51. Misplaced Misunderstanding

Date Written: April 6, 2019

Date Posted: April 19, 2020

Characters: Veneziano, Romano, Prussia

Summary: Prussia manages to find himself possessing confidential information.

Notes:

"Well, that was a waste of time." Romano huffed to himself as he began to stuff all the necessary notes and documents back into his briefcase. Next to him, his brother hummed in affirmation as he mirrored his brother's actions.

The both of them had endured another world summit that happened to take place in a country outside of their shared borders. While informative and necessary, Romano and Veneziano had enough of their fellow Nations and wanted to go back into their shared hotel room and take a nap.

All in all, it was just like any other meeting.

Absolutely nothing of note.

That is, nothing appeared to be of note until Prussia approached them, a small smile on his face as he greeted both Mediterranean Nations. Although he wasn't considered a true Nation anymore, merely a region within Germany's territory, he was still allowed to attend the conferences if he so wished. Most of the time, the albino opted to skip out on such trivial affairs lest he were to die of boredom and inanity. However, today was an exception. Today, Prussia was a stand-in for his brother due to some unfortunate mixup with his secretary.

The former country requested for some files and without taking much into consideration, the younger Italian representative grabbed a handful of documents, thumbed through them with a passing glance, and handed them in full to the Germanic Nation. The both of them exchanged words, mostly in jest concerning the meeting, before they parted ways.

At the hotel, Romano flopped on the bed while Veneziano hopped onto a chair before he started flipping through the apps on his phone. After most meetings, they found that the dullness and the tedium of such affairs were made much more bearable if they didn't talk or had a few strong drinks once they had finished. Most of the time, they would go out with their fellow Nations and take to bars or cafes across the street from the hotel or stroll around the city, taking in the sights. Because their wallets were several euros lighter than it was a few days ago, they had to make do with the dim lighting and the plush comforts of the room.

The brothers subsisted on the silence for a good half hour before Romano let out a groan and tiredly rose from the bed. The other brother paid little attention to his sibling while Romano began rifling through his briefcase.

"Romano—" Veneziano stated, but Romano headed him off with a gesture that shut him up.

For a moment, there was only the sound of paper rustling, humming, and muttered curses. When seconds of the ruckus spread out into minutes, the elder Nation dumped out the entirety of his briefcase onto the bed. There was only a slew of envelopes and precious paperwork that spilled out before Romano nearly collapsed onto the floor and slammed a fist into the plush carpeting.

Again, Veneziano looked up from his phone, this time admonishing his brother, but Romano leveled a glare that spoke of evil.

"Your bag." Romano held out a hand. "Now."

"Why do you want it?" Veneziano refused to move away from his perched position, his fingers pushing colorful buttons in accordance to the game that he was playing. "What are you so anxious about?"

Romano growled low in his throat before he stalked over to his brother's case lay before he undid the clasps and started peering at the contents. At that point, Veneziano was irritated, but the way his brother had not expressed his annoyance verbally, but through his actions, sent red flags. If that wasn't a sign of the apocalypse, then Veneziano didn't know what was. Eventually, Romano's heated attempts led him to empty Veneziano's briefcase onto the bed.

And his eyes kept looking for something.

At this point, Veneziano tucked his phone into his pocket and slowly approached his brother as if he were approaching some wild beast. With the way Romano huffed and erratically moved, it might as well have been the truth.

"Romano…" Veneziano stopped a few feet away, his eyes searching his brother's face, "did you lose something?"

"My common sense, self worth, and my will to live."

The younger brother shook his head. Even when they were full grown Nations, Romano was as dramatic as they come.

"Romano, what's wrong? Tell me what you lost and I'll help you find it." Veneziano, like any good brother in his position would do, placed his hand on his brother's shoulder. It was supposed to be a comforting gesture, but Romano refused him.

Veneziano pulled his smarting hand away when Romano slapped him a little too roughly than was necessary. "Hey!"

"Fine." Romano snapped. "I lost one of my journals, okay?"

The younger Italian blinked. He knew that Romano was a private person, but why would he bring one of his journals on a business endeavor? It would make sense for him to leave it back in his private room at home, but this was unexpected.

"Well, where do you think—"

Romano snapped the lid of the suitcase shut, his green eyes darkening in thought. "I bet Prussia has it."

Now, most Nations who hadn't known Prussia personally would think that he wasn't as dedicated to his job like his younger brother. To that, well, he had to say that they were completely wrong. Who do they think taught Germany how to be disciplined, to be the warrior and powerhouse that was needed when their shared territory was at its wit's end? Years of having Germany be the face, the foundation of their Nation, had ushered Prussia into the shadows, a place that he had not been acquainted with due to his years as a burgeoning power in Europe. However, he found that he thrived there as a veteran and as a dying flame that would surely be taken up by his young brother when the right time came.

Honestly, the thought should have filled him with sadness, yet…

Prussia wiped a few strands of his pale hair away from his face. Now was not the time to think about things like that.

As he settled onto the desk that was inside of his hotel room, he began thumbing through various documents and folders. Some were written in his neat, but cramped hand. Others were either typed up by fellow delegates or written in another Nation's respective hand. As Prussia began rewriting his notes into a laptop supplied to him by his dependable, younger brother, he managed to knock something off his desk. Now, that shouldn't have been a small problem, but it sounded heavy. Like it had weight.

Frowning, Prussia leaned over to the side where the object fell and picked it up.

It was a small notebook, spiral bound and tattered around the edges. There were a few papers wedged into the notebook, the edges of which were yellowed and worn, as if the person who owned the notebook had touched and perused them many times before. Speaking of the owner, there was no name written on the cover… maybe if he… Although Prussia had a mischievous streak a mile long that roared in his blood, he took the matter of the situation in a serious way. Lost information, be it business or personal, was not something that should be trifled with.

Prussia knew the feeling.

He had a room filled with old journals that he didn't want anyone rifling through.

Detached and not really expecting much, the weathered Nation flipped the cover of the notebook open. At first, Prussia had to squint at the top leftmost corner. The handwriting was tiny, cramped, and angular. Further observation revealed that the ink blotted and bled over the curves and slashes of the written name. It was messy, but an artform all to itself.

But what really shocked Prussia was when he finally deciphered what the combination of loops and straight lines meant.

Reppublica Italiana.

Italia Romano.

There was a date scrawled underneath the titles, probably the date when he had first received the notebook.

"Huh. Never knew Romano to be one for such sentiment. I wonder…"

Prussia allowed his eyes to take in the first few paragraphs of what seemed to be a rant or a list of grievances. Satisfied, but feeling a little guilty that he allowed his eyes to caress those beautifully written words on the lined page, Prussia closed the notebook and began feeling his pockets for his cell phone.

Hey! I think I have one of your things.

After sending that message, Italy managed to send in a response faster than one of his soldiers retreating.

Specifically, South Italy.

When Prussia scrolled through his messages, he could see a gigantic block of text that was all written in a dialect that he could only guess originated from Great Rome himself.

Prussia didn't have to translate the message.

He already knew what the gist of it was.

Are you going to come visit me soon… or are you going to continue yelling at me?

This time, there was no response from the southern half of Italy.

Preparing himself for the inevitable, Prussia began to head towards his hotel door when he felt his phone vibrate again. He sighed. Was Romano going to chew him out again?

Another surprise.

This time, it wasn't a text, but a call from Veneziano.

"Hel—"

"Romano hasn't killed you yet, has he?"

"Oh ye of little faith!" Even though Veneziano wasn't there to see him personally, Prussia mimed placing an affronted hand over his heart, a melancholic expression on his face. "As if your brother could possibly hope to kill me!"

Veneziano chuckled a little into the receiver, a sound that warmed Prussia's heart. It seemed that nowadays, not many people could find the strength to laugh freely nowadays. It was saddening, but more so when it came to the warm Mediterranean Nation.

"Silly man, I'm just making sure that you didn't take a look through Romano's notes. He absolutely hates it when people… or rather, me, look at it."

Prussia couldn't help but laugh. "Notes? Veneziano, I'm not sure if you've noticed, but it's clearly a journal! I didn't look through it, but it's kinda obvious that he's—"

"YOU BASTARD, YOU'VE BEEN LOOKING THROUGH MY PRIVATE JOURNAL?!"

Prussia's blood ran cold when he heard that shout come straight from his cell phone. Had… Had Veneziano knowingly called him and allowed his brother to listen in? That little, manipulative shi—

"I'M GONNA GO FULL VESUVIUS ON YOUR PASTY, ALBINO LITTLE ASS AND YOU'RE GONNA WISH—"

As the sound of Romano's shouts slowly faded away along with the sound of a resounding bang of the door filled the silence, Prussia found himself all too aware of the quiet giggles on the other end of the phone call.

North Italy was still on the other end of the line.

"You're a little shit, Veneziano."

A low chuckle filled Prussia's ear. Despite himself, Prussia felt warm and content as he allowed that sound to caress his ears.

"And you should know better than to go through my brother's things."