"It is difficult to know at what moment love begins; it is less difficult to know that is has begun."

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Section IV

Lovina hadn't seen the Netherlands in a long time. Back then she always just thought he was scary and big. He still was. But now… she actually saw him. He was… attractive, actually. She had to blink herself out of that thought process. But he was. He was beautiful in a sense that his sister was beautiful too. Pale hair and eyes, and pale skin. Yet, as pale as everything looked, almost like air, nothing solid, she felt when she touched him, it would be like velvet. Soft to the touch for something looking so delicate.

Spain was always sort of gruff. Admittedly, Spain's skin was never soft. His lips were nearly always chapped or rough when they kissed, and his hands were calloused from either fighting or working long days in the tomato garden. Lovina brushed her hair, staring at herself aimlessly in the long vanity mirror. She had Spain's hair color. Antonio had pointed that out constantly.

"You have my hair, you are my child."

"We're meant to be! We have the same hair color, Lovi~!"

It was almost sickening. She hated how she simply switched in and out from being his child to being… whatever else. Like Antonio couldn't make up his mind of what he wanted Lovina to mean to him. Something to protect, or something to fuck. And honestly, it hurt a little bit. Not that she really cared what the bastard thought of her, but the stupid Spaniard couldn't just keep changing his mind. It wasn't like she was in love with him or anything. But she used to be. She used to cry whenever Spain would run off and visit Ukraine. God knows that girl was well endowed, and her thought was: "Who would return to a bitch-fit when they had the opportunity to spend time with such well… nourished countries like Ukraine?"

Especially because he never told her where he went sometimes. Almost like he was hiding everything from her. And it wasn't even like he needed to, they weren't anything official. Even though they lived together they slept in different rooms. They kissed and they had even slept together a couple of times, but those were special cases in which obviously didn't change anything or contribute to whatever relationship she doubted they would ever have.

She set her brush down with a loud clack on the desk, the hard wood hitting the oak. She would have to talk to him. She decided that that bastard Spain would probably be on the edge of giving her half of his land thinking that she was angry at him or something. But thinking that wasn't a very large stretch of a thing to assume. She may as well bring up their relationship. After all, even Belgium had brought it up, questioning, looking for anything definitive only to be disappointed when in reality, it was everything, but nothing. But she never really had given much thought to her and Spain's relationship. It always seem to naturally unspoken. As if labeling it with anything would taint it and make it turn to dust when it became daylight out.

Lovina had just grown so used to not having many relationships. Communicating and charming other countries was Feliciano's job. Other countries had usually avoided her due to her mouth and her natural nastiness towards men except for certain countries which she didn't mind at all. But… even why she lived with Spain was a whole question by itself. She owned her own house. She just never went there for the night. And it certainly wasn't the address she signed off to when she was doing paperwork. Lovina normally thought it was okay, since Feliciano lived in Venice, and only one of the siblings had to live in Italy.

But it wasn't okay. There was something mysteriously and horribly sick about her living with Spain, sleeping with Spain, yet not defining what they were. And she couldn't use the excuse that they simply loved each other either. Because they didn't. Sure she would be devastated if he fell as a country, but other than that…

They really weren't more than allies. Political wise. He stuck by her because she was the other half of the twin he really wanted. It was like settling for the second choice. And thanks to his light demeanor he somehow fooled himself into being happy with that. But things had to stop. She just couldn't go on like this. She couldn't remain here, stuck with Spain and keep him locked in a certain timeframe of their relationship. She knew he deserved to get into a relationship. Antonio deserved to be respected and share his love for public displays of affection, and that was just something Lovina couldn't give. She walked to her door and she pressed an ear to it.

Lovina could hear Antonio murmur to himself, along with the sounds of a knife chopping against wood. He must be comforting himself. He had a tendency to do that. Whenever she would sulk off he would begin to cook and simply try to make sense of it by thinking aloud. She decided to open it and began to step down the stairs, and she was in view of Spain; for he jerked up and made a half-smile at her as she made the rest of the way down. His attention returned to chopping the onions carefully and calmly. She could hear her flats touch the tile of the kitchen as she walked to the counter.

Lovina had opened her mouth to speak, but Antonio had already beaten her to the punch.

"How did you find out?" Wait. One. Fucking. Second.

Southern Italy's eyebrows crinkled in confusion, but she decided to play along. She readied her heart for this. From Spain? Was this a… betrayal confession from Spain? Of all people? Lovina took a deep breath and continued.

"You're pretty fucking sloppy." She put in. Vague enough that she couldn't be wrong on details, but specific enough to still make stupid Spain to believe she knew what the fuck she was talking about. Spain looked up, his face serious.

"Lovi… I…" He looked away, setting down the knife. Lovina tried to restrain her anger.

"I was going to tell you soon. I love you, Lovi." He looked away again, and Lovina didn't even know what he was talking about but she was still being overwhelmed by the hurt she felt.

"Don't you fucking say that you bastard." Lovina hissed at him. The Spaniard looked up at her, looking as if he was a kicked puppy. Not like Lovina would have any sympathy for that though. Antonio let his head drop and he sighed, bringing a hand up and running it through his hair.

"Lovi… I knew you wouldn't take this well." Antonio said again, his voice filled with woe. Lovina crossed her arms, like she was expecting him to explain.

"Me and… Victoria… We…-"

"I don't want to fucking hear it." So he was seeing somebody else. Lovina turned on the balls of her feet and she headed for the door.

"Lovi!" She didn't want to hear any of it right now. All this time. He was already moving on. Although, why shouldn't he? He had just as much of a right to happiness as she did. But she was going to talk to him. Try and establish something. Was it best to fully live apart? Or… perhaps… finally establish they were together. All the feelings that she had managed to keep away had returned. And jealousy arose like a snake from a pot. Just waiting to strike at something. She headed out, and made sure to slam the door behind her. Why did she feel this way? Was it really only betrayal she felt?

Spain didn't come chasing after her. Right. Because she wasn't the secret girl he was seeing. Lovina sniffed and she just kept walking. Unfortunately, she could already feel a fucking blister forming at her heel.

"Damn shoes." She mumbled. Was it because she couldn't clean well? Was Victoria good at cleaning? She shook the thought off. She actually didn't want to know. And… she didn't care either. Right. She didn't care. She bent down quickly and took her flats off, carrying both of them using her fingers. She kept walking. Where the fuck am I going? Lovina tried to think where she could go. Maybe Veronica's. Veronica would accept her, right? Does Veronica know about Victoria? She hoped not. She worried for half a second, would Veronica as well prefer this… Victoria over her? Would everyone?

"Need a ride?"

The voice came so suddenly, it actually scared Lovina a little. Not that she would actually admit it, but she jumped a little and whipped around. She didn't even hear the sound of a bike coming. The tall man on the bike kept going, slowing down a bit as if he was trying to catch up to her. Though she couldn't find an idea on why someone would actually do that.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Lovina asked, not bothering to turn around, she could hear skidding to her side and finally she slowed her pace. Netherlands was silent, just looking at her while she tried her best to keep her composure. No way she'd let a bastard like Holland see her at her weakest.

"You look like crap." Holland said again. Lovina scowled, but still didn't want to look at the bastard. Even if the sun was making his skin glow in a seemingly magical fashion. Now he was insulting her. So, if she said anything it would come back out as a sincerely rude insult. Holland didn't seem to be given up, and she figures she must be wearing a truly despaired look instead of a usual scowl she tried to plaster on.

"Something happen?" He said this as he glanced back at the huge house that belonged to Spain. Obviously belonged to Spain. Lovina had decided the only way to get rid of this stupid bastard was to simply give him boring answers. Or answers that by her assumption, would make her come off as rude and make him avoid her like most of the other countries did. He still remained silent, like he was just waiting for her to answer. Like she had to answer him. Fine. She'll give him a fucking answer. Just to get rid of him.

"Fucking Antonio. Who else?" Lovina said, exasperated. But the thing was, Netherland's still didn't respond. The ex-tomato gang member just stared at her. Not with any particular emotion either (this she could pick up from the corner of her eye). She sighed and glanced over, giving him a nasty look.

"It fucking sucks finding out you're the one who hasn't moved on." Lovina answered. She glanced over, not really feeling angry but… relieved. Now that she had said it aloud it was almost as if she could look back on it and laugh. He still didn't say anything and Lovina took that as incentive to keep talking.

"The the fucker thinks he has to tend to me, what bullshit. I was going to be the one to fucking dump him first. Not that we were fucking dating or some stupid shit like that." She had started to ramble. Netherlands said nothing of approval, but not disapproval either. He just… listened. And the thing was; that Lovina didn't feel like she had to hold anything back. Once the words of pure, raw emotion, and nothing prohibited; started to roll off her tongue, they just kept coming.

"And to think he's been hiding a girlfriend on the fucking sidelines just pisses me off. Who the fuck does he think he is? It's not like he's that fucking attractive. And why the fuck didn't he kick me out or something? I have my own damn house. He could have fucking said something. Honestly he's just fucking up his own fucking relationship with that… whatever the fuck her name is." Actually, the Italian really could remember the other girl's name. She just didn't want to say it. She let out a breath and groaned, actually turning her head to look over at Holland, who, somehow was managing to keep pace with her on his bike. After a while he just remained silent, glancing from her to the road in front of him.

And to think she was actually thinking he was good counsel.

I kinda switched Netherlands' with Holland occasionally. Because they're called the same anyway and it's referring to the same country. Like Britain and England. In a way. Correct my dumb ass if I'm wrong. I hoped you guys liked this chapter. Reviews are very much loved! And thank you guys who did review! You brightened my days! This is a apology chapter for being away so long and I decided to get this out before I got real busy with state testing. Hope this brighten's y'alls days too. Muchas amor! ...

My Spanish sucks.

My boyfriend rolls his eyes at me too. (He's fluent in Spanish, and while I love his accent, he loves my gringa way of attempting Spanish to him.)