50. Correlation Does Not Imply Causation

Date Written: April 5, 2019

Date Posted: April 12, 2020

Characters: Veneziano, Romano

Summary: Veneziano confronts Romano about his relations concerning another Nation.

Notes: After all the votes, I have come to the conclusion that I will extend this series for another fifty chapters. It was a unanimous vote and I would like to thank all of you for responding! Without you, this series would not have come this far. Here's to another year of Veneziano and Hetalia! :D


Veneziano had his fair share of smarts and creativity from years as the forefront of commerce and the King of the Renaissance. He had birthed a number of scholars and artists, thinkers, and doers. Changers of the world, masters of their own fate. It was a little known fact nowadays, at least to his peers, but he was quite advanced in the mathematical arts, philosophy, and other branches of knowledge.

It was just that Veneziano just happened to use his intelligence for… less than intelligent things.

For example, he really shouldn't be taking note of his brother's relationships, but, well…

It was just an inkling of an idea, a problem to consider. It just seemed that whenever Romano spent more time with a certain person or people, he became more—

"You bastard! Are you so far up north that you can't listen to your brother anymore?"

Veneziano looked up from his scattered notes to catch his brother staring at him. In response, Veneziano dropped the pen that he had been chewing in the middle of absent-minded thought before granting his brother a small smile. Almost immediately, Romano straightened his back and the fine hairs on his neck began to stand on end. There were times when Veneziano looked self-aware and there were times when he looked like God personally spoke to him.

Romano didn't want to find out—many enemies were put out of their misery because of Veneziano's epiphanies.

"You know what? Forget it." Romano began to stalk out of the room, but not before he heard his brother clear his throat.

Now, the Southern Italian had two options.

One, he could stay and listen to his inconsiderate bastard of a brother.

Two, he could leave and enjoy the rest of his afternoon with a bottle of wine.

After a moment's hesitation, Romano whirled on his heel and dropped into the seat in front of his younger brother. His eyes, dark and filled with mounting anger, bore into his brother's own.

"So, are you ready to listen to your elder now?"

Veneziano hummed, a lazy smile dancing on the edges of his lips. "Perhaps."

Romano did not like that look. Not at all. He had witnessed that same look on his brother's face whenever they had sparred together and it always—always—ended up with Romano kissing the ground or facing the tip of a fencing sword only centimeters away from his throat.

Still, Romano needed to get some information from his brother concerning matters that were strictly from the northern part of their shared territory. As he began to pull up some documents that he saved onto one of the apps on his phone, he didn't realize that Veneziano was looking at him with something akin to sly interest in his face.

Finally, when Romano managed to get to the right document, he tapped on the icon and began to scan through the contents. Ah, here it was. It had something to do with brokering trade with a few countries that they had previously not been too acquainted with. It was something that Romano himself didn't have enough experience to handle on his own, so he figured that he would get his brother's advice before sending some kind of proposal to their boss for further inspection.

"Anyway, some countries in Southeast Asia—"

"Ah, international business?"

For some odd reason, Romano believed that Veneziano seemed a little too interested in this matter. With a raised brow, he glanced at his younger brother; Veneziano's face was cradled gently within his hands. There was that stupid grin on Veneziano's face that either spoke of unimaginable terror on Romano's part or something so utterly stupid and ridiculous, Romano would have no choice but to disown his younger brother.

The North didn't need Veneziano when Seborga could easily take his place.

"Yes." The Southern brother replied slowly. "Obviously. What, did you have some countries in mind that you wanted to discuss?"

At that, Romano knew that he had stepped into the trap that was invitingly laid out for him from none other than his brother himself. This was the point of no return and Romano was teetering at the edge of a cliff with a drop that would land him into an inescapable abyss. It was a blank, all consuming void that would lead to nothing more than pain and regret. As adrenaline began to pump through his body and his heart began to race, Veneziano spoke again.

"Actually," the younger Nation leaned ever so slightly in his chair—an action that had Romano swallow thickly in discomfort. Was he going to rag on him or something? "Actually, dear brother mine, I would like to discuss something that has been on my mind for quite some now."

"Define: 'quite for some time'."

Veneziano's smile began to grow even larger.

"A few decades or so. It's just been niggling at the back of my mind like a puppy nipping at my heels."

The imagery, as cute as it was, did little to deter Romano's suspicion. Regardless, Veneziano did little to offend him—aside from that stupid, smug smirk of his—so he was going to listen to him. For now.

"Okay? And?"

Veneziano's smile seemed to grow even wider.

"I'm not sure if you noticed this, but you happen to smile a lot. On the phone. When—"

"Veneziano, if you're going to say what you're going to say, you better not say it."

The younger Italian, knowing all too well the hell that was sure to greet him after he was finished saying his sentence went ahead and said it anyway.

"Have you ever considered that maybe, just maybe, you know…"

"The more you pussyfoot around the issue, the harder I'm going to beat your ass later on for wasting my time."

Veneziano may or may not have pouted, but pushed forth with his interrogation anyway.

"You ruin the fun out of everything… But are you interested in Spain?"

"Politically or—?"

Romano may have been hedging at this point, but he was honestly terrified at what his stupid little brother was getting at.

The Venetian simply smirked at his brother in a way that hinted at all the knowledge that he happened to have.

"No. Just… no. Whatever ideas you have, cast them away like the plague because—No."

"Why is it that whenever Spain gets into trouble you're always there for him? Or whenever you two talk onto the phone you seem so much happier? Or—"

Romano slammed a hand onto the tabletop, not really caring that his hand smarted. He looked down at his brother, anger brimming in his eyes and a shadow passing over his features. Even while he was seated, his gaze made it seem as if he was towering over him. As Veneziano's Adam's apple bobbed up and down in barely concealed fear, Romano spoke.

"We are friends. Nothing more, Veneziano. Now drop it."

Veneziano opened his mouth again as if to retort, but Romano beat him to the punch.

"No, you're not listening to me. Hell, when have you ever listened to me?" Romano glared at Veneziano until his younger brother slumped over his seat in defeat. Satisfied that Veneziano would shut up for once and whatever theories that he could have possibly had, Romano continued.

"Spain," Romano breathed out with the force of someone who was just so tired and done with everything, "is not interested in me and never will be." His figure trembled just the tiniest bit, but his voice carried with a strength that was often associated with war speeches and boosts of morale. "I don't know how you got this idea that Spain and I could possibly be… whatever you think we could be, but we aren't. Just. Drop. It."

For a moment, so stunned at the outburst, Veneziano could only fidget with the paperwork that he had dropped onto the table.

After a moment's contemplation, with his voice soft and wavering, "But what makes you so sure that he's not interested in you? Have you even tried?"

"Why don't you answer me this: what makes you think that someone would even like me? I'm not—I'm not—" Tears began to gather at the corners of Romano's eyes, but he refused to let them fall. Not now. Not in front of his brother.

Arms, warm and slender against his steady frame, wrapped around his shoulders.

"Look, Romano… I just thought…"

"Here's the thing, Veneziano," Romano muttered. He pushed his brother away and stalked out of the room. "You don't think."