I rubbed my eye and went down the steps. "Man, what a headache…" I wandered into the kitchen to see two certain idiots talking about something. I couldn't tell what because once I was close enough to hear they instantly shut up and froze where they were.

"Hey, sorella!" Paulo greeted a little too happily. (And this is Paulo we're talking about, so that's saying something.) "So, how was your nap?"

"Meh," I grunted. I sat in between them at the table and folded my arms on the top. "My head hurts, I'm dizzy, etc."

"Um, hey, Bella?"

I looked over at Italy. "What?"

"About what happened when I took you upstairs…"

"Seriously? I don't even remember that." I put a hand on my forehead. "Then again, I don't recall anything about then."

Italy paled. "You don't? At all?"

"Nope." I raised an eyebrow. "What did I do?"

He bit his lip and feigned interest in the cabinets.

"Tell. Me," I growled.

"No." He shook his head.

"Why?"

"You'll kill me."

"I'd kill you anyway."

"Don't worry, sorella, I'll tell you!" Paulo declared. Italy clapped a hand over his mouth and shook his head. Paulo gave a muffled, "Whyyyyy?" I stood up and stood over them, tapping my foot with my hands on my hips.

"…Are you sure you want me to tell you?" Italy asked hesitantly.

"Yes."

"Are you positive?"

"Yes."

"Absolutely and positively sure?"

"YES!" I clenched my fists.

He suddenly blushed and looked down. "Um, I don't wanna."

"Huh." I nodded and looked over to the knives, ready to threaten if need be. (Oh, don't look at me like that. I was desperate!) "Look, it isn't that bad," I told him, deciding to go the nice route. "You tell me and I promise I won't get mad."

He slowly and warily met my eyes. "Really?"

"Yeah. Now just say it."

I caught Paulo giggle. Italy motioned for me to bend down and I did. "You mind?"

"…No," I answered reluctantly. I turned my head to the side and allowed him to whisper something quietly into my ear. My eyes widened and I think I said something intelligent like, "…Uh? Huh?" I then look my hand, whirled around, and smacked him in the face.

"Ow!" He gingerly touched his cheek. "You said you wouldn't get mad!"

"Well, you shouldn't have let me kiss you!" I defended.

"Actually, you did it suddenly, so I couldn't stop you!" He crossed his arms and sighed. "Let's just leave it. It happened and it won't happen again."

"Yeah…" I fell back in my seat heavily and tried my best to remember. "Um, Romano isn't home, is he?"

"No. I think he said he had to do stuff on the way home."

"Good." I shot him a side-ways glare. "Don't you dare tell him about this."

"But…" He found it unwise to continue and shut his mouth.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"…" I slumped back in my chair and fixed my gaze on the counter. "If you think it's your fault… Sorry I said that. I was just upset. Just the shock, you know?"

Tense silence.

"H-Hey, sorella," Paulo piped. "Can I try out that new violin you got me?"

"Got a hangover?"

"Nah."

"Go ahead."

He beamed and jumped up, almost knocking over his chair. He rushed to his present, which was still resting on the counter. He unlatched it and put it under his chin like I saw him do before. He picked up his bow and put it to the strings. I prayed to whatever was out there that he was actually good. But from the first note, I could tell he wasn't good at all.

He was amazing.

I blinked stupidly and how flawlessly he played the tune. "What song is that?"

"Viva la Vida by Coldplay," he grinned. "I don't usually listen to their stuff, but this sounds good on violin."

Italy and I sat in silence as he finished the song. He gave a bow and we clapped with a laugh.

"Very good!" I praised. "How long have you been playing?"

"Uh, since I was…two?" He put the instrument back. "It's the first thing I ever started to find interest in. I'm so glad you got it for me!"

"Bella, I've gotta talk to you."

I turned to Italy. "I told you, it wasn't a big deal. It was just a mistake." He winced at the word "mistake." "T-That's not what I meant! It's just-"

"I didn't want to talk about that!" He glanced at Paulo. "I just need to tell you something…alone."

"Oh! Paulo, can you go upstairs for a little bit?" I asked. "Just for a minute?"

"Okay!" My brother instantly leapt up the steps and out of sight. I sighed in relief and relaxed.

"Alright, now, what's wrong?" I think I looked a little worried when I said it. "Is something bothering you?"

Italy nodded. "Yeah…"

I waited for a response, but it didn't come. "Go on."

"I just…" He paused to find the right words. "I just don't want you to hate me. Even if you don't like me back. I think you're getting the wrong idea of what I'm after. I don't want to be annoying. I…"

"I get it, I get it," I stopped him. "I understand. I guess I've just been a little irritable lately, you know?" I blushed and looked away. "Things have been a little hard lately. I've been wondering how my mom's been…"

"Then why don't you go visit her?" Italy suggested. "You can do that with Paulo or Scout or whoever, right?"

"No, I didn't want to go check up on her," I said. "She doesn't like me very much. She always yells and me and gets mad. She hates me…"

"I'm sure she doesn't!" he protested. "No mother could hate their child!"

"Mine does. She won't let me have any friends. She won't let me have a boyfriend. She'd never let me contact my dad. It would've been nice to know I had a brother." I laced my fingers on my lap. "I'm going to stay here. I told you that on New Year's. I can't go back. I'm not wanted there."

"Bella, just go…go check on her," Italy said. "Even if you don't talk to her, just make sure she's okay. Her child disappeared. She must be grieving somehow."

"…Guess so." I reached inside my pocket and took out my feather necklace. I knew I could use my key one, but the feather one I was more used to. Must be a Deliverer thing, I guess. "You wanna come with?"

Italy nodded.

"Okay." I closed my eyes and took his hand. "Let's do this."

Then we began to fall. The country looked around in amazement at all the images flashing around us. He pointed to one that was from a long time ago. "Look!"

I tilted my head up. It was a child in a green dress dusting a bookshelf.

"Who's that?" I asked with a smile.

"Me."

"…Ah." I left it there.

We finally touched ground and I inhaled. "This is my house," I whispered, just in case my mom was there. Was this the same time I left? Or had time kept moving on? I honestly couldn't focus on that. I was just hit with the realization: I was home.

"Homes seven decades into the future aren't really that different…" Italy muttered to himself.

"Want me to show you the plasma screen TV?"

"The what?"

"Okay, then."

I paced around the living room. "She isn't in here."

"Want me to go look for her?" Italy offered, excited to be helpful.

"No!" I hissed. "If you walk in on her, she'll kill you! Literally! How would you react to some guy walking in on you in your home?!" I glanced around. "You stay here. I'll be right back."

Italy nodded. "Certo!"

I gave him a nod of approval and quietly explored the house. Once I finally came back into the room where Italy was, I crossed my arms.

"She's not home," I huffed.

"That's alright," he assured me. He put a hand on my back. "You can come back later." He pulled me closer.

"Yeah, sure." I wanted to pull away, but I gave him the benefit of the doubt. "Listen, we should probably-"

Click.

I heard the door open and the clicking of high heels on the tile floor.

"That's mom!" I whispered. "Hide!"

"Where?" Italy asked. "There is nowhere to hide!"

"Oh, man…" I searched for a piece of furniture to dive behind, but everything was backed up against the wall. "Should I go back?"

"No, just go behind there." Italy pointed to a wall jutting out between the kitchen and the living room. There was a cut-out of a window to pass food or whatever through, but we could always crouch behind that. We ran behind it and crouched on the floor. I looked up through the window cautiously. My mom was seated in a recliner. She had her hand on her forehead.

"Where is that brat?" she growled to herself.

"That would be me," I mouthed. I shot Italy a "can we go now" glare. He shook his head and leaned over to watch from behind the wall.

I watched as my mom grabbed her phone and dialed someone. She put the phone to her ear and finally said, "Kai. Where's my daughter? You have no right to have her with you." Pause. "Don't you dare lie to me! The school and police have kept bothering me about her." She shook her head. "Kai! She just disappeared from her room one day and never came back. Where else would she go?! I swear, if your idiot son tried anything, I will personally deal with him."

She hung up and rested her head in her hand. "It's his son," she grumbled. "He's the one who gave me all this trouble. I swear, I'll make sure he doesn't do this again."

I instantly transported us back.

"Hey!" Italy frowned. "What'd you do that for?"

"Don't you get it?" I snapped. "She's onto Paulo!"

*Hey, RedWhiteNBlue! It's been a while! Yeah, you can punch Paulo. He's really dumb, so go ahead.

Paulo: :D Huh? *is stupid*

Anypizza, remember when Bella commented on how black is an unlucky color in Italy even though Italy himself wears it? Well, I've found the reason!

Romano: Warning. May be offensive to some Italians.

It is not! It's history!

Romano: Okay. Then you thinking my brother is racist will be okay to others. T.T

Hear me out. During World War II, with Mussolini and stuff, his men or whatever wore black shirts to signify they were with him. They were actually pretty ruthless. Not as bad as the Germans, but-

Germany: I swear to God, if you make a Hitler joke… -_-

I won't! Oh, and you know what the saying of the black shirts and Italian fascism was "Me ne frego." It, excuse my language (I don't curse), means "I don't give a d*mn!"

Italy: It's not really that funny you know.

Me ne frego! :D I am a proud Italian!

K bye.*