Germany flipped through his book, turning on the small table lamp next to him. The sun had already set hours ago. It was pitch dark outside. Germany glanced up, hearing the first telltale signs of rain softly hitting against the window.

He sighed and looked back down at the chapter he was on: Tips on Maintaining a Healthy Relationship. He started slowly reading, trying to take in every sentence. Sure he and Italy were dating, but he always just had to be sure he was doing everything perfectly. Because he's Germany.

He knew it was weird, but no matter how long he and Italy would date, Germany was sure he'd always think it was a dream. The only thing really letting him believe otherwise was the small brunette sleeping soundly against his arm, his soft breathing the only sound in the room.

There was a flash, and a low rumble. Germany glanced up at the window. The rain, which just a second ago had been a quiet drizzle, was now pounding violently against the window. Germany sighed, flipping to the next page. He wondered in the back of his mind how Romano's date was going. He'd told Italy that he'd pick Romano up when he called, but it was past midnight already. Maybe Romano was just going to spend the night there…

No sooner had Germany thought that that there was a loud thud against the front door. Germany jumped slightly, tensing up. He set his book down and turned toward the door. He frowned. Had he just imagined—but no, there was another thud. No, not a thud, a knock this time. Who was knocking at half past midnight?

Germany groaned, standing up and shifting the smaller Italian gently against a pillow. Then he walked over to the door, unlocking it and pulling it open. "It's the middle of the night. Who the hell—?"

Romano looked up at him, his eyes red and his clothes soaked. Germany froze. "Romano? W-What are you doing? Weren't you supposed to call? Did you walk home? Mein Gott, why the hell—?"

"Shut up…"

Germany stopped again. Romano's voice had barely been over a whisper. Romano didn't even glare at him, just stared ahead with an empty, defeated look in his eyes. Germany didn't say anything. He stepped back, letting Romano slowly trudge past him. "Are…you okay?" He asked after a moment.

Romano stayed silent. He strode past him, past his younger brother, and out of sight.

…

"You idiot! Why the hell would you tell him to say that?"

"What? N-Non! Zat's not even what I wrote, 'e just started spewing nonsense, I swear!"

"Verdammt, what're we going to do now?"

"I-I don't know!" France looked up at Spain. "'e 'asn't moved," he murmured.

Prussia swallowed. He walked over. "H-Hey, uh, Spain." He gingerly grabbed his shoulder. "S-Spain, are you alright?"

Spain didn't answer at first. Then he slowly turned toward the others. "He…He hates me…" he managed to whisper, a broken look on his face.

Prussia and France exchanged looks. France walked over and gently grabbed his arm. "Come on, mon ami, maybe you should just go sleep… We'll fix everything in ze morning."

"He hates me…" Spain repeated, almost as if he didn't hear. France sighed and started leading him up a nearby set of stairs. Spain just followed numbly. Romano hated him…

…

Romano woke up to the sun hitting his eyes. He blinked once. And he lay there. He couldn't move. Everything felt so numb. His arms and legs, and his chest. It was like there wasn't anything in it anymore. A hollow shell. That was all that was left. Just a hollow shell…

He stared blankly at the clock on his bedside table. It read ten O'clock. Then eleven O'clock. Twelve O'clock. One. Two. Why did it matter anymore…?

A little before three, there was a loud knock at the door. "Romanoooo!" A voice called. "Romano, wake up! You gotta wake up! You missed pasta! And it's almost siesta time! You can't sleep the whole day! Germany always gets really mad at me when I try! Come on, please Romano?"

Romano glanced up at the door. He slowly pulled himself out of the warmth of his bed. He'd been sleeping for hours, but he still felt drained, exhausted. He shuffled to the door and slowly pulled it open.

Italy straightened up. Then he smiled brightly. "Romano! Finally, I thought you might've been dead, but Germany said that was stupid, so I decided to check on you! I'm glad you're not dead! Yay!" He hugged him.

Romano stared blankly over Italy's shoulder. Then he walked down the hall, pushing his brother off of him. Italy blinked. "Romano? Why're you being all quiet?" He walked after him. Then his eyes lit up. "Oh, Romano, I forgot to ask! How was your date with big brother Spai—?"

There was a muffled yelp as Germany clamped his hand over Italy's mouth. Italy looked up, startled. "Germany—?"

"Come on Italy, why don't we eat some pasta and leave your brother alone for a bit?" Germany suggested quickly. "C-Come on, let's go."

Italy frowned. He'd never turn down pasta, but why was Germany suggesting it? He looked over at Romano. "Romano, is…something wrong?" He asked after a moment.

Romano stood there for a second. He tried to think of something to say. Finally, he just glanced up at his brother, a dull look in his eyes. "Everything."

…

Spain stared up at the ceiling, watching the light from the cracks in the window blind slowly move across. For once in his life, he couldn't sleep. He just kept replaying the night before in his head. Over and over, he was stroking Romano's cheek. Again and again he was leaning closer, staring at those soft lips, that beautiful face… And he was pressing his lips against Romano's…feeling his eyes shut…feeling the warmth from Romano's cheeks…

Spain shook the image out of his head. Why? Why did he do that? He'd just wanted to make sure Romano was okay. He hadn't been trying to do anything. Why was this happening? Why was his heart pounding so hard? It was Romano he was thinking about. Romano of all people! Spain had practically raised him!

And now Romano hated him…

Spain flinched and shut his eyes. There was a sharp stinging in his chest. Romano hated him. Romano hated him. The words just repeated in his head. Romano hated him. Why had Spain been so stupid? How could he have just destroyed their friendship in a single swoop? Romano hated him. His chest felt like there was a knife being drilled into his heart. Romano hated him. His eyes were starting to sting. Romano hated him. Romano hated him. Romano…

"Spain…uh, bonjour."

Spain opened one eye. France was leaning over the side of the bed, smiling weakly at him. France and Prussia had both fallen asleep on the floor next to the bed. They'd been arguing through the night, about who had messed of the worst. The standard argument, but for once it was a fairly intense one. Prussia was still asleep against the wall behind France, several small bruises on his head.

"So, uh, I see you're awake," France began weakly.

Spain stared at him. Then he rolled onto his side, away from France. France sighed. "Come on, mon ami, cheer up!"

"Why?" Spain asked dryly.

France frowned at him. "Come on, you need to get up!" He started shaking Spain by the shoulder. "You 'ave to go talk with Romano! Come on, I'm sure ze poor boy is at 'ome crying 'is poor eyes out. You need to go cheer him up and—"

"Why?" Spain asked again.

France paused. "What do you mean 'why'?" He asked.

"What's the point?" Spain said softly, "Romano…Romano hates me."

France stared at him. "What's ze point?" He scoffed. "What on earth is zat supposed to mean?" He smacked the back of Spain's head. "What's ze point? Honestly." He shook his head. "Really, Spain, I am disappointed. 'ow much more clearly do we need to make it? Do we need to spell it out for you?"

Spain glanced over his shoulder. "What do you mean?"

France shook his head. "Come on, Spain, it's obvious for everyone else besides the two of you. Anyone else besides the two of you!"

Spain rolled over to look at his friend. "What are you talking—?"

"Everyone else can see it. Every time you look at 'im, every smile you give 'im, we can all see 'ow much you care for 'im. And every time 'e blushes and turns away… Mon dieu, Spain, your people are supposed to be some of the best lovers in ze world! Just think for a moment!"

Spain thought about it for a second. What was France talking about? He was talking about Romano. That was it. About Romano, and how cute his face got every time he blushed. About that weightless feeling Spain felt every time Romano smiled. About those eyes…and hair…and…and…

"I…" Spain shook the feeling out of his head. "France, could you stop being so confusing?"

"For the love of god, it means you're in love, Schwachkopf!" A second voice piped up loudly. Spain jumped slightly and looked up at Prussia, who looked livid. "I mean, mein Gott how much move obvious could you be about it! You're always staring at him with that stupid, love-sick-puppy face and you practically stalk the kid wherever he goes! You. Love. Him."

Spain stared at him. He opened his mouth. Then closed it. Finally he mumbled, "W-What?"

Prussia rubbed his eye. "And people keep saying I'm the dumb one…" he yawned and leaned back.

Spain stared at him for a moment. I…I what? He turned away, staring at the ceiling. I…I what? He shut his eyes tightly, thinking hard. About Romano, and how cute his face got every time he blushed. About that weightless feeling Spain felt every time Romano smiled.

About that pounding in Spain's chest every time their eyes met…

…

"…oh my god…"

Spain looked up at the other two. "I…I-I love Romano," he whispered, eyes wide.

Prussia groaned. "Wow, amazing. You are a genius." He gave a weak applause.

"I-I…I am in love with Romano!" He repeated. "O-Oh, my…holy…I am…" He grabbed France by the shoulders. "I love Romano!" He shouted, shaking him back and forth.

France grabbed his arm. "Oui, yes, okay, you are in love, yes, we've established zat, stop shaking me." He pushed him back slightly.

Spain was grinning ear to ear. Then he froze. His face fell. "But…" he let go and fell back onto the bed. "But Romano hates me."

France looked at him for a second. Then he smiled at him. "Well, we'll 'ave to fix zat, won't we~!"

…

Romano sat at the kitchen table, stuffing tomatoes into his mouth. He stared blankly at the table. He still felt terrible. His eyes were probably puffy and bloodshot by now (not from crying, mind you), and his head was pounding like there was an anvil inside (probably just the result of allergies, of course).

In his depressed state, even the tomatoes, a vibrant and juicy color of red, tasted like crap. "Damn it," he mumbled, dropping the tomato back onto the plate. "Hey Potato Bastard, did you touch these? They taste like shit."

Germany looked at him. "Why would it matter if I—?"

"They taste HORRIBLE! And they're tomatoes!" He threw the tomato at Germany, who had grown used to this treatment and ducked. Of course, Italy, who was standing behind him, had no such luck.

"Ve!" He wiped the tomato off of his face. "It tastes okay to me!"

"Shut up!" Romano threw the plate at him. Italy managed to duck this time.

"Wah, w-why are you so mad Romano?" Italy stammered.

Germany glanced down at his book. "Don't worry too much about it," he told Italy. "It says here that feeling angry is a perfectly natural part of going through any tough break-up—"

"WE WERE NEVER DATING YOU STUPID PATHETIC ASSHOLE!" Romano screamed.

Germany flinched. "E-Err, right, ja, I mean, uh…" He looked back down to see if his book had any suggestions of what to say.

Italy decided to help him out. Unfortunately. "Ve~ Don't worry Romano, I'm sure Spain will come back and then the two of you can start going out again and—"

Romano punched Italy in the face. Italy yelped and stumbled back. "W-Wah, Romano, w-why did you do that?" He sniffled. "Why—?"

"S-Shut up," Romano spat, trying to keep the tears filling his eyes from showing. "Y-You moron, we were never…" Romano trailed off. He sat back down. "J-Just leave me alone."

Italy pouted. He looked over at Germany. "Germany, does your funny book say anything to cheer him up?"

Germany frowned at him. "I'll have you know that this is an extremely informative—"

"Germany…"

Germany sighed and looked back down at the book. "Let's see…it says after any tough break-up—err, uh, argument between platonic friends, it is important to utilize your other friends as a support system, to help you through your times of need. Also, you probably shouldn't punch any of them…" He added quietly.

Romano looked up at him. Then he started laughing. Germany blinked. "U-Uh, it wasn't funny—"

Romano ignored him. "Perfect!" He shouted. "That's it! I'll just hang out with some of my other friends! That'll show that stupid tomato-eating-shit that I don't need him! Ha!" He whipped out his phone.

Contacts:

Spain

Veneziano

Spain :)

Potato (for emergencies and/or prank calls)

Boss Spain

Police

Mafia (You currently owe €100,000)

Look Romano, I added my number to your phone a few times! Now you won't forget to say hi to me, right~? -Boss

Romano stared at the list for a moment. Then he shut his phone. "…oh yeah…" he mumbled.

Italy hugged him. "Don't worry Romano! I'll be your friend!" He assured him.

Romano shoved him roughly away. "Idiot. You don't count. Go away." He buried his face in his hands.

Italy thought for a second. "Oh, Germany can be your friend~!"

Germany stiffened. "U-Uh, Italy I highly doubt that is a plausible idea."

Italy stared at him. "W-What? Why not?"

Germany sighed. "I doubt that Romano wants me as a friend—"

"That's a great idea, Veneziano."

Germany and Italy froze. They both looked over at the darker haired Italian, a strange, cold smirk slowly spreading across his face. "Yeah, that sounds like a great idea."

Italy and Germany stared at him. Then Italy smiled. "Really? Yay! Germany and Romano are finally gonna be friends! This is so great~!" He hugged the both of them. "We should celebrate with pasta!"

Germany stared at Romano. "…um, what're you talking about…?"

Romano just smirked back at him. "Come on, 'new friend,' why don't we go play for a bit? While Veneziano makes some pasta or something." His smile seemed to get bigger.

Germany gulped. "Uh, Italy, I really think this isn't a good—"

"I'll start making the pasta sauce!" Italy skipped happily into the next room.

Germany watched him go. He turned toward Romano. "Uh, okay, you hate me. What exactly are you talking about with us being, erm, 'friends'?"

Romano leaned back. "What, can't I just want to make a new 'friend'? Besides, pal, you see, friends… Well, the best thing about them is they do things for one another!"

Germany blinked. "They…uh, what?" He scratched the back of his head. "No thank you, I think I'd prefer life." He turned quickly.

Romano leaned back in his chair, propping his feet up on the table. "How sad," he replied. "I mean, poor Veneziano was just getting sooo exited…"

Germany paused. "Wha—?"

"And, I mean, what's he going to think what his 'wonderful boyfriend' doesn't want to help his poor, lonely older brother in his time of need?" He added, smirk just growing with each word. "I'm sure he'll be heartbroken." He shrugged. "Well, have fun with that argument."

Germany blinked. Oh Gott… He glanced over toward the kitchen, where Italy was happily humming some ridiculous tune. He grimaced. Scheiße… "U-Um…oh Gott, this is going to end badly, isn't it…"

Romano just smirked back at him.

Well, it seems that Romano has found a way to cheer himself up! Poor Germany... I think I might have fun with this next chapter~

Now I just need to get over my cold.