I have a ton of people to thank! First off, I'd like to thank all of you lovely reviewers, but one reviewer needs 'special mentioning'.

Vio Kirkland! I cannot believe you liked it that much. I really honestly love writing sad fics. I think I'm going to start a multichapter fic that's sad. Bah. But onto why I need to thank you. You want to write the WORLDS reactions. That should be epically epic.

To be totally honest, I wasn't going to post this. I thought I'd get flames. But then I realized that if I didn't accept flames, I'd never be a successful writer.

Anyway, SPAIN TEIM

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia or the characters, but I do own an orange. And it is my best frand. Also, it is tye-dye.

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Spain, smiling his bright-as-always, oblivious smile, practically pranced down the street towards Lovi's house. He was coming to tell Romano something he'd been postponing for years, afraid of the tempermental Italian's reaction. He was in love with him.

YES. He knew it would make the Italian happy. He had caught the Italian's glances. The blushes. The small smiles sent his way. He knew his Lovi had been trying to hide it, but he didn't do it very well, or at least as well as he had thought.

Of course, it wasn't really surprising. Everyone had already thought they were together, but no, they were not. France and Gilbert had always asked him how his 'boyfriend' was doing. He had told them repeatedly that him and Lovi weren't together then, and then France usually yelled at him to 'make a move on him before I do!'

Reaching the front door of Romano's house, he paused, brows furrowing at the unusually open door.

'Hm...Lovi's door is wide open. He never leaves it open. Maybe Feli's over!'

Smiling at the prospect, he pushed the door open and walked inside, shutting the door quietly behind him. Creeping up the stairs, he held the rose behind his back and walked to Lovi's door. He furrowed his brows as he heard...sobbing from the other side?

He grinned as he opened the door, shoving it open' but not hard enough to where it made a loud. angry slam against the back wall.

"Lovi, I have to tell you so-" He began happily, then his gaze fell upon the silently sobbing, half asleep younger Italian laying on the floor, clutching tightly at a beautiful painting. Suddenly Feli looked up, eyes widening and he then broke out into loud sobs, puncing into the Spaniard's arms.

"SPAIN!" He cried, holding him tight and sobbing into his shoulder.

"F-feli? What's wrong? Where's Lovi?" He cried, worried. It took very few things to make the Italian cry this hard, and he was sure Lovi had something to do with it. Pointing a shaky finger out the door, Feliciano whispered in a cracked voice, "K-kitchen..."

Setting Feli gently down onto the floor, Spain quickly took off, flying down the stairs at record speed. He flung himself around the door frame of the kitchen with his hand, panting and out of breath. What he didn't expect was to slip in a sticky, red substance that coating a large portion of the tile floor.

And what he did certaintly not expect was HIS LOVI, laying in the middle of the pool, not breathing nor moving. Not in the slightest. In a tiny, shaky voice, Spain whispered, "L...lovi...?"

Without an answer from the pale Italian, Spain found himself burying his face into Lovi's neck without hesitation, screaming.

"LOVINO! N-NO! Come back! D-don't leave me, por favor!" His screams to no avail, he clutched the Italian's bloodstained shirt and sobbed heavily. It felt like his heart was shattering, breaking into so little of pieces he almost had no heart anymore. His entire brain shut down. All he could see or feel was Lovi in his arms, limp and cold.

Before he knew what he was doing, he pressed his warm, chapped lips to Romano's cold, unresponsive ones, kissing him gently with tears flowing down his cheeks and onto Romano's face.

Pulling away, he kissed Romano on the forehead before breaking down into more sobs, pounding his fists into the puddle of blood, uncaring about his now bloody fists.

"P-please...you can't be dead...who did this? I'll find them and kill them, kill them and make it hurt!" He was snarling angrily now, and he slammed his fists down again but this time, his left fist hit a lone piece of notebook paper that was laying, abandoned on the floor.

Wiping his bloody hands off onto his shirt, he picked it up with unsteady hands and opened it, trying to hold back his sobs that were building up in his throat.

He started to read what was written in what he recognized as Lovi's scribbly, I-need-to-write-this-now-damnit, handwriting.

'I don't know who will find me first, but I'm betting on fratello and Antonio.

Spain, if this is you, I wanted to tell you...I've been in love with you for years, bastard. But you never noticed, did you? All you cared about was your precious Feliciano, doting on him and caring only for him. I hope whatever happens, that you forget about me and go on caring for him. The only thing different is that I'm not there to try and steal your attention away. A part of me hopes you'll give a damn about this, and another part of me knows you won't. At least I'm not around to have my heart broken anymore, right?

Italia, if this is you, I love you too. We didn't have the close bond a lot of brothers have, but I still loved you. But clearly, I loved you a lot more than you loved me. I know you won't care when you read this, and I hope you don't. I hope you keep going on, taking care of our people and land. Enjoy Spain, I was never good enough for him anyway. Do me a favor. When you're done reading this, go up to my bedroom. There's something on the bed for you.

To anyone else who finds this...arrivederci.'

The piece of paper slipping from his hands, Spain stared at his hands in horror. It was...his fault. All his.

He was the reason his unannounced love was laying in a pool of his own blood. Him. Lovi thought he didn't love him. He thought he had been in love with Feli. He did love Feliciano, but like a big brother would! He loved Lovi like a person he wanted to spent the rest of his life with!

As though it were an uncontrolled reflex, his hands were immediately at his hair, pulling at his own brown, curly locks in fury.

'Why? Why! It's...all...my...fault. All mine...Lovi, y-you were...right...I'm a BASTARD!'

Breaking, he wrapped his arms around and under the Italian, holding him close to his chest. He whispered repeatedly, as though Lovi could hear him at this very moment, "...I love you...te amo...s-so much...I'm so sorry..."

He pressed his face into the crook of Romano's neck, where there would usually be a pulsing beat against his face. There was not.

He suddenly wished...that he had told him sooner. That he hadn't given Feliciano as much attention as he did. That he would have spent more time with his favorite Italy, and told him he loved him before all of this. Maybe it could have been prevented. He could have stopped this. He could have.

Setting Romano gently down again, he stood up, his knees almost buckling. Gripping the edge of the granite counter, he spotted the gun a little ways away from Romano's left hand. He started towards it.

'I...could still be with him...all it takes is one shot...'

Then he remembered.

-FLASHBACK, ABOUT TWO WEEKS PREVIOUS-

"Spain..." Romano started, staring at his feet. It was the break in the meeting, and him and Spain were the only ones in the room. The rest were on some wild goose chase to catch Sealand, who had stolen all the papers for Germany's speech.

"Hm?" Spain looked over at the seemingly sad Italian, his eyes widening. "Are you alright, mi tomate?"

"Y-yes...I'm fine...bastard. But...can you promise me one thing?" He said quietly, still not looking up from staring at his Italian leather shoes. He was twiddling his thumbs, biting his lip gently.

"Of course! I'll do anything for you!" Spain said brightly, grinning. Romano suddenly glanced up from his feet, his eyes sad and unhappy.

"If...for some reason...I ever die...don't kill yourself. Just...don't. You can li-" He was interrupted by the laughing Spaniard.

"Of course, Lovi! Why would I kill myself? I'd never do something so estupido!" He said, hoping that appeased the Italian. Romano stood up, pushing his chair over and not meeting the Spaniard's eyes.

"Of course...that was a stupid question. Why would you?" He said quietly, walking out, not looking back, head hanging.

As soon as Romano shut the door behind him, tears began to stream down his face as he walked off.

If only Spain would have realized...this would be the last time he saw his Lovi alive and breathing healthily. His last oppurtunity to say the three words he should have said a long time ago.

-END FLASHBACK-

He put his face onto the counter. He had to keep his last promise. He had to. For Lovi. He wouldn't do anything...

He whispered quietly to himself, eyes closed.

"Te amo, mi tomate..."

And the tears continued to fall.

And he dropped the rose. It fluttered to the ground softly, landing in the blood. It was the same rose...Romano was going to give him, all those years ago.

...

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...Wow. Guess what? Probably not last chappie! Might write an epilogue~!

Btw, the rose was plastic, for those who wondered, "Wait, how the hell did a rose last that long?"

Review! Plazz! :D If I can get at least five reviews, you get an epilogue ;)