Germany and Romano stood silently outside of the house. Germany looked uncomfortably over at the smaller Italian next to him. There was a nerve-racking gleam in Romano's eyes. Germany glanced longingly back at the house. "Listen, uh, Romano, I understand that you'd be angry but—"

"Hey potato ba—I mean, buddy, you wanna play a game?"

Germany blinked. Then he sighed. "Um, no, not in particular—"

"Come on, friend, why don't we play a game?" He roughly grabbed Germany's wrist and started dragging him off. Germany could've probably just shoved him off, but since Italy would've gotten upset he decided to just follow and hope for the best. Oh Gott…

After a bit of walking, Romano pulled an apple out of his pocket. "Let's play a game," he said again, tugging Germany's arm's and jerking him down so he was low enough to put the apple on his head. "It's called 'shoot the potato'."

"But this is an apple—"

BANG

Germany yelped and ducked, as the apple seemed to explode off of his head. He looked up at Romano, who was holding something resembling a gun. "U-Uh, nice shot…" he murmured weakly.

"Shut up idiot, you made me miss."

Germany quickly wrestled the gun away from Romano, opening it and removing the bullets as quickly as possible. "J-Ja, right, why don't we play a different game?" He suggested quickly. "A-A different game…"

Romano thought for a second. "Nah, I don't wanna play shitty games anymore. How about we take a drive?"

Germany gulped.

…

The Bad Touch Trio were standing in a small floral shop. There were flowers as far as the eye could see. Daisies and roses and lilies row by row. Of course, France was enjoying himself immensely. Especially when a pretty clerk asked them to either buy something or leave.

France handed Spain another bouquet of flower off of the shelf. They'd been looking for what felt like hours. This one was mostly large, red roses. "Zis one!" France finally decided, a triumphant smile on his face. "Zis one is perfect~!" He patted Spain's shoulder. "What could be better than a bouquet of roses?"

Spain glanced down at the flowers. "Uh, gracias," Spain said. "But what am I supposed to do again…?"

France sighed. "Well, you need to give 'im ze flowers! And be sure to speak clearly when you apologize, that is ze most important part!"

Prussia glanced up from the oddly colored Venus Fly Trap he'd found in the back of the store. "And compliment him a ton, that always helps."

Spain nodded. "Okay, give him the flowers, apologize, and compliment him. Or…" he thought for a second, "or do I compliment him first? Then give him the flowers and…no, wait, that would be all wrong. I should give him the flowers, compliment him, then, uh…oh, apologize, because that's most important!"

France and Spain sent each other worried looks. "Um, oui, zat is ze important part," France repeated. "Spain, you need to do zis right. It is important."

Spain nodded again. "Important. Right. Don't worry, I can do this!" He smiled at them. "…so do I compliment him first?"

France and Prussia both took a deep breath.

…

Romano sighed. "Well that was dumb," he said calmly stepping out of his red sports car. Germany pitched sideways out of the passenger side, landing face first on the dirt. Romano glared at him. "Hey amico, let's go do something else."

Germany shakily got to his feet. "Y-You know, isn't it your siesta time?" He asked weakly. "Ja, go take your siesta. Y-You like siestas right?"

Romano looked at him with an annoyed look. "It's not even close to siesta time."

Germany groaned. "Oh come on, when the hell is your siesta anyway?"

Romano smirked at him. "Maybe I won't even take one today," he replied. "I'm having so much fun."

Germany grimaced. "Oh. Right," he sighed slowly.

Romano thought for a second, and pulled a small pocket knife out of his pocket. "Hey, I just thought of another game."

Germany inhaled deeply. "Have you now."

"Yeah," the devilish smile on his face seemed to grow. "Alright then, buddy, close your eyes for a second."

Germany glared at him. "Nein, this is getting out of hand. Listen Romano, as much as I'd like to see what my insides look like—"

Romano suddenly stiffened, eyes widening. Germany paused. "Huh? Romano?" He asked slowly. "What're you—?"

Romano grabbed his arm and dragged him behind a nearby tree. Germany yelped. "A-Ack! W-What kind of game is this? Romano, what on earth are you—"

"Romano~!"

Germany stopped. He turned and peaked out from behind the tree. Spain, France, and Prussia were striding by, looking around. Spain was smiling and calling Romano's name, some flowers hidden (badly) behind his back. "Romano! Where are you?" He glanced around. "You sure you saw him?"

Prussia nodded, looking around. "Ja, I could've sworn I did. He was over here, talking to my bruder."

Spain laughed. "Romano? Talking with Germany? I think you're still drunk, amigo!"

Prussia scowled. "Hey, I haven't drank anything for at least an hour!"

"An hour?" France repeated skeptically.

"Give or take a…a while. Why?"

The three of them continued past Germany and Romano's hiding place, still chatting about Prussia's drinking habits. Germany frowned. He glanced down at the Italian standing next to him. Romano was staring at the ground, his jaws clenched tightly. Maybe Germany was imagining it, but at that moment, Romano's resemblance to his brother was undeniable. They looked the same when they were close to tears.

Germany glanced away. Something about those Italians and tears always seemed to get to him. He gave Romano a weak pat on the shoulder. "Uh, I don't really know what happened, but don't worry too much about it…"

Romano elbowed Germany in the stomach as hard as he could. Germany grunted and stepped back. "Bastard!" Romano screamed. "Get the f*ck off of me! I don't need any of your worthless pity! You're a pathetic piece of shit!"

Germany sighed. Brotherly resemblance over. "Right sorry—"

"Y-You know what?" Romano hissed. "How about we play another game."

Germany groaned. It seemed that seeing Spain had just incensed him more. "Romano, if you'd just calm down for a little—"

"Why don't we go play near that cliff over there? Yeah, that sounds fun." Romano grabbed Germany's wrist tightly and dragged him sideways. "Let's go see that cliff."

Germany gritted his teeth. Then he yanked his hand away. Romano yelped and fell to the ground. He looked up. "Hey!" He yelled. "What the hell is your problem—?"

""What's my problem?" Germany practically screamed, eyes flashing. Romano shrunk down slightly, startled. "What the hell is your problem? You're the one that's been dragging me around for the past several hours, just going out of your way to try to make my life hell, and you think I'm the one with the problem? Why? What the hell are you accomplishing with this? Tell me Romano, does this make you feel better? I have absolutely no idea what the hell is your problem is, or what Spain did to upset you, but whatever it is, I'm sure you deserved it!"

There was a long silence. Romano stared up at him. Shaking slightly, he stood up. "…w-well…y-you…" He stood there for a moment. "I-I…" He looked away. Then he turned. "Fine. Go away. S-Stupid bastard." He stormed off quickly.

Germany sighed. That probably wasn't a good idea…

…

Romano walked for maybe fifteen minutes before he started slowing down, until he came to a stop in the middle of town. There were people walking slowly by, none of them bothering to look up at the lone boy close to tears standing in the street. He angrily wiped his eyes with his sleeve. "Stupid bastards. All of them. I hate them."

He just stood there for a few minutes, trying to clear his head. Which was difficult with crowds of people shoving their way past you. He could've laughed at how ironically alone he felt if he'd felt up to the task, but instead, he just started roughly pushing through.

His head felt light. He really just wanted to go home and curl up for a while longer. To sleep, and sleep, and never have to wake up.

He sat down on a nearby bench.

Hell, there wasn't even a point for going home. He could just curl up here, crawl into some godforsaken gutter and never be heard from again. It wouldn't make a difference, would it? Who would even bother looking for him? Not Veneziano. Not Germany.

Certainly not Spain…

Romano slowly shut his eyes.

…

"Bonjour~!"

Two sets of hands grabbed his arms. Romano yelped and jerked awake from his siesta. France and Prussia smiled down at him, pulling him up off the bench. "We've been looking everywhere for you!" France chided with a laugh, patting Romano's shoulder.

Romano stared at them for a second, still confused and groggy from his nap. Then he snapped out of it. "What the hell are you doing?" He screamed, trying frantically to squirm out of their grip. "Let go of me! Bastards!"

France patted his head. "Now why would we do zat~?" He replied. Prussia laughed. The two continued dragging him down the street. It was practically empty now that most people would be taking a siesta.

"Get the hell off of me you bastards!" Romano shouted again.

Prussia shrugged. "Okay, since you asked politely." He and France shoved him forward. Romano cried out and stumbled forward. And he collided against someone's chest.

Romano stood there stiffly for a second. Then he slowly looked up. Two twinkling green eyes were staring down at him.

"Romano!"

Romano jumped back, eyes wide. He tried to back up farther, but the last two thirds of the trio seemed to be blocking his escape. Spain's face fell for a second, but he smiled at the small Italian. "Um, hi Romano! Uh…how've you been?"

Romano felt sick to his stomach. "Shut up," he hissed, hoping the waver in his voice went unnoticed.

Spain frowned for a second. He glanced up at the two standing behind Romano. France motioned him to continue. Prussia gave him an encouraging thumbs up. Spain nodded. "Right! So, uh, first I…" he thought for a moment. "Oh yeah! Romano you look really cute!"

Romano stared at him. Cute. Why did he keep saying things like that? He didn't care. He didn't care about Romano. Romano was nothing more than a plaything to him. He felt like he was drowning. He couldn't breathe.

He tried to back up more. He wanted to just sprint away as fast as he could. He felt France frantically motioning to Spain. Spain looked over, and back down at Romano. He suddenly seemed nervous. "U-Um, right yes, so, um…next I…next I give you flowers… O-Oh yeah!" He pulled the flowers he was holding from behind his back. "Here you go Romano!" He thought for another second.

"Oh! And I'm sorry that I kissed you!"

Romano flinched. He looked up at Spain for a moment. Spain still had that stupid smile on his face. He was…sorry. He was sorry. He was sorry for kissing Romano. Romano's throat seemed to close up.

There was a strangling silence. Spain's face fell slightly, feeling like he'd done something wrong. "Romano? What's wrong? Are you okay?"

"Y-You…y-you know what?" Romano whispered, feeling the tears streaming down his face already. "I'm sorry too." He hugged himself and turned, shoving through the two standing behind him and running as fast as his legs could carry him.

The three just stood there. Spain stared at where Romano had run. He took a few steps and paused. "W…What did I do wrong this time?" He asked his friends softly. Neither of them moved. Spain shut his eyes. "H-He was crying."

France shook his head. "Of course 'e was!" France shouted. "What on earth were you thinking? You can't say somezing like zat! Ugh!" France buried his face in his hands.

Prussia sighed. "Well, I guess we're on to plan ß!"

France glared at him. "Why on earth is it plan ß?"

Prussia rolled his eyes. "'Cause I think we're out of letters from your alphabet."

France sighed. "Fine, fine, we'll call it plan ß. I think we should number our plans from now on."

"Why? There're plenty of other alphabets! We could use one with those funny characters! Those have to have plenty of letters!"

"I don't care!" France turned away toward Spain. "Alright, you definitely need to fix zat last—"

"No."

France and Prussia paused. Prussia walked over quietly. "What do you mean no? Listen, if it's that big of a deal, I'll go along with the numbering thing France—"

"No. I'm done."

France frowned. "What do you mean 'you're done'?"

"I mean I'm done. Finished. I don't want to do this anymore." He looked up at his two friends. There were tears welling in his eyes. "Look where your advice has gotten me. Romano hates me. He's never going to speak to me again. Everything you guys have done has made it worse. I just…I don't care anymore."

France glared at him. "'ow can it not matter to you? You love 'im! That 'as to mean somezing to—"

"Shut up, France, I'm going home."

Spain turned, leaving his two thunderstruck friends staring after him. Prussia spoke up. "So you're just giving up? Just like that? You can't just—"

"Don't you guys get it?" Spain snapped, wheeling around. Prussia and France jumped. "Romano hates me! Because you two wanted to help! Where has that gotten us? Ever? I…I'm done seeing that look he always gives me! I'm done with…with his hate. He hates me. I'm done. So are you two. So…" He turned again, ignoring his tears. "So I'm going home."

They stood there a moment longer. Spain slowly started the long walk home.

ß is called an Eszett. It is one of the extra four letters in the German alphabet. In case you cared.

I think this might actually be close to wrapping up. Sorry it always takes so long everyone.