A/N: So, my wifi was being it's usual bitchy self and I couldn't update. XD Lo siento y gracias por su paciencia. ;3; ( I accidentally lapsed into spanish, but I'm not going to change it. =u= )

Disclaimer: If it was mine, your parents would worry for you.

"You bastard!" The outburst didn't come from me, not this time.

France and England were working very hard to constrain a rabid Alfred. The American looked beyond furious.

If you'd ever known an American, you'd know they're very patriotic. They had the largest celebrations, greasiest food, and craziest parties. They loved their country, their people, and their land.

Like wolves, they had a pack mentality; I was a dead man walking.

Bombs had been planted and detonated in the American embassy and consulates of Palermo, Rome and Naples. It had Americans in an uproar. The bombings were followed by strangely strategic assassination attempts on the secretary of state during his recent trip to Florence. It was supposed to be a personal vacation, but it ended in the death of his wife and youngest son. An emergency meeting of congress had been called to discuss the 'terroristic acts'. I wasn't a terrorist. I didn't want to hurt anyone.

America had officially declared war on Italy.

It was beyond my grasp at the time. I didn't know why the usually hyper, happy American had launched himself across the meeting table to get at my throat. Even after a shaky England had explained the most recent occurrences to me, I didn't believe it.

It took less than a month.

When countries go to war, tensions rise. We personifications weren't allowed to kill one another, but the malice was there in fleeting glances and biting remarks.

If only it had stopped there.

Two weeks later, Switzerland was invaded by allied Italian and German forces. No one saw it coming, not even me. Switzerland was neutral, well, it was supposed to be. I hadn't agreed to a rendezvous or any of the alleged attacks, but they were happening. I couldn't deny it any longer, so, I immersed myself in it. Belgium was quick in announcing its neutrality, followed by Holland.

Liechtenstein was secured for strategic armory purposes. France was growing restless, its citizens fearing a repeat of the Second World War. It wasn't like the Second World War though, it was random. There was no one race being targeted, no power crazed man looking to conquer the world. It was war for war's sake.

Anger bred hatred, hatred bred violence, and violence bred anger. It was an endless cycle, pulling nearly every nation into its dance. If you didn't know the steps, you tripped and were walked all over. There was no such thing as neutrality. It wasn't allowed.

Belgian forces had allied with the German-Italian forces, sweeping across Europe. Russia remained secure, the German generals too hesitant to risk an invasion of the global superpower. Planes were sent to scour the frozen nation, picking out key locations.

I didn't want to go to the meeting. I was in the middle of a war with nearly half the room.

I could see there whispers cutting through me, making me antsy. I cast several glances over my shoulder, on edge. Antonio's presence by my side was comforting. Nothing would happen to me if he was there…not while he was there.

The meeting proceeded so much more stiffly. You could cut through the tension in the room. My eyes drifted over the faces. Quite a few were regarding me in abject hate. America was the worst. There was no doubt in my mind he, if given the chance, would put a knife in my back.

There were two Italies.

Feliciano and I were both Italy. He the northern half, me the southern, but we were both Italy. No one recognized that. Even though they might say they did, unconsciously, they didn't. When there was some semblance of peace in the world, no one cared about me. They loved Feli. They pampered him, coddled him, and gushed over him. They ignored me.

Everyone loved Italy. They loved Feliciano, because he was Italy. But now, everyone hated Italy, so, they hated me. I was Italy too (I always had been) but it had never been so convenient for them. Who could hate, attack, beat, or rape Feli? He was so cute, so sweet. I wasn't cute or sweet. I could be hated, attacked, beaten… They could take out their anger on me.

I'd finally gotten my wish; they acknowledged me as something other than 'the southern part' or Feli's brother. I was finally Romano Italia, and I was hated for it.

I wanted to be ignored.

I sunk further down into my chair with every report, trying to escape the increasingly accusing stares, the passive insults, the heartfelt declarations of hate. I didn't notice Antonio's back straighten beside me.

"-One particular detonation succeeded in leveling a hospital near the American-operated radar base in Ramsbury. I regret to inform you that none made it out...alive." England's voice was venomous, his eyes accusing as they sought mine out.

"I hope you're proud of yourself."

"Pride had nothing to do with it." All eyes that had previously been flickering between England and myself swiveled to Antonio. I could tell by some of their expressions, this was the first time they'd seen him with anything other than a smile on his face.

"You'd do well to remember that, Arturo."

"You'd do well to retain that pathetic neutrality, you're so proud of, while you can." Two sets of green eyed glares were locked in dangerous contemplation.

"Arturo, if you have a problem with me, then by all means compadre-"

"Oh shut your bloody trap you wanker. You're just trying to defend the sick bastard! He couldn't live with being ignored, the inconsequential wanker, he had to start a bloody war!"

The room went quiet, even more so than before the argument had begun. A thick chill swept over the room, worse than the time America had called Russia a 'Commie'. I didn't dare look anywhere other than the floor, too afraid of what I would see.

"We all make mistakes, Arturo, but if you make the mistake of saying something so untrue again... I'll score your eyes out with your bloody nails and shove them down your throat so you can watch me rip your esophagus out." He finished with his usual cheery smile, contrasting perfectly with the look in his eyes. Antonio wasn't a conquistador anymore, but he could still invoke the same unquestionable respect (fear) that he could during the inquisition.

He was doing it again. Just like when I was younger, he was taking all of the barbs thrown at me in stride. He was prepared to be my rock. He wanted me to lean on him, to be there for me. He met the eyes I avoided, glaring back with just as much spite. He bit into his tongue with each word spoken against Italy, trying to remain neutral in the debates. He'd already failed..

England didn't look at me; it was because Antonio was there to hold his gaze. He kept those hateful acidic eyes off of me, distracting them.

London had been bombed the day before; Big Ben wasn't so big anymore.

I'd leveled a hospital. There were children and elderly and mothers who would never hold their bambino's, who would never hear their child cry. People who were learning to walk and function again, people stronger than me. I'd killed them in the most devastating way possible. Crushed and burned to death by a crumbling building. They must have tried to escape, must have screamed and scrambled, abandoning those who couldn't leave their bed. It was all in vain. They would die too. They did die. I could still see their faces, charred and misshapen. Their eyeless sockets trained on me.

I was a murderer.

"Are you alright Lovi?" Antonio's voice was worried, his gaze sympathetic as he wrapped an arm around my hunched shoulders.

"Fine." I wasn't fine. I was dying on the inside. I wanted to scream and cry and beg for forgiveness all at once.

"No you're not. Come on, Boss will get you something to eat. Why don't you stay with me for a few days?"

"I don't want to." I did now. I wanted to wrap my arms around him too and never let go. I wanted to throw myself at him. I would have pleaded guilty to every haynes crime imaginable if I could just touch him.

"You're not going to make things better by blocking everyone out." I turned to him, surprised by his straightforwardness.

"You're wrong."

"About what, Lovi?"

"I don't know, everything, bastard! S-shut up! Just… Just leave me alone." I hated how broken I sounded.

"I'm here if you need me." He promised, smiling cheerfully at me. I hesitated then shrugged him off in what looked like annoyance.

"I won't."

I did. I was surprised by how many lies came out of my mouth. Everything I said was said with something else in mind. What might happen, what could happen, never what was. I should have told him the truth. Antonio didn't follow me as I walked away.

I should have looked back. I would have seen how fake his smile was.