn't good with numbers. He didn't continue past my study upon discovering I wasn't there as I expected him to, no, he went in. Feliciano made a beeline for my desk, plopping himself down in the pivotal chair.
For a second, I thought he was just going to spin around in it. It seemed like something he would do.
Feliciano started rummaging through the papers stacked on my desk. I couldn't comprehend what was happening. Sure, I was aware that Feli had just as much right to the papers on my desk as I did, it was just that I didn't think he cared. As frightening as it was, I didn't trust him in that moment. There was something determined in his eyes, something dangerously close to a look I had seen once before. I had tried to make pasta…
Apparently, Feliciano found what he had been looking for. It was a stack of correspondence letters and documents from, surprisingly enough, Germany's boss. I didn't remember those papers, and as soon as I saw Feli fold them up and slip them into his pocket, I knew why.
Why would Feli steal papers from my office?
It hit me harder than the time I was smacked in the back by a chair Denmark had thrown at Sweden.
I was wrong; I hated mio fratello most.
