Romano put his guitar down next to him on the bed. He wanted to play but didn't want his brother to hear him from the other room. He was told that he had a beautiful singing voice, but still didn't like to sing around other people, not even in front of his brother. When he sang, he let out everything. He opened himself up and let out his deepest feelings, even ones he didn't know he had.
In the past couple of days he found himself writing love songs. The sad kind of love songs. He didn't want to admit it, but he missed Spain. Spain and Romano had been apart for a long time before, but Spain usually kept in touch. Not this time. There was no attempt to keep in touch, not through e-mail or the phone.
Romano looked down at his guitar. Rubbing the neck, his fingers lightly strummed over the strings. The guitar had been a gift from Spain. He remembered the day clearly.
It was Christmas, two years ago. Everyone had left and it was late at night. Spain had stayed a while longer to help clean everything up, he knew how much Romano disliked cleaning. Once everything was clean Romano slumped down on the rug beside the Christmas tree and beside the fireplace. He leaned back on the beige couch that they had pushed out, closer to the fire.
He took a sip of wine as Spain sat down next to him.
"Don't you think you've had a little too much to drink?" Romano rolled his eyes.
"I'm just a little tipsy. Besides, I'm going to bed soon so I don't have to worry about anything." Spain sighed, allowing Romano to finish his drink peacefully. "You know, I'm a little offended."
"Why would you be offended? Because I don't think that you should be drinking too much?"
"No." He paused. "Because you didn't get me a gift. I spent a lot of money on that necklace I got you!" Spain fiddled with the jewel on the end of the black chain. He examined the turtle shaped jewel. The shell of the turtle was made with Spain's birthstone color. A deep purple. Romano tried to convince him that it just a coincidence, but Spain knew better.
"Who says I didn't?" He asked, putting down the piece of jewelry and looking at the Italian. Romano looked at him suspiciously as he got up to go retrieve a large square shaped package from the broom closet down the hall. He quickly walked back, handing the large gift to him.
"Bastard," Romano muttered, "Why are you giving it to me now? Why not earlier?!" Spain shrugged.
"Just open it!" Romano shook his head, carefully unwrapping the package. quickly. Spain couldn't stop smiling, excitement filling him as he waited for Romano's reaction.
The man stilled as he opened the box. He looked down at the guitar in the case. It was a Taylor Acoustic, plain and simple. But what really made it was the signature on the bottom corner. He looked up at Spain, who smiled. Romano turned back down to gawk at the script on the bottom.
"I remember you saying that Andrea Bocelli was one of your idols, whose alive anyway. I figured I'd meet the man who influenced such a great singer and get his signature while I was at it."
"I . . . thank you. You remembered?"
"Of course I did!"
"Well, thank you. I love it."
"I'm glad."
Spain was always like that. Always attentive to what Romano wanted. It got him into trouble at times, more than Romano thought he was worth at times.
"Stupid bastard." Romano murmured. He placed the guitar off of the bed and pulled the covers over himself grumpily. His fingers found the light switch, turning off the lights and allowing himself to lay there in the darkness.
Feliciano climbed downstairs at around 9:30 in the morning. He woke up earlier than usual, thanks to Germany. Although Germany still found his wake up time late. Italy fixed himself a cup of coffee, brewing the hot liquid in a pot on the stove. As he waited for it to heat up, he walked over to the phone and dialed.
"Hallo?" Germany asked from the other line.
"Germany! It's me, Italy." The man chirped.
"Italy! I thought you said you would call as soon as you got to Romano's house! What happened?" He shouted over the line.
"I'm sorry, Germany. I forgot." He could hear the German sigh over the line.
"It's fine, just remember next time. Okay?"
"Okay."
"So how is Romano?" Italy twisted the phone cord in his fingers as he leaned against the door frame.
"He's not so well. He says he doesn't miss Spain and that he's fine, but I think he's lying."
"What makes you say that?" Germany asked. He kind of wished he could carry out the rest of this conversation at home, or in the car, anywhere but where he is now. Right now he was grabbing groceries at the supermarket with Prussia.
"He looked tired and messy, like he didn't shower for a couple of days. And when I got here there was no food in the house! And Romano always has food! And then I saw that he had a lot of songs written down, which he writes a lot of when he's mad or sad or sees a beautiful girl. And I know for certain he didn't see a beautiful girl because-" As Italy began to ramble, Prussia came back with two cases of beers in his hand. He shoved them in the cart, on top of everything. Germany scowled at him and moved the beers off of the more delicate items.
"Who's that?" The albino inquired.
"It's Italy."
"Hm? Germany, who's that?"
"It's Prussia."
"Oh! Tell him I said hello."
"I will, I'm going to have to hang up, I'm at the supermarket and am about to check out."
"Okie dokie. I love you, ciao."
"I love you too. Auf Wiedersehen." Italy hung up the phone. The coffee began to steam, a sign that it was hot enough to drink. As he walked over, Romano emerged into the kitchen.
"Who the hell were you talking to?" He grumbled as he sat down. His fingers ran through his hair and pushed it out of his face.
"Germany." Italy answered cheerfully. Romano gruffed and cracked his neck. Italy sat across from him at the table. The elders head shot up and he glared at his brother.
"Aren't you going to make breakfast?"
"We didn't buy anything yesterday for breakfast."
"Whatever," He said getting up, "I'll just eat something from last night."
"Um . . . Romano?"
"What is it?" He called from the refrigerator.
"Are you going to take a shower today?" Italy asked meekly. As soon as he asked, though, he soon regretted it. Romano's head shot up and he shut the fridge.
"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" His eyes narrowing and glaring.
"Nothing! You just kind of look . . . I mean you kind of smell . . . uh . . ."
"Say no more." Romano cut in. "I'm going to go shower and then I'm going out." He announced, exiting the kitchen.
"Wait! So we're not going to spend the day together?"
"I guess not you stupid ass." Italy slumped, setting his coffee on the counter. There was only one car that they both could use, so Italy would only be able to go to the places walking distance from the house. The problem being there wasn't a lot close by the house. I guess I'll just have to find another way to spend the day. Italy thought.
Germany shoved his phone in his pocket as he approached the check out counter. The girl behind the counter greeted the both of them with a toothy smile. She began to scan the items quietly.
"What did Feli have to say? How's Romano?" Prussia pestered.
"If it makes you feel any better, Romano is not doing so well without Antonio in his life. Though Feliciano says he's trying to brush it off."
"I see."
"That'll be 37,48." The girl behind the counter interrupted. Germany took all of his books out of the cart and placed them face down on the counter. He dug through his pockets, pulling out his credit card as Prussia put the cart away.
They payed and grabbed their groceries, Germany lastly grabbing his books off the counter.
"You're beer cost me half of the bill." The blonde complained.
"Only the best, West. Only the best." Germany sighed.
"Excuse me, sir!" They both turned around to see the girl from the counter, emerging from behind it to pick up one of the books Germany had unknowingly dropped. "You dropped your . . . um . . ." Germany's face flushed when he noticed that she had read the cover, accidentally. He quickly grabbed the book and walked hurriedly out of the door.
Prussia laughed, thanking the girl who walked back to her counter with a blush.