L'Italia di Lovino
Part X

Warnings: Language
A/N: I LIED! /turns blue and grows a moustache/
About two things, actually. One, I obviously did not finish this chapter before school started. Two, this isn't the last chapter. One scene lasted much longer than I'd anticipated (which may or may not be a good thing, depending on how quickly we all want this to end). This would have gone up yesterday, but my mom and I moved out of our house and into a condo about a week and a half ago and we have no internet. I'm at my dad's house because I have homework that requires the internet, so yes. I have no idea when we're getting cable either...But enough of my self-pity; enjoy the chapter!

He cleared his mind of all thoughts, knowing full well he was going to have trouble sleeping. They had researched and planned and prepped him, and within one week, he was deemed ready. Spain, however, knew that no amount of studying could make him feel the confidence he assumed he would need. He wanted to be prepared for this night, this one night that could determine if Lovino lived or died.

England, France, Prussia, and America's presence downstairs certainly didn't calm his nerves. They were there, England had supplied, "in case something happened." Comforting. The Brit had told him he would come up to check on him later on. He'd found some sort of spell that helped one focus in their sleep enough to control it and their own actions, as long as they didn't break the illusion of a dream. "If you do, it will simply startle you into consciousness," he'd explained. Spain sighed. In that case, there was no pressure. It all came down to how the hell he was supposed to find a way into Romano's mind and convince him to wake.

England cleared his throat, breaking Spain's concentration. "Remember, you git. Find the Romano in your dreams and talk to him. He should be able to lead you to the real Romano. But don't let him fool you into staying, or you may end up in a coma as well. He's just as lonely as Romano is, I'm sure. Just do what you can, and," he blushed a bit before muttering, "good luck."

Spain nodded, mind churning with all the extra complications, and lied down. He heard the lights flicker out and door close softly before he plunged into a spell-induced sleep.

oOoOo

A brush of wind swept through his hair, gently urging the Spaniard to wake. Spain's eyes snapped open and he sat immediately, taking in his surroundings. Tall grass and wild flowers incased him and tickled his senses, vivid pinks, purples, and greens gracing his vision. The sound of trickling water nearby caused him to stand. He frowned when he looked up—the sky was completely white. How weird, he thought, but shook it off. It was a dream, and he knew how strange dreams could get. At least this one seemed peaceful.

He made his way towards where he assumed the water was when he saw a small figure by the bank, drawing underneath a nearby tree. Their back was towards him, but he could make out auburn locks and a single flyaway curl. He warmed at the sight.

"Lovi!"

The boy turned. Spain's smile dropped.

"Ve, ciao, Spain! What are you doing here?" a bright Feliciano chirped. Spain paused. This is weird. What's Feli doing here? Could it be an effect of the spell?

Italy jumped up, dropping his sketchbook, and ran over to him. Spain accepted a hug, half-heartedly returning it. It was nice seeing him, but he had much more important things to deal with at the moment. "Hola, Feli. Can you tell me where Lovi is?"

The young Italian's face contorted in adorable confusion. "Who?"

"Lovi…Lovino. Your brother," he replied hesitantly.

Italy giggled, nuzzling Spain's chest affectionately. "Silly Spain! What are you talking about? I don't have a brother!"

Spain's heart sunk and he began to panic. What the hell is going on? England didn't tell me about anything like this! How am I supposed to find Lovi if he's not he—

He suddenly found Feliciano's face much closer than he felt comfortable with. Frightened, he shoved him back. Italy tilted his head, a worried look painting his features. "What's wrong, Spain? Don't you want me anymore?"

For reasons he himself was unsure of, Spain glared angrily at Italy. What was he trying to pull? He wasn't about to let this dream fool him. "I'm not fucking around, Feli. I have no clue what you're talking about, but where is Romano?" he demanded.

Italy flinched visibly at his harsh tone. "Spain…please don't yell like that; I'm sorry. We can talk this over, mio amore, and—"

"Mio amore? Feli, we're not…Lo siento. I like you, but not like that. And I'm sorry for snapping at you, but I really, really need to see your brother." Spain calmed a little, sobered by Italy's heartbroken expression.

Feliciano stayed silent. It took Spain a moment to realize the look of sadness was changing. The Italian's lips twisted into a nasty sneer, his eyes narrowing deeply. And the color…Soft caramel paled to rich olive, flecks of flaming hazel circling the irises.

"Lovi…"

Romano turned and ran back to the tree, took one pleading look at Spain, and jumped over the edge.

"Wait!" Spain called, running after him. He looked over the grassy ledge, where he expected to see a creek of some sort. Instead, there lied a pool of thick silver, churning and winding and draining into a sky-blue ditch in the center. Spain swallowed nervously. He had to follow Romano. Dios, Lovi, couldn't we have stayed here? And why in the world did you pretend you were Feli?

He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and jumped.

oOoOo

Spain blinked, dazed. Sunlight warmed his body, but thankfully something was shading his face. Romano was standing over him, one critical eyebrow raised.

"What the hell are you doing? Get up and help me with these tomatoes, ya lazy bastard!" Romano scolded, standing back and letting the sun properly blind the Spaniard.

Spain sat up slowly, the uncomfortable feeling of lying on the hard, dirt ground seeping into his spine and lower back. And then he simply stared at Romano.

His Romano, here in the tomato fields, whining and complaining and insulting him, secretly enjoying their accidental touches and the mere fact that they were together. This was what he missed the most. It was peaceful, quiet; the problems of their homes or the world not able to pierce the serenity. Just the two of them.

If he didn't get Romano back, he could never feel that peace again.

"H-hey, bastard, I…I didn't mean it, y-you can rest if you want…d-don't cry…" Romano said uneasily, dropping to his knees and awkwardly placing a hand on Spain's shoulder.

Spain wiped away his tears. This all felt too real. He had to get his Romano back, but he couldn't startle this one.

"Don't worry about me, Lovi…S-say, um…Could you take me into your mind?"

Stupid, stupid, stupid!

Romano growled, drew his fist back, and swung. Where Spain expected to feel a sting in his cheek as he'd felt before on his back, he felt…nothing. He knew it should have hurt. Dammit…I'm becoming too aware of my dreams now. I have to hurry.

"Lovi, that hurt!" he whined, feigning pain, and even letting a tear spring forth. Romano glared and picked up the tomato basket, starting to walk away. "Lovino, wait! Lo siento, come back!"

Romano stopped. Shoulders shaking, he turned towards Spain. "Why should I? You're just going to leave me, and you know it! Why can't you just stay with me and pretend this is real?" His voice softened to a whisper. "I can be just like your Romano."

Spain's heart was torn in two. How was he supposed to deny Romano? Sure, this was a different one, but they were completely identical. So much so that it hurt. What could he do? He had to find some way to appeal to him. Wherever this Romano had come from, he was stuck in Spain's dreams alone.

Is mi Lovinito alone too? he wondered. Romano stared at him strangely as he got lost in his own thoughts. His demeanor became sour once again. "Oi, bastardo, what are you thinking so hard about?" he huffed, folding his arms.

Spain blinked. Could he be right? He had no real proof, but if his assumptions were true…

"Romano." Said Italian frowned at the use of his country name. "What if…what if there's a Spain for you too?" Spain moved closer, tilting his head hopefully.

"What the hell are you talking about? You're crazy."

"Wait! I mean, you're here, in my dreams, so who's to say there isn't a Spain in Romano's head?" he tried to reason. Even if he was bidding him to take him to Romano, he truly hoped there would be someone waiting for this one. No variation of the Italian deserved to be lonely.

Romano's interest was piqued; Spain could tell. The way his eyes widened and quickly trained themselves to the ground, the way his shoulders lifted, the way one shoe scuffed the dirt nervously. It was all too familiar. "You're just saying that so I'll take you. Don't get my hopes up, jerk."

"No, Lovi, I'm not! I promise!" Spain relented. "I really want you to be happy. I always want you to be happy." With that, he smiled gently and took one of Romano's hands. "I swear you won't be alone."

A radiant blush settled on the younger brunet's face, but he didn't pull away. "H-how can you be so sure, bastard?"

"I can't," Spain shrugged. Other Romano looked up in surprise and irritation, only succeeding in causing the Spaniard to laugh. "You're just going to have to trust me."

His next words were mumbled so quietly that Spain wondered if they had been his imagination. "But what if you're wrong?"

Well, what if he was wrong? What was Spain supposed to do then? He couldn't lie and say he would stay. But…he couldn't be wrong. He vaguely remembered strong arms that resembled his own, holding Romano, dragging him back into the depths of a deep sleep… "I'm not wrong. He was there; I saw him!"

"I know he's there."

…What?

"Dammit, I know. I just…I just wanted to see if you would…what you would do…"

"But why didn't you go back to him sooner if you can do that? He must be waiting for you, you should have—"

"Don't you think I fucking know that?" Other Romano snapped, his eyes watering in a pitiful rage. "It would have been useless even if I could, Spain. How the hell do you think Romano would react to that? You think he would be happy to see the other Spain and me together? I couldn't. The minute Romano left your 'empire,' your hearts grew distant and I was forced to stay with you. Other Spain has been reacting violently within Romano's mind since, trying to make him realize he was miserable without you or some shit. When Romano died he tried to help him as best he could, and he still is. Guilty conscience or something. He couldn't even come to terms with the fact that Romano was an adult when he first saw him again. The last he'd been able to see him was when he was a kid—After that, he didn't want to watch Romano change." Frustration and sorrow quelled the anger in his tone, a thin blanket on the flames. The real Spain and Romano had no idea what they'd been through. These embodiments, the subconscious connections of their love and souls, could only see each other from a distance. Not since Romano's parting words from the empire had they touched or laughed together. Although they desperately wanted to be with one another, their hearts were no longer intertwined. Too much bitterness. Too many grudges and unanswered questions.

The biggest question, of course, the one Spain asked himself nearly every day, was Why? Why had Romano left him all those years ago? Did he feel Spain weakening? Why wasn't his home—always open to the Italian—good enough? Spain knew these questions were unfair, but that did not stop the Spain in Romano's head from plaguing him with them. He wanted Romano to need Spain. To care too much about how he felt and what he said; to love him overwhelmingly. He had gotten what he wanted, Romano's embodiment thought scathingly. The idiot.

"I, for one, didn't want you to suffer. Of course you missed him and wanted him back, but I never interfered with your thoughts or dreams until Romano died." At this, he blushed. "I know the dreams I gave you were too goddamn simple and random to give you any clues, but I'm not used to manipulation. I did what I could, and…w-well I…"

Spain nodded encouragingly. "You what?"

Dream Romano turned away in embarrassment. "I was too afraid to talk to you. The other Spain is a lot more straightforward than I am, not to mention loves manipulating and confusing people."

A flash of anger ignited in Spain. This other Spain had been purposefully making Romano suffer? It was unforgiveable. He would find him; he would protect his Romano…But he realized something with a start.

"He…he's how I used to be, isn't he…?"

Romano nodded slowly, watching with remorse as Spain slumped to the ground, ignoring the cloud of dirt that was kicked up as he did so.

He didn't want it to be true. They'd told him it wasn't his fault Romano had taken his own life, but was that all there was to it? Could he help his past feelings? His personality? Spain always tried to forget who he'd been; young, foolish, selfish, bloodthirsty. It didn't suit him now. He'd had no idea it could affect Romano so much—that was his deepest regret.

"Lovinito…Lo siento, I'm so sorry…" he mumbled, covering his face with his hands.

He heard a soft thump! and lifted his head to find a hand clumsily placed there. Romano smiled sadly.

"You need to let your Romano know that you have your own weaknesses. I get it now." The hand slid down through Spain's curls to his cheek, a gentle touch that warmed him considerably. "I…I'm sorry for trying to get you to stay here. I just miss him so fucking much but I couldn't go without you, a-and I'm still scared…"

"I guess I have to…But what is it that you're afraid of?" Spain asked, touching the hand against his cheek.

Romano buried his face in the Spaniard's shoulder so suddenly that he jumped, but the younger man didn't seem to notice. "Him."

Spain pulled him closer comfortingly. He hoped he could do this with the real, more irritable Italian soon. "Why are you afraid of him? Did he hurt you, cariño?" he asked with genuine concern.

"N-no! Of course not, dumbass. I just…" He blushed again and shook his head. "What…what if he doesn't love me anymore…?" he managed to mutter, hiccupping at the end.

The sudden noise that escaped Spain's throat at that moment surprised the both of them. It was a deep, rich laugh, full of affection and sureness. One he hadn't let out in far too long.

"Oh, Lovi, don't even think about worrying over that. He would never stop loving you. I would never stop loving you."

Romano's eyes widened. "I…d-dammit…" Face fully on fire, he gave Spain a quick peck on the forehead before standing. "Let's go," he mumbled as the Spaniard beamed a decade's worth of sunlight at him.

A/N: Unless I change plans again, the next chapter will be the last. But who knows. I go off on things sometimes. Just a question for all of you: Is there anything you still feel I should clear up more? I've explained most of what I wanted to explain about the "other" Spain and Romano, but if you're still confused by something, let me know. I'm far from experienced with writing, so I would appreciate any helpful feedback to know where I stand with reader comprehension. I obviously know what's going on and I want to make sure you do too (to a certain extent, of course). If it's something you're not supposed to know or understand or something I'm going to explain later, though, I'll let you know. Thanks for reading, favoriting, and subscribing! I would love and appreciate any reviews as if they were my own grandchildren. I will, in fact, bake them internet cookies.