Inferiority Complex Chapter 2

Romano's mouth twitched in desperation to smile, but he was determined to hide it, so he turned away from the Spaniard he was currently with. "...And that's what happened to Phillip the Turtle!" Spain beamed at Romano. "Interesting," Romano remarked dryly, but was secretly amused. "It is, isn't it?" Spain grinned cheerfully before his eyes suddenly widened in realization. "Roma, we should go see Italy!" Spain gave a seemingly dopey smile.

Romano's almost smile dropped and he scowled, ignoring Spain as much as he could. "Pequeño tomate," Spain whined pitifully, but Romano ignored him. "Pleeeaaaaase? We haven't seen your little brother in a very long time!" Spain practically wailed. More silence was his answer. "Please, Roma? For me…? For little Feli? … Why don't you want to see your brother?" Spain whined. "I miss him, and you should, too. I really want to see his latest painting, too." He added. Romano finally blew up, "No, dammit! Fuck you, I don't want us to go see him, you moronic bastard!" He snarled before stomping up the stairs to his room.

"Espera mi! Wait! Mi pequeño tomate, why are you so angry? I'm sorry, but I don't understand why you don't want to go see him and are bitter with him." Spain knocked on his door numerous times. 'I'll never be as good as him,' he thought bitterly, 'that's why.' He would never be as good as Feliciano in Spain's eyes. Or anyone's. Feliciano was so much better than him at everything. Spain didn't ask to see his latest paintings. Not that he would show his shitty ass paintings to him. Or anyone. But, still.

He heard Spain sigh, and he swallowed the lump that grew in his throat. Was this it? Was this the day that he has been waiting for for so long? Was Spain going to finally give up on him like everyone else? He supposed that he'd been pushing for this day, though. A sense of normalcy, you could call it.

When Spain didn't give up on him, it went against everything he had experienced and knew to be. Like he knew and had experienced many, many times how superior Feliciano was to him. Because Spain didn't give up, he found himself becoming meaner to Spain than to anyone else. Even more so than potato bastards, at times. Oh, God, he wanted to push Spain away, didn't he? God, Dio, he was a sick, sick fucker. He was. Feliciano would never be that way. Feliciano was better, just like everyone else had told him. Just like he told himself. Feliciano would never feel or be so worthless compared to another. (God, he was so, so wrong.)

"Roma," Spain sighed again and Romano slid down the door so as to sit on the floor. He laid his head in his arms and sniffled quietly. Dammit. Fuck. Not even Feliciano would cry and be so upset over something so stupid. "Roma, please...Open the door for me. I want to help you. Please, Lovino. Please let me help you, Lovino." Spain muttered, using Romano's real name, as he rested his forehead against the door.

Lovino swallowed thickly, but kept silent, and didn't open the door for the Spaniard. "I'm sorry for whatever I did..." Spain paused. "I'm really, really sorry. I don't know what to do. I always seem to mess things up with you. I really am as stupid as everyone says." Spain sighed before standing up straight. "Okay, Lovino, if you want to be alone, I'll just go to my room, okay? If you want me, you can just come over and get me, okay?" Spain asked again just in case, only for more silence to keep him company.

"..." Lovino's fists tightened. 'No, don't leave me. Please keep fighting.' He thought at one point, then thought something entirely different at another, 'Leave me the hell alone already. Go leave me for Feliciano just like everyone else.' Jesus, he was bipolar as fuck. Feliciano wasn't bipolar like this.

...

"Lovi, I'm going to go see Feli, okay? Do you want to come with me?" Spain questioned Lovino through the door. More silence was his answer as he sighed in dismal. He really wanted Lovino to come with him. His shoulders slumped slightly as he made one last ditch effort to get Lovino to come.

"Lovi, don't you want to see how Feli is doing? He's been hanging around...the potato bastardo a lot more lately, so I thought that you'd want to see if he was okay." Of course, he felt bad about calling Gilbert's little brother that, and he felt super-mega bad for manipulating Lovino, but he also felt like it would be the only way to keep the two brothers together at times. He felt like otherwise, they'd begin to forget about each other and wouldn't have a great relationship anymore...He didn't want them to turn out like him and Puerto Rico.

There was a growl from behind the door as he heard several drawers be pulled open and ransacked through. He smiled slightly as he realized that Romano was getting packed and went to do so himself.

…

After Romano finished packing, he stripped himself of his clothing and stepped into the shower. He turned on the hot water, searing, just as he liked it, for it burned away some of the filth of Lovino, and leaned his forehead against the wall, allowing the water to cascade down his back. Romano's eyes closed as he did one of the worst things.

He remembered. Remembered every jest and insult at his being. Remembered every compliment that Veneziano received and that he hadn't. Remembered how Veneziano was the only one actually called Italy, despite Romano being the other half. He remembered every compliment Spain gave Veneziano. Every smile. Every hug and kiss on the cheek. How Spain pleaded with Austria for a trade. He remembered just how much that hurt.

Romano's fist clenched, then slackened, as if defeated. He would never be as good and great as his younger brother… But he could try, couldn't he? Maybe he should eat less, lose some weight. He'd skip lunch and dinner. Breakfast was the most important meal of the day, anyway, so he would be fine with just that. Then he should exercise more, maybe. And… And he could- could… And maybe after a bunch of other stuff, Spain would finally see him and not compare him to his brother. Maybe everyone would see Romano Italy and not just Veneziano Italy.

But… he wished he didn't have to go through so much just so that he wouldn't be as worthless… So he could approach his brother as an equal being. He wished- He just wanted- He just-

'I wish I wasn't so inferior.' He thought at the same time as a certain someone.