Romano stepped out onto the freshly cut lawn of France's house and sighed. Back at square one. Everything went wrong with his plan and he should've predicted it.

He contemplated running all the way to England's house, which wasn't far, but he had to escape…escape everything…

I can't confront him like this, Romano thought, humiliated. I need to switch back now!

Before he knew it, he was banging on England's door with all his might. England opened the door calmly.

"Italy? Fancy meeting you—oh right, you're Romano, I almost forgot," he said in a deadpan tone. Romano's eye twitched.

"England, dammit, SWITCH ME BACK RIGHT NOW!" Romano grabbed the Englishman's shoulders and shook them. All Romano wanted was for this to end; he didn't care how scary England was, because right now he was in a much worse predicament.

"I just told you the other day, you're going to have to realize that you and your brother are 'really just the same,' as I recall from the spell," he replied calmly.

"NO! I NEED IT NOW! I DON'T WANT THIS BODY ANYMORE, DAMMIT!" Romano's anxiety level rose by the second. He felt like everything he did just made it worse. He took a deep breath. "Prussia and France ruined whatever I wanted to experience because THEY KNEW ABOUT THE FUCKING SPELL!"

"You twit, stop yelling so loud," England said, but he had a tone of surprise in his voice. France and Prussia knew about the spell? Blimey, no wonder this Italian's gone nuts.

"Please—"

"ROMANO!" yelled a Spanish-accented voice. Romano jumped, and turned around. There was no running away now. Romano looked down, despairingly, which Spain misinterpreted as fear of the Brit.

"Hey, get away from my Romano!" Spain lifted his battle axe that materialized out of thin air and prepared to demolish England.

"Bloody wanker! Get that thing away from me!" England tried to remember the last time he actually held an actual weapon…it was a depressingly long time ago. "I didn't do anything!"

"THEN WHY IS HE CRYING, ASSHOLE?!" Spain roared. He prepared to literally decapitate him when Romano stood in front of him, shaking.

"BECAUSE OF YOU, YOU BASTARD!" Romano's voice box hurt. Italy's voice was too high pitched, and he couldn't take it anymore. It made him feel like an annoying prick. "Maybe Italy does get the advantages, doesn't he? I'll always be in the back."

Spain dropped his weapon, and spoke in a surprised tone. "Romano, I always love you the most, no matter what! Why would you think otherwise?"

"He's always perfect, that's why!"

"Romano, Italy's not perfect. Nobody is! Prussia told me once that Italy had a friend a long time ago—he wouldn't say who—who promised to return after the war, and Italy still misses him dearly."

Was that the guy in my dream? Romano thought. Then he remembered his childhood; even though he was basically unwanted, he was raised, tolerated and loved by Spain. And he was still here today. Now he realized that Italy wasn't always who he was on the outside, in fact maybe he was worse off, especially with that potato-bastard. A tear rolled down his cheek, he wiped it with the pack of his hand.

Spain embraced him warmly, but felt awkward because he wanted to comfort not Italy, but Romano. He missed Romano's green eyes, and felt strange staring into Italy's brown eyes.

"Romano," he whispered. "Let's ask England to change you back." Romano stared into his green eyes.

"About that…" he mumbled, looking away. Spain peeked over his shoulder to find England.

"England?" But England had closed the door already, and various clicks of locks could be heard from the inside.

"Um, I'm not interested in your personal business," he declared, his voice muffled by the door, "and I'd rather stay intact than have that axe up my arse." Behind the door, England could hear some fairies giggling at him nearby and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"England…I have the right mindset now, I think it's about time I change back, dammit," stammered Romano.

England scoffed. "I have better things to do," he stated bluntly, eyeing them warily through the peephole.

"Fine, we'll ask someone else," Romano said sarcrastically. "Maybe Norway or Romania….wait we need Italy for this don't we?" As if on cue, a brown-haired Italian came skipping towards them.

"Hey, I found you guys," Italy shouted. "What about Norway and Romania?"

Right then, England blew the door open with a rush of anger and shouted, "Fine, follow me." They followed him to the basement.

…

England raised his spell book and opened it to the page that he dog-eared just days ago. He reread the spell to check if the spell had been cast correctly (not that he had any doubt about it of course!). Spain was against the wall, lightly holding Italy's hand, still wishing it was Romano's, and Italy, in Romano's body, was waiting next to them.

England raised his wand from The Book of Reversing or Breaking Spells, and chanted the words, which were this time, written in Latin. Once again, a glow shimmered from pointed tip, and illuminating the room. His voice grew more and more intense, making the light almost blinding…

"Angleterreeee! What are you doing in that silly cloak again?" France sang.

"BLOODY NORA!" England stumbled backwards as he lost control over the incantation. Subsequently the light flickered and shot violently across the room.

With his butt on the ground, England scolded, "Frog face, I could've killed someone you know! Stop barging in!" He trailed off at the end as he felt a wave of intense sickness roll through him.

"FUCK YOU, French bastard, I was so close to getting back in my OWN FUCKING BODY…oh wait…I am!" Romano felt a sense of relief wash over him, happy to hear his own voice. He immediately ran to Spain, who hugged him tight. Italy smiled, touching his own face, quite glad that he was in his own body as well.

On the other hand, England was not okay. He stood up, putting his hand up to his head only to feel his fingers brush through silky long locks of blonde. No. Not again! He felt his chin. There was a stubble. His fears were indeed confirmed as he saw himself, quite literally, standing right in front of him.

"Blast it! Frog, what the hell did you do?" he said, his voice cracking due to his unfamiliar French accent. "Now I have to use a potion because the spell's been messed up!"

"Aww, well muchas gracias for changing my cute Italians back," Spain interjected, putting each hand on both Italians' backs. "See you tomorrow!" Before England could respond, Spain slammed the door. As they left they could still hear an argument that ensued behind it.

…

"Veneziano, m-mi dispiace," said Romano, leaning his head against the car window.

"Va bene," Italy said. "I didn't realize your feelings hurt that bad."

"Say, Italy, what about you? Can you tell us more about this childhood amigo of yours?" Spain asked shyly, hoping not to hurt his feelings.

Italy kept silent for a few minutes, then spoke. "Well, ve, I-I miss him…b-but I never saw him again…"

"You have Germany." The words slipped out Romano's mouth. It felt instinctive for him to say it. He felt that he needed to, because he was the older brother. "Germany loves you."

Italy smiled. "You're right, fratello. And you have Spain."

"Awww…mi tomate," Spain blushed. He tried to lean over and kiss Romano, but was pushed back as he nearly swerved onto the sidewalk.

"WAIT TILL WE GET HOME, TOMATO BASTARD!"

A/N: Don't worry, fellow readers! There will be an epilogue, for reasons involving a certain man with thick eyebrows.

Also, apologies for not posting translations, as I stuck to cognates and they should be understandable in context. Well, it's not too late!

Mi dispiace (Italian)- Sorry.

Va bene (Italian)- It's okay.

Please review! :D