Romano left the house around eleven-ish. He really didn't know where he was going. All he knew is that he needed to drive around, clear his head, and find a place to play in privacy. He loved his brother, he truly did, but what he really needed was time alone. He never really felt comfortable singing or playing around him.
As he drove, he thought about Spain. He didn't want, he truly didn't. In Romano's mind he was still a brainless, stupid bastard. He was annoying and always pestered him to do things he didn't want to do. And god was he so hopelessly happy. He was like Veneziano! Always smiling and bright whenever he was around. The only difference is that he was braver (or stupider).
So why? Why is it that when he left his life that Romano felt so . . . empty. He'd admit that Spain was his friend, his only friend, but this absence of the man in his life made him constantly feel like someone was repeatedly kicking him in the gut.
Romano had pulled over to a small lake that hardly anyone knew about. It was the perfect place for him to play and sing his heart out.
When he looked down at the papers next to him on the hood of the car. All of the lyrics, love lyrics. All about-"
He snatched the papers up, tearing them and tossing them in the air. It didn't really matter, Romano knew the lyrics and chords well enough already. But he didn't need them staring him in the face. He put his head between his hands.
The truth is he loved Spain. He loved him with all of his heart. He didn't always know it. But he knew when he realized all those years ago, when Spain sacrificed so much just for Romano against Turkey. Nobody had ever done that for him. And ever since then Romano's love for the man grew. With each little thing he did for Romano, simply because he cared touched Romano so deeply. Nobody had ever cared so much.
But he was afraid. He was afraid to get hurt. He'd already fallen so deeply in love he thought it would be easier to lose him on his own than to actually get hurt. To be betrayed.
Yes, Spain bothered him. He was all those things. Stupid, happy to the point where it was suffocating, and annoying. But he was also caring and wanted nothing more than for Romano to be happy.
It was near sunset when he realized it. He didn't want to be without Spain. He just couldn't. He got back in his car and drove.
He had driven about an hour and a half south of Naples, so he would have to travel just that much further to Spain. He'd also have to stop and get some food, and a place to sleep. He figured he'd be there in about a day and a half. Maybe two.
He'd also have to call his brother. When he last checked his phone he had two missed calls and a four texts. All reading the same sort of thing. Where are you? And When are you coming home. And also, Romano, where are you? Are you okay? And, of course, Romano, I'm scared, call me.
He drove for three hours. It was around ten thirty when he stopped to finally get something to fucking eat. He was starving! Then, after dinner, he checked into a hotel. He tried to call Feliciano, but it was midnight, and he doubted that he would be up anyway. Not surprisingly, he didn't answer. So he fell asleep.
When he woke up he'd seen that Feliciano had called him a couple of more times. He was about to call him back, but his younger brother had started calling. Romano sighed and answered.
"Yeah?"
"Romano?! Romano! Where are you? It's nearly ten o'clock and you're not home! Where are you? Where did you go?"
"Veneziano, shut up and listen to me, you idiot." The younger man was silent.
"I'm going on a small trip. I won't be home for a couple of days so you can just go home early, or go to your boring boyfriend in boring Germany. Don't ask me what I'm doing or where I'm going, and don't try to follow me. Capisce? Now, stop fucking calling me."
"But Romano-" He hung up before the smaller man could finished. He stuffed his phone in the bottom of his small bag, it was dying anyway. There wasn't much of a point to having it.
He checked out of his hotel at eleven thirty, ready to hit the road back on his journey to Spain.
Prussia had picked up Spain at France's house. Unlike Romano, he took a plane like Italy and took less time in getting there to pick him up. He and Spain were also taking a plane to Madrid. It was actually typical for the countries to travel by plane, but Romano was going on an impulse.
When they got on the plane Spain only looked out the window. Prussia rolled his eyes and dropped the shade on the hazed man. He shot his friend a look that could only be identified as what the fuck?!
"You really need to get over this. It's been almost a week."
"Yes, a week. I need more time to get over him."
"You're the one who ended it."
"There wasn't much to end."
"Exactly. You need to get back out there. Go find a chick and take her on a date." Spain glared at him. "Or a dude. I'm flexible. I could hook you up with someone."
"Thanks, but no thanks." Spain threw open the shade and looked back out the window.
"Come on! Just one date!"
"And I said no." He growled, not staring his friend right in the face.
"Antonio."
"Gilbert."
"Just one date, France and I think-"
"You and France don't need to babysit me. I can take care of myself."
"Yeah, you've been doing that so awesomely in the past week." Spain let out something between a scoff and a sigh.
"Fine." Prussia smiled triumphantly.
"And listen, it's not that I don't think that what you and Romano had wasn't special, but you two weren't even dating. No sense in moping over something that wasn't even there. Maybe once you find someone new you can patch up your friendship." Spain shrugged. As he leaned back in his seat, defeated and now dreading returning to Madrid, Prussia smiled. "Maybe we could also get you to take a shower by yourself."
For the first time in days, Spain smiled. He even let out a little chuckle.
"See, that's the awesome Spain I know." He teased, sitting back in his seat and watching a movie.
They both arrived at Spains house in Madrid. Spain flopped himself down on the couch, shoving his face in a pillow and happy to finally be home. He muttered something into the off white pillow that matched the rest of the couch. In fact, most of the living room was a whitish color with hints of black and dark brown molding or decoratives to give the room a less unsettling feeling and a more cozy look.
"What did you say?" Prussia asked as he walked over to the fridge. Spain pulled his head out of the pillow for a fraction of a moment to say,
"I said I hate flying," before he shoved his face back into the cushion.
"Ja, well, let's focus on the fact that you don't have any beer in this house! What kind of person doesn't have the awesome taste of good German beer?"
"I haven't been home for a few days, remember? And I'm more of a wine kind of guy." He said rolling over and facing the ceiling.
"Well why don't you be a shower kind of guy? You have a date tomorrow night?" Spain strained his neck to look up at his friend who had taken a seat besides him on the couch.
"You've found someone so soon?"
"Ja, I called them while you took a nap on the plane. He lives here."
"He? It's an hombre?"
"Ja. He's a friend of France's. He gave me his number and he lives here so I thought, why not?"
"Fine." The spaniard muttered, relaxing into the couch once more.
Italy called Germany later on that afternoon. Most of his stuff was packed and he was ready to go back to his second home on the outskirts of Berlin with his Germany. He smiled when he rushed downstairs and into the taxi, heading for the airport.
He pulled out his cellphone and called the man he was running home to.
"Hallo?"
"Ludwig, it's me, Feliciano."
"Italy, you don't have to say that each time you call. I have a caller I.D." He sighed.
"Okie dokie. I just wanted to let you know that I'm coming home early!" Germany felt his blood run cold, it drain from his face and still in his heart as he clutched onto one of the books he had in his hand. He tried his best to sound excited, luckily for him it was Italy.
"Oh, how early is early?" He said, flipping through the pages and re-reading the ones with post it notes. He looked at the positions and glanced at notes on how to make it hurt less.
"I'm on my way to the airport right now." Italy said happily. "I'll see you soon, my love."
"I'll see you. I love you too." He hung up. It was times like this where he really wished that Italy would call ahead of schedule. "Right." He got up, getting ready for his boyfriends arrival.