Watching the digital clock that was placed on the kitchen counter, Spain impatiently tapped the end of his pen on the notebook he was holding. The Spanish nation could hear the clicking of keys coming from the living room and knew that Romano was working again. It was funny, he thought, that the Southern Italian had to do more work than he did despite being a bigger nation. Then again, Spain had remembered his boss reminding him to not slack off with work during his stay in Alicante… Oh well! He hummed cheerfully and reached for two cool tomatoes from the fridge, creeping into the next room while holding his breath. Spain looked over Romano's shoulder and tried to get a glimpse of what Romano was working on. It turned out that he was having a conversation with his brother, and the Spaniard had to hold back his laughter as he noticed the frustrated facial expressions the Italian would make.
Feli Veh~ Why didn't you tell me you were going to visit big brother Spain? I would have come along… Unless you didn't want me to ;)
Me Feli you are being an ass and it's not cute
Feli Relax fratello, I was just wondering. So did you ask him yet?
Me Ask who what?
Feli I thought you going to Spain's house to ask him to be your partner…
Me !
Feli …in the scavenger hunt, fratello. What were YOU thinking?
Me … Shut the fuck up Feliciano. It's none of your damn business why I'm here so drop it.
Feli Fine Fine, be a meanie~ That's alright because I already know that you two are going together anyways, veh~
Me WHAT?
Feli Yup, big brother France told me so, and he'd NEVER lie to me~!
Me … Stay away from that perverted fucker, Feli.
Feli Veh~ You're not denying it so I'm right, aren't I?
Me …. Fine, we're going together, so what?
Feli Nothing at all~! I think it's good that you two will spend time together, you know? It's like a trip for… ummm… FATHER and SON =w=~
Me … Ew. Don't ever think that again, Feli
Me Because the bastard may be old, but he's not my damn father.
Me Not by a fucking long shot.
Feli If he's not your father, then what is he? Hmmm~?
Romano didn't know how to answer that question—especially since he was talking to his airheaded brother, of all people—and thought of countless smart comments he could reply with, but they all had seemed too… dishonest to him. True, the very mental image of Spain as his father made the Italian want to throw up and die in a corner alone, yet at the same time, wasn't that what the older man saw him as? A son [or younger brother]? Suddenly, he could feel warm breath tickling his neck and sharply turned his head to meet bright green eyes nearly centimeters from his face. Taken by surprise, Romano dropped his smart phone and instinctively head butted Spain in the chin, causing the assaulted man to fall backward.
"What the fuck? Why were you so close to my fucking face asshole? Were you looking at my phone or something?" The Italian nation reddened at the thought of Spain reading the conversation he had been a part of earlier, yet he knew that the man couldn't have been sneaking up on him for any other reason besides the fact that he was a nosy bastard. While rubbing his sore chin and helping himself up, the Spaniard pondered on why Romano didn't answer his brother's question immediately, or at least why he had hesitated to do so. Just what was he to Romano?
"S-Sorry, Roma, that was very rude of me. I just thought you seemed really occupied and came to check up on you, that's all." It was an obvious lie [if not somewhat true], but the confused look on the Italian's face indicated that perhaps the man bought it.
"So you didn't see what was on my phone?" he asked, still suspicious and on edge. The Spanish nation shook his head and tried to beat down the growing guilt staining his conscience.
"Nope~! Anyways, I brought you a tomato~!" he said, and held out the healthy red fruit that he had brought from the kitchen. Romano inspected the gift carefully, and after concluding that it was safe, he snatched it from Spain's palm.
"Thanks, I guess. Just don't go being sneaky and shit again, got it? Because the last guy who tried that ended up sleeping with the fishes!" the blushing personification threatened, and took a bite out of the tomato. Spain watched as the juices trailed agonizingly slow down the smaller man's chin, and his eye twitched in frustration. To distract himself, the Spaniard rushed back to the kitchen and bit down a churro… or two… or three… Okay, a rather LARGE quantity of the snack. Binge eating wasn't the healthiest way to cure his arousal but I did the trick. He heard Romano resume his typing, and the loud clicking of buttons resonated through the once tranquil air again.
Spain grabbed his notebook and resumed writing down their plan for the scavenger hunt. America had written in the email that the nations could bring whatever they wanted on the trip [besides guns, arrows, etc.] and Romano had given his partner the task of figuring out what the chosen items would be. Once he compiled the list, the Italian would check it and point at any missing objects and/or needed ones. Spain smiled thoughtfully as he admired how organized and mature Romano was when it came to certain situations. Getting back on track, the Spaniard jotted down a few necessary items until he had filled up a decent amount of pages [some parts, though, were cute little doodles of tomatoes with curls like Romano's]. He scanned the page and reviewed what he had written thoroughly.
Packing List:
Several sets of clothes per person [at least one coat and mittens included]
Sneakers and/or sandals [bring pairs of socks too!]
HATS~~! [optional but you're missing out if you don't bring one] [… can you wear a fedora again please?]
An umbrella [although I prefer if only one person brought it so that we can share~! 3]
Underwear [ooorrr you don't have to bring any , just for when you go outside]
A tent [but one that's easy to put together and back because too much work is tiring~~~]
Blankets [preferably one so we can share~!]
A flashlight or glow sticks, because they are pretty~ :D
Electronics [I would suggest a smart phone but America said that only pagers and simple text & call phones are allowed]
Swiss army knives [the only weapon-ish thing we're aloud to bring. I mean it, Roma, NO guns]
Insect repellent [I don't mind the bugs, but I wouldn't want my poor little tomato to suffer out in the wild!]
First aid kit [just in case, though I would NEVER let anything dangerous get near you… I mean us]
Whistle [I don't know, I heard that it fends off wild animals and such, plus if you're in trouble you can just blow it and I'll find you~!]
Rope, wires and bungee cord because you never know when you might need it~!
A good book for when you're bored and maybe you're journal too
A camera [but not one that's too expensive or anything, just something that can handle travelling lot's]
And last but not least; EACH OTHER~! :DDDD
After erasing some extra and unnecessary side notes Spain smiled contently, pleased that he had fulfilled the task his love interest had given him, as he simmered into the living room holding his notebook and watching worriedly as Romano paced the area while speaking rapid Italian with an annoyed expression. Though the red-faced nation had distorted his features with hatred and fury, the Spaniard couldn't help but marvel at the beauty of his language rolling on that fiery tongue of Romano's. A tongue that the older man wanted to claim as his own with his-
Mierda! Spain had to slap himself out of the erotic daydream he was experiencing as the Italian hung up on the person at the other end of the line and sighed heavily. He was a tad surprised when he noticed the faint blush on the Spanish nation's cheeks, but thought nothing of it and set down on a nearby reclining sofa chair.
"What is it now, bastard?" Ignoring the tired man's language and the slightly hurtful name that he had been called, Spain handed his list to Romano and stared at the floor in embarrassment.
"Um, I finished the list that you wanted, Roma." In all honesty, he was eagerly anticipating what the Italian thought of his list, partly because he wanted to impress the man. Though when he thought about the messy scribbles and doodles that were drawn out of boredom, the Spaniard wished that he had done a better job.
Romano carefully inspected the list, cringing during some parts but appearing stoic most of the time. He was secretly amused [and pleased] by the tomato doodles and ending sentence—though he would NEVER admit it—when suddenly he noticed the intense green eyes that were focused on him. If it were possible, Spain could've burnt a hole right through the younger nation with his fixated stare, and it made Romano feel slightly uncomfortable and self conscious. Scratch that, very self conscious. Trying to stay on task, he coughed awkwardly and met his gaze with the other nation's across the room.
"You're list is sort of too fucking over the top with items, not to mention that corny as hell ending," he watched as Spain's face fell, and it hurt his heart a bit to see that, "but I guess it's not that bad travelling with someone that wants to prepared and all… I think all that's needed is to cross out a few of the stuff you want to bring and then we're all set." After darting his eyes around the room to try and distract himself from blushing like a madman [which he had already succeeded in doing, much to the Italian's dismay] Romano finally built up the courage to look at Spain. A rather red and flustered Spain, as he had noticed immediately, then followed by his trademark grin as he laughed softly.
"So it's useful? Glad to hear, Roma~! And I wrote the last line JUST for you~!" he confessed, emphasizing the 'oo' sound in 'you'. It both annoyed and charmed the younger nation, and he inwardly celebrated the fact that Spain was aiming for his approval. That alone was enough to leave the Italian nation in a state of distractive euphoria, leaving the confused Spaniard watching him to think about Romano's reaction and how odd it was.
"Yeah, whatever, maybe even you have your moments, bastard. Now leave me alone, I need to tell my boss that I'm going on this scavenger hunt thing," he demanded, and Spain cheerfully obeyed, heading towards his bedroom to pack clothes and such.
After finishing the last of the preparations, he then remembered the form left on the kitchen counter and quickly went to fetch it, waving the paper near Romano's face. The sitting man didn't respond, which concerned Spain, so he squatted down until he was eye-level with the nation. Eyes hidden under his auburn bangs, the Spaniard couldn't tell whether or not he was glaring or glowering, though he had bets that it wasn't very nice.
"Roma?" he asked, carefully not to make contact with the Italian like he had wanted to. It was only then that he noticed that the Southern Italian had his eyes closed, and a blush spread across Spain's face. Before him was an adorable, sleeping little Romano, yet he couldn't do a thing! No cuddling, no petting and certainly no kissing; it was siesta time and the nation was never in a deep sleep during such hours, so he was sure to find out and then MURDER Spain. So instead of acting upon his desires and violating [in which the Iberian preferred to think of it as loving] the snoozing Romano, he sat on the couch and turned on the television, flipping through random channels until he landed on CNN. Despite the common belief that Spain was nothing more than an airheaded country with not a care in the world, he actually took it upon his self to watch the news every once and a while. Being a nation, it was one of his obligations that he didn't mind tending to [mostly because no paperwork was involved].
Romano awoke to the sound of background voices coming from the news report and grunted in annoyance. The man on the couch's ears perked up when he heard the noise, soon reaching for the remote and turning off the television.
"Had a nice nap~?" he asked, observing the fazed expression on Romano's face with glee that he concentrated on containing. Said nation only grumbled in reply, pissed off by the fact that he had to wake up to such a cheerful person [when in reality he would have gladly been woken up that way for the rest of his life by none other than Spain himself].
"Okay then, well we'll we need to fill out this form that was attached to an email Eyebrows sent everyone because apparently it's important," he said, frowning slightly when he thought about the English sender. It made Romano smile knowing that even Spain could hate another, especially by using such a fitting nickname like 'Eyebrows'. To his discomfort, the Spaniard caught the smile and followed in suit. The Italian—quite embarrassed by then— tried to swerve his thoughts in a different direction, fighting down the crimson blaze on his cheeks.
"Right, then, so what is that we have to write?" he asked with a bored voice.
"Err, well first it says we write down our full nation names in both English and our native languages. So I guess for me it's 'Kingdom of Spain' and 'Reigno de España', and for you it would be 'Republic of Italy' and 'Republicca Italia'. Um, I'll just put 'South' in parentheses so it clears up confusion." He quickly wrote down the said titles, and with readable handwriting, to Romano's very surprise [he pegged Spain to be the type that had sloppy penmanship].
"Then what?"
"Our human names." A sudden spark of interest brightened his eyes as he met the Italian's , making said Italian blush furiously for being caught. "Say, Roma, what is your human name?" The man was caught off guard a bit, then grimaced a bit after interanally scolding himself. Of course, since Spain wasn't around during his unification, the man did not know what his official human name was. It was only understandable, yet it hurt Romano a bit, because even Germany knew what it was [not like the 'kraut' was every allowed to call him by it]. Still, he cleared his throat and answered with a composed and professional voice.
"It's Lovino Vargas." The Spaniard happily clapped his hands together and wrote the name down, adding extra flourishes for the 'L' and 'V'.
"Do you remember my human name?" he asked Romano, curiously wondering whether or not the other recalled a name he had learnt so long ago when Spain saw him as a child. Despite his growing refusal to admit it, Romano had kept his former caretaker's name locked within the recesses of his mind; it was something he knew he could never forget. But the Italian didn't want to seem needy or caring—believing that it would make him look desperate in a sense—and instead shrugged as a reply. Spain's face fell momentarily, a tad disappointed at the answer given, but he smiled nonetheless to hide his disappointment.
"It's Antonio Fernandez Carreido, okay? I think that they want to know our human names so they can make reservations in hotels and such while we're on our trip, so I guess we'll have to call each other those in public." he observed the Italian's facial expression for a moment, wondering what the man was thinking. "But if you want, I can still call you Romano because that is technically a name. You just can't call me Spain when humans are around." He was reluctant to offer such a deal—partly because the nation desperately wished to call Romano 'Lovino' instead—but Spain also knew that his former charge wasn't used to intimacy when he hadn't known the person for long. And though they did have quite the long history together, the Spanish nation had to admit that there was also a wide gap of time separating then and the present. So he wanted to make Romano feel as comfortable as possible, naturally.
However, Romano was feeling particularly uncomfortable with not being called 'Lovino' instead. Sure, the Italian truly disliked being friendly with others and only called his brother by his human name, but he longed to be closer to Spain and titles were the best he could manage at that moment. Swallowing all his pride, Romano shyly looked into the now-blushing Spaniard's eyes and frowned a little.
"Y-You don't have to call me R-R-Ro- you know, in public. You can just say my human name, since it'll be weird if I'm the only one doing that to you, plus you're a bastard if you think I'm too much of a wuss to deal with using my h-human name and all," the flustered man muttered, his cheeks burning crimson as he could practically feel the shock emitting from Spain's surprised stare. Suddenly he heard immense laughter and gave the hysterical Spaniard a death-inducing scowl.
"The fuck are you laughing for, asshole?"
"Oh Roma, j-j-just-" he was cut off with more giggles and laughs, and if Spain wasn't more careful he'd end up leaving a hole in the wall after Romano threw him like he was planning to. After noticing the Italian nation's balled up fists and tomato red face [which seemed so utterly adorable in his eyes], Spain calmed himself down and picked up his pen once more, though he still remained a bit light headed from his previous mood.
"O-Okay, back to the sheet. It says we have to write our physical ages down… ummm..," the Spaniard thought for awhile, making an expression that Romano thought was NOT adorable [sarcasm indicated; he thought it was 'fucking cute' though he'd never tell]. "The thing is, I actually don't remember what my doctor had said my physical age was, sooo," he trailed off, watching as his secret love/crush-person made a rather annoyed face.
"Are you fucking kidding me? Seriously?" he asked with his brows knit.
"Yup~! It never really seemed that important, that's all!~" the Spaniard cheerfully admitted, making Romano want to face palm. In which he did. I have the lousiest not-so-secret-crush-according-to-Feliciano on an idiot, and said crush happens to be a major diltz to boot. Whup dee fucking doo, I'm so damn sad. Suddenly he heard an excited gasp come from Spain.
"Wait, I know! I think I remember something about my age being the same as Gilbert's physical age, so I should just call him up~! Yeah, I think I'll do that!" and without another second to spare he pulled out his phone and quickly scrolled through the contacts until he found a number titled 'Gil'. Holding the phone to his ear after pressing 'call', Spain anticipated hearing his Prussian friend's voice after such a long time of separation.
"HELLO, THIS IS THE AWESOME ME SPEAKING! HOW YA DOIN TONI?" a loud voice practically yelled through the other end, making Romano cringe at the sound. Yup, that was definitely Prussia. Yet Spain seemed unaffected by the volume and beamed when he heard his best friend's painfully obvious enthusiasm.
"I'm alright, Gil. How is it going for you and Canada [or something like that]?"
"Yeah, we're doing AWESOME right now; he and I have already made it to America and are staying at one of the hotels the guy recommended. You know a lot of teams are already here and the starting time conference held by England is the day after tomorrow, so you and that grumpy Italian should get your asses over here before you miss the deadline and stuff. No pressure though, if you'd rather just cuddle in front of the television like some lovesick idiots while we have AWESOME-AS-HELL adventures over here, that's totally AWESOME too! Kesesesesesese~"
As much as Spain enjoyed hearing his friend ramble, he hated the fact that the last part was particularly loud and that Romano had heard it as well. But the Italian made an effort to show that he didn't give a damn about what Prussia was saying, waving it off for something idiotic and completely Prussia-like thing.
"U-Um, yeah, we'll be boarding on a plan over there tomorrow morning, actually, so we'll see everyone real soon I guess. Anyways, I wanted to ask you what your physical age was, since we kind of have the same and I maybe-sort of-totally forgot what mine was."
"Ah, it's for that paper thingy right? Yeah, while Birdie and I were filling it out I didn't have a clue, but luckily that cute little brother of mine is always there to help~! That guy knows EVERYTHING, I tell you! Yeah, so anyways he said that my physical age was twenty five, okay? … What? Huh? Oh, AWESOME! Um, I have to go now because we're eating downstairs. BYYEE!"
"Yup, thanks and have fun~!" the Spaniard said, then hung up the phone.
"So what is it?" Romano asked, wondering whether or not their 'physical' age gap was as far as it used to be.
"He said his is twenty five, and when I think about it, I definitely remember my doctor saying that mine is twenty five too~!" He then proceeded to writing down his age. "And what's yours, Roma?"
"Er, it's twenty three," the blushing Italian answered, secretly content that two measly years was all that separated them. That, and his temperamental personality plus coward-like nature to run away from all things that scared him. I'm so difficult. The Spaniard beamed after hearing the age and wrote down the numbers.
"Twenty three already, huh? That's very close," he mumbled under his breath, hoping that Romano hadn't heard a word. Spain was overjoyed in the fact that the nation wasn't as young as before which meant that he was perfectly 'legal', in some ways [not that that would have stopped the sexually restrained and perverted country, now would it?].
"Okay, last but not least, our team name~! Well, not really name, just a one word label sort of thing. Oooh, I wonder what we should call ourselves?" he wondered aloud, when a simple thought crossed both of their minds in sync.
"TOMATOES!" Spain and Romano called out simultaneously, turning red with embarrassment after they had realized what had happened. In Spain's mind he could only think 'So so so so so so VERY cute~!' but in Romano's it was more of 'SHIT SHIT SHIT that did NOT just happen!' So yes, both men were obviously a match made in heaven, as any could plainly see… Except for maybe themselves, judging from the way the two always took careful steps with each decision and word directed towards the other.
Most call it 'supposed unrequited love', though France had a better term, in which their behavior was dubbed by him to be 'idiocy from the inexperienced'.
"So I guess our label is 'tomatoes' then, huh?" Spain asked, trying [yet failing] to hide his smirk. The Italian only grunted in reply, still a bit red since he had not yet recovered from his flustered state.
"Alrighty, we're finished with the form~! I'll just fax it to Evil Eyebrows; in the meantime you can pack your clothes."
"Okay."
After the rather uneventful evening that included homemade pasta by Romano [because he claimed that America would be full of 'shit' food so he wouldn't be eating real cuisine for quite some time] and a few quiet hours watching Animal Planet [in which Spain would coo whenever a cute creature appeared on screen, much to Romano's annoyance], the two decided it was time to rest early since they had to leave for the airport in the morning. After the rather happy yet drowsy Spaniard hugged Romano before he retired to bed, he turned away before feeling a soft tug on his sleeve. Facing the blushing Italian with a look of genuine curiosity, Spain noticed that Romano's expression was both reluctant and sad.
"What's wrong, Romano?" he asked gently and took the hand that had been touching his sleeve into his while staring lovingly into the Italian's wondrous hazel green eyes. Romano was so quiet that it worried him, but he practiced self control and stopped himself from tackling the shorter man.
"Umm… Er, well it's sort of… I guess, uh… Shit, I mean… mmm… We're leaving tomorrow for America, right? And after that, you better believe your sorry ass that there's no turning back OR leaving me in that damn hellhole-of-a-country." He gulped nervously and pursed his lips before continuing. "So, i-if you change your mind and are having regrets about his whole trip shit, now is the time to say that and we can just… not go."
An awkward and deafening silence passed until Spain finally gave into his urges and held Romano in a bone crushing hug. The Italian nation squirmed and fought back a bit, but after a few minutes in that position, he slowly relaxed [still red faced as ever, though].
"Why, oh why, would I ever regret going on this trip with you, my dear Roma?" he asked softly in a whisper, carefully stroking the auburn hair of his beloved Italian. Romano felt his heart stop when he heard the question and could find no words to answer, though his mind was shouting a million things in return.
Because I'm moody, temperamental, sloppy, lazy, distracting, a pushover, cowardly, cruel and useless. And so much more…
"Because this is me we're talking about. You'd have regrets because it's me." he confessed while his head was still nuzzled in the taller man's chest. Spain was appalled and felt truly bad that Romano thought so little of himself, making the nation want to shower him with affection and kindness.
And love. His undying, unyielding and forever growing love.
The Spaniard gently pushed Romano's shoulders away from his body so that the two were staring into each other's dimly lit eyes [they had turned the lights off in the living room].
Beautiful swirls of gold and green in your lovely brown orbs. My beautiful, precious Romano. My one and only love. I wish I could tell you I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you a thousand times more than my language could describe and millions more than any language on this earth could. Please never doubt me. Please always believe in me. Please accept my love.
"You've got it wrong. I don't regret going on this trip because it's you, and I'll never regret anything that involves being around you. In fact, I'd plan hundreds more trips out and around the country—if you'd let me—and never regret a single one of them. Because..," Spain trailed off as he was lost in Romano's eyes, because despite the growing need to tell the Italian his feelings, the other man's insecurities was something crystal clear and apparent. It made the Spaniard understand why his love interest acted so unkind and rude towards others he didn't know, because behind that façade was a heart as pure as the day he had came into existence. Romano didn't know what to make of the taller man's unusual silence and frankly didn't care about the embrace or the intimate ambience.
"Because?" he urged. Though Spain would have usually smiled when the Italian became out of character and spoke in such a hushed tone, at that moment his breath was merely taken away. The Spanish nation was holding his love close, looking into his love's eyes and whispering soft things to his love, so it felt very… Romantic.
"Because I care about you, Romano. I care very, very, very much. And it upsets me to see you feel so lowly about yourself; you are a wonderful person and only a complete moron would want to stay away from you." He heard Romano's breath hitch and watched as the Italian's eyes watered around the corners, making Spain hope that he was crying due to being deeply moved instead of totally devastated. Then Romano did the most unpredictable thing that his feisty self would ever possibly do, and it definitely surprised the Spaniard that he did it to.
… Romano slowly—and in a hesitant manner—stretched his neck until he lips lightly pecked the taller man's nose. Then, to top the icing on the cake, he wrapped his arms around Spain and pulled him into a warm and tight hug.
All of that made the Spaniard's heart stop. And his breathing. And his thought process.
In fact, everything stopped in his point of view; you could say time itself had halted.
"Thank you, b-b-basta- … Spain," he heard and looked down at the shorter Italian man that was hugging him. Suddenly reality made its way back into Spain's comprehension and he noted several things as the nation gently caressed Romano's soft hair.
Firstly, the Italian had kissed him. And not just on the cheek like before [anyways, he said it was a payback kiss], but a self motivated kiss on the nose. Which had caused his ever so delicious looking lips to hover above Spain's in order to complete the said kiss. That pretty much elevated the Spaniard's heart rate.
Secondly, Romano was hugging him. Yes, they usually did this, but most of the time it was instigated by Spain and not the other.
Lastly, he felt like the happiest, dopiest and most complete nation/man/whatever he was when Romano held him like that; the Italian even swayed a bit as he did so.
So Spain's heartfelt and genuine grin widened when Romano looked up at the taller nation with half lidded eyes and a crimson face. What a beautiful blush my love has. Feeling that there were no boundaries at the moment, he gently stroked the Italian's cheek, earning a sharp intake of breath.
Romano had never felt more embarrassed in his entire existence, which happened to be a pretty long time considering he was a country. After all, the man had kissed and hugged Spain, which went against everything his personality portrayed him to be. Yet there he was, cuddling like a "lovey dovey motherfucker" and even crying… just a bit, though. There were plenty of voices in his head screaming all sorts of accusations, like how he had lost his edge and how he was going to be backstabbed and betrayed. Some even claimed that as soon as Spain saw his less 'cute' side he was sure to leave the Italian. However, one hopeful yet quiet thought at the back of Romano's mind made him want to cling on to hope in the Spaniard.
What if he loves me too? He cares very much for me, like he said, and even smiles when I give him kisses and hugs. Fuck, he seems ecstatic when I give him the tiniest of affections, so maybe…
He loves me?
Am I selfish to want him to?
Am I only asking for heartbreak because I fell in love with such a perfect being?
Sometimes I just want to tell him how I feel and get it over with, but the way things are is so nice yet it's not because I can't hug and kiss him in the ways that I'd like to. If he accepts my love and returns it, my world and life would revolve around him. But if he doesn't, what will our relationship be like?
I love him. I love his beautifully coloured eyes that change according to his mood, and the way he smiles when I do something sweet [ugh though I rarely do that]. And sometimes he gives me smiles that I've only ever seen him give me, like the kind that make me believe that he… that he…has romantic feelings for me.
I feel like I'm being led on in a way, but that idiot is too nice and stupid to do something so cruel.
.. I think.
A-And I feel like I can trust him, maybe because I'm in love with him or because Spain just has that sort of aura to him… OH FUCK I feel so stupid for mulling on such depressing things.
Their night ended with the two men falling asleep on the living room couch, lying in each other's warm and affectionate arms.
So yes, call me crazy but I love ending chapters with hugs. Trust me, I can write fluffier shit but I prefer to spare you people and your eyes... today, anyways. So yeah, long chapter is long xD
Anyways, somehow I feel like the honesty of Romano is astounding while I write the stories, yet when I think about it, I see every country as an old-as-hell sort of personification, so of course they mature in SOME ways over the centuries. I guess. wow this story is coming along slowly but surely...