"So what do we do now?"

France looked up at Prussia. For once he'd almost forgotten he was there he was so quiet. Prussia looked back at him. "What do we do now?" he repeated.

France smiled weakly and turned. "What else? We go 'ome."

Prussia furrowed his brows. "Home? So what, are we going to come up with a plan at your house?"

"No. We're going to go to our own 'omes and getting on wiz our lives."

Prussia stared at him. "So…we're giving up too?"

France shrugged. "Spain doesn't need our 'elp. What's ze point?"

Prussia scowled at him. "So what? Was all that crap about 'true love' just pointless shit?" Prussia exhaled sharply. "And for a minute I believed you." Prussia shook his head. "Believing something so stupid…"

France paused. "Stupid? Prussia, 'ow could you same zat? Love is—"

"—pointless," Prussia interrupted, crossing his arms. "If we don't try to help Spain out, it's just pointless, isn't it?"

France stood there for a moment, thinking about that statement. He looked over at Prussia, who was smirking slightly. "I mean," Prussia added, "if you're giving up so easily…"

France couldn't help but smirk back slightly. "Sometimes I wonder what is in zat head of yours." He shook his head. "But I suppose zere must be somezing in zere."

"Of course. It's full of pure awesome."

…

Romano was lying on his stomach, his head buried in a pillow. He felt sick. Angry. He just wanted to curl up and die. He clenched his teeth tightly, trying to hold in a small sob.

Why are you crying Romano? Spain's voice rang in his ears, happy, kind, they way he always sounded. Here, I know something that could cheer you up! Fusosososo~! Fusososo—

Romano covered his ears, burying his face deeper into the pillow. "GODDAMNIT!" He screamed. He felt a sob escape his lips. "…damn it…" he whispered.

The door creaked open. Romano didn't bother looking up. "What do you want?" He murmured, his voice hoarse.

Germany paused. "Err, I was just going to apologize and…and, well, ja. I'm sorry." He paused again. Romano didn't move. Germany coughed uncomfortably. "…listen, I doubt that lying on your bed is going to help, so…so, uh, you're brother is making pasta. So, uh, get up."

Romano didn't answer. What was the point? Germany stood there for another minute, wondering what he should do. Finally he turned and left, trying to make as little noise as possible.

Romano didn't move. Shut his eyes and let himself lose consciousness.

…

Spain closed his eyes, trying to keep tears from streaming down his face. He'd locked himself in his room as soon as he'd returned home. He hadn't even gotten any food. He just flopped onto his bed.

He felt weirdly numb. Why was that?

He lay there. And lay there. Hours later, he was still lying there. And staring at the wall. He couldn't help but wonder, what was Romano doing? Was he still upset? Was he crying? Just thinking about it made his chest hurt.

Romano…he'd been crying. Spain had made Romano cry. Ugh, why am I so STUPID? He thought bitterly. He ran his fingers through his hair. Why?

He sighed and pulled the pillow over his head. He could hear his phone ringing softly from nearby. It was probably one of his friends. He didn't bother picking up. He just wanted to sleep for a while…

…

Prussia and France were sitting in Prussia's room (otherwise known as Germany's basement). Prussia was thinking as hard as he could, drinking a large beer and staring at his cell phone with a scowl. France was looking nervously around the room, half expecting some sort of animal to crawl out of the mountains of clothes piled on the ground.

"Um, so…" France began, tentatively clearing off an old chair and sitting, "where is your brother?"

"I don't know. Probably at Italy's," he replied. "So you have any ideas? He's not answering his phone…"

France frowned at him. "You're supposed to be coming up with ideas too."

"I get my best ideas when drunk."

"You get your worst ideas when drunk," France corrected dryly. He sighed. "Do you think we're coming at zis the wrong way?"

"Coming at what?" Prussia asked, finishing off his beer.

France rolled his eyes. "Zis! All of zis! I mean…Spain and Romano love each other, right?"

"Why're you asking me? I thought you knew."

France ignored him. "So…if we could just get zem to talk to each other…"

Prussia laughed. "Scheiße, France, what the hell do you think we've been doing?" He sat up, stretching slightly. "The only way we're going to get those two to actually talk is if we lock them in a closet together or something."

France froze. Then a devious smile slowly spread across his face. Prussia glanced over at him. He frowned slightly. "Uh…France…?"

…

"Romano, eat your pasta!" Italy begged weakly, tears in the corner of his eyes. "Please Romano? Pretty please?"

"I'm not hungry," Romano answered softly, staring down at the large, heaping plate that his brother had being forcing at him for the past several minutes.

Italy pushed it closer to him. "Romanoooo!" He whined. "It's not good to not eat! Especially pasta! You love pasta! Please eat, Romano, you're starting to scare me!" He looked even closer to tears.

Romano ignored him, pushing the food away. "Can I go back to bed?"

Germany coughed. "Err, I'm going to have to have to agree with Italy—"

Romano glared at him and Germany coughed again, glancing away. Romano just stood to his feet. "I'm going back to bed."

Italy grabbed his arm, pulling him back to the chair. "Romano, please just eat a little bit! It's dinner time! You've barely eaten all day!" Italy bit his lower lip. "I don't want you getting sick or anything big brother…"

Romano just glared weakly at him. "Why does it matter?" He replied softly. "Just leave me alone…"

Crash

There was a loud smashing noise, as if a cannon had crashed through the roof. All three of them jumped. Germany looked around. "What the—?"

There was another crash. And suddenly, something white crashed through the ceiling.

Prussia sat up with a dazed look, coughing. He shook the debris out of his hair and hopped to his feet. "Hey guys! Hope you don't mind, I'm gonna borrow this for a bit!" He grabbed Romano's arm and hoisted him to his feet.

"H-Huh?"

"Ve~ Hi Prussia!"

"Bruder, what the hell are you doing?" Germany snapped.

Prussia grinned at him. "Plan Ü, arschloch!" He shouted, sprinting past, dragging Romano behind him.

France suddenly ran past them, after Prussia. "Ze front door was open you idiot!" He shouted angrily. "Prussia!"

They both ran out the door. Germany and Italy stood there for a minute, stunned.

"…Germany?"

"Ja?"

"Was that Prussia and big brother France?"

"Ja."

"…"

"…"

"I hope they have fun!"

Germany rolled his eyes.

…

"You bastards! Get off of me!" Romano screamed as loud as he could, squirming violently and kicking out at the two bastards dragging him out of the house.

Prussia laughed. "You really need to stop saying that!" He tossed the Italian into the car. Romano hit the leather seats with a small squeak and scrambled right side up. Before he could make a break for it, Prussia was pushing a cannon through the door. "I knew this was a good idea~! Kesesese!"

France rolled his eyes, climbing into the driver's seat. "Oui, a 'good idea'," He replied sarcastically. "Just get in ze car."

Prussia hopped in. "Alright, let's get going!"

The car took off. Romano fell backward against the seat, staring around wildly. "You crazy bastards!" He shouted.

France and Prussia seemed to be ignoring him. "So, France, when do you think we'll get there?" Prussia asked, chugging another beer and fixing his seat so it leaned back.

"G-Going where?" Romano yelled.

France spoke up. "Oh, it'll probably much later in the day. It will 'ave to be night time by zen, won't it?"

"Going where?" Romano shouted louder.

"Oh, ja, probably." Prussia yawned, folding his hands behind his head. "Jeez, this is going to take forev—"

Romano grabbed his throat. "WHERE THE HELL ARE WE GOING?"

Prussia yelped and leapt forward, out of the Italian's grip. He coughed, rubbing his throat for a minute. Then he turned toward Romano, pretending like he'd just noticed him. "Oh, hallo Romano! How're you doing?"

"Let me out!" Romano hissed, diving at the nearest door.

Prussia just shook his head. "Oh Romano, are you really going to try leaving a moving vehicle? Well, I mean, not that you can unlock the door, but still!"

Romano glared back up at him. "Where the hell are we going?" He snapped again, realizing he couldn't get the door open.

France chuckled at this. "Oh come on, mon ami, where do you think we're going?"

Romano gave him a blank look. Then he froze. "…we're…" He blanched. "I… DAMN IT LET ME OUT OF HERE! I SWEAR TO GOD!" He started banging his fist against the door. Then he grimaced, realizing that, well, that hurt. "S-Shit!" He turned toward them. "If we're going to Spain's—"

"Oh, wow, he does have a brain," Prussia mumbled.

France yawned. "Who would've thought?" He replied.

Romano glared at them. "I don't want to see that pathetic bastard!"

France's hands tightened around the wheel. "And why is zat?" He asked, frowning. "Maybe if you could just listen to what 'e 'as to say…"

Romano glared at him. "I don't want to hear what that piece of shit has to say! He is stupid and pathetic and I never want to see him again!" He paused. "And what the hell is wrong with you guys? Are you both insane? Why the hell do you two even care?"

"Because we're Spain's friends," Prussia replied. "And, well, we're trying to help him. And, to be honest, we're trying to help you too."

"Why? And how do you think you're doing that?" Romano asked dryly.

"You love 'im."

Romano stiffened, hearing France speak. "W-What?" He stammered, feeling his face heating up already. He swallowed slightly. "I-I…No I don't! No way in hell!"

Prussia laughed. "Kesesese~! You sure about that?" He asked.

"Yes!" Romano snapped.

"Positive?"

"Yes, I am!"

"Come on, Romano, are you completely—?"

"I DON'T KNOW!" He screamed.

There was a pause. France and Prussia both glanced back at the confused Italian sitting in the back. He was staring at the floor, jaw clenched and close to tears. He looked lost, scared. Neither of them said anything. They decided to drive the rest of the way in silence.

…

A while later, they were parked in front of the gigantic mansion that Spain called home. Romano stared up at it, blanching. "I-I'm not going in there," he said slowly, rooted to the spot.

Prussia and France stood next to him. "Of course you're not," they replied. They both pushed him forward, identical smirks on their faces.

Romano started trying to dig his feet into the dirt, trying to slow them down. "Get off," he protested. "I'm not doing this!"

"Of course not," they replied again, pulling him through the doorway.

"Stop doing that!" Romano yelled, struggling frantically. "Let go of me! I hate you! Bastards! Chigi!" He started kicking at them again, wishing someone would help him. "I don't want to talk to him! I-I can't talk to him! Leave me alone!"

They pulled him up the stairs. "Stop squirming," Prussia told him. "I think Spain might get pissed off if you fall down the stairs."

Romano was panicking. "N-NO! GET OFF! I CAN'T DO THIS!"

France shook his head, walking over to Spain's bedroom door. He knocked lightly. "Bonjour? Is anyone zere?" Without waiting for an answer, he pulled a key out of his pocket. With a flourish, he unlocked the door and pulled it open. "Good luck!" He told Romano brightly.

"I-I can't—"

Prussia shoved him inside.

Here we go, chapter eight! I think it's getting close to ending. Maybe just another chapter or two. Thank you all for your comments!