32. The Drive

Date Written: March 1, 2019

Date Posted: October 26 2019

Characters: Veneziano, Romano

Summary: On a drive to Austria's house, an argument arises.

Notes: Part One of a three part series.

It wasn't supposed to be a long drive, just a short one from one city to the next. They would sometimes do that; they would leave a text for their bosses that said, No worries, we just want to go out for a little while, and then pack up their car with a few essentials and drive. On most days, they would travel from one of their cities to the next. Other times, they would decide to visit their neighbors for a quick get together.

As far as they were concerned, they had all the time in the world and it was very rare for to be in each other's houses for too long. Every decade and a half, give or take a few years.

The brothers decided to go visit Austria's house because of two reasons. One, Veneziano wanted to know how to take better care of his violin (who better than the world's oldest violinist?). Two, Romano was marginally okay with spending some quality time with the stuffy, aristocratic Nation. However, just when they had crossed the border, there was a sudden popping sound and—

"Is the car exploding?" Alarmed, the northern half of Italy immediately parked their car on the side of the road. Much to the amusement of his older brother, Veneziano quickly hopped out of the car as if he were on fire to survey what had happened.

To his utter relief, the car was not exploding.

To his utter despair, the car had just happened to have a flat tire.

"Veneziano, you're an idiot." Romano walked out the passenger side to survey the damage. Just like his brother said, there was a flat tire. It was a sad thing to see. "Well, we're fucked."

While Romano was indifferent to the whole incident, his younger brother paced along the side of the road, phone in hand. The northern brother whipped out his cell phone and began speaking in a weird mix of Italian and German to presumably Austria. As he talked, his spare hand began a series of hand gestures that illustrated just how seriously sorry he was. Sorry about everything, Austria, but really they hadn't announced the trip, kind of spontaneous, you see—

The elder brother, not wanting to listen to his brother's apologies, leaned against the side of the car. Honestly, it was kind of his fault. Of the two, Romano was the one who was supposed to check the pressure on the cars every so often. Even though Veneziano was more accustomed and efficient at engineering and manufacturing, he was still a scatterbrained moron. So yeah. Definitely Romano's fault in this context, but it wasn't like he was going to admit it.

After a while, silence filled the air. The sky was dark, the lights from their car the only thing that could light up the expanse of the land. It didn't take long before Romano felt his brother sidle up to him that belied a hint of uncertainty that his brother did little to hide.

"Romano?"

"Bastard."

"I've got some good news and bad news."

Romano gave his brother a murderous side glance. "And I wanted to eat pasta, but someone decided that we should eat polenta for breakfast."

Veneziano smiled briefly. "Austria is willing to drive out here with a spare tire...but we have to treat him to dinner."

Romano raised and eyebrow. True, he had a temper at times, but Veneziano made it seem like something terrible was going to happen. Geeze, Veneziano acted like he couldn't handle bad news!

"Really?" Romano shrugged as he leaned against the side of the car. " That sounds like good news to me."

"Ah, Austria gets lost easily."

"So we wait a couple hours. I thought ahead and packed some food just in case." He even brought a couple of their wines, but decided that he would let Veneziano eat his food on his own. "No worries."

Veneziano tittered. It was an altogether annoying sound during this circumstance, but in the dying night, it sounded forced and fake. It was a harbinger of death. A bad omen.

Romano tensed for the inevitable.

"Germany is accompanying him."

Ah. Now everything made sense.

Without sparing his brother a glance, Romano walked over to the trunk of their shared car and pulled out a bag in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other. Satisfied with the pickings, he slammed the lid of the trunk down and began walking in the opposite direction of their destination.

"Romano, please!" There was the sound of rushing footsteps and a few panting breaths.

The southern half of Italy stifled the urge to smile. Sure his baby brother was known to be flighty and quick on his feet, but really, who was the one who taught him to be quick? It certainly wasn't that no-good Austria. Still, burdened as he was with the choice in food, he suddenly found himself facing his brother.

"Hey, I'm not stopping you or anything." Romano still walked without a care in the world. On the other hand, his brother continued to face him; was it really that hard to jog backward? Romano would try doing that, but A) he was still holding his wine and B) he wasn't willing to stoop down to his brother's level. "You're free to see the demon potato eaters on your own. I'll just eat by myself."

"Romano!"

"Veneziano, I'm not in the mood. Let me be."

This time, when the younger brother urged him to stop, there was a smoldering flame of ire in his eyes…which were heightened by the presence of tears.

If Romano wasn't too religious, he would have stated only Jesus himself to strike him down. There was absolutely nothing that could stop Veneziano from getting what he wanted when he employed tears and the eyes. Ugh. Manipulative, cheeky little bastard.

"I know you don't like Germany, but—"

"Literally. Not. Stopping. You. Bye."

"—we're practically family! If not family, then really good neighbors and really good neighbors would have fun together!" Veneziano halted in his steps abruptly. Fortunately for Romano, he was more than well versed to his brother's underhanded tactics. Without even trying, he neatly sidestepped him and continued to stroll down the road.

At that point, the duo were several meters away from the car. Any further and the car would be cloaked by the darkness of the night. It would be at the mercy of thieves. Good, Romano thought viciously. Perhaps Veneziano would come to his senses and go back to guarding the car.

Or, an even better solution: his brother would follow him back home.

No matter how long it would take.

A plea, broken and gasping struck through the darkness.

"Don't you care?"

Romano continued walking.

"Why are you like this? Why are you always like this?" At that point, Veneziano uttered a name that Romano hadn't heard in almost a millennium. It was his human name, the first one gifted to him by their predecessor, the Great Roman Empire. It was such an old, archaic name, the one time Romano would ever see or heard it was with old texts.

To say that he was stunned into both silence and into stopping was an understatement.

He practically skidded the toad—just how fast was he going?

He whirled around to face his brother, arms swinging with the sudden momentum.

"Why? Why am I like this? Why don't you try asking yourself that question? Besides, you're their neighbor! You're the one who wants to talk and eat at their place!" At each question, and exclamation, the older Italian stalked towards his brother. But—oh! It was times like these where Romano wished that they were back in the past when the world wasn't so big, when politics wasn't such a sandbox of idiocy. Oh, how he wished that he still the advantage of height over his brother.

Still, the sheer amount to hurt and panic that someone made itself evident in his voice was enough to cow his younger brother. Yes, his half of the house wasn't as strong. Yes, he wasn't as nearly as talented as his brother. And, yes, he wasn't socially accepted at his brother.

But, hell would freeze over before Romano would let Veneziano walk all over him before he pulled rank—Did Veneziano forget that he was far older than him? Centuries were drops of water to a Nation, but there was still respect to be had.

"I…I just—I wanted—"

"Wanted what? To have fun, drink their worthless beer, and talk like nothing's wrong with the world? Good for you! Me? No one wants me. No one ever wants me. You really think I would enjoy myself with that hanging over my head?"

Veneziano looked away.

Good, Romano nodded to himself. If he shut up now, then it was a sure sign that he had won. At the very least, he could fuck off back into their regions.

Except, his younger brother had clamped a hand over his wrist. There was a strength there that very few experienced firsthand. If Romano wished, he could try to break free, but he couldn't—wouldn't—he wasn't going to waste his energy over his stupid brother. It wasn't as if his brother could beat him in physical strength, damn it!

"Romano… has it ever occurred to you that other people would ...want you more if you let your guard down?"

Romano shrugged his brother off as if he was burned.

"I am not—how dare—" He spluttered in anger. "Are you asking me to change for a couple of damn potato eaters?"

Ashamed, his younger brother look away before it disappeared into a contemplative frown.

But Romano saw that shamed look, that was all he wanted to see.

"That's not what I meant. Change yourself to be…better. Not for me!" Veneziano waved his hand in a placating motion, all too aware that if Romano so chose, he would have turned both his container of pasta and wine into formidable weapons. "And definitely not for them. Just… I want all of us to be happy. Most of all, I want you to be happy."

It took all of Romano's patience not to walk (run) off into his country's borders. Happiness? With all of his brother's friends? What was he, a kid? They were adults! No, they were something more eternal and everlasting than mere human beings.

They were Nations, friendships never lasted, happiness was fleeting, and hope like this was stupid!

Why wouldn't his brother see?

"If you want me to be happy, then let me go."

His brother looked up at him sadly.

"Will that truly make you happy?" This time, the tears within his brother's eyes startled to trickle down his fair cheeks. They were neither tainted with anger nor with annoyance. Instead, there was a sadness that was as deep as the Adriatic.

Damn him.

Romano badly wanted to say yes, to end the conversation right then and there. This is what he wanted, right? Leaving would make him happy. He wouldn't have to worry about his brother getting too drunk to function, talking to Germany would be nonexistent and—and—and—

He found himself looking back, stunned to see a pair of lights slowly becoming brighter was they approached.

"Your friend is here." Romano's voice was dead.

His brother looked at the lights with an eagerness that could be likened to that of a man starved after days of no food. It was a childish excitement that had his brother glowing like the sun. In fact, if Romano really concentrated, he could see that his brother was rocking on his heels.

Romano began walking.

He began to walk towards their shared car.

For a moment, there was only one pair of trudging footsteps. Then, another pair, slightly lighter, almost hopeful, began to walk after the other pair.

"I won't enjoy it."

"But you'll try."

"I…" Romano's hands tighter on his goods."I'll try."

As one, they stepped into the blinding light of Germany's car.