Romano took a deep breath as he sat back down on the bed, ignoring the twinge of pain in his chest. It was several weeks later now, and even though his injury wasn't completely healed, it was at least feeling a lot better.
Currently, he was back at the room he and America shared, at an inn located in a city called Nexus. The Nexus, as the people here kept correcting him to. Whatever.
Anyway, they were near the next Crystal now—the Emerald Crystal—and today they'd gone their separate ways to get some information on it. Apparently, there was no priestess here, either.
Thankfully, from what Romano gathered, this one would be a cinch to get. It was safely housed in a large temple nearby—and he even got directions how to get there!—all they needed to do was to climb some stairs to the third floor and then grab the damn thing.
The door to the room slammed open then, and in came America. "Oh! H-hey there, dude! What's up?"
Romano narrowed his eyes at the other. America definitely looked… nervous. "The fuck's wrong with you?"
"Wrong? What? Me? Hahaha, nothing's wrong! I can handle a ghost or two!"
Romano frowned, feeling frustrated. Besides that one weird, random conversation about the Indigo Crystal a few weeks ago, the burger bastard had been acting perfectly normally. Dammit. The last thing he needed was for America to go all weird on him, and prevent them from getting home! "The fuck," Romano continued after a few long moments, "do ghosts have to do with anything?"
"Oh, nothing! Nothing. Not at all, nope. I mean, well…" America started gesturing mindlessly, and Romano couldn't help but groan. "Well! Y'see, they might maybe have one at the temple. Or, um… more than one. Maybe a lot. But who cares, right!? I… I ain't afraid of no ghost! Right!?"
"... Right." Romano raised an eyebrow at that. There was no way America believed himself to be convincing. Not for a fucking second… right?
"So! How about you! You, uh, don't mind a little ghost on the way, d-do you?" America switched among gesticulating, pacing, and wringing his hands—apparently he wasn't able to keep still. More so than usual.
"... Actually," Romano answered, barely hiding a smirk, "I do mind. Ghosts are fucking terrifying!" And Romano did partly believe what he said; though he never really dealt with them much, they seemed pretty scary. Mostly, though, he wanted to see where he could go with this. So America was scared of ghosts, was he? This sounded potentially hilarious!
"I-I know, man! They're just, so…" America waved his arms around for emphasis, knocking over a lamp in the process. "Like, what are you even supposed to do about them! You can't punch them or, or use guns!"
"I know!" Romano was enjoying this way too much.
"But! Th-they're just… they're still there! And they try to get into your head!"
"Exactly!" Aw, America was kind of cute when he was like this. Mostly funny, but still, cute.
Heavy hands gripped Romano's shoulders. "But we gotta do this, man! Stay strong!" America was met only with a blank stare—the Italian's breath caught for a moment because damn the idiot looked so fucking earnest now—so he continued, "I know you're scared, but we gotta do this together!"
"Um… yeah!"
"And you know you can rely on me! Because I'm totally not scared!"
"Pfft—" Romano snorted at that, effectively snapping him out of his… just staring at America's face. Bastard had gotten too close just then, dammit!
"Um…?" America leaned back, looking a little put off.
Once Romano saw that, he started to feel a bit guilty, and his giggling died down. "I, I mean! Bastard! Don't look so upset. I don't mind going with you to the temple that's full of gh… gho…" he trailed off, as the full realization finally hit him of what they were going to do. "... ghosts…?"
"Yeah, ghosts."
"Um. What kind of ghosts are we talking about here? The friendly kind, right? Or… the mopey ones?" He wasn't an expert by any means, but from what Romano heard, ghosts could range anywhere from 'harmless entertainment' to 'possessing your body and setting your house on fire'. Eugh.
America shook his head and let go of Romano, looking serious now—any frustration from earlier forgotten. "Something more dangerous. I heard that they try to possess people and make them go crazy, so that the ghost can feed off of their negative emotions."
"... Oh." Shit. That just sounded fan-fucking-tastic.
"Yeah. And from what I heard, if you get possessed, then there's this, like… mark, or something, that appears on your skin. That's why we should go together—keep an eye on each other!"
"Well… m-makes sense."
"Oh, and also… youcanheartheirvoicesinsideyourhead."
"Bastard, what?"
"Y-yeah, like… that's how they g-get you. They try to convince you to lose all hope, or something, and then… you're possessed. S-something to do with opening your heart to their ways. Or… was it more that you're closing your heart off? W-well, anyway! From what I heard, we should be fine, as long as we s-stay strong!"
Romano turned away, frowning. Despite the nice words, America looked frightened as fuck. In the end, though… "Do I have much of a choice, asshole? We'll have to go in there in order to get home."
"P-pretty much, yeah. And I'll feel—I-I mean, it'll be safer if you come along!"
Romano grunted in agreement, feeling his face warm at the slip-up. That fucking bastard.
And America wasn't about to make it any better. "Now, for tonight… do you think we could sleep together?"
It was the fucking goddamn asscrack of dawn the next morning when the pair decided to head out and grab the fucking Crystal. Shit, fucking, just shit.
After a day full of annoying the shit out of Romano over it, America finally convinced the Italian to let them sleep together that night. And what a fucking horrible decision that was.
Romano was scared of the ghosts, sure, but America… that bastard just got downright spastic. He couldn't fucking keep still, and he kept shaking the bed, and pulling the covers, and just—fuck! Even when Romano finally did feel his eyelids get heavy, America just fucking whined about it! 'Nooo, you can't fall asleep before me, that's not fair!', and other shit like that. Son of a bitch.
And so, after a whole fucking night of neither of them being able to get to sleep, they finally decided to just go in and finish damn the job once the sun started coming up.
God, damn. Fucking fuck America. Fuck America, dammit!
Once they arrived at the temple, however, Romano's raging anger very quickly died down.
Fuck.
They were really going in there, weren't they? Into that, that… huge, ghost-infested, building.
…Fuck.
If Romano wasn't fucking terrified of the ghosts inside, and if the place had its regular maintenance done, then he would probably say that the building looked nice. It was a grand structure with breezy archways, intricate design, tall stained glass windows, and several beautiful spires. A river ran through the area, and the temple's foundation worked with it, taking in the current and dispersing it into several fountains and waterfalls, before the water eventually returned to its regular course.
But of course, like all the other buildings in this world, this temple was just fucking run-down, and mostly colorless. He heard that it was like a damn rainbow back in the day, though.
Also, it had crazy-ass fucking ghosts inside. Did he mention that already? Fuck.
"Hey man," America said, nudging Romano's shoulder. "You ready to go in?"
Romano took a deep breath, steadied his nerves, and gave a stiff nod. He fucking had this. All he had to do was focus on going home, and then the ghosts wouldn't be able to convince him of shit!
But, once they were inside… "I...I think I can see why the ghosts might be convincing," Romano said, taking a glance around. When America shot him a frown, he quickly added, "to someone else! Someone else, yeah."
"It is pretty dark…" the blond added, facing forward, frown not leaving his face.
"And dusty. And fucking abandoned."
"Yeah… But, I'm not scared!"
"... Right."
"Yup. R-right."
And with that, they started searching down a hallway, looking for the stairs. As they were doing that, Romano kept mentally reminding himself, they were doing this so they could go home, they were doing this so they could go home…
And when you're home, everything will be perfect, won't it?
There'd be top-quality Italian pizza and pasta there! And fucking modern things. And his actual house where he could take all the peaceful siestas he wanted. And of course, all the pretty girls there… the pretty girls who weren't magically empty of emotions, thank you very much!
And… that's it?
Fuck yeah, that was it! Always good to appreciate the simple things in life.
But you don't have a place in your world, do you? No one needs you.
Romano's breath caught for a moment, and he stopped walking. So maybe that was true…
"H-hey, Romano? You, uh… you all right?" America asked.
The Italian focused back on the present moment and turned to face his companion. After a long moment he finally answered, "Y-yeah. I'm fine, bastard."
"All right, then. Let's… let's keep going. This way looks like a de… d-dead end."
So they moved on, trying another way now, and Romano reminded himself again—he was doing this so they could go home!
Even though no one cares.
It's not like he ever cared what others thought of him, though! They didn't care about him, and he didn't care about them, dammit.
So you're thriving all on your own, then?
Romano loved being alone. He knew how to take care of himself, and he could live however he pleased; if he had someone else in his life, that would just be annoying.
Well, all right. Just keep telling yourself that...
The two of them rounded a corner then, and—yes!—there were the stairs!
Once they reached the second floor, they'd be even closer to the Crystal, and therefore, closer to getting home! And then Romano could eat, sleep, and flirt all he wanted!
Because that's all you need in life. Unlike anyone else, you can just keep going on those simple, fleeting things, can't you?
Well, whenever Romano tried doing something better with his time, it just didn't work out. He couldn't make beautiful art like his brother, and he didn't have the patience and kindness of Spain or Belgium, so he wasn't any good at that random community service stuff… And he knew, even the potato bastard could be good, because he helped his people with engineering or whatever…
But you don't bring anything to the table, do you?
Not at all, no…
Oh, but wait—there is one thing you gave to the world, isn't there?
Romano winced at the thought. Cosa Nostra. The mafia that started in his half of Italy, and now it's spread all over the world, causing trouble for a bunch of other countries…
Good job.
He still had trouble with them himself, too.
The next set of stairs wasn't too far, so soon enough, they were climbing up to the third floor. They were almost there now, and Romano reminded himself once again—they could get this done and then go home.
But. Was it really necessary for him to go back?
You just spread trouble to everyone else.
He never had anything good to give, only bad.
No one wants you.
His brother has Germany now, and clearly, his life is perfectly fine that way.
When he's with you, you just make your brother cry.
And he was never any good to Spain, either. The guy was just too nice and patient, and that was the only reason he could stay with Spain for so long.
If it were anyone else, they would've kicked you out a long time ago.
The only thing he gave Spain was frustration and broken furniture…
"Romano?" America called out, a few steps ahead. The Italian snapped himself back into the present moment—he didn't even notice that he'd stopped walking. "You sure you're okay?"
'No. I'm just hopeless,' was how he wanted to reply. "Yes… everything's fine." No point in worrying America, though. At least, he should keep going and get home.
"You don't sound all right. Do you need me to walk you back to the entrance?"
At that, he just blanked. What could he say? He wanted to keep going for America's sake, but he didn't think he could make himself sound convincing enough.
"Come on, then. Let's head back."
America walked up to him and placed a hand on his shoulder, trying to urge him to move. It struck Romano then—this hallway was very familiar. It looked exactly like the place from his nightmare a few weeks ago…
"Come on, Romano. We should call it a day on this one, all right?"
Oh, god. It was going to happen here, wasn't it?
"Romano?"
They were going to fail at their task because Romano was so…
...worthless.
"Dude, say something!"
And that was it. Even America would run out of patience. And to be honest, it would be completely justified.
"Romano!"
America was lightly slapping at Romano's cheek, and finally, he snapped out of it again. Blue eyes looked down at him, strained and concerned. "I, I'm here."
"Good," America said, and his shoulders slumped with relief. "Come on, let's get out of here."
"No. We should keep going."
"We should stop if it's too much. We can always try again later."
"It's not going to be any better the next time, but right now, we're so close. Let's just get it done with." America had no answer to that, so Romano continued, "at the very least, you should go back home as soon as possible."
At that, America just looked downright baffled.
And then another realization hit Romano—the ghosts. Right now, he just felt so hopeless, and… and, that was because the ghosts had been talking to him all this time, hadn't they? And so, what if… America had been through exactly the same thing?
"And… what about you? You definitely have to get back," America answered. "I mean—we both do, but don't make it sound like no one would care about you." And even though he tried to sound comforting, America looked so clearly despondent right now, and Romano felt his heart break.
"America, you're not worried that no one cares about you, are you?"
The blond only answered with a frown.
"Don't think about that! It's just the ghosts messing with your head, all right? Plenty of people care about you!"
"... If something's true, then it doesn't matter who said it, does it?"
"America!"
The blond shook his head then, and gathered his resolve. "Look, forget about all this, all right? You don't have to try and cheer me up. I get it. If you're so set on getting things done with now, then let's just do it."
"I don't want you to feel so hopeless, though!" Romano held onto America's arms and looked him straight in the eye. "Where would the world be without you, huh? And—what about England? You two are really close, right?"
"Like I said, don't try to cheer me up. You don't know what you're talking about, okay?"
Romano wanted to say something, but—well, it was true. He didn't know anything about America's life or relationships. How, then, could he convince the other man of anything?
"Come on, let's get a move on."
America tried to step away, but Romano tightened his grip, effectively getting the other's attention again. "S-so, maybe, I don't know enough about you or England or anyone to convince you of anything. But, America, it hurts to see you like this, and, I just want you to know… I… I really care about you, all right? I want you to get back home and be happy."
"...Um. What're you…what do you mean?"
A small smile slipped onto Romano's face. God, America was so sweet. He couldn't help it then… he tilted his chin up and leaned forward just a little, pressing his lips against America's. It was nothing strong or skillful, but instead, just a sweet little moment, before he pulled away.
And America, bless his soul, looked stunned.
And then… he looked upset again. Cold, even.
Everything inside Romano seemed to freeze.
"All right, I'm done," America said, and he sounded rather... harsh. "I'm at the end of my rope. Forget about the Crystals, all right?"
"Er—what!?"
"Don't 'what' me. I'm not as fucking stupid as you think I am. I can see what you're getting at." America's eyes hardened, and his lips pulled down into a tight frown.
Romano started to feel the adrenaline rush through his body. "I… I'm not getting at anything! Y-you're starting to freak me out, b-bastard." He tried to step away, but America's hand came down on his shoulder, gripping tightly. "C-come on, let go! A-and th-then, we can talk this out like normal, a-all right?"
"No."
Suddenly, the wind was knocked out of Romano, his back slammed against something hard, and he started choking on some kind of… dust, and he could feel the ache in his ribs again—America held both of his shoulders now, and he was pressed into the wall—he could barely see, from the corner of his eye, the way the stone was cracking from behind him, and a light dust of powder started falling from the cracks—"I hate you, Romano, I hate you so much. You think you'll just sweep me off my feet, and then we'll go home and you'll have me all to yourself, is that it?"
"What—no, I—" Any further response was cut off, as America wrapped his large fingers around Romano's neck and squeezed—it took all of his focus then just to keep breathing.
"God, I wish you were never around. You're so fucking pretentious. You're made up of everything I could ever hate, you know?" Romano tried pushing America's arm away, futile as it was, and so the blond grabbed his wrists and slammed them on the wall above his head, holding them down now with one hand.
And that was when Romano saw it—there, under America's right eye, some intricate black mark, that looked like it was made with a brush and ink by some expert artist.
With his free hand, America ran his fingers through Romano's hair, though the gesture was anything but gentle. And his face now—he was smiling, but it looked so twisted, so sadistic, and all at once everything seemed to freeze—Romano was going to die here, he knew it.
"It's always about how I don't understand real food," America continued, voice like acid. "Or I don't get clothes, or I'm just so stupid, and violent… and oh, how could I forget? I'm so fat and greasy, aren't I?
"But you—you're Italian! The Earth is blessed to have you, isn't it?" His hand moved down from Romano's hair to his jaw, and then down his neck. "You have the best food, by anyone's measure! And your looks are just perfect, and you're so clever, and yes, cultured. Everyone should be looking up to you, shouldn't they?"
Slowly, his hand trailed down Romano's chest, and fuck Romano just knew what was coming, but his throat felt tight and what could he do?—
"So, when I'm at my weakest moment, you're going to sweep me off my feet—should be easy since I'm so stupid and you're such a great lover! And then you'll have anything you want, is that it? Money, and power? The world's strongest nation, at your service!" His hand slipped under Romano's shirt, and then, fingers outstretched, it came to rest on his chest. "You're just miserable and fucking worthless, Romano. I should've gotten rid of you from the very beginning."
And that was when America just started to press, hard, into Romano's chest. A scream ripped through the weaker nation's throat—loud, and raw, and it filled the whole room—and pain surged out from his old wounds—
—And suddenly, he was on the floor, free from America's grasp. He heaved deep and painful breaths, and looked up to see America glaring at him, cold and hard.
"Get out of my sight."
Adrenaline and instinct took over then, and Romano wasn't completely conscious of it, but he staggered to his feet, ran down the stairs, ran down another flight, and out the door. He kept going, far away, to somewhere he didn't really know, until finally, he collapsed near a tree somewhere, out in some forest he didn't recognize at all.
He leaned against the tree, taking in heavy, painful breaths, and all the while, he couldn't get the image of America's glaring eyes and face out of his mind.
Author's Notes:
Whew, that took a while to finish! I knew I'd be writing this chapter since nearly the beginning of the story, actually! But then, when it came time to write it, I had to redo it over and over again, until I could refine it into something I liked. But hey, here we are!
Also, I just want to make it clear here—I'm not writing this to give any commentary at all on world history, or culture, or lifestyle choices, or anything like that at all! Everything here is just my best guess on how to write the characters, given their situation. And also it's just me trying to write something that's interesting!
Anydangway, lots of people get a holiday break around now, whether you're celebrating anything or not! So I hope y'all have a good one! And see ya next year!