Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The clock read 4:43 AM, a time that was both very late into the night and very early into the morning. Romano’s eyes were barely open as he stared at the glowing red digits on the alarm clock. He watched them change second by second, his face blank and tired. It annoyed him, the way time moved so quickly, especially in the dead of night.

The man stared aimlessly at the irritating clock for a while longer before turning his eyes away. Instead, he looked up at the white ceiling of his room. A sight he had grown far too accustomed to in recent days.

He should have been sleeping. He knew that. There was an early morning meeting at his brother's place to discuss their country as one, which was pretty rare. Normally, their regions were treated separately, so if both parts of Italy were involved, it had to be something important. However, even so, he just couldn't seem to sleep.

It was infuriating.

Romano wasn’t the type to stay up late, staring at random parts of his room like a crazy insomniac. If anything, he was the total opposite. He loved sleep more than almost anything. If he could, he’d spend half his life napping. But lately, no matter what he tried, he just couldn’t fall asleep anymore, and the worst part was, he didn’t even know why.

Ok that wasn't entirely true. He had a pretty good idea of what was keeping him up at night. It was probably overthinking. But there was no way he’d admit that. Overthinking was for lame, uptight idiots like… like that bastard, Germany! And there was no way in hell he was going to compare himself to a stiff, rule-obsessed jerk like him. So, for now, he’d just call his overthinking...

Erm...

Well, he'd call it...

...

Damn it all! He couldn’t even come up with a decent synonym to make it sound cooler!

Fine. Overthinking it was. Ugh...

Anyway, moving on. His stupid, STUPID brain just couldn’t seem to shut up anymore, and it made no sense, because he’d never been much of an overthinker to begin with. Sure, he occasionally analyzed things or certain people (usually out of spite), but never in his life had he spent hours overthinking anything, especially not when he was trying to sleep. Yet now, that was all he seemed to do, and it was driving him up the wall.

For the past few month, his nights had been filled with him tossing and turning in bed, unable to find a moment of peace as he thought about everything. And by everything, I mean absolutely EVERYTHING.

Some nights, his mind was filled with worries about his country’s economy and politics. On others, he found himself thinking about how hard it was to express what he felt or open up to people, even those he cared about. Then there were nights when he lay awake, bothered by how few friends he had, realizing he couldn’t name a single person he felt truly close to outside his family. But sometimes... it was his brother who occupied his thoughts, and those nights were the hardest.

He couldn’t help feeling jealous of Veneziano, even though it made him feel awful. Deep down, he cared about his brother a lot, even if he didn’t show it often. But no matter how much he cared, he couldn’t stop comparing himself to him. It always seemed like his brother was perfect, like everything came easily to him, while he was left struggling to keep up. Veneziano seemed to shine in a way he never could, and it made him feel small and unimportant. He hated feeling that way, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t stop. He couldn’t stop seeing his brother as everything he wanted to be but wasn’t.

Romano knew it was stupid to let these things keep him up at night, and he felt pathetic for thinking about them so much. He kept telling himself to just get over it and be stronger, but that was easier said than done.

The thoughts... goddamn them... simply wouldn't leave him alone.

He’d tried everything to fix his insomnia: guided meditations, herbal tea, blackout curtains, even cutting back on coffee (a decision that felt like betraying his entire culture), and sleeping pills. Yet nothing seemed to work. Well, except for the pills. They helped a little, but not enough... not as much as Romano would’ve liked them to, anyway.

Night after night, he either flopped around in bed, paced restlessly around his apartment, scrolled through his phone, or sat by the window watching the city below, glaring at the happy-looking people passing by and envying them for having a far better time than he was.

It felt cruel for him to be subjected to such torment. No, it WAS cruel. Sure, he was a nation, and the lack of sleep couldn’t kill him, but that didn’t make the experience any less unbearable.

For one, he was always exhausted. It made him irritable, quick to snap at others, and say hurtful things he didn’t even mean, especially to people he cared about, like his brother and Spain. On top of that, his head constantly ached, like his skull was being split apart. And he could hardly concentrate on anything, especially during meetings, which made him seem like he didn’t care about the world’s problems. That wasn’t entirely wrong, but that wasn’t the point! Lately, his lack of focus had become more obvious, and it was starting to really bother him.

He had already missed countless meetings because he was so drained. And while he honestly couldn’t care less about those meetings, he didn’t want to keep it up. If he did, people might start thinking he was a lousy nation, and that wasn’t the image he wanted for himself.

Part of him felt like he somewhat deserved this suffering. After all, he wasn't exactly the nicest person to have walked the Earth. Yet another part of him was certain he didn’t deserve any of it, wishing for whatever entity had cursed and singled him out to burn in a pit of flames, because it was grossly unfair for him to have to bear all of this pain while the rest of the world lived in peace and harmony. If he was going to suffer, the other nations should suffer as well, damn it!

However, what he did or didn’t deserve didn’t really matter. He was suffering all the same. Complaining wouldn’t change anything, it only made things worse. What Romano truly needed was the ability to shut his brain off when he went to bed, so he could have some peace and quiet for once and actually get some sleep. But that wasn’t possible, so he was stuck overthinking and barely getting any rest at all.

Great.

His life couldn't get any worse.

Letting out a sigh, the Southern nation ran his hands over his face, rubbing his eyes in a futile attempt to ease his tiredness. But it was no use. He was far too exhausted for anything to help. Pressing the heels of his palms against his eyes, he sank into his pillow for a moment, muttering curses under his breath before finally forcing himself to get up.

He glanced at the clock again. It was 5:38 AM. Damn it. He’d have to get up in an hour or two for that stupid meeting. There was no way he’d make it through the day if he didn’t get at least an hour of sleep. Ugh. If only he could punch himself in the face and knock himself out cold, then maybe he’d finally get some rest. Unfortunately, he wasn’t a fan of pain, so that wasn’t really an option.

Clicking his tongue, Romano made his way to the kitchen. He flipped on the lights, grabbed a bottle of pills from the island, and carelessly tossed it onto the table. After pouring himself a glass of water, he sat down and took out three pills, then hesitated before adding two more for good measure. He swallowed them all in one gulp, pushed the glass aside, and slouched in his chair, resting his chin on the table. Pulling out his phone, he set it in front of him and checked to see if he had any messages.

“Ugh…” he groaned when he saw he had none, his bloodshot eyes glued to the glowing screen. “I fucking hate my life.” he muttered bitterly, fighting the urge to slam his head against the table.

The Italian stayed on his phone for almost an hour before the pills finally kicked in, and he dozed off at the kitchen table while watching some crappy YouTube video. It wasn’t the most comfortable place to sleep, but at that point, he didn’t care.

About an hour and a half, maybe two, later, Romano woke up with a stiff neck, an aching back and a pounding headache. He stretched briefly before leaning back in his chair, slumping so low he was almost sliding onto the floor.

He felt like absolute shit and had no energy to do anything. The best way to describe it would be that it felt like a bus had run him over three times, and was now backing up to make it a fourth.

He stayed slumped in his chair for a while, letting out a few tired yawns. He probably would’ve stayed that way much longer if the annoying ringing of his phone hadn’t interrupted his pity party.

The man shot to his feet, nearly dropping his phone in the process. He brought it closer to his face, squinting at the screen to see who was calling.

“Veneziano…?” Romano muttered in confusion, wondering why his brother would be calling so early in the morning, especially since neither of them were morning people. He stared at the phone for a moment before the realization hit him like a bolt of lightning. “Fuck! The meeting!”

He glanced around the kitchen for a second before looking back at his phone, debating whether he should try to get ready for the meeting and blame his ridiculously late arrival on traffic or some other lame excuse. But he quickly realized there wasn’t much he could do at this point. So, with a sigh of defeat, he answered the call.

He barely managed to mumble a greeting before his ear was assaulted by a barrage of incoherent sentences and loud, unintelligible gibberish. The noise was so overwhelming that he had to pull the phone away from his ear and cover it with his other hand, trying to recover his temporarily lost hearing.

“Bastard! Are you trying to make me go deaf?!” he shouted into the phone, cutting off his younger brother's rambling. “The fuck's wrong with you? Speak slower, damn it!”

There was a brief moment of silence before Veneziano’s voice returned on the other end, quieter this time and more coherent, though still tinged with panic.

“I’m so sorry, fratello!” the younger man cried, dragging out the last word dramatically. “I didn’t mean to burst your eardrums!” he confessed, his tone so apologetic that Romano could practically picture his sad, pleading expression. “Please don’t be mad!”

“Whatever...” Romano muttered, then added, “I’m not mad, so stop whining. My head hurts.”

“Ahh, I’m so glad!” Veneziano exclaimed joyfully, making the older man roll his eyes at his behavior. “Anyway, how much longer until you get here?”

Hearing Veneziano’s words, Romano’s expression tightened, and he silently cursed himself for being so damn stupid. “Uh, fuck…” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “Well, you see…” he began, cringing at how unsure he sounded.

“Yeah?” his younger brother said quickly, his voice full of excitement. Then he gasped. “Wait! Don’t tell me—you’re just as excited as I am!”

“No that's not-”

“Because I’m really excited!” Veneziano started rambling again, completely ignoring Romano’s quiet protest. “It’s been so long since we’ve both been invited to a meeting! Usually, when there are problems up north, there aren’t any in the south, and vice versa. But now there are issues in both our regions! How cool is that?” he babbled quickly, then slowed down, realizing how ridiculous that sounded. He let out an awkward laugh. “...I mean, how totally uncool is that. Nation problems are bad!” he tried to sound serious, but it only made him sound like he was mocking the whole thing.

“Right.” Romano replied flatly, pinching the bridge of his nose in annoyance. His brother had way too much energy sometimes.

A brief silence fell between the brothers before the younger one spoke up again. “Sooo… when are you getting here?”

At that, the Southern nation let out a long sigh. He hated disappointing his brother, especially when he was so excited about something. It made him feel like a total ass. But there was nothing he could do. It wasn’t like he could just teleport to the meeting. If he could, he would’ve done it already.

Romano didn’t respond, which made the other man let out a confused “Huh?” before asking, “What’s wrong, fratello?”

Romano bit his lip in thought, furrowing his brows as he tried to figure out how to sugarcoat his words. Unfortunately, he’d never been good at that, so he came up empty-handed.

Letting out a quiet click of his tongue, he sank back into his chair. “I’m not coming.” he said flatly.

"Eh?! Why not?!" Romano heard his brother cry out from the other line, prompting him to once again pull the phone away from his ear. "Did something happen?! Are you ok?!"

"Ow, mio dio! What have I told you about yelling in my ear, you dumbass?!" Romano snapped, his face twisting in discomfort as his headache worsened.

"Oops... sorry." North Italy mumbled apologetically before hesitantly asking, "But... why aren’t you coming? We were supposed to give a presentation together..."

“Because… well,” Romano began, not really wanting to tell Veneziano the truth. “Because… I…” he stammered. “I don’t fucking feel like it!” he finally snapped, deciding that defensiveness was his best option. “Perché diavolo (Why the hell) are you asking me so many fucking questions? I just don’t want to come, alright? That’s it!” his tone grew louder, almost desperate, and as the last words left his mouth, his voice cracked ever so slightly, betraying his real feelings. The realization only made him angrier, and he nearly groaned in frustration at his own inability to hide them.

Veneziano didn’t say anything for a long time, making Romano think he’d hung up. Honestly, he would’ve preferred that. At least then he wouldn’t have to deal with this any longer. But, of course, that didn’t happen. Nothing ever did when it was something he actually wanted. The universe seemed to love denying him that.

“Did you…” Veneziano finally spoke again, his voice no longer carrying its usual cheerfulness. Instead, it sounded worried. “Did you not sleep again…?”

Well, great. So much for hiding his feelings from his brother. How Veneziano always managed to figure him out was a mystery Romano would never be able to solve.

He had mentioned his sleeping problems to Veneziano a few times, because he was only human... well, nation, but same thing... and he needed to vent somehow. His brother was one of the few people he trusted enough to confide in. Spain, too, but he didn’t want to worry him.

Of course, he hadn’t told him everything. He wasn’t about to come off as some pathetic older brother. He’d only mentioned that lately he couldn’t sleep properly anymore. He hadn’t said what was really causing his insomnia, but even that little bit had been enough for Veneziano to realize it was something that genuinely bothered him.

Romano opened his mouth to respond, but the words caught in his throat. He swallowed hard, then let out a quiet “Yeah…” realizing there was no point in trying to lie anymore.

“Oh…” the Northern nation murmured, that single word carrying more sadness than it should have.

Romano drummed his fingers on the table, trying to distract himself from the conversation, but it wasn’t working. He shook his head and forced himself to sound more apologetic, hoping to change the subject since he really didn’t want to talk about this anymore. “Look, I’m sorry for missing this stupid meeting. I know it was important to you and all, but I—”

“No, don’t apologize!” Veneziano cut him off quickly, his voice rising with alarm. “I couldn’t care less about the meeting right now! I’m worried about you!” he admitted, doing exactly what Romano didn’t want to happen and bringing the conversation right back to his sleeping problems.

“Ah, I see...” the older Italian muttered, his voice trembling slightly. “Well... well, don’t be, alright? It’s not a big deal!” he suddenly snapped. “I don’t need your pity! I’m a full-fledged nation, damn it! I’ve been through way worse than a little lack of sleep, like war!”!he blurted out. “So, this? This is nothing! Just another shitty situation that'll pass, like all the others, and I won’t even feel it!” he added, trying to sound convincing, but he didn’t. Instead, he just sounded desperate. “So... don’t worry, cause it's pathetic.”

Veneziano let out a sigh. “I can't...” he replied, his voice barely audible. “I know you're strong, but this has been going on for a while, and... I just don't want to see you suffer...”

Romano pressed his lips into a thin line, his heart twisting painfully at the other's words. Why did his brother have to say things like that, things that made him want to break down in tears? It was so unfair. Why couldn’t he just be harsher, act like he didn’t care, so Romano would be forced to man up?

The fingers of his free hand curled into a fist on the table, his nails scraping against the wood as he tried to hold back the many emotions building in his chest. “Shut up…” he muttered, tightening his grip on the phone. “You’re making me feel like some stupid weakling…”

“That’s not what I—” North Italy started, but another voice cut him off in the background, muffled and hard to understand. Veneziano said a few quick words to whoever it was before turning back to Romano. “I have to go now! The meeting’s starting, and Germany doesn’t want me to be late again!” he said, his voice full of panic. “He gets really scary when he’s serious, especially his face!” he added with a nervous laugh, then suddenly screamed. “Ah! I just imagined it! Now I’m scared!”

Hearing that, Romano’s sorrow and anger disappeared in an instant, replaced by a wave of disgust. Ugh. Germany. He hated when Veneziano mentioned that bastard! How could his brother possibly like that guy, let alone date him? There was nothing appealing about him at all. He was just a muscle headed idiot with terrible fashion sense who couldn’t read social cues. The thought of being in a relationship with someone like that made Romano’s skin crawl, and he actually cringed at the idea.

“Ugh...” Romano groaned, fighting back the urge to gag.

“I know! It’s so scary!” his younger brother agreed obliviously, then suddenly seemed to remember what he’d said earlier. “Anyway, I have to go now. Everyone’s already here, and Germany won’t let me stay on the phone during meetings, so I can’t talk to you!” he said, his voice carrying a hint of sadness. “But don’t worry! As soon as the meeting’s over, I’ll come by and check on you, like a good brother!”

“I wasn’t worrying, you bastard...” Romano muttered. “And you don’t have to come. It’s not a big deal.” he added, though his words lacked sincerity. Truthfully, he wouldn’t have minded having his brother over. It might actually do him some good, help take his mind off things.

“Nonsense!” Veneziano said confidently. “You're my fratello maggiore (Older brother)! I want to do whatever I can to help you!” he added with a cheerful tone, probably smiling like he always did. But the cheer in his voice quickly faded, replaced with hesitation. “But, uh... what should I tell everyone about why you’re not here? I don’t think you’d want me to tell them the truth...”

“Damn right!” Romano snapped, his tone sharp as he shook his head. “Don’t you dare say a word about this, or I swear I’ll never talk to you again!” he said quickly. The last thing he wanted was for anyone to know about his problems. “Just tell them to mind their own damn business and stop sticking their noses where they don’t belong, like a bunch of nosy bastards!”

“Ehh... okay, I’ll just say you’re not feeling well,” the Northern nation said. “Anyway, try to get some rest until I come visit you later, okay?” he added softly before suddenly yelping. “Ah! I really have to go now! Germany’s glaring at me like he’s about to kill me!” he said in a rush. “Bye for now, fratello! Take care!”

Romano barely had time to respond before his brother hung up with a sharp beep, leaving him alone in the silence of his house.

The dark-haired brunet stared at his phone for a moment before sighing softly, pushing it aside on the table, and resting his head beside it with a heavy thud. He didn’t know what to think about any of this. He was just so tired, tired of life, of people, of everything. All he wanted right now was to sleep for weeks, to shut everything out until he finally had the energy to live again. Because honestly, this messed up life of his was getting harder and harder to stand.

Damn this.

The man stayed there for a while, letting the seconds slip by before finally forcing himself to get up, moving slowly like even that was too much effort. He walked to the kitchen to make some coffee. It was going to be another long, miserable day, so he might as well enjoy something he liked, and then do nothing.

His eyes wandered to the clock on the wall. It was 8:23 AM. On second thought, knowing how bad the meetings usually went, he figured he might as well make lunch for when his brother came over.

He could already imagine Veneziano complaining about being hungry, and honestly, he couldn’t blame him. Sitting in a room full of nations was enough to drain anyone’s energy. Plus, Romano needed something to keep himself busy. He knew he wouldn’t be getting any rest, and he didn’t want to keep thinking about everything. Cooking seemed like the best distraction.

“Oof... what a mess.” Romano muttered sourly.

.
.
.

A few hours later, around lunchtime, Romano sat at the kitchen table with Veneziano, eating the seafood pasta he had made, or at least trying to. It was hard to enjoy the meal with his younger brother talking nonstop about that stupid meeting. And it wasn’t even about anything important, like updates or decisions. Instead, Veneziano went on about random things, like the other nations’ hobbies and bits of gossip he’d heard, none of which mattered. Listening to him felt more like listening to a teenager ramble than to a grown man. Sometimes, Romano seriously wondered how his brother had managed to make it this far in life.

Romano picked at his food, only half-listening as his brother switched between talking too fast, like he was in a race, and stuffing food into his mouth. At least Veneziano seemed to be in a good mood. Then again, he always was. He had this strange ability to stay positive about everything, even in the worst situations. It was a trait Romano found both admirable and annoying.

“So, did you?” Veneziano suddenly asked, pulling the Southern nation out of his thoughts.

“Huh?” Romano muttered, turning to his brother with a confused look. “Did I what?” he asked, tilting his head slightly.

North Italy frowned, shaking his head in disapproval. “Were you even listening to anything I just said?” he asked, crossing his arms in an exaggerated, almost childlike manner.

“Whatever.” Romano shot back, rolling his eyes. He turned away and shoved a spoonful of pasta into his mouth.

Thankfully, his younger brother wasn’t the type to stay upset for too long. In an instant, he was back to his normal cheerful self, as if he hadn't been annoyed in the first place. “I just asked if you've been able to get some rest while i've been away, that's all!” he said, making a sleeping gesture with his hands and looking at Romano with hopeful eyes. Romano, however, avoided his gaze and lowered his eyes to his plate, suddenly losing his appetite.

For a moment, he had forgotten just how exhausted he was. But now that he’d been reminded, all he could feel was that goddamn exhaustion in both his body and mind.

The older Italian's shoulders sagged in a defeated slump. “No.” he muttered, not even bothering to lie that he had tried, because he hadn’t. Deep down, he knew that even if he had made the effort, he stil wouldn't have slept. So why bother trying, when he was only setting himself up for disappointment?

“Oh…” his brother murmured, and even without looking up, Romano could picture the smile fading from his face, replaced by that worried expression he always had when things weren’t how he wanted them to be. “Well, um…” Veneziano said, trying to sound cheerful, but it fell flat. His voice came out small and sad. “Did you at least get a little sleep last night?” he asked hesitantly. “I know you said you haven’t, but not even a tiny bit?”

Romano let out a weary sigh, sliding his half-empty plate aside. Propping an elbow on the table, he rested his face in his hand, while his other hand tapped agitatedly against the tabletop. “I guess, about an hour... or two,” he responded, shrugging. “I'm not really sure. I don't time my fucking sleep.”

He hated where this conversation was going. The last thing he wanted was to talk about his sleep problems, especially now. He could already tell it would end badly. He’d hoped that spending time with his brother would help him forget about his troubles, not bring them up again. Why did things never go his way? Oh right, because the universe hated him. Screw you, universe!

“Ah, that's... that's okayish...” Veneziano mumbled, doing his best to sound optimistic, though it was obvious there wasn’t much to be optimistic about. “Oh!” he suddenly exclaimed. “What about the night before?” he asked quickly, a flicker of hope returning to his voice. “Did you manage to get any sleep then?”

Romano scrunched up his face in frustration before burying it in his hand, as if trying to block out his brother’s positive gaze. Veneziano wasn’t going to like his answer.

“No. I didn’t sleep at all.” he finally muttered after a long pause, his voice coming out rougher than he’d intended. The words caught in his throat, making it ache in that awful way it always did when he was close to crying. He clenched his jaw, forcing himself to hold it together.

His words hung in the air like a dark storm cloud ready to burst with rain and thunder. Veneziano didn’t respond. He just sat there in silence. Romano could feel his brother’s gaze on him and knew the hope in those eyes had all but faded. Yeah. Veneziano definitely didn’t like his answer.

“What about a few nights ago?” Veneziano tried again, his voice barely above a murmur. “Or… maybe a few weeks ago?” he added softly.

Romano opened his mouth to answer but couldn’t get any words out. It felt like an invisible chain had tightened around his throat, making it impossible for him to speak. So he just shook his head slowly.

His response made the younger man let out a panicked cry. “Really?! You told me you couldn’t sleep, but I didn’t think it was this bad!” he exclaimed, his words spilling out in a rush. “I thought it only happened sometimes! I didn’t know you weren’t sleeping at all, night after night!”

Romano listened quietly to his brother’s outburst and just shrugged. Whether Veneziano noticed or not, he couldn’t tell, and honestly, he didn’t care. He didn’t have the energy to respond properly. He wasn’t even sure he could if he tried. Luckily, he didn’t have to, since his brother kept talking, his voice rising a little more with each word.

“I don’t understand!” Veneziano burst out, jumping to his feet and slamming his hands on the table in panic. The impact made the plates and cups rattle. “Did something happen? Is everything okay in your part of the country? Is your economy stable? Are you okay?”

You know how hearing the words “Are you okay?” can break someone who’s barely holding themselves together? That’s exactly how Romano felt in that moment when those exact words left his brother’s mouth. He wasn’t okay, not even close. In fact, he was probably the furthest from okay he’d ever been in his life.

The Southern nation snapped his head up, meeting Veneziano’s worried gaze, which made him swallow hard. “I—” he began, but his voice cracked, and the next breath he took scraped painfully against his throat. Damn it. His eyes burned, and he blinked rapidly, trying to hold back the tears, but it didn’t work. They only welled up more, a tight knot twisting in his stomach and clawing at his chest until it felt like he could barely breathe.

He wanted so badly to tell his brother what was bothering him, to let it all out, to get this burden off his shoulders, and finally feel some sense of relief. He was sure that if he did, he’d feel better. Maybe his brother could even offer some advice or comfort (something he desperately needed).

But... he couldn’t. He simply couldn’t.

Even though he longed to open up and share what he was feeling, he just couldn’t bring himself to do it. He didn’t want to seem pathetic or weak, or anything like that. What kind of nation had such stupid problems like overthinking anyway? None. Exactly. So what did that make him? A terrible nation, that’s what.

Or at least, that’s what it felt like.

There was no rule saying that having personal problems made a nation useless. Many nations had their own struggles, and none of them seemed to care or think less of themselves because of it. But Romano was different. He couldn’t seem to understand that others had moments of weakness too. All he could see were his own flaws and failures, and because of that, he believed everyone else was better than him, that he was... well, flawed.

God, why was he like this? Why couldn’t he just be like everyone else, able to talk about what was on his mind without all these second guesses and awful thoughts? Why?

“I don’t know…” Romano finally muttered. The words tasted bitter on his tongue, leaving an emptiness in his chest that he despised. “I just… I can’t sleep,” he forced out, his voice barely more than a whisper. His hands trembled as he gripped the edge of the table, trying to keep himself from falling apart. “I don’t know why.” he said again, biting the inside of his cheek until he tasted the faint copper tang of blood.

Veneziano’s expression softened into one of pity, something Romano couldn’t bear to look at. He hated this. He hated all of it. But most of all, he hated himself for being so utterly pathetic. His hands clenched into fists on the table as the burning in his eyes became impossible to suppress. Squeezing them shut, he brought his hands to his face, desperate to hide the tears that had already begun to slip down his cheeks.

“Fratello…” Veneziano said softly when he saw Romano crying. The older man could hear the slight tremor in his voice, followed by the scrape of his brother’s chair against the hardwood floor as Veneziano took a few steps closer. A moment later, Romano felt his brother’s hand on his arm, a light, almost uncertain touch, as if Veneziano didn’t know whether he would shrug it off or lean into it.

Romano didn’t do either. He stayed frozen, his face buried in his hands as the silence between them thickened and the ache in his chest grew sharper. He wanted to scream, to tear something apart just to rid himself of the pain that felt like it was suffocating him. But he couldn’t. He remained stuck in that stupid chair, doing nothing but bawling his eyes out.

A moment later, Romano felt his brother wrap him in a tight hug, holding him with such warmth that he couldn’t resist but melt into Veneziano’s arms. He leaned fully into the comforting embrace and broke down completely, sobbing uncontrollably in a way he never had before.

“I’m sorry…” Veneziano whispered quietly, his voice full of sorrow as he gently ran his fingers through the older man’s hair. “I’m so, so sorry…” he repeated, sounding on the verge of tears himself.

Those apologetic words only made Romano cry even harder. He didn’t want pity, he hated pity, but in that moment he couldn’t help pitying himself as well. How had he allowed himself to end up like this?

The two nations stayed like that for a while, neither saying a word. When Romano finally emptied himself of all his tears and felt slightly better, he gently pushed his brother away and rubbed his swollen, painfully dry eyes. Mentally, he felt a little lighter, but physically it was as if the imaginary bus that had run him over just a few hours earlier had returned, and was ready to break more of his bones.

Romano took a sharp breath and leaned back in his chair, weakly gesturing toward his brother. “Bring me some water, bastard.” he muttered in a hoarse, quiet voice, only now realizing how dry his mouth had become.

Italy didn’t need to be told twice. He hurried to the cabinet, grabbed a glass, and filled it to the brim with water. Returning swiftly, he handed it to Romano, who drank it all in one go before slamming the glass down on the table. He then crossed his arms, slumped deeper into his chair, and stared at the half-eaten plate of pasta he had left unfinished.

The Southern nation heard Veneziano shift nervously beside him before grabbing the other chair, moving it closer, and sitting down next to him. Placing his hands in his lap, he began to fidget. “Romano?”

“What is it?” Romano asked tiredly, letting out a long sigh. He closed his eyes and rubbed his temples, trying to make the pain in his head stop.

“I think…” the younger nation began, hesitating as if carefully choosing his words. “I think you should take some time off from all this nation business.” he finally said.

Romano flinched slightly in his seat and turned to him, a look of confusion on his face.

“What? Why?” he asked, furrowing his brows as he struggled to understand his brother’s point. “Just because I’m tired all the time doesn’t mean I can’t handle this!” he snapped, his frustration showing. “Up until now, I’ve done all the work that’s been given to me for my country!”

Veneziano simply looked at him, uncertainty in his eyes, and offered an awkward smile. He stayed silent, which made Romano pause and then groan.

“Oh, come on! I’ve missed one meeting, just one!” the older Italian exclaimed, jabbing an accusatory finger at his brother. Veneziano only tilted his head in response, prompting Romano to groan in frustration. “Fine! I’ve missed more than one, but they were useless, so they don’t count!” he retorted with a scowl. “Besides, the paperwork is what really matters, and I’ve never slacked off on that.”

“That's true, and I'm glad to hear this, but...” Veneziano trailed off, causing the Southern nation to raise an irritated brow.

“But what?” Romano demanded.

“I don’t think working is good for you in your current state,” he said sincerely, his worried gaze shifting to the side. “I think you need a vacation or something to help you relax and ease the stress, so you can recover from whatever you’re going through.” he finished, turning back to Romano with a small, sympathetic smile.

The older nation stared at his brother in disbelief, his words echoing in his mind. A vacation did sound tempting... no work, no stress, no responsibilities, just the freedom to do whatever he wanted without consequences. For a moment, he almost considered agreeing with his brother. But before he could respond, a dark thought crossed his mind.

“Wait a damn minute!” he snapped, glaring furiously at Veneziano, who looked slightly taken aback by his reaction. “Don’t tell me you want to send me off somewhere so you can govern all of Italy by yourself?!”

At that, the Northern nation lost all color in his face. “No! I would never do that!” he exclaimed, his expression filled with horror. “Why would you even think that? I just want you to get better! I’m really worried about you!” he added, his voice cracking as if he might burst into tears. Romano muttered a curse under his breath.

Right.

Why would his brother ever want that? He was probably the most selfless person alive. He would never do anything to hurt him... at least, not on purpose. Ugh. Stupid mind, always making him think and say stupid things. Just as he was about to say something to make Veneziano feel better, the other spoke up again.

“If you’re really worried about that, then I can come with you!” Veneziano suddenly blurted out, placing a hand on his chest. “I mean, if you were going to agree to the idea, I was planning to go with you anyway. I don’t want anything to happen to you, especially since you’re not in the best condition right now!” he confessed, gesturing frantically with his hands.

Hearing that, Romano looked at his brother in mild surprise, blinking before his expression shifted into a slight frown. For a moment, he thought his brother was implying he couldn’t take care of himself, but he quickly pushed that thought aside. His frown softened into a guilty look, realizing that was probably the last thing Veneziano had meant by his words.

Curse his goddamn brain!

Honestly, now that Romano really thought about it, it had been ages since he and his brother had taken a real vacation or any kind of trip together that didn’t involve work. The past few years had been nothing but meetings, reports, and endless responsibilities. They were both so busy managing their own regions that they barely had time to travel anywhere together anymore. The only times they did were for official business and then straight back home. Beyond that, there was nothing.

The idea of going somewhere with his brother actually sounded... nice. Maybe they could visit a beautiful place like Monaco or Croatia, enjoy good food, good wine, and pretty scenery. Yeah, that really did sound nice. Maybe if he could just get away from all of this for a while, he’d start to feel better... be able to function properly again.

He’d read somewhere, a while ago, that a change of environment could help with sleep... Maybe a vacation was exactly what he needed to finally turn his life around for the better.

A small, rare smile crossed his face at the thought, but he quickly shook his head and pushed it away. He looked at Veneziano, who still seemed a bit uneasy, and clicked his tongue on purpose, trying to sound annoyed even though he wasn’t anymore. “Calm down, idiot,” he sighed. “I was just joking.”

At that, Veneziano’s face softened with relief, and he let out a loud exhale, almost deflating like a balloon. “Ah, thank God!” he exclaimed, pressing a hand to his chest as if to calm his racing heart. “I was so worried you actually thought I was some kind of barbaric monster who doesn’t care about anyone or anything and just wants to conquer land,” he sniffled, waving his hands dramatically in front of his face. “I almost cried!”

Romano rolled his eyes at Veneziano’s dramatic gestures, though he couldn’t help feeling a little guilty for making his brother so upset. “Whatever,” he muttered, then cleared his throat and changed the subject. “So, when are we leaving, and where exactly are we going?”

North Italy looked surprised for a moment before breaking into a wide, cheerful smile. “You're actually going through with this?!” he exclaimed, his voice bursting with joy as he clasped his hands together. “Oh, I’m so happy! This is going to get you back on track, and you’ll come back cured of your insomnia!” he declared excitedly, bouncing to his feet and wrapping Romano in an enthusiastic hug.

“Hey! Knock it off, you bastard!” the older Italian shouted, trying to push Veneziano away, but it was useless. When Veneziano got excited, there was simply no escaping him. “If you don’t let go, I’m not going anywhere, damn it!”

Luckily, that was enough to get the younger man to step back, a faint apologetic expression on his face. “Sorry, fratello! I’m just really excited!”

“Well, be excited on your side of the table, not mine, dumbass!” Romano snapped, rubbing his neck, which had been twisted uncomfortably from his brother's hug. “Also, you still haven’t answered me!” he added, furrowing his brows. “Where are we even going?”

Italy quickly jumped back into his seat, looking thoughtful for a moment before snapping his fingers and raising his hands high in the air like an overly excited child. “To the best country in the whole wide world!” he exclaimed, leaving Romano even more confused.

“And that country is...?” he asked, skeptical about his brother's idea of “the best country in the whole wide world.”

In response, Veneziano simply mimed zipping his lips and shook his head. “I’m not telling!” he said with a bright smile. “It’s going to be a surprise!”

“Then I’m not going.” Romano said flatly, crossing his arms with a huff. In response, his brother shook his head and made an “X” with his hands, still smiling brightly.

“No take-backs!” Veneziano declared. “You already said yes, so it’s too late to back out now!” Romano groaned in frustration, but his brother only grinned wider. “Come on, I promise this is going to be the best vacation ever! You’re going to have so much fun that whatever’s been keeping you up at night will disappear, and that frown will finally turn into a smile!”

“Somehow, I doubt that.” Romano replied dryly, starting to regret his decision of accepting his brother's offer.

“You’re not going to regret this!” Veneziano declared again, pulling out his phone and quickly starting to type a message. Romano couldn’t tell who he was texting, especially since Veneziano kept tilting the screen away from him in an overly secretive way that did little to ease Romano’s growing suspicion about this whole thing.

“Somehow, I doubt that too.” he muttered under his breath after a while, this time to himself. He had no idea what he’d gotten himself into, but he liked to think it couldn’t be that bad... it was his brother, after all, and they shared similar tastes. Maybe he’d actually end up enjoying himself. I mean, how bad could it really be?

Chapter Text

Bad. It was very, VERY bad. Far worse than Romano had anticipated. He should have said no to this ridiculous vacation. He should have ignored his brother's pleas and protests and refused to get on that cursed plane. He should have stayed home, damn it!

Never in his life would Romano have agreed to any of this if he had known that the so-called “great surprise vacation” was going to be Germany. Germany, of all places! If he had known, he would have bolted in the opposite direction and hidden in the farthest corner of the world, somewhere Veneziano could never find him, just to avoid being dragged to this awful, disgusting excuse of a country.

Oh God, why? WHY?

The Southern nation had been expecting a vacation in a beautiful and tasteful country like Cyprus, Belgium, Portugal, or even France, for God’s sake. At least in those places, the food was flavorful, the scenery pleasant, and the experience worthwhile. Germany, on the other hand, was the very last country he had expected. In fact, Romano was fairly certain it wasn’t even on his list at all. That only made the situation worse, as it confirmed just how much he despised the place.

The Southern part of Italy wanted nothing more than to board the next plane back to Italy, return home, and call Spain to complain about the absurdity and betrayal he had endured from his own brother, who had promised him a wonderful, relaxing vacation in "the best country in the whole wide world", when in reality, Veneziano had brought him to the worst country imaginable.

This was exactly why Romano hated surprises! They always seemed to turn out poorly for him, just like this one. If he'd known where he was going, he wouldn't have ended up in this gut-wrenching situation, because he would've said a big fat NO.

Romano was seething, his face twisted into an angry scowl as he gripped his suitcase so tightly that his hand trembled. His brother, on the other hand, looked ecstatic, wearing a broad grin, the complete opposite of Romano. Ugh! How could he possibly like this damned country so much? There was nothing nice about it!

The Southern nation shot a glance at his younger sibling, who was practically skipping through the airport, eagerly looking for the spot where his potato-eating bastard of a boyfriend was supposed to pick them up. He frowned, his brows furrowing as one of his eyes twitched involuntarily.

It felt like the only reason Veneziano had suggested this whole vacation was not to help Romano with his insomnia, but to have an excuse to see his stupid boyfriend. He’d been texting the bastard all evening, from the moment they stepped off the plane, without even sparing a glance at Romano or asking if he'd managed to sleep on the flight, which he hadn't, despite trying. How utterly mean!

"You..." the older man muttered, glaring daggers at Veneziano, who was completely oblivious to his quiet tone. "You bastard!" he suddenly shouted, halting in his tracks and dropping his suitcase to the ground. The younger man froze in surprise, turning to face him with a confused expression, clearly unsure of what he had done. "You tricked me!" Romano shouted at the top of his lungs, pointing an accusing finger at his brother, who looked back at him with a startled expression.

"Ehh?!" Italy exclaimed in shock, staring at the furious nation with a completely bewildered look on his face. "What? How?!" he asked, his voice laced with worry and his brown eyes filled with concern.

Upon hearing that, Romano clenched his fists and stamped his foot on the ground. "The only damn reason you brought me to this stupid place is so that you can get all lovey-dovey with your idiotic boyfriend!" he shouted, drawing a few gasps from the people passing by.

Veneziano jumped in surprise, looking around in distress. "Waahh! That's not true!" he yelped, quickly shaking his head. "That's not true at all!"

"Then how come you brought us straight to the country where your idiot boyfriend lives, huh?!" Romano snapped, growing even angrier at his brother's denial.

"Because I did some research and found that sometimes a drastic change of environment can help with sleep problems, and our country and Germany are almost complete opposites!" Veneziano explained, pulling out his phone and nervously scrolling through it. He then flipped the phone around to show the older man the website he had saved, titled "Remedies for Insomnia," nearly dropping it in the process.

The Southern part of Italy staggered back in surprise before scowling and snatching the device from his brother’s hand to read through the website. To his dismay, Veneziano was telling the truth. What made it worse was that he didn’t just have one website open, but several, showing that he had actually done his research and searched for ways to help with Romano's sleep issues.

"Oh." was all that came out of the dark brunette's mouth as he stared blankly at the phone for a moment. He blinked rapidly to snap himself out of the trance, then hesitantly handed the device back to the other nation.

Damn it! Now Romano felt like a complete jerk for accusing his brother of not caring about him and prioritizing his stupid lover over family when that wasn’t true at all. Even though Veneziano had brought him to the country he hated most, he’d done it out of genuine concern and kindness. Damn it, damn it! Why did he always paint his brother as the villain and make himself out to be the victim like such a loser? He was pathetic, so damn pathetic.

The nation bit his tongue in frustration, that sickening feeling of guilt clawing at his chest. He felt terrible and wanted to apologize to his younger sibling, but for him, saying sorry was far easier in thought than in action. So, as always, he ignored the guilt gnawing at him and pretended nothing had happened. He picked up his suitcase and started walking away at a slow pace, ensuring Veneziano could catch up. Sure enough, the other part of Italy did just that. Romano heard the rolling of suitcase wheels and the quick steps of his brother as he hurried to walk beside him, falling into step with him.

However, something felt off, because, of course, it did. Why would anything ever go smoothly for good old Romano? Why would things work in his favor when they could simply not? Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Italy wearing one of those anxious expressions he always had when trying to conceal that something was bothering him. Naturally, he was terrible at hiding his emotions. They were always written all over his face.

The Southern nation sighed before giving his brother a nudge with his shoulder to get his attention. Swallowing dryly, he shifted his gaze to the floor, watching his shoes squeak against the polished airport tiles. "What I said was stupid." he admitted quietly, hoping Italy had heard him so he wouldn’t have to repeat it. "So stop being depressed, damn it..." he muttered through clenched teeth, his jaw tightening as he waited for a response.

"Ah... well..." Romano finally heard his sibling’s hesitant voice, tinged with guilt. "That’s the thing..." Veneziano began nervously. "Honestly, I did choose this place for you because it matched what the website recommended, but... at the same time, I also picked it because I missed Germany and wanted to see him again," he confessed, letting out a sad sigh. "But now I realize that was really selfish of me because you obviously dislike Germany, and this whole trip will probably stress you out more than help you..."

The older man turned to his brother, disbelief written all over his face. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Actually, he couldn’t believe that he had been right—well, partially—but still right nonetheless. Ha! He knew it! He knew there had to be more to this whole vacation plan his brother had come up with. Yes!

Wow, this definitely made him feel a lot less awful and guilty, like a boulder had been lifted off his chest. It was reassuring to know that Veneziano wasn’t as perfect as he seemed and had his own moments of impulsivity. However, it was still pretty annoying—okay, more than a little annoying—to realize that Italy had planned this trip not just to help Romano, but also to cozy up with that stupid bastard who couldn’t pick up on social cues and seemed completely oblivious to social awareness.

Romano held back a smug smile, savoring the rare moment of being in the right while his brother was in the wrong. Instead, he maintained his scowling expression and turned to Veneziano, ready to rub his victory in his face. However, the words died in his throat as he caught sight of his younger brother’s expression. Poor Italy looked utterly guilty and pitiful, biting his lower lip in distress, his eyes glossy with unshed tears. He looked like a puppy that had been kicked out onto a rainy street.

Romano closed his mouth, glancing away from Veneziano before looking back at him. He opened his mouth to say something, but no words came out, and he ended up closing it again. The sweet sense of victory he’d felt just moments ago began to fade, replaced by a growing sense of regret.

Now that he thought about it, Italy really hadn’t had much time to spend with that stupid boyfriend of his—not properly, anyway. Aside from meetings and work-related events, there hadn’t been much else. As nations, they were all incredibly busy managing their respective countries, leaving very little free time, especially for big, tourist-heavy nations like themselves. And even though Veneziano often acted like a carefree airhead, Romano knew his brother took his duties seriously and would never neglect them just to satisfy his own desires, like spending time with Germany.

The Southern nation had never given it much thought before, but he suddenly realized just how much it actually bothered his brother that he didn’t have the time he wanted to spend with Germany outside of work. And as much as he despised the bastard with every fiber of his being, he loved his brother even more and couldn’t stand seeing him upset.

"Um, if you want..." Romano was jolted out of his thoughts by Veneziano's quiet voice. "We can take a plane back home... or... or go somewhere else!" he added, offering a small smile that wasn’t full of excitement, but rather tinged with sadness. "Somewhere you'll enjoy yourself!"

Romano knew that the whole point of this stupid vacation was for him to fix his sleeping problems, and he really wanted to be selfish—really, really selfish—and say yes, to leave this awful country and go somewhere warm and beautiful with good food. But, at the same time, the expression on his brother’s face stopped him. He knew he’d probably regret this and that it was the worst decision he could make, but just this once, he wanted to be kind to his brother instead of the usual selfish jerk he was.

"Shut up, bastard." Romano muttered, causing the Northern nation to lose his smile and glance back at him with guilt. Romano, realizing his mistake, panicked and scrambled for words to fix it. "What I mean is, we're staying... erm... whether you like it or not!" he snapped, his voice rising a bit too much and earning a surprised look from the other nation. "So... so just suck it up!" he added, turning away and picking up his pace.

Unfortunately, he didn’t get very far before a hand grabbed his arm and started shaking him violently, as though he were caught in an earthquake. "Ahhh! Fratello, you're too kind to me!" Italy cried out, stretching out the words. "You don’t have to be so selfless just for my sake!"

Hearing that, Romano felt a bit embarrassed. He didn’t want to admit that the only reason he wanted to stay in Germany was for Veneziano, so he simply shoved his brother's hand away and cursed him out. "I'm not doing this for you, idiota!" he snapped, scowling deeply. "It's just that I'm tired of traveling, and going to another country right now would be a pain in the ass! So this is all for my benefit, not yours!" he explained angrily. But his brother just beamed at him as though he hadn’t just been yelled at, but had been showered with a thousand compliments instead.

"Grazie!" Veneziano replied cheerfully, as though he could see right through Romano’s act, which made the dark-haired man want to shout another string of curses at him. But before he could, Veneziano grabbed his hand again and started pulling him along, not giving him a chance to speak. Instead, he spoke for him. "I'm going to make this the best vacation ever for you!" the younger man exclaimed, practically skipping with excitement. "I’m going to create a super-duper fun schedule for the whole week that will leave you speechless and not wanting to go back to Rome! You'll see!"

Romano could only roll his eyes dramatically at his brother's words, knowing full well that wasn't going to happen. However, he didn’t argue. He simply allowed himself to be dragged along by Veneziano as the younger man happily rambled on. Honestly, Romano preferred this version of his brother—cheerful and full of energy—rather than the sad, pitiful one. That look really didn’t suit him.

The Southern nation could already tell that this week off was probably going to be a nightmare, and he was dreading it, wishing it would end before it even started. But at least he knew that his brother would enjoy it, and that thought alone was enough to make him feel better.

.
.
.

The two siblings arrived at the pick-up spot, where they were greeted by Germany. To Romano’s dismay and utter disgust, Veneziano bombarded the blonde with hugs and kisses. Thankfully, that sicking display didn’t last long. They soon loaded their luggage into the car—or rather, Germany did all the work—and set off for his house. The car ride was filled with Veneziano’s endless chatter, punctuated by occasional comments from Germany. Romano, however, stayed silent, gazing out the window at the roads and buildings they passed. Germany made an attempt to start a conversation with him, but after being yelled at, he wisely decided not to try again for the rest of the trip, much to the Southern nation's relief.

It took about an hour to reach Germany’s house, during which the older Italian began to feel drowsy and utterly fatigued. By the time they got out of the car, he could barely stand properly from exhaustion. All he wanted was to take some sleeping pills, collapse into bed, and sleep until the following afternoon. But deep down, he had a nagging feeling that wouldn’t happen and that he’d end up awake all night again. Still, Romano tried to be hopeful, thinking that maybe—just maybe—this time things would be different.

While Germany handled their luggage, Veneziano led Romano to the front door and opened it with practiced ease, as if it were his own house. Without hesitation, he pulled them both inside, babbling excitedly about how much he wanted to show Romano around and how he was sure he’d love the place. The older man, unsurprisingly, groaned in annoyance.

They had barely stepped into the spacious hallway, and the Southern nation had only begun to take in his surroundings, when a vaguely familiar voice, tinged with a distinct rasp, called out from somewhere inside the house, immediately drawing the siblings' attention.

"West, is that you?!" the voice called out, causing Romano to furrow his brows in both confusion and suspicion.

At first, he had completely forgotten that someone else lived with Germany. But the sound of pounding footsteps on the hardwood floor, followed by the appearance of a familiar face, made him remember. In that instant, a look of pure horror overtook his face, and it felt as though his heart had stopped.

Prussia! He had totally forgotten that the potato-eating bastard had an equally annoying older brother. Shit!

Oh no.

Oh no, no, no.

Oh Hell fucking no! He couldn't do this. He couldn’t do this at all. He needed to turn around and get out of there immediately. If he’d regretted agreeing to stay in Germany before, that regret had now skyrocketed and got multiplied by a million, no, a billion.

Staying in a house with Germany was one thing. The guy knew when to keep quiet and not bother him. While his face annoyed Romano to no end, he could at least tolerate his company because the bastard was generally respectful and decent. But Germany's older brother, Prussia, was an entirely different story. That idiot was the polar opposite of Germany—loud, obnoxious, narcissistic, and utterly clueless about personal space or boundaries. He was an infuriating nuisance, the kind of person Romano couldn't stand. No, "couldn't stand" wasn’t strong enough. The kind of person Romano loathed. Yes, that was the right word.

They have met several times over the years, and each time, Romano had wanted nothing more than to punch the albino in the face and break his jaw. The idiot just couldn’t stop running his mouth, constantly joking and acting like a complete fool! He was an awful person with an even more awful personality, always mocking others and acting superior, when in reality, he was nothing more than the scum of the earth!

In that moment, he regretted not being selfish and saying yes when his brother suggested leaving, as it would have spared him from dealing with this situation.

"Holy shit!" Prussia exclaimed, his red eyes widening in surprise before his face lit up with the biggest grin imaginable. "The Italy brothers!" he shouted excitedly, stretching out his arms and moving closer as if he were about to hug them.

Seeing this, Romano panicked and instinctively stepped back, successfully avoiding the German’s embrace. Unfortunately, his brother wasn’t as lucky and ended up caught in the clutches of the albino, who laughed heartily as Veneziano returned the hug with enthusiasm.

"Hi, Prussia!" Italy greeted cheerfully, completely unfazed by the bone-crushing hug he was receiving. "It's so nice to see you again!"

The albino pulled back, flashing a wide grin at the light brunette. "Man, i haven't seen you in forever!" he exclaimed. "How long has it even been, a year, two?" he asked, tapping his chin with an exaggeratedly thoughtful expression.

"Two months!" Veneziano corrected, holding up two fingers with a cheerful smile, which earned another laugh from the white-haired German.

"That little?" Prussia asked, raising an eyebrow in surprise before shaking his head. "I could've sworn it had been longer!" he exclaimed, then added with a smug grin. "Which just means you should visit more often, don't you think?"

Romano grimaced at their exchange, letting out a dramatic gagging sound. However, expressing his disgust turned out to be a big mistake. In an instant, Prussia's sharp red eyes locked onto him, and his grin somehow stretched even wider. "Now i'm certain that's been forever since i've seen you!" the ex-nation announced, gesturing toward Romano, who recoiled at the motion, clearly not wanting to be the center of Prussia's attention. "Did you miss the awesome me?"

"Hell no!" the older Italian retorted sharply, trying to get the ex-nation to back off and leave him alone. But in response, the albino dramatically clutched his chest as if he’d been stabbed in the heart, feigning a hurt expression.

"How harsh!" Prussia exclaimed in an overly dramatic tone, leaning forward as if genuinely wounded. Romano rolled his eyes at the theatrics, unimpressed. He was just about to tell the bastard to get lost, but before he could get a single word out, Prussia interrupted him. "I know what'll sweeten you up!" the albino declared with a wide grin, prompting the Italian to glare at him in suspicion. "A hug!" he announced, striding toward Romano with open arms. "Bring it in, Roma!"

The Southern nation nearly let out a scream of horror as he stumbled back in alarm, only to find himself trapped with his back pressed against the front door. Desperately trying to escape, he fumbled with the doorknob, hoping to make a quick exit. But luck wasn’t on his side today. As the door swung open, he came face-to-face with Germany, who was bringing in their suitcases. The unexpected sight of the blonde German startled him so much that he jumped, lost his footing, and, like a complete fool, tumbled straight into Prussia’s arms.

"Whoa!" Prussia exclaimed, his tone carrying a brief note of surprise before breaking into a laugh. "Guess you missed me after all!" he teased, causing Romano’s eyes to widen and his face to flush a deep shade of red in embarrassment.

"Let go, you damn bastard!" the dark-haired brunette snapped, swatting the other’s hands away as he pulled himself free. Without hesitation, he turned around and shoved past him, retreating to his brother’s side, where he felt safe, comfortable, and far away from Prussia.

"Aww, already with the insults?" the ex-nation said in that infuriating tone of his, the one that always seemed to get under Romano’s skin. "And here i thought that we were starting to get along."

"Fuck you!" the dark-haired brunette shouted, angrily flipping the German off. Damn it! He felt so embarrassed. He hadn’t even been here for a day and he could already feel his sanity starting to slip away.

"Nice to see that you haven't changed." the white-haired man remarked, his tone dripping with mockery, something the Southern nation instantly recognized. "Same old Romano, as grumpy as ever."

Romano was ready to hurl another curse at Prussia, something deeply hurtful, but Germany stepped in just in time. "Leave him alone, bruder." he said with a weary sigh. "Both he and Italy have just gotten here and are probably tired." he added, shooting a pointed look at his brother. "So, the last thing they need is your constant prodding."

For once, Romano completely agreed with Germany. He and Veneziano definitely didn’t need Prussia’s harassing, especially not Romano. However, the albino in question clearly disagreed.

"I wasn't prodding." the older German retorted, waving a hand at his younger brother dismissively. Then, with a cocky grin and a proud expression, he added. "I was being awesomely hospitable!"

"Right." Germany replied flatly, before dragging the suitcases into the hallway and handing them to Prussia, who stared at them with a puzzled look. "Then how about you make yourself 'awesomely' useful and take these upstairs?"

Hearing that, Prussia ran a hand through his hair, his expression shifting to one of mild disappointment. "Seems like everyone's against me today," he said with a dramatic sigh. "Even my own brother!" he exhaled then turned and strode over to Italy, whose face twisted into a confused look, though his smile stayed intact. Prussia draped an arm over the smaller man's shoulders, pulling him a little closer. "Only little Italy here cares about me!" he declared, glancing down at the other nation. "Isn't that right?"

At that, Veneziano simply stared at him for a moment before tilting his head slightly, an uncertain expression crossing his face. "Um, yeah, I guess! You're pretty nice!"

At that, Prussia broke into a wide grin and released Italy, triumphantly pumping a fist into the air. "Ha! Hear that, West?" he called out smugly to his brother. "It’s only a matter of time before your precious little Italy falls for my undeniable charm!" he let out a loud cackle. "So, you better watch your back before I steal him away!" with that, he grabbed the two suitcases and hurried up the stairs, somehow managing not to drop them or trip, all while snickering to himself.

Germany stood frozen in shock for a moment before glancing at Veneziano, a flicker of alarm crossing his face. Then, in the most irritated voice Romano had ever heard from him, he yelled after his brother in German. "Hey! So etwas kannst du nicht einfach sagen und weglaufen! Komm zurück! (Hey! You can't just say something like that and run away! Get back here!)" he stormed up the stairs after Prussia, his voice growing more muffled as he disappeared onto the second floor.

Romano stared at the now-empty hallway, blinking in mild shock, confusion, and annoyance as he tried to process what had just happened. His gaze shifted to his brother, who appeared equally puzzled at first, his expression mirroring Romano's. But then, much to the older man's dismay, Veneziano’s confusion melted into an amused smile, his eyes glinting with quiet laughter. Romano felt his annoyance deepen. How could his brother find anything about what had just happened even remotely funny? There was nothing remotely amusing about what Prussia had said! If anything, it was weird, disturbing, and downright creepy!

Whatever. The nation couldn’t be bothered to care anymore—there was too much on his plate right now to waste energy thinking about stupid Prussia snd his stupid words.

Bringing a hand to his face, the dark-haired brunette shook his head in disbelief. He honestly didn’t think he could survive this week, which, let him remind everyone, was supposed to be a vacation. He couldn’t understand how his poor brother saw staying here as relaxing and fun when, in reality, it was nothing but stress and misery. Unless, of course, Veneziano's idea of relaxation and fun was being tortured.

The southern nation let out an exasperated sigh, his shoulders slumping in fatigue. He remained in that position for a moment before feeling a hand pat his shoulder. "Fratello, you don’t look so good!" the Northern nation commented, halting his patting and leaning in to inspect Romano with a puzzled expression. The older man scowled at him through his fingers, then turned away, crossing his arms and fixing his gaze on the ground in clear annoyance.

Of course he didn’t look well. What kind of dumb question was that? For one, he was completely exhausted and felt like he might hit the floor at any moment. And two, he was incredibly annoyed. Oh, and did he mention just how tired he was yet?!

"Are you tired?" his brother suddenly asked in a curious tone, as if he’d somehow read Romano’s mind. The question made Romano flinch and spin around, glaring at his brother with visible distress.

Veneziano, however, wasn’t surprised by his reaction and simply shrugged it off. "Did you not manage to sleep on the plane?" he asked, but he barely got the words out before Romano placed a hand over his mouth, silencing him.

"Dumbass! Don't go around spewing my problems to the whole world!" the older Italian hissed in a harsh whisper. He quickly glanced around in a panic, worried that the two bastard might have returned, but thankfully, they were nowhere in sight. Only he and Veneziano remained in the large hallway, prompting Romano to let out a sigh of relief.

"Mmmfffn?" his younger brother mumbled under the hand, the sound completely unintelligible to the Southern nation. Frustrated, he muttered a curse under his breath before pulling his hand away, but not before giving his brother an angry punch. Well, punch might have been too strong of a word. It was more of a firm shake than an actual hit.

"Ow! What was that for?" Italy cried out, rubbing his arm as he looked at the older man in bewilderment.

"For not being able to keep your mouth shut!" Romano snapped, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "I don't want these two bastards knowing that i have issues of any sort!"

"Eh? Why not?" his brother asked, clearly confused. "Wouldn’t it be better if they knew?" he added, looking at Romano as if he were the strange one. "Maybe they could even give you some good advice!"

Hearing that, the Southern Italian quickly shook his head, a firm and panicked "no" evident in the gesture. The last thing he needed was for those two idiots to find out how pathetic he was. The thought alone sent a chill down his spine. If the two Germans discovered his insomnia, they’d probably tell their friends, who would then tell their own friends, and soon enough, everyone would know just how pitiful he truly was. If that happened, Romano wouldn’t be able to face anyone again. He’d probably have to flee to some far away place like Antarctica and cut all ties with humanity just to escape the humiliation.

"No. They can’t know." Romano said firmly, his tone deadly serious, enough to make his brother give him a slightly concerned look. "So don’t you dare say a word!"

Hearing his words, Veneziano offered a sympathetic smile and gave a small, understanding nod. "Bene, if that’s what you want."

Romano immediately felt a wave of relief wash over him, his tension easing as he let out a long breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. However, his brief moment of relief was abruptly cut short by Germany, who had presumably returned.

"I apologize for that." the blonde said, his expression tinged with mild irritation. "My brother has a tendency for getting on my nerves sometimes..." he admitted, his voice trailing off slightly before he cleared his throat. "Anyway, please feel free to make yourselves at home."

Ha. What a joke. There was no way Romano was going to make himself at home in Germany’s house. He’d sooner settle into a cheap motel in the middle of nowhere than stay in this bastard’s place. Well, okay, that wasn’t entirely true—he wouldn’t step foot in a motel even if someone held a gun to his head—but telling himself that made being here slightly less infuriating. Besides, there was nothing remotely homely about Germany’s house. It was too plain, excessively organized, and far too different from his warm, peaceful home back in Rome.

"Right." the dark-haired brunette replied through clenched teeth, shooting the Germanic nation what he hoped was a thoroughly displeased glare.

Without another word, he brushed past him, keeping his scowl firmly in place as he stepped into the open space of the first floor. It didn’t take long, however, for him to realize he had no idea where to go since he didn’t know the layout of the house. He turned back to call for Veneziano, but he found the younger man completely preoccupied, having latched onto Germany and lost himself in his own little world, oblivious to everything else around him.

Romano grimaced in disgust before letting out a weary sigh. This was going to be one long week.

.
.
.

After the two brothers settled into their rooms—well, more accurately, after Romano settled into his room while Veneziano decided to stay with Germany in the bastard's room, much to Romano's dismay—the four of them gathered for dinner. Romano couldn’t say he was surprised by his brother’s choice, given that he and Germany were lovers, but it still annoyed him to no end.

Dinner turned out to be, without a doubt, the most awkward experience Romano had endured in his life—or at least, that’s how it felt to him. His brother, on the other hand, had no trouble chatting cheerfully with the two Germans—particularly Prussia, as Germany rarely spoke, only occasionally chiming in or humming in agreement.

Romano remained silent, as he often did when surrounded by people he couldn’t stand, resorting to cursing at anyone who tried to talk to him. Unfortunately, most of the time, that someone was Prussia, who kept pestering him with idiotic questions. Why couldn’t the dumbass take the hint and leave him alone?

To make things even worse, the food was absolutely terrible—potatoes and sausages, of all things. Disgusting. Romano had barely eaten anything during the flight, and now he couldn’t eat anything here either, because the food was practically poisonous. He would have cooked something for himself, but he didn’t want to do that while the others were still in the kitchen. It was awkward, and, more importantly, he didn’t want to be forced into sharing. So, he had no choice but to go hungry.

The Southern nation put up with the whole thing for as much as he could for his brother's sake, but once Prussia and Veneziano got way too loud and started giving him a headache, he ended up retreating to his room.

Romano didn’t bother turning on the light. Instead, he trudged toward the bed and threw himself onto it, landing face-first into the mattress with a muffled grunt. God, he was so exhausted. Every muscle in his body ached from the tension of the day, and his mind felt like it had been running on fumes since he arrived.

The man rolled onto his back, staring at the unfamiliar ceiling that no longer was his own. He wasn’t sure how to feel about this whole 'staying at Germany’s' situation. It was supposed to be a vacation, but to him, it felt more like a chore, given how much stress he’d been under and how frayed his nerves had become. He couldn’t imagine lasting an entire week—honestly, he doubted he’d last at all.

Romano had no interest in wasting his time with either Germany or Prussia, nor in participating in whatever plans Veneziano had cooked up involving the two bastards. Just thinking about it made him want to kick something. If it had just been him and Veneziano, it might have been tolerable, but Romano knew his brother would inevitably invite the potato-loving idiots to tag along, which only made the whole situation even more infuriating.

The Southern nation slammed his fist against the mattress in frustration before curling onto his side, his breaths coming out in angry huffs. He really hoped that this ridiculous vacation would cure his insomnia, just as Veneziano had promised him. Otherwise, all this misery would be pointless.

Clinging to that thought, Romano shut his eyes and forced himself to sleep, trying to block out everything else.

Chapter Text

Romano ended up not sleeping. He tossed and turned in bed for so long that his limbs ached, but no matter how desperately he tried, he just couldn't sleep.

It was so frustrating.

He was so damn tired, his eyes burned and his body hurt. Yet, his mind wouldn’t let him drift off. He couldn’t believe he’d actually thought he might get some sleep tonight. He’d actually been hopeful, but as always, things didn’t go his way.

The nation scrunched his face in frustration, holding his breath to stifle the scream of anger he wanted to let out. Exhaling, he buried his head under his pillow like a depressed teenager. He stayed there for a few moments, vainly trying to lull himself to sleep, even if it felt like he was suffocating. But as the minutes passed and he realized he was more likely to pass out from lack of air than actually fall asleep, he finally gave up and decided to get up.

The dark-haired brunette pushed himself up to his knees, staring for a moment at the disheveled state of his bed from all the tossing and turning he'd done, before letting out a frustrated sigh.

Fantastic. This was no different from home. He should have known better than to expect anything else. He’d let himself be too hopeful, only to have those hopes crushed, and now he felt like shit. He should’ve realized that nothing would change, that everything would stay the same, and his misery would only continue.

The Southern part of Italy gripped the white sheets tightly, seething with resentment and wishing he could rip them to shreds until there was nothing left of them to remind him of his sleeplessness. Unfortunately, that wasn’t an option, because these weren’t his sheets, they were Germany’s, and he had no desire to deal with the hassle of paying for a new pair. Instead, he yanked on them with all his might, pulling them loose from the bed and exposing the white mattress beneath. He exhaled heavily, his chest sinking as he released his grip, then let himself collapse forward, his head hitting the wooden bed frame with a dull thud. He didn’t even flinch at the pain.

"This vacation is a joke," he muttered under his breath, wrapping his arms around himself in a vain attempt at comfort, though it didn’t help. "I should’ve stayed in Rome. At least there, I could be miserable in my own bed."

Romano shut his aching eyes and sulked in silence for a moment, longing to be back home, before finally dragging himself out of bed. Grabbing his phone, he checked the time, a habit he’d grown accustomed to during sleepless nights such as this one. The bright screen flashed 4:19 AM. It was so late and he hadn’t slept a wink. He was going to be insufferable in the morning if he didn’t get at least an hour of sleep.

He tossed his phone onto the bed and switched on the small lamp on his nightstand. Crossing the room to his luggage, he began rifling through it, wrinkling a few shirts in the process but paying it no mind. At last, he found what he was searching for—his sleeping pills. He despised having to rely on the them to get any rest, yet they were the only thing that actually worked. So, he had no choice. Grabbing the bottle, he opened it, but just as he was about to shake out a couple of pills, he abruptly stopped.

"Shit, i don't have any water." the man muttered under his breath, glancing around the room.

Damn it. He couldn’t take his pills without something to drink, which Romano fully acknowledged sounded pretty pathetic. But he had a valid reason—once, in an attempt to act cool or whatever people called it, he’d tried swallowing a couple of pills without any liquid. It had gone horribly wrong, and he’d choked so badly that he’d nearly suffocated. Thankfully, he’d survived, but there was no way he was putting himself through that all over again.

Irritated, the Southern nation snapped the lid back onto the container, realizing he’d have to go downstairs to grab some water if he wanted to sleep tonight.

Taking a deep breath and clutching the bottle tightly in his hand, Romano moved toward the door. He cracked it open just enough to glance into the hallway. The house was silent, dark, and still—perfect. Quietly, the dark-haired man tiptoed down the hall, his footsteps barely making a sound against the floor. He descended the stairs cautiously, wincing at every creak, until he finally reached the kitchen.

The room was pitch black, except for a sliver of moonlight spilling through the terrace doors into the adjoining living room, making it nearly impossible to figure out where he was supposed to go. Romano stumbled forward, feeling his way toward the counter, his hands brushing against the wall as he searched for the light switch.

Where the hell was that damn thing? He could’ve sworn it was around here somewhere.

In a fit of frustration, the Italian was about to kick the counter with his foot, but just as he raised it, a rustling sound from the corner of the room made him freeze mid-motion

The hell was that?

Slowly, Romano turned around, scanning the room with his eyes. Unfortunately, it was so dark that his efforts were pretty much in vain. Was someone awake? No, that couldn't be right. No sane person would be up at this ungodly hour. Had he imagined the noise? He was seriously sleep-deprived, and humans often hallucinated when they missed too much sleep. But he was a nation, not some mere mortal—he shouldn’t be suffering from those ridiculous human symptoms. Still, given how long he hadn't been sleeping for, it wasn’t exactly improbable...

Shaking his head, the Italian decided to just brush off what he’d heard and blame it on the wind, like some silly character in a horror movie, because there was no way in Hell he was going to admit he was totally losing it.

He resumed fumbling for the light switch, growing more and more frustrated at his lack of success, when suddenly, a hand grabbed his arm and yanked him to the side. That’s right, a damn hand—one that seemed to have materialized out of thin air right after that strange noise—had freaking grabbed him.

Romano wasn’t usually one to be scared of the dark, but in that moment, pure terror gripped him, making him feel as if his soul had left his body and his heart had dropped into his stomach. Without thinking, he screamed—the most gut-wrenching sound his lungs could produce—before spinning around, dropping the pill bottle, and swinging his fist at whatever entity had dared to touch him.

Unfortunately, the entity seemed to know how to fight back, as Romano suddenly felt one of his wrists being seized, his arm forced down and to the side, halting his movements. The sudden restriction only made him panic more. This was it! He was going to be dragged into the darkness by this... this thing! And he'd never see the light of day again. He was going to die in Germany’s stupid, haunted house without even getting the chance to say goodbye to Veneziano or Spain.

Just as Romano braced himself for the worst, the lights flickered on, blinding him and making his eyes sting. He squeezed them shut, then cracked them open just enough to see...

Prussia?!

Standing before the Southern nation was none other than Germany’s older brother, Prussia. The albino was slightly hunched over, his face twisted in a strained expression. One hand was gripping the kitchen light switch, while the other held Romano’s wrist firmly.

"Wow, you sure as Hell can scream," the German suddenly remarked, his voice slightly raspy, as if he’d just woken up, followed by a small laugh. "And punch, too."

The Italian stared at the man before him for a moment, his brows furrowing as he jerked his hand away. "The hell's wrong with you?!" he snapped, his voice a mix of anger and the faintest bit of relief that it wasn’t a ghost that had scared the life out of him, but Prussia. "What kind of normal person sneaks up on someone in the damn dark?!" he yelled.

The ex-nation straightened up and rubbed the back of his neck, looking more amused than apologetic. "Eh, sorry..." he said with a shrug. "I thought you heard me come in." he explained, offering a small grin.

Romano had heard him alright, but the problem was that he hadn’t seen him, because the bastard had just appeared out of nowhere like some damn phantom. Seriously, what was wrong with him?

"Are you serious?!" Romano shot back, his voice dripping with disbelief. "So, you just decided to grab me out of nowhere, without saying a word?! You nearly gave me a heart attack!" he exclaimed. And, as if to prove his point, the brunette placed a hand over his chest, feeling the rapid thumping of his heart, which was still pounding uncontrollably. "Do you have any sense of rationality at all?!"

At that, Prussia flashed a lopsided grin and shrugged, looking utterly unbothered by the sheer panic he'd just caused Romano, probably because he didn’t feel the slightest bit guilty, being the jerk that he was. "I don't know, you tell me." he said in an obnoxiously smug tone that only made the Italian's irritation grow. Then, as if that wasn't enough, he added. "But hey, in my defense, I wasn’t trying to scare you... though I gotta admit, that was pretty hilarious. I was actually just trying to help you out, like the awesome person that I am!"

"Help me out?" the Southern nation repeated incredulously, his voice rising. "You were trying to help me out?!" he spat again, this time with even more anger and venom, as if the words were burning his mouth. "By doing what, exactly? Being fucking creepy?!"

"Uh, no," the ex-nation said, as if it was obvious. "By turning on the lights, of course!" he declared with a snap of his fingers, beaming at Romano, who returned the look with a disgusted expression. "You were stumbling around like a blind old lady trying to find the light switch," he said, furrowing his brows for a moment as if deep in thought, before grinning again. "But, you were tapping on everything except the light switch, and since I'm just so awesome and considerate, and have super-cool-totally-real night vision, I decided to lend you a hand!" he raised one hand, waving it in front of the dark brunette. "You're welcome, by the way!"

Romano just stared at the German for a moment, processing his words, before swatting his hand away and crossing his arms in frustration. He couldn’t decide whether to feel embarrassed or furious.

"I didn't need your stupid help, you dumb potato-eater." the Italian grumbled bitterly, shifting his gaze to the ground.

"Youuu kinda did though." Prussia replied, poking him in the arm. "If it weren’t for me, you’d probably have walked into something and hurt yourself."

Romano shot the albino a baffled look, nearly laughing in disbelief. How self-centered could someone be?

"Screw off!" he snapped, shoving Prussia's hand away and stepping back to make sure no further contact could be made. Seriously, why couldn’t the guy understand what personal space was?

Prussia just smirked, clearly unfazed by Romano’s anger. "Ah, no thanks, I've already pumped one out tonight so i'm good."

Romano's eyes widened in shock at the remark, and he was certain that, had he been drinking something, he would have spat it out. He whipped his head around to stare at Prussia in utter horror. Who in their right mind would say something like that out of the blue? The German only snickered, clearly amused by how disturbed the Italian looked.

"Relax, Southern cheeks," the albino said, raising his hands in mock surrender. "I was just joking. Your reactions are so funny, it’d be a shame not to mess with you!"

"You... you—" Romano stammered, searching for the right words to convey just how disturbed, angry, and irritated he was with the other man. But nothing came to mind—he was too thrown off to think clearly. "Ugh!" he groaned in frustration before abruptly changing the subject. "What the hell are you doing down here at this hour?!"

Wait a second. That was a very good question. What the hell was Prussia doing down here in the middle of the night? He wasn’t the type to wake up early and wander around the house. On the contrary, he was a notoriously heavy sleeper who didn’t stir until he’d had his fill of rest. Could he also not sleep...? No, that couldn't possibly be it... could it?

At Romano's words, the ex-nation opened his mouth to respond, but paused before he could say anything. He shut his mouth and gave the Italian a mildly curious look. "I could ask you the same thing."

Upon hearing that Romano’s face fell, and for a split second, he felt like his heart had stopped. Thanks to the German, he had completely forgotten why he’d come down here in the first place. But now that Prussia had reminded him, he had no idea how to respond. There was no way he was going to admit to the albino that he couldn’t sleep and had come downstairs for water to swallow an unhealthy number of pills just to get the bare minimum of rest. Speaking of his pill bottle—why couldn’t he feel it in his hand? Shit! That’s right! He’d dropped it when the bastard had scared the life out of him!

Oh no! Where was it?

Without a second thought, the dark brunette's gaze dropped to the floor, desperately searching for the pill bottle—and oh my God, it was lying right next to the German's foot. Oh, fuck.

He quickly snapped his gaze back up, locking eyes with the crimson ones before him, a hint of fear creeping into his expression. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the smartest move, because his silence and uncertain stare made the albino raise an eyebrow in confusion. Then, slowly, Prussia's gaze drifted down to the ground, curious to see what had caused Romano's sudden shift in demeanor.

Seeing what Prussia was about to do, the Southern nation panicked. Before the albino could fully look down, Romano did the first thing that came to mind to divert his attention. He stepped toward him. It was a little too close for comfort, but just close enough to discreetly kick the pill bottle away from the German. At the unexpected closeness, Prussia’s eyes widened slightly, and for a moment, his expression showed the faintest hint of surprise.

Romano pressed his lips into a tight line, feeling incredibly self-conscious and uncomfortable, but a man had to do what a man had to do to save his pride. "Um," the Italian said, swallowing nervously before scowling as fiercely as he could to avoid looking suspicious. "I asked you first, bastard!"

The ex-nation stared at him for a brief moment before blinking and letting out a laugh. "I guess that's fair!" he said, flashing that annoyingly wide grin of his. He then pointed to one of the cabinets, causing the Italian to turn his head in confusion. "Midnight snack," Prussia explained. "I woke up starving and thought I'd grab something to eat."

For some reason, Romano felt a bit disappointed by Prussia’s answer. A small part of him had secretly hoped that Prussia, too, couldn’t sleep, so he wouldn’t have to bear the weight of insomnia alone. But of course, that was just wishful thinking. Prussia wasn’t like him—he was easygoing, positive, and didn’t turn everything into a problem for himself. Romano, on the other hand, couldn’t help but overthink every little thing. He would never admit it, but there were times he envied Prussia's ability to be so effortlessly happy.

To make his point, the ex-nation stepped around Romano to reach the cabinet he had pointed to earlier. Romano let out a sigh of relief—getting that close had been way too much for him in the worst way possible. But it also gave him the perfect opportunity to grab his pill bottle without Prussia noticing. As the albino turned his back, Romano quickly snatched it up and hid it behind him.

Completely unaware of what Romano had done, the German opened the cabinet, pulled out a half-empty bag of chips, and shut the door. He turned back to face the Italian, leaning against the counter with a proud smirk. "Chips are the perfect fuel for an awesome guy like me!" he declared, popping a chip into his mouth and crunching loudly.

The Southern nation glanced at him, then at the so-called "fuel" a look of disgust flickering across his face. "That's absolutely disgusting." he muttered, scrunching his nose at the sight of the unappealing junk food.

"Hater!" Prussia shot back, sounding like a middle schooler trying to win a petty argument with the most supid comeback imaginable.

"Go to hell!" Romano snapped, his temper flaring once again. Staying calm around Prussia was utterly impossible. The guy was like gasoline to his fire—Prussia being the gasoline, of course, and Romano the fire. The two just didn’t mix, which was why every attempt at a normal conversation ended badly. "That so-called 'food' of yours is garbage! Just a pile of disgusting potatoes fried until there’s nothing left of the vegetable except some greasy, flavorless, and completely non-nutritious junk!"

"Hey! That's totally not true!" the ex-nation shot back, pretending to be offended. "Chips are not garbage. They’re a gift from the snack gods." he declared, stuffing a handful of the greasy things into his mouth. Chewing noisily, he added, "And by the way, that’s no way to talk to your savior."

"Savior?"

"Yeah! Without me you'd still be stumbling in the dark." Prussia said, looking far too pleased with himself. "You’re welcome, again.”

“Oh, for the love of God, you didn’t save shit, you self-absorbed idiot!” Romano snapped, running his free hand down his face in sheer exhaustion. This whole interaction had already pushed him to his breaking point, and he was pretty sure his nerves had hit a new high record thanks to Prussia. “I can’t deal with this right now." he muttered, letting out a weary sigh.

“Aw, come on, don’t be like that!” the other man said with a laugh, shoving the bag of chips toward the Italian. “Here, have some. Chips make everything better.”

Romano wanted nothing more than to slap Prussia across the face and shove that disgusting bag of chips down his throat for even daring to suggest that he—Romano, the Southern half of Italy, a place renowned for its divine cuisine—should eat cheap, mass-produced junk food. But thankfully, he managed to control his temper. He reminded himself that he had far more important things to focus on than wasting his energy on an idiot like Prussia. For instance, he still needed to get his glass of water, return to his room, and hopefully get at least an hour of sleep, maybe even two if he got lucky.

"I'd rather die." the Italian responded, grabbing a random glass from the counter and filling it with water. He was just about to leave when the ex-nation's grating voice rang out again, cutting through the silence and freezing Romano in his tracks.

"Ey, wait up!" the albino called out, causing the dark brunette to grit his teeth in frustration.

"What is it now?!" the Southern nation exclaimed, his patience wearing thin. All he wanted was to return to his room and salvage what little rest he could.

Prussia simply tilted his head to the side with a grin. "You never answered my question!" he said casually.

Hearing that, the Italian furrowed his brows in confusion, narrowing his eyes suspiciously at the other man. "What question?"

The German simply pointed at Romano with a shrug. "Why you're awake." he said matter-of-factly, before adding with a smirk, "I told you why I'm up, so it's only fair you return the favor."

The dark brunette felt a chill run through him for a moment, his palms growing clammy. He hadn’t expected Prussia to bring that up again. It had seemed so trivial and irrelevant that Romano himself had forgotten about it, but apparently, Prussia hadn’t. Then it hit him. He wasn’t obligated to answer. Who did the bastard think he was to demand an answer to such a personal question? Nobody, that’s who.

"It's none of your business." Romano shot back, his scowl deepening.

"True." the former nation simply replied, dragging out the word with an infuriating smirk. "But I’m curious, so... humor me."

The Italian locked eyes with the Germanic nation, meeting those crimson orbs that seemed to hold a flicker of curiosity—yet there was something else behind them, something Romano couldn’t quite grasp. Maybe it was just his mind playing tricks on him. Shaking his head, he dismissed the unnecessary thought. He wasn’t about to waste his energy trying to figure out what was going on in Prussia’s twisted mind.

His jaw tightened in frustration, and before he knew it, he raised one of his hands, pointing accusingly at the albino. But before any words could escape him, Prussia’s gaze flicked sharply to Romano’s hand, his expression shifting into one of sudden intrigue.

"What's that?" the former nation asked, squinting as he tried to figure out what the Italian was holding.

Romano’s eyes widened as he looked down at his hand, realizing he had just revealed the very thing he’d been trying to keep hidden from Prussia. In an instant, he yanked his hand behind him, clutching the bottle of pills tightly in panic.

"Nothing!" the Southern nation quickly replied, his voice higher and more frantic than he intended, only sparking more curiosity in the other man.

Without a word, the albino set the chips aside and took a step closer to Romano, attempting to see what he was hiding. The dark brunette's heart began to race as the other man encroached on his space. Oh shit, he couldn’t let Prussia see the damn sleeping pills. He’d never hear the end of it.

His mind scrambled for a solution, but all he could think to do was move away, so that’s exactly what he did. He took a step back, but to his dismay, the Germanic nation took a step forward, not giving up. Prussia shifted slightly to the left, trying to circle him, his red eyes glinting with curiosity. Romano, in a panic, mirrored his movements, sidestepping to keep the bottle out of the albino's line of sight.

"What are you hiding?" the ex-nation pressed, his voice low, almost amused, but there was a hint of insistence in it now.

"I told you, nothing!" Romano growled, his panic intensifying as he saw Prussia move again, this time attempting to get behind him. In response, the Italian swiftly stepped to the side, matching the ex-nation’s movement to block his view. His back was now facing the adjoining living room, and he tried to use that to make a quick exit. But in his haste, he misjudged his steps and accidentally bumped into the coffee table, halting his escape.

"Damn it!" the shorter man muttered under his breath, cursing himself for being so careless. However, he didn’t have time to dwell on his mistake, as he suddenly found himself face-to-face with the German. Prussia was now standing far too close for Romano's comfort, completely unaware of the proximity as he tried to peer over the Italian's shoulder.

In that moment, alarms were blaring in Romano's head and all his thoughts could form was 'AAAAAAHHHH'. If the other man noticed the pills, it wouldn’t take long to connect the dots. He’d realize Romano suffered from insomnia, that he was weak, vulnerable, and utterly pathetic. The thought alone was unbearable.

Overcome by panic, the Southern nation reacted without thinking. In a burst of impulse, he threw the glass of water in his hand, splashing it directly into Prussia's face. The sudden action took the German by surprise, causing him to stumble backward in shock, nearly tripping over himself.

Romano stared at him, then down at the empty glass in his hand, his eyes slightly widened. That hadn't been what he’d intended to do, but his body had acted instinctively to 'protect him' from the threat that was Prussia. He parted his lips as if to speak, an apology lingering on the tip of his tongue, but quickly dismissed it. Why should he care? It was Prussia's fault for getting water thrown in his face in the first place. That nosy bastard had it coming, barging into his business and invading his personal space like that. He’d gotten exactly what he deserved. And now, with the German distracted, Romano could finally make his escape.

Without a word, he turned sharply on his heel and slipped out of the living room, careful to move as silently as possible. The moment he stepped into the hallway, he broke into a sprint, taking the stairs two at a time as he rushed back to his room. Once inside, he slammed the door shut behind him with a resounding thud and pressed his back against it, his chest heaving from the effort.

Back downstairs, the German staggered slightly before regaining his footing, his expression frozen in shock. For a moment, he simply stood there, blinking as the cold water dripped down his face, soaking into the fabric of his shirt and leaving dark, damp patches. His brows slowly furrowed, and with a frustrated sigh, he ran a hand down his face, wiping away the water. "What the hell was that for—” he began, his voice sharper than usual, but the words died in his throat as he glanced toward the spot where Romano had been standing. To his surprise, the Southern nation had vanished.

Prussia glanced around, confusion evident on his face, before it dawned on him that Romano must have slipped away. His initial shock shifted briefly to mild disappointment, followed by a twinge of guilt. He hadn’t meant to upset the guy, really. Sure, he could be obnoxious, but this time he’d only been curious, trying to figure out what had Romano acting so out of character. Unfortunately, his curiosity seemed to have backfired spectacularly. Guess that saying about curiosity killing the cat wasn't just a joke. A shame, too, since they’d actually seemed to be making some progress—if you could even call their bickering progress. How utterly disappointing...

However, the disappointment didn’t linger long, quickly giving way to annoyance as he looked down at his now-damp sleep shirt. “My awesome shirt!” he exclaimed, grabbing the fabric and inspecting it with exaggerated dismay. The so-called awesome shirt had the phrase, ‘Awesomeness isn’t made, it’s born!’ written on it in bold letters. “Great, now I’ve gotta change it. How unlucky."

With a huff of frustration, the German turned to leave, but then his gaze landed on the puddle of water pooling on the floor. He stopped in his tracks, deciding that handling the mess was more urgent—water and hardwood floors didn’t exactly get along.

Upstairs, Romano paced back and forth in the cramped confines of his room, his movements restless and agitated. Low, muttered curses spilled from his lips, most of them directed at Prussia, who was the root of his current frustration. His face was strained in frustration, and without realizing it, he kept clenching and unclenching his fists, his nails digging into his palms as he struggled to keep himself from shouting.

Now that the immediate 'danger' had passed and the adrenaline rush from earlier had worn off, he finally had the space to process what had just happened, and it wasn’t looking good. The more he thought about it, the worse it seemed. How had things gotten so out of control? Damn, that had been way too close. He’d nearly been caught. He hadn’t expected to bump into anyone at 4 AM, especially not Prussia. Yet, somehow, it happened, and it almost turned into a total disaster. Who was Romano kidding? It didn’t almost turn into a disaster, it had been one.

"Augh!" the Italian groaned, his frustration boiling over as he fought the urge to punch, kick, or hit something, anything, to release the anger brewing inside of him. His foot slammed against the floor in an angry stomp before he turned his attention to the small desk in the corner of the room. With a sharp shove, he sent everything on its surface tumbling to the ground, pens clattering across the floor and scattered papers fluttering down in disarray.

But it wasn’t enough. He needed more. He needed to break something. Without hesitation, he grabbed the desk's chair and flung it to the ground, the wooden legs scraping loudly as it slid into the wall. The collision left a faint mark on its white surface, but Romano didn’t care. He needed this.

The man’s breathing gradually evened out, the fury that had consumed him moments ago finally dissipating. But in its place, there was no relief or satisfaction, only a gnawing sense of unease.

This wasn’t good, not good at all. That damn idiot Prussia. That bastard. It was all his fault. Why had he even been awake? He should’ve been sleeping. If he had, at least Romano wouldn’t have had to go through all that nerve-wracking and awkwardness. Honestly, running into the German in the middle of the night wasn’t even the main issue—well, it kind of was, since the guy had scared him half to death and annoyed him to no end—but that wasn’t the real problem. The real issue was that Prussia couldn’t keep his nose out of other people’s business. Now, thanks to his nosiness, the ex-nation knew something was up with Romano. And knowing him, he’d probably start poking around, trying to pry like the bastard he was.

Romano didn’t want that. He really didn’t. His life was already stressful enough as it was. Dealing with the former nation trying to dig into his personal affairs was going to push him over the edge.

Damn, why did this always happen to him? How could he be so unlucky?

The Southern part of Italy pressed a hand to his face, anxiously clawing at his skin in distress, too lost in his own thoughts to notice he was hurting himself. All he'd wanted was a single glass of water to take his damn sleeping pills, just to get a few damn hours of sleep.

He should have taken them before going to bed, he really should have. But, like the idiot that he was, he’d clung to the hope that he might fall asleep without them, relying on his brother's assurance that being in a new environment would make sleeping easily. He should have known better. He would never have such luck.

To make matters worse, he didn’t even have a drop of water left to swallow the pills—he’d wasted it all by throwing it in Prussia’s irritating face. All the effort it had taken just to get that water in the first place had been for nothing, especially since he wouldn’t be getting any sleep tonight. And God knew how desperately he needed it.

He hadn’t slept the night before leaving for Germany, nor the night before that. So, if he stayed awake tonight, it would mark three full days since he's had any sort of rest. Three days. That was longer than he’d ever gone without sleeping, and the thought terrified him beyond measure.

A sickly sensation settled in Romano’s chest, and for a moment, he found himself unable to breathe. However, before the feeling could intensify, he raised a hand to his face and firmly slapped himself. The slap was enough to relieve the pressure in his chest, redirecting his focus to the sting in his cheek instead.

"Rimettiti in sesto! (Pull yourself together!)" the man muttered to himself, practically hissing the words out.

He recognized the signs of a breakdown all too well, and that was exactly what was happening to him. But he couldn’t afford to fall apart, not here, not now. He’d already done that enough back home. This wasn’t the time or place, especially not over something so insignificant. People in the world had real problems, and here he was, crying over every little thing. The Southern half of Italy needed to pull himself together and toughen up, just like any nation with centuries worth of history was supposed to do.

So what if that bastard Prussia now knew that something was off with him? It wasn’t like he knew what exactly was off, and Romano sure as hell wasn’t going to tell him. He’d just have to be twice as mean to him, and ignore the idiot until he went home. Very simple.

Yeah. Romano could do this. Everything was going to be fine. He was fine.

Romano drew in a sharp breath, placing his hand firmly over his chest. He held it there for a moment, focusing on the steady rhythm of his heartbeat as he held his breath. Slowly, the ache in his chest began to ease, the pressure lifting bit by bit. Finally, with a shaky exhale, he allowed himself to breathe again, his body relaxing as he lowered himself onto the edge of the bed. His hands rested heavily on his knees for a moment before he glanced down at the blanket beside him.

Absentmindedly, he smoothed the fabric with one hand, only to flinch slightly as his fingers brushed against something cold. Turning his head, he realized it was his phone. He’d completely forgotten he’d left it there after coming back from the kitchen. He paused, staring at it for a moment, internally debating whether to pick it up or not. Eventually, he lifted the device and brought it closer to his face. The screen lit up, revealing the time—5:56 AM. Almost six. The sight of the early hour made him grimace, and with a sigh, he shut off the screen, letting the phone slip from his hand and fall back onto the bed.

It was really early. No one was awake yet. His brother was a late riser, so he likely wouldn’t be up until at least 11:00 AM, and Germany, though Romano didn’t particularly care to see him, would probably stay in bed longer for the sake of Veneziano. As for Prussia... well, he’d probably gone back to sleep by now, like the annoying bastard that he was, capable of sleeping through anything, left Romano with plenty of time to himself before he’d have to face anyone again.

He wanted to sleep, but it wasn’t going to happen unless Romano took something, and for that, he needed water, which was downstairs. However, he didn’t feel like going back down. He didn’t want to risk running into Prussia again. The Italian knew that the chances were slim and that he was probably being paranoid, but he still didn’t want to take the chance.

The man shifted his gaze to the window, watching as the first traces of sunrise began to paint the dark sky with soft hues of orange. The colors seemed almost soothing, but the comfort they offered was hollow. After a moment, he turned his eyes back to the bed, staring at it intensely. Slowly, he moved closer, settling near the headboard and resting his head on the pillows. Yet, even as he lay there, he made no effort to close his eyes, let alone sleep. Instead, his focus returned to the window, where he silently watched the sun climb higher and higher into the sky.

"Stupid pills, stupid Prussia, stupid everything." the Italian muttered under his breath, sighing tiredly.

Chapter Text

Morning arrived sooner than Romano had anticipated, or rather lunch, given how late it was. Sunlight streamed into his room, flooding every corner of it and making the space uncomfortably bright despite the chilly weather outside. Groaning, the dark-haired man turned over and squeezed his eyes shut.

As expected, he hadn’t been able to sleep and had spent the past hours lying in bed, lost in his thoughts. Yet, even though he was awake, he had no desire to get out of bed, and not because he was trying to fall asleep again—he knew that wasn’t going to happen—but because he felt awful. His head was pounding, his muscles were sore, and his eyes were so dry they felt like they might stop working altogether.

Romano felt so bad that he could only compare it to being stuck in bed with a terrible illness. Honestly, if death showed up in that moment, he wasn’t sure he’d even care. Maybe shaking hands with the grim reaper wouldn’t be so bad if it meant he didn’t have to feel this miserable anymore.

Just as the man was about to sink deeper into his gloomy thoughts, the faint sound of footsteps echoed from downstairs, pulling him back to the present. Blinking, he rolled onto his back and strained his ears to listen more closely. He could make out the soft hum of voices and the occasional clatter of dishes. It meant that everyone else was up and likely gathered in the kitchen for breakfast.

The thought of food made his stomach growl loudly, reminding him of how hungry he was. He hadn’t eaten much at dinner last night, and now, with it being so late in the morning, it had almost been an entire day since he’d last had a proper meal.

Still, the idea of getting up—and worse, having to talk to anyone, especially Prussia—felt unbearable. He stayed in bed for another ten minutes, trying to ignore his stomach's protests. But the hunger only grew worse, leaving him feeling nauseous. Eventually, the man gave in and dragged himself out of bed.

The nation grabbed some comfortable clothes, stepped out of his room, and began his search for the bathroom. Germany had told him where it was the day before, but Romano had been too irritated by the sound of his voice to bother listening. Now, he was regretting it. With a frustrated huff, he muttered a string of curses under his breath and started opening doors one by one, hoping to stumble upon the right one.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he found it. A wave of relief washed over him as he stepped inside and locked the door behind him. Wasting no time, the Italian quickly showered and brushed his teeth before changing into the new set of clothes. The warm water and clean outfit was comforting, and for a fleeting moment, Romano felt a bit better. However, that brief sense of solace vanished the instant his eyes met his reflection in the mirror.

He looked... exhausted. His eyes were bloodshot red with noticeable dark circles beneath them, his hair was a complete mess, and his skin had taken on a pale, sickly hue that made his exhaustion all the more obvious.

Romano pressed his lips into a tight line, staring at his reflection. He looked worse than ever, even more so than when his country had been at war. Back then, no matter how hard things got, he’d always managed to pull himself together, keeping his image flawless despite the hardships. But now, something as seemingly insignificant as insomnia had completely torn him apart, and he hated it. He hated how tired he looked and how terrible he felt. He hated how weak he was for letting this stupid sleeplessness take over his life. He hated himself. If only he’d been stronger like his grandfather or more carefree like his brother, maybe, just maybe, he wouldn’t be in this mess.

"Damn it." Romano hissed, shutting his eyes and shaking his head, trying to push the dark thoughts from his mind. No, no, no. He shouldn’t be thinking like that. It was way too early—no, too late—for him to already be tearing himself down. He did enough of that at night, he didn’t need to do it during the day too. It would only make him more miserable, and he couldn’t let the others see just how badly he was struggling.

That would be terrible.

The Southern nation lightly slapped his cheeks, the sharp sensation snapping him back to reality. He took a deep breath, inhaling sharply before exhaling slowly, calming himself down. Romano reached for the faucet, turning it on with a quiet click, and splashed cold water onto his face, feeling the chill seep into his skin.

His eyes wandered back to his reflection, then shifted to his hair. Unlike the rest of him, that was something he could fix. With a soft sigh, he rubbed his eyes then ran his fingers through the mess of tangles, attempting to smooth it down and look somewhat presentable. Once he felt satisfied with the result, he gave himself one final glance before leaving the bathroom.

The man descended the stairs and headed into the kitchen. But as soon as he stepped inside, he immediately regretted it once he saw how crowded and loud the room was. Veneziano was by the counter, humming a cheerful Italian tune that Romano vaguely recognized, while making coffee.

Germany, on the other hand, was busy preparing some kind of... breakfast, or rather, something that was supposed to be breakfast. To the Southern nation, however, it looked more like a culinary disaster than anything else. And then there was Prussia. Of course, he had to be there too. Just seeing him made Romano groan internally, especially after the awkward and downright terrible interaction they’d had a few hours earlier.

The former nation was standing off to the side, feeding that ridiculous bird of his while talking obnoxiously loud to the younger German. His grating voice echoed through the room, making Romano's already-throbbing headache worse.

The dark-haired man squinted in discomfort, resisting the strong urge to retreat back upstairs and lock himself in his room. Instead, he shuffled sluggishly across the floor, before slumping into a chair at the table. He leaned forward, resting one arm on the surface and propping his head in his hand. The others noticed his arrival and seemed ready to say something, but before either of the two Germans could speak, his brother beat them to it, sprinting over to the table with far too much energy for Romano’s liking.

"Buongiorno, fratello!" Veneziano exclaimed, waving enthusiastically at his brother as though he were sitting across the room rather than directly in front of him.

The older Italian merely rolled his eyes at the gesture. "Buongiorno..." he grumbled. However, he barely got the words out when he found himself enveloped in a pair of arms—his brother's arms—who had moved closer and was now squeezing him in a suffocating hug.

"Ow! Stop that!" the Southern nation hissed, feeling far too pitiful for any sort of physical interaction. "Veneziano!" he nearly shouted, shoving the other man away.

The younger brunette didn’t appear fazed by Romano’s cold attitude, still wearing a wide smile. "Ah, you're always so grumpy in the morning!" he remarked, rocking back and forth on his feet. "I was just trying to bring a little joy to your day!"

"I don't want any joy." Romano mumbled, earning a small laugh from the other man.

"You know, they say that if you start your day with a smile, the rest of it will be full of smiles!" Veneziano explained, pointing to his mouth, which was stretched into a wide grin.

The dark brunette let out a frustrated huff, burying his face in his hand. He often wondered what exactly went on in his brother's head that Northern nation was so positive and oblivious all the time.

"Italy!" suddenly, Germany's voice echoed through the kitchen, causing both Romano and Veneziano to slightly jump in their spots. "Don't just walk off while you're making coffee!" the German shouted, followed by a snicker from his older brother.

Upon hearing that, realization flashed across the younger Italian's face. "Ah! The coffee!" he exclaimed, placing a hand over his mouth. He started to move toward the counter but suddenly froze, locking eyes with Romano. A determined expression crossed his face, and without warning, he shook the Southern nation a little too violently, basically whisking his brains together. "Don't worry fratello, I will be right back!" the light brunette managed to say, just before sprinting back toward the kitchen, almost tripping over himself.

The hazel-eyed man began massaging his head, feeling as if his eyes were about to spin out of their sockets from how roughly he’d been shaken. God, his brother was going to kill him one day with all that blunt affection. Romano was about to mentally complain more about Veneziano's bad habits, but before he could, he heard footsteps approaching.

Looking up, he was dismayed to see Germany walking toward him, holding two plates filled with that disgusting breakfast concoction he'd made. Romano couldn’t help but cringe at the unappetizing sight, fighting the urge to gag.

Germany, however, seemed oblivious to the Italian’s disgust, simply placing the plates on the table—sliding one toward himself and the other toward the far end of the table before sitting down. Thankfully, he was seated across from the Southern nation, but it was still irritating as hell that he was so close.

"Good morning." the blonde man said flatly, staring at Romano before offering a brief, polite nod.

At the sound of those words, the Southern Italian furrowed his brows, his face instantly contorting into a deep scowl as if the very words had personally offended him—which, to be fair, they kind of did. Why was Germany even talking to him? He knew Romano couldn’t stand him, yet the idiot still tried to make small talk like it was nothing. And how dare he assume Romano was having a good morning? He wasn’t! It was one of the worst mornings of his life, and the bastard was only making it worse.

The Italian wanted to tell the German to shut up and leave him alone, but since it was Germany's house, he didn’t feel like he had the right to say that. Instead, he maintained his scowl and turned his gaze to the wooden table, fuming quietly, not bothering to say a word in response.

The Germanic nation didn’t seem to mind, continuing to shift things around the table as if trying to make it look more organized, which only annoyed Romano further.

A few seconds later, Veneziano returned, balancing a platter with four cups of steaming hot coffee in one hand and a plate of cannoli in the other, somehow managing not to trip or spill anything. The light brunette placed the platters in the center of the table, then pulled the chair next to Germany and sat down beside him, beaming brightly.

"Look, Romano!" the younger Italian exclaimed, gesturing excitedly toward the coffee and cannoli he’d brought. "Coffee and cannoli, just like at home!" he said, clapping his hands in delight, and Romano was almost certain he could see sparkles around him.

The Southern part of Italy reached out and took a cup of coffee, pulling it closer to himself before wrapping both hands around it to warm them. He knew he should be avoiding coffee—insomnia and coffee didn’t exactly mix well—but after weeks of resisting, he could only torture himself for so long. Plus, he was on vacation, so he figured he had the right to indulge.

With that thought, he lifted the cup to his face and inhaled deeply. The aroma was comforting, easing his nerves even if just a little. It reminded him of the coffee he’d have back in Rome. He brought the cup to his lips and took a sip, feeling the warm liquid slide down his throat, the taste so good it almost made him smile (keyword 'almost').

"It's great, no?" Italy asked, picking up two cups of coffee. He placed one in front of himself and handed the other to Germany, who offered a small smile and stared at him a little too long for Romano's liking.

Romano decided to ignore the sappy interaction between his brother and his potato-for-brains boyfriend, focusing instead on enjoying his coffee. "It's whatever." he muttered, not wanting to admit that he was actually enjoying it.

But now that he thought about it, he found it odd how the coffee could be this good, considering he was in Germany—a place not exactly known for its high-quality coffee beans, but rather for that disgusting instant powder stuff its people dared to call coffee. Romano had a strong feeling that what his brother was serving him wasn’t instant coffee, but he still wanted to be sure. God only knew what Veneziano could do to please his potato-eating boyfriend.

"This isn't instant coffee, right?" the dark brunette asked, arching an eyebrow.

At his question, the younger Italian’s face fell, and a horrified expression overtook him. "Oh no! No, no, no! Never!" he exclaimed, shaking his head wildly. "Can't you taste how good it is? This can’t possibly be compared to... to instant coffee!" he added, his voice taking on a near-panicked tone, as if the mere mention of the word was too frightening to utter. "This is real coffee, made from good coffee beans! Italian coffee beans, even!" he declared, waving his hands around and gesturing dramatically at his cup, nearly knocking it over. "I would never, ever in my life prepare that disgusting instant coffee that Germany has. It's just so bleh, while real coffee is just so ah!" he continued, his expression turning almost serious before it seemed to hit him what he had just said. Slowly, Italy turned toward the blonde man with an apologetic look. "Eh, sorry Germany..."

"It's alright." the German sighed, gently patting Veneziano's hand in a comforting gesture. "I'm not offended, if that's what you're worried about. It’s not like I invented it." he said, trying to reassure the shorter nation. His tone was a bit too stoic to be truly comforting, but Italy seemed to understand anyway, his face lighting up immediately.

"I'm glad!" Veneziano exclaimed happily, clasping his hands together before leaning into the Western nation's side and turning his attention back to Romano. "Anyway, rest assured, this is 100% authentic Italian coffee, and the cannoli are the real deal too!" he said proudly. "Germany actually went out of his way to buy it from a new Italian coffee shop that just opened nearby!" the younger Italian explained, his tone full of joy. "And guess what? The owners are actually from Southern Italy! How cool is that?"

Romano blinked at his younger brother, who was grinning far too brightly at him, before his gaze shifted to the coffee. The rapid stream of words had been a bit overwhelming, especially for his sleep-deprived brain. However, he was relieved to know that what he was drinking was high-quality, and from his part of Italy no less, and not anything remotely German—though he had already suspected as much.

"Great." the Southern nation replied flatly, before picking up a cannoli and taking a bite.

The sweet pastry nearly made him melt on the spot, and before he knew it, Romano had devoured it in a single bite, immediately reaching for another. He picked up his cup of coffee and took a large sip, feeling his mood noticeably improve. For a moment, he almost believed his morning was turning around. But, of course, he spoke too soon and jinxed it, because in the blink of an eye, Prussia appeared at the table, jumping into the seat at the far end—right next to Romano.

The white-haired man locked eyes with him for a brief second, his red eyes narrowing just enough to send a chill down the Italian's spine, before he flashed the Southern nation a wide grin and a small salute. "Morning!" he said, not waiting for a response before dropping a large bag of seeds onto the table, causing it to topple and spill everywhere.

"Hier Gilbird, you can continue your feast here!" the older German said, gently placing the yellow bird on the table and petting it affectionately, earning a small chirp in response. He then grabbed a fork and hit its end on the table in a childish manner. "Man, I’m so hungry, I could eat a whole horse!"

Romano glanced at the former nation from the corner of his eye, feeling a wave of discomfort wash over him. Not only did the guy have no sense of hygiene, casually bringing his animal onto the table like it was no big deal, but he also lacked any kind of table manners. And why was Prussia sitting so close to him? There were plenty of other seats! The last thing Romano wanted was to have to talk to him, or worse, have Prussia bring up that awkward thing that had happened between them at 4 a.m. What would the others even say to that?! The thought of everything spiraling out of control made Romano want to rip his own skin off and crawl beneath the floorboards.

Romano was likely making an expression of clear discomfort, as Germany seemed to notice right away. "Prussia," he said, his tone sharp as he cleared his throat. "What did I tell you about bringing your bird to the table?" he asked, though he didn’t give the other a chance to respond. "It’s unsanitary, careless, and frankly, disrespectful to the people trying to eat here." he added, his voice firm as he cast a disapproving glance at the bird perched on the table.

"Hey! Gilbird isn’t just any bird!" the red-eyed man shot back, jabbing a sausage with his fork and biting into it. "He’s practically family!" he continued, his words muffled by the food in his mouth. Romano immediately had to turn his head away, his stomach turning at the disgusting display.

"Please refrain from speaking with your mouth full..." Germany said, his voice laced with annoyance.

"Muphm ff hm tk!" Prussia mumbled, shoving a whole fried egg into his mouth and chewing noisily, causing the younger German's face to contort into a rare expression of anger.

"It's fine Germany!" Italy suddenly interjected, sensing the tension in the air. "It doesn’t bother me!"

"Ha!" the white-haired man exclaimed, swallowing loudly. "See, West? If little Italy says it's fine, then it's fine!"

The blonde nation shot him a sharp glare. "No, but it bothers the rest of us." he said, grabbing the bag of seeds and scooping the spilled ones back in. He placed the bag at the edge of the table before waving his hand to shoo the yellow bird away, which promptly flew and landed on Prussia's shoulder.

"Low blow, West." the Prussian remarked, making a thumbs-down gesture before turning his attention to Romano. Catching sight of the motion, the Italian quickly shielded his face with one hand and averted his gaze, hoping to avoid being dragged into the conversation. However, Prussia didn’t catch on and pointed directly at him. "Check it! Even Roma over here is horrified by your cruelty!"

Hearing that, the Southern part of Italy scowled, silently cursing the white-haired German for being so oblivious and unable to read the room. It was obvious Romano wanted nothing to do with this ridiculous conversation—or with him, for that matter.

"Fuck off!" Romano snapped, shifting to the edge of his chair to put some distance between himself and Prussia.

As always, the albino seemed completely oblivious to social cues and simply laughed at the dark brunette’s remark, acting as if it were some kind of joke rather than a genuine demand to be left alone. "Gee, someone didn't get enough sleep tonight."

As soon as the words left the ex-nation’s mouth, Romano whipped his head around, his eyes wide in disbelief, his face contorting into an expression of pure shock. He blinked once, twice, then three times, struggling to process whether he had really heard what he thought he did.

Did Prussia know about his sleeping issues...? No, there was no way. He had been too careful to let anything slip or show... Prussia couldn't possibly know. That seemed unlikely... could he?

...

No.

The Italian was just overthinking again, his irrational paranoia twisting things in his mind and filling him with unnecessary worries. Prussia was just being his usual self, cracking jokes to annoy Romano. That’s all it was—just a harmless joke, nothing more.

...

But what if… what if back then, Prussia had actually noticed the sleeping pills Romano had been trying to hide? What if he had seen everything but hadn’t said a word, simply because Romano had run off too quickly for him to react? And what if now, with everyone gathered together, Prussia was planning to bring it all up?

What if he revealed Romano’s secret to Germany, and they all laughed at him—mocking how pathetic and weak he was? What if even his brother saw how worthless he truly was, laughed at him too, and then decided he didn’t deserve to be a nation anymore—leaving him to fade away and die?

"Hellooo? Earth to Romano!" Prussia’s voice suddenly broke through the Southern nation’s thoughts, yanking him back to the present. "You good?" the former nation asked, waving a hand in front of the older Italian’s face.

The hazel-eyed man stared at the hand in front of him before slowly raising his own to gently push it aside, resting it on the table. He then pulled his hand back, wrapping his arms tightly around himself instead. The unusual gesture only deepened the albino's confusion, his brows knitting together as he regarded Romano with an uncertain expression. He looked like he was about to say something, but the words died in his throat the moment he caught sight of Romano’s face.

The Italian was staring at him with such a terrified expression that, for once in his life, the white-haired man was at a complete loss for words. Prussia opened his mouth, but no sound came out. He closed it again, his gaze locked on the hazel eyes filled with fear, then tried once more to speak, only for the words to fizzle out before they could fully form. "Uhm..." he finally managed, glancing toward his younger brother, who looked just as baffled as he was. "I- uh... I was just joking?" he said, his tone uncertain, as if even he wasn’t sure whether that was the cause of the Italian’s sudden unease.

"Oh." the Southern nation murmured, his face still twisted in that same distressed expression. "Right." he added, his voice almost breathy, as though a weight had just been lifted from his shoulders. Saying nothing else, Romano lowered his gaze back to his coffee, wrapping his hands around the cup and tapping his fingers lightly against its sides in a subtly anxious rhythm.

Of course, it had just been a joke! But no, Romano had to overreact, turning it into a huge deal and making himself look even more suspicious in the process. Stupid, stupid, stupid!

In that moment, the Southern nation wished for nothing more than to disappear into the ground and never face anyone again. With a shaky sigh, he slumped into his chair, lowering his head to avoid meeting the others' gazes.

The older German watched as Romano seemed to physically deflate, his gaze shifting from the distressed expression on the Italian’s face to his subtle fidgeting and tense posture. Blinking in confusion, he struggled to understand what about his words had put the other so on edge.

Prussia replayed them in his mind, but no matter how many times he went over them, he couldn’t pinpoint where he might have gone wrong. In his opinion, nothing he’d said should have provoked such a bad reaction—yet it was clear Romano saw things differently.

Prussia wracked his brain for answers but came up empty. Maybe… maybe it had something to do with their encounter in the middle of the night. Perhaps he had been too pushy and somehow upset Romano. But pushiness usually irritated Romano—it didn’t frighten him.
The red-eyed man mulled over the thought for a moment longer before deciding it might be better to just ask. However, before he could say anything, Veneziano suddenly spoke.

"Fratello... stai bene? (Brother... are you ok?)" Italy slowly asked, his voice tinged with concern as his brown eyes locked onto the older Italian, his expression etched with worry.

The Southern nation lifted his head, casting a glance at his younger sibling. If Veneziano had noticed his sudden change in mood, then the others surely had as well. Fuck. He might as well have dug his own grave and thrown himself into it.

Clenching his jaw, the dark brunette mustered one of his trademark glares, determined to push everything aside. He wanted to say yes—that he was fine, great even—just to ease his brother's worry and make him stop prying. But the words wouldn’t come out. It was too hard to lie, especially when he felt like he’d been skinned alive then thrown into ice-cold water. In the end, despite his best efforts, he simply shook his head in a small, reluctant no.

Noticing this, Italy’s expression shifted, the faintest hint of sadness flickering across his face. It was subtle—almost unnoticeable—but Romano could see it. There was a slight quiver to his lips, and his brown eyes shone with a mixture of worry and pain. Slowly, Veneziano rose to his feet, his movements hesitant as though unsure if he should act. He stepped away from Germany’s side, his gaze briefly flicking to the two Germans, who were watching him with confused expressions.

Circling the table, the Northern nation approached Romano and sat down in the empty chair beside him, casting him an uncertain glance, before scooting his chair closer. Veneziano then raised a hand, gesturing for the older man to lean in. Raising an eyebrow, Romano complied, tilting his head toward his younger sibling, who brought a hand to his mouth, shielding it.

"Hai dormito stanotte? (Did you sleep tonight?)" the light brunette whispered, his voice so soft it was barely audible, yet clear enough for the hazel-eyed man to understand.

The question made his chest tighten. If he had been feeling even slightly better, he might have shoved Veneziano away and yelled at him for bringing up something so personal with others in the room. But after the near heart attack Prussia had given him, he didn’t have the energy left to curse or react. Instead, he quietly whispered, "No..." before pulling back and lowering his gaze to the floor.

He couldn’t see his brother’s expression, but he was certain it was one of pity—a look he knew he wouldn’t be able to tolerate if he caught sight of it. So, instead, he kept his eyes fixed on the hardwood floor beneath him, feigning interest in its grain and texture rather than acknowledging anything happening at that cursed table.

"Is everything alright-" Germany’s voice cut through the stifling silence, but before he could finish his sentence, Veneziano sprang to his feet again, nearly knocking over the table in the process.

"Germany, Germany!" he called out, though his voice lacked its usual excitement when addressing his lover. Instead, it was laced with urgency and unease. "Do you want to hear about the super-duper fun schedule I’ve planned for today?!" the younger Italian tried to sound enthusiastic, but the distress in his tone was impossible to hide.

The blonde man stared at his lover for a moment, his brows knitting together in confusion. "You... made a schedule for today?" he asked, blinking as he tried to process the unexpected statement.

"Yeahhh!" Italy replied with a small, nervous laugh.

"Why...?" Germany asked, his blue eyes briefly shifting to Romano before returning to Italy, who was practically trembling where he stood. "I mean, I’m impressed and honestly quite pleased since you’re usually all over the place," he said thoughtfully. "But this is so unlike you that I can’t help but feel a little concerned..."

"Concerned?!" Veneziano nearly shouted, his voice rising in surprise before he quickly lowered it, glancing around as if to make sure no one else had heard. He shuffled back next to Germany, leaning in slightly and giving him a light poke in the forearm with a small smile. "Pffft, Germany, you're overthinking again!" he exclaimed, trying to ease the tension. "I just took your advice about being more organized to heart, that’s all!" his tone was light and breezy, but there was a hint of forced cheerfulness in it.

Germany looked at him, his expression still uncertain, as if he wasn’t quite buying the smaller man’s explanation. He opened his mouth, likely ready to press further, but before he could say anything, Veneziano quickly wrapped his arms around Germany’s neck, pulling him in just slightly and making an exaggerated kissy face. "It’s because I love Germany so, so much!"

The German’s eyes widened just slightly at the confession, looking momentarily taken aback. Despite the warmth in the words, he still seemed uncertain, as if he wasn’t fully convinced. After a deep sigh, he returned the hug, offering the light brunette a small, reassuring smile. "Alright, then. What did you plan?"

As soon as he heard that, Italy’s mood instantly brightened, and his usual cheerful demeanor returned. With a loud 'Mwah', he planted a kiss on Germany’s cheek. “I’m telling you, you’re going to love it!” he exclaimed, settling back down beside Germany. Then, turning to Prussia, he pointed a finger at him. “Prussia, you should listen too—I bet you’ll love it just as much!”

The older German jolted slightly at the Italian’s words, seeming to have been lost in thought, but he quickly regained his composure. “Eh, sure, little Italy. I’m sure I’ll be on board with whatever you’ve come up with!" he replied, flashing a grin and giving him a thumbs-up.

At his response, Italy lit up with excitement and eagerly began talking about all the amazing places he had researched for their trip, the activities they would do, and how much fun they were going to have. Romano quickly lost track of his brother’s enthusiastic ramblings, zoning out.

Still, he was grateful for the distraction Veneziano had provided. He wasn’t sure he could handle any questions from Germany or Prussia at the moment. Honestly, they needed to learn to mind their own business.

Whatever. It was fine.

...

Well, actually it wasn't fine, but saying it made the situation feel more manageable.

Romano still couldn’t believe he had reacted that way to a damn joke, making a complete fool of himself and nearly screwing everything up. Just hours ago, he had sworn he’d ignore Prussia and keep things under control, but one comment—just one—that struck a little too close to home had completely broken that promise.

So much for keeping it together.

He needed to stop overreacting before he gave himself away—not that he hadn’t already. But maybe, just maybe, he could salvage what was left by blaming it on feeling sick or something. Anything to get those bastards off his back.

Damn, Romano kept screwing up, and it hadn’t even been a full day. How much longer did he have to endure this torture? Five days? No, six? Wait—seven, including today, since yesterday didn’t count. Ugh! Why was time moving so damn slowly? He couldn’t stand being in this country any longer! He just wanted to go home! He’d already told himself this a hundred times and would probably say it a hundred more: this trip was a terrible idea. Romano had never regretted something so much. Instead of helping him, it was only making everything a million times worse.

The dark brunette dragged a hand over his face, covering his eyes, feeling like he was about to sink straight into the ground. He felt as if he were trapped in one of those awful survival games Prussia never shut up about, constantly losing HP. Seriously, how many heart attacks could he endure before his body finally gave out? Sure, he was a nation and technically immortal, but was it really normal to deal with this much stress on a daily basis? There had to be a limit.

With a sigh, Romano let his hand drop back onto the table and leaned into his chair, pretending to listen to his brother’s chatter. New plan. If he wanted to survive the next agonizing seven days without completely losing it, he needed to be careful. No more overreactions, no more suspicious behavior. He had already slipped up twice—TWICE—in just one day. He couldn’t afford another mistake. From now on, he’d avoid interacting with the Germans altogether and stick to talking only to his brother or himself... which was totally normal and not weird at all.

Seven more days. Seven long, miserable days. He just had to keep it together until then.

.
.
.

It didn’t take long for the small group to leave the house, thanks to Veneziano’s persistence, and start doing things that were more vacation-like. They roamed the city for a while, before the younger Italian dragged them to their first stop, the Reichstag Building.

It was a nice-looking building with a neoclassical design and a modern glass dome, but honestly, that was the only thing that caught Romano’s interest. Once his brother asked Germany about its historical significance and the German started practically giving a lecture on its history, with Prussia adding his own bits, Romano quickly got bored.

Thankfully, they didn’t stay there for too long and moved on to their next stop, which was some kind of TV building with supposedly an amazing view. The Southern nation didn’t think it was anything special though, probably because he’d seen far prettier views before. Plus, it was freezing up there, and he nearly froze his ass off.

From there, they moved on to some other place, but the Italian honestly couldn’t remember the name. At that point, everything had started to blur together, and Romano had long since stopped trying to keep track of where they were going.

After more walking and even more sightseeing, the group stopped at an art museum near some restaurants, where they decided to grab a bite to eat once they finished touring. The Italian couldn’t have been more relieved—he was starving. Those two cannolis hadn’t come close to filling him up, and he was certain he’d collapse if he didn’t eat something substantial soon.

Romano’s face contorted in a grimace as his stomach twisted painfully again, but he ignored the sensation and stepped into the museum, trying to distract himself. He glanced at the polished marble floor beneath him, then at the hallway ahead, lined with paintings. Honestly, it was quite nice. The museum’s cool, quiet atmosphere was a welcome change from the noisy streets and constant movement. Plus, the fact that it was an art museum made it even better. As an artist, seeing art was always a delight for him.

Despite his physical exertion, Romano couldn’t help but feel a bit more relaxed. He heard the others talking behind him, but he didn’t bother to wait for them. Instead, he made his way toward the exhibit. He pulled off his gloves, shoving them into the pockets of his coat, and blew warm air onto his numb fingers. They felt like two frozen ice cubes, stiff and painfully cold. He couldn't fathom how the people here managed to walk around without getting frostbite or hypothermia or both.

"Cold ass country..." the Italian muttered under his breath, rubbing his hands together before shoving them into his pockets. He exhaled sharply, then shifted his focus to the paintings on the wall. There were plenty of old pieces, but also some contemporary works. While he wasn’t exactly a fan of the modern painting techniques, he still appreciated seeing what people had created.

Romano wandered through the museum for a while, momentarily forgetting how utterly miserable his life felt at the moment. Instead, he focused on the art around him, letting it offer him a brief escape from his troubles.

He stopped in front of a large oil painting, which looked fairly recent. It depicted a woman clinging desperately to a broken lyre, her face streaked with tears, while another woman tried to pull her away. The brushstrokes were simple, lacking intricate details, but the meaning behind the artwork was hard to miss. It symbolized heartbreak and the difficulty of letting go. Romano didn’t personally relate to it, but he could appreciate the emotion behind it.

Well...

That was the thing about art. It captured feelings in a way words never could, and he loved that. Words had never been his strong suit. He was awful at using them, especially when it mattered most. They were unreliable, messy, and difficult to force out. But art? Art was raw. Art was honest. It flowed, speaking without needing to be spoken, expressing what words so often failed to. A single stroke of paint could say more than a thousand clumsy sentences ever could. With art, there was no struggle to find the right words, because it didn’t need them.

The Italian rested his hand on the painting's metal label, lightly tracing the engraved letters. "1956, huh..." he murmured under his breath, his gaze shifting between the artwork and its inscription. "A good year for art."

His brother would probably love this piece. Veneziano had always been drawn to sentimental artwork, so there was no doubt about it. In that regard, Romano had to admit they were alike. He had a weakness for emotional art as well.

On the rare occasions they visited art galleries together, they’d get so engrossed in discussing the meanings behind paintings and the techniques used to paint said paintings that they’d completely lose track of time. It always ended with them being kicked out by security for staying past closing hours. Romano felt a small smile tug at the corner of his lips at the memory, and without thinking, he instinctively turned his head, scanning the room for his brother. However, the moment he spotted him, his smile immediately fell.

Veneziano was further away, clinging onto Germany’s arm, chatting enthusiastically about what seemed to be a sculpture while the blonde simply nodded along. Romano’s expression darkened, and he turned away with a scowl, crossing his arms in irritation. Of course, his brother was with that dumb bastard. Why wouldn’t he be?!

Ugh!

It infuriated him how Germany was always hogging Veneziano. Romano wanted to spend time with him—quality time—as family. They were on vacation together, after all, so doing things as a family should’ve been a given. But no, the damn potato-eating bastard had to get in the way. Didn’t he have his own brother to talk to? Why the hell did he have to steal his?!

His good mood had completely vanished and he was now annoyed again, angry even, and it was all that stupid German's fault.

Romano had half a mind to just storm off, leave without a word, and disappear into the city, somewhere far away where no one could ever find him. There, he could wallow in self-pity to his heart’s content while his little brother worried, wandering where he had gone. Maybe that way, Veneziano could finally see just how much misery Germany caused Romano and the unbearable torment he put him through. Maybe then, the Northern nation would finally come to his senses, realize that Germany was not an ideal partner, and dump the bastard once and for all, for both Romano’s sake and his own.

How great would that be... But, of course, it was nothing more than a pitiful wish. the Southern nation wasn’t bold enough to actually go through with such a plan. First of all, he had no desire to get lost in a foreign country, and second, he knew that no matter what he did, his brother wouldn’t leave the Western nation unless the bastard committed some truly unforgivable crime. And even then, Romano wasn’t convinced it would be enough. Veneziano loved that damn German way too much, and the Southern nation was certain his brother would stick with him even if the bastard broke his heart. The mere thought of it made his blood boil.

So instead of doing anything, the dark-haired man did what he did best—sulked. He crossed his arms, clenched his jaw and narrowed his eyes into a bitter glare, staring furiously at the floor. He was so lost in his own thoughts that he failed to notice someone creeping up beside him. Before he could react, a cold hand suddenly covered his eyes, and a rough, ear-scratching voice spoke from behind him, nearly making him trip over his own two feet.

"Guess who?" the 'stranger' asked in an irritatingly lively tone, and in that moment, the Italian felt the air leave his lungs—not because some weirdo was clinging to him like a total creep, but because that weirdo was the last person he wanted to see right now.

Romano didn’t even need to turn around to guess who it was, because only one person in the entire world had that aggravatingly smug, unruly voice.

Prussia.

The weirdo, the creep, the unbearably obnoxious guy who had nearly given him two strokes in a single day and the one he was supposed to avoid to prevent a third.

The realization infuriated him so much that he completely forgot about his brother and Germany, his anger now redirected at the ex-nation. Romano was sure he was on the verge of bursting a blood vessel.

Without a word, the dark brunette grabbed the intruder's hand, his nails digging into the pale skin as he tore it away from his face with such force that his wrists let out a faint popping sound. Not even waiting a second, he spun around, fixing the albino with the most furious glare he could muster.

However, the red-eyed man barely registered his glare, too focused on massaging his injured hand. His face twisted slightly in pain, yet his grin remained intact. "Man, you really aren’t the touchy type." Prussia joked, shaking out his hand and glancing at Romano with a half-amused expression.

Romano glared at the German, his usual angry scowl firmly in place. There wasn’t even a hint of amusement in his expression, if anything, he was burning with rage, like a fire stoked with gasoline. The last person he wanted to deal with was Prussia, yet here he was, pushing Romano’s patience to the limit.

Did Prussia have no sense of decency whatsoever? How could the bastard invade his space so casually and speak to him as if they were friends? They weren’t. In fact, they were the furthest thing from it. And yet, the albino continued to pester him relentlessly. Romano despised him, especially after everything that had happened in the last few hours. He really, REALLY hated him.

What did Prussia even want from him? Why was it that every time Romano was alone, the bastard had to appear and fuck everything up for the Southern nation?

The Italian's hands clenched into fists, his teeth grinding as his irritation grew. He'd never wanted to kill someone so badly before.

No. Calm thoughts Romano. The man told himself, taking in a deep breath and forcing himself to relax. He wasn’t supposed to engage with the enemy. He’d managed to ignore the bastard until now, so he wasn’t about to break that streak now. He needed to keep a clear mind and do the smart thing, which was to retreat.

Straightening up, the dark-haired brunette brushed off his coat, lifted his chin, and turned away, determined to walk away like the mature adult that he was. However, his plan was abruptly interrupted by the heavy thud of footsteps behind him and a sudden rush of wind at his side, before Prussia appeared in front of him, arms slightly spread to block his path.

"Is it an Italian thing to walk away mid conversation?" the albino asked, tilting his head with a lopsided grin. "Cause somehow every time I try to talk to you, you leave me hanging."

Maybe because every time you talk to me, I end up losing another year out of my life! The dark brunette seethed internally, pressing his lips into a thin line. His scowl only deepened as he stared at the man before him, biting his tongue to keep himself from cursing him out. Romano had to remind himself that he was in a public space, and that screaming his lungs off wasn’t exactly an option. So instead, he swallowed his frustration and shut his eyes.

Just ignore him. Just ignore him. Just ignore him. South Italy silently repeated to himself, then opened his eyes and spun around. Without a second thought, he picked up his pace, striding in the opposite direction, desperate to put distance between himself and the former nation. But, as always, luck wasn’t on his side. Within moments, he heard footsteps again, only this time louder, and before he could react, a hand grabbed his arm, tugging him back and halting him in his hurried escape.

"Hey, hold on a second!" the German's raspy voice called out, a bit too loud, causing it to echo through the museum's exhibit.

Oh my God.

Romano's eyes widened slightly, and he quickly turned his head, only to find himself face to face with the Eastern ex-nation, who was gripping his arm a little too tightly. The Italian blinked, glancing from the hand on his arm to the albino's face, disbelief coloring his features.

This was it. This was Romano's last straw.

There was no way he could stay composed now, not with an idiot who couldn’t take a hint and had the nerve to grab him again.

"Oh mio maledetto Dio. (Oh my fucking God.)" the Southern nation muttered in one breath, watching Prussia's expression shift to one of confusion. The albino looked ready to say something, but the Italian, consumed by rage, didn’t let him. He kicked him in the leg, cutting off his words before they could leave his mouth.

The white-haired German instantly released the dark brunette, doubling over with a pained groan. "Scheiße! (Shit!)" he cursed through clenched teeth, gripping his knee, feeling as if his kneecap had just been knocked out of place. However, the Italian wasn’t about to let him dwell on the pain. In an instant, Romano grabbed him by the fabric of his jacket, yanking him by the arm and shaking him furiously.

"Cosa vuole da me?! Perchè continui a seguirmi?! Cos'hai che non va?! (What do you want from me?! Why do you keep following me?! What's wrong with you?!)" he yelled, completely abandoning any attempt at keeping his composure. In his anger, he also forgot that Prussia couldn’t actually understand him.

The German looked slightly rattled by Romano’s relentless shaking, letting out a hiss that the nation could only assume was from pain, but Romano didn’t care. He was far too angry to stop. "What do you want, you stupid jerk?!"

At that, the albino finally seemed to snap out of his pained daze, lifting his head to meet the Southern nation's glare. His brows knitted together slightly before he raised a hand in surrender. "Mein Gott... Beruhige dich. (My God... Chill out.)" he said, his voice unsteady.

Romano, however, did not stop. If anything, he gripped Prussia's jacket even tighter, his knuckles turning white. "I swear to Dio, if you don't spit something out except shitty german words I will murder you with my bare hands!"

"I was just—ow, okay, okay, stop that!" the red-eyed man exclaimed, seeming genuinely irritated by the Italian's abuse. In one swift motion, he straightened up and pried Romano off him. "Gott..." he muttered under his breath, his face contorting in discomfort as he smoothed out his rumpled jacket.

South Italy shot the other man a sharp frown, crossing his arms and stomping his foot in pure irritation. "Come on, answer already!" he demanded. "I didn’t hit you in the face, so your mouth's fine! Talk!"

At that, Prussia paused midway through fixing his jacket and turned to look at Romano. But instead of the usual cocky or smug expression he always wore, his red eyes narrowed slightly, and his lips pressed into a thin line—an almost angry look. For a split second, the sight nearly made Romano feel bad. But Prussia didn’t snap, didn’t lash out, or show any real sign of anger. He simply took a breath, shook his head, and muttered, "What stick got shoved up your ass today?" after a brief pause, he shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot, grimacing. "Jesus."

South Italy's glare only intensified at the other's words, his annoyance growing. He was just about to snap back, but Prussia didn’t give him the chance, cutting him off before he could even get a word out.

"I just wanted to give you this." the albino admitted, his tone laced with bitterness as he lifted a small plastic bag bearing a grocery store logo—something Romano hadn’t noticed before, likely too blinded by his anger. The taller man pulled the bag closer and began rummaging through its contents.

The Italian narrowed his eyes in suspicion, glancing between the bag and Prussia. What the hell could he possibly want to give him, especially from a grocery store? Luckily, he didn’t have to wonder for long. In the blink of an eye, the Germanic nation pulled something from the bag and shoved it against Romano’s chest with a bit more force than necessary, catching him slightly off guard.

The Southern nation barely managed to catch the object, nearly dropping it. His brows furrowed as he glanced down, eyes squinting in confusion as he tried to make sense of what he was holding. To his surprise—or rather, his growing confusion—he found himself staring at a chocolate bar. And not just any chocolate bar, but a Belgian-branded one at that.

South Italy stared at the sweet in bewilderment, blinking a few times before lifting his gaze back to Prussia "What is this?"

The former nation cast a brief glance at him, then at the chocolate bar in his hands, raising an eyebrow at Romano's confusion. "Chocolate?"

"No, I know it's chocolate!" Romano snapped. "I'm not stupid." he added, rolling his eyes before exhaling in frustration. "What I meant is—why?" he eyed the other man suspiciously. "Why are you giving me this?"

At that, Prussia’s irritation vanished almost instantly, replaced by an expression Romano couldn’t quite read. It was unlike his usual cocky demeanor—something softer, almost like concern... The Italian wasn't sure what to make of it.

Without a word, the German stepped beside Romano, his gaze shifting to the painting the brunette had been observing just moments earlier. The Southern nation followed his movements, turning back to look at the artwork as well.

Romano had no clue what the hell was going on, but he knew one thing—Prussia was acting strange. Stranger than usual. And that was saying something, considering the German was always weird. But normally, he was weird in a loud kind of way, making bad jokes and doing questionable things. But this? This was a different kind of weird. A quiet, unsettling weird. And it was making Romano uneasy. He felt like something bad was about to happen any moment now.

South Italy cast a few wary glances at the former nation, irritated by his silence. He wanted to snap at him, demanding he speak, but for some reason, the words caught in his throat, leaving him feeling unexpectedly awkward. So instead, he just waited.

After what felt like an eternity, Prussia finally spoke again. “I don’t know why, but you’re…” he trailed off, seemingly searching for the right words. “… jumpier than usual and just overall more irritable.” as he spoke, he turned his head toward Romano, who was already staring back at him, his expression a mix of slight alarm and frustration. Noticing this, the former nation quickly added, “Eh, And I just thought some chocolate might cheer you up since you like sweets and all…”

South Italy just stared at him, feeling deeply conflicted. Okay, so there was no doubt about it now—Prussia was onto him. He clearly knew something was wrong, yet instead of prying, he was trying to cheer him up…?

What?

Romano blinked, forcing himself to repeat that thought because it made absolutely no sense. Prussia was trying to cheer him up? He had gone out of his way to buy him chocolate—Belgian branded, his favorite—just to make him feel better?

Huh?!

Romano’s grip tightened around the chocolate bar as he stared at Prussia, his expression caught somewhere between bewilderment and irritation.

This didn’t make sense.

Prussia wasn’t the type to do nice things for people, especially not for him. And yet, here he was, being... nice. Well, sort of. To Romano, of all people. Something was definitely off. There was no way this was just a simple act of generosity. There had to be a catch. Prussia was probably just trying to squeeze information out of him, using fake kindness to make him let his guard down, only to humiliate him later. Yeah, that had to be it. Because why else would Prussia do something like this?

Swallowing dryly, the hazel-eyed man lifted his gaze to meet the other's crimson eyes, searching for any hint of deceit, any sign that the German had ulterior motives. But he found nothing. The former nation simply held his stare before breaking into a small smile, one that seemed almost too genuine.

Aghh! What the hell??

Romano quickly turned his head back around, focusing on the painting, or at least trying to. His mind was too cluttered with thoughts, making it hard to truly see it. No matter how much he tried, he just couldn’t understand the albino, and it was driving him crazy.

South Italy felt like he should say something, but he had no idea what. His thoughts were a jumbled mess. Lowering his gaze to the chocolate bar in his hands, he absentmindedly studied the brand before blurting out the first thing that came to mind. "I only eat Belgian chocolate..." he muttered softly, which was ridiculous, considering the chocolate he was holding was, in fact, Belgian.

Hearing that, the ex-nation seemed to perk up. "I know! That's why I bought you this brand in specific!" he exclaimed, looking rather pleased with himself.

Prussia knew? What was that even supposed to mean? Why would he even bother noticing something like that? It made no sense.

The dark brunette's brows knitted together, his gaze flickering back up to the albino, who was still grinning like an idiot—proud, satisfied even, like he had just done something incredibly clever.

Romano felt his heartbeat pick up, and not in a good way. He didn’t like this. This gesture, this weird niceness, everything about this actually. His mouth opened slightly, but no words came out. What was he even supposed to say? Thanks? No. Absolutely not.

Instead, he scowled and in one quick motion abruptly shoved the chocolate back into Prussia’s hands. "I don’t want it." he muttered, voice tense, almost like he was forcing the words out.

Prussia blinked, startled. "Huh?"

"I don’t want it!" Romano repeated, more firmly this time, as if saying it with more conviction would somehow make everything make sense. "Go eat it yourself. I’m going to find my brother." and with that, he turned on his heel and walked off, fast, not sparing the German a second glance.

Prussia stood frozen in place, his gaze fixed on Romano, watching as he strode toward Germany and Veneziano and seized the younger Italian, before hauling him off to a secluded corner of the exhibit, away from everyone and everything.

The former nation was utterly baffled. Confused didn’t even come close to describing how lost he felt in that moment. His eyes flickered between the rejected chocolate in his hands to the two Italians, who were whispering to each other, and he couldn't help the frown that settled across his features. He couldn’t understand where he had gone wrong.

Sure, maybe grabbing Romano twice hadn’t been the smartest move—his aching knee and sore arm were proof of that—but aside from that, he’d been nice. Really nice, actually. He hadn’t insulted him, mocked him, or done anything that should’ve made the Italian react so... aggressively? Offended? Angry? He couldn’t even put a word to Romano's behavior.

Prussia had bought the chocolate as a subtle way to apologize to the older Italian for being too pushy when they’d bumped into each other in the kitchen. He had assumed that was the reason the Southern nation was in a worse mood than usual—because he was angry with him, which would explain the older Italian’s strange behavior that morning.

The former nation had honestly thought that giving the Southern nation his favorite chocolate brand would help smooth things over, not necessarily fix everything, but at least make Romano less grumpy.

But nope. Apparently, not.

Romano had reacted poorly, and now he was likely even more irritated with Prussia than before.

The white-haired man sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. This was starting to piss him off.

Having the Italy brothers over wasn't nearly as fun as he had expected. When his younger brother first told him that Veneziano and Romano would be spending the week with them, he’d been ecstatic—he really liked the duo, and they were always fun to be around. But things weren’t going the way he had hoped.

Veneziano spent most of his time either fussing over Romano or sticking to West like glue, leaving Prussia struggling to get a word in. Whenever he did manage to, the younger Italian always seemed distracted, as if his mind was somewhere else. It was hard not to feel left out.

Romano, on the other hand, was even more irritable than usual. Sure, he had always been a bit short-tempered, but this was different. In the past, Prussia could tease him and at least get an entertaining reaction out of him. Now, his annoyance was cranked up to a thousand, and there was nothing fun about it anymore.

Prussia was starting to suspect that something had happened, something bad, but he had no idea what.

...

Maybe it had to do with whatever Romano had hidden from him in the kitchen…

The red-eyed man furrowed his brows, struggling to make sense of everything. However, before he could get lost in his thoughts, a familiar voice called out to him.

"What was that about?"

Upon hearing that, Prussia slightly turned his head, meeting his brother’s questioning gaze. He must have walked over while the ex-nation was too caught up in his thoughts to notice.

The older German simply shook his head then let out an irritated huff. "Hell if I know, West. I was just trying to be nice for once, and all I got in return was physical abuse and whatever the hell that was!"

At that, Germany shot the older nation a pointed look, one that clearly showed he was placing the blame on him. "What did you do?"

"Nothing!" Prussia exclaimed, a hint of offense in his voice. "I gave Romano chocolate and he blew up in my face!" he held up the chocolate bar for Germany to see, who examined it for a moment before looking back at him with a puzzled expression.

"Why?"

"Because he’s been pissed off all day, and as much as I enjoy it when he bites back, this time it feels like he’s genuinely upset or something!" the white-haired man said, tearing open the chocolate bar and taking a large bite out of it. He wasn’t about to let good chocolate go to waste "And I don’t know about you, but I’m not a fan of having my good time ruined by someone’s prissy attitude."

His younger brother looked away, seemingly processing his words. "Now that you mention it... Italy has been acting a bit strange lately too." the blonde admitted, prompting a raised eyebrow from the older German. "He's been more... jittery than usual, if that makes sense."

Prussia shot his younger brother a confused look before his expression shifted to amusement. He nudged him lightly with his elbow and smirked. "Now what did YOU do?"

Germany simply frowned, clearly unimpressed. "I don't think this has anything to do with me." he said, giving the red-eyed man a blank stare before sighing. "At least, I hope not..." he added bitterly, his expression clouded with discomfort. "Anyway, I’m not sure how to explain it, but I feel like something’s bothering him. Usually, he talks to me when there’s a problem, but this time, he doesn’t seem to want to open up... and it’s making me worry."

Prussia hummed in response, finishing off the chocolate bar and stuffing the wrapper into his pocket. "Huh, yeah, that doesn’t really sound like little Italy." he remarked. "He’s never been one to keep things to himself. The second something’s wrong, he usually spills his guts out."

"Exactly." the blonde agreed, his voice carrying a hint of urgency. "He's been doing things that are just so... out of the ordinary for him. Like planning. He never plans. He always says he just likes to 'go with the flow.'" his brows knitted together as he spoke. "But this time, he planned the entire trip down to the last detail. And for some reason, he chose the most exhausting activities." his expression twisted in confusion. "Like, after dinner, he suggested we go hiking. And no, he didn’t mean a casual walk through a park, he meant actual hiking. He even showed me the trail, and it was the longest one. Since when has Italy ever wanted to go hiking after dinner?" he looked at the older German in pure disbelief. "Never."

"Uh." Prussia blinked at the younger nation, his expression shifting to mild surprise. He had never seen him ramble on for this long, or ramble at all, for that matter. Guess that old saying about love making people crazy really was true.

Noticing the older nation’s expression, Germany quickly composed himself, slipping back into his usual serious demeanor. "Entschuldigung. (Sorry.)" he muttered, clearing his throat awkwardly. "I got a little carried away."

"Es ist in Ordnung. (It's fine.)" the former nation said, waving a dismissive hand. "But I gotta admit, that is strange." he added, narrowing his eyes in thought. "Italy isn’t the sporty type... not even a little."

"Ja, I know."

"Hmm..." Prussia murmured, tilting his head. "Are you sure he’s not just trying to work out or something?" he smirked. "You know, put some meat on those bones of his." he let out a laugh, but Germany didn’t respond. The blonde simply stared at him with a blank expression, making it clear he didn’t find the joke amusing.

The albino's laughter faltered. "Uh... guess not." he muttered.

He shifted awkwardly before clearing his throat, trying to ease the growing tension in the air. Damn, West really didn’t mess around when it came to the Northern nation. Still, he had to admit that Germany had a point. Now that he actually stopped to think about it, both of the Italy brothers had been acting odd. But the question was why? What was going on with them?

The albino stayed quiet for a moment, trying to think of anything that could be troubling his favorite Italians, but nothing came to mind. Their economy was thriving, their leaders weren’t overworking them, and tourism in Italy was booming. So, he genuinely had no idea what could be bothering them.

He remained in that stance for a moment longer before snapping his fingers. "This is a case of double trouble!" he declared, attempting to sound serious, though a small grin tugged at his lips. "And I’m going to crack it!" he exclaimed, a determined look settling on his face.

His younger brother, however, didn’t seem to approve of his idea, quickly shaking his head. "You're not cracking anything," he said firmly. "The last thing I want is some petty conflict because you can’t stay out of their business."

The words made Prussia visibly deflate. "If there really is a problem with them and Italy doesn’t want to tell me, I’m sure it’s for a good reason." Germany said, though he didn’t seem entirely convinced by his own words. "The smart thing to do is leave them be and let them handle whatever they’re dealing with themselves." he added, looking at the Prussian with a serious expression. "No interventions."

"Are you seriously doubting my awesome problem-solving skills?" the white-haired man asked, pretending to be shocked.

"Yes. Yes I am." Germany replied simply, letting out a sigh. "This isn't a war or a battle you can win by wielding a sword or by being the best. It's something else entirely." he explained, his tone firm. His blue eyes locked onto the older nation as he continued. "It's probably personal." his gaze remained on Prussia. "And those are the hardest battles to fight, especially if you're not used to them." he pointed a finger at the white-haired man, almost like a warning. "Most of the time, they're meant to be fought alone. So don't do anything that might make this worse."

The former nation frowned, feeling as though his fun had been spoiled before it even began. "Didn’t know you were a poet, West."

Hearing that, the Germanic nation shot him a look of disbelief. "Are you serious?" he exclaimed. "Did you even listen to a single word I just said?"

"Ja, Ja." Prussia responded, rolling his eyes. "Don't get involved, I got it." he sighed, crossing his arms. "No need to worry. I won’t do anything to upset your precious little Italy."

Fine. He supposed he wouldn’t go out of his way to push the Northern nation's buttons. He didn’t particularly want West mad at him. But… that didn’t exactly apply to the other half of Italy. West was probably only worried about Veneziano, given that they were lovers and all, which meant he wouldn’t be paying much attention to Romano. Sooo, Prussia could try his luck with the Southern nation. He he he.

Maybe if he figured out what was bothering Romano, he could fix it with his great wisdom and superior problem-solving skills. He’d blow the Italian’s mind with how effortlessly he could resolve whatever issue was making him so grumpy. And then Romano might finally stop being such a sour lemon and sweeten up a little.

Maybe he’d even be so grateful that he’d finally admit how awesome Prussia really was.

And, if Prussia played his cards right, maybe—just maybe—Romano would actually warm up to him. Not in a full-blown, starry-eyed admiration kind of way (though that would be nice), but at least enough to stop treating him like he hated his guts.

Now that would be a victory worth bragging about.

The younger German seemed to relax at those words, letting out a relieved sigh. "Gut. (Good.)" he muttered, falling silent for a moment. The albino took that as his cue to leave and did just that, casually placing his hands behind his head as he prepared to walk away. However, before he could take his first step, Germany suddenly spoke again, as if adding an afterthought.

“And..."

Hearing that, the red-eyed man halted in his tracks and turned his attention back to his younger brother. "And what?"

"Don't go annoying Romano either."

Oh, come on. Prussia had assumed Germany wouldn’t care about the older Italian. Why did he have to be such a killjoy? He was ruining his chances of getting along with the Southern nation.

"Ugh. Get out of my head." the former nation groaned, letting out a frustrated huff.

"I'm serious," the other man said. "He can barely tolerate us as it is… don't give him a reason to declare war on our country."

"You worry too much, West." Prussia said, raising his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, I won’t bother him. Happy now?"

Germany studied him for a moment, clearly skeptical, but eventually just nodded. "Alright."

That was all Prussia needed to hear before his usual grin returned. Not that he actually planned on listening. Like hell he was going to leave Romano alone. Italy was one thing, but Germany had no say over the Southern nation. Romano wasn’t his responsibility, and Prussia wasn’t about to let anyone, least of all his younger brother, dictate how he interacted with him.

"Great, now that that's settled, I'm starving, so I'm going to grab something to eat." he declared. "I can't keep surviving on snacks." the man added, glancing down at the grocery bag hanging from his arm. With a shrug, he reached into it, pulled out a soda, and began drinking it greedily as though he hadn’t had a sip of anything in days, completely contradicting his earlier words.

Germany gave him a flat look before humming thoughtfully. "I think we should all eat something, it's getting late, and we've been on our feet all day." he remarked, pausing for a moment as if considering it. Then, he gave Prussia a light pat on the shoulder and began to walk off. "Stay here, I'll go grab Italy and Romano." With that, the blonde left, leaving the albino standing alone.

The former nation watched his younger sibling leave, blinking in confusion before his expression soured. "He tells me not to bother them, yet he jumps at the first opportunity to do exactly that." he muttered to himself, taking a loud sip of his soda. "How totally un-awesome."

On the other side of the museum, things were looking... better? Well, 'better' wasn’t exactly the right word, unless Veneziano trying to talk Romano out of either buying a plane ticket to go home or committing murder counted as an improvement.

"Come on, fratello!" Italy exclaimed, clasping his hands together as if praying, his eyes full of desperation. "Per favore, riconsidera! (Please, reconsider!)"

"No!" Romano shot back, snapping his head to the side and crossing his arms in frustration. "I hate it here! I want to go back to Rome!"

"Romanooo!" Veneziano whined, clinging to his arm, his eyes welling up as if he were about to burst into tears. "It hasn’t even been a whole day!"

Romano gritted his teeth, trying to shove the other half of Italy away. "Exactly! It hasn’t even been a full day, and i've already had the shittiest time ever!" he snapped, struggling to pry Veneziano off his arm. But the younger Italian only clung to him tighter. "I can already tell this entire week is going to be awful!"

Italy let out a dramatic cry, shaking his head furiously as if Romano had just said the most outrageous thing imaginable. "It’s not going to be awful!" he insisted, his voice nearly trembling. Then, with wide, almost disbelieving eyes, he turned to his older brother. "Did you seriously not like any of the places we visited today?!" he asked, sounding completely stunned.

"No!" Romano nearly shouted, still struggling to pry his younger brother off him. Though, if he was being honest, there were a few places he had liked, but that was a secret he’d take to the grave. "Damn it, Veneziano! Let go of me!"

"Nooo!" Italy wailed, desperately clinging to Romano like double-sided tape, refusing to let go despite the older man's relentless thrashing. "Avanti, fratello! (Come on, brother!)" he pleaded, dragging out the last word. "What happened? What made you change your mind so suddenly?!"

Romano stiffened at those words, his gaze locking onto his brother’s pleading eyes. For a moment, he actually considered telling him the real reason he was so desperate to go home.

But then it hit him—his reason was stupid.

What was he supposed to say? That Prussia had given him chocolate, and he’d completely freaked out because his gut told him the bastard was trying to figure him out just to make fun of him? God, it sounded pathetic. And yet, no matter how irrational it seemed, it was a genuine concern of Romano's.

"I just…" Romano began, his mind racing for an excuse. But nothing came. "I just…" he repeated, still grasping for words, feeling his chest tightening. His frown deepened, his hands balling into fists as his voice grew rough with irritation. "I just really hate Prussia!" he finally exclaimed.

"Prussia?" Veneziano's eyes widened in shock, his expression filled with confusion. "What does he have to do with anything?"

"He's annoying!" Romano hissed, taking advantage of Veneziano’s shock to finally break free. He yanked his arm out of his brother’s iron grip, nearly stumbling backward in the process.

Veneziano’s expression shifted from confusion to alarm as he stared at his older brother in disbelief. "Fratello, that—that’s not a good enough reason to want to go home!" he cried out, flailing his arms wildly.

"It is to me!" Romano shot back, crossing his arms, which only earned another dramatic cry from Veneziano.

"Romano..." Italy managed to choke out, his voice trembling as if he were on the verge of bursting into tears.

"Just shut up!" the Southern nation snarled. "This trip was a mistake, the biggest mistake i've ever made!"

As soon as he heard those words, Veneziano latched onto him again, frantically shaking his head. "No, no, no! Don’t say that!"

"Ugh! Damn you!" Romano hissed, completely ignoring his brother’s pleas as he struggled once again to break free. "Smettila di prendermi! (Stop grabbing me!)"

Unfortunately, Veneziano had a remarkable knack for being oblivious, especially when it came to recognizing when someone really didn’t want to be smothered in affection. Ignoring Romano’s protests entirely, he clung to him even tighter, unintentionally wrinkling the fabric of his nice coat.

"Fratello, I promise that by the end of today, you’ll sleep better than you ever have before!" Italy declared. However, his words did nothing to soothe Romano, if anything, they only irritated him more.

"Stop making promises you can’t keep, idiota!" South Italy snapped. "You said the exact same thing yesterday, and I haven’t gotten a single ounce of sleep since!"

"This is different!" Veneziano tried to argue. "Yesterday was just... you weren't tired enough...."

Romano almost laughed at that, because if there was one thing he was, it was tired. Ever since his insomnia started, he’d been bone-tired, never once resting properly. So for Veneziano to claim he just "wasn’t tired enough" had to be the dumbest thing he’d heard in years.

"I'm always fucking tired." the older Italian growled through gritted teeth, his scowl darkening.

The Northern nation fell silent at that, his distressed expression shifting into one of sadness. His hands dropped limply to his sides, finally releasing his grip on Romano, who wasted no time in pulling his hand back, keeping it close to himself, just in case the younger Italian got any ideas about grabbing him again.

"I... I know." Italy admitted quietly, fidgeting nervously with his hands. "I'm sorry." he muttered, lowering his head, his eyes fixed on the ground.

Romano watched him for a moment before letting out a heavy sigh. "Don’t apologize." he said. "It’s not your fault."

And it was true, none of this was Veneziano’s fault. Romano’s inability to sleep was entirely his own problem, and yet his brother still tried to help, even if it wasn’t really working. And what did Romano do in return? Act like a complete asshole, as usual.

Veneziano could have easily ignored all of this, gone about his day without a second thought. But he didn’t. He chose to help. He always chose to help.

Honestly, he wanted to help everyone. That was just the kind of person Italy was—kind, selfless, the type of person people naturally liked. No wonder everyone preferred him over Romano. Hell, Romano probably preferred him over himself too.

Italy slowly nodded, remaining silent for a moment before finally speaking. "I tried to fit in as many exhausting activities as possible today... to tire you out." he admitted, lightly kicking at the carpet as if to distract himself. "I heard that a lot of physical exertion can make someone fall asleep instantly… that’s why I insisted we walk everywhere all day." the man confessed, his voice tinged with something close to guilt. "I even planned for us to go hiking after this." he gestured vaguely toward the museum, finally lifting his eyes to meet Romano’s. "I picked the hardest, longest trail I could find, thinking that maybe it would help you sleep." a weak, almost apologetic smile flickered across his face before vanishing just as quickly. "But… I understand if you want to go home."

The Southern nation bit the inside of his cheek, mentally cursing himself. Once again, he had managed to be absolutely awful to the one person who genuinely cared about his well-being. He could blame it on stress again, but was that really an excuse? Could he really keep justifying his harshness toward his younger brother, who did nothing but try to help him?

No. Probably not.

"I hate hiking." Romano suddenly blurted out, earning a slightly puzzled look from his brother. He hesitated for a moment before sighing and adding. "This better help me sleep, or I swear I’ll be really pissed off."

Veneziano blinked at his words, his expression clouded with confusion. For a moment, he didn’t seem to grasp what Romano was implying. But then, realization dawned on him, and his eyes widened slightly. "Wait… you’re staying?"

"What does it look like?" the dark-haired brunette replied, rolling his eyes, though his tone lacked any real sharpness.

He had expected Veneziano to flash his usual wide grin and bounce excitedly as he always did when things went his way. But this time, the brown-eyed man did none of that. Instead, he offered a faint smile, his expression flooded with relief.

"Grazie, fratello." he murmured, his voice quieter than usual, yet filled with undeniable sincerity. Placing a hand over his heart, as if swearing an oath, he looked at Romano with an expression of slight determination. "Everything will work out in the end... you'll see."

The hazel-eyed man studied his younger brother, wanting to believe his words but finding it difficult to do so. After a moment, he exhaled softly. "Spero. (I hope.)"

For a few moments, they remained in silence, neither speaking nor moving. The stillness was almost comforting, until a sudden, loud "Ahem" shattered it. Both men jolted in surprise, quickly turning around at the same time. To their surprise, Germany stood behind them, as stiff and formal as ever.

Romano's stomach twisted. How long had he been standing there? Had he heard anything? His conversation with Veneziano hadn’t exactly been meant for outside ears, and the thought of Germany knowing even a fraction of it made his skin crawl.

Judging by the way Italy suddenly tensed beside him, he was thinking the exact same thing.

"G-Germany!" the younger Italian quickly blurted out, his voice a little too high-pitched to sound casual. "What, uh, what are you doing here?"

Germany raised an eyebrow at Veneziano’s sudden outburst, his sharp blue eyes flicking between the two of them. Romano swallowed hard, trying to keep his expression neutral, but his fingers twitched at his sides.

After a brief pause, the blonde let out a small sigh, crossing his arms. "I came to get you both so we can have dinner. We’re all hungry, and it’s getting late." he stated plainly.

Veneziano brightened at that, though the nervousness in his expression remained. “Ah, how nice of you, Germany!” he exclaimed, flashing a cheerful smile and clasping his hands together. “I really am starving, and I’m sure Romano is too!”

The hazel-eyes man shot his brother a quick glare before turning back to the Germanic nation, forcing out a strained. "Right.”

A beat of silence followed before Veneziano, shifting slightly on his feet, tilted his head. “Uh quick question,” he murmured, glancing sheepishly at his lover. “Just to be clear… how long have you been standing there?” he tried to sound casual, but the way his voice wavered betrayed him.

Germany gave him a skeptical look, his brow slightly furrowing as he studied Veneziano’s odd demeanor. “…I just got here.” his tone was flat, his confusion evident.

At his response, Veneziano’s shoulders immediately loosened, and his worried expression melted into one of pure delight. Without hesitation, he latched onto Germany’s arm, beaming. “Germany, you’re great, you know that?”

Germany blinked at the sudden shift, still looking somewhat skeptical, but as Veneziano clung to him, his expression softened just slightly, a faint fondness creeping in.

Romano, meanwhile, let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, the tension draining from his body. Good. Germany was still as oblivious as always.

He tuned out as the two lovers started talking, their conversation quickly turning into background noise. He wasn’t really listening—just letting their voices fill the silence as his mind wandered.

That is, until Veneziano suddenly turned to him. “Come on, Romano! Let’s go get Prussia so we can eat!”

Romano groaned but followed nonetheless as they made their way through the museum. When they finally found Prussia, the albino was, unsurprisingly, up to no good, toying with an old sculpture like the immature, cultureless idiot he was.

However, that wasn’t what truly irritated him. What bothered him the most was the lingering sensation of the former nation’s piercing red eyes locked onto him as they left the museum. The intensity was unnerving, disturbing him in a way he hadn’t even thought possible. He tried to shake it off, but it was impossible to do so. Damn that bastard! What was his deal? He had never been this persistent before. Annoying? Yes. But never this persistent.

Romano felt like the protagonist of a horror movie, and Prussia was the villain, the type who stalked his target with a chainsaw, hell-bent on revenge. But there was just one problem with that scenario. Romano hadn’t done anything to deserve revenge. At least, he didn’t think he had... Or had he?

Had the ex-nation really gotten mad just because Romano refused to accept his... his damn chocolate?! No, that was ridiculous. He was overthinking things again. No one in their right mind would get pissed over something that stupid.

...

Then again, this was Prussia Romano was talking about.

The Southern nation hesitantly stole a glance at the albino, trying to see if he was mad. However, he instantly regretted it when he realized the other man was already looking at him. As their eyes met, the German gave a small wave and grinned, making Romano abruptly snap his head away.

Well... at least he didn't seem upset.

Still, something about him felt off. Romano didn’t know what the Prussian was up to, but whatever it was, he didn’t like it.

With that thought in mind, he wrapped his arms around himself, trying to soothe his racing mind and frayed nerves.

Chapter Text

There were many things Romano hated in life. For example: working, eating bad food, dealing with people he couldn't stand (cough, cough Germany), and the list went on. In fact, he probably hated more things than he liked. But never, not once in his life, had he loathed anything as much as he did now.

And what, you ask, had managed to earn the top spot on his ever-growing list of things he despised?

Hiking.

H-I-K-I-N-G.

From the depths of his stone-cold heart, Romano could say with absolute certainty that hiking was, without a doubt, the dumbest, most horrible thing to have ever been invented.

Whoever came up with the idea of walking uphill for fun deserved a special place in hell.

Why was Romano even complaining about hiking? Oh, right! Because he was doing it himself.

How had he ended up in this situation again? Ah, yes. Veneziano.

After dinner, the younger Italian had insisted they go through with his hiking plans—despite it being late and everyone, himself included, feeling exhausted. Germany had hesitated at first, but a bit of pleading (and some dramatic tears from Veneziano) quickly swayed him.

Prussia, on the other hand, had agreed without a second thought, boasting about how awesome he was and how he could finish the entire trail without breaking a sweat.

As for Romano, he had reluctantly went along with it, partly because he had already promised his brother and didn’t like going back on his word, and partly because, even though he doubted it would work, he wanted to believe that an intense workout might actually help him sleep.

So, without further complaints, they had returned to Germany’s house, grabbed his car, and driven to the trail Veneziano had chosen, which, unsurprisingly, was both the farthest away and the most difficult.

Which brought Romano to now.

The Southern nation exhaled sharply, his breath turning to mist in the frigid air as he forced himself to keep walking, practically dragging his legs over the rocky ground. They had been climbing this damned mountain—whose name the Italian didn’t even know—for what felt like hours. Hours of pure, agonizing torture.

Or at least, that’s what it felt like to him. His phone had died some time ago, and without it, he had completely lost track of time. Had it been one hour? Two? More? He had no way of knowing.

What made things worse was that the sun had already set when they had started this miserable hike. So, Romano couldn’t even tell if it was still evening or if it was late into the night. Though, judging by the biting cold, he had a strong feeling it was the latter.

And God, was it cold. Absolutely, unbearably cold.

Colder than it had been in the morning. Colder than it had been at lunch. Colder than anything before this. He had thought it'd been windy earlier when they had gone sightseeing, but now he wanted to take those words back, because compared to this, that had been nothing.

The Italian felt a shiver course through him as another gust of wind struck him in the face, making his teeth chatter and goosebumps to form on his skin.

Damn this country!

Romano should never have agreed to this stupid hike. He just wasn’t made for this. Not one bit.

He had already been exhausted before they even started, thanks to his lack of sleep. But now? After walking for what felt like an eternity? He was literally dead. Completely and utterly dead, both inside and out. His muscles ached, his head throbbed, and every step he took felt like he was walking barefoot on broken glass.

Romano wasn’t sure what death was supposed to feel like, but he was pretty sure this had to be it.

The hazel-eyed man drew in a sharp breath, his lungs burning with the effort, before exhaling in a shaky, deflated sigh. Well… at least this whole hiking thing was actually working to tire him out, since that was the whole point of it anyway. Who knew? Maybe once he got home, he’d be so exhausted that his body and mind would have no choice but to let him sleep, if only to keep him alive. Yeah, that’d be nice.

That thought alone made everything feel a little more bearable. It was enough to push him forward, to keep him from collapsing onto the ground like he so desperately wanted to. That, and the fact that they were almost at trail's first checkpoint, which meant he’d finally get to sit down.

South Italy kept his gaze lowered, watching his feet drag across the uneven dirt. Eventually, he forced himself to look up, or rather, to the side, where Veneziano should have been (keyword: 'should've').

His brother had been walking beside him earlier, but now he had fallen behind, looking like he was having the worst time of his life. The poor nation was breathing heavily, as if there wasn't enough oxygen in the air, and his expression was twisted in pain.

Romano wanted to feel bad for his sibling. After all, Italy was going through all of this for his sake, despite despising anything related to training or sports, well... except for football. But no matter how much he tried, the older Italian just couldn’t bring himself to pity him.

He was in the same boat as Veneziano, suffering just as much—if not more—and frankly, he needed to pity himself first. Besides, he had never been good at offering comfort, and right now, he didn’t even have the energy to string together more than a single sentence.

They walked in silence for a few more minutes, the Southern nation concentrating on keeping himself on his feet, while the Northern one huffed and puffed behind him. However, when Romano noticed his brother growing quieter and quieter, he figured it might be best to actually check on him.

"Hey, Veneziano." the hazel-eyed man forced himself to mutter, his voice cracking slightly from exhaustion. "You still alive?"

Veneziano groaned weakly in response, his shoulders slumping as he clutched his chest. "I… I think so…" he mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper, words slurred together like he was half-delirious. "But I can't feel my legs anymore, fratello…"

The dark-haired brunette could barely feel his own legs, so he couldn’t exactly offer much sympathy. "Just keep moving." he murmured. "We're almost at the first stop."

At that, Veneziano muttered something unintelligible under his breath before releasing a long, exhausted sigh. But despite his complaints, he kept walking, and for Romano, that was good enough.

Turning his gaze forward, the Southern nation narrowed his eyes at the dimly lit path ahead, trying to see just how much more agonizing walking he had left to do before reaching the damn stop. But to his frustration, his view was completely blocked by Germany and Prussia

"Ugh." Romano groaned, his face twisting into an involuntary scowl.

The two Germans were only a few feet ahead of him and his brother, yet they were marching forward like they were somehow better than the two halves of Italy.

It was annoying.

But, what was even more annoying was how completely unbothered the idiots seemed to be by this... this hellish hike!

They strode up the trail like it was nothing, as if they were just taking a casual stroll through the city and not climbing up a freezing, rocky mountain in the dark. To make matters worse Prussia was even whistling some stupid tune like he was actually enjoying himself.

How? HOW?!

How the hell were they not tired? It was like neither the freezing cold nor the tiring climb had any effect on them. Meanwhile, every step Romano took felt like he was dragging a sack of bricks up the mountain.

Gah! It irritated Romano so much.

He glared daggers at their backs, fists clenched at his sides. It was so annoying, so utterly frustrating, but… at the very least, he supposed he could be somewhat grateful that Prussia was too occupied with hiking, or whatever the hell he was doing, to go out of his way to annoy him.

So far, the stupid bastard hadn’t made a single attempt to push his buttons like he usually did. But that didn’t mean Romano wasn’t on edge. Because even though Prussia wasn’t saying anything, the Southern nation had noticed the occasional glances he threw his way—quick, barely noticeable, but there. As if he was checking on him. Or more likely... plotting
something.

Just as Romano was about to sink deeper into his thoughts, Germany’s voice snapped him back to reality.

"In ten meters we'll reach the first stop." the Germanic nation remarked, slightly turning his head to glance back at the two Italians striding behind, his eyes shifting between Romano and Veneziano, seemingly making sure they were still in pieces before turning his head back around at the path before him.

Upon hearing that, a wave of relief washed over
the Southern nation. He was ready to pick up his pace, eager to reach the stop and finally rest his aching legs and back. But just as he was about to do so, a sudden, heavy thud echoed from behind him. The noise startled him so much that he nearly jumped out of his skin.

The Hell?

Romano's first thought was that a bear had somehow made its way onto the hiking trail and was now behind him, ready to pounce and tear him apart. But then, he remembered that, one, there were no bears in this part of Germany, and two, that Veneziano had been walking right behind him just moments ago.

Romano halted mid-step, his body tensing as he slowly turned around, scanning the area for his brother and whatever had made that unsettling noise. But to his shock, Veneziano was nowhere to be seen.

Narrowing his eyes, South Italy strained to adjust to the darkness, searching his surroundings once more. His gaze swept the area, over and over again, before finally dropping to the ground—and oh my god. His brother was sprawled across the dirt, motionless, like he had just been struck down, showing no signs of life.

Romano’s eyes widened in shock, his breath hitching as his heart seemed to stop for a split second. His gaze locked onto his younger brother, his mind scrambling to piece together what had just happened—how he had ended up on the ground like that. But the sheer panic constricting his chest made it impossible to think.

He opened his mouth as if to speak, but instead of words, a horrified scream tore from his throat, echoing through the air before he clamped a hand over his mouth, muffling the sound. His voice wavered as he choked out. "Mio Dio! Veneziano!”

In the blink of an eye, he was on his knees beside his brother, desperately trying to lift him up. But he was just so tired that no matter how hard he tried, he just couldn’t seem to raise his limp form.

"Merda!" the man cursed under his breath, frustration and fear mixing in his voice.

Fortunately, his panicked scream had caught the Germans' attention, and in an instant, Germany was on the ground beside Romano, while Prussia hovered next to him, his expression etched with worry. In that moment the Southern nation couldn't even find it in him to be annoyed at their proximity, because he was way too worried about his younger sibling.

Germany didn’t waste a second. Without so much as a grunt of effort, he practically lifted Veneziano off the ground, and onto his knees handling him as if he weighed nothing.

The Northern nation's face was contorted in pain and he looked like he was about to cry.

"Shit..." Romano heard Prussia mutter under his breath before the albino crouched beside him, his eyes filled with concern for the younger Italian. "Hey, you good?" he asked, tilting his head. He started to reach out, as if to offer comfort, but his hand lingered uncertainly in the air before he let it fall, clearly unsure of what to do or say.

Italy didn’t respond, merely scrunching up his face in discomfort. Romano shot a side glance at the white-haired German, scowling. He’s clearly not fine, you dumbass, he thought before refocusing his attention on Veneziano.

"Italy?" Germany called out to his lover, his face twisted with worry—perhaps the most concerned look Romano had ever seen on him. Yet, once again, Veneziano didn’t respond, merely squeezing his eyes shut.

The Germanic nation looked as if he was about to ask the younger Italian something—perhaps if he was alright—but before he could speak, the Southern half of Italy abruptly yanked his brother from the blonde’s grasp, turning him toward him with more force than necessary. "Ma che diavolo, Veneziano?! Rispondi già! (What the hell, Veneziano?! Answer already!)" his voice came out sharp, but there was a distinct tremor underneath it, betraying his concern.

At the sharpness in Romano’s voice, Italy’s head snapped up, his brown eyes widening in surprise as they met his brother’s. He blinked a few times before his shock faded, giving way to a look of pure guilt.

"I—I was just…" he finally stammered, his gaze flickering downward in distress before hesitantly returning to Romano’s. He swallowed hard, his breathing uneven. "I was tired and cold… and there was a rock, and I just..." his voice wavered, barely above a whisper. "I… I didn’t mean to trip…" he admitted, lowering his head as a quiet sniffle escaped him.

Upon hearing that, South Italy let out a sharp exhale, his grip on Veneziano’s shoulders relaxing. For a moment he’d thought his younger brother had passed out from exhaustion, been knocked unconscious, or even died. Which, yeah, was unlikely, but what else was he supposed to think when seeing Veneziano sprawled out on the ground like that?

Now that he knew it was nothing serious, he was really relieved. However, that didn't mean that he wasn't annoyed. That reckless idiot had scared him half to death. Veneziano really needed to be more careful!

"Gesù Cristo, Veneziano! (Jesus Christ, Veneziano!)" Romano exclaimed, giving the light-brunette a slight shake. "Don't you have eyes?!" he snapped. "How many times do I have to tell you to watch your damn step?!"

Hearing that, Veneziano's expression grew even more sorrowful as he nervously nibbled on his bottom lip. "I'm sorry..." he whispered, shaking his head. "It's just so dark... I couldn't see..."

Romano let out an annoyed huff at his response. "Tch, why didn't you say something, damn it?!" he snapped before sighing in frustration. "Whatever. Are you hurt?"

Veneziano paused for a moment, his eyes drifting downward before he gave a small nod. "Yeah, I think I might've scraped my knees..."

Romano followed his brother’s line of sight, and the second he saw the injuries, his stomach twisted. Veneziano’s pants were torn, smeared with dust and dirt, and the skin on his knees was shredded in an ugly way. Blood trickled down in uneven streaks, pooling into small beads before dripping onto the ground. He must've taken quite the fall.

The Southern nation grimaced, his face twisting in discomfort. He forced himself to look away, suppressing the urge to wince, and instead focused on Veneziano’s face.

Well, so much for hiking.

For some reason, the older Italian had a hunch that something bad was going to happen, but he never thought it would be to his brother of all people. Usually, it was Romano who the universe seemed to despise, bringing him nothing but misfortune, not Veneziano.

It was a good thing Veneziano was a nation, though. He healed faster than humans did. In a couple of days, he’d be good as new, like he’d never fallen in the first place. So it wasn’t anything worth worrying about, but still...

"Can you stand?" Germany asked, his gaze sweeping over his lover with evident concern.

"I think...?" Veneziano replied, uncertainty lacing his voice. "I'm not really sure."

The German simply nodded before shifting his attention to Romano, who was still holding onto the younger Italian. "May I?" he asked, his blue eyes flicking to Veneziano before returning to the dark-haired brunette.

South Italy stared at the Germanic nation for a moment, a faint frown crossing his face. After a brief moment, he reluctantly pulled his hands away from his brother, releasing him.

Without another word, the blonde stepped beside Veneziano, gently wrapping an arm around him for support. "Is this alright?" he asked.

Veneziano winced, his face scrunching up in pain, but he still managed a nod. "Yeah, it's fine." he murmured.

The blue-eyed man didn’t seem fully convinced, but he chose not to argue. Instead, he gave a small nod of understanding. "Come on, let’s get you to a bench."

The group continued the rest of the walk until they finally reached the first stop of the hike. As soon as they arrived, Germany carefully lowered Italy onto one of the benches meant for resting hikers. Without hesitation, Romano dropped down beside his brother—partly to offer him some comfort, but mostly because his own legs felt like they were about to give out.

A heavy silence settled over the group, the only sound being the wind weaving through the trees, its eerie whistle filling the emptiness between them. Under different circumstances, the sound might have been peaceful, soothing even, but now, it was just irritating.

The silence stretched, growing heavier with each passing second, until finally, the older of the two Germans broke it.

"Yikes, little Italy, those are some nasty wounds." Prussia remarked slowly, his gaze drifting over the younger Italian as his expression tightened into a slight frown. He hesitated for a moment before shaking his head and replacing his concern with a determined grin. "But hey, they make you look tough!" he said, striking an exaggerated flexing pose, clearly trying to cheer up the Northern nation. "Like battle scars!"

Veneziano offered a weak smile, mouthing a small "Thanks" in an attempt to show his appreciation for the gesture. However, his smile lacked any real warmth—rather than looking reassured, he appeared more pitiful than anything else.

Germany paced back and forth for a moment, seeming uncertain about what to do. Eventually, he stopped in front of the younger Italian, his expression unreadable. "Does it hurt?" he asked, kneeling down and carefully examining Veneziano’s injuries with a keen, assessing gaze.

"Yeah, kinda..." Italy murmured, his fingers anxiously twisting the fabric of his sleeve as uncertainty flickered across his face. With a dry swallow, he leaned forward and anxiously tapped the blonde man’s shoulder. "But... it's not too bad, right?" he asked, his voice laced with worry. "Will I be ok?"

Hearing that, the German gently took the distressed Italian’s hand in his own, his grip firm yet comforting. He looked up at the light-brunette, a faint, reassuring smile barely touching his lips. "No, it's not too bad," he murmured before pressing a soft kiss to his lover's hand. "You'll be fine."

Romano scowled at the sickeningly sweet display before him, crossing his arms tightly as he shot a sharp glare at Germany. The sheer level of sappiness made his stomach turn, and every fiber of his being wanted to hurl an insult at the blonde for being so disgustingly affectionate with his brother right in front of him. But despite his irritation, he held his tongue. As much as he despised Germany, he cared about Veneziano more, and right now, his brother’s well-being mattered far more than his own grudges.

Italy visibly relaxed at the Germanic nation's reassuring words, a deep sigh of relief escaping him as some of his worry melted away. His tense shoulders slumped, and he all but collapsed against Romano, seeking comfort in his brother's presence. Instinctively, the older Italian leaned back into him, grateful for the support as he subtly adjusted to share their weight. However, his sharp gaze remained fixed on Germany, his eyes burning with irritation as the blonde continued to hold onto Veneziano’s hand.

"That's good..." the Northern nation murmured, his voice barely above a whisper as he let his eyes slip shut. He remained still, his body completely at ease, as if the weight of exhaustion had finally caught up with him.

The blue-eyed man lingered for a moment, his gaze resting on his lover as he gently ran his thumb over Italy's pale knuckles. After a brief pause, he exhaled softly and pushed himself to his feet with a quiet grunt. Dusting off his pants, he took a step back, allowing the Italy brothers some space before moving to stand beside his own brother.

Prussia seemed momentarily lost in thought, his gaze distant. However, as soon as he noticed Germany at his side, he snapped out of his contemplation, his expression shifting to confusion upon seeing the faint distress on the younger nation's face.

"You ok, West?" Prussia asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah." Germany simply responded, crossing his arms as he fixed his gaze on the ground, looking as if he alone carried the world's burdens. "I'm just thinking..." he muttered, his shoulders sagging slightly. "Maybe I should have been more rational and said no when Italy insisted on this whole hiking trip..." his voice was quiet, tinged with regret. "It would have spared him from getting hurt… and the rest of us from all this exhaustion."

Prussia blinked at his younger brother, momentarily taken aback by his words. He hadn't expected him to say that. For a second, Prussia considered offering a genuine response, something to ease his brother’s guilt, but sincerity had never been his strong suit. Instead, he chose the easier route, the one that felt the most natural to him—cracking a joke.

"Speak for yourself," Prussia scoffed, shaking his head before proudly gesturing to himself. "I’m not tired at all! In fact, I’m still full of energy!" he declared with exaggerated enthusiasm. Truthfully, he was feeling a bit worn out, but that was beside the point.

Raising a hand to his forehead, he scanned the rest of the mountain as if sizing it up. "I could climb this thing three more times and still not be tired, because I’m just that awesome!"

Germany, however, didn’t find his response amusing in the slightest. He merely shot Prussia a sharp sideways glare, making it clear he wasn’t in the mood for jokes.

"Right." the Western nation muttered bitterly before shifting his gaze back to the ground, as if it had suddenly become the most fascinating thing in the world, completely disregarding the older man's words. After a brief silence, he let out a heavy sigh, pressing his fingers to his temples in frustration. "I don’t even get why he wanted to do all this walking in the first place..." he muttered through gritted teeth. "And now he’s hurt, and I can’t help but feel like i'm to blame."

Yikes.

With that, Prussia could agree. Not that his brother was to blame—hell no—but he too couldn’t understand why the younger Italian had insisted on something as exhausting as hiking when he clearly hated training and anything physically demanding.

What baffled him even more was that the older Italian had actually agreed to it. Romano, of all people, who despised physical exertion even more than Veneziwno and never failed to express his displeasure about it with a string of colorful curses.

Like, what?

Prussia knew that something was up with the Italy brothers, but he couldn’t figure out what hiking had to do with it. Was whatever they were dealing with so bad that they felt the need to physically strain themselves just to forget? That was seriously messed up.

Shaking his head to pull himself out of his thoughts, the albino shifted his focus back to the Western nation.

"Now come on," Prussia said, giving his brother a light nudge, hoping to snap him out of his gloom. "You're being too hard on yourself. Bad things happen, it can't always be sunshine and rainbows or whatever." he shrugged. "You can’t expect to control everything before it happens. Sometimes things just go wrong, and there’s nothing you can do about it." he glanced toward Italy before adding. "Besides, Italy kind of set himself up for this mess in the first place."

His words didn’t seem to lift Germany’s mood, but there was a flicker of understanding in his expression. So, at least there was that.

"I suppose..." the blonde muttered, his tired eyes drifting up to meet the older German's gaze.

Prussia was just about to tell him that, of course, he was right, because he was awesome, but before he could get the words out, an irritated voice interrupted him.

"The hell are you bastards mumbling about?" Romano snapped, his voice dripping with irritation, his face twisted into a scowl as if the two Germans had personally offended him.

The sharp remark broke Germany’s somber mood, his gaze snapping toward the Southern nation with a flicker of surprise. "Ah, sorry." the blonde said, straightening up. "We were just—"

Romano didn’t give him a chance to finish, rolling his eyes with an annoyed huff. "Actually, I don’t care," he said, frowning. "Just stop standing around like a couple of idiots doing nothing and make yourselves useful!" he gestured sharply toward the Northern nation, who was breathing slowly, his expression peaceful as if he had drifted into a deep sleep.

Both Germans looked over at the younger Italian, and it finally dawned on them that they would have to make their way back down the mountain to reach the car and head home. But with Veneziano injured, that was going to be anything but easy.

“Right, we need to get back down the mountain, and I doubt Veneziano will be able to make the trek in his condition.” Germany said, slipping back into his serious, almost professional demeanor.

"Uh huh..." the former nation murmured in agreement.

The younger German paused, his eyes flickering around as he considered their options. After a moment, an idea seemed to strike him, and he turned back to the Southern nation. "I think I saw a water fountain a little way down the trail."

Romano responded with nothing but an exasperated look, as if Germany had just said the most idiotic thing imaginable. Clearly unimpressed, he waited for further explanation.

Germany didn’t miss the skepticism and quickly added, "We can use the water to clean Italy’s wounds. It’ll help speed up the healing process."

Upon hearing Germany’s explanation, Romano’s irritation seemed to ease, though only slightly. His brows remained furrowed, but the sharp edge of his glare dulled just a bit.

Crossing his arms, he let out a huff before motioning impatiently with his hand. "Then get a move on, dumbass," he snapped. "That water’s not gonna get itself."

At that, the blue-eyed man exhaled sharply through his nose but chose not to argue. Running a hand through his now-disheveled hair, he turned on his heel and prepared to leave.

The albino watched him for a moment before shifting his gaze back to the Italians, a small grin spreading across his face. "Alright, West, you do that! I’ll keep little and older Italy company!" he declared proudly, completely missing the way Romano’s expression dropped.

However, before Prussia could even get close to the Italians, Germany swiftly grabbed him by the forearm and began pulling him away.

"You're coming with me." the Western nation stated flatly, not even glancing at Prussia. He had no intention of letting the albino cause more trouble than he already had.

"Hey! This is no way to treat your big brother!" Prussia protested, letting out a disappointed groan. Despite his complaint, he made no real effort to resist, simply pouting as he allowed himself to be dragged away by his younger sibling.

And just like that, the German brothers disappeared down the trail, leaving the two halves of Italy alone.

A sigh of relief escaped Romano as the tension in his body eased. He silently thanked Germany for taking Prussia with him—there was no way he would have survived being left alone (Veneziano was asleep so he didn't count) in his company.

If there was one thing he could admit to liking about Germany, it was his understanding. He knew how much Romano disliked the older German and was considerate enough not to leave them alone together just to avoid provoking him.

The Southern half of Italy drew in a deep breath, the icy air burning his lungs before he exhaled slowly. Now, everything was quiet again, with only the sounds of nature echoing around him.

It was eerily unsettling, but it was still better than being stuck with the Germanic nations. Their presence had felt suffocating. On top of that, their constant muttering to each other had done nothing but irritate Romano.

South Italy absentmindedly tapped his fingers against the fabric of his coat as his gaze drifted to the vast forest sprawling across the mountain. He watched as the wind tossed the leaves into a chaotic swirl before a sudden gust blew his way, making him shudder.

"Brr..." the dark-haired man muttered through clenched teeth, tugging his coat tighter around himself.

Damn it, why was it colder now?

Stupid, stupid country.

Well, at least with Veneziano injured, they finally had a reason to turn back. Romano knew he shouldn't feel relieved—his brother was hurt, after all—but he'd be lying if he said he wasn’t. Now, there was no excuse to continue this grueling hike, because, truth be told, Romano wasn’t sure his legs could carry him much farther. (He also wasn't sure he could resist being in this messed up weather any longer.)

Speaking of Veneziano, South Italy shifted his hazel eyes toward the Northern nation resting against him, checking to see if he was still asleep.

Unsurprisingly, Italy was completely passed out, looking as if he’d just fought a war all by himself.

Poor fratello... Romano thought, his gaze drifting to the younger Italian's torn pants before dropping to the ground. Absentmindedly, he nudged a small pebble with his foot, a faint pang of guilt tightening in his chest.

Veneziano needed to stop being so selfless, especially when it came to Romano, because it wasn’t doing him any good. He was overexerting himself, prioritizing Romano’s well-being while neglecting his own, and it left the Southern nation feeling awful.

Romano didn’t deserve his brother’s kindness—he truly didn’t. He was far too selfish and far too cruel to deserve it.

The dark-haired man sighed, casting another sorrowful glance at his brother. At least Italy was sleeping now—it would help him regain his strength and get him back on his feet.

Yeah, good thing he was sleeping.

...

Romano wanted to sleep too.

He too was tired from all this walking. He too wanted to doze off and rest his eyes.

The Southern nation stared harder at his brother, watching how peaceful and calm he looked. Not a single worry marred his face, no negative thoughts crossed his mind, and there was no overthinking to cloud his thoughts. He was just... relaxed.

A sharp pang clenched at Romano's heart, and his jaw tightened ever so slightly.

It bothered him how easily Veneziano could sleep, even in the most inconvenient of places. It really, really bothered him.

His hands curled into the fabric of his coat, wrinkling it, and he could feel his guilt slowly morphing into a burning, deep jealousy—a jealousy of Veneziano for being able to sleep, while Romano couldn’t—for the love of God—rest, no matter how desperately he tried.

He could feel himself trembling, his body tense with barely restrained anger. But it wasn’t just anger at his brother for being able to sleep so easily—it was anger at himself for even feeling jealous in the first place.

How could he be so awful, so utterly pathetic, to feel jealous of his own brother for something as simple as sleeping, especially after Veneziano had pushed himself to exhaustion and even hurt himself, all for Romano’s sake, when he didn’t have to?

How could Romano be such a terrible person?

The thought made the dark-haired man so furious with himself that, overcome with frustration, he let out a loud groan and shoved his head into his hands. However, he had forgotten that Italy had been leaning against him, and his sudden movement caused the lighter-haired man to jolt awake.

"What... what happened?" the younger Italian asked, his voice laced with drowsy confusion as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. Blinking groggily, he glanced around, his brows furrowing. "Where's Germany?"

Romano muttered a curse under his breath, silently berating himself for waking his brother. Straightening up, he motioned toward the trail leading down the mountain. "That bastard and his idiot brother went to get some water from some fountain or whatever, to help with your injuries."

Upon hearing that, Veneziano turned his gaze in the direction Romano was pointing, squinting as he tried to make out anything in the darkness. However, the night obscured most of his view, making it difficult to see much.

"Ah..." murmured the Northern half of Italy, tilting his head slightly before turning back to his older brother with a sleepy yawn. "That’s really sweet of them."

"Yeah, whatever," Romano mumbled, shrugging it off as he wrapped his arms around himself for warmth. "You can go back to sleep if you want." he tried to keep his tone neutral, though the word 'sleep' felt bitter on his tongue. "I don’t know when they’ll be back, so just rest if you can."

Italy looked as if he was genuinely about to do just that, but before he could, a thought seemed to cross his mind, jolting him awake and banishing any trace of drowsiness from his face.

"Did you, by any chance... also sleep?" he asked, blinking with a hint of hope, a small smile beginning to form on his lips.

At those words, the Southern nation stiffened, his grip on himself tightening as his gaze dropped to the wooden bench, avoiding Veneziano's eyes.

Luckily, he didn’t have to say a word—his tense, uneasy demeanor was more than enough of an answer for the other Italian.

"Oh." Italy murmured, his smile fading as his expression shifted to one of quiet regret.

They sat in silence for a brief moment before Veneziano crossed his arms over himself, mirroring Romano’s posture, perhaps from the cold, before finally speaking again.

"I'm sorry, fratello." the younger Italian murmured softly, his words nearly making the dark-haired man flinch

"Sorry...?" Romano repeated, momentarily confused before his expression twisted into a frown of irritation. "The hell are you apologizing for now?" he snapped, blinking in disbelief.

Italy bit down on his lower lip, his expression twisted with guilt, as if he had committed some unforgivable crime. "For... for ruining this for you." he admitted, his voice small as he dropped his head, drawing in a shaky breath. "This stupid hike was supposed to tire you out so you could finally sleep, but we barely made it a quarter of the way before I tripped and fell, and ruined everything!" his voice wavered at the edges, each word heavy, as if speaking them aloud physically hurt. "Now we have to go back home because of my stupid clumsiness, and you’re still not tired enough to sleep..." he whispered, his tone filled with frustration, fighting back the urge to break down. "It was all for nothing..."

Romano stared at his brother for a moment, his eyes widening just slightly as a pang of guilt twisted in his chest.

Veneziano was apologizing to him, despite having done nothing wrong, and Romano had had the audacity to be angry with him…

How could he be this awful?

How could he possibly be such a terrible person?!

Aughh!

Terrible, terrible, terrible!

Romano was a terrible person!

Drawing in a shaky breath, the Southern nation slowly shook his head, as if trying to clear the jumble of thoughts swirling in his mind. "That's... that's not true." he forced out, his voice strained, as if speaking took far more effort than it should have. "I'm tired. Really, really damn tired." he admitted, swallowing dryly. And it was the truth. He was exhausted, probably more than he had been in ages. "So... it wasn’t all for nothing."

"But... I wanted you to be even more tired, so you could sleep like you used to before your insomnia started..." Veneziano murmured, his face scrunching into a disheartened expression.

"If I were any more tired than this, I'd probably be dead." Romano stated flatly.

"Don't say that!" the younger Italian exclaimed, his eyes widening as he clamped a hand over his mouth in shock. "That's a terrible thing to say!" he added, his words slightly muffled.

"Yeah, well, horrible or not è la verità. (it's the truth.)" the Southern nation replied with a shrug.

At those words, Italy pursed his lips into a thin, tight line, shaking his head in a stubborn, almost childlike manner. His brows furrowed slightly, but he said nothing, simply turning away and sinking into deep thought, his expression unreadable.

Romano observed him in silence, unsure of what was running through his brother’s head. But after a while, when Italy still hadn't resumed sulking, he figured that maybe Veneziano was feeling a little better.

The silence lingered for another moment as South Italy wondered where those two bastards were and why they were taking so long, before the man beside him suddenly sprang to his feet with an unexpected burst of excitement, nearly scaring the soul right out of Romano’s body.

"I KNOW!" Italy shouted excitedly, a wide grin spreading across his face. However, his excitement was short-lived as a sharp pain suddenly overtook him, causing his expression to twist in discomfort. "Ow, ow, ow!" he whined, quickly dropping back onto the bench. His hands hovered over his wounded knees, hesitant to touch the injuries but desperate to soothe the throbbing pain.

"Idiota!" the dark-brunette snapped, giving the younger Italian a light punch on the shoulder. "What’s wrong with you?! Are you trying to make your injuries even worse?!"

"Sorry..." Veneziano said, leaning over to gently blow on his wounds in an attempt to ease the pain before straightening up. He flashed a wide grin at the older Italian, and for some reason, Romano just knew he was about to say something either completely out of place or utterly ridiculous.

"The greatest Idea just hit me!" the brown-eyed man exclaimed, clapping excitedly, which made Romano narrow his eyes in suspicion.

The Southern nation took a deep breath, preparing himself for whatever stupid statement might come from his younger brother. Yet, when Veneziano finally spoke, his words were so unexpected that they completely caught Romano off guard.

"You should continue the hike on your own!"

The dark-haired brunette nearly choked on his own breath upon hearing the other Italian’s words, barely managing to stop himself from breaking into a full-blown coughing fit. He was certain that if he had been drinking water, he would have spat it out in an exaggerated spray, just like in those stupid cartoon scenes.

Veneziano wanted him to do what now?!

South Italy lightly patted his chest, trying to steady himself after nearly choking, before slowly turning his head to stare at the man beside him, his expression a mixture of disbelief and skepticism.

Maybe he had misheard. Maybe his exhaustion was finally catching up to him, warping his senses to the point where he was imagining things, things he had absolutely no desire to hear.

Slowly, he narrowed his hazel eyes in disbelief. “What?” he asked, his voice dangerously calm.

Veneziano only smiled brighter. "You should continue the hike on your own!" he repeated, this time with even more enthusiasm.

The hazel-eyed man stared at his sibling for a brief moment before pure shock spread across his face

Oh no.

No, no, no.

Romano was utterly fed up with hiking. He didn’t even want to hear the word anymore. He was completely done with it. How could Veneziano have the audacity to suggest something so absurd? That he, Romano, should continue hiking alone? For what possible reason?

Nooo!

"WHAT??" Romano shouted, his voice louder than he had intended, his eyebrows shooting up in disbelief. "ARE YOU—" he started, his words stumbling over each other as his mouth moved faster than his brain could keep up. "ARE YOU CRAZY?!" he finally bellowed, nearly knocking the other man off the bench. "ARE YOU TRYING TO KILL ME?!"

Veneziano winced at the loud outburst directed at him, his face scrunching in discomfort, but the determination in his expression remained unwavering. "No, fratello! You’ve got it all wrong!" he insisted, shaking his head vigorously. "I would never do anything to hurt you!"

"Well, it sure doesn't look like it!" Romano shot back, throwing his hands up in frustration.

"Romano!" Italy cried out, his voice only serving to further irritate the Southern nation.

"Shut up!"

"Fratello, just hear me out!" Veneziano pleaded once again, pressing his hands together in a silent prayer. But before Romano could even open his mouth to protest, his younger brother was already launching into a frantic, barely coherent ramble.

"The second stop point is only five kilometers away!" he blurted out, the words spilling from his lips so fast as if he feared they’d run away from him. "So, you can keep hiking until you reach it, while the rest of us wait for you here! It won't take long!" his voice carried an almost desperate enthusiasm, as if he truly believed he was presenting the perfect solution. "Then you’ll be even more exhausted, and when we finally get back home, you’ll pass out the second your head hits the pillow!"

Romano blinked at him, pure disbelief etched across his features. "You’re actually trying to kill me."

"Fratello!"

"No!" South Italy exclaimed, crossing his arms in an ‘X’ for emphasis. "No way! That’s the dumbest idea I’ve ever heard!" he jabbed a finger at the other nation’s face. "There is absolutely no chance I’m doing any more pointless walking! Hell no!" his firm refusal earned a disappointed look from his sibling, but he ignored it completely, pressing on with his rant. "I can barely stand as it is! Do you seriously want me to fall off this damn mountain and get impaled by a tree?!"

Upon hearing his discouraging words, the light-brunette’s face contorted in alarm. "Nooo! That’s not going to happen! You’re overthinking it and being way too negative!"

"Veneziano!" Romano snapped, effectively cutting off the younger Italian. He took a sharp inhale, his brows furrowing as he shot him a withering glare. "Are you even listening to yourself?!" he demanded, tilting his head, his hazel eyes burning with incredulity. "Do you seriously expect me to purposely torture myself even more than I already have with this damn hike for something I’m not even sure I’m going to get?!"

"Romano, that's not..." Veneziano started, only to trail off, seemingly struggling to put his thoughts into words. "You're not..." he tried again, but frowned and shook his head. "It’s not torture!" he finally insisted, though his expression suggested even he wasn’t entirely convinced. "It’s… well, just really exhausting walking! But it’ll be good for you!"

"No!"

"Yes!"

"Romano, think about it, for a moment!" Italy urged, placing a hand on the older nation’s shoulder. "If you walk these extra five kilometers, you'll be really, really tired, like not just normal tired, but super tired! And when someone is that tired, they fall asleep fast!" he explained, gesturing wildly with his free hand before pointing at the dark-haired Italian. "You’ll be out like a light the second you hit the bed!"

Romano listened to the Northern nation's words, ready to retort and tell him to stop spouting such nonsense. But as he opened his mouth, the words wouldn’t come. He couldn’t bring himself to disagree, because, despite absolutely hating the idea Veneziano had just suggested, there was a disturbing part of him that wasn’t entirely opposed to it.

The idea of getting sleep—sweet, blissful sleep, the one thing he had craved and longed for, for what felt like forever—was all too tempting.

Now that he thought about it, Italy's words didn’t sound so bad, and he couldn't shake the feeling that the younger nation had a point. If he really pushed himself, to the point of being so exhausted he couldn’t think straight, it would almost certainly make him pass out, and that meant he’d finally get to rest.

The thought had crossed his mind before, the idea of exhausting himself to the point of no return, but he’d never seriously considered going through with it. Now, though, with Veneziano suggesting it, maybe it was a sign that he should actually try it.

If there was a chance he could just collapse and sleep without the usual struggle of tossing and turning... that would be great. Incredible, even.

Besides, what could go wrong...?

"I..." South Italy began, stretching out the word, unsure of what to say or how to say it, his mind overwhelmed by a jumble of thoughts. It took him a few moments before he could finally speak again. "Fine." he said, almost breathlessly.

Veneziano offered him a quick, comforting side hug before the sound of heavy footsteps pulled them apart.

They both turned toward the source of the sound and soon spotted the two Germans making their way up the trail. Prussia looked relatively bored, his hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket, while Germany, as serious as ever, carried a small bucket—presumably filled with water—in one hand.

Upon spotting the other nations—particularly Germany—the light-brunette eagerly lifted a hand high in the air, waving excitedly. "Germany! Germany!" he called out, his voice brimming with joy and his eyes sparkling at the sight of his boyfriend.

Amused by his overly enthusiastic display, the younger German gave a small wave with his free hand before quickening his pace to close the distance between himself and the cheerful Italian, leaving Prussia to trail behind.

Setting the bucket down a bit farther from the two halves of Italy to prevent it from toppling over—given their tendency for sudden movements, especially Veneziano—Germany turned to greet his lover.

"Hey." he said, offering the other man a small smile.

"I'm so happy you're back!" Italy exclaimed, grabbing his hand and pulling him closer. "I missed you so much!"

"It's only been fifteen minutes." the Germanic nation remarked, though rather than annoyed by the Italian's affection, he seemed fond of it.

"Fifteen minutes too much!" Veneziano exclaimed, tugging on the blonde’s arm and practically pulling him down into a hug.

A loud "AHEM." suddenly echoed, prompting Germany and Veneziano to break apart, both startled as they turned toward the source of the sound. Just a few feet away stood Prussia, hand to his mouth and a blank expression on his face. "I came back too, you know." he said, glancing at Italy.

At that, the Northern nation offered an apologetic smile. "Sorry, Prussia..." he said, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "I completely forgot about you!"

"Ah! You wound me, little Italy!" Prussia cried out in exaggerated shock, making a grand show of stabbing himself in the heart before nearly toppling backward.

Italy grew slightly alarmed, too exhausted to realize the older German was only joking. "I can give you a hug too if you want!" he offered eagerly, opening his arms wide, only to accidentally smack Romano in the face.

"Merda! Veneziano!" the dark-brunette cursed, shoving his brother’s hand away as his irritation flared once more with the arrival of the two Germans. "He's just fucking with you, damn it!" he snapped, trying to get his younger brother to realize that the former nation was just being an idiot again. But his words went unheard as Veneziano remained fixated on the red-eyed man, distress evident in his gaze.

"No..." the white-haired man replied to Italy’s words, his voice deliberately strained as if truly wounded. "It's not the same," he insisted, feigning deep hurt before turning away. "It never will be the same." he let the words hang in the air for dramatic effect before continuing. "I suppose ex-nations like me are simply meant to be... forgotten..." he lamented, draping a hand over his eyes as if he had just been defeated by a sworn enemy, and was now preparing for his inevitable demise.

Even though he was clearly joking, Italy didn’t see it that way and nearly burst into tears at his words.

"Waaah! I'm sorry! I didn't mean to forget you!" he wailed, flailing his arms in distress, forcing Romano to scoot to the edge of the bench to avoid getting hit again.

Seeing his lover so distressed, Germany shot a sharp glare at Prussia. "Bruder, stop that." he said, his tone carrying a hint of irritation. "You're stressing him out."

At that, Prussia peeked out from beneath his hand, his red eyes flicking between Germany and Veneziano. Realizing his joke had completely missed the mark with the younger Italian, he straightened up and stepped in front of Italy, a faint trace of guilt flickering across his features.

"Hey now, don't start bawling over what I said!" he exclaimed, raising his hands in surrender with an apologetic smile. "I was just messing with you!" he gave Italy a light pat on the head. "I know you'd never forget someone as awesome as me!"

That seemed to calm down the brown-eyed man instantly, and he brightened up, looking as if he had never been distressed or worried at all.

"Thank goodness! I was really worried I had actually hurt your feelings!" Veneziano said, letting out a relieved sigh.

"Nah, I'm too awesome for that, haha!" Prussia laughed, relieved to see the younger Italian back to normal. However, he didn’t miss the annoyed glare Germany shot his way, prompting him to swiftly change the subject to stay off his brother’s blacklist. "Besides, I’m sure Romano here has missed me enough for the both of you!" he added, striding over to the Southern nation and clapping a hand on his shoulder, a wide grin spreading across his face.

Romano went rigid at the sudden contact, his head whipping around as his hazel eyes fixated on the pale hand resting on his shoulder, eyeing it as if it were a deadly disease rather than just a hand. Because of that, it took him two full seconds to process what the former nation had said and another two before he finally snapped like he usually did.

"Don't fucking touch me, stronzo!" he exclaimed, his voice laced with fury as he slapped the albino’s hand away with all the force he could muster. "I didn’t miss you—not even a little!" he exclaimed before scooting back to his brother, putting as much distance as possible between himself and the white-haired man.

Prussia's expression changed to mild shock at Romano's outburst. His red eyes flicked to his hand, then back to the Southern nation, before he frowned and narrowed his eyes.

Romano was doing that thing again—that same thing he had done that morning and at the museum—getting overly aggressive and anxious for no apparent reason, desperately trying to shut Prussia out and escape.

But why? Why was he acting like this? Had Prussia unknowingly said or done something to trigger him?

The former nation mentally retraced his steps, searching for anything that might have set the Italian off. But as far as he could tell, he hadn’t done anything out of the ordinary—nothing different from how he usually acted. And yet, despite that, Romano was visibly upset. More than that, he was shaken, and Prussia couldn’t understand why.

The former nation's gaze shifted to the southern half of Italy, noticing the subtle details in Romano’s demeanor. His breathing had grown heavier, his hands trembled ever so slightly, and his glare, though sharp, held more defensiveness than true anger. His entire body was taut, wound tight like a coiled spring, as if ready to snap at any moment

So, something Prussia had done must have set him off… but what? And why only Romano? Why hadn’t Veneziano reacted the same way? Shouldn’t it have affected both halves of Italy, considering they were both going through something similar?

It didn't make any sense.

Before he could dwell on it too much, Germany's voice cut through his thoughts.

"Prussia, knock it off." he muttered, shooting the albino a stern glare before grabbing the bucket of water and pulling it closer to Italy.

The albino blinked, momentarily caught off guard, before shaking his head and, for once in his life, actually listening to his younger brother.

Germany seemed relieved that Prussia had finally listened to him and let out a sigh before kneeling in front of Veneziano, refocusing on what truly mattered—helping his lover.

His icy blue eyes scanned the light-brunette’s wounds once more, before he retrieved a cloth from his pocket and soaked it in the water.

"Let me know if it hurts, okay?" Germany said, glancing at Italy, who gave a small nod in response. However, as soon as the blonde pressed the damp cloth against his wounds, Italy winced.

"It won’t take long," Germany assured him, noticing his lover’s discomfort. "We can go home after this."

The instant those words left the Western nation’s lips, Romano felt Veneziano’s gaze land on him. Before he could react, the Northern nation gave him a subtle nudge, lightly elbowing him in the ribs. Stifling a groan, Romano crossed his arms to shield himself, preventing his brother from jostling him further.

He knew exactly what Veneziano wanted from him, but damn it, the least he could do was give him a moment to think.

Romano wracked his brain for an excuse to justify continuing the hike, but nothing came to his mind. A wave of annoyance washed over him, and he bit his lip, frustrated by his own inability to think of anything.

Huffing through his nose, the Southern nation glared at the ground, struggling to get his thoughts in order. However, as he did, a strange sensation of being watched suddenly crept over him, prompting him to slowly lift his eyes in caution. To his horror, he found Prussia staring at him.

The albino's sharp red eyes were narrowed, drilling into the Southern half of Italy with such intensity that it made the dark-haired man's skin prickle.

That alone was enough to throw Romano into full-blown panic. His pulse spiked, and before he could even think of an excuse—or anything at all—he lurched to his feet in a frantic mess of jerky, uncoordinated movements. A sharp burn shot through his legs, the exhaustion from the hike and the day's stress hitting him all at once. But he ignored it, wanting nothing more than to get away from Prussia’s gaze.

He took a few steps toward the second part of the trail before abruptly spinning back around, his expression painfully stiff.

"I, uh—I'm gonna keep going," the hazel-eyed man blurted out, the words tumbling from his mouth far too quickly. "Until you're done patching Veneziano up or… or whatever it is you’re doing, I’ll just, uh, hike a little more. Then I’ll come back." he said, his voice shakier than he would have liked, carrying an uncertainty that made it seem like even he wasn’t convinced by his own words.

At his sudden declaration, both Germans stared at him as if he had just declared war on Germany and was sending an army their way to seize their land.

Prussia’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, clearly caught off guard, while Germany momentarily stopped tending to Italy’s wounds to give Romano a perplexed look.

"What?" Germany asked, genuine surprise coloring his tone as his expression shifted from confusion to disbelief in an instant. He stared at Romano, frowning in utter bewilderment. "You… want to keep hiking?"

Romano shifted uncomfortably under their stares, swallowing his nerves before forcing his usual scowl back into place. "Tch, yeah. What, are you deaf?" he snapped. "That’s what I said, didn't I?"

Germany looked slightly taken aback, blinking as if struggling to process whether he had actually heard correctly. And he wasn’t the only one. Out of the corner of his eye, South Italy noticed Prussia staring at him with equal confusion, as if he had just sprouted a second head.

"It’s… it’s terribly late, and Italy is injured," the blonde said slowly, as if stating the most obvious fact in the world. "You can’t seriously want to—"

However, the Western nation never got the chance to finish his sentence, as Veneziano quickly cut him off in an overly cheerful manner.

"I think that's a great idea, fratello!" the light-brunette beamed, clapping his hands in excitement.

"Italy!" Germany exclaimed, turning to the smaller man with a look of utter disbelief.

In response, Veneziano simply smiled at Germany, completely unfazed by his obvious shock. "Don't worry, Germany! Fratello will be quick!" he chimed. "He can walk really fast when he puts his mind to it!"

"That’s not what I’m worried about," the blue-eyed man admitted, pressing a hand to his temples as if his blood pressure had just skyrocketed. "You’re injured, we’re all exhausted, it’s really late, and the temperature is below freezing." he explained, his tone edged with frustration. "Staying out here any longer than we already have is a bad idea, especially for you." he added, pointing firmly in Italy’s direction.

Italy, however, seemed to miss the point entirely. "Aww, Germany's worried about me!" he exclaimed, beaming as he leaned over and wrapped his arms around the blonde in a hug—or at least as much of a hug as their current position allowed.

"Italy, cut it out!" the Germanic nation scolded, though he made no real effort to push him away. "You're going to make your injuries worse."

Romano watched the chaotic scene unfold and decided he should make a quick escape before anyone—especially Germany—tried to talk some sense into him. However, before he could act, he suddenly found himself face to face with Prussia. His heart nearly plummeted into his stomach at the former nation’s abrupt appearance.

"What the hell is wrong with you?!" the Southern half of Italy yelped, instinctively stepping back as he shot a sharp glare at the white-haired man in front of him. "Get away from me-"

However, the dark-brunette didn’t get the chance to finish his sentence, as Prussia suddenly leaned in closer, further invading his personal space. The abrupt movement sent even more alarms blaring in his head, effectively cutting him off.

"Are you… okay?" the white-haired man asked slowly, his tone almost cautious, as if he weren’t entirely sure whether he should be asking the question at all.

The moment the ex-nation’s words left his mouth, it was as if a screen had shattered behind Romano, the jagged shards piercing into him without warning. His eyes widened, his mouth went dry like sandpaper, and his mind went completely blank.

A sudden tightness seized his chest, making it feel as if the air around him had thinned, leaving him struggling to breathe. His heartbeat thundered in his ears, his stomach twisted into painful knots, and though he tried to steady himself, his hands trembled ever so slightly.

Why would Prussia ask him that?

Why would he ask if he was okay?

Oh. My. God.

This was what Romano had feared the most.

His worst nightmare was coming true.

Prussia was trying to make him slip up. To get him to talk. He was prying into Romano’s personal business! (Again!)

AHHHH!

Oh hell no. No, no, no.

If Romano let even the smallest crack show, Prussia would use it against him. He’d laugh. He’d mock him. Or worse! He’d never let him live it down. He’d hold it over his head forever, maybe even blackmail him with it. That was just how he was. Prussia loved to screw with people, and Romano had seen him do it before.

This was exactly what he was doing to Romano now—messing with him for his own sick, twisted amusement, just because he was bored and had nothing better to do.

Romano’s pulse pounded as he slowly looked up, his jaw clenched so tightly it felt like his teeth might crack. He expected to see amusement—an arrogant smirk, a malicious glint in those infuriating red eyes. Something taunting. Something cruel.

Instead, he saw—

Worry...?

Romano's breath caught in his throat.

What?

That couldn't be right.

Why would Prussia be worried about him?

It had to be fake. It had to be.

But… it was the exact same look he’d worn at the museum. Back when he had nearly given the Southern nation a third heart attack. The same furrowed brows. The same serious gaze. The same quiet, unsettling concern.

Romano’s stomach twisted. He hated it.

He hated it because he couldn’t understand it. He couldn’t understand why Prussia—why anyone—would ever be concerned about him.

"Why…" Romano started, but the word barely made it past his lips before it died in his throat. He swallowed dryly, his mind a tangled mess of too many thoughts crashing into each other at once. It was too much. It hurt.

He instinctively took another step back, but the moment he did, his legs wavered beneath him. His balance faltered, and for a terrifying second, he thought he was going to collapse. But before he could hit the ground, a firm grip caught his forearm—Prussia. The albino had noticed his sudden unsteadiness and held him upright, keeping him from falling.

"Woah!" the German exclaimed, his expression quickly shifting to surprise. "Hey, what's wrong?"

What's wrong?

WHAT'S WRONG???

YOU! YOU ARE WHAT'S WRONG!

Romano squeezed his eyes shut, focusing on steadying his breathing and slowing his racing heart. It took a moment, but he managed to gather himself. As soon as he did, he quickly pulled away from the albino, refusing to meet his gaze and instead fixating on anything but him.

"Nothing is wrong, you stupid bastard!" the Southern nation spat through gritted teeth, lacing every word with as much venom as he could muster.

"Are you sure...?" the former nation asked, skepticism clear in his voice. "You don't look fine-"

"I'm fine! I'm fucking fine! Mind your damn business, you idiot!" Romano snapped, his voice sharp with frustration. Letting out a low groan, he spun on his heels and hurried away from Prussia, making a beeline for the second part of the trail, eager to put as much distance between them as possible.

The former nation blinked in surprise at Romano’s sudden outburst before shaking his head and calling after him, "Hey, wait up!"

But the dark-brunette had already disappeared from view, making him curse under his breath.

Turning around, he cupped his hands around his mouth and called out to his younger brother. "Yo, West! I'm going with Romano!" he exclaimed before jogging backward, giving the couple a small wave. "You and little Italy stay put!"

As soon as the words left his mouth, he spun around and picked up his pace, tuning out Germany’s protests entirely. He broke into a full sprint, briefly wondering how Romano had managed to put so much distance between them in such a short time. But soon enough, he spotted him—marching forward at an almost ridiculous speed, his whole body tense with frustration.

Prussia’s expression sharpened with determination, and in an instant, he caught up, falling into step beside him. The sudden presence made Romano visibly jolt, nearly stumbling in surprise.

"What the—" Romano exclaimed, his expression shifting from shock to anger in an instant. "Are you following me?!"

"Uh... yes? No? Pick your favorite answer." Prussia replied, shrugging awkwardly, hoping not to make Romano more upset than he already was. Unfortunately, his response only seemed to make the Italian even angrier.

"Go away!" he shouted, not waiting for the former nation to say anything before turning and walking away again, this time with even more speed, if that was possible.

"H-hold up!" the German called out, stumbling over his words as he hurried to catch up with the Italian once more.

Damn, he was fast.

"Wait a second!" Prussia called out as he sprinted ahead, arms outstretched, trying to block Romano’s path and stop him. But Romano merely glared at him, ducked under one of his arms, and kept moving, practically running away from him. The ex-nation’s annoyance began to grow.

Why was this guy so determined to get away from him?

"Ugh, Romano!" the white-haired man shouted after him, not expecting any response. To his surprise, the Southern nation actually halted, spinning around to glare at him with pure fury, fire practically burning in his eyes.

"What?!" he snapped, stomping his foot in frustration. "What do you want from me?!" he demanded, his voice tinged with exasperation. "What could you POSSIBLY want from me?!"

Hearing that, Prussia couldn’t even get upset about being yelled at, he was too relieved to see that Romano had finally stopped running away, and was giving the albino the chance to have a normal conversation with him... well, as normal as it could be with Romano. He was like a ticking time bomb.

The former nation raised his hands in surrender, signaling that he meant no harm—and truly, he didn’t—before carefully and slowly moving toward the other nation. He did so with caution, fully prepared for Romano to get angry and run off again. Thankfully, the dark-haired man didn’t flee, allowing Prussia to get close enough to have a proper conversation.

Sighing deeply, the red-eyed man studied Romano, taking in the fury etched across his face and the tense, rigid way his body was held. The sight of it stirred something in him, and he couldn’t help but feel a surge of guilt, his expression softening into an apologetic look.

Damn, Romano really wasn't ok. Like at all.

Prussia typically wasn’t the type to feel sorry for others or get tangled up in their problems, but in that moment, he truly felt a real sense of concern for the Southern half of Italy.

"Look," the albino began, cautiously testing the waters with the fiery Italian. When he saw that Romano wasn’t about to lash out, he went on. "I'm sorry for... angering you," he said, unsure of what exactly he’d done wrong but hoping it would help calm the Southern nation down. "I just want to talk."

Hearing that, the dark-haired Italian narrowed his eyes and deepened his frown. "Talk?" he repeated in a dangerously calm voice before inhaling sharply. "You want to talk to me?!" Romano’s voice rose in pitch, his frustration evident. "Talk to me about what exactly?!" he nearly shouted, his face showing exasperation and displeasure.

Yet, despite all his anger, Prussia could see the subtle tremor in Romano’s shoulders and the slight quiver in his eyes, as though he was terrified of what the albino might say next. It nearly made Prussia second-guess his next words. Nearly.

"Uh, well, about... you." the former nation muttered, the last word coming out much more uncertain than he would've liked, as if his voice was involuntarily backing out on him.

Man, he sucked at this.

Clearing his throat, the red-eyed man forced himself to speak again, making sure his voice stayed steady this time. "Something’s clearly bothering you, and, uh, possibly your brother too, since you both have been acting off, especially you, and I just—" but he didn’t get to finish, as Romano erupted, cursing him out with all his might.

"Fuck you! Fuck you! Fuck you!" the dark-haired Italian shouted, his voice cracking just a bit. He looked like he was ready to kill someone—and that someone was Prussia.

The albino didn’t even have a chance to speak, as Romano quickly grabbed a large rock from the ground and held it up.

"Why don’t you talk to this damn rock instead, you bastard!" the Southern nation yelled, before hurling the rock directly at Prussia, who barely managed to dodge it. "Nothing is bothering me, nothing, I tell you, except for you!" the Italian kept shouting at the top of his lungs. "Leave me the hell alone!"

This was not going well.

"Romano just-"

However, the former nation didn’t have a chance to finish his sentence, as Romano turned around and started running away again.

Fuck!

"Are you kidding me?" the German muttered under his breath, rubbing his temples in frustration and taking a deep breath before running after the other nation.

One thing Prussia could say he learned from this whole messed-up situation was that Romano could run when he really wanted to, and damn, keeping up with him was exhausting.

They kept at it for what felt like an eternity before finally reaching the second stop of the hike. There, Romano finally slowed down, his incessant pace coming to a halt. He bent forward, hands on his knees, chest rising and falling with each heavy breath.

Prussia, equally out of breath, mirrored his movements for a brief moment, needing to catch his own breath and regain some energy. He dragged himself to Romano’s side, mentally praying that Romano wouldn’t take off again, because the Great Prussia was certain he had reached his running limit for the day.

Romano seemed to notice his presence, but didn't say a word, nor did he try anything. He simply stayed in the same position for a few seconds, before letting out a loud sigh. Then, to the red-eyed man's surprise, Romano crouched into a ball, burying his face in his hands.

"Please, just leave me alone." Romano mumbled, his voice drained, as if he had no more anger left to give. He paused for a moment, the only sound being the wind filling the silence, before he whispered so quietly that Prussia almost missed it. "What could you possibly have to gain from tormenting me like this?"

Prussia watched the other man, a wave of guilt pulling at his heartstrings, and he suddenly regretted being so insistent with the Southern nation.

The albino opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. He was not used to seeing Romano like this—so small, so defeated. The Southern half of Italy was usually all fire, all biting words and flaring tempers. But now, hunched in on himself, trembling slightly as his fingers curled into his hair, he seemed more like a wounded animal than the volatile nation Prussia knew him to be.

Ah, Prussia felt like a total idiot.

The Germanic nation let out a long, frustrated breath, mentally berating himself for the way he had acted.

He shifted awkwardly beside Romano, unsure of what to do next. His plan to lighten the Southern nation's mood and figure out what was stressing him out so he could win him over with some great advice wasn't going as he'd hoped.

Nothing was going right.

The former nation stole another glance at the dark-haired figure, tapping his foot anxiously on the ground, before slowly kneeling beside Romano. His crimson eyes lingered on him for a brief moment, his face briefly contorting with remorse, before he lowered his gaze to the ground, watching the tiny blades of grass pushing through the rocky earth. They glistened softly under the moonlight and stars.

Prussia drummed his fingers impatiently against the ground, before shifting his eyes upward. He chose to divert his thoughts from the present, focusing instead on the stars that sparkled like scattered shards of ice in the endless dark. It was peaceful, soothing, and it eased the weight in his chest. It reminded him of the days when he wielded a sword, fighting countless battles beneath this very sky, with only the stars to light his way through the darkness.

At that thought, his lips curved into a small, involuntary smile, and before he could think better of it, he found himself speaking, the words tumbling out in a quiet rush.

"You know, back when I was with the Teutonic Knights, I used to navigate using the stars.” the former nation confessed, his voice quieter than usual, still carrying its usual confidence, but lacking the boastfulness. “There’s one constellation right there—” he raised a hand and pointed up at the starry sky. “—Cassiopeia. It always looks like a crooked ‘W’ in the sky. We used it to find our way north.” he remarked, his tone growing softer, almost nostalgic. “No matter how lost I got, how bad things looked, I knew that as long as I could find that shape up there, I wasn’t completely screwed.”

Romano shifted slightly but didn’t lift his head. His fingers remained curled in his hair, as if still trying to shut everything out. Maybe Prussia should've taken that as a hint that Romano didn’t want to talk, but he didn’t. Instead, he continued speaking.

"Stars are kinda funny, y’know." the former nation remarked, a soft, almost self-deprecating chuckle escaping him. "They’re always there, even when you can’t see them. Even when the clouds roll in, when the storms hit, when everything feels like it’s gone to hell, they don’t disappear." he expressed, his eyes softening. "They're still there."

The white-haired man continued to stare at the sky with a fond smile on his face before speaking again, only this time quieter. "Isn't it awesome? You don’t have to see the stars all the time to know they’re there." he remarked, turning to look at Romano. "So even when you find yourself surrounded by darkness, you'll know that light will follow, no matter what."

There was silence. Then, hesitantly, Romano shifted just enough to peek up at the sky. His eyes traced the faint outline of Cassiopeia, and for a moment, the tension in his shoulders lessened. As he stared up at the stars, his face lost its usual scowl, softening into something that almost resembled awe.

It was such a strange expression on Romano's face, so foreign, that Prussia couldn’t tear his gaze away from the dark-haired man.

The Italian either noticed Prussia's not-so-subtle staring or simply turned to look at him for another reason, but the albino swore that when Romano’s hazel eyes met his own, and that look of awe was directed at him, his heart skipped a full beat.

Romano stared at him, blinking slowly, before tilting his head ever so slightly. It stole the oxygen from Prussia’s lungs in the most pleasant way ever, and he found himself instinctively mirroring the movement, unable to look away from those olive-tinted eyes.

Damn, now he totally understood why his younger brother was so head over heels for little Italy.

The Southern nation parted his lips, and for a fleeting second, it looked as if he was about to speak, maybe finally voice what had been bothering him so much. But before any words could leave his mouth, he snapped it shut, his expression shifting quickly. The awe that had previously softened his features disappeared, replaced instead by... an anxious look.

Huh?

Prussia was sure he hadn't done anything to upset the other nation this time, yet Romano appeared unsettled.

Why?

The white-haired man furrowed his brows, gazing at the Italian in confusion. He observed as Romano’s tan hand shot up to his head, gripping his temples as though thinking physically pained him. The sight made the albino feel concerned, and he reached out, unsure of what to do but eager to soothe him. However, before he could make contact, Romano suddenly pushed himself upright.

“We should go." South Italy muttered, his voice raw and hoarse. “Veneziano and your bastard of a brother are waiting.”

With that, Romano walked away, leaving Prussia staring after him in surprise. But the surprise was short-lived, quickly replaced by a deep, overwhelming sense of disappointment, one so weighty that it left a sour taste in his mouth.

What the hell was that?

Just when they had finally started getting along—just when Prussia had managed to earn some level of Romano’s trust—he had shut down again and simply… run away. It wasn’t the running that irritated Prussia, though it was pretty frustrating. What truly got to him was the sudden distress in Romano’s demeanor.

What was wrong with him? What was bothering Romano so much that every time Prussia got even remotely close, it sent him into a state of anxious retreat? And why didn't he want to talk about it?

The former nation wanted to know. He wanted to know, just so he could fix it, which was strange because Prussia had never felt the urge to do something like this for anyone before. Yet, when he thought back to the Southern nation's hazel eyes, he found himself wanting to make the other man feel better.

Damn it, Prussia. This was neither the time nor the place to be making googly eyes at Romano!

He exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through his silvery hair in an attempt to push away the inopportune thoughts. His gaze drifted back to Romano, watching as his figure gradually faded into the distance, a weight of defeat settling deep in his chest. For a moment, he simply stood there, lingering in the silence. Then, with a low grunt, he pushed himself to his feet and trudged after the Italian, the stars still burning in the night sky above—only this time, their cold light offered no comfort to the Prussian.

Chapter Text

The walk down was quiet—unnervingly so—and for some reason, agonizingly slow. Neither Romano nor Prussia said a word, each keeping to themselves, which was unusual, especially for the former nation. Still, they stole glances at each other when they thought the other wasn’t looking. A few times, their eyes met, but every time they did, they quickly averted their gazes, pretending to be interested in something else entirely. It was excruciating, at least from Romano’s perspective, keeping him on edge the entire way down. But it wasn’t just the red eyes watching him that made him anxious—it was the words their owner had spoken to him not long ago.

"Even when you find yourself surrounded by darkness, you'll know that light will follow, no matter what."

Those words were the main reason for South Italy’s distress. Those small, seemingly insignificant words were what made his mind feel louder than usual.

No matter how hard he tried, the Southern nation couldn’t get them out of his head.

They had felt nice. Really nice.

When Romano had heard those sickeningly sweet words, something inside him had melted, like ice cracking under the first touch of spring. He had almost spilled his guts out right then and there. He had almost let himself cry.

God, he had wanted to. He had wanted to so badly—to stop holding everything in, to collapse against Prussia’s stupidly warm presence, and to let himself fall apart piece by piece until there was nothing left of him.

But he didn’t.

Because no matter how much he had wanted to cry—no matter how much he had needed to—the gentleness in Prussia’s voice had terrified him to his core. And it still did. Even now, as they walked side by side, the silence between them growing heavier with every step, his heart pounded wildly in his chest, as if it were about to explode.

It terrified him because it was just so unlike Prussia. It was unnatural. It didn’t fit the former nation, not in the way Romano had always known him. He was supposed to be arrogant, obnoxious, loud. He wasn’t supposed to speak like that, to care like that.

What made things even worse was that Romano wanted to believe it.

He wanted to believe that Prussia was genuinely being kind to him, that he cared, that he wasn’t just playing some cruel, twisted joke on him.

But he couldn’t.

He just couldn’t.

His mind wouldn’t let him.

It kept telling Romano, over and over again, that Prussia was only doing this to ruin him. That this was some elaborate trick, that the moment Romano let his guard down, the former nation would laugh in his face and prove just how much of an idiot he was for believing any of it.

And Romano believed it.

Every single word his mind fed him, he believed. As if it were his religion and he, its devoted follower.

Because why else would Prussia care?

It was making Romano so anxious, so overwhelmed with stress that he could barely keep himself together, let alone walk properly. Twice already, he had nearly tumbled off the damn mountain—once because he tripped, and another time simply because his legs had gone numb. What made it even worse was that, each time, Prussia had caught him, preventing him from plunging to his doom. Romano couldn’t understand it—why was Prussia bothering to help him instead of just letting him fall?

The third time it happened—because, of course, it happened a third time—the ex-nation didn’t just catch him. No.

Instead, he switched sides.

Without a word, he moved Romano closer to the mountain wall, placing himself on the more dangerous side where the ground sloped steeply into nothingness.

That nearly made Romano pass out on the spot.

He felt like the air had been sucked straight out of his lungs, like his brain had just stopped functioning altogether.

Why?

Why the hell would Prussia do that?

Why would he risk himself just to keep Romano from falling?

It didn’t make sense.

Nothing about this made sense, and it was making him feel sick.

After what felt like the most agonizing walk of Romano’s life, the two finally arrived back at the first checkpoint of the hike, where their brothers were waiting.

Germany sat on the bench beside Italy, looking visibly irritated, while Italy slept peacefully with his head resting on the blonde’s shoulder, as if he didn’t have a single care in the world.

Upon spotting Romano and Prussia, the younger German seemed to grow even more irritated, barely restraining himself from throwing hands with the two. It likely had something to do with the fact that they had stormed off so suddenly, leaving him and Italy to wait in the cold for who knows how long.

South Italy, however, paid no mind to the Germanic nation's sharp glare and all but rushed to his brother, barely stopping himself from embracing him. He wanted a hug—so badly that the urge made him feel sick—but, of course, he said nothing, did nothing, and simply shoved the feeling down.

"Veneziano," he said, his voice so raw and guttural that he almost wished the ground would swallow him whole. "Wake up." he forced the words out, shaking his brother a little too roughly.

"Huh...?" the younger Italian mumbled as he stirred, blinking in confusion before his brown eyes landed on Romano. A small, sleepy smile crept onto his face. "Fratello! You're back!" he exclaimed, his voice still laced with drowsiness but carrying the same cheerful tone as always. "How was the hike? Was it nice?"

The Southern nation grimaced at the question, unwilling to answer. Fortunately, he didn’t have to, as Germany (rudely) inserted himself into the conversation between the two Italians.

"Romano," the Western nation began, his voice laced with frustration. "I usually keep my temper in check with you and try not to berate you, but what you pulled crossed a line." he spoke sharply, but the Southern nation barely spared him a glance. "Do you even realize how irresponsible it was to just—"

"Give it a rest, West." Prussia interjected with a sigh.

Germany furrowed his brows at the older man, disbelief flashing across his face. "Prussia, you—" However, the words barely left his mouth before they faltered. From the corner of his eye, he noticed Romano tense at Prussia’s presence before the dark-haired man suddenly began shaking Veneziano more urgently.

"Veneziano, come on!" South Italy exclaimed, his voice edged with an unusual unease. "Get up! We should go!" he hissed, practically yanking his brother off the bench and pulling him away from the Germans.

"Ow! Wait, Fratello! That hurts!" Italy's voice rang out, gradually fading as the two brothers moved farther away from the Germanic nations.

At that, Germany's gaze flickered between Prussia and the older Italian before he quickly stood up, narrowing his eyes at his brother.

"Was hast du gemacht? (What did you do?)"

Hearing that seemed to jolt Prussia out of whatever gloomy daze he was in, and he shot the younger nation an offended glare. "Nothing!"

"Don't give me that!" the blonde said, struggling to keep his voice down. "You clearly did something!" he accused, jabbing a finger in the red-eyed man's face. "I specifically told you not to mingle in Romano's business!"

"I didn't fucking mingle in anything!" the former nation snapped, though he knew that wasn’t entirely true. Still, the last thing he wanted was for his younger brother to make an even bigger fuss over the situation.

Germany shot him a deadpan look, crossing his arms. "Then what’s wrong with him, huh?"

"I..." Prussia started but trailed off, his red eyes drifting to the side, landing on Romano, who clung to Veneziano as if his life depended on it. The anger in his expression faded, replaced by something more somber. "I don't know," he finally admitted, shaking his head slowly. "I wish I did."

Germany seemed momentarily taken aback by the older German’s sudden change in demeanor. For a moment, he said nothing, simply following Prussia’s gaze and watching the Italians before letting out a sigh. "Alright. I believe you." he said, turning back to the former nation. "But please, just... try not to cause any trouble."

Prussia’s eyes remained fixed on the Italians—or more specifically, on Romano—as he nodded absentmindedly. "Whatever you say, West."

With that, Germany motioned for the former nation to follow him, and Prussia did, the two making their way toward the Italians.

The group began their descent down the mountain, all exhausted and eager to rest. At first, Romano stuck close to his brother, clinging to Veneziano’s arm under the excuse of helping him walk since he was injured. In truth, it was more for his own sanity than anything else. However, as the trail grew rougher and nearly impossible to navigate properly, Germany ended up carrying Italy on his back, as the younger nation couldn’t take a step without wincing in pain.

That complicated things for South Italy. He had no interest in walking beside either of the Germans, but eventually, he positioned himself so that Germany was between him and Prussia. If he had to choose, he’d rather tolerate Germany’s presence than be anywhere near the former nation. The shift only made the atmosphere even more awkward, but Romano didn’t care. He just needed to keep himself from having a stroke at Prussia’s hands.

After what felt like an eternity, they finally reached Germany’s car, and South Italy couldn’t have been more relieved. He was so exhausted that his vision blurred at the edges, and his legs felt like they might snap in two.

The younger German carefully settled Italy into the backseat, the Northern nation sleeping so soundly it seemed nothing in the world could wake him. Romano climbed in beside him before slamming the door shut with more force than necessary. Up front, the two Germanic nations took their seats, exchanging a brief glance before starting the car. Without another word, they pulled onto the road and began the quiet journey home.

The drive was unbearably silent, the kind of silence that felt heavy and suffocating. The hum of the engine and the occasional flicker of headlights passing by did little to break the stillness. No one spoke. No one even tried.

Romano preferred it this way. The last thing he needed was more pointless conversation adding to his already growing headache.

After a while, the Southern nation felt his eyelids grow heavier and his limbs grow numb, but he refused to close his eyes and give in to exhaustion. He wanted to stay tired until he was back home, in his own bed, so that the moment his head hit the pillow, he would fall asleep without any trouble.

When they finally arrived at the Germans' house, South Italy wasted no time peeling off his coat and tossing it haphazardly onto the floor. He did the same with his shoes before turning on his heel and shooting down the hallway, not bothering to spare a glance at the others.

The man barely registered his brother’s drowsy voice asking if he wanted something to eat. In all honesty, he was a little hungry, but he’d sooner put a bullet in his own head than sit through another meal with Prussia.

The moment South Italy stepped into his room, he let out a deep, weary sigh, pressing his back against the door as his head rested on its wooden surface with a dull thump. The overwhelming relief of finally being somewhere safe washed over him, making his entire body go slack. His legs, too exhausted to hold him up any longer, gave out beneath him, and he slid down to the floor, drained of every last ounce of strength.

"Mio Dio." Romano breathed out, pressing the heels of his palms against his eyes, his entire body screaming with exhaustion.

The dark brunette remained like that for a while, slumped against the door, listening to the sound of his own heavy breaths filling the otherwise silent room. After a moment, he swallowed hard and forced himself to move.

With sluggish, unsteady motions, Romano finally pushed himself up, his limbs trembling from the effort. His vision swam for a brief second, and he nearly lost his balance, his body swaying as he took a step forward. Ignoring the dizziness, the nation dragged himself toward his bed.

Without bothering to change into fresh clothes, he collapsed onto the mattress, sinking into the sheets as if he were becoming one with them. His limbs felt unbearably heavy, so much so that he was certain he wouldn’t be able to move even if he tried. So, he didn’t. The man simply lay there, completely still, letting the exhaustion and stress consume him.

"Sleep..." the Italian mumbled, his voice muffled by the pillow he had buried his face into.

He needed to sleep. It wasn’t just a desire, it was a necessity. And he was going to do it. He was going to sleep because he was simply too exhausted not to. He just had to relax and let himself be pulled into the depths of unconsciousness. He was going to do this!

...

Any second now!

...

Minutes passed. Then more. Then so many that Romano lost track of time entirely.

He stayed in the same spot, not moving an inch, practically glued to the bed and sprawled out like a flattened pancake in the most comfortable position he had ever been in. But… despite all that, he didn’t fall asleep. Not even for a second.

It wasn’t that the Southern nation wasn’t tired enough—he was beyond exhausted, probably on the verge of ascending to the afterlife with how drained he felt. No, that wasn’t the problem. The real issue, the thing fueling his endless torment, was his head—his stupid, twisted head. Or more specifically, his damn brain.

It wouldn’t shut up. It just wouldn't shut the hell up.

That wasn’t anything new for him. For months now, he had grown used to the relentless noise of his own thoughts, the ones that refused to be silenced no matter how hard he tried. But now… now, it was worse. Louder. So unbearably loud that it actually hurt.

Every time he closed his eyes, his mind yanked him back to the events of the evening, replaying them over and over again in an endless, torturous loop—Prussia’s voice, his words, the way he had looked at him. Each detail clawed at his brain, refusing to let go.

It was driving him insane.

He didn’t want to think about it. He didn’t even want to remember it. All he wanted—no, all he needed—was to sleep.

South Italy squeezed his eyes shut, gripping the sheets in frustration, desperately trying to shove the stupid thoughts of Prussia out of his head and will himself to sleep. But no matter how hard he tried, the memories kept forcing their way into his mind, refusing to leave him alone.

Go away!

With an irritated huff, the dark-haired man turned onto his side, shifting in an attempt to find a position that might help silence his mind. But it was useless.

Romano gritted his teeth in frustration.

It’s fine. Just breathe. Sleep will come.

That’s what the Southern nation kept telling himself, but the words were hollow, nothing more than a desperate attempt to convince himself of that. Because as more time passed, sleep didn’t come. Not even close.

With an exasperated groan, the hazel-eyed man rolled onto his other side, this time with more force, burying his face into the pillow as if it could silence the noise in his head. But instead, the noise only grew louder, drilling into his skull in a way that felt like he was being stabbed.

This couldn't be possible.

His exhaustion was unbearable, almost inhuman, and yet it wasn’t enough to overpower the racket in his mind? It wasn't enough to put him to sleep? To stop his overthinking?

How. Could. This. Be.

"Chiudi subito quella cazzo di bocca! (Shut the fuck up, already!)" Romano hissed under his breath before flipping onto his back and gripping his head tightly as if he could physically squeeze everything out of his mind.

His fingers dug into his scalp, nails pressing against his skin, but it didn’t help. Nothing helped. His head hurt. It ached. The pressure, the exhaustion, the loudness—it was too much.

This was Prussia’s fault. This was all Prussia’s fault. If he wasn’t so damn nosy, if he didn’t always have to shove himself into Romano’s business, the Southern nation wouldn’t be suffering right now. He’d probably be asleep. He’d probably even be dreaming. But instead, he was lying here, miserable, unable to get even a second of rest, and it was all because of Prussia.

That... that bastard! That infuriatingly nice, yet awful, but also nice, but still completely horrible bastard!

How could he do this to Romano?

In a sudden burst of frustration, the Southern nation lifted his head and slammed it against the mattress. Once. Twice. Three times. As if the impact could somehow force his thoughts to stop writhing around in his brain like a swarm of ants and finally stay still.

But, the dull thud did nothing to silence them. It was useless. Completely useless—just like that damn hike, just like that stupid museum, just like this entire trip. This horrible, utterly miserable trip that had done nothing but make his already unbearable insomnia even worse.

Inhaling sharply, the dark-haired brunette bit his tongue in frustration, fighting back the urge to cry. He hated this. He hated every second of it. He just wanted to go home. He wanted to be in Rome. But instead, he was stuck in Germany—a place that might as well have been called the devil’s country for the absolute torment it was putting him through.

Fuck this wretched country!

The Southern half of Italy yanked the pillow from beneath his head and shoved it against his face, muffling the furious scream that tore from his throat. Then, with a sharp flick of his wrist, he hurled it to the floor before forcing himself to his feet. He regretted it instantly. His body swayed violently, his legs barely managing to keep him upright. For a moment, he thought he might collapse. But he pushed through, dragging himself toward the desk in the corner of the room, where he had left his sleeping pills.

Without thinking twice, he snatched the bottle and tried to rip the cap open, but the moment his fingers touched the plastic, he noticed how badly his hands were shaking.

Great. This was the last thing he needed.

He tightened his grip on the bottle, willing his hands to stop trembling, and after a few more tries, he finally managed to tear the lid off. Without hesitation, he poured a handful of pills into his palm, ready to toss them into his mouth. But just as he was about to, he froze. He didn’t have any water to swallow them with.

"Are you serious?" the dark-haired man hissed through clenched teeth, barely restraining himself from hurling the pills and the bottle against the nearest wall. As much as he wanted to, he couldn’t, because he needed them. More than anything.

How could he have forgotten to get water again? He should have learned his lesson after the first time he had to take these cursed pills in this even more cursed house!

Stupid, stupid, stupid!

Romano didn’t want to go down. All he wanted was to sleep. Just that, damn it! One simple thing, the only thing he wanted in his life. It wasn’t expensive, rare, or difficult to get. And yet, he couldn’t have it.

South Italy snapped his head around, his gaze locking onto the wooden door of his room. He glared at it as if it had personally offended him. He really didn’t want to go down. He really, really didn't... But, at this point, taking these sleeping pills might be the only thing that could finally put him to sleep... and also, keep him from outright dying. Because that’s how he felt. Like he was dying.

The dark-haired man kept scowling at the door, his teeth grinding together in a mix of anger and frustration. He weighed his options for a brief moment before forcefully slamming the pill bottle onto the desk, making it tremble under the impact. He did the same with the pills in his hand, sending some scattering across the floor. But Romano didn’t care. He simply dragged himself toward the door and threw it open with such force that it nearly came off its hinges.

"Questo stupido posto di merda! (This stupid fucking place!)" the Southern nation spat, his voice laced with fury as he stomped his aching feet against the hardwood floor. In that moment, all he wanted was to tear this cursed house apart, burn its remains to ashes, and hurl them into the deepest ocean in the world.

The hazel-eyed man carefully descended the stairs, his grip on the railing tightening as his legs trembled beneath him, barely holding him upright. He was making his way toward the living room, intending to pass through it to reach the kitchen. However, just as he was about to take another step, he abruptly froze, stopping so suddenly that he nearly lost his balance and fell backward.

The living room, which should have been empty at this ungodly hour, was instead occupied by his brother and the two Germans. They were talking and laughing about something, well, at least Prussia and Italy were. Germany, as usual, remained quiet, only offering a faint smile as he listened to the conversation

Romano blinked in confusion. For a moment, he wondered if he had finally lost his mind, imagining things that weren’t really there. He rubbed his eyes, shook his head, but no—he wasn’t hallucinating. The whole damn house was, for some reason, gathered in the living room at—wait, what time was it?

He furrowed his brows, his gaze darting around until it landed on the clock hanging on the wall. The moment he saw the time—well past midnight—his confusion twisted into irritation. One, because he was still awake. And two, because everyone else was too, when they should’ve been asleep instead of sitting around chit-chatting or whatever the hell they were doing at this ridiculous hour.

Ugh! Why the hell were they still up? This was making everything a thousand times more complicated for Romano!!

The Southern nation brought a hand to his mouth, stifling a groan of frustration. Why was it that the world always seemed to be against him when he was at his lowest?

His grip on the railing tightened, knuckles whitening as his already frayed patience threatened to snap. How could they just sit there, laughing, talking, making noise as if they didn’t have a care in the world, while he was suffering? Suffering so, so much.

It wasn't fair.

His throat felt tight, and for a moment, he almost let himself wallow in that bitterness. But with a quick slap to his face, he snapped out of it and swallowed it all down. Every ounce of irritation and jealousy pushed to the back of his mind. He didn’t have time for self-pity. He had some 'zzzs' to catch.

Taking a deep breath, Romano steadied his nerves and straightened up. This situation was a pain in the ass, but it wasn't the end of the world. He could do this. He just had to get through the living room to the kitchen, grab a glass of water, and be on his merry way without drawing attention to himself. Not too hard, right...?

Biting down on the inside of his cheek, the dark-haired brunette hesitated for a moment before slowly releasing his grip on the railing. With cautious, measured steps, he moved forward, tiptoeing as quietly as he could and doing everything in his power to avoid drawing attention to himself. For a moment, it seemed to be working, and Romano almost felt confident enough to quicken his pace. But, of course, good things never lasted for him. Just as his steps quickened, he didn’t notice a bump in the living room carpet and ended up tripping, nearly falling to the floor. He had to grab onto the dresser next to him to catch himself, almost knocking it over along with the vase on top.

Fuck.

Well, so much for not drawing attention to himself...

God, he was such an idiot!

Romano could feel the thick silence that had settled over the room, and he could practically sense the other’s gaze drilling into him. He wasn’t sure whether to feel embarrassed or wish he could disappear, but he was pretty sure he was feeling both.

Swallowing hard, he released his grip on the dresser, his fingers lingering for a moment before he reluctantly turned his head. As he had dreaded, every pair of eyes in the room was locked on him, staring with a mix of surprise and curiosity. The silence felt suffocating, and the tension was so thick, it made his skin crawl. It was so painfully awkward, that he wanted to rip the floorboards up, dig a deep hole, and bury himself inside it, sealing it off and never coming out again.

The Southern half of Italy pressed his lips into a tight line, his fists clenching at his sides as he looked at the people he had been trying to avoid. He caught sight of Germany’s confused expression and Veneziano’s surprised one before his gaze landed on Prussia’s puzzled face. However, the moment his eyes met Prussia's red ones, his heart sank, and he quickly averted his gaze to the ground.

S.O.S

Abort mission! Aborttt!

The Southern nation desperately wanted to run, but his legs wouldn't obey. In fact, he couldn't move at all—he was completely frozen in place, as if turned to stone.

"Fratello...?" Italy's voice cut through the silence. "What are you doing here?"

At that, Romano’s head snapped up, his eyes locking onto his brother’s. His mind raced, scrambling for an answer, but no words came. He stood there, unmoving, trapped in the suffocating stillness that stretched between them. Seconds dragged on, each one heavier than the last, until he finally sucked in a sharp breath and forced himself to speak.

"Water..." the word barely made it past his lips. He gave a vague gesture toward the kitchen, his hand trembling ever so slightly.

Without another word, Romano turned around and clumsily made his way to the kitchen. The moment he reached the counter, he gripped it tightly, his nails digging into the wood as he struggled to steady himself.

He was so focused on staying upright that he barely noticed the sound of footsteps approaching. It wasn’t until they drew closer that the noise finally registered, sending a jolt through him as his pulse quickened. But the moment he turned and saw that it was just his brother, a wave of relief washed over him, and he instantly relaxed.

"Are you ok?" Veneziano asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper. He placed a gentle hand on Romano’s forearm, his eyes filled with concern as he studied him carefully.

The dark-haired brunette glanced at the younger Italian, his teeth sinking into his lower lip before he gave a small shake of his head. "I... I can't sleep." he admitted, his voice quiet, yet loud enough for the Northern nation to hear.

"What?!" Veneziano blurted out, his voice louder than intended, making Romano flinch. Realizing his mistake, he quickly slapped a hand over his mouth, his eyes darting anxiously toward the two Germans still in the living room. Both were now staring at them with puzzled expressions. Awkwardly, Veneziano forced a small, sheepish smile in their direction before shifting his gaze back to Romano.

"What do you mean, you can't sleep?" the younger man asked softly, his face etched with worry. "I thought..." he trailed off, furrowing his brows for a moment before his expression shifted to one of sadness. "I thought you were tired enough to fall asleep..."

"I was tired," the older Italian exhaled, his voice laced with exhaustion. "Still am." he added, his gaze dropping back to the counter. "I just... can't sleep."

"Why...?" Veneziano asked, his voice trembling slightly.

At his brother's question, Romano tensed up again, his body going rigid as he curled his hands into tight fists. His nails dug so hard into his palms that he was certain they’d leave marks, but he barely registered the sting.

He couldn’t tell Veneziano the truth. He couldn’t admit that his own thoughts refused to quiet down, that no matter how exhausted he was, his mind kept racing in endless circles, overthinking every little detail until it physically hurt. And he definitely couldn’t tell him who he was overthinking about.

Because what was he supposed to say? That Prussia had been nice to him, but Romano was convinced it was all some elaborate scheme to ruin his life? That every word, every action, every fleeting glance had to mean something bad, even when there was no proof? It sounded ridiculous. So damn pathetic that the mere thought of saying it out loud made his skin crawl.

"I-I don't know." the Southern nation stammered, internally cursing himself for doing so. His gaze flickered to Veneziano, desperation creeping into his expression before he suddenly reached out, clutching the sleeve of his brother’s shirt in a tight, almost frantic grip. "Just give me water, please." he all but begged. "That will help me."

Upon hearing that, the Northern nation quickly nodded, wasting no time as he pulled away from Romano. He hurried to a cabinet, grabbed a glass, and rushed over to the sink, turning on the faucet and beginning to fill it up.

Romano let out a quiet sigh of relief, grateful for his brother’s help. As he waited for Veneziano to return with the water, he let his head drop forward, bringing a hand up to his face and rubbing at his stinging eyes.

At this rate, he was going to have to buy himself a new set of eyes, considering how dry and worn out these ones were—it was a miracle they still worked at all.

As the man brooded over his thoughts, the sound of approaching footsteps reached his ears once more. He didn’t bother looking up, merely extending a hand, fully expecting Veneziano to place the long-awaited glass of water into his grasp. But as the seconds stretched on and his palm remained empty, a prickling unease crawled up his spine. Something wasn’t right. Slowly, he blinked and lifted his gaze only to freeze, like a deer caught in headlights.

That wasn’t Veneziano.

Oh no, it was far from Veneziano.

It was the last person Romano wanted to see—the very source of his frustration, the reason he couldn't sleep, the cause of his throbbing headache.

Prussia.

Flipping Prussia.

Oh. My. God.

"Hey..." the former nation muttered, hesitantly raising a hand in a small, awkward wave. His lips curled into a faint smile, but it wavered at the edges, as if he wasn’t sure whether he should be wearing it at all.

The southern half of Italy felt as if the air had been forcefully knocked from his lungs, leaving him dizzy and unsteady on his feet. His vision blurred for a moment, and a wave of nausea twisted in his stomach as his legs threatened to buckle beneath him. Any second now, he was sure he was going to hit the floor.

Fuuuuckk!

Why? Oh God, why? Why was it that every time Romano was alone, Prussia had to appear and make him want to kill himself?

The dark-haired brunette swallowed dryly, his wide eyes locked onto the German as he silently prayed for Veneziano to return and put an end to this torment—or, at the very least, for a bolt of lightning to strike him down so he wouldn’t have to endure it any longer.

Why was Prussia still trying to talk to him? Romano was sure he had made it clear that he wanted nothing to do with him. He had assumed Prussia understood that, but clearly, he hadn’t.

"Uh..." the ex-nation muttered abruptly, his expression shifting into one of clear discomfort as he caught sight of the Italian’s intense stare. His hand moved to the back of his head, fingers raking through his hair in a nervous gesture while his gaze flickered away, as if searching for the right words. He parted his lips, ready to speak, but instead of an actual sentence, only a strained, hesitant "Um..." managed to escape him.

Romano was far too consumed by his own spiraling panic to even register the albino’s unusual hesitation. In that moment, he wanted to be anywhere but here. He would have rather been trapped in Britain’s house, forced to choke down his awful cooking, or spend an entire day suffering through that idiot France’s company than be here with Prussia right now. Anything—absolutely anything—would have been better than this.

South Italy clenched his jaw and took in a sharp breath, desperately willing himself to do something, anything, to escape this awful situation. But no matter how hard he tried, his limbs refused to move, and his voice remained trapped in his throat. All he could do was stand there, frozen, staring at Prussia, who met his gaze with a slightly conflicted expression.

"So..." the ex-nation finally managed to say, his voice breaking the heavy silence as he shifted from foot to foot, as if bracing himself for whatever he was about to say next. But the words never came, because in that moment, Veneziano returned.

"Ah! Prussia!" the light-brunette exclaimed, causing both Romano and the former nation to flinch in surprise and turn their eyes toward him.

The Northern nation darted his brown eyes between the two, his expression a mix of surprise and slight unease. "What, uh, brings you here?" he asked, attempting to sound casual but instead coming off as rather suspicious.

Luckily, Prussia either didn’t notice or was too startled by Veneziano to care. He simply grinned at the younger Italian before gesturing toward Romano. "I just came to say hi to Roma over here since he kinda bailed on us when we got home, haha!"

"Oh," the Northern nation murmured, offering a small, hesitant smile as he gave a slight nod. "That’s very nice of you..." he added, his tone uncertain. His gaze flickered to Romano before returning to Prussia. "But I don’t think Romano’s up for a conversation..." he nervously tapped his fingers against the rim of the glass before giving Prussia an apologetic look. "You see, he’s really tired from all the walking and stuff, so staying up to chat probably wouldn’t be the best for him."

At those words, the former nation shot a quick glance at the older Italian before giving Veneziano a small nod. "Ah, yes, right, of course," he said, perhaps a bit too eagerly, his tone carrying a hint of awkwardness. "That’s totally reasonable." he added, agreeing once again with the Northern nation, followed by a dry chuckle.

Romano let out a small sigh of relief at Prussia’s response, silently thanking Veneziano for actually being the voice of reason for once, and whatever divine force was watching over him for making the older German go along with it without pushing back. Though, now that he thought about it, it was incredibly frustrating how Prussia immediately listened to Italy but completely disregarded Romano every time he told him to leave. How rude!

Clearly, the bastard only found it amusing to mess with him, not Veneziano, which was beyond frustrating. But whatever, Romano wasn’t going to dwell on it (wrong, he absolutely would overthink it). Right now, he had more important things to focus on, like getting his damn water from Veneziano and locking himself in his room. Just thinking about that brought him a brief sense of peace.

Unfortunately, that peace was short-lived.

In an instant, Prussia’s eyes were back on him, fixed in an intense stare that seemed to pierce straight through Romano's soul, causing the dark-haired brunette to go rigid again.

The albino seemed deep in thought, as if something was bothering him—something tied to the Southern nation. Uncertainty flickered across his sharp features before being replaced by a look of determination. That was never a good sign with Prussia—it meant he was about to do something Romano was almost certainly going to hate.

"I won’t keep him up,” the former nation finally said, turning back to Veneziano. “I just need to ask Romano something real quick."

And there it was.

Fuck.

Hearing that, the dark-haired brunette felt his heart nearly stop as a fresh wave of panic crashed over him. He didn’t need to guess what Prussia wanted to ask—he already knew, and that was exactly what terrified him. During the hike, the former nation had mentioned wanting to talk because he’d noticed Romano acting strangely. Damn it. Why couldn’t he just mind his own business?

Romano had managed to dodge that unpleasant conversation once, but he didn't know how he was he going to do the same now.

Besides, who even was Prussia to him? He wasn’t family, he wasn’t a friend—hell, he was barely even an acquaintance. So why was he prying so damn much? Like… like he actually cared!

Anxiety twisted in the hazel-eyed man's stomach as he quickly snapped his gaze to his brother, who was watching them with clear uncertainty. Desperation surged through Romano, and he rapidly shook his head at Veneziano, silently pleading for him to refuse.

Thankfully, the younger Italian seemed to pick up on Romano’s clear reluctance to talk to Prussia.

Veneziano hesitated for a moment, blinking at his brother before shifting his gaze back to the albino. “Uhh...” he murmured, swallowing hard as he glanced off to the side. “I don’t think that’s a good idea." he said carefully, pausing before forcing a strained smile at Prussia. “Maybe you can talk to him tomorrow?”

At that, the ex-nation hesitated, seeming for a moment like he might actually give up, but of course, that was just wishful thinking. A small frown creased his brows as he quickly regained his resolve. "I’ll be quick, I swear!" he insisted, not even waiting for a response from the Northern nation before turning fully toward the older Italian.

"Romano—" the red-eyed man began, but that was all he got out. The instant his name left Prussia’s mouth, South Italy’s panic shot through the roof.

Acting on pure instinct, he pressed his back against the counter as if he could somehow phase through it just to put more distance between them. Then, before he could even process what he was doing, he swiftly slid away from the former nation, darted next to Veneziano, and promptly hid behind him, using his younger brother as a human shield against the albino.

The Northern nation jolted in surprise, causing some of the water to spill onto the floor. "Romano?! What the—" he exclaimed, attempting to turn toward the other half of Italy. However, the dark-brunette quickly stopped him, steering him back around.

"Don't move." the Southern nation hissed, his voice sharp with urgency. Italy's expression twisted in a mix of confusion and concern, his brows knitting together as he tried to make sense of what was going on. Despite his uncertainty, he complied and remained firmly in place.

Prussia froze for a moment, his eyes widening in surprise as he looked at South Italy. A flicker of something unreadable passed over his face—hesitation, uncertainty, or perhaps something else entirely. He seemed to waver before taking a cautious half-step forward.

The instant he moved, however, Romano flinched so hard that Veneziano, startled by the sudden reaction, let out a sharp yelp and fumbled with the glass, spilling even more water onto the kitchen tiles.

"Romano!" Italy exclaimed, struggling to keep his balance as the older Italian clung to him as if his life depended on it.

"Shut up!" the Southern half of Italy snapped through gritted teeth, his voice unsteady. He shot a sharp glare at his brother before turning it toward the former nation.

In a matter of seconds, the German's expression shifted to something more startled, something almost… wounded. His posture stiffened as he barked out a laugh, though it lacked its usual liveliness. “Oof, what, am I that scary or somethin’?” he joked, rubbing the back of his neck.

But Romano didn’t laugh. Didn’t even acknowledge the attempt. Instead, he shrank further behind Veneziano, his fingers clutching the fabric of his brother’s shirt so tightly that they trembled.

That was the moment Prussia’s expression completely fell. His red eyes softened with regret, and his shoulders sagged slightly. “...Oh,” he murmured, his voice quieter this time. His gaze dropped to the floor for a brief moment before returning to Romano. “I, uh… I didn’t mean to freak you out.”

South Italy remained silent, simply staring at Prussia as his heartbeat pounded violently against his ribs. He knew he was being ridiculous, making an even bigger fool of himself than he already had, but he couldn’t help it. The sheer stress Prussia was causing him was overwhelming.

He hated this. He hated this so much. Once again, the former nation was pulling that infuriating act—pretending he actually cared, standing there looking all guilty as if he wasn’t the very reason Romano felt like stabbing himself in the chest with a spatula. Ugh!

Romano scowled deeply, sucking in a sharp breath as if he needed extra air for what he was about to say, and honestly, he did. He felt so awful he wasn’t even sure how he was still standing.

Exhaling in a strained but forceful voice, the Southern nation snapped, “Go to hell!” his hazel eyes narrowing dangerously at the albino.

At those words, the Germanic nation went completely still. For a moment, he just stood there, as if struggling to fully process what he had just heard. His mouth parted slightly, as if he were about to say something, but then he hesitated, clamping it shut once more. The silence between them grew heavier until his brows furrowed, frustration flickering across his face. Running a hand through his hair, Prussia let out a heavy sigh.

“Oh, come on!” he groaned, irritation lacing his voice. “I’m not gonna do anything! I just want to know what the hell is wrong with you!” he burst out, his hands clenching into fists. His crimson eyes locked onto the older Italian, frustration burning in his gaze. “Why do you always run away from me?”

Romano’s panic only worsened at that, alarm bells ringing loudly in his head. He had feared this—dreaded it—and now that the words he never wanted to hear had finally been spoken, he had no idea what to do.

He didn’t want to talk. He refused to talk, especially with Prussia of all people. What were they even supposed to discuss? That he couldn’t stop overthinking everything, twisting every little thing Prussia did into something bad? That he couldn’t sleep because his own thoughts wouldn’t leave him alone? That he was terrified Prussia was just messing with him to entertain himself?

Was that what Prussia wanted? To see him even more pathetic than he already was? To watch him break?

“Romano...?” Italy suddenly spoke up, snapping the hazel-eyed man out of his thoughts. “What's he talking about...?"

Hearing his brother’s words, Romano let out a string of curses under his breath. Fuck. He had wanted to keep whatever the hell was going on between him and Prussia far away from Veneziano. It was stupid, ridiculous, and the last thing he needed was his younger brother meddling to “fix” things. The thought of Veneziano trying to push him into some kind of friendship scheme with Prussia made his skin crawl. God, that would be awful.

He had planned to handle this himself, to just ignore the bastard and move on. But, of course, Prussia had other plans. How could he be such a damn jerk?

"Non lo so! Sta dicendo sciocchezze! (I don't know! He's spewing nonsens!)" South Italy exclaimed, trying to keep his voice steady and convincing. But despite his efforts, he sounded more desperate than anything else.

Even though Prussia didn’t understand what Romano had said, he seemed to pick up on the fact that he was denying everything, and that only made him look even more pissed off. Without a word, he took another step forward, attempting to move past Veneziano to get to Romano.

But the southern nation wasn’t having it. No way in hell was he letting Prussia get anywhere near him. Not anymore.

With a forceful tug, Romano immediately yanked Veneziano along with him, keeping him between himself and the ex-nation like a protective barrier. The sudden movement startled the younger man, making him let out a surprised yelp.

“Are you serious?!" the albino snapped, his crimson eyes narrowing in frustration, one practically twitching. He tried to maneuver around the light-haired brunette, but every time he moved, Romano immediately shifted Veneziano along with him.

The Northern nation’s eyes widened, panic creeping into his expression as the two men kept shuffling around with him. He fumbled with the glass in his hand, his grip unsteady, causing more water to slosh over the rim and spill onto the floor. “Wait—wait—guys—stop—!” he stammered, his voice rising in alarm.

Prussia’s expression contorted with even more irritation as he shot the younger Italian a sharp glare. “Little Italy, move!"

“AH!" Veneziano yelped, his face paling as he found himself uncomfortably close to the furious German. "I want to, but—but—" he stuttered, panic creeping into his voice as he struggled to find the right words. However, before he could say anything else, Romano abruptly cut him off.

"Screw off, bastard!" the dark-haired brunette spat, his tone dripping with venom.

That was the final straw for Prussia. His patience snapped, and without hesitation, he reached forward, gripping onto Veneziano—not harshly, but firmly—determined to pull him aside so he could finally face Romano without interference.

Romano, of course, wasn’t about to let that happen. His grip tightened, and with a sharp tug, he yanked Veneziano right back toward him. The sudden force made the younger Italian stumble slightly, his body swaying unsteadily between the two as he was pulled in opposite directions.

"Wha—?! Wait!!” Veneziano yelped, his head spinning as he found himself trapped in the middle of their ridiculous tug-of-war. Completely disoriented and unsure of how to diffuse the situation, he struggled to think of a solution. But with everything happening so fast, the overwhelming dizziness took over. Left with no other option, he did what he always did when he panicked—he called for Germany.

"GERMANYYY!!” Veneziano cried out in desperation.

Not even a second later, heavy footsteps pounded into the room as Germany stormed in, his expression showing a hint of concern. However, the moment his gaze landed on the scene before him, his expression hardened into something sharp and furious. Without a moment’s hesitation, he grabbed Veneziano, yanking him out of both Romano and Prussia’s grip, making the pair jolt in surprise.

"What the hell is going on here?” Germany demanded, his voice sharp as he narrowed his eyes at the two culprits responsible for Italy’s distress.

The Southern nation blinked in shock at the younger German before his surprise quickly shifted into unease, and he cursed under his breath. Damn it. The last thing he needed was Germany getting involved too. It would only make things worse. If Prussia started running his mouth to his brother about everything, Romano would be in even deeper trouble than he already was. He had to get out of here. And he had to do it now.

"Germany!" Italy suddenly cried out, looking as if he were about to shed tears of joy upon seeing the Western nation. Without a second thought, he abandoned the glass on the counter and latched onto the blond’s arm, practically melting against him. "Romano and Prussia started fighting over something, and I didn’t know what to do!"

Romano stiffened at his brother’s words, his stomach twisting uncomfortably as if he had just swallowed a handful of rocks. You idiot! Why would you say that?! he thought in pure horror, his throat tightening as bile threatened to rise. He shot a sharp glare at Veneziano, frustration and panic swirling inside him. Didn’t he understand that this was the last thing Romano wanted?!

Realizing his mistake, Veneziano quickly added. "But please, don’t be mad!"

Germany, however, did the exact opposite of what Italy had hoped. He got very mad. His sharp blue eyes flickered between Romano and Prussia before settling on the albino, fixing him with a glare so intense it could cut through steel.

"Are you kidding me, bruder?!" the blond burst out, his voice thick with irritation. "Ich dachte, ich hätte dir gesagt, du sollst dich nicht in sein Geschäft einmischen! (I thought I told you not to mingle in his business!)"

The former nation let out a frustrated groan, clearly growing irritated with the constant reprimands. "How about you stay out of mine for a change?!" he snapped, his brows furrowing in annoyance.

That seemed to be the wrong thing to say, because in an instant, the two Germans started bickering in their native language, tossing jumbled words at each other like they were nothing.

This was... not going well. Yeah. This was definitely not going well at all.

Romano couldn’t shake the feeling that he should have just stayed in his room and suffered in silence. Coming down here had been completely pointless. Even now, he wasn’t going to get that stupid glass of water. Damn himself for being so pathetic that he needed water just to swallow a few pills, like some helpless kid.

Shaking his head, the Italian snapped himself out of his thoughts. No, he didn’t have time for this right now—he needed to get out of here as soon as possible.

With everyone distracted, the Southern nation swallowed down the sickening anxiety twisting in his gut and carefully took a step back. Then another. And another. Before he knew it, he was nearly out of the kitchen. But just as he was about to bolt, a hand suddenly clamped around his wrist, stopping him in his tracks.

“Got you!”

Romano jerked violently, snapping his gaze to the person who had grabbed him. And, to his not-so-great surprise, but to his absolute horror, it was Prussia. Because of course, it had to be Prussia. Why would he ever leave Romano alone when he could instead pester and torment him endlessly?

Prussia’s grip on his wrist tightened, as if he knew the Southern nation would bolt the moment he let go, and he was right. That was exactly what Romano wanted to do, especially now. But before he could even think of escaping, Prussia’s crimson eyes met his hazel ones, gleaming with a triumphant glint.

South Italy's eyes widened involuntarily, and a chill ran through his veins, turning his blood to ice.

Fuck.

FUCK.

No! Why was everything going so horribly wrong? Why couldn’t the universe, just this once, let him have what he wanted and leave him alone? Why did he have to suffer like this? And why, of all people, did Prussia—damn him and his stupid persistence—have to be the one tormenting him like this? Why?

Romano’s gaze dropped to the hand gripping his wrist tightly, and he tried to pull away, but his body refused to obey. It was as if his limbs no longer belonged to him. As if he had lost control over them entirely.

From the corner of his eye, he noticed that his brother and Germany had moved closer, subtly shifting until they were surrounding him. The realization made his chest tighten. The Southern nation felt trapped with no way out.

His heartbeat pounded against his ribs, each pulse sharper, more erratic than the last. The world around him began to blur, the voices around him warping into distant, muffled echoes. He could see them speaking—Germany’s stern expression, Veneziano’s worried gaze—but their words never reached him. The only thing consuming his mind was panic. Pure panic.

This was too much. Far too much. Even for Romano, who was practically used to panicking over everything. But this, this was something else entirely. He didn’t want to endure it any longer. He couldn’t.

His lip trembled before he bit down, hard. The sharp taste of copper flooded his mouth, but he barely noticed. His hands shook, his head hurt, and his eyes burned.

You know how they say that when people are scared or upset, they often redirect that fear into anger because anger feels stronger and more in control? Well, that’s exactly what Romano did. Because truthfully, that was all he knew how to do. Vulnerability wasn’t his style, but rage? That was easy. It was second nature. And so, like some twisted defense mechanism, in the span of a heartbeat, his panic morphed into something else. Something raw. Something seething. Something ugly.

Rage.

A rage deeper, hotter, more visceral than anything he had ever felt surged through him, and before he could stop himself, he snapped.

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!" Romano yelled, his voice cracking slightly as it echoed through the house.

The sheer force of his outburst brought the bickering to an abrupt halt, all three nations turning to stare at him with startled expressions. But he didn’t care. Not one bit. He didn’t care if he was being too dramatic or too harsh, because they were all just as bad, and if they could piss him off and torment him, then he sure as hell could take his anger out on them.

Romano sucked in a sharp breath, his scowl deepening. "All of you, shut the fuck up." this time, his voice was quieter, but he made damn sure it carried just as much venom as before.
He didn’t wait for a response. He didn’t need one. His focus snapped to Prussia, who still had a hold of his wrist. Romano jabbed a finger in his face, making the albino blink those stupid red eyes in shock.

"And YOU—fucking you—get your damn hand off of me!" he snarled, the words ripping from his throat, raw and ragged. With a violent yank, he tore his arm free, putting so much force into it that he nearly stumbled back.

The Southern nation gritted his teeth, his chest rising and falling in ragged breaths as his entire body trembled with fury.

"Fratello, what's—" Veneziano started, his voice laced with concern and surprise, but Romano didn’t let him finish.

"Don't you fucking ‘fratello’ me!" the older Italian seethed, his glare sharp and menacing as he leveled it at his younger brother. "This is your fault!" the words tore out before he could stop them.

Veneziano’s eyes went wide, his mouth falling open in shock, as if Romano had just struck him across the face.

"My fault...?" the Northern nation echoed. His brown eyes searched Romano’s, desperately trying to understand what his older brother meant. But all he found was pure fury.

"YES!" Romano shouted, completely ignoring the flicker of hurt beginning to show on his brother’s face. "Why the hell did you have to drag me to this awful place?!" his voice was raw, strained from the force of his anger.

He paused for just a moment, sucking in a sharp breath before exhaling as if he had been drowning and only now surfaced for air. "I HATE it here!"

At that, the Northern nation seemed to freeze, his face twisting in shock, as if he couldn’t quite comprehend what Romano had just said. For a moment, he simply stood there, stunned, until the shock faded from his expression, giving way to saddens.

His lips parted slightly, but no words came—only a shaky breath. His shoulders sagged, and his eyes, shimmering with unshed tears, held nothing but pain. When he finally found his voice, it was barely above a whisper. "...What?"

The Southern half of Italy only narrowed his eyes into sharp, dangerous slits. "You heard me." he hissed through gritted teeth, his voice low and seething before it rose again, harsher, louder. "I hate it here! I HATE Germany!"

His words seemed to make his younger brother look even more broken, and even Germany cast an uneasy glance at him. For a brief second, the older Italian almost reconsidered what he was about to say.

Almost.

"This shitty country hasn’t done a damn thing to help me with my fucking problem! It’s only made everything a thousand times worse!" South Italy snapped, practically fuming.

The younger Italian flinched at the confession, his body tensing as if the words had physically hit him. His hands clutched at his chest, fingers twisting into the fabric of his shirt as if to hold himself together, but it was useless. "I- I thought-" he tried to respond, stuttering over his words.

"You thought nothing! That's what you fucking thought!" the hazel-eyed man all but shouted in response.

His harsh words and aggressive behavior toward Italy seemed to finally make Germany grow more defensive, prompting him to step in at last. "Romano, that's—"

"Fuck you, Germany! Go to Hell!" Romano snapped, cutting him off before he could even finish his sentence. His glare was razor-sharp, burning with fury, making Germany frown, clearly not expecting such an intense reaction.

The Southern nation didn’t stop there. He spun around, his gaze locking onto Prussia, who looked just as tense and stunned as his brother. The moment Romano’s eyes landed on him, the former nation visibly stiffened even more.

"And fuck your stupid brother too!" South Italy spat, his voice dripping with venom as he shot Prussia a deadly glare. "Fuck you!"

The former nation winced at that, shifting his eyes at Veneziano who looked like he was about to burst into tears, and Germany, who looked like he was torn between trying to argue with Romano again or comfort his lover, before he fixed his gaze back on the raging brunette and raised his hands in slow surrender. "Ok... how about you calm down and then we can-"

“Shut up!" Romano cut him off, his voice trembling. “Just—shut the hell up, for once!” he exclaimed, prompting the albino to take a step back in surprise. "You only know how to fucking talk! Dio!"

The hazel-eyed man ran a hand through his hair before dragging it down his face in frustration, his fingers pressing hard against his skin. A low groan escaped him as he suddenly kicked the floor.

"You are the fucking worst!" the Southern half of Italy shouted. "Ever since I got here, all you’ve done is torment me!" he glared at the ex-nation with such raw hatred and contempt that it felt as if Prussia had committed some unforgivable crime—like he had taken someone dear to Romano, rather than just tried to speak to him. "I hate you so much!" the hazel-eyed man continued, his words like poison, making the former nation grimace. "Why can't you just leave me the hell alone?!"

His words made the albino’s expression grow even more strained, and for once, he didn’t look like he wanted to push the brunette's buttons.

That should have been enough. It should have satisfied Romano. He had shouted, thrown out harsh words, and let out some of his frustration.

But it wasn’t enough.

Not when it came to Prussia.

It didn’t satisfy the burning resentment clawing at his chest. It didn’t come close. He needed more.

And so, before he could stop himself, before he could even process the weight of the words forming on his tongue, they were already out.

"Why the hell are you even still here?" Romano asked, his voice quieter this time but dripping with far more venom than his earlier screams. He tilted his head slightly, the gesture almost mocking.

The former nation faltered, blinking in mild confusion as he tried to grasp what the shorter man meant. "Uh... What?" he muttered, furrowing his brows as he glanced around, as if the answer to Romano’s question might somehow come to him. "Here in the kitchen or...?"

The Southern nation’s eyes darkened as he narrowed them. "You have nothing," he growled, his voice dropping to something low and almost dangerous. “No land. No people. No nothing." his tone was cold and cruel, each word meant to cut deeper than the last. "You should be gone. Dissolved. Dead, just like your country." he remarked, staring at the Prussian with pure, unfiltered hatred. "And you know what?" his lip curled into something between a sneer and a grimace, but there was no humor in it, only bitterness. "It'd be better for everyone if you were."

Prussia didn’t react right away. He stood there, frozen, as if the words had yet to sink in. He blinked once, then twice, struggling to process them. Then, all at once, his composure crumbled. His shoulders slumped, his face drained of color, and his red eyes, once alight with mischief, pride, and confidence, were now hollow, stripped of everything but pain.

That wasn’t the reaction Romano had been expecting… Well, he had been expecting some kind of response, just not this.

He had seen people throw cruel words at Prussia before, but never once had he seemed hurt or offended. He always fought back, because that was just the kind of person the former nation was. He was supposed to get angry, to snap back, to give Romano an even bigger excuse to yell and vent his own frustration. But there was no anger in Prussia’s expression, none of the fire Romano had anticipated. No, he just looked wounded. Utterly wounded.

The fury burning inside Romano wavered, the heat of it flickering and twisting into something colder. Guilt

The Italian had seen the ex-nation in pain before—wounded, bruised, injured—back when war was still a thing, and nations bore the scars of their countries' destruction. But like this? Never. This was different. He didn’t just look hurt. He looked completely devastated.

Had his words really been that hurtful? It wasn’t like he had actually meant them or wanted them to come true. He had only wanted to make himself feel better. Besides, plenty of others had probably said similar things to Prussia before, so he shouldn’t be this affected by what Romano had said… Right? He hadn’t gone too far… had he?

Sure, he must have struck a nerve... Prussia probably wasn’t fine with losing everything, with no longer being a nation, with living in his brother’s shadow while slowly being forgotten. Hell, Romano knew how that felt. But it couldn’t have been that bad, not enough to break someone as arrogant and insufferable as the ex-nation, certainly not enough to reduce him to… to whatever this heartbreaking, miserable display was.

The older Italian scanned the albino’s face, searching for any trace of anger, resentment, irritation, or anything that would prove his words had only mildly bothered him rather than truly hurt him. But there was nothing. No frustration, no defiance, just pure anguish, as if he’d been stabbed in the chest over and over again.

No… there was no way South Italy’s words had actually hurt the ex-nation. Prussia had to be pretending. He had to be! The guy was known for joking around, for being overly dramatic just for the fun of it. Yes, that had to be it.

But as the Southern nation continued staring into those deep red eyes, it was becoming painfully clear that wasn’t the case.

Something inside Romano twisted, a horrible, sinking feeling clawing at his chest and churning his stomach in the most nauseating way. He sucked in a breath, but suddenly, breathing felt so much harder, like his lungs refused to cooperate.

This was supposed to make him feel better. It was supposed to make everything feel less overwhelming. It was supposed to calm him down. But it didn’t. There was no satisfaction, no sense of relief like he had expected after spitting out such cruel words. All he felt was guilt. Overwhelming, crushing guilt.

Oh God.

He felt awful.

How could he say something like that?

Something so heartless and cruel. How could he sink so low and use the former nation's only real weakness and rub it in his face?

And not just that, but to wish death upon him. Death!

The realization made him feel sick to his stomach.

He hated the bastard, sure, but death? That was too far. That was cruel, even for Romano. Too cruel. No one deserved that. No one. Not even Prussia who was the most annoying person Romano had ever met.

The Italian gritted his teeth, suddenly feeling like the world around him was slowly crumbling, and he was trapped in the middle, waiting to collapse along with it. His hands started trembling again, or had they been shaking this entire time? He couldn’t tell. All he knew was that the trembling was worse now, violent and uncontrollable. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t make it stop. He couldn’t even curl his fingers into fists.

Fuck.

He had fucked up really, really badly.

Romano needed to… he needed to fix this. Apologizing wasn’t something he did—never had been, never would be—but just this once, he could make an exception. Even if the words felt like fire on his tongue every time he tried to force them out. He just couldn’t stand looking at the white-haired German’s pitiful face.

The dark-brunette parted his lips, unsure of what to say or how to say it, only knowing, deep down, that he had to say something. He had to take it back. He had to apologize.

He tried to speak, he really did, but his throat felt like it was tightening, constricting so much that not a single sound could get out. Even breathing had become a struggle, each shallow inhale catching in his chest as if his own body refused to let him fix the damage he had done.

The man lifted a hand to his neck, fingers clawing at his skin, nails digging into the tanned flesh as if he could tear away the pressure suffocating him. But it wasn’t working. No matter how hard he tried, the tightness wouldn’t ease. He couldn’t speak.

A long, heavy silence settled between the four nations, thick and suffocating, so tense and dense it felt almost tangible. It stretched on until the former nation finally shattered it with a loud, almost shaky exhale.

"Alright..." the albino murmured—a single word, empty of anger, empty of anything, just raw, quiet hurt. His voice was hoarse and hollow all at once, sending a shiver down the Southern nation's spine and making his heart sink. And then, before Romano could even process it, the German simply lowered his head and turned away. He started walking, and as he passed the Italian—much to his growing horror—the former nation lifted a hand to his face, covering his eyes as if… as if he was about to cry.

What?

Prussia didn’t cry. By the ex-nation’s standards, that was anything but ‘awesome.’ There was no way he was actually crying over what Romano had said… right?

Oh My God.

No, no, no.

What had he done?

Romano felt his heart splinter into a thousand jagged pieces, his guilt intensifying tenfold as he turned around, watching helplessly as Prussia left the room in one swift motion. Moments later, the sound of a door slamming shut echoed through the air.

South Italy stared blankly at the now-empty space where the ex-nation had stood just moments ago, blinking slowly, overwhelmed with regret.

He had wanted Prussia to leave him alone, to stop trying to pry into his personal life and just keep his distance from him, but he hadn't wanted it be like this.

All he had wanted was for Prussia to step back, to let him breathe, to give him enough space so he could finally relax, stop feeling so on edge, and focus on fixing his damn sleeping problem. That was all. He had just wanted to fix his insomnia. He hadn’t wanted anything else... just to sleep. To stop feeling so exhausted all the time. To know what it was like to have energy again. To feel like himself again. To feel like living again.

He really, truly hadn’t wanted to hurt the former nation.

But everything was just too much for Romano. The stress, the pressure, the exhaustion—it was suffocating. He just couldn’t handle it. He couldn’t.

Suddenly, the Southern nation felt his eyes sting, too many emotions welling up in his chest, overwhelming and unbearable, making the ache in his chest grow sharper with each passing second.

Desperate to keep the tears at bay, he held his breath and turned to his younger brother for comfort, for validation, for something, anything, to assure him that this wasn’t his fault, even if it was a lie. He needed reassurance. His brother always sided with him, always had his back, even when Romano was being irrational. And right now, he needed that more than ever.

But the moment his gaze landed on the other half of Italy, his stomach dropped. Instead of comfort, instead of relief, he felt worse.

Veneziano didn’t spare a single glance at Romano. Instead, he stood frozen, staring in the direction Prussia had just left, his wide brown eyes filled with shock and distress. His entire body was rigid, unmoving, and a trembling hand was clasped tightly over his lips.

Oh.

If even Veneziano was reacting like this—silent, shaken, not even trying to defend him—then Romano had truly screwed up. And honestly, why would Veneziano even want to defend him right now? Romano had hurt him too, throwing the blame onto him, accusing the poor Northern nation for his own frustration and distress—

Ah…

 

That's right.

He had snapped at him too. It wasn’t just Prussia he had completely messed things up with, it was his own brother as well. The one person who had always stood by him, always tried to help him, always forgiven him no matter how harsh his words got. And yet now, even he couldn’t look at Romano.

Oh...

Romano had actually been... cruel.

That realization hit him like a punch to the gut, sending a sharp jolt through his chest. His jaw tightened, muscles clenching with the effort to keep his emotions in check, while his teeth dug into his tongue to silence the sobs threatening to spill out. The air around him turned heavy, pressing down on his lungs like an iron weight, making each breath feel labored and uneven. His own skin felt suffocating, as if it had shrunk two sizes too small, trapping him in a body that no longer fit.

That confirmed it. Romano was, without a doubt, a terrible person. The worst to have ever walked the earth. Cruel. Heartless. All he knew how to do was hurt others. It was no surprise that no one liked him. How could they? How could anyone find even a shred of reason to care for someone as awful as him? No wonder he was hated when compared to his brother—there was nothing about him worth loving, only reasons to despise him. And he… he despised himself too. He truly, deeply hated himself.

The words rang louder in his head, repeating over and over in an endless loop. Each repetition pounded against his skull, drowning out everything else. The world around him blurred at the edges, colors bleeding into one another, shapes twisting and smearing as if reality itself was tearing apart. His heart hammered in his chest, too fast, each beat erratic and uneven, as if fighting to stay within his chest.

The hazel-eyed man felt a single tear slip down his cheek, tracing a slow path along his jaw before dropping to the floor with a faint tap that echoed in the silence. A shaky hand rose to his cheek, brushing away the damp trail, but before he could stop them, more tears welled up and spilled over. He squeezed his eyes shut, pressing the back of his hand against his face in a desperate attempt to wipe them away. He felt so pathetic.

The dark-haired brunette sucked in a shaky breath, though it barely sounded like one—more of a weak, uneven sniffle. His lips trembled, his chest felt tight, and all he wanted was to let himself fall to the ground, curl into a ball, and cry until there was nothing left inside him. And he was about to. He didn’t care anymore.

But before he could surrender to the overwhelming weight pressing down on him, a sudden force yanked him backward. A tight grip seized the front of his shirt and wrenched him with such brutal force that his sense of direction disappeared completely.

Before he could process what was happening—before he could even see who or what had just crashed into him—his back slammed against the wall. Hard.

The impact sent a violent shock up his spine, knocking the breath from his lungs. His head snapped forward, then back again, colliding with the wall so brutally that a strangled gasp tore from his lips. Pain exploded through his skull, a blinding, searing sensation that made it feel as though his brain had been rattled inside his head and his very skull had fractured.

It hurt. So much. So, so much. But Romano was too shocked to even react. His vision blurred into darkness, and a deafening ringing filled his ears. He tried to breathe, tried to force air into his lungs, but nothing came. It felt as though something heavy was crushing him, refusing to let him breathe.

What the hell was going on?

The dizzy Italian sluggishly craned his neck, his hazy hazel eyes drifting downward as his vision wavered, splitting into two before slowly merging back into one. Romano blinked against the stinging moisture blurring his vision, his gaze landing in confusion on a strong arm holding him firmly against the wall. Slowly, painfully, he traced the arm upward, only to find himself face to face with… Germany.

What?

Romano squinted, his brows knitting together as he struggled to make sense of what was happening. The blonde’s face was a blurry mess, but even through the haze, he could make out the anger twisting his features. Germany was yelling, his mouth moving furiously, but not a single word reached Romano’s ears.

The German was mad. Really mad.

For a moment, with his head still spinning, Romano couldn’t grasp why. But as the Germanic nation continued shouting muffled words at him, it clicked. Ah. Of course. He was furious because of what Romano had said to Prussia.

Fuck.

Of course Germany would be mad. Prussia was his brother. It only made sense that he’d completely lose it after hearing Romano tell him to die.

Well, Romano probably deserved it. He was a terrible person, and terrible people deserved pain. But this, this was too much. Germany was practically mauling him. Damn, it hurt. It hurt so much.

South Italy winced, his body tensing against the searing pain. Desperate to make it stop, he tried to force out some words, anything to tell the younger German to let go, to stop. But the moment he parted his lips to speak, the pressure against him suddenly intensified.

Romano’s eyes widened in alarm as Germany pushed him even harder against the wall, the crushing force against his chest stealing what little breath he had left. A strangled, wheezing cough tore from his throat, but no air followed.

He couldn’t breathe.

He couldn’t breathe at all.

The Southern nation had never truly feared Germany before. The man had always been careful to stay in Veneziano’s good graces, which meant he treated Romano with a certain level of patience, even if it was begrudgingly. Because of that, South Italy had always assumed that the German was all bark and no bite. But now, faced with the unrestrained fury in the Germanic nation's eyes, Romano realized just how horribly wrong he had been.

The Italian’s stomach twisted in sheer terror as a wave of icy coldness swept through him, freezing the blood in his veins. His heart pounded harder and faster until he could practically hear its frantic beating in his ears.

His fingers weakly clawed at Germany’s arm, shaking, useless. His legs threatened to give out beneath him, but there was nowhere to fall—Germany had him trapped, held firm in an iron grip that didn’t waver in the slightest. His vision blurred, his lungs burned, and his head throbbed as if it might split open.

Germany wasn’t just angry. He was seething with fury. He looked like he wanted to kill Romano.

A choked, desperate sound tried to escape the dark brunette's throat, but it barely came out at all, just a pathetic rasp of air that failed to reach his lungs. His nails dug deeper into the blonde’s arm, panic overtaking every part of him, his body burning, screaming for oxygen, but Germany wasn’t letting go. If anything, he was only crushing him more, making his ribs ache with the pressure.

Oh God.

Romano was actually going to die. He was going to be killed by his brother’s stupid boyfriend, all because he couldn’t keep his mouth shut. He had wanted to sleep, but not like this, not forever.

South Italy felt his eyelids grow heavier, his limbs turning unbearably sluggish, too heavy to lift. His grip on the blonde’s arm weakened until his hands slipped away, falling limply to his sides, ice-cold and lifeless. He could feel himself slipping away, his thoughts fading into a distant blur. Then, just as he was about to lose consciousness—suddenly—

"GERMANY!" Veneziano's voice shattered through the ringing in Romano’s ears, sharp and panicked, cutting through the suffocating haze.

The weight pressing against his chest loosened just the tiniest bit, but it was enough. Enough for him to register the sound of frantic footsteps pounding against the floor, growing closer, and then—

A blur of movement.

Through his darkened, spinning vision, Romano faintly made out the sight of his brother clinging desperately to Germany’s free arm, small hands gripping tight, pulling in frantic, messy jerks.

"Germany stop! Please stop!" Veneziano’s voice cracked, trembling with raw fear as he tugged helplessly at the blonde’s arm. "You're hurting mio fratello! He can't breathe!" he cried out in a single, frantic breath, his brown eyes wide and pleading as they locked onto his lover. "Please Germany, PLEASE!"

Romano barely had the strength to process what was happening, but even through his blurred vision, he caught the sudden shift in Germany’s demeanor. The Germanic nation’s blue eyes flickered from Veneziano back to him, and in that moment, the fury on his face melted into something else—realization. In an instant, the blonde released him and quickly stepped back.

Romano barely registered the absence of pressure against his chest before his body gave out. His back thudded against the wall, legs trembling violently beneath him, barely holding him upright. His hands reached out, pressing against the rough surface, grasping desperately for stability as his chest shuddered with the effort to suck in air.

A wheezing gasp tore from his throat, then another, and another. He coughed harshly, his lungs seizing as they fought to take in oxygen, his body shuddering violently with each attempt. His hands flew to his chest, fingers clutching at the fabric of his shirt as if that would help, as if he could physically force the air back in.

It hurt. It burned.

Romano forced himself to inhale, to steady the tremors wracking his body, but it wasn’t working. His hands still trembled, his breaths remained shallow and uneven, and his head throbbed like it was splitting open.

He didn’t want to be here.

He didn’t want to be anywhere near Germany.

He just wanted to leave, to go home, to be alone, to be anywhere far, far away from here.

He never should have set foot in this country. All he had done was make things worse for himself and everyone around him.

Romano's mind was a mess, spinning with too many thoughts, too many emotions, all screaming at him to get away.

“Romano…?” his brother’s hesitant voice barely reached him before a hand slowly extended toward him.

At that, Romano flinched violently, his body jolting back against the wall. His breath hitched, and his wide, panicked eyes shot up to meet Veneziano’s, making the younger Italian freeze in place.

Veneziano’s mouth parted slightly, his own eyes filled with shock, hurt flickering across his face as his arm hovered uncertainly between them. He hadn’t even touched him, but Romano had still reacted as if he’d been struck.

“Fratello...” Veneziano tried again, his voice softer this time, laced with hesitation and worry.

But Romano didn’t listen. He didn’t even try to.
His brother’s voice was nothing more than a distant hum, drowned out by the pounding in his head and the single, desperate thought looping through his mind—he couldn’t stay here. He needed to get away, to be alone, far from everything and everyone.

Before he could fully process it, his body moved on instinct. A surge of adrenaline shot through him as he pushed himself up on unsteady legs, his knees nearly giving out beneath him. He barely managed to catch himself, his hands gripping the wall for support, but he didn’t stop. He couldn’t. Gritting his teeth, he forced himself forward, shoved away from the wall, and ran.

His movements were clumsy, his legs unsteady beneath him, and his sight dimmed with every step. But none of it mattered. All that mattered was getting away.

He stumbled up the stairs, his breath ragged, every step feeling uncoordinated, desperate. But he didn’t look back.

He didn’t want to look back.

Veneziano stood frozen, his hand still lingering in the air, his wide brown eyes locked on the spot where Romano had just been before flickering toward the now-empty staircase. He inhaled, then exhaled, a shaky breath slipping past his lips as he slowly lowered his trembling hand. His fingers quivered slightly, and his mouth felt unbearably dry, so dry he couldn’t even swallow.

For a long, painful moment, he didn’t move. Then, his lips trembled, his vision blurred, and his eyes began to well with tears.

A small, broken cry threatened to escape him, but before he could make a sound, a sudden, violent slam echoed behind him, something striking hard against a solid surface. The sharp noise made him flinch, his whole body jolting in place.

"Scheiße!" Germany’s voice rang out through the room, cutting through the heavy silence. Veneziano spun around, his heart skipping a beat, only to see his lover slightly hunched over, his fist clenched tightly against the table. His face was contorted in a strained expression, his entire body tense with barely contained frustration.

Veneziano blinked in slight shock before pressing his lips into a tight line, his eyes flickering toward the stairs again before darting back to Germany. He didn’t know what to do.

He wanted to yell at Germany for what he had done to Romano and run after his brother to comfort him. But at the same time, he wanted to soothe his lover, to ask for his forgiveness for the cruel words Romano had thrown at Prussia. And Prussia… he needed to make sure he was okay. He wanted to apologize to him and explain that Romano had probably only said those things out of exhaustion and stress.

But he couldn’t do all of that. He didn’t know where to start. He wanted to fix everything, to somehow make this right, but how? This had never happened before. He had no idea what to do.

Veneziano bit his lower lip nervously, clenching and unclenching his fists in agitation. He stood there for a moment, thinking, hesitating, before swallowing dryly and slowly, almost reluctantly, making his way toward his lover.

"Uh... Germany...?" Italy’s voice came out quiet, filled with uncertainty. He didn’t know what else to say, didn’t know how to act.

Hesitantly, the light-haired brunette considered reaching out, placing a hand on the blonde’s arm, because at that moment, it was the only thing he could think to do. But before he could, Germany straightened up, running a hand through his hair, now messy and disheveled, nowhere near its usual neat and proper state.

"Ah, fuck!" Germany swore, looking more distressed than Veneziano had ever seen him. His usual composed demeanor was nowhere to be found. He let out another curse, this time in German, before his gaze dropped to Veneziano. The moment he saw the sheer distress on the Italian’s face, his own strained expression tightened even further.

“Scheiße, Italy— I…” he furrowed his brows, dragging a hand down his face, muffling his own words for a moment before his fingers curled into a tight fist. “I didn’t mean to— I was just… my brother, he—” Germany struggled to form a coherent sentence, the words catching in his throat. A sharp groan of irritation escaped him before, in a sudden burst of anger, he slammed his fist against the table again. "Damn it!”

Italy flinched again at the sudden outburst, his body instinctively curling in on itself. He wrapped his arms around himself, his shoulders tensing as he dropped his gaze to the floor.

"Ah, forgive me..." Germany said quickly, his frustration shifting to guilt the moment he took in the state of his lover. He silently cursed himself for letting his anger get the better of him.

A brief silence settled between them before a small, choked sob broke from Veneziano. Germany’s eyes widened as he watched the younger Italian begin to tremble.

"Veneziano—" the Germanic nation reached out hesitantly, but before he could do anything, another sob followed. Then another. And then, as if a dam had finally burst, Veneziano broke down completely, his quiet cries escalating into full-on weeping.

Tears streamed down his cheeks, his shoulders trembling with each sob. His arms wrapped tightly around himself, as if trying to keep himself together, but it was useless.

"It—It’s my fault," Veneziano choked out between sniffles, his voice trembling. "Romano was right… I caused all of this..."

The German's expression twisted in distress, his hands clenching at his sides. "Italy, no—you are the last person to blame for this!"

But Veneziano just shook his head violently, squeezing his eyes shut. "That’s not true!" he cried. "Romano he... he wasn’t feeling well, and I made him come all the way here, thinking I was helping him, but I—I just made everything worse!" his breath hitched as he hiccupped through his words, his entire body wracked with guilt. "Now he's hurt, you're hurt, Prussia's hurt, and it’s all because of me!"

Germany felt his heart sink at the sheer anguish in the Northern nation's voice. Without hesitation, he stepped forward and pulled the trembling Italian into his arms, holding him close as he rubbed soothing circles along his back.

Italy sobbed into his chest, his fingers weakly clutching at the blonde's shirt as he mumbled through choked breaths. "He didn’t mean it—Romano didn’t mean what he said… he's not okay… he isn't feeling well… he didn’t mean it..."

Germany paused for the slightest moment at that but said nothing before continuing to comfort Veneziano, his mind suddenly racing with thoughts he couldn't grasp or voice.

.
.
.

Once Romano reached his room, he shoved the door shut with unsteady hands, fumbling with the lock until it clicked into place. His entire body was trembling so violently it was a miracle he was still standing. He tried to make it to his bed, but the pain in his limbs left him too weak to take another step. His legs gave out beneath him, and he collapsed at the foot of the bed, his knees slamming against the hard floor.

One hand clutched desperately at the mattress, fingers digging into the fabric as if holding on for dear life, while the other curled into the rough fibers of the carpet. Everything hurt too much.

The Southern nation pressed his forehead against the wooden bedframe, eyes squeezed shut, his body curled in on itself. He should get up. He should at least try. But he couldn’t. He had no strength left, no will to fight against the exhaustion and agony running through him.

The man attempted to take a deep breath to steady himself, but his breathing was shallow and strained. Pain spread through his chest and lungs, and no matter how hard he tried, he could only draw in a small amount of air, as if something were still constricting him.

Screw him and his stupid mouth.

South Italy lifted the hand that had been gripping the carpet and brought it close to his face, weakly fanning himself in a desperate attempt to help with his breathing. His fingers trembled as he waved his hand, trying to create even the slightest breeze against his skin, but it did little to ease the tightness in his chest.

Balling his hand into a fist, he weakly struck the wooden frame of the bed before letting it slide down. He managed to suck in half a breath before a quiet sob escaped him. This time, he didn’t even try to hold back his tears. Instead, he let them well up in his eyes before spilling over, sliding down his face and dripping onto the carpet beneath him.

Romano wanted to sob loudly, to scream, to wail, to cry until his voice was raw and broken. But he couldn’t. His body was too drained, too beaten down, and his lungs too weak to grant him that release. Instead, his cries came out as silent, trembling half-gasps, barely audible even to himself. His shoulders shook violently, his breaths stuttering and uneven, but the only sound in the room was the faintest, almost imperceptible hitch in his irregular breathing.

"Stupid." he choked out in a whisper, his voice barely audible. “So stupid… worthless… useless… pathetic…”

The words tumbled from his lips, weak and trembling, but they felt like punches to his already shattered heart. He clutched at his arms, nails digging into his skin, but it did little to comfort him.

This was his fault. All of it. If only he had kept his mouth shut, stayed quiet, been better, been more like his brother, none of this would have happened. But he wasn’t like his brother. He was himself. His stupid, selfish, awful self. And for that, for simply being who he was, he was cursed. Cursed to be unlucky, to make mistakes and to suffer like no one else.

Why? Why did he have to be like this? Why couldn’t he just be better, damn it?!

Why...

He had just wanted to sleep... if only for a little...

...

Romano kept crying in silence, whispering to himself over and over again what a terrible person he was. His voice grew weaker with each repetition until his throat ran dry, and eventually, his words faded into nothing, leaving only faint, incoherent murmurs slipping from his lips.

Chapter Text

Romano had no idea how much time had passed since he’d curled up on the floor at the foot of the bed. However long it had been, his aching back made it clear that it had been too long. His body felt heavy and his limbs stiff from lying in the same position for what might have been hours.

He had cried harder than he ever had in his life—so much that, eventually, the tears just stopped coming, as if he had drained himself completely. Now, his eyes were dry and aching.

At least his breathing had steadied. He could inhale properly again, though there was still a faint sting in his chest. Whether it was real or just in his head, he didn’t know. He didn’t care. He was just grateful to be breathing like a normal person again... well, as grateful as he could be, given the circumstances.

But... after what he had done that was to be expected.

Romano let out a shaky sigh, fingers curling weakly against the fabric of his pants. He shifted slightly, wincing as a dull pain rippled through his muscles.

The room was silent. Too silent. So quiet that he could hear the cold wind outside, the faint creak of the walls, and the deafening roar of his own thoughts.

At some point—he wasn’t sure when—his brother had come to his room. He had knocked, rattled the door handle, his voice thick with worry as he pleaded to be let in. Veneziano begged him to talk, but Romano hadn’t answered. He hadn’t even tried.

Not because he didn’t want to.

Because he didn’t deserve Veneziano’s comfort. Not after hurting him like an idiot.

So he had stayed silent. Waited. Let Veneziano’s desperate words fall on deaf ears. And eventually, his brother had worn himself out and left.

South Italy exhaled, the sound almost echoing in the small room. He felt... awful. But honestly, it would be more concerning if he didn’t. Still, this was worse than anything he had ever felt before. He had thought he had reached his limit, that he had already experienced the worst of it. But he had been so, so wrong. Nothing compared to the ache consuming him now.

It was a tangled mess of guilt, sadness, regret, and even anger, though this time, it was aimed at himself rather than someone else. A terrible mix of emotions, all blending into one overwhelming mass of misery that gnawed at him from the inside like a disease, leaving him feeling weaker and weaker, like a man on his deathbed.

Romano wanted nothing more than to tear his heart out and stomp on it until it stopped beating, until he stopped feeling altogether. But that was impossible. So, instead, he had to endure the pain, just as he always had, ever since the moment he first opened his eyes in this ruthless world.

He still couldn’t believe the mess he had made, the cruelty he had shown to those who had done nothing but try to be kind to him. He had no idea how he would ever face them again. His brother probably wouldn’t be a problem, after all, it was his brother, and he was too forgiving for his own good. But Prussia and Germany? God, Romano would never be able to look them in the eyes again, let alone be in the same room with them. He’d never be able to visit Germany again, and he’d have to stop attending meetings altogether to avoid any conflict, especially since Germany was always there.

Veneziano could probably handle going to the meetings alone... After all, he was the better Italy, and everyone preferred him. By staying away, Romano would be doing everyone a favor. Yeah... his brother could manage their country, and Romano could just disappear somewhere in the South, far away, where his stupid mouth and terrible personality couldn’t hurt anyone anymore.

The thought made his chest tighten, but he didn’t try to push the pain away. He simply let it consume him and allowed himself to wallow in the bitterness because, frankly, that’s what he deserved.

Right now, Romano just wanted to go home. To buy a plane ticket to Rome, slip away in the dead of night without a word, and return to the one place that still felt safe. He had no idea how he was supposed to survive the rest of this stupid vacation, trapped under the same roof as the Germans. He was fairly certain he wouldn’t make it. It would kill him.

Romano pulled his knees closer to his chest and let out another sigh. What was he supposed to do? What could he do? He couldn’t stay locked in this stupid room forever—it wasn’t even his, it was Germany’s—but he also couldn’t face the others. And leaving wasn’t an option either, not when he knew he’d probably collapse before he made it anywhere. But staying? That felt impossible.

It was all just too much.

He let out a bitter scoff and shook his head at his own misfortune. Slowly, he lifted his head, grimacing at the dull ache in his stiff neck. He rubbed his swollen eyes with trembling fingers before rolling his head from side to side in a weak attempt to ease the tension

With a tired sigh, he leaned back, letting his head rest against the wooden bed frame to shift positions and stave off the growing soreness in his body. But the sharp jolt of pain that followed made him hiss and immediately lift his head again.

His jaw clenched, breath shaky as he curled in on himself, wrapping his arms around his knees and burying his face against them. Fine. What was a little more pain to him? It wasn’t like he wasn’t used to it by now.

For a while, he just sat there, listening to the wind outside as it rattled his window, more aggressive than before. He swallowed dryly, then pressed his cheek against his knee as if it were a pillow. His eyes burned, exhaustion dragging at his limbs, but even as he closed them, sleep refused to come.

Romano wanted to sleep so badly, not just to feel like a human again, or whatever the expression was, but to want to live again—if only for a moment. He wanted to forget his problems and dream away like he used to when he was younger, when Spain would pile a million chores on him that he’d never do because he’d always end up sleeping instead.

Ah, those were the days.

But now, sleep wasn’t something that came easily. Not unless he took something strong—something that could shut his system down completely, like those damn unprescribed insomnia meds he had been taking, the ones with more side effects than he cared to acknowledge.

Except... he couldn’t take them. Because, of course, he didn’t have any damn water.

How ironic.

Curse himself and his inability to swallow pills like a normal person.

Romano turned his head and opened his eyes, staring sadly at the desk in the corner of the room where his only hope of sleep rested. His bloodshot eyes fell on the small container, unsure whether to hate it or feel grateful for it. He was pretty sure he hated it, though, as it seemed to bring him nothing but misery.

"Ugh..."

Romano let his head loll to the side, eyes drifting to the half-open window. The sky was dark. It must’ve been late. He glanced around, searching for his phone. Not seeing it, he patted the space beside him. Nothing.

He adjusted his position and glanced to the right of the bed, spotting his phone on the floor. Too tired to get up, he grabbed the edge of the rug and dragged it, rumpling the fabric until the device was finally within reach. He picked it up, and the screen flickered to life.

4:46 AM.

Romano hissed at the brightness, squinting. Damn. It was late... or early. Either way, it was the kind of hour when most normal people were asleep—and that was the important part. Something he, as a normal human—well, nation—should have been doing too.

Romano stifled a groan, placing the phone back on the floor before burying his head in his hands, feeling utterly defeated. Another sleepless night. Fuck. How long had it been since he’d actually slept? A few days, at least. Maybe more. He wasn’t sure. His memory was hazy. Probably from the exhaustion. No—definitely from the exhaustion. He wondered how much longer he could keep this up, how many more days he could go without rest before it finally broke him. Would it kill him? Immortality could only do so much to keep him alive… God, he needed sleep.

The hazel-eyed man remained motionless for what seemed like an eternity, his fingers twitching slightly as they combed through his tangled hair. His eyes drifted back to the container on the desk, and he bit his lip, carefully considering his options.

Should he try...? Should he not?

Fuck it.

Taking a sharp breath, Romano gathered what little strength he had left and pressed his palms against the floor, attempting to push himself up. The instant he did, a sudden wave of dizziness washed over him, throwing the Southern nation off balance.

Before Romano could catch himself, he toppled backward, barely registering the brief fall before landing against the bed with a clumsy, unceremonious thud.

"Merda…" he rasped, his voice barely above a whisper, hoarse with exhaustion. His fists tightened around the fabric beneath him in frustration before he exhaled, trying to steady his nerves.

Gritting his teeth, Romano pushed himself up again, gripping the edge of the desk for support. He snatched the small container and flicked it open with a sharp motion of his thumb. Tilting it over in his hand, he let a couple of pills spill into his palm. For a brief moment, he simply stared at them. But then, with a sharp inhale, he tilted his head back and tossed them into his mouth, swallowing them dry.

Or, at least, he tried to.

The bitter chalkiness caught in his throat almost instantly, and before he could even process what was happening, he was choking. A sharp gag tore from his throat as his body rejected the pills, forcing them back out. They tumbled from his mouth, scattering uselessly across the floor.

Romano coughed harshly, leaning back against the desk as he pounded a fist against his chest, trying to steady his breath. When the choking finally subsided, frustration surged through him. Before he could stop himself, his hands flew to his face, nails digging into his skin as he dragged them down his face.

Why did he have to be so damn pathetic?

Damn it! Damn it! Damn it!

All he had to do was one simple thing—to swallow. It was something so basic, so instinctive, yet he couldn’t even manage that. Fuck!

Drawing in a shaky breath, the Italian forced himself upright, his fingers drumming anxiously against his pants.

Romano knew he shouldn’t push his luck any further, that he should just accept he wasn’t going to sleep and deal with it like a man. But he was just so exhausted—so unbearably exhausted—that he was desperate. He just wanted to shut down, to escape this damn reality he no longer wished to be a part of, even if only for a few hours. He wasn’t asking for much.

His gaze flickered to the pill bottle still within reach. Jaw tightening, he grabbed it and willed his unsteady legs to move, shuffling hesitantly toward the door.

His heart pounded against his ribs as he slowly unlocked it, cracking it open just enough to peer out. The house was dark and silent, stirring a faint sense of deja vu in him—as if he had done this before. And, in truth, he had.

Moving carefully, he leaned against the wall for support, dragging himself forward. Every step felt like walking on shattered glass, but he pushed through, biting the inside of his cheek to keep going.

When he reached the staircase, he gripped the railing tightly, using it to steady himself as he made his way down. His movements were slow, almost agonizing, but eventually, he reached the kitchen.

The kitchen was exactly as he had left it during his 'escape'. The table was slightly askew, and the chairs were out of place, far from the usual order that was always present in Germany's house.

The space brought back memories of what had happened, and Romano had to force himself to stay composed, resisting the urge to break down again.

Navigating the dimly lit space, he reached the counter and flicked on the light. The sudden brightness burned his tired eyes, making him squint, but he didn’t give himself time to adjust. Instead, he turned toward the cupboards, his sluggish mind struggling to recall where the glasses were stored.

With stiff movements, he opened one cabinet, then another, until he finally found them. He reached out, but his fingers trembled violently. He tried to steady his hand, willing it to cooperate, but his body refused to listen to him. Before he could secure a proper grip, his fingers spasmed, and the glass wobbled dangerously before slipping from his grasp.

A surge of panic shot through him. He lunged forward, desperate to catch it before it fell, but in his frantic attempt, his hand struck the others beside it. The entire row of glasses toppled forward. He scrambled to catch them—he really did—but he was so tired that his reflexes simply weren’t fast enough.

All he could do was watch helplessly as the glasses plummeted toward the floor.

The sharp, piercing sound of glass shattering against the tiles ripped through the kitchen, echoing in the silence. The shards scattered in every direction, some skidding across the floor, others glinting under the light before settling in a jagged mess at his feet.

Romano flinched at the sound, his body tensing so abruptly that the pill bottle slipped from his grasp.

Time seemed to slow as he watched it tumble to the floor, hitting the ground with a soft, hollow sound, sending the pills spilling out, white tablets mixing with the shards of broken glass.

For a moment, he just stood there, staring.

Seconds passed. Then more.

He didn’t move. Didn’t blink. His mind blank, as if it simply couldn’t process what had just happened.

Then, all at once, something inside him cracked.

Fucking of course something as unfortunate as this would happen to him. Why the hell not? Why would things go right for him when they could just go south? He was South fucking Italy after all, it was in his fucking name, so of course everything would go south for him. Why should he be allowed a moment of peace when he could just suffer?

Romano dropped to his knees, frantically sifting through the shattered glass in a desperate attempt to retrieve his pills. But the moment his fingers brushed against the sharp fragments, a sharp sting shot through his hand. He hissed, jerking it back instinctively.

A deep red streak marred his palm. The cut wasn’t deep, but blood was already welling up, trailing down his skin in thin crimson trails. A single bead dripped from his hand, landing on a shard of glass and staining it red.

His jaw clenched as he pressed his lips into a tight line, eyes squeezing shut. He held his breath, trying to swallow down the frustration burning in his chest. When he finally exhaled, it was shaky and resigned.

Romano leaned his head back, eyes drifting to the ceiling as if searching for some unseen force to give him an answer—some explanation for why he had to endure this. But the silence offered nothing. No response. No relief.

With a heavy sigh, he dropped his head, his gaze settling once more on the mess before him.

Stupid. He was so damn stupid!

He couldn't do one thing right! God!

His vision blurred for what felt like the hundredth time that day. He wanted to scream, to curse the universe, to destroy something, anything. But what was the point? The universe never listened. Nothing ever changed.

How could he have been so naive to think he'd actually sleep? That he might’ve managed to take his damn pills and rest his eyes, even for an hour? No, he should’ve known better. He should’ve just stayed in that dumb room and accepted his fate.

With a sharp inhale, he slammed his fist against the ground, uncaring of the glass beneath him. A fresh jolt of pain shot through his hand, but he barely flinched.

"Kill me..." The Southern nation mumbled in a strained voice, to no one in particular but himself. "Per favore, uccidimi e basta... (Please, just fucking kill me...)" he uttered again, his fingers curling into the glass-littered floor, more blood spilling between them.

Romano couldn't give a single damn tho.

Let it fucking bleed.

What did it matter anymore? Nothing mattered. Nothing had ever mattered. He wanted the world to end him already, to put him out of his misery.

His body trembled as fresh tears burned their way down his cheeks. It hurt—to cry, to breathe, to exist. Every part of him ached, as if he were using the last of his strength just to shed those tears, as if his body were forcing him to release the agony caged inside.

But he deserved this.

This was his punishment for being a selfish, cruel, ungrateful bastard. For treating everyone like they were against him.

This was karma—punishment for his failures, both as a person and as a nation. And there was nothing he could do but endure it until there was nothing left of him, until he was broken beyond repair... not that he wasn't already broken. Because whole people didn’t do the things he did. They didn’t act the way he acted. They did better. They didn’t make everyone loathe them. Unlike Romano.

The Italian brought his uninjured hand to his face, covering his eyes as he let himself cry. What was the point in holding it in anymore?

He was so lost in his misery that he didn’t hear the footsteps approaching. Didn’t register the presence of someone else in the room. Not until—

Clatter.

The sudden sharp sound jarred Romano from his quiet sobbing, his head snapping violently to the side. His tear-blurred eyes widened in shock as they locked onto the last person he expected to see.

Prussia.

What. The. Actual. Fuck.

The albino stood rigid near the wall, a painting knocked askew at his feet. But he paid it no mind. His crimson eyes were locked on Romano, wide with shock.

But the initial shock didn’t last long. His expression shifted, his brows furrowing, his fists clenching at his sides. A flicker of anger crossed his face. And yet—just as quickly as it came—it faltered.

His gaze dropped, taking in the shattered glass strewn across the floor, the scattered pills, and the fresh streaks of blood staining Romano’s hand. The sharp edges of his expression softened, shifting into something else.

Concern.

Romano blinked once. Then twice. His chest tightened, his heart slamming so violently against his ribs that, for a moment, he swore it would tear right through his chest.

AHHH!

Wait. That was not enough.

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Yeah. That was better.

Ok. What the hell?

Why was... what was he even... when had he...

Ugh!

Why was Prussia here?! At five in the morning, standing in the same room as Romano—right when he was at his absolute lowest, when he could barely hold himself together, and when facing the former nation was the last thing he wanted to do.

Romano's mouth went dry, his throat tightening as he stared at Prussia in pure shock, unable to tear his eyes away from him. For a painfully long moment, neither of them moved, simply staring at each other. Then, finally, the ex-nation shifted.

With a hesitant glance, he crouched down, picked up the fallen painting, and carefully placed it back on the wall, adjusting it until it hung perfectly straight (like the neat freak that he was). Only then did he turn back to Romano, who could do nothing but blink at him in stunned silence.

The former nation’s eyes shifted back to the broken glass on the floor, then to Romano. He looked like he was considering something, hesitating for a brief moment before finally seeming to decide. With caution, he started making his way toward Romano.

South Italy felt his soul leave his body.

Fuck.

He was not ready for confrontation.

He didn't want confrontation.

All he wanted was to disappear—to never have to face the former nation again and be reminded of just how cruel he had been.

Why was this happening to him?

Fuuuck.

Romano knew exactly what was coming. Prussia would lash out, throw every cruel word back at him—maybe even worse. He’d yell, call him pathetic, worthless. Maybe that wouldn’t be enough. Maybe he’d get physical, just like Germany had… and if he did, Romano wouldn’t fight it.

Whatever Prussia wanted to do, he’d take it. He deserved it. If Prussia wanted him dead, he wouldn’t stop him. It would be easier. Easier than this—easier than existing like this.

Romano squeezed his eyes shut, turning his head away as his body sagged like a puppet with its strings cut. He didn’t even bother wiping the fresh tears slipping down his face, dripping silently onto the shattered glass below.

He braced himself for the worst.

He sucked in a shaky breath, waiting, expecting pain, or shouting, or something—

But nothing came.

...

No yelling, no lashing out, no nothing. Actually... it was quieter than before.

Huh...?

Romano's heart pounded so loudly in his chest that he could barely hear anything else. He kept his eyes shut, too afraid to face whatever awaited him, but the silence—the sheer, suffocating silence—was unbearable.

Swallowing hard, he forced himself to crack one eye open. To his surprise, Prussia was crouching next to him, far closer than Romano was comfortable with. The sudden proximity nearly stole the breath from his lungs, sending a fresh wave of unease through him. He had to bite down on his tongue to keep himself from outright yelping.

Whatever Prussia was doing didn’t align with the script in Romano’s head, and it was stressing him the fuck out.

The former nation appeared fixated on the clutter strewn across the floor, his brows knitting together and his eyes narrowing as he took it all in. After a brief pause, he reached out and picked up the empty container that had once held Romano’s sleeping pills. As the albino inspected it, a sinking feeling settled in Romano’s chest, making him want to jump off a cliff.

So much for keeping his insomnia a secret. Now it was out in the open, and he felt like nothing more than a complete fool.

Before his thoughts could spiral any further, Prussia turned toward him, making Romano's stomach twist. He quickly looked away.

This was excruciating—more so than if Prussia would've punched him or yelled at him. Why wasn’t the former nation angry? Where was the fury he was supposed to feel? Why the hell was he so composed?

Suddenly, the albino shifted beside him, and Romano shut his eyes once more, gritting his teeth and tensing up like a brick wall, bracing for the ex-nation to lash out. But instead, he felt a hand gently take his bloodstained one, the touch so light it almost felt phantom-like.

The air was thick with tension for a moment, as the Southern nation felt his hand tremble in the other's surprisingly soft grip, before a sigh escaped the German.

"You're injured." Prussia muttered, his voice hoarse like he had just woken up... or perhaps hadn’t slept at all.

South Italy tensed even more.

No shit, Sherlock. Of course he was injured—his hand was literally covered in blood. But that wasn’t the issue.

What was important—or rather, worrying? Distressing? Nerve-wracking? Hell, all of them!—was why Prussia was even acknowledging this in the first place.

Agh! How could the former nation be so... so damn nice to him after everything? After all the things Romano had said, after he had made the Great Kingdom of fucking Prussia cry? How? Why?

The Italian didn’t reply. He wasn’t sure if he could speak without stumbling over his words or saying something stupid. Instead, he stayed quiet, focusing on keeping his heart from hammering out of his chest.

Then—before he could fully process what was happening—Prussia moved. His grip on Romano’s hand loosened, only for him to shift closer. And before the brunette had a chance to react, the German grabbed him by the forearms and, in an instant, yanked him to his feet, forcing a sharp breath from his lungs, nearly making him choke on it.

The Southern nation was just so shocked that the moment Prussia let go, he nearly stumbled back to the ground, forcing the albino to grab him again and keep him on his feet.

"Woah... uh." the former-nation stammered, a bit taken aback, before glancing around and clearing his throat. "You should sit down, er... not on the floor..."

Romano barely registered what was happening as Prussia led him to the couch in the living room and eased him down onto it. The moment he was seated, he averted his gaze, focusing on anything but the albino. His arms folded tightly across his chest in a rigid, defensive stance, though his injured hand remained awkwardly positioned, hovering slightly above his lap.

Prussia shifted uncomfortably in front of him, seeming unsure of what to do next. But Romano didn’t acknowledge him—he didn’t dare to do so. His eyes stayed fixed on the bland carpet beneath his feet, too afraid to lift his head and meet the other’s gaze.

A beat of silence passed before the former nation finally muttered, "Stay here," his voice oddly subdued. Then, without another word, he turned on his heel and walked away.

Romano didn’t move. He wanted to, he really did, but his body refused to cooperate. So he sat there, counting the patterns in the carpet, trying to distract his mind from the mess of emotions choking him.

In the background, he could hear Prussia rummaging through drawers and cabinets, the occasional clinking of glass and plastic breaking the silence. He flinched at the sound of a door creaking open, followed by more shuffling, but still, he didn’t look up.

Instead, he curled his uninjured hand into a tight fist against his arm, fingers twisting into the fabric of his shirt, desperate for something to keep him grounded.

Why wasn’t Prussia yelling at him already? Getting angry? Doing something that actually made sense?

This... this wasn't right.

Several minutes slipped by before the former nation finally returned. Romano barely registered his presence until the soft clink of something being set on the coffee table caught his attention.

Slowly, he lifted his head, peering out from behind his bangs. His stomach dropped. His empty bottle of pills.

Prussia nudged it slightly toward him, the gesture feeling almost mocking. Romano’s gaze snapped away. He didn’t want to look at that damned bottle.

More objects were placed on the table, this time further away, but he kept his eyes stubbornly downcast. Then, without a word, Prussia sat down beside him.

Romano tensed on instinct, his body screaming at him to either run or brace for impact. But, just like before, the ex-nation did nothing… bad.

Instead, he reached for something on the table, then gently took hold of Romano’s injured hand. The Italian winced. The touch was as careful as before—maybe even more so. It made his brain stutter. He felt Prussia tilt his hand slightly before the sharp sting of liquid met his skin—liquid that felt like disinfectant and likely was disinfectant.

South Italy sucked in a breath but didn’t pull away, staying as still as a statue while Prussia cleaned the wound and wrapped it in bandages. Once finished, the German let go, carefully placing his hand on the couch cushion.

Without hesitation, Romano pulled his hand close, tucking it against his chest alongside the other.

"That... uh, that better?" Prussia suddenly asked.

Upon hearing that, Romano furrowed his brows. Why the hell was Prussia asking him that? Why did it even matter to him whether Romano was feeling better or not? He shouldn't care. He really shouldn't... Why the hell was he even doing anything for him in the first place? None of it made any sense! Prussia wasn’t supposed to care. He should be mocking him him, making some dumb joke about how weak and pathetic he was. He should be angry with him. He should be furious.

But he wasn’t.

And Romano hated it. He hated it with every inch of his being.

Romano kept his eyes fixed on the floor, as if staring hard enough would somehow give him the answers he needed. He tried to hold himself together—tried so damn hard—but it was useless. He didn’t want to cry anymore. He was sick of crying. But that question—so simple, so stupid—ripped something open inside him, and before he could stop it, the tears returned.

They spilled down his face, his exhausted eyes burning, but the pain in his chest swallowed the ache in his eyes.

A sharp sob tore from his throat before he could bite it back, his whole body trembling. He clung to himself even tighter, as if that alone could keep him from falling apart. But it couldn’t.

Beside him, Prussia tensed, his red eyes widening. "H-Hey—" he started to reach out but hesitated, his fingers hovering uncertainly in the air. For a moment, he scrambled for something to say before finally giving Romano’s shoulder a light, awkward pat. "Uh... not better?"

Romano shook his head violently, every movement screaming 'no' as he fought to get his breathing under control—but it was useless. With a strangled breath, he buried his face in his hands, muffling his cries for a moment before suddenly whipping around to face the white-haired German, knocking his hand away in the process.

"What—" his voice broke as he lowered his hands, struggling to find his words before finally forcing them out. "What the hell is wrong with you?!"

At that, the former nation looked utterly baffled, blinking before tilting his head in clear confusion, though there was an unmistakable hint of unease in his expression. "Was... ? (What... ?)"

"Why are you doing this?!” Romano shouted, struggling to force a glare onto his face but barely succeeding.

The man in front of him parted his lips to speak, only to snap them shut again, his red eyes flickering to the side for the briefest moment before they shifted back to meet Romano’s hazel ones. "Doing what...?" he asked, sounding as though he had no idea what the Italian was referring to, which, in hindsight, was accurate—Prussia truly had no clue what Romano was talking about in that moment.

At those words, the Southern nation’s scowl deepened, the corners of his mouth pulling downward as his hands clenched into fists, his whole body tense with frustration.

"You—You—" he hissed, his voice shaking with anger. "How can you—" but the words caught in his throat, his thoughts too tangled to form a coherent sentence.

"Why are you—" Romano tried again, but, once more, the words refused to come.

"Ugh!" he groaned, lifting his leg and kicking the coffee table in front of him. The wooden structure wobbled slightly, its legs scraping against the floor.

Without another word, he dropped backward onto the couch, pressing the heels of his palms against his eyes. For a long moment, he sat there in silence, struggling to gather his thoughts. Then, as if suddenly struck by an idea, he snapped back up.

"THIS!" Romano all but shouted, shoving his bandaged hand toward the albino’s face, causing him to instinctively lean back in surprise.

"Uhhh..." the ex-nation mumbled, his expression growing even more confused and uneasy. "I..." he started, scrambling for a response that might ease Romano’s distress, but his mind remained completely blank. In the end, all he could manage was a baffled, "Huh?"

The former nation's lack of a real response only seemed to frustrate Romano further, prompting him to curse in Italian as he yanked his hand back and pressed it against his face, covering his mouth. "Mio Dio, you're so stupid!" he hissed, his voice muffled and raspy.

At that, the albino blinked in even more confusion before the insult finally sank in, causing him to furrow his brows in slight offense. He thought for a moment, tempted to say something back, but before he could, the Italian sniffled, making him hesitate and reconsider speaking.

Romano wiped furiously at his face, his sleeve dragging harshly over his already reddened eyes, before crossing his arms tightly. He cast a distressed glance at Prussia. "Why are you being... nice to me?"

The former nation stared at him for a long moment before the realization seemed to dawn on him. "Oh," he muttered, the word tinged with understanding. He ran a hand through his silver hair, then let it drop to the back of his neck in an awkward gesture. "Because..." Prussia drew out the word, shifting his weight slightly. "...You're hurt."

For a moment, Romano felt his heart stop. His frustration faded, replaced by surprise. He hadn’t expected that—not that he even knew what he had been expecting. He looked away, swallowed dryly, then shook his head, his brows knitting together.

"Are you insane?!" Romano snapped, slamming his hand against the couch. "Are you actually out of your damn mind?!"

A flicker of surprise crossed Prussia's face, his eyes widening slightly before his expression shifted to uncertainty. "What...?" he murmured. "I don't... I don't understand."

"What's there not to understand?!" South Italy exclaimed. "This—" he gestured sharply between them. "—isn't right!"

"Um..." was all Prussia managed to say, prompting another frustrated groan from Romano.

"You—" the dark-haired brunette jabbed a finger in the other's face. "—should be angry!" he all but shouted. "You should be furious!" his hand moved to his chest, gripping the fabric of his shirt tightly. "At me!" he snapped. "After everything I’ve said to you, after the way I’ve treated you, after I basically told you to fucking die—" his breath hitched, the last word nearly choking him. "How can you just sit here and act all nice with me?" his hazel eyes burned as he stared up Prussia, desperate, almost pleading. "You should hate me, damn it!"

Prussia’s eyebrows shot up, his red eyes widening in disbelief as his mouth fell slightly open. To say he was shocked would be an understatement—he was beyond shocked. He was completely perplexed. He stared at Romano like the guy had spoken in some foreign language and he hadn’t understood a single word. And honestly? That wasn’t far from the truth, because he genuinely couldn’t wrap his head around the idea that Romano actually believed that he, Prussia, could hate him.

Yeah, the truth was, Prussia had been angry. Romano had hurt him in a way no one had in centuries. It had stung, bruised his ego, messed up his confidence a little. He’d even spent the last few hours brooding in his room like some depressed old man, rereading his country’s history—not that he’d ever admit to that, because that would be incredibly un-awesome. And yeah, maybe he still felt a bit—okay, more than a bit—hurt. But angry?

Hell no.

How could he possibly be angry when Romano was sitting here, crying, looking so broken that it hurt to watch? Only someone heartless would hold onto their anger now.

Besides, Prussia had pushed too hard back then, even when it was clear Romano was struggling. In a way, he could admit he probably deserved some of the things the Italian had said.

Prussia snapped out of his thoughts as Romano muttered another curse under his breath, his irritation seeming to grow more and more intense.

"Well?!" South Italy demanded, his expression twisted in disbelief. "Say something, you bastard!"

At that, the albino gave a small shake of his head, trying to snap himself out of the lingering shock. He cleared his throat awkwardly, fumbling for words, but nothing came to mind. The last thing he wanted was to upset Romano even more or, worse, make him cry again.

In the end, Prussia settled for a simple, "Sorry," hoping it would calm Romano down. But the way the Italian’s expression twisted with anger made it clear—it had the exact opposite effect.

Shit.

The Southern nation buried his face in his hands, as if he had just received the worst news of his life. His fingers curled into fists against his skin, nails dragging harshly across his face as he clawed at his tanned complexion.

"No, you're not fucking sorry!" the dark-haired brunette hissed through clenched teeth. "You shouldn’t be sorry! You shouldn’t be apologizing to me!"

"Ah..." Prussia muttered, wincing at the distress of the other man. "I—well I'm sorry for, uh, saying sorry—"

"Fermare! (Stop!)" the Southern nation interrupted sharply. "You have nothing to be sorry for, you idiot!" he snapped, lifting his head just enough to meet the German's gaze with pained eyes. "I’m the one who should be sorry! I’m the one who—" he suddenly cut himself off, biting down hard on his lip as if trying to force the words back, like saying them out loud was too painful.

The Italian’s hazel eyes fell to the floor, and his anger faded, replaced by regret. With a heavy sigh, he buried his face in his hands again, his shoulders slumping as if all the energy had drained out of him, leaving him completely deflated.

A heavy silence hung between them until Romano sniffled again, causing the ex-nation to flinch in surprise.

"Why..." South Italy choked out, his voice trembling. "Why are you doing this to me?" his words cracked as fresh sobs shook his body. "You... doing this... It’s tormenting me! Can’t you see that? Can't you see you're torturing me right now?!" he exclaimed.

Romano's voice broke on the last word, his chest heaving with ragged breaths. He stopped, his shoulders trembling as he struggled to find his next words. When he finally spoke again, his voice was barely above a whisper, raw with desperation.

"You should hate me... please, just hate me... I'm begging you."

Romano raised his hands to his head, gripping his hair in pure distress. His fingers dug into his scalp, pulling harshly, almost desperately. His unusual curl strained under the pressure, twitching from the force. He squeezed his eyes shut, as if trying to block everything out.

He felt like he was about to fall apart. Nothing about this was right—Prussia wasn’t right. He was meant to be hated. That’s how things were supposed to be. Prussia wasn’t supposed to be kind to him. He was supposed to despise him, to never want to see him again—just like everyone else did.

This was too much… South Italy couldn’t handle it. It was tearing him apart from the inside out. He didn’t want to be here. He didn’t want to be anywhere. He just didn’t want to be.

Romano felt himself slipping, about to break down all over again, but before he could, warm hands suddenly wrapped around his cold ones. Gentle yet firm, carefully prying his fingers away from his hair. The unexpected touch made him freeze, his heart skipping a beat. His grip loosened, his hands no longer pulling, no longer hurting himself.

His head snapped up, red-rimmed hazel eyes locking onto Prussia. The albino watched him with a slight frown, his crimson gaze scanning Romano’s face—searching, studying, as if trying to piece something together. There was an intensity to it, sharp yet unreadable, but beneath it was something almost... grounding. Romano couldn’t move. Couldn’t think. Even breathing felt impossible.

Prussia’s hands were warm—far warmer than his own freezing ones. The heat sent a strange feeling twisting inside him, uneasy and unfamiliar, making his stomach churn.

Slowly, the former nation lowered Romano’s hands, but he didn’t let go, as if afraid the Italian might claw at his hair again. His red eyes lingered on Romano for a moment before flickering to the side. Instinctively, the Italian followed his gaze.

The moment Romano realized what Prussia was looking at, his throat tightened, going unbearably dry. His eyes landed on the stupid, empty container of sleeping pills, and he swallowed hard. A cold wave of dread washed over him, making his skin prickle.

Their eyes met again, but this time, something in Prussia's expression had changed. It was subtle, barely noticeable, but Romano saw it. A flicker of understanding, of realization, and something else he couldn't quite put his finger on.

The air was heavy with tension, so thick it felt almost suffocating. Before it could become any worse, the albino finally opened his mouth to speak.

"Romano..." Prussia's voice was careful, almost hesitant. "I don’t hate you." his tone was softer than usual, missing its usual rough edge, quieter than the loud, cocky ex-nation Romano was used to. "And I'm not gonna hate you. Not now, not ever."

At his words, the Italian’s expression crumbled—not in relief, but in sorrow. His hands trembled even more.

"Why?" the brunette murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "You... you should..."

"Yeah. Maybe. Would be easier, huh?" the ex-nation attempted a weak joke, but it fell flat. Romano's eyes only darkened with regret, and seeing that, the German quickly continued, not wanting to make things worse.

"Look," he sighed, keeping his voice as steady and gentle as he could. "I don’t know exactly what’s going on with you, but whatever it is… it’s tearing you apart. It’s making you hurt, making you act impulsively." he paused for a moment, eyes flickering over Romano’s face. "You lashed out. You said some things. And yeah… it hurt. I won’t lie about that. But I don’t think, at least not anymore, that you really meant it."

The Southern nation's eyes widened slightly, and Prussia gave his hands a small squeeze. "And even if you did, I still wouldn’t hate you." he admitted. "It’d be impossible for me to do something that un-awesome."

Romano just stared at him in disbelief, the words echoing in his head. He hated this—hated everything about it. He hated how pathetic he must’ve looked, breaking down in front of Prussia, someone he wasn’t even sure he could call a friend. He hated that things had reached this point, that he had let them spiral so far out of control. But more than anything, he hated himself for allowing it to happen.

He wanted to fight back, to argue, to scream at Prussia to stop being so damn stupid. To wake up and realize that he should despise him already.

But he couldn’t.... He just couldn't.

Because despite everything—despite convincing himself that he needed to be hated, that he deserved it—deep down, buried beneath all of that, he didn’t actually want to be. He wanted to be wanted. To be loved the way his brother was, to have people look at him the way they looked at Veneziano.

So, no matter how much he told himself he should, Romano couldn’t bring himself to fight back against Prussia’s words. He had spent so long calling himself terrible, drowning in his own self-loathing, that hearing Prussia say he didn’t hate him—couldn’t hate him—made something inside him crumble. Not from pain, but from relief.

The former nation was looking at him with a calm expression, free of anger, contempt, or even the slightest hint of cruelty. There wasn’t a trace of resentment... only something soft, something unfamiliar yet unbearably kind. And Romano—Romano couldn’t handle it.

The frustration, the anger, the fear—it all cracked under the weight of that look.

Before he knew it, a breath escaped him—one he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding, maybe since the start of this damn trip, maybe even longer. He wasn’t sure. All he knew was that his head dipped, trembling slightly as quiet apologies began to fall from his lips.

"I'm sorry... I'm so, so sorry," the Southern nation murmured. "I didn’t mean any of it. Dio... I don’t even know why I said all that crap, I just—I was just so—" he sucked in a shaky breath, his shoulders sagging. "I'm just so tired..." he admitted, voice hollow. "I'm tired."

Prussia didn’t say a word. Instead, he slowly released Romano’s hands and inched a little closer. There was a moment of hesitation, uncertainty flickering in his red eyes, before he finally lifted a hand and pulled Romano into what was, admittedly, a pretty awkward hug. It wasn’t graceful, nor was it the best hug Romano had ever received, but somehow, despite the stiffness, it was warm and comforting. And before he knew it, he was leaning into the embrace, gripping onto Prussia’s shirt as he fought to keep himself from crying for what felt like the millionth time that day.

"I didn't mean it." South Italy confessed, his voice muffled. "I'm sorry."

Prussia gave a slight nod, exhaling softly. "Yeah, I know."

The two remained like that for a while—how long, Romano couldn't say. But as faint rays of the morning sun filtered in through the terrace, gradually illuminating the living room, he knew it had been quite some time. Once he had calmed down and seemed to be in slightly better spirits—at least as much as the situation allowed—they finally parted. Romano sank back into the couch, exhausted, while Prussia stayed close, occasionally stealing glances at him.

The former nation leaned forward, drumming his fingers against the coffee table. His eyes flickered to the disinfectant and bandages he had used to treat Romano's injured hand before eventually settling on the empty bottle of sleeping pills.

Prussia mulled over his thoughts for a moment before straightening up and leaning back into the couch, mirroring the other man's posture.

"So..." he began, his gaze drifting to the ceiling. "You can't sleep, huh?" he asked, though he already knew the answer.

Romano hesitated, fidgeting with his hands in his lap. He still felt the urge to keep his guard up, but in the end, he figured there was no point in hiding it anymore.

"Yeah..." he admitted softly. "I haven't been able to sleep for a while now..."

The Italian blew at his bangs as they fell into his eyes before brushing them aside with his hand, only for them to slip right back into place.

"A few months... almost half a year."

"Wow." Prussia muttered, mildly surprised, not expecting that long of a time as an answer.

At that, the Southern nation sent him a small glare, causing the albino to quickly backtrack on his surprise.

"I mean... how unfortunate." the ex-nation quickly corrected himself.

Romano simply rolled his eyes before continuing.
"That's why mio fratello brought us here in the first place. He wanted to help me with my... insomnia." The word felt bitter on his tongue, making him grimace, but he pushed through.

"He thought a vacation might help and all, but this has been..." he trailed off, pressing his lips into a tight line. His expression flickered with discomfort before settling into something more somber. "Great. What can I say," he muttered, his tone dripping with sarcasm, completely contradicting his words. "It fucked me over more than I already was."

Hearing his words, Prussia let out a small, "Ohh," as if he'd just pieced together a complicated puzzle.

"So that's why you guys came here so randomly!" he said, turning to Romano, who gave a slight nod. "And here I thought you just wanted to hang out with the awesome me and my kid brother."

The Italian huffed, crossing his arms and sinking deeper into the couch. "You're only half wrong," he muttered under his breath. "Besides trying to help me or whatever, Veneziano just wanted an excuse to cozy up to your stupid brother. I, on the other hand, wanted to go home... still do... and probably will."

"Oh," the ex-nation murmured, falling silent for a moment before speaking again. "That's..." he stretched out the word, searching for something to say to express his remorse but coming up empty. "Yeah." That was what he settled on, though it didn’t make much sense.

The Southern nation remained silent, his fingers absentmindedly tapping against the fabric of his shirt as he gazed off to the side, his expression almost distant.

The albino mentally cursed himself for his inability to say anything comforting before turning to face the brunette. "You don't have to leave... I mean..."

Romano turned his head to face him, his expression a mix of confusion and lingering sadness.

"I have nothing to stay here for," he admitted. "And nothing to come back to." his voice was so quiet that it tugged painfully at the German’s heartstrings. "I've been a shitty person... I hurt you—and your brother, for that matter. And he’s the damn personification of this country," he said bitterly. "So... mi dispiace (I'm sorry), but I can't stay here."

"My brother?" Prussia echoed, raising a brow in confusion.

At that, Romano grimaced but gave a small nod.
"Yeah," he muttered with a sigh. "He got pissed at me for what I—" he gestured to himself, "—said to you." then, he motioned toward the former nation. "And he got all physical and shit... which, I get. Yeah, you're his brother—"

"Whoa, hold on a second!" Prussia suddenly interrupted, his face creasing into a slight frown. "Physical?" he repeated, disbelief lacing his voice. "West got physical with you?"

South Italy blinked in surprise at the other's reaction, caught off guard for a moment before simply shrugging. "Uh, sì... but it's whatever. I deserved it."

The albino's frown deepened, clearly not brushing it off as easily as Romano would have preferred. "How physical?" he pressed.

At the red-eyed man's question, the Italian hesitated. He didn’t particularly want to answer, but when he glanced at Prussia and noticed the tension in his expression, he exhaled sharply and relented.

"Just—" Romano began, shifting uncomfortably. "—just a bit. It wasn’t anything, uh, too bad." he answered, though Prussia didn’t look convinced. Honestly, neither was Romano, because if he was being truthful, getting mauled by Germany had been pretty terrifying.

The Southern half of Italy shifted his gaze elsewhere, hoping the German would let the subject go. But after a few minutes passed and the albino was still staring at him like he was trying to bore a hole through him, Romano sighed and continued.

"He just—" the Italian gestured with his hands as if grabbing something, then attempted to mimic slamming it into a wall. The motion was a bit clumsy, but judging by the way Prussia's frown deepened even further, he got the idea. "You know?"

The former nation's eyes flickered between Romano's hands and his face, his expression growing more disbelieving with each passing second.

Damn. He knew his kid brother had that fight in him—after all, Prussia himself had taught him to stand his ground when necessary. But he never expected Germany, who was usually too rational for his own good, to actually lose his cool on Prussia’s behalf and go off on Romano like that.

On one hand, it was nice to know Germany valued him so much—hah, how sweet. Prussia was definitely proud.

But on the other hand, it was pretty damn bad that Germany had snapped at Romano, who was barely even half his size. There was a line or something when it came to things like this.

"Damn it, West." the German muttered under his breath, running a hand through his hair before shifting his focus back to Romano. "Scheiße, I'm sorry for that," he apologized, resisting the urge to facepalm. "That's not—My brother, he—I will—" he stumbled over his words, everything spilling out at once as he struggled to figure out what to say first, earning a confused look from the Italian. "Uh, okay, fuck—forget that!" he said, shaking his head before gesturing toward Romano. "Are you... okay?"

The Southern nation stared at him for a moment, as if caught off guard by the question, before giving a slow, hesitant nod. However, after a brief pause, he shrugged, only to then shake his head in a dismissive gesture. Finally, he met the German’s gaze with a weary expression.

"What do you think?"

"Shoot." Prussia murmured, his voice quieter this time. "I'm sorry." he apologized again, but Romano simply lifted a hand and waved it off dismissively.

"It’s whatever," the brunette muttered, dropping his hand and idly picking at the loose threads of the couch. "It doesn’t matter."

Prussia wanted to argue—because, of course, it mattered—but before he could get a word in, Romano spoke again.

"Anyway, now you see why there’s no point in me staying here," he stated, turning his head toward the terrace’s glass door. His gaze settled on the sky, now painted in hues of bright orange. "I’m on bad terms with everyone here… even my own brother." he added in a quiet whisper, as if saying it out loud hurt.

As the sun crept over the horizon, its light spilled onto his face, making him squint and close one eye against the bright glare.

"You're not on bad terms with me..." Prussia suddenly said, his voice softer than before.

Romano blinked at the words, his fingers stilling mid-motion against the frayed threads of the couch. Slowly, he turned his head toward Prussia, hazel eyes widening just slightly. The light of the setting sun streamed in from behind him, outlining his figure in a warm glow that almost gave him a slight aura. The sight made the German’s heart do a little flip.

His gaze met Prussia’s, and for a moment, he just stared, his expression unreadable, yet strangely unguarded. There was something almost dazed in his eyes. He blinked a few more times before the trance seemed to break, and his expression softened into a downcast one.

"Can you really call these good terms?" he asked softly, tilting his head slightly.

Prussia opened his mouth to respond, but before he could say anything, Romano let out a quiet yawn and raised a hand to rub at his tired eyes.

The former nation shut his mouth, his gaze lingering on him instead. His red eyes traced the dark circles smudged beneath the Italian’s eyes and the way his shoulders sagged, as if weighed down by a burden far too heavy to carry. And only now did it seem to truly register for Prussia just how exhausted Romano looked.

Prussia had no idea how he hadn't noticed it before.

"When was the last time you actually got some sleep?" the albino asked, ignoring the other's question in favor of his own.

Romano let his hand fall from his face before offering a simple shrug.

"Dunno," he muttered, voice slightly hoarse. "A couple of days ago."

"A couple of days ago?” Prussia repeated in disbelief. “You mean to tell me you haven’t slept at all since?"

The Italian let out a quiet huff. "It’s not like I haven’t tried." he muttered. "It just... doesn’t work."

"Why?" the albino pressed, causing Romano to tense for the briefest moment before he eased back into the couch.

"I don't know..." he confessed, though his words were hollow. "I just can't..."

Prussia had a feeling that wasn’t the truth—that Romano knew exactly what kept him up at night. This didn’t seem like just simple insomnia... it ran deeper than that. Given the way he almost seemed to seek out hatred, it was likely connected to that. But Prussia chose not to push. The last thing he wanted was for the Italian to sink back into that sadness or distress again.

"I see." Prussia responded, letting his gaze rest on the brunette for a moment longer before shifting it to the coffee table. His red eyes landed on the empty pill bottle, and he leaned forward, picking it up. "And these—" he said, tossing the container up and catching it effortlessly. "—do these help?"

The Southern nation sighed, rubbing his temples. "Yeah." he responded, his voice quiet. "They do. But ever since I got here, I haven’t been able to take any due to certain… circumstances." he muttered the last part, not bothering to elaborate. "And now I don’t have any left."

Prussia hummed in response, turning the bottle over in his fingers as he studied it. "Damn, these are pretty strong." he remarked, his brows drawing together.

The Italian scoffed at his words, rolling his eyes. "Duh. That's the point, dumbass."

"Right." Prussia muttered, his tone flat as he kept flipping the bottle in his hands. His eyes eventually landed on the fine print near the bottom, right beside a bright yellow warning label that read 'Take one per day' in bold, capitalized letters. His lips pressed into a thin line before he shifted his gaze back to Romano. "How many were you taking?"

The dark-haired brunette hesitated for a brief moment before shrugging. "As many as I could to make sure I slept."

The former nation grimaced. "Uh-huh."

His fingers curled tighter around the bottle as he flipped it over once more, scanning the long list of side effects printed in tiny letters—drowsiness, anxiety, depression, restlessness, nausea, dizziness, and more than he cared to count.

His frown deepened. No wonder Romano was so on edge. Whatever was eating him up inside, combined with this, was probably driving him nuts.

"You don’t need these." Prussia suddenly said.

Before Romano could react, the albino reeled his arm back and chucked the bottle across the room. It sailed through the air and landed with a clean clink into the trash can.

"Hey!" the Southern nation called out, pushing himself to the edge of the couch and reaching out as if he intended to grab the bottle back. "What the hell?!" he demanded, shooting a frown at the German.

"What?" the red-eyed man replied with a shrug. "It was empty."

At that, the Italian's frown eased slightly, though he still looked fairly annoyed. "Yeah, but I need the brand, you idiot!" he snapped, lowering his bandaged hand and clenching it into a fist.

"What for?"

"To buy more, of course!" Romano exclaimed, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, gesturing with that exaggerated Italian hand motion all Italians seemed to do. Under different circumstances, Prussia would have definitely made a comment about it. "I can't sleep without those pills."

"You don’t need them." the former nation repeated again, his resolve unwavering.

Romano gave him a look as if he'd just said something completely absurd. "What? Of course I do."

"No, you don’t."

The Italian kept staring at him, his expression wavering between disbelief and irritation. "The hell's your problem?" he snapped, his voice edged with annoyance as he curled his lips into one of his signature scowls.

"Nothing!" the albino said, raising his hands in mock surrender. "I'm just saying you'd be better off without drugging yourself with crap like that."

Romano's scowl darkened at his words, his expression tightening as if he were mere seconds away from driving a fist into Prussia’s stomach. "Mi scusi? (Excuse me?)" he drawled, his eyes narrowing dangerously.

Prussia didn’t understand the words, but he didn’t need to—the sharp glare Romano was shooting him was translation enough. It was clear he wasn’t pleased with what had just been said, but the German stood by his point. Sometimes, medication wasn’t the answer, especially when it did more harm than good.

The ex-nation didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he fell silent, seemingly lost in thought as he completely ignored Romano’s murderous glare. He wanted to help. He’d wanted to before, but back then, it had been more about getting Romano to admit how awesome he was. Now, though, it was different. This time, he just wanted to do something—anything—to make the Italian feel even a little better, expecting nothing in return. The problem was, he had no idea how.

Think, Prussia, think.

What was something that could make anyone fall asleep, no matter what? He racked his brain, sifting through over a century of memories, searching for an answer. Then, all at once, it hit him.

"Ah-ha!" he exclaimed, snapping his fingers as a triumphant grin spread across his face. "I got it!"

South Italy’s expression shifted from irritation to sheer confusion. "Huh?" he muttered, eyeing Prussia as if he wasn’t sure he’d heard him correctly. "Got what?"

At that, the albino's grin widened even further, as if he had just won the Nobel Prize. "Fear not, older Italy! For I, the awesome Prussia, shall help you sleep!" he declared proudly, gesturing toward Romano with exaggerated enthusiasm.

The Southern nation looked utterly stunned by his declaration, barely even registering that the German had just called him Italy. His face twisted in sheer disbelief, his focus locked on the albino’s last words. "HUH?!"

Prussia chose to ignore the stunned look on the other man's face, instead jabbing a finger at himself with unwavering determination. "I know the best method to make someone fall asleep!" he proclaimed with absolute confidence. "No medication required!"

The Southern nation just stared at him as if Prussia had suddenly sprouted a second head. He seemed to process the words slowly, his expression shifting from conflicted to slightly puzzled, his frown deepening. Then, as realization struck, a faint blush crept onto his face. His eyes widened briefly before, without warning, he shoved Prussia away with both hands.

The albino had to catch himself at the last second to avoid tumbling off the couch and onto the floor, his grin vanishing. "What the hell was that for?" he demanded, genuinely baffled by the other man's reaction.

Romano scooted further away on the couch, shaking his head furiously. "No way!"

Prussia blinked, confused. He moved slightly closer, but before he could get within reach, Romano grabbed a pillow and chucked it straight at his face.

"Hey! What gives?!" the albino sputtered, catching the pillow before it could send him flying backwards.

The brunette jabbed a finger in his direction, his blush darkening. "I am not that desperate!" he snapped before quickly grabbing another pillow and flinging it at the ex-nation. This time, Prussia managed to dodge, letting the pillow drop uselessly to the floor.

Prussia had no clue what about his words had flustered the Southern nation so much. All he had done was offer to help and confidently claim he knew the best way to do it—what was so bad about that? Romano’s reaction made no sense.

But then, as he replayed his own words in his head, it finally clicked.

Oh.

Ohhh.

Wait, fuck.

His eyes widened slightly before he quickly shook his head, blurting out in a rush. "No, wait! No, no, no, it’s not what you think!" The ex-nation frantically waved his hands in a way that all but screamed, 'You’ve got it all wrong!' "It’s a military method!" he blurted out hastily. "Military!" he repeated for emphasis, just in case Romano hadn’t caught it the first time. "Whatever you think I meant, I definitely didn’t mean that!"

Romano froze mid-motion, arms raised as he was about to grab yet another pillow to launch at Prussia. His eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Military method?" he repeated slowly, as if testing the words on his tongue, still clearly not convinced.

"Yeah!" Prussia nodded furiously, eager to clear up the misunderstanding before another pillow came flying at his face. "Something my soldiers used back in the day to fall asleep fast—even in the trenches!" he explained quickly, hoping to convince Romano before he got smacked again.

"Oh." The Italian muttered, his grip loosening on the pillow he had been ready to launch at Prussia. His face, still tinged with pink, scrunched up slightly in embarrassment, but he quickly cleared his throat and straightened up, regaining his composure.

"That’s… that’s…" he hesitated, seeming like he wanted to say something but ultimately deciding against it. "Whatever." he mumbled instead, pulling the pillow against his chest rather than using it as a projectile.

For a moment, the dark-haired man remained silent, then let out a quiet sigh. Bringing the pillow closer, he lowered his head into it. "It won’t work anyway." he muttered, his voice muffled by the fabric but still clear enough for the German to hear.

Prussia’s shoulders sagged slightly at that, but he refused to let it discourage him. Steeling himself, he said. "You didn’t even hear me out."

The Italian lifted his head slightly, his tired eyes meeting the former nation's. "I don’t have to," he muttered. "All those military sleeping methods are a waste of time." he shook his head, sighing. "I’ve been on the battlefield too, and not once has one of those things actually worked. So I doubt it’ll work now either."

"Well… maybe those methods didn't work," Prussia admitted, earning a frown from Romano. "But what I’ve got isn’t just any military method—it’s THE military method! One that works one hundred percent!" he declared, enthusiastically forming a one and a zero with his fingers before adding another zero to emphasize his point. "It worked on stressed-out, overworked soldiers with bombs going off around them. So it’ll definitely work on you!"

The Italian didn’t look entirely convinced, but there was a hint of interest in his expression, which was a good sign.

"And this… method you’re talking about is…?" Romano asked, raising a curious eyebrow.

"An awesome one!" Prussia declared proudly, completely dodging the actual question.

Romano's brow twitched. “That answers nothing, bastard." he deadpanned, giving the ex-nation an unimpressed stare.

The albino simply laughed, completely unfazed. Clearing his throat, he gestured between them and asked. "Mind if I come closer?"

Romano narrowed his eyes slightly, but after a moment of hesitation, he sighed and muttered, “Fine."

Grinning at his victory, the white-haired man scooted closer, his shoulder nearly brushing against the Southern nation's. The Italian tensed for a moment before shifting slightly, clutching the pillow tighter against his chest. His gaze flickered to the German, skepticism clear in his eyes. "So? What's this method of yours?"

Prussia looked ready to launch into his grand explanation, but just as he was about to speak, he suddenly halted. His expression shifted to exaggerated surprise as he turned to the Southern nation. "Wait, wait—do you even know which war my people invented this in?"

South Italy blinked. “What does that have to do with anything?”

The ex-nation gaped theatrically, as if Romano had just insulted his very existence. "You have to know the history behind it!" he insisted, as if it were an absolute necessity. "It's important!"

At that, the hazel-eyed man let out a groan, running a hand down his face as he shifted in place. "I don’t care—just tell me the damn thing already! I’m tired!"

"I know, I know!" the white-haired man said in a reassuring tone, trying not to push the Italian’s patience too far. "But come on, you have to hear this!" He gave Romano a slight nudge with his elbow, only to receive a light shove in return. "It'll take, like, ten minutes—then I’ll tell you the method!"

Romano looked as though he was about to refuse, but in the end, he gave in with a sigh. "Make it quick."

Prussia grinned triumphantly, raising a fist in victory, while Romano muttered a string of curses under his breath. "Alright! So, it was the winter of 1870—" And with that, he dove into a long-winded tale about whatever war he was rambling on about.

At first, Romano listened, if only because he wanted to get to the actual point of this whole thing. But as Prussia kept rambling, it became harder and harder to keep up.

Prussia droned on and on, going into excruciating detail about strategies, formations, and completely unnecessary side tangents. His monotonous tone made the already dull subject even worse, and Romano quickly found himself struggling to stay engaged. His eyelids grew heavier with each passing second, his head starting to feel like it weighed a ton.

He stifled a quiet yawn, his grip on the pillow loosening slightly. Still, he didn’t interrupt—no matter how stupid he thought this was, he was determined to hear what the so-called method actually was. After all, how had he gone hundreds of years without ever hearing about it?

Unfortunately, Prussia seemed in no rush to get to the point. He just kept talking.

Romano’s head dipped slightly before he jerked it back up. His eyes fluttered shut for a brief moment. Then again. Until finally, he just let them stay closed—it was much easier that way.

It was strange. Romano wasn’t sure if it was the result of his many sleepless nights or if his body was simply giving up, but he found himself slowly drifting in and out of consciousness.

What was even stranger, though, was how quiet his mind was. For once, there were no intrusive thoughts, no endless overthinking—just silence. Not because the thoughts weren’t there—no, they still existed—but he simply couldn’t focus on them. They were drowned out and pushed aside by the steady hum of Prussia’s voice.

He wasn’t even paying attention to the words—just the sound of Prussia’s voice. It was strange, really. But… at the same time, it was oddly nice. Almost relaxing in a way he hadn’t felt in a long time.

For a brief moment, the Italian wondered when the German would finally reveal the so-called 'awesome sleeping method'. But before he could finish the thought, his mind drifted, his thoughts fading into nothing. Slowly, everything went quiet, and before he even realized it, he had fallen asleep.

Prussia, completely unaware, kept talking. It wasn’t until he happened to glance over—mid-sentence—that he finally noticed. Romano’s head had tilted forward slightly, his eyes shut, his grip on the pillow loosened, allowing it to slip from his grasp.

Prussia blinked in surprise before a small smile slowly spread across his face. He let out a quiet exhale, then murmured with a hint of amusement. "Heh… guess the method worked."

Being careful not to wake him, Prussia reached over and gently tilted Romano’s head back, trying to ease him into a more comfortable position. But the slightest movement caused Romano to stir, shifting in his sleep. Without thinking, he unconsciously leaned toward Prussia, his head lolling to the side until it came to rest against his shoulder before the German could even react.

Prussia tensed up, caught off guard. His lips parted slightly in surprise, his body momentarily stiff.

But then, after a beat, he relaxed.

His smile shifted into a fond one as he glanced down at the sleeping brunette—the soft rise and fall of his breathing, the way the usual tension on his face had finally melted away, and how, for once, he looked peaceful instead of distressed.

It was a good look on him.

“Looks like I’m sleeping with you, South.” the Prussian murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, more to himself than anything. His gaze softened as he carefully brushed a few stray strands of hair from the Italian’s face, his touch light enough not to wake him.

Settling back against the couch, he let Romano rest against him. Prussia stayed awake for a while longer before he closed his eyes and soon fell asleep.

Chapter Text

The afternoon sun crept through the terrace’s glass door, golden light spilling into the room in slanted beams. It stretched across the floor, climbed the side of the couch, and pressed against Romano’s skin, hot and insistent. The warmth burned over his cheek, his arms, his closed eyelids, seeping into him until it became too much to ignore. His face twisted in discomfort before he slowly began to stir awake.

His eyelashes fluttered as his eyes cracked open just the slightest bit, a sliver of hazel peering through. Blurred shapes swam in his vision, colors muted and indistinct. A dark, rectangular object stood a few feet away from him. It took Romano a moment to realize it was a television screen.

The Italian squinted in confusion, blinking slowly in an attempt to clear the haze from his vision. But sleep still clung to him, pulling his eyelids shut once more. With a faint shrug, he went back to bed. Yet, just as Romano was about to slip into unconsciousness, a sudden thought struck him.

Why was there a TV in his room?

A crease formed between his brows. His fingers twitched against the fabric beneath him, and he forced his eyes open again. His vision shifted and wavered before gradually clearing, allowing the shapes of the room to sharpen. His gaze flicked around, taking in his surroundings, and only then did he realize that he wasn't in his bedroom, but on the couch, in the living room.

Romano pushed himself up into a sitting position, wincing at the stiffness in his limbs and the dizziness clouding his head. Damn. What the hell? It felt like he’d been sedated. The brunette raised a hand to rub at his eyes, but as soon as he did so, a blanket he hadn’t noticed before slipped from his shoulders and pooled onto his lap.

"What the...?" Romano muttered under his breath, staring at the blanket for a moment as his foggy mind struggled to piece things together.

Had he slept here? Why? Why had he fallen asleep on the couch instead of in his own bed?

Wait.

He had fallen asleep.

He had actually slept.

After days of restless nights, he had finally managed to sleep.

Oh. My. God.

A small, disbelieving breath left his lips as the realization settled in, snapping him wide awake.

"Dio mio!" The exclamation burst from his lips, raw with shock, as he slapped both hands to his face. "I fucking slept!" His voice cracked slightly, his own words sounding surreal to his ears. He blinked, his heart pounding as if trying to keep up with the sheer disbelief flooding his system.

For a brief second, he remained frozen, overwhelmed by the revelation, before it twisted into something entirely different. Relief. Pure, unfiltered relief.

A breathless laugh escaped him as his hands slid down his face, fingers tangling in his disheveled hair. A grin spread across his face. For the first time in months, he had slept properly, and for more than two hours too. Wow!

Romano let himself fall back onto the couch, arms raised high in the air as if he had just won a victory, and honestly, it kind of was a victory for him.

The Southern nation felt great—well, maybe not GREAT great, since his head still ached a little and his muscles were sore as hell. But he felt rested. And that alone made all the difference.

For the first time in what felt like forever, he felt like a whole new person—like he had the energy of an athlete, as if he could run for miles without stopping. He had completely forgotten what it was like to have energy, and now that he did, he wanted to hold onto this feeling and never let go.

Romano wanted to leap with joy, spin in circles, or do anything to celebrate, but his excitement over finally getting some sleep was short-lived. His moment of relief quickly faded as his mind began forcing last night’s memories back into focus, making his enthusiasm falter. In an instant, his smile vanished, and his arms dropped limply to his sides as everything came rushing back.

"Oh." South Italy murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. A flicker of distress crossed his face as flashes of the previous night surfaced—shattered glass, scattered pills, the sharp sting of a fresh cut on his hand. His gaze dropped, searching for the wound he knew was there—only to find it neatly bandaged.

"Oh." he repeated, softer this time, as more memories slowly pieced themselves together. His fingers ghosted over the bandage, tracing its edges before he clasped his hands together, letting them rest in his lap. The panic that had gripped him a moment ago eased, replaced by a quiet sense of reassurance.

Prussia… he had helped him. Despite all the cruel things Romano had spat at him the night before—all the anger and bitterness—the former nation had been kind. He had forgiven him. And he had said… he didn’t hate him.

Prussia didn’t hate him.

Romano almost couldn’t believe it. It felt surreal, yet undeniably true, and it left him with a strange, unfamiliar warmth in his chest. Until now, he had always thought the former nation was just trying to irritate him, mock him, or make fun of him. But last night, Prussia had done none of that. He had only been nice. So damn nice.

He could’ve easily ridiculed Romano or said something harsh to get revenge when he saw the Italian at his lowest, crumpled on the floor. But he hadn’t. He hadn’t seized that chance to be cruel. Instead, he had helped him.

Romano's fingers fidgeted in his lap, not out of distress, but out of something else—something he couldn’t quite name. A sensation that made his heart beat a little faster. It was pleasant, but... unsettling.

Prussia had stayed. Even after everything Romano had thrown at him, he had stayed. They had talked—though Romano could barely remember the details, something about his sleep problems, perhaps. The conversation was blurry, but one thing he did recall was Prussia mentioning a war, and then… then Romano had fallen asleep.

Why had Prussia brought up that war again?

Oh, right. He had been telling him about how his soldiers came up with a way to sleep through the grueling nights of battle. But Romano had drifted off before he could finish.

Romano had never cared much for war stories. He’d been to war, yes, but he had little patience for recounting them. They were just reminders of things he wanted to forget. And yet… listening to Prussia talk—about something Romano had no interest in—had drawn his mind away from the dark thoughts that usually consumed him, and had lulled him to sleep like a lullaby.

Maybe he’d just been too exhausted, and that had finally tipped him over the edge. Or maybe… that had been the sleeping method Prussia had mentioned. Maybe there was no secret military trick. Maybe it was just this—simple talking.

Huh...

Something so simple had worked when nothing else had. Not medication. Not sheer exhaustion. Only Prussia. He had done what Romano hadn’t been able to do on his own.

Because he wanted to help.

Because he didn’t hate him.

The Italian's heart skipped a beat. He raised a hand to his chest, fingers pressing against the fabric of his shirt where his heart was.

"Prussia..."

The name slipped from his lips, a whisper too soft, too tender—far too full of feeling. The moment he heard it, his eyes widened in horror. His other hand shot up to cover his mouth, as if he could somehow push the word back inside. His gaze darted around the room, panic flooding him.

Was someone here? Had anyone heard that?

But the living room was empty.

Romano exhaled, equal parts relieved and rattled. He had not just done that.

...Except he had.

His pulse was still racing, and he was still reeling from the weight of this realization when another thought struck him.

Actually... where was everyone?

Last rime he had checked, there were supposed to be three other nations in the house with him, yet the place was eerily silent. His brows knit together as he glanced around, his gaze eventually settling on the clock in the living room. It was past four in the afternoon. Damn. He had been out like a light for quite a while.

The thought alone sent another wave of disbelief crashing over him. It had been so long since he had slept for so long. For a second, he was almost giddy again. He had slept so much. So easily. But he shook his head, forcing himself to focus.

Right. The others.

Freeing himself from the blanket, the Italian pushed himself to his feet. He stretched briefly to ease the tension in his muscles before slowly making his way out of the living room.

The last thing he remembered was falling asleep with the albino beside him, but now Prussia was nowhere in sight—nor were Veneziano and Germany.

Hmm... Had they... left? It was possible, considering how late in the afternoon it was.

Speaking of Veneziano and Germany… Romano wondered what would happen next. He had originally planned to leave Germany and return home, but that was before everything with Prussia. Now, he wasn’t so sure. The former nation had said they weren’t on bad terms, but did that extend to the others as well? Had Prussia spoken to Veneziano and Germany? How was this all supposed to play out now?

Lost in thought, Romano didn’t realize he had stopped walking. He stood frozen in front of the stairs, dwelling on questions he had no answers to. It wasn’t until the faint sound of footsteps pulled him from his thoughts that he snapped his head up. To his surprise, his brother stood at the top of the stairs.

The moment Romano spotted the other Italian, he froze. He had assumed he was alone and hadn’t expected to run into anyone—least of all his brother.

Fuck.

He hadn’t thought about what to say. Should he apologize? Try to explain himself before anything else? Or maybe just ignore the whole thing and pretend nothing had happened?

…Yeah, no. That last option was definitely not a good one. He should probably cross it off the list.

Okay. What now? South Italy needed to do something.

And so, he did.

He stood there, stiff as a board, staring intensely at his brother.

…Great. Fantastic. Good job, idiot.

Veneziano blinked, momentarily stunned, before simply staring back. For a long, silent minute, the two halves of Italy remained frozen, neither speaking nor moving. Then, as if snapping out of a trance, Veneziano bolted down the stairs, almost tripping in his haste, before launching himself at Romano.

The impact nearly knocked the older man over as Veneziano wrapped his arms around him in a suffocating embrace, squeezing so tightly it was as if he feared Romano might disappear.

"Fratello!" Veneziano choked out, his voice trembling.

Romano tensed, caught off guard by both the sheer force of the hug and the fact that he hadn’t expected it at all. He opened his mouth to speak—he wasn’t sure what he wanted to say, only that he needed to say something—but no words came out.

Veneziano let out a shaky sniffle, his grip tightening. A few moments passed before he slowly pulled back, just barely, his hands still holding onto Romano. His wide amber eyes shimmered, the faintest hint of tears threatening to spill over.

Romano met his gaze, struggling to catch his breath. Then, without warning, Veneziano lunged at him again.

"Fratello!" the younger Italian sobbed, squeezing Romano even tighter than before.

The Southern nation let out a strangled yelp. Okay, this was getting ridiculous.

If he stayed trapped in his brother's grip any longer, he was going to pass out from lack of oxygen. His lungs had already been through enough. He couldn't afford to put them through more. When survival was on the line, even his body’s annoying tendency to freeze up could be overridden.

“Veneziano—" Romano chocked out, his voice breathless. "You're— ngh—killing me—” he gasped, his hands flying up to grab at his brother’s shirt, trying to pry him off.

Veneziano immediately recoiled, launching himself backward in alarm. In his haste, he stumbled, nearly losing his balance. Instinctively, Romano reached out to steady him, but Veneziano righted himself at the last second, his hands twisting together anxiously.

"S-Sorry! I didn’t mean to— I just—I—!” he faltered, shaking his head as if trying to clear it. “Ah, get it together!” he muttered, giving his cheeks a light slap before clenching his fists and turning his attention back to Romano with renewed determination.

"You—You slept!" the Northern nation blurted out, gesturing toward the older man. "Did you sleep well? Did you sleep a lot? How are you feeling? Are you okay?" Veneziano’s words tumbled out so fast they blurred together.

Romano squinted, trying to process the flood of questions with his still-groggy mind.

Now that he was looking closer, Veneziano seemed... disheveled. His hair was messier than usual, his hands fidgeting restlessly, his knee bouncing as if he physically couldn’t stay still. He looked like he was on the verge of jumping out of his own skin from sheer nervousness.

This was his fault, wasn’t it? Veneziano had probably spent all this time worrying over him. But Romano had been so caught up in his own frustration, in his own problems, that he hadn't stopped to think about how much stress he had put on his brother. Damn it.

Guilt gnawed at him. He had blamed Veneziano for his own problems when, in truth, none of this was his brother’s fault. Veneziano had only ever tried to help, and Romano had repaid that kindness by being a terrible person to him in return. Oof... Mistake after mistake… it was almost laughable how easily he kept making them. Maybe he was just wired that way, doomed to always mess things up.

Ok, enough! No more of that. Sitting here wallowing in self-pity wouldn’t solve anything. What mattered now was apologizing and making things right with his brother. Yes!

Before he could spiral any further, the other nation's voice pulled him back to the present.

"Romano...?"

At that, the dark-haired brunette flinched, blinking a few times.

"I—” he began, pausing for a moment to recall what Veneziano had asked him, then let out a huff, rubbing the back of his neck. “I slept, yeah. A lot, I think.” his gaze flickered to the side before he forced himself to meet Veneziano’s worried eyes. “And I feel… fine... I suppose."

His words seemed to ease Veneziano just a little, his tense shoulders relaxing ever so slightly as he let out an audible sigh. Still, he remained fidgety and visibly distressed, his lips trembling as if he had a dozen things he wanted to say but couldn’t quite get them out. Finally, Veneziano cleared his throat, appearing to settle on a response.

"I'm glad... I'm really, really glad." the Northern part of Italy murmured, exhaling softly and giving a small nod to emphasize his words.

A heavy silence settled between them, thick with tension. South Italy took a breath, ready to finally apologize, but before he could get a single word out, Veneziano spoke first—as if he had been thinking the exact same thing.

"Romano... I—" the younger man started, then hesitated, as if second-guessing his words. His gaze dropped to the floor before he looked back up to meet Romano’s eyes. "Fratello, mi dispiace (I'm sorry)... for everything. I—I shouldn’t have brought you here. I’m so sorry..." he murmured, his voice thick with regret. "Because of me, you had to go through all of that yesterday... and now your insomnia has gotten even worse." he swallowed hard, guilt clouding his expression. "I don’t know what I was thinking, I—"

Before Veneziano could finish, Romano abruptly cut him off, frantically waving his hands in dismissal. "No, no, no, no! It’s not your fault! It’s really not your fault!" he blurted out, his voice rough, the words tumbling out in a rush. "I’m the one to blame for what happened yesterday! It’s all on me!" he pressed a hand against his chest, gesturing toward himself. "Dio, per favore, don’t take responsibility for my mistakes—for my irrationality! You have nothing to apologize for!"

"From the very start, all you’ve ever done is try to help me. Everything you’ve done has been for my sake. And even if things didn’t go as you intended, even if your help caused more harm than good, you still did it out of..." he hesitated for just a moment, inhaling sharply. "Out of love for me." he exhaled the words, his heart clenching painfully, unable to grasp how Veneziano could still hold him in such high regard despite everything he had done—both in the past and now.

"Your actions were driven by love," he continued, voice quieter now, "but mine… mine were driven by hate, resentment, and anger. I should have handled them better, should have never let them consume me. So please—don’t you dare blame yourself for this. Don’t be selfless. Just this once, be selfish. Let me take the blame."

"What…" Veneziano murmured, his eyes widening in shock. He stood frozen for a moment before snapping out of it. "No! How can you even say that?!" he burst out, shaking his head. "You're the last person who should be blamed for this!" his voice grew more urgent. "Everything you did was justified—you were exhausted, overwhelmed, and in pain! And me, along with the others… we just kept pushing you, piling on the pressure, making everything worse!"

Romano frowned at that. "That still doesn't justify me being so cruel to you and taking out my frustration on you!" he insisted. "I should have controlled myself, thought twice—no, three times—before saying anything. I shouldn’t have reacted so badly!"

"But—but... Fratello!" the younger Italian exclaimed, his voice trembling as if he were on the verge of tears. He wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand. "It’s not your fault! It never was! Instead of taking the precautions we should have—I should have—I did nothing. Absolutely nothing. And yesterday... you were so exhausted, so upset, and Germany, he—" his voice faltered, his breath hitching. "And I—I just stood there. I couldn’t do anything. I didn’t know what to do..." he trailed off, the sheer helplessness in his voice making Romano feel like he’d just been punched in the gut.

Veneziano paused, seemingly trying to collect himself before continuing. "Prussia... he told me and Germany that you two made up. That we should forgive you because you didn’t mean what you said—"

Ah. So Prussia had actually talked to Veneziano and Germany and tried to smooth things over for Romano… How nice of him. Wait. No! No time for such thoughts! Focus!

"—which I would have done anyway because you’re my fratello maggiore (older brother), and I’m really glad you made up. But… I can’t shake the feeling that this whole thing could have been avoided if I had just been more careful and listened to you from the start." Veneziano admitted, his head dropping in defeat. "You never wanted to come here, never wanted to do any sight seeing or hiking, but I pushed you every time." his voice dropped sadly. "You were right to be angry with me..." he whispered. "I'm sorry, fratello... I truly am. I never wanted you to get hurt like that..."

Hearing those words, Romano felt himself melt like an ice cube under the summer sun. The weight of his little brother’s guilt—guilt he never should have carried, yet had taken upon himself because of Romano’s own misplaced blame—twisted something deep inside him. For all the jealousy and envy he had felt, and still felt, toward Veneziano, he couldn’t stand the thought of him suffering under a burden he didn’t deserve.

Romano knew guilt all too well—how it could consume a person from the inside out—and he wouldn’t wish that on his brother, not for a second. Because despite his jealousy, despite his shortcomings in showing it, he truly did love him. No matter how persistent or annoying Veneziano could be, Romano really did love him.

"Veneziano..." the Southern nation murmured, his voice shaky. He clenched his fists at his sides before, without giving himself a chance to hesitate, stepping forward and pulling Veneziano into a hug. He had never been one for touchy-feely gestures—it just wasn’t his thing. But this time, he pushed that aside.

The light-haired brunette was taken aback by the sudden embrace, freezing for a moment, before wrapping his arms around Romano like he had been waiting for this all along.

"Waah! Fratello!" the younger Italian cried out. "I feel awful!"

“I’m sorry..." Romano mumbled, unsure if he could speak any louder without breaking down as well. "I shouldn’t have blamed you for everything. It wasn’t your fault."

"But—but I should have done more! I should have noticed how bad things were for you before it got to this point!" Veneziano protested.

South Italy let out a shaky breath, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment before forcing himself to speak. "Maybe… maybe we both made mistakes." he admitted, his voice quieter now. "But that doesn’t mean you should carry all of the blame, especially when it isn’t yours. That’s not fair, dammit."

Veneziano didn’t respond—he didn’t need to. It was clear, without words, that they had forgiven each other. Romano wasn’t sure how it worked, but he figured it was a sibling thing—the way they could understand each other without speaking. Maybe it was simply because they had spent so much time together. Whatever the reason, he was just relieved that they had finally made up. Carrying the guilt of having hurt his brother had been unbearable, and it seemed Veneziano had felt the same. But now, knowing they were okay again, it was like a weight had been lifted from his chest, allowing him to finally breathe freely again.

The two halves of Italy remained like that for a while before finally pulling away. As expected, Veneziano looked as if he had been crying nonstop for days, even though it had only been a few minutes.

"Are you seriously bawling your eyes out?" the older Italian asked, his tone tinged with amusement.

At that, the Northern nation gave a quick nod and wiped at his eyes, trying to rid himself of the lingering tears. "Sì! It’s because I’m relieved!” he exhaled, his voice slightly hoarse. “I thought you would hate me forever and never want to talk to me again!” he dropped his hands from his face, clenching them into fists and moving them up and down in slight distress, as if the very thought was terrifying. “I was so worried when I tried to talk to you, and you wouldn’t let me in! I thought I was going to have three heart attacks!"

Hearing that, Romano winced slightly, fully aware of what his brother was referring to. He hadn’t expected it to have affected him so much. “Sorry… my mind was elsewhere at the time." he murmured, unwilling to admit that he had cried until his tears had completely run dry.

"It's fine fratello!" Veneziano said with a dismissive wave of his hand, trying to reassure Romano. "I understand… I’m just glad we’re okay now." he added with a smile.

"Yeah… me too." the Southern nation replied, offering a faint smile in return. He truly was relieved to have reconciled with his brother... He couldn’t imagine what he would have done if they hadn’t made up.

The thought made Romano frown, but before he could dwell on it, the younger Italian suddenly grabbed his hand, his expression filled with determination.

"I promise that from now on, I won’t be as pushy. I’ll listen to you more, and I won’t let what happened yesterday ever happen again!" Veneziano declared with conviction.

Romano blinked at him, taken aback by the seriousness in his voice. After a brief pause, he gave a slow nod. "I... I appreciate that," he murmured. Another pause. "Fratello," his voice softened, carrying a rare sincerity. "I’ll try to be better too."

At that, Veneziano’s grip tightened around his hand—a gesture that would have been comforting if he hadn’t grabbed the wounded one. A sharp sting shot through Romano's palm, and he let out a quiet, involuntary hiss.

Veneziano's brows furrowed in confusion before he glanced down. The moment he caught sight of the bandage, his eyes widened in alarm.

"What happened?!" he exclaimed, his face twisting in shock as he yanked Romano’s hand closer to examine it.

"Oh, uh, this is just—" Romano started, intending to explain, but before he could finish, Veneziano cut him off once again.

"Is this from Germany??" the Northern nation gasped, his face contorting with concern as his eyes flickered anxiously between the Southern nation's injured hand and his face. "Is this from when he...?"

Romano nearly choked on the breath he had just taken. "No! Dio, no!" he blurted out, shaking his head furiously. "I just—ugh, I broke some glasses and cut myself, that's all," he said, quickly pulling his hand from his brother’s grip and crossing his arms awkwardly. "But it's fine, I’m fine. No preoccuparti (don’t worry)."

"Ah..." Veneziano exhaled, visibly relieved. "Sorry, I, uh, panicked..."

"It's fine..." South Italy murmured, wincing as the memory of being shoved into a wall and nearly suffocated by Germany flickered through his mind. Well, almost suffocated—nations didn’t just die from something so trivial.

Shaking his head to dispel the thought, he looked down at his bandaged hand before glancing back at Veneziano. A faint smile tugged at his lips as he gestured toward him. "Well, at least now we match."

"We do?" the younger man asked, furrowing his brows in thought as he glanced down at his uninjured hands. After a moment, realization dawned on him. "Oh, we do!" he exclaimed cheerfully, motioning toward his scraped knees, which had already started to heal. "We're injury buddies!"

At that, Romano snorted, convinced that his brother was probably the only person on Earth who would be happy about an injury just because it meant matching with his sibling. The thought nearly made him laugh, but another quickly took its place. Now that they were on the subject of Germany… where was he? More importantly, where was his brother?

"Hey, Veneziano?" Romano spoke up suddenly, not giving the other nation a chance to respond before voicing the question on his mind. "Where exactly are..." he hesitated for a moment, considering how to refer to the Germanic nations before settling on his usual choice. "...the bastards?" his gaze flickered up the stairs, searching for any sign of someone else lurking above.

"Oh!" Veneziano exclaimed, as if a light bulb had just gone off in his head. "Germany and Prussia went out a while ago to get some groceries since the fridge was kinda empty..." he trailed off, a sheepish look on his face. "Well, not exactly empty—it's actually pretty full—but, like, ingredient-wise, it's empty... if that makes sense."

"Oh." Romano muttered, shifting his gaze back to Veneziano, a hint of disappointment settling in at the realization that a certain albino wasn't here.

"Yeahh, that’s kinda my fault," the Northern nation admitted, fidgeting with his hands and glancing away awkwardly. "I was so anxious that I went on a bit of a cooking spree to distract myself, and, uh... I might've overdone it. Hah."

The awkward expression didn’t last long, though, as he suddenly perked up. "Wait! You must be hungry since you’ve been sleeping most of the day! Right? Right?!" Veneziano exclaimed, pointing at Romano.

At the mention of hunger, Romano’s stomach churned, making him realize just how starved he actually was. Not surprising, really—he’d been eating poorly ever since arriving in Germany, thanks to all the stress. He was pretty sure he’d already lost a pound or two, which wasn’t exactly what he’d hoped for.

"Uh, sì." the older Italian replied, blinking at his younger sibling.

At Romano’s response, Veneziano’s face lit up with a wide smile, any trace of sadness, worry, or negativity vanishing in an instant. Without hesitation, he grabbed Romano’s wrist and dragged him to the kitchen before rushing to the fridge and yanking the door open.

He began pulling out plates, each holding a different Italian dish, and in no time, he had four of them expertly balanced on his arms like a waiter. The sight nearly made Romano’s heart drop—his brother wasn’t exactly the most careful person—but, to his relief, Veneziano managed to get them to the table without a single mishap.

"Look, look!" the younger Italian called out, drawing Romano’s attention to the table. "I made Risotto alla Milanese, Fegato alla Veneziana, Tajarin al Tartufo, and Casoncelli alla Bergamasca!" he pointed at each dish proudly.

"And—!" Italy exclaimed before hurrying back to the still-open fridge. He pulled out two more plates, each holding a dessert. "I also made Bonèt and Zabaione!" he added cheerfully. This time, he kicked the fridge door shut with his leg, causing it to wobble slightly before he carefully set the new plates on the already crowded table, filling it almost completely.

Just looking at the dishes his brother had brought out made the Southern nation's hunger spike tenfold. His stomach twisted even more painfully, and his mouth watered slightly at the sight. Ah, it had been so long since he’d had such good food—well, actually just a few days, but a few days felt like an eternity, so who cared?

"When did you even have time to make all this?" Romano asked, doing his best to tear his gaze away from the food before he lost all control and started inhaling it like a starving man.

"All day!" Veneziano declared, as if it were an accomplishment. "I stress-cooked the entire day!" He emphasized his point with a cheerful nod before gesturing toward Romano. "You absolutely have to try a bite of each, fratello!"

Fuck yes. There was no way Romano was going to say no to good food—especially Italian. But just as his hand instinctively reached out to grab something and his fingertips brushed against a plate, his eyes landed on his sleeve.

It took him a second to register that he was still wearing the same clothes from yesterday—the ones he’d worn at the art museum, through that whole hike, and even slept in.

The realization made him grimace. Absolutely unhygienic. Completely unacceptable for an Italian like himself. Yeah… he definitely needed to change.

Without a second thought, the Southern nation swiftly pulled his arm back, clasping his hands behind his back as a wave of self-consciousness washed over him.

"Ugh, actually," he muttered, forcing himself to look anywhere but at the food now. "I’ll eat in a sec, but I would like to take a shower first or something. And change." his voice was casual, but the awkwardness in his tone was unmistakable.

Veneziano blinked at him for a second before nodding in quick agreement. "Oh! Yeah, good idea, fratello!" he chirped. "You are still wearing the clothes from yesterday, huh? You should definitely change."

Romano felt his face heat up. "Tch! I know that!" he grumbled, quickly turning away and coughing to mask his embarrassment. "You don't have to rub it in my face..." he muttered under his breath before shaking his head. "Anyway, I’ll be back."

Without another word, Romano spun on his heel and hurried up the stairs, eager to grab some fresh clothes and take a shower—more than that, though, he wanted to escape before Veneziano could make any more comments about his messy appearance.

Once he reached his room, Romano wasted no time. He threw open his dresser, yanking out the first clean set of clothes he could find. He didn’t even bother inspecting them—after all, anything from his wardrobe would look good. With the clothes tucked under his arm, he rushed out of the room.

He skidded to a halt in the hallway, ready to fix himself up.

Except… there was one small problem.

The bathroom.

Where the hell was it again?

He halted in the hallway, glancing left, then right, his brows knitting together. He had used it before—obviously—but for the life of him, he couldn’t remember which door it was behind. Germany’s house had too many rooms. Seriously, why did the guy need so many?

Huffing in frustration, he marched down the hall, yanking open one door after another—closet, guest room, another closet—until, after what felt like an eternity, he finally found it.

With a relieved sigh, he slipped inside and shut the door behind him.

The shower was a much-needed relief. The warm water washed away every trace of grime and sweat, leaving him feeling lighter, more at ease. The only downside was the state of his hair. After nearly two days without touching a comb, it was an absolute mess. How had he let it get this bad? He hadn’t even noticed!

What should have been a quick rinse turned into several frustrating minutes of wincing and untangling stubborn knots. It took longer than he’d care to admit, but eventually, his hair was smooth again—no longer resembling a bird’s nest caught in a windstorm.

By the time he stepped out of the bathroom, the older Italian felt like a brand-new person—refreshed, put together, and, at last, socially acceptable again.

When he made his way back downstairs, he spotted Veneziano already seated at the table, happily munching on a bowl of risotto. At the sight of Romano, the Northern nation brightened and waved him over.

"Come sit, fratello!" he called cheerfully.

Romano didn't need to be told twice. He took his seat across from Veneziano, finally allowing himself to dig in.

For a while, the two ate in a comfortable silence, the only sounds being the clinking of utensils against their plates. Eventually, Veneziano broke the quiet. "Do you like it?" he asked eagerly.

Romano nodded, stuffing another forkful of pasta into his mouth. "Mmhm!" he grunted through the bite.

Veneziano beamed, a bright smile spreading across his face. "I'm glad!" he said with a cheerful laugh, clearly pleased with himself. Humming a little tune, he resumed eating. But as he chewed, a thought seemed to cross his mind, causing his smile to falter. The light in his eyes dimmed for a brief moment, and an unreadable emotion flickered across his face before he quickly masked it.

Romano, however, caught it. He paused, his fork halfway to his mouth, and titled his head slightly. "Che? What’s with that look?"

"Hm?" Veneziano blinked, then waved a dismissive hand. "Oh, nothing, nothing..." But the attempt at casualness fell flat. Romano could hear the strain in his voice.

Something was wrong.

Veneziano hesitated, his gaze flickering around the room as if searching for something to latch onto, some excuse to deflect whatever it was he truly wanted to say. But nothing seemed to come to him. In the end, he just sighed dramatically, pushing some plates away from himself before propping his elbows on the table and resting his head in his hands in something akin to defeat.

"Ah, fratello..." Veneziano exhaled, his voice heavy with weariness, as though the words he was about to speak were too much to bear. He turned his head slightly, his gaze lingering on the Southern nation with a hint of reluctance. Then, in a voice barely above a whisper, he murmured, "You know... Germany didn’t mean to do what he did…"

Hearing those words, the older Italian nearly choked on the bite he had just taken. Coughing, he struggled to force it down, barely managing to keep himself from spitting it out entirely. His throat burned, and his stomach twisted in a way that had nothing to do with hunger.

Why was his brother suddenly bringing up Germany? And THAT of all things? Romano had no desire to think about it—not now, not ever. It was too unpleasant, sending an awful crawling sensation over his skin.

Clearing his throat, he fixed Veneziano with a look, feigning ignorance despite knowing exactly what he had just heard. "What?"

The younger man held Romano’s gaze for a moment before letting out a quiet sigh, dropping his hands onto the table with a quiet thud. He rested his head against the wooden surface, picking at it absentmindedly, as if searching for the right words.

"Poor Germany has been up all night stressing out over what happened," he murmured. "He feels really guilty for what he did, especially after Prussia told him about your... um... insomnia."

Romano stiffened.

"He—what?"

Veneziano glanced up at him, tilting his head slightly. "Which, by the way, I’m really glad you told Prussia about," he continued, brushing past Romano’s clear discomfort. "I don’t know why or how, but I’m just glad you’re finally warming up to someone new. Oh, and… sorry," he added, wincing a little. "I know you wanted to keep this whole insomnia thing a secret, but, uh… it didn’t exactly work out that way—" he shook his head before quickly redirecting himself. "Ah, but I’m deviating from the subject…"

Veneziano exhaled again, shifting in his seat. "Look… I know your relationship with Germany has never been good. You two were never friends, and I know you probably never wanted to be—even if I wish you were, since, well…" he trailed off for a beat before pressing on, softer now. "He’s my boyfriend, and you’re my brother. And I hate that things have always been so tense between you."

Romano’s fingers clenched around his fork.

Veneziano hesitated. "And I know that after this, you probably hate him even more now. And that you probably don’t want to hear me talk about this anymore. But…" his gaze softened, almost pleading. "I just want you to know that he really does feel bad. And he’s sorry."

At first, Romano barely registered the words. His mind was too busy spiraling elsewhere—specifically over the fact that Prussia had told Germany about his insomnia. Aaaahhh. Prussia had been nice about it, sure, but Germany? Germany would definitely hold that against him, especially after the whole mess yesterday.

…Wait. That didn’t quite line up with what Veneziano had just said.

What had he said again?

Romano replayed his brother’s words in his head, actually processing them this time, and suddenly, his panic screeched to a halt.

Hold on a second.

Germany felt bad?

For him?

That was… surprising.

The fact that Germany didn’t still want to rip his guts out was bizarre. Romano hadn’t expected the bastard to pity him, and the thought of that made his stomach turn. He hated pity. But still, it was shocking. Why the hell would he feel guilty?Romano had brought all of that upon himself. It wasn’t as though Germany had attacked him out of nowhere—Romano had let the situation escalate, said things he shouldn’t have. Yet... somehow, Germany felt bad.

Romano didn’t know how to handle that. He wasn’t expecting to make things right with him. Hell, when he thought about it, he hadn’t even expected to make things right with Prussia. That just… happened. But Germany? He never imagined that would be a possibility.

Ah, what the hell? Why were things going so... so... okayish for him...?

Just hours ago, Romano had been convinced he was the worst kind of person—and honestly, he still kind of thought that. But that wasn’t the point. He had screwed up badly, made a mess of everything, and convinced himself that the three nations he’d been around for the past few days—especially Prussia and Germany—utterly despised him. He had fully expected to spend the rest of his life avoiding them, too ashamed to face the consequences of his mistakes.

And yet… somehow, things weren’t going the way he thought they would. The way they should have.

Somehow, things were actually… going well?

It was weird. No, beyond weird. It was downright unnerving.

He had made up with Prussia. He had finally gotten some real sleep after months of suffering. He had even reconciled with his brother. And now… now he was about to smooth things over with Germany too?

What the hell?!

His head ached from all the overthinking. Too many thoughts, too many emotions—too much of everything.

Fuck.

With his poor head feeling utterly whisked and overwhelmed by the swarm of thoughts racing through his mind, the only thing Romano managed to get out was a strained, "Right."

At Romano’s single, somewhat forced and vaguely irritated word, Veneziano blinked at him, a hint of worry and confusion in his expression. "Right...?" he echoed, as if testing the word himself.

South Italy let his fork fall onto the table with a soft clang before pressing a hand to his forehead, rubbing his temples as his brows drew together. "Right," he repeated, only deepening Veneziano’s confusion.

"What does that—Is that like a—" the Northern nation fumbled over his words, cutting himself off each time as if nothing he said felt quite right. He nervously chewed on his lower lip for a second before exhaling shakily. "Is that a good 'right'...? Or, uh… a bad one...?"

At the other's words, the Southern nation let out a heavy sigh, dragging his hand from his temples down his face as if trying to physically clear his mind. "I don't know," he muttered, his voice strained.

"...You don't know?" Italy repeated.

"I don't know!" Romano burst out, frustration creeping into his voice. "It's an 'I don't know' kind of right!"

"Oh… I see, uh." Veneziano winced, falling silent for a moment before hesitantly speaking again "But… is it a positive 'I don't know' or a negative one?"

"Ugh, Veneziano!" the older Italian groaned, pressing his hands over his face before slamming them onto the table, making the plates clatter. "I don’t know—God, I just don’t know!" he snapped again. "I need to… I need to think."

Though, honestly, what he probably needed was to stop thinking so damn much—but whatever.

Veneziano flinched slightly at the sudden noise but quickly masked it with an understanding nod, though the concern in his eyes remained. He studied his brother for a moment, watching the way his fingers twitched against the table, the way his jaw clenched and unclenched like he was fighting with himself. Then, in a much softer voice, he murmured, "Okay."

Romano drummed his fingers against the wooden table, his gaze fixed on the abandoned fork in front of him. He had always hated Germany—hated his efficiency, his orderliness, his food, and, most of all, how much Veneziano seemed to adore him. But even with all that, Romano could be fair.

It was a relief, honestly, to know that Germany didn’t see him as an enemy. The idea of that—of Germany declaring war on him—was terrifying. Romano wasn’t in any shape to deal with something like that. Luckily, that wasn’t going to happen. For some reason, the Western nation wasn’t angry anymore, even though he had every right to be.

Still, Romano could admit that what Germany had done hadn’t been uncalled for. If someone had said those kinds of things about his brother, he would’ve reacted the same way—probably worse. Protecting family was instinct. Anyone would do it. So, as much as he wanted to hold a grudge, he couldn’t really blame Germany.

Yeah, it had been terrifying in the moment. Just thinking about it still made his skin crawl. But he understood why the German had done what he had done.

And if Germany really did regret it… maybe Romano wasn’t as unwelcome here as he’d thought... Did that mean he wouldn’t have to stop attending meetings after all? He didn’t like them, but that didn’t mean he wanted to be forced out of them. If things were fine between them, then he wouldn’t have to change his life just to avoid the Western nation.

The thought made him feel a little calmer. South Italy took a deep breath, then, after what felt like an eternity, finally glanced at the other nation, who was already looking back at him, a hint of anxiety on his face. Romano parted his lips to speak, and Veneziano, eager to hear, quickly slid his chair closer.

"Um." the Southern nation muttered, feeling his words falter in his throat at his brother's gesture. He wasn’t comfortable talking about things that felt so foreign and sentimental, especially when all eyes were on him. But despite the urge to stay silent, he pushed through and spoke up. "...I think, uh... it's fine." he said, offering a small nod. "It's fine." he repeated.

The older Italian waited for the other man to speak, but Italy just stared at him, as if expecting him to keep going.

Romani clicked his tongue and crossed his arms. "What I mean is... I get why he did what he did, and I'm not gonna hold some pointless grudge against him or anything... if that's what you're worried about." he said, glancing at Veneziano, expecting a response. But when the younger man stayed silent, Romano pushed on. "I'm not upset or anything. Everything's fine. I don't hate your dumb boyfriend." he added, hoping Veneziano would finally understand and stop staring at him like he was a reporter spreading bad news. But Veneziano just kept looking at him, waiting for more, which made the dark-haired brunette's frustration rise.

There was no way he hadn’t been clear enough. Veneziano was definitely messing with him now.

Romano groaned loudly and slammed his fist onto the table. "Dio, I forgive him, okay? Is that what you wanna hear?"

At Romano’s words, Veneziano lit up like a Christmas tree, throwing his arms into the air as if he were at a concert waving light sticks rather than sitting at a table with his brother.

"Yupiii!" he cheered, beaming. "Everything is fixed now!"

Before Romano could react, Veneziano leaned over and wrapped him in a side hug. Romano stiffened for a moment, caught off guard, but then just rolled his eyes and gave him a light pat in return.

Romano wouldn’t go so far as to say everything was completely fixed—things like this took time to be forgotten and moved past—but he could admit that it was better.

The two Italians continued eating, with Italy rambling about the most random things while Romano gave short responses in return. Once they were done, they put the leftovers in the fridge and left their plates in the sink—neither of them particularly eager to do the dishes.

Afterward, they settled on the couch and attempted to watch a movie, but quickly grew bored and shut it off. Eventually, South Italy decided to step outside for some fresh air—well, sort of. He just opened the terrace door and peeked out without actually stepping outside, but that still counted.

The air was just as cold as before, but with the sun now setting, everything had a warm glow to it. Honestly, Germany wasn’t always ugly.

"Fratellooo!" Veneziano called out, snapping Romano out of his thoughts. "Close the door! It's freezing out there!"

South Italy glanced back at his brother and noticed how the younger man had wrapped his arms around himself, hunching slightly, more for dramatic effect than actual cold.

The older Itslian was ready to argue that it wasn’t that cold and that Veneziano was just overreacting, but before he could, a sharp gust of wind hit him, freezing him to his core. He quickly abandoned that thought and shut the terrace door without another word.

Returning to the couch, the Southern nation sat next to his brother but barely lasted a moment before getting up again, pacing restlessly around the living room. For the first time in months, he felt energized—too energized to just sit still. He needed to do something.

"What are you doing, fratello?" Italy asked, confusion evident in his voice as his brown eyes followed the older Italian's movements.

"Uh, I don’t know... I just feel really energized." Romano replied, pausing in the middle of the room. "I feel like I need to do something with all this energy." he added, then shrugged. "It’s weird."

Italy blinked in surprise before a soft smile spread across his face. “I don’t think it’s weird,” he said as he stood up and joined him. “I think it’s nice. And honestly, it’s how you should always feel!” he beamed, gently taking Romano’s hands—being careful with his injured one—and began to spin them in slow circles.

"What are you doing?” Romano asked, brows raised in confusion.

"Helping you do something with your energy!” Veneziano laughed.

Normally, Romano wouldn’t entertain Veneziano’s childish antics—his pride always held him back. But right now, he didn’t care. He had the energy, and for once, that was enough to make him go along with it.

"Wow! This is so much fun!" Italy laughed, his voice full of joy.

"Yeah!” Romano replied, breathless, a smile tugging at his lips before he could stop it.

Caught up in their moment, neither noticed the front door open, or the two Germans stepping into the room with grocery bags in hand.

“Ahem.”

The sound cut through their laughter like a blade. The brothers froze mid-spin, heads snapping toward the source of the voice.

Standing in the doorway were Germany and Prussia. Germany looked mildly uncomfortable, while Prussia wore an amused grin.

"I hope we’re not interrupting anything... important." Germany said, awkwardly avoiding eye contact as he shifted the bags in his arms.

At those words, the Southern nation felt himself shrink in embarrassment—this was absolutely mortifying. How did he always end up in these kinds of situations? Then again… this time it wasn’t his fault. Veneziano!

Unlike Romano, Italy seemed completely unbothered, his face lighting up at the sight of the two Germanic nations—specifically, his boyfriend.

"Germany!" the younger Italian called out, instantly darting away from Romano’s side and leaping into Germany’s arms, nearly knocking him over along with the bags he was holding.

"Italy—"the blonde exclaimed, struggling to keep everything from falling. "At least let me set these down first!"

Italy, however, didn’t really listen to Germany—when did he ever? He continued to hover around the blonde, chattering on about so many things that it was hard to keep track of it all.

Prussia, witnessing the scene, snorted and shook his head at their antics. He shifted the bags he had in one hand, then moved toward his younger brother, taking the bags from him with the other. Germany gave him a grateful nod before Prussia headed into the kitchen, setting the groceries down next to the fridge.

Romano fanned his face, trying to cool the flush that had overtaken him. As the embarrassment finally began to fade, he became aware of the fact that Germany and Prussia had returned.

Prussia had returned.

His gaze instinctively locked onto the albino. And in that moment, it felt like Prussia was the only one in the room.

It was strange. Just a day ago, Romano had wanted nothing to do with him. He’d gone out of his way to avoid the former nation, unwilling to speak to him or even be near him. But now… now he felt the exact opposite.

Funny how a single, simple action could flip your entire perception of someone. Although... what Prussia had done for him wasn’t exactly “simple" was it?

Romano hadn’t thought much about it until now, but one thing was clear—he needed to thank him. No… he wanted to thank him.

Without thinking, the dark-haired brunette circled around Veneziano and Germany, not paying them any mind, and made his way into the kitchen where Prussia was busy fitting the groceries into the fridge.

The albino was organizing the items by size, so absorbed in his task that he didn’t notice Romano right away.

The Southern half of Italy shifted awkwardly on his feet as he waited for the former nation to look up. When it became clear Prussia wasn’t going to notice him anytime soon, Romano instinctively raised a hand to tap his shoulder—but froze halfway, second-guessing himself. For some reason, he felt unusually nervous, though he couldn’t pinpoint why. Maybe it was simply because he wasn’t used to this kind of situation.

He stayed quiet for a moment longer, then took a deep breath and finally found the courage to speak. “…Hey, bastard?”

Romano spoke softly, but someone suddenly addressing him, Prussia, caught the German off guard. Not expecting anyone to be so close, and with his head still in the fridge, he straightened up too quickly, smacking his head on the top shelf. The impact made Prussia hiss in pain, and he immediately cradled his head in his hands.

The dark-haired Italian’s eyes widened in surprise, a wave of guilt washing over him as he nervously hovered next to the former nation. "I didn’t mean to—uh—" he stammered, struggling to find his words. "Are you... okay?"

At the sound of Romano’s voice, Prussia blinked, then lowered a hand from his head, turning to look at the Italian with mild surprise. The surprise quickly faded, replaced by a soft smile as he straightened up, continuing to rub his sore head with one hand.

"Roma, hey, what's up?" the ex-nation asked, completely forgetting about the fridge and the groceries.

"Uh..." Romano murmured, feeling even more awkward with Prussia’s red eyes locked onto him.

What had he come to say again? Oh right, to thank him. But he hadn’t planned how to do it, and now he was at a loss for words. Aaa, stupid.

His hazel eyes instinctively shifted away from Prussia’s face, focusing on the hand the albino was running through his hair instead, trying to calm his racing thoughts. Prussia, however, misinterpreted it, thinking Romano was concerned about him—though, to be fair, Romano did feel bad that Prussia had hit his head because of him.

"Ah, don't worry, I’ve taken worse hits than that.” he said, dropping his hand to emphasize his point. "I'm fine."

"Right." the Southern nation replied, giving a small nod. He took a moment to gather his thoughts and was just about to speak when, much to his frustration, the former nation cut him off.

"How are you feeling, by the way?" Prussia asked, his tone a touch softer. "Did you manage to sleep okay?" he gave Romano the same gentle look as yesterday, causing the Italian to momentarily lose his ability to think.

"I—uh..." Romano hesitated, stumbling over his words. He mentally cursed at himself, trying to calm down. "Yes." he said finally, though his voice was a little shaky. "I mean, I'm okay, and... I slept, uh, pretty well, actually."

Hearing that, Prussia raised a fist in triumph, his grin growing wider. "Hell yeah!" he cheered, then gave Romano a light nudge. "See? I told you, you didn’t need those pills to sleep!"

Romano looked away, giving a small nod as he chewed on the inside of his cheek. Normally, he would’ve shot back with a retort, but this time, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Instead, he found himself silently agreeing with the albino.

Prussia looked genuinely pleased with Romano's response, and to the Italian's surprise, he took a step closer. Romano’s heart skipped a beat, his mind racing with emotions he couldn’t quite place, before Prussia suddenly ruffled his hair, startling him.

"Hey—what the?!" the Italian exclaimed, instantly swatting Prussia’s hand away and running his fingers through his hair in an attempt to fix it. "The hell?!"

Prussia let out a carefree laugh, clearly amused by the reaction, before snapping his fingers as if a sudden thought had struck him. "Oh, I totally forgot to give these to you!"

The albino crouched down to one of the grocery bags on the floor, rummaging through it quickly before springing back up with a small plastic packet in his hand.

Still reeling from the unexpected hair ruffle, the Southern nation blinked at the albino in confusion. His thoughts were still scrambled, but before he could ask any questions or even react properly, Prussia abruptly shoved something into his hands. Romano instinctively curled his fingers around the small package, glancing down at it in surprise. As he examined it more closely, realization dawned on him—it was a packet of biscuits. But not just any biscuits. Cantuccini. Italian biscuits.

"What…?" Romano muttered, glancing between Prussia and the package.

Prussia shifted his weight, rubbing the back of his neck. "But, uh, you don’t have to take it if you don’t want to," he added quickly. "I just saw it was Italian and thought, y’know, maybe you’d like it. Figured it might make you feel a little closer to home or whatever, but if you don’t want it, that’s cool—"

"No!" Romano cut in abruptly, shaking his head before Prussia could ramble any further. "I—I like Cantuccini." he glanced down at the package in his hands, then back up at Prussia, his eyes slightly wide. "It’s good."

For a moment, Prussia just stared at him, like he hadn’t expected Romano to actually accept it. Then, as if something clicked, his face lit up with a grin.

"Awesome!" he said, beaming. "Glad to know I got it right!"

The Italian swiftly looked away, his face growing warm. Prussia had bought him biscuits… but why? Since when was he so... what was the word? Considerate?

Thinking back to their past interactions—especially that time at the art museum when Prussia had gotten him chocolate, which he’d stubbornly refused—Romano couldn’t help but realize something. Prussia had always been like this. The difference was that back then, Romano had assumed it was just another way for the albino to mess with him. But in reality… that probably hadn’t been the case.

Romano really needed to thank Prussia… Okay. It was now or never. He took a deep breath, gripping the biscuit packet just a little tighter.

"Uh, Prussia?" Romano muttered, cringing at how awkward he sounded. But Prussia didn’t seem to notice—he was too caught up in the fact that the Southern nation had actually used his name instead of an insult.

"Yeah?"

Alright. Just say it. Say thank you. It’s not that hard—

"I—"

"Fratellooooo!" Romano winced as Veneziano’s voice echoed from the other room, instantly making the words he had been about to say vanish, along with all the courage he had mustered.

Veneziano! Read the room, God damn it!

Prussia’s attention shifted as he looked away from Romano and toward Veneziano, causing the Southern nation to stifle a groan.

"Romanooo! Come here for a second!" Veneziano called again, his voice slightly more urgent this time.

Romano gritted his teeth. Damn it, he had been so close. The dark-haired brunette, now slightly irritated, turned to respond to his brother, but before he could say anything, Veneziano suddenly appeared beside him, practically bouncing on his heels as he grabbed his wrist. "You have to come now!" he urged, tugging at him lightly.

"Hi to you too, little Italy." the former nation said, waving at the younger Italian. This made Veneziano pause in his attempt to drag Romano away, turning to smile at him.

"Oh, hi Prussia!" Italy chirped, giving a small wave before gesturing toward his brother. "Mind if I borrow Romano for a bit?"

At that, the albino glanced between the two, as if he wanted to say something more, but in the end, he just shrugged. "Eh, sure." he said with his usual grin, clearly amused by the whole situation.

Romano cast Prussia a halfhearted glare but sighed, reluctantly allowing himself to be pulled away. As the younger Italian led him off, he felt a pang of disappointment settle in his chest. Why was it so damn hard to say two simple words? Just thank you, for crying out loud. But before he could dwell on it, Veneziano’s gaze dropped to the packet still clutched in his hands.

“Oh, is that Cantuccini?” he asked, sounding delighted.

South Italy blinked, then gave a small nod. “Yeah.”

"How nice!" Veneziano beamed. "I love Cantuccini!"

Romano mumbled something resembling agreement under his breath, letting out a huff.

As they passed the table, he quickly set the packet down, not wanting to carry it around wherever the hell Veneziano was taking him. To his surprise, the Northern nation led him straight to Germany.

Romano froze mid-step, a jolt of unease shooting through him. Wait. What?

"What the hell are you doing?" he hissed under his breath, digging his heels into the floor. But Veneziano kept pulling, barely struggling against Romano’s resistance.

The hazel-eyed man twisted his arm, trying to break free, but Italy only tightened his grip, putting all his strength into dragging him forward. "Germany has something he'd like to say to you." he huffed.

Romano scowled. "What the hell does that bastard want to say to me?"

Veneziano puffed out his cheeks, visibly frustrated with his brother’s stubbornness. "He wants to apologize!"

Romano was about to retort when the words finally sank in. His mouth snapped shut.

Oh.

An apology…

Germany wanted to apologize… Romano had assumed Veneziano had already done that for him, given that the German seemed unwilling to talk to him—or maybe just felt too guilty. He hadn’t expected him to actually want to apologize face-to-face. Should Romano apologize too? He didn’t really want to, but he had been a bit harsh on Germany as well.

Noticing his brother’s hesitation, Veneziano seized the opportunity and tugged him forward again. This time, Romano didn’t resist. With a sigh, he let himself be dragged until he found himself standing a short distance from the Germanic nation.

Veneziano made a move to step away, but Romano immediately grabbed his arm and yanked him back, shooting him a look that screamed don’t you dare leave. There was no way he was staying alone with Germany. He needed moral support—not because he was scared or anything, but because this whole situation was really uncomfortable, which, in his opinion, was completely valid.

With a deep exhale, he folded his arms over his chest and, after a brief moment of hesitation, flicked his gaze up to meet Germany’s.

Though, it seemed he wasn’t the only one feeling uneasy.

Germany looked even worse off. The blonde was stiff as a board, visibly awkward. His jaw was locked tight, and his arms hung so rigidly at his sides that he seemed unsure of what to do with them.

Well, at least the discomfort was mutual.

Germany brought a hand to his mouth and cleared his throat. "I wanted to apologize," he said, his voice firm yet slightly strained. His gaze briefly flickered to the side before settling back on Romano. "For… getting physical with you. I should have controlled myself better, thought before acting, and not let my impulsiveness take over." he admitted before exhaling. "I’m sorry."

Romano blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the bluntness of the apology. Then again, Germany was always blunt, so he supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised.

The blue-eyed man hesitated, his posture still stiff with tension, before pressing on. "I just— I was angry. Because of what you said to mein Bruder, and—"

Romano interrupted before he could finish. "I get it," he said, shaking his head. "You don’t have to explain. I would’ve done the same if someone said that to Veneziano. I do get it." And he really did. At least that was part of the truth. The other part was that he wasn’t in the mood for some long-winded explanation or speech—knowing Germany, he probably had a whole damn presentation ready.

Some of the tension eased from the blonde’s shoulders, and he gave a small nod, looking a little more relaxed. Romano took that as a good sign and pressed forward.

"I'm also..." South Italy cringed, feeling the apology crawling up his throat but forced it out. "... sorry for, you know."

"It's fine." Germany quickly said. "You had your reasons."

An awkward silence settled between them, and Romano thought about making his exit—maybe heading back to Prussia. But before he could move, Germany reached into his pocket, pulled something out, and held it out toward him.

The older Italian raised an eyebrow. "What’s this?"

Germany cleared his throat before explaining. "Magnesium. It’s a supplement."

Romano stared at the small container in the other’s hands, baffled. "…Huh?"

"It’s supposed to help with sleep. And it’s healthy." Germany clarified.

Romano stared at Germany, completely caught off guard. He remained still for a moment before hesitantly taking the container. Turning it over in his fingers, he examined it cautiously. He hadn’t expected this—especially from Germany, of all people. The guy had never seemed to like him, so… why?

It was… thoughtful? Could he even call it that? Thoughtful. The word felt strange.

For so long, he had convinced himself that if Germany or Prussia ever found out about his insomnia, they’d mock him for it. That they’d see him as pathetic, make fun of him for struggling with something as basic as sleeping. But… that didn’t seem to be the case.

Prussia had listened to him, had actually helped him sleep. And now Germany, of all people, was giving him this—something to help him with his problem.

Romano wasn’t used to this—at all. He was accustomed to expecting the worst from people and receiving exactly that in return. But this... this goodness was unexpected. It made him wonder: had he really made such a mess out of something he shouldn’t have stressed over? Had he been overreacting this entire time? Maybe… maybe if he had listened to his brother and told the Germans about his insomnia from the start, all of this could’ve been avoided, and no one would’ve been hurt.

Romano swallowed, glancing up at Germany again before muttering. "…Thanks."

For some reason, it felt easier to thank Germany than Prussia. Romano couldn’t quite figure out why, but he didn’t have much time to dwell on it because Veneziano suddenly started clapping loudly, snapping him out of his thoughts.

"Hurray!!" Veneziano cheered, his face lighting up with a bright smile. "I'm so happy! Does this mean you two are friends now?!" he asked cheerfully, bouncing around Romano, who was at a loss for words. Germany seemed just as distraught. Well, the older Italian supposed they had that in common.

"What’s got you all smiles, little Italy?" Prussia suddenly asked as he strolled into the living room, coming to stand beside his brother. He shot Germany a raised eyebrow and mouthed something—probably in German—his red eyes briefly flicking toward Romano. Germany gave a vague nod in response, and immediately, Prussia brightened. He clapped Germany on the shoulder in a reassuring gesture before stuffing his hands into the pockets of his hoodie and turning his attention to the Italians.

Italy finally stopped hopping around and stood still. "I’m just happy everything’s okay now!" he said, practically glowing with excitement. "It feels like a huge weight has been lifted off my shoulders!"

Prussia chuckled and nodded. "Yeah, I can agree with that, North!"

Veneziano hummed contentedly, rocking on his heels as he glanced around the room. His gaze landed on the clock hanging on the wall. "Wow, it’s already evening," he remarked, gesturing toward it. He paused for a moment, looking thoughtful, before his face lit up again. Clasping his hands together excitedly, he exclaimed, "You know what we should do? We should go out and celebrate!"

Germany hesitated, his brows drawing together in uncertainty. "I’m not sure that’s a good idea." he murmured, instinctively glancing at Romano, recalling all too well how Veneziano’s last idea had gone horribly wrong.

Oblivious, Italy waved off his concerns. "Don’t worry, Germany, this time there won’t be any extreme walking or anything crazy—I'm totally over that! Just a nice, relaxing hangout!" he promised with a reassuring smile.

"I’m not sure—" the blonde began, but before he could finish, Prussia interrupted.

"No, no, West, little Italy’s got a point!" he said with a grin before turning to Veneziano. "Hey, you know that fair that opens every year before winter?"

Veneziano nodded.

"Well, it’s open! West and I passed by it on our way to the store—it’s all set up!"

"Seriously?!" Veneziano’s grin widened.

"Yup! We should totally go check it out!" Prussia said, matching the Northern nation’s energy.

Hearing that, Veneziano nearly squealed. "Yes, yes, yes!" he cheered excitedly. "I had no idea it had opened!" his eyes lit up even more as he glanced at his brother, who looked really confused. "Romano’s never been there before since he hardly ever visits Germany! This is perfect! We have to take him—he needs to see how fun it is!"

"Uh..." Romano muttered, glancing between his brother and Prussia, who both seemed way too excited.

Germany pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. "We go there every year, and every time, you two waste a ridiculous amount of money on useless junk." he muttered. Before he could say anything more, Veneziano dramatically flung himself at him in an over-the-top display of pleading.

"Germany, pleaseeee!" he whined dramatically, clasping his hands together. "Romano needs to see it! Please, please, please, pleeeeease!"

Germany shook his head, a barely noticeable smile forming on his face, already knowing there was no getting out of this. "...Fine." he muttered.

Veneziano immediately brightened. "Yay!"

Romano, however, only frowned. "What the hell are you all talking about?"

Veneziano turned to him, grabbing the Southern nation’s arm and giving him a light shake. "It's a fair with lots of fun stuff, cotton candy, and little stands with things you can buy! It's really cool!"

Romano understood a bit more now, or at least as much as he could, given his brother's unique way of explaining things. He glanced at the clock, his frown deepening. "...Isn’t it kind of late for that?" he asked. The idea of going to a fair was tempting—he hadn't been to one in who knows how long—but he really didn’t want to put himself through anything too tiring. He’d had enough walking and enough of everything, really.

Noticing his hesitation, Veneziano’s excitement faltered. "Oh... right." he dropped Romano’s arm. "Are you up for this? Going out?" he asked, then turned quickly to the Germans without waiting for an answer. "If Romano doesn’t want to go, then we won’t go anywhere!" he declared, his voice full of determination. "We can just celebrate at home!"

Both Germany and Prussia looked at Romano with sympathetic expressions. Romano instantly cringed. He appreciated his brother’s concern, but the way they were all looking at him—as if he were fragile—made him feel pathetic.

He looked away, eyes dropping to the floor. Part of him wanted to stay home. Things still felt a little tense between them all, and honestly, he wasn’t sure a “hangout” was the best idea. But another part of him, the irrational part, couldn’t help but think: maybe if they went, maybe—just maybe—he’d finally have the chance to properly thank Prussia.

"I don't mind going..." he muttered under his breath.

At his words, the Northern nation looked surprised, then quickly gave him a poke in the arm. “You sure about that?”

"Yes, idiot." Romano huffed, swatting his hand away. "I'm sure."

"Extra-super sure?" Veneziano pressed on.

Romano rolled his eyes. "Sì. Extra-super sure."

At that, Veneziano broke into a wide grin, one that could rival the sun itself. "It’s really close!" he assured the older Italian. "And it won't be tiring at all! You'll definitely like it!"

Without waiting, he grabbed Romano’s arm and tugged him toward the coat rack, nearly making him stumble.

Romano glanced over his shoulder. The German brothers had started moving too, following after them. His gaze lingered on Prussia in particular, and before he could stop himself, he muttered in response to Veneziano. "I don’t doubt it."

Chapter Text

Romano was walking—if you could even call it that—in what had to be the most awkward way he'd ever moved in his life. He trudged alongside Prussia with tense shoulders, clenched teeth, and steps so clumsy it was as if he’d forgotten how to walk like a normal human being. It wasn’t his fault though—okay, maybe it was, but that wasn't the point—his legs just weren’t cooperating with him. Actually, his whole body was being uncooperative, even his arms. One moment he had his hands shoved in his coat pockets, the next they were folded across his chest, then suddenly swinging stiffly at his sides like he was trying to remember what arms were supposed to do. Augh! Why the hell was he walking like a malfunctioning robot?

The Italian frowned in frustration, annoyed at how ridiculous he was being. If it were physically possible, he would’ve kicked himself.

Now, at this point, you might be asking: what the hell was going on? Why were Romano and Prussia walking together—alone—without Germany or Veneziano anywhere in sight? And why was Romano on the verge of a combusting over a simple walk?

Well, the answer was quite simple. Or… not actually that simple. But simple enough. Kind of... Anyway!

It had all started when they arrived at the fair. To Romano’s surprise, it was much larger and far more cheerful than he’d expected from a German fair. Then again, he’d never actually been to one before, so he didn’t have much to compare it to.

Bright lights dangled from every stall, casting a warm, golden glow over the cobblestone paths. Colorful banners fluttered in the evening breeze, while the air was thick with the scent of roasted chestnuts, sweet pastries, and cotton candy. Laughter from children echoed in the distance, and lively music filled the square from a full band performing on a central stage, transitioning so smoothly between songs it was hard to tell where one ended and the next began.

Romano had to admit, grudgingly, that it was actually kind of nice. He usually wasn’t a fan of fairs or anything like that, mostly because he hated crowded spaces. But this one… this one was different. Maybe it was because it wasn’t too busy yet. He figured most people came later in the evening when the fair lit up with all its multicolored lights and fireworks. Or maybe it was because, for once, he was actually well-rested and able to see the beauty in things instead of being grouchy, pissed off, and refusing to take part in anything. Or maybe it was something else entirely. Whatever the reason, Romano was just glad he could finally enjoy something without hating every second of it.

The four of them had spent the first hour just wandering around, checking out the stands and even trying some German food. At first, both Romano and Veneziano flat-out refused to even look at it, let alone try it. But after some persistent urging from Germany and especially Prussia, who kept insisting they’d actually like it, the Italians finally gave in. And honestly? It wasn’t the worst thing ever. Okay, it wasn’t amazing either, but still, pretty decent. (Which, in Romano’s language, meant “actually pretty good,” though there was no way he’d ever admit that out loud after spending so much time hating on German food. He had his pride.) So, all in all, a win-win.

They also tried a few fair games—simple stuff like that ring toss where you throw rings over wooden sticks to win prizes. It was way harder than it looked. The rings were too small, the sticks were too far away, and Romano was convinced it was a scam. Not that he cared much about winning anyway, so it didn’t bother him. Veneziano, on the other hand, was determined to land a ring, not even for the prizes, just for the satisfaction of getting it on the farthest stick. He played three rounds and failed spectacularly each time, sulking dramatically afterward.

Germany gave it a try too, purposely missing just to make Veneziano feel better, which, unsurprisingly, worked. Then there was Prussia, who got way too into it and nearly knocked over the whole booth with one overenthusiastic throw. Romano thought it was kind of hilarious, not that he’d ever admit it.

After that, they moved on to balloon darts. That went well… until Veneziano accidentally hit the booth worker with a dart. Thankfully, the guy was fine. They tried a few more games after that, and honestly? It had all been really fun. Way more enjoyable than most of the things they'd done before, which usually just left Romano feeling tired, irritated, and emotionally drained.

He hadn’t really had the time to think things through properly, not with everything being so hectic, full of apologies, and just... a lot. But now, as he kept having fun with the other nations, his mind finally started to clear, and one thought kept circling back: he still couldn’t believe how everything had somehow worked out in the end… for the better.

For all the misfortune and hatred from the Gods, the universe, or whatever was up there that had given him this life and the so-called gift of immortality, Romano could admit that, for once, he actually felt lucky.

Still, even with the fun and that strange feeling of fortune, one thing kept nagging at him: he hadn’t managed to thank Prussia yet. It wasn’t that he hadn’t tried. No, he’d made several attempts. The problem was, it just never worked out.

First, he’d tried right after they arrived, but Veneziano had interrupted him, dragging him to a booth selling candied apples. Then, again, while they were just walking around, but as soon as Romano opened his mouth, Germany started lecturing Prussia about “spending his money wisely” because, apparently, the guy had been buying too much junk food. Finally, when they took a break on a bench, and Veneziano and Germany got wrapped up in their own conversation, completely ignoring him and the former nation, Romano thought—maybe this was his chance. But just as he gathered the nerve to speak, a sudden burst of loud pop music from the damn stage made him jump, and his courage fizzled out.

He’d failed. Every. Single. Time. He could’ve cursed himself.

When the four of them finally got moving again, Romano tried to come up with another way to thank the ex-nation. But before he could even form an idea, Veneziano suddenly gasped and pointed excitedly at a booth across the fairgrounds. He shouted something about a “super romantic couple’s challenge” and followed it up with a dramatic, “Germany, we have to try it, we're a couple!”

Without a moment’s hesitation, he latched onto Germany’s arm, declared it fate, and whisked the taller man away before anyone had the chance to object, leaving Romano and Prussia standing there, alone.

Which was how Romano ended up here: walking beside Prussia. Just the two of them. No one else... aside from the dozens of people wandering about. It should’ve been a good thing. Without his brother or Germany around to interrupt, now was the perfect chance to finally thank the former nation. But it wasn't a good thing. Not at all.

For some reason, the fact that it was just him and Prussia was making Romano feel… off. Awkward? No, that wasn’t quite it. Uncomfortable? Not exactly. It was more like he felt lightheaded, almost dizzy, and he couldn’t figure out why. His palms were clammy, his heartbeat was picking up, and he kept nervously chewing on his lip. It was strange.

And to make matters worse, it was getting late. The sky had deepened into shades of indigo and violet, and more people were pouring into the fairgrounds. What had once been a pleasantly busy atmosphere now felt crowded, far too crowded for Romano’s liking. Elbows bumped him from every direction, and the rising volume of chatter turned into an overwhelming buzz in his ears.

It was all too much.

Damn it. He had no idea when or how he was going to find the right moment to thank the former nation.

Romano let out a long sigh, eyes dropping to the ground as he stepped over scattered confetti and other colorful scraps littering the path. He clenched his fists and swallowed hard before daring a quick glance at the man beside him.

In contrast to him, Prussia looked completely at ease. Too at ease. Hands stuffed casually in his pockets, head tilted toward the sky, whistling what was probably some German tune. He didn’t seem the least bit fazed by the growing crowd around them, walking along like it was just another peaceful stroll. No tension, no awkwardness, nothing like what Romano was feeling.

The albino must have sensed Romano staring, because he suddenly turned his head toward him. Caught off guard, the Italian quickly looked away, avoiding eye contact and mentally scolding himself for gawking like some kind of weirdo.

Another moment passed, and unfortunately, Romano wasn’t one to learn from his mistakes, because he snuck another glance at the other man. This time, though, Prussia was already looking at him. Their eyes met, and a smirk slowly curved on the former nation’s lips, his eyes gleaming with amusement.

"What?” he said with a soft laugh. “Something wrong with my awesome face?” he pointed at himself for emphasis, his voice carrying that familiar teasing edge.

Romano tensed but quickly forced himself to play it cool. He gave a small shake of his head. "No,” he mumbled, cheeks growing warm. “It’s just… your hair looks messed up,” he lied, averting his gaze. “You should fix it.”

"My hair?" Prussia repeated, blinking.

"Yes," Romano said with a quick nod, even though there was nothing actually wrong with the other’s hair. He just needed an excuse to escape the awkwardness of being caught staring. "It's all over the place."

Prussia arched an eyebrow, then burst out laughing. “Damn, South,” he said with a grin. “You never miss a beat to critique someone, huh?” he teased, raking his fingers through his hair a few times. Then, without warning, he gave Romano a light nudge, making the Italian jolt slightly in surprise.

"How’s this?" the white-haired man asked, halting and turning his head toward him with a dramatically expectant look.

Romano hesitated as he slowly shifted his gaze back to Prussia. His eyes briefly scanned the other’s hair, and he was about to quickly say yes to avoid further awkwardness. But just as he opened his mouth, he shut it again.

Technically, Prussia had tried to smooth down his hair, but somehow it ended up looking even worse. Some strands were sticking up like static-charged feathers, while others were flattened in all the wrong directions. It looked as though he'd blow-dried his hair and completely forgotten to brush it afterward.

Romano blinked, quickly looking away as he had to fight the urge to smile at how ridiculous Prussia looked. Taking a deep breath, he masked his amusement and put on his most serious expression. “It looks stupid.”

Prussia lifted both eyebrows, putting on an exaggeratedly shocked expression, more for show than anything else. "Eh? Why's that?"

“You made it worse." the brunette remarked. "Now you look like a scarecrow.”

"Wow, you wound me Roma." Prussia said, shaking his head with a sigh before his grin grew even wider. “Alright then, since you've got such a keen eye for this sort of thing, why don’t you go ahead and fix it for me?" he said, his tone disturbingly casual for the suggestion he had just made.

Romano froze, his eyes widening.

Fix it? Fix his hair? Did he mean that literally? As in, actually touch his hair? Something about Prussia’s proposal sent Romano’s mind into a frenzy, his thoughts short-circuiting and nearly catching fire. His heart rate shot up and his breathing became increasingly erratic.

What does he expect me to do? Romano thought to himself in a panic. Just reach over and casually run my fingers through his soft, messy white hair? Just like that? HUH??

It seemed like such a simple, meaningless gesture, yet Romano felt himself melt like an ice cream left out in the heat of July.

Before the Southern nation could act—or possibly collapse right then and there—a random man suddenly shoved his way through, offering no apology as he wedged his shoulder between them, breaking whatever moment they had been having. Both Romano and Prussia staggered back in opposite directions, caught off guard by the sudden interruption.

Romano caught himself just in time, narrowly avoiding a fall onto the floor that looked like it hadn’t seen a proper cleaning in years. He exhaled sharply, then scowled as his eyes swept over the crowd of humans in front of him, silently cursing the man who’d dared to shove him like that. He despised people like that, completely indifferent to others, doing whatever they pleased without a hint of concern. It was selfish, inconsiderate, and utterly wrong.

Before the Southern nation could dwell on his frustration, the albino approached him and lightly tapped him on the shoulder, causing his head to snap up and his scowl to ease.

"You ok?" the German asked, his red eyes flickering over him.

"Sì,” Romano replied with a sigh, his lips pressing into a thin line. He turned his attention back to the sea of people, annoyance creeping back into his expression. “What a jerk." he muttered under his breath, more to himself than anyone else, though loud enough for Prussia to hear.

"Yeah… sorry about that. People get a little crazy when the lights go out.” the ex-nation gestured to the sky, which was nearly pitch black now. “Guess it’s just part of the atmosphere,” he added thoughtfully, then shrugged, his face shifting into an apologetic expression. “But don’t hold it against my people. They’re just having fun, y’know? They can’t always stick to the rules, they need to let loose sometimes."

Romano shot him a side glance. “Letting loose shouldn’t mean acting like animals,” he muttered, his tone lacking any real anger. “Fun shouldn’t come at someone else’s expense.” he added, brushing off his coat, though it was perfectly clean.

The white-haired man let out a short laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. "True, but humans aren't exactly known for moderation, especially when things like this are involved," he said, gesturing around the fair. Then, with a raised eyebrow, he added, "And let’s not forget, your people are way worse than mine when they let loose."

The dark-haired brunette gasped in surprise, though he couldn’t argue. His people were known for socializing and partying nearly every day—festivity and vibrancy were part of their culture. “Yeah, but at least they do it with class,” he muttered. “Not like these guys.”

The Germanic nation grinned, amused by Romano’s response. As they stood there, unmoving, more people bumped into them as they stumbled by. One particularly careless bump almost sent Romano stumbling again, but he quickly steadied himself, his hand instinctively gripping Prussia’s arm for support.

Seriously, what was wrong with these people? One would think they were running from a tsunami, not just attending a fair.

Prussia glanced over at him, his grin softening. “We should probably move. If we stay here any longer, we’re gonna get trampled." he suggested, earning a nod from Romano, who was already fed up with being shoved around by strangers high on fun.

The albino glanced around, his eyes scanning the bustling area, before something seemed to catch his attention. A bright idea sparked in his mind, and he turned to Romano, excitement lighting up his face. "Hey, have you ever tried Baumkuchen?"

The Italian blinked, tilting his head in confusion. "Uh... No?" he replied, unsure of what the former nation was talking about.

At his words, Prussia suddenly reached out and took Romano’s hand—abruptly, yet with surprising gentleness, as if remembering the injury to his hand. He lifted their interlocked hands into the air, causing the Italian's heart to skip a beat. "Well, today’s your lucky day!” the red-eyed man declared with pride, then, without warning, started weaving through the crowd, pulling Romano along with him.

South Italy couldn’t even respond, his mind completely blank, fixated on the wrong thing. He wasn’t even thinking about whatever Prussia wanted him to try. Instead, his focus was entirely on their interlocked hands and the surprising warmth of the former nation's grip.

Despite the freezing cold, the German's hand felt like a furnace against his own. Romano couldn’t help but wonder how Prussia’s hands were always so warm. Even back then, on that couch, when he had been crying his eyes out and the albino had taken his hands, they had been just as warm.

Maybe it was all that boundless energy the Germanic nation seemed to carry, or perhaps it was something in his German blood that kept the cold at bay. Whatever the reason, that warmth made Romano’s chest feel oddly light, and he found himself wishing he could hold onto it for as long as possible.

But just as quickly as he had taken Romano's hand, Prussia let go. The Italian blinked in surprise at the sudden loss of contact, feeling an unexpected sense of disappointment. His gaze dropped to his now-cold hand, and for a brief moment, he frowned, unable to shake the strange feeling. He quickly shook his head, trying to snap himself out of whatever it was he was feeling. It was probably just because he wasn’t used to holding hands with anyone outside his family. Yeah, that had to be it.

Romano glanced over at Prussia, only to find that the other man was no longer beside him. He had already made his way to a small food stand, waving cheerfully at the owner. Speaking in German, he pointed at the shop window and held up two fingers. The owner nodded in response, then began picking up what looked like cake, placing it on two plates before exchanging them for cash from Prussia. The albino grinned and quickly made his way back to Romano.

"Here!" the German exclaimed, handing one of the plates to the hazel-eyed man.

The Southern half of Italy took the plate, eyeing the cake with mild curiosity as he raised an eyebrow. "More German food?" he asked, pulling the plate closer and rotating it slightly in his hands, trying to figure out what the dessert was made of.

"German cake!” Prussia corrected proudly, taking a large bite of his own slice. He chewed with satisfaction, eyes lighting up as if he’d just tasted something divine. After swallowing, he gave Romano an eager look, clearly far too happy for someone who had just eaten some simple cake. “Totally different thing,” he added then nodded toward Romano’s plate. “Come on, give it a try! It’s really good!”

South Italy eyed the cake for another moment before finally giving in and taking a small bite. And, true to the other’s words, it was actually pretty good. Sweet, soft, and layered—it reminded him a little of Torta delle rose, the kind of cake he’d grown up with back home. There was something oddly comforting in the flavor, even if it was foreign. He had to admit, he was starting to not hate German cuisine as much anymore—well, at least the stuff that was actually edible. He still wouldn’t touch potatoes or sausages even if someone held a gun to his head.

“...It’s not bad." the Southern nation muttered, doing his best to sound indifferent. Still, the fact that he kept eating the cake spoke volumes. If he’d actually hated it, he would’ve spat it out on the spot and gone on a dramatic rant about being poisoned.

Prussia chuckled, seeing straight through Romano's attempt at indifference, though he kept quiet and just gave him an amused look. They ate in silence for a few minutes, the music from the band booming around them, until the albino broke the quiet.

"You know," he began, flashing the Italian a crooked grin. "this is actually pretty great."

The dark-haired brunette glanced at him, a puzzled expression on his face. "The... cake?"

The German blinked, his smile shifting to a sheepish one. "Uh, well, yes, the cake too, but I meant this." he gestured between them. Romano’s confusion only grew, and he stared at Prussia for a moment, trying to make sense of what he meant. After a beat of silence, something seemed to click in his mind, and his confusion turned into surprise.

"Me and... you?" the Italian said aloud, momentarily forgetting about the cake as his gaze locked onto the albino's red eyes. He stared at him, features etched with disbelief.

"Yeah," Prussia replied with a small nod, though his gaze shifted away, avoiding Romano’s eyes. There was something different in his tone—softer, almost hesitant. Nervous? Romano narrowed his eyes, unsure if he was just imagining it.

Then Prussia spoke again, quieter this time. “Every year I came here with West and little Italy… they’d always end up getting all wrapped up in each other.” he admitted. “They kinda forgot I was even there sometimes. I’d just sit around watching them act like the only two people in the world.”

His voice softened, a shadow of something wistful passing over his face before he shrugged it off. "But I don’t blame them,” the ex-nation went on. “Love like that... it’s rare. And when you find something that awesome, something that makes you forget the world for a little while… anyone would want to hold on to it.”

He paused, then gave a small, self-conscious laugh, as if realizing he’d gone off track. He cleared his throat and glanced back at Romano.

“Anyway… what I’m trying to say is, I’m glad you’re here. It’s nice—having someone to just… be with. Makes it feel a little less lonely.” he said, his red eyes softening. "You're good company, South."

Romano stared at him, stunned. The music around them blurred into a distant hum, the buzz of the crowd and the stomping of boots melting away into nothing.

He was... good company?

The Italian blinked, once, then again, a little too quickly. Something pricked at the corners of his eyes, and before he could stop himself, he turned his head away slightly, just enough to hide the way his expression faltered, how his lips trembled at the edges. His gaze dropped to his plate, but he wasn’t really seeing the half-eaten slice of cake anymore.

No one had said something like that to him in… he didn’t know how long. And even when they had, it had always come from family—people who were supposed to say things like that, whether they meant them or not. His family, Spain, Veneziano, Belgium, and even that stingy brother of Belgium, Netherlands, they probably meant what they said when they spoke to him like that. But lately, Romano had begun to convince himself that it wasn't really true. Not really.

Because how could it be? How could anyone enjoy his company when he was so damn difficult all the time? He was moody, irritable, defensive about everything. He pushed people away without meaning to and then hated himself for it. He wasn’t warm, or charming, or easy to be around. So the idea that Prussia actually enjoyed his company made his poor heart stutter.

Prussia, who not only didn’t hate him but also enjoyed his company...

That same warm feeling spread through his chest again, the one he’d experienced more times than he cared to admit in such a short span of time with Prussia. It was as though someone had set his insides on fire, and his heart was desperately trying to break free from his chest. It was strange. No, scratch that—Prussia was strange, incredibly so, but... in a sweet way, a way Romano found himself enjoying. He couldn’t understand how he had ever hated him so much before.

The Southern nation lowered his gaze for a moment, his eyes fixing on the scattered pebbles at his feet. After a few seconds, he looked back up at the other man, his expression softening slightly. A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips, barely noticeable, but still there.

“You’re weird." he said softly, the words odd but his tone gentle and almost... affectionate.

The former nation blinked. “I—uh, what?” he said, looking at the Italian with a deeply confused expression, clearly struggling to make sense of the Italian's response, which didn’t seem to match with what Prussia had just said.

The white-haired man furrowed his brows for a brief moment, but then his confusion shifted to surprise as he caught sight of the faint smile on the other's face. Prussia’s thoughts suddenly froze, and everything else seemed to vanish from his mind as his attention locked entirely on that smile.

Romano was actually smiling, and at him, of all people. In all the years Prussia had known the Southern nation, he had never once seen him smile, at least not in front of him. All he had ever received were scowls, glares, and expressions of barely contained tolerance, but never a smile. Not until now. He couldn’t even recall what he had said to make the Italian smile, his mind practically short-circuiting at the sight, but honestly, he didn’t care. All he wanted was to keep looking at that smile. It suited him—really well. It looked far better on him than the eye-rolls and tense expressions he typically wore. It was a rare sight, and Prussia found himself suddenly wanting to see it more often.

Before the former nation could say another word, Romano finished his cake and stepped closer to him, close enough to make his mouth go dry. Their fingers brushed briefly as the dark-haired brunette handed him the empty plate. The German barely registered the warmth of the touch before the Italian turned away, covering his face with a hand as he began to walk off.

The albino stood frozen, stunned, his mouth slightly ajar. He stared at the empty plate in his hand, then gave a small shake of his head. Shoving the last bites of his own cake into his mouth, he tossed both plates into the nearest bin. Without a second thought, he took off after the other nation.

“Hey! wait up!” Prussia called after Romano, jogging a few steps to catch up. He reached him, but instead of just walking beside him like a normal person, the German spun around and started walking backward, facing Romano as they continued down the street, unwilling to take his eyes off the brunette's face.

The Italian raised an eyebrow at the ridiculous sight. "What are you doing?"

The ex-nation disregarded Romano's question, pointing a finger at him—more specifically, at his face—and grinning. "You're smiling."

At that, the Southern half of Italy looked away and shook his head, hand covering his mouth as he mumbled, "I'm not."

“You are!" the former nation insisted, now grinning like an idiot.

“Get your damn eyes checked," he muttered, his eyes flicking toward Prussia before he added, "and watch your step, dumbass."

I’d rather watch you. That’s what Prussia would’ve wanted to say—hell, he probably would have said it too, if he hadn’t just slammed his back into a metal pole. Seriously, who even put that there? The loud clang echoed as he stumbled, nearly losing his balance.

“Pfft. Idiot." Romano muttered, glancing back at the ex-nation before casually continuing on his way.

A few passersby glanced over at the scene, some giving him curious looks, others shaking their heads before moving on. But Prussia didn’t care. Not even a little. Rubbing his shoulder, he hurried to catch up with the Southern nation once more.

This time, the albino walked normally beside him, careful not to bump into anything else, but the grin on his face had somehow grown even wider. He didn’t quite understand what it was about the Italian’s good mood, but it was contagious, and it lifted his spirits too. Prussia found himself wishing that Romano could always be like this... happy. He didn’t want him to ever be sad, hurt, or go through anything negative again, not like he had earlier this morning.

The former nation's smile faltered as he recalled the memory. Romano had been so... what was the word? Distressed? Sad? Angry? He had been all of those things and more. Watching him like that had been heartbreaking, and just thinking about it now caused his good mood to fade away.

He never wanted to see him like that again. To think that the poor Southern nation had been enduring months of insomnia, slowly being worn down by it—it was devastating. But it also put things in perspective. It explained Romano’s jumpiness and the way he’d pushed Prussia away before, as well as Veneziano’s strange behavior and worry. The albino had assumed something was wrong with both Italians, maybe financial trouble or family issues, but all along, it was only Romano suffering, and Veneziano was just deeply concerned for him.

Prussia couldn’t help but wonder how it all started. What triggered the Southern nation's insomnia? He knew it had been going on for months now, Romano had told him as much, but what had caused it? After all, he remembered that the older half of Italy had never had trouble sleeping before. The guy could sleep anywhere, anytime, until one day... he just couldn't anymore.

The German furrowed his brows, deep in thought. The Southern nation had claimed he didn’t know why he couldn’t sleep, but Prussia didn’t buy that. He had a feeling—no, he was certain—it had something to do with the way Romano seemed to want to be... hated.

The Germanic nation didn’t want to jump to conclusions, but after everything Romano had said and the way he’d acted, it was hard not to. He only had one real moment to base it on—last night, when Romano had practically begged him to hate him. It wasn’t the most logical approach, and Prussia knew that, but for him, it was more than enough.

He couldn’t understand why the older Italian would want that... why anyone would want that. Then again, maybe Romano didn’t actually want it. Maybe he just didn’t know how to want anything better. But why? It didn’t make sense, and Prussia wanted to make sense of it. He wanted to understand Romano. He wanted to pull those dark thoughts out of him, to keep that smile on his face and never let it fade again.

It was strange, thinking how it had all begun with Prussia simply wanting Romano to stop despising him. Truth be told, he’d always liked the older Italian. Romano had a fire in him that was rare, a sharp edge that made him stand out. He was quick to snap back, never hiding his irritation, and Prussia had always thought that was pretty damn cool—someone who didn’t take crap from anyone. But somewhere along the way, it stopped being about proving how awesome Prussia truly was. Now, it was about something more. Now, the former nation just wanted to help him, to ease whatever pain was gnawing at him.

The albino knew what it felt like to hit rock bottom, to carry pain so heavy it threatened to swallow you whole. He’d seen his own world fall apart more than once. There were days he’d wanted to erase himself just to escape the burdens of the past. But if there was one thing he’d learned, it was that no one should have to face that kind of struggle alone. He had, and it had been awful. Things had only started to get better once he began opening up to his brother.

Although he and Romano weren’t exactly close—much to Prussia’s disappointment—and maybe Romano already confided in Italy, Spain, or the other nations he was close to, Prussia still wanted to be there for him. Because, whether he liked to admit it or not, he kinda cared. A lot.

Before he could fall deeper into his thoughts, a sudden tug on his jacket sleeve pulled him back to the present. He blinked, glancing down at the tanned hand gripping the fabric, then looked up to meet the Italian's gaze, noticing the faint, worried look on his face.

"Are you okay...?" Romano asked, tilting his head slightly. "Your face looks really tense," he added, scanning the white-haired man's features. "You didn’t actually hurt yourself, did you?"

At the brunette's words, Prussia cleared his throat and let out a nervous chuckle. "Ah—no, no, I’m good," he said quickly, lifting a hand to rake through his hair in an attempt to ease the other's concern. "I was just thinking, that's all."

Romano’s grip lingered for a moment longer before he finally let go of Prussia’s sleeve, though his expression remained filled with worry. “Thinking about what?”

“About you." the words escaped the albino’s lips before he could stop them, before he even had a chance to think about what he was saying or how they might sound.

In an instant, all the worry disappeared from Romano’s face, replaced by pure surprise, his eyes wide, mouth slightly open. “Me?” he repeated, his voice softer, as if he couldn’t quite process what he’d just heard. Honestly, Prussia couldn’t believe he’d actually said it either. It was the truth, sure, but he hadn’t meant to say it out loud. It made him sound like a creep, like his friend, France. And that was the absolute last impression he wanted Romano to have of him.

Prussia’s mind went blank for a moment before he snapped back to reality, waving a dismissive hand. "I meant I was thinking about what you said, uh, earlier," he said, then added awkwardly, "Well, not earlier—more like a couple of hours ago, but you get what I mean. Hah."

Romano’s surprise seemed to ease a little, but his eyes remained locked onto Prussia’s, still expectant. “Oh.”
A pause.

“And that is... what, exactly?”

The Prussian turned his gaze away for a second, desperately searching for something to say—something that wouldn’t give him away. Then it came to him.

“If you’re going to stay,” he said abruptly.

The words hung in the air, heavier than he’d expected. But now that he’d said them, he realized he was glad he had. The thought had been gnawing at him for hours. Was Romano really going to return to Italy? After everything, it would be understandable if he did. And truthfully, the German couldn’t fault him for it. But deep down… the former nation didn’t want him to leave.

He shoved the thought away and picked his words back up, hesitating. "You said you wanted to leave... because of everything…” he trailed off, the weight of what he wanted to say clogging his throat. “I just—I want to know if you really are going to leave..."

Romano fell quiet, a thoughtful look settling over him. After a moment’s hesitation, he gave a small shrug. "I’m not so sure anymore," he said softly. "Back then, I said it because I didn’t think things would end well… I just wanted to avoid making everything worse. But somehow, things got better, and now there’s nothing bad left for me to avoid." he paused, eyes dropping to the floor before lifting them back to Prussia. "Why? Do you want me to leave?"

"No!" the Germanic nation responded a little too hastily, making the other man flinch in surprise. Prussia winced internally, silently scolding himself for letting his mouth run ahead of his thoughts. He took a breath, softening his tone. “What I meant is… I don’t want you to go,” he said more firmly. “I want you to stay.”

"You do?" Romano blinked, stunned.

"Yeah... like I said before, you're good company, Roma."

Romano's face flushed ever so slightly, and he glanced down at the ground again, refusing to meet his gaze. He muttered something in Italian under his breath, too fast and quiet for Prussia to catch, but the former nation took it as a good sign. The Italian hadn’t said no. That was something. He was about to press a little more, maybe joke to lighten the tension, when—

"Hey, you two! You look like you know how to use a gun!”

The voice interrupted the two. Both of them turned to see a stocky man with a bright vest and a stack of fliers grinning at them like they were long-lost friends.

Romano recoiled slightly, startled by the sudden approach and utterly confused by the Bavarian accent and fast German. Prussia, on the other hand, froze—not because of the man, but because of his words.

How the hell did this guy know they could use guns?

For a split second, panic gripped him. Did the man somehow know they were nations? That would be... complicated. Dangerous, even. But then he caught sight of the flier the man was holding: bright lettering, cartoonish images, and the distinct flair of a carnival advertisement.

“Phew,” Prussia muttered under his breath as the tension bled out of him. Just a game promoter. Nothing more.

"How about you try your luck at Bottle Smash, eh?” the man grinned, shoving a flier into Prussia’s face. “Knock down six bottles and you win a prize!”

The ex-nation blinked at the sudden invasion of his personal space, then slowly reached out and took the flier, taking a small step back. He glanced at it, then at Romano, who had moved a little closer, peeking at the flier over his shoulder. And for a brief, stupid second, Prussia forgot what he was supposed to be looking at. His eyes shifted from the paper to Romano’s face, just inches away. The curve of his brow, the way his mouth was set in a faint frown of confusion...

Focus, idiot.

Romano pointed at the flier. "What's this?" he asked, the confusion in his tone obvious.

"It's a flier for some kind of shooting game," Prussia explained. Then, nodding toward the man who was still hovering nearby, he added, "He wants us to try it."

At his words, the Italian glanced back at the man, who flashed a smile that made him cringe slightly before he turned his attention back to the flier and gave a small shake of his head. "Uh, no thanks," he replied simply. "I've had enough of playing rigged games for one day."

Prussia gave a small nod of agreement and was about to hand the flier back, but paused. The more he thought about it, the more it seemed like the game might actually be in their favor. After all, both he and Romano were pretty skilled with guns, thanks to, well… war. They might actually have a decent shot at winning whatever prize was up for grabs. Not that he cared much about the prize itself, he just liked to win (and show off).

So instead of saying no, he turned to Romano and gave a small shrug. “Could be fun,” he said, prompting a confused look from the Italian. “I mean, it’s just shooting, and we’re kinda great at that, so…”

Romano looked at Prussia, eyes narrowed in thought. For a second, it seemed like he was going to reject the idea again, but then he sighed. “Yeah, you're right... But do you really wanna waste more money on this?” he jabbed a finger lightly against the former nation's chest. “Won’t Germany bite your head off for it? He’s been nagging you to spend more wisely, and this isn't exactly spending your money wisely."

Prussia scoffed and waved a dismissive hand. “Pshhh, West should loosen up more! It’s not like I’m gambling with his precious fortune. Besides,” he added, flashing a proud smirk, “He can’t bite my head off. I’m the older brother.”

Romano rolled his eyes, but the corners of his mouth tugged upward, just slightly.

Prussia elbowed him lightly. “And so are you, remember? So you, too, can do whatever you please.”

“That ain’t a problem for me,” the dark-haired brunette said. “Veneziano’s the last person who’s gonna comment on my spending."

Prussia chuckled, fully aware it was true, because unlike him and his brother, Romano and Veneziano were alike in that regard.

"So, what do you think?” the red-eyed man asked, forming finger guns with one hand and mimicking a shooting motion. "Wanna shoot some bottles?"

South Italy gave the flier in Prussia’s hand another glance before nodding. "Alright, let’s go shoot some bottles.'"

"That's the spirit!" Prussia exclaimed.

The ex-nation told the man they were in, and the stranger’s face lit up with eager delight. With a sweeping gesture, he waved them over to a brightly colored booth, its strings of lights casting a soft glow over the peeling paint and faded flags that swayed gently in the evening breeze. They paid without a word, and the man, grinning from ear to ear, handed them each a scuffed, plastic gun. Then, with a dramatic flair, he pointed toward a narrow wooden shelf tucked at the back of the stand, where six dusty bottles stood in a neat row, waiting to be shot down.

The man began explaining the rules in rapid German, using exaggerated hand gestures. Prussia nodded along, then leaned toward Romano. “Alright, so we each get three shots. Bottles are further than they look, so aim high. If we both knock down our three, we win."

The Southern nation gave a small nod, inspecting his gun as he turned it in his hands. “Bene. (Okay.)”

The white-haired man grinned, spinning his gun with giddy excitement. It was well known that he loved this kind of thing—shooting, fencing, archery—anything that reminded him of battle. He loved the rush, the thrill of the fight. He'd had a lot of fun during his glory days and the days of war... but truth be told, he was glad the world had found a way to avoid falling apart over every small disagreement. War was thrilling, but it also had too many graves. He’d seen too many kids forced to be soldiers, too many people who never got to live their lives fully. So, yeah, war was great, but peace was even better, and he wouldn’t trade it for all the glory in the world.

Romano glanced at Prussia, then stepped in closer, lifting his prop gun and mock-aiming it at the former nation. “Hands in the air. Italy’s taking over the German Empire,” he said in a small voice, though it was clear he was joking. It was a rare moment of humor for Romano, and it distracted the German long enough that he dropped his gun onto the ground with a small clatter. He quickly recovered, raising his hands in the air and playing along.

"I thought Italy wasn’t interested in these modest lands of ours." Prussia said with a smile, tilting his head to one side.

Romano simply shook his head. "Change of plans. We want more land," he said, pretending to reload his gun. "And resources," he added, before miming a shot with a small "Bang, bang."

Prussia found it both funny and endearing. He pretended to lean over and clutch his stomach with an exaggerated gasp, grinning the whole time. “Man down!" he exclaimed in a strained voice. "The enemy’s got me cornered and wounded!" The absurdity of it made Romano suppress a laugh. Prussia then raised a fist in the air and shouted, "Tell West I died with honor for our country!"

Before they could escalate their mock drama, the booth owner cleared his throat loudly, reminding them they were still in public. Both Romano and Prussia turned toward him, straightening up with matching sheepish expressions as if they'd just been caught passing notes in class.

The stand owner shook his head in amusement before motioning toward the row of bottles. Prussia picked up his gun from the ground, dusted it off, and nudged Romano slightly. "Conquering Germany will have to wait. First, you’ve gotta conquer these." he said, gesturing to the shelf of bottles.

South Italy huffed, still a bit flustered by everything, but pointed his gun at the display, making sure his aim was perfect before firing. One shot and a bottle flew off the shelf in a single, satisfying smash.

"Wow, still got it in you, South." Prussia said with a whistle.

"Of course I do," the Southern half of Italy replied, looking rather pleased with himself. "Physical strength may not be my forte, but guns are."

"No kidding," the former nation chuckled, stepping forward and adjusting his grip on the worn-out prop gun. With a playful tone, he added, "Now I’m nervous," causing Romano to raise an eyebrow. Grinning, he continued, "Didn’t realize I was standing next to the gun master. Guess I’d better not screw this up."

Hearing his words, the Southern nation looked away, fighting back yet another smile, his tenth of the day.

Prussia took his shot, and then it was Romano’s turn again. As he focused on his target, he let out a small exhale and spoke. “You know…” he began, pausing briefly before continuing, “you’re not as bad as I thought at first…” he admitted softly, causing the German to glance at him with a slightly surprised look.

"You thought I was... bad?" the former nation asked, his expression shifting into one of confusion.

"Well, yeah, but not in the literal sense," the Italian clarified, his tone quieter now. "More like… I thought we were too different to ever really get along." His fingers curled a little tighter around the gun in his hands, knuckles faintly whitening as he kept his gaze on the row of bottles in front of them. "That’s why I always came off so… harsh with you."

"Ah..." Prussia murmured, unsure of how to respond. Fortunately, he didn’t have to, because Romano continued.

"But..." the hazel-eyed man said, drawing out the word as if he were struggling to find the right way to phrase what he wanted to say next. "I realize I was wrong," he finally admitted. "Even though we’re really different, we actually get along pretty well. And, well… you’re not terrible. You’re nice. And kind of fun, too." he shifted uncomfortably, his fingers starting to fidget with the gun's trigger. "And, um, I actually... like hanging out with you." he confessed, speaking the last part a little faster.

With that, Romano quickly aimed and knocked another bottle off the shelf, then straightened up and nodded toward Prussia. "Uh, it's your turn." he mumbled, eyes fixed on the ground.

The former nation stared at Romano for a full minute, as though the Southern nation had just handed him half of his heart. In a way, it really did feel like that—Romano had never said anything like that to him before. The words left him feeling both mushy and unexpectedly happy. It took a moment for him to shake off the daze that had overtaken him and finally respond like a normal person, instead of standing there gawking like some kind of weirdo.

"That's, uh—wow," he said, inwardly cringing at how awkward he sounded. He cleared his throat and pulled himself together, flashing his usual wide grin. "I'm glad to hear that!" he said brightly, then added in a softer tone. "I like hanging out with you too. You're pretty awesome!"

He wanted to say more, but the words were all jumbled in his head, refusing to come out the way he wanted. So instead, he focused on his toy gun, fiddling with it just to give his hands something to do, anything to distract himself. But even that didn’t help much. His thoughts were a mess, all swirling around Romano. And normally, when he used a gun, his head wasn’t full of the Southern nation's.

Fortunately, in the end, the German managed to take his shot, just barely missing the bottle. Then it was Romano’s turn again, and, as expected, he effortlessly shattered another one. When Prussia stepped up for his final shot, though, he was far too distracted to focus and ended up missing, which meant they lost. Not that he minded. Romano didn’t care either, he was far too pleased with having gotten the upper hand on Prussia to worry about the loss.

The stand owner asked if they wanted to go another round, but the former nation declined. So he and Romano wandered off together, continuing their walk through the fair. This time, the air between them felt lighter, more relaxed than it had been earlier, back when they’d been awkwardly left alone after Veneziano and Germany had wandered off.

Romano found himself feeling content in a way he hadn’t in a long time. He had smiled and laughed more in one evening than he had in months. For once, he hadn’t had the time to overthink everything—he’d been too busy genuinely enjoying himself with Prussia. It was freeing. Different.

It felt like they were friends—really friends. Maybe they had been for a while now, but Romano had always refused to acknowledge it, preferring to label the albino as an acquaintance, or even an enemy at times. Back then, he hadn’t let himself notice just how kind Prussia could be. But now? Now he saw it clearly. And he truly felt like he could call him a friend.

That thought made him smile. Romano didn’t have many friends, certainly fewer than his brother. He knew he was hard to get along with. But somehow, with Prussia, things felt easy... It was nice.

Lost in thought, the hazel-eyed man hadn’t realized he’d stopped walking or that he’d been blankly staring ahead for the past few minutes, at least not until Prussia gently tapped his shoulder, snapping him out of it.

"You wanna go on that?" the white-haired man asked, pointing ahead. The question made the Italian turn his head in confusion, only then realizing he'd been staring at the fair’s Ferris wheel.

"Ah, no, I—” Romano stammered, waving his hands dismissively. “I was just looking at the, uh, sky, and that just happened to be in the way,” he tried to explain. It wasn’t exactly the truth, but it was the best he could come up with on the spot.

The German glanced between him and the colorful Ferris wheel before offering a smile and starting to lead them toward it, leaving Romano looking at him in confusion.

"You can see the sky better from up there since you'll be high in the air,” Prussia said cheerfully. The dark-haired brunette blinked at him, slowly realizing that the German must’ve assumed he wanted to ride the Ferris wheel but was too shy to admit it—so he was taking the initiative for his sake. It was incredibly thoughtful, and even though Romano hadn’t actually wanted to go on the ride, the albino was just being so genuinely nice that the Italian couldn’t bring himself to say no. So, he went along with it.

After all, he’d probably end up enjoying it anyway, especially with Prussia by his side.

Letting himself be led toward the spinning attraction, he watched as Prussia handed over his last bit of cash for their tickets and then guided them into one of the pods. They sat across from each other, facing one another, and the small, enclosed space reminded Romano of the old days, of the carriage rides his people, and even he himself, used to take centuries ago. The feeling was oddly nostalgic.

"Man, I haven’t been on one of these in forever,” the German remarked, tapping the window for emphasis. “Do you guys have a lot of these back in Italy?”

"Um, not really..." the hazel-eyed man replied with a slight shrug. "Just an average amount, I guess

Prussia hummed softly, turning his gaze out the window as the pod began its slow ascent, gently spinning as it rose. Romano glanced outside too, though the view was a little obscured by the scratched-up glass. Still, he let his eyes linger on the fairgrounds below before gradually shifting his focus back to the former nation across from him.

Prussia was smiling—no surprise there, since he was almost always wearing that grin—but this time it looked softer, more relaxed. His hair was a bit of a mess, tousled by the breeze, though that wasn’t anything new either.

Romano found himself quietly studying him, tracing the shape of his features until his gaze settled on those striking red eyes. Eyes that reminded him of mulled wine and ripe pomegranates at the end of spring. He couldn’t think of anyone else with eyes quite like that. There was something almost artistic about them, something that stirred a deep yearning inside him, one he couldn’t quite put into words. It made him want to paint, to take a blank canvas and fill it with white roses splashed in crimson. Maybe, when he got back to Italy, he actually would.

Suddenly, the former nation turned his head and locked eyes with the Italian, his red, piercing gaze making Romano instinctively look away, his pulse quickening.

"We’re almost at the top,” the former nation said, gesturing upwards, his grin widening. “From up there, we'll have a better view of the stars.”

South Italy nodded quietly, trying to calm his racing heart as his gaze drifted toward the window. The Ferris wheel screeched as it reached its highest point, then stopped—just like it always did—giving each pod a few peaceful minutes to take in the view. It was a thoughtful little feature, meant to let riders savor the moment. And it would’ve been great, really... if it weren’t so unbelievably cold.

The pod was made of metal, with no heating or cushions, only cold, hard seats that offered no comfort. Outside, the weather had turned even colder under the pitch-black sky, and it felt as if Romano were trapped inside a freezer. Now that he had stopped moving, he could feel the cold creeping into his bones, freezing him from the inside out, making his teeth chatter and a shiver race down his spine.

Unable to take it anymore, the Italian wrapped his arms around himself, attempting to warm himself up. He regretted only bringing a coat; he should’ve packed a thick jacket made of wool or fur, something sturdy enough for this harsh weather. He hadn’t expected much from Germany, given that it was still autumn and winter was still a few weeks away, but he really should’ve known better.

He must have started trembling more than he realized from the cold, as Prussia's expression shifted to one of concern.

"Are you cold?" the German asked, his eyes scanning the other man, who seemed on the verge of jumping out of his seat.

"Uh, j-just a bit," Romano replied quickly, trying to downplay the fact that he was freezing and felt like his blood was turning to ice. "But don’t worry. I’m fine."

At the Southern nation's words, Prussia frowned slightly. The white-haired man glanced around the pod for a moment before an idea seemed to strike him. Without saying a word, he stood up, careful not to bump his head on the low ceiling, and sat down next to Romano. The Italian gave him a confused look, unsure of what he was doing.

The German simply unzipped his jacket and scooted closer to Romano, who felt his heart skip a beat at the sudden closeness. Then, as if that wasn’t enough, the albino grabbed the front of his jacket, which was next to Romano, opened it, and wrapped it around him, pulling him in slightly.

Romano's mind went into overdrive. His thoughts spiraled, and suddenly, he didn’t feel cold anymore, not at all. He felt warm, way too warm, and his heart hammered in his chest as if it were about to burst out. He opened his mouth, but no words came out. He was too shocked. He couldn’t understand why, but the sheer closeness was sending him into a spiral.

It took him a full minute before he could finally get some words out. "What—what are you doing?!" he sputtered, his voice high with surprise.

The former nation loosened his grip slightly. "I... well, you're cold, and I thought this might help since I’m not that cold, and uh..." his voice faltered, now sounding a little self-conscious. "I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable or anything… eh." he started to pull away, but before he could, Romano quickly grabbed his arm.

"No! It’s fine!" South Italy blurted, a little too fast and a little too loud. He cringed at his own reaction, then softened his voice. "I’m fine," he added more quietly, making Prussia pause. "Don’t move... I’m gonna be cold again..."

The albino stayed still for a moment before settling back into his original position. The Italian let out a small sigh of relief.

They sat there in silence, the muffled chatter from outside filling the air. Romano found himself leaning more into Prussia, soaking in the warmth radiating from him like the heat of a fire.

Prussia... he did things for Romano, things he didn’t have to do, but still did. It was incredibly thoughtful. The hazel-eyed man couldn’t find the right word to describe how he felt about the German, but he knew it was nothing but positive.

Taking a deep breath, the Italian exhaled, watching his breath freeze into mist. Before he could stop himself, the words that had been stuck in his head for so long slipped from his lips.

"Thank you..."

He said them so quietly and lowly that they were almost not audible, almost.

"Huh? Oh—no problem," Prussia replied, shrugging like it was nothing. "Didn’t want you to freeze to death or anything, haha."

"No, I mean..." Romano hesitated, but pushed through. "Yes, thanks for this. But I meant for... yesterday. And everything else. Thank you for being so nice to me." he turned slightly to look at Prussia, who blinked at him in surprise. "You’re really kind."

"Ah..." the ex-nation muttered, looking like he wasn't quite sure what to say. He swallowed and glanced away, a flicker of nervousness crossing his face. "Well, uh, anyone would've done the same, hah... I'm not really that kind..." he said, trying to brush off the compliment.

"You are." Romano insisted, quietly but firmly.

Prussia stayed silent for a moment, and for a brief second, the Italian worried he might’ve said something wrong. (For the record, he hadn't. The German was just thrown off. Kindness wasn’t a label he’d ever thought to wear, and certainly not one others had pinned on him. Loud, arrogant, maybe, but kind? That was new.) With a small shake of his head, Prussia finally spoke, a crooked smile tugging at his lips. "Didn’t think you were one for flattery, older Italy."

"It’s not flattery if it’s true…” Romano murmured, his voice small, almost as if he was speaking more to himself than to Prussia. He turned his gaze toward the window, where the first stars were beginning to pierce the dark sky, scattering silver light across the void. He stared at them for a while, until something familiar caught his eye.

"Hey," he said, softly tapping the window to get the other's attention, not that he didn’t already have it. Lifting his hand a little higher, the Southern nation pointed toward the sky, eyes fixed on a particular cluster of stars. "Isn’t that the constellation you told me about? What was its name... something with a C. Cas... uh—"

"Cassiopeia." Prussia supplied, his gaze following Romano’s finger.

"Yeah, that one!" South Italy nodded, his face lighting up. "Cassiopeia. The one shaped like a ‘W,’ right? Unless I’m wrong..."

"No, you aren't wrong," Prussia reassured him. "You're very right." he paused for a moment, then added. "I'm just surprised you remember... most people don’t think the stuff I talk about is worth holding onto. It’s all old history, not exactly the most exciting topic.”

"What you said to me on that mountain... I thought it was really nice... I didn’t think it was something to forget, especially since it was about the stars." Romano said, turning to glance at the other man. "Back in ancient Rome, the stars held a lot of meaning for my people, particularly in astronomy," he added, briefly reflecting on his country’s past. "I never got too deep into it myself, but I’ve always liked the stars. They’re pretty." With that, he turned his gaze back to the endless sky.

Prussia was silent for a moment before nodding in agreement. “Yeah, can’t really argue with that,” he said casually. Romano responded with a quiet hum, unaware that the former nation's gaze lingered on him a moment longer than necessary before finally shifting to the sky as well.

They sat in comfortable silence, huddled together beneath the gentle hum of the pod’s machinery, their eyes fixed on the stars above. Time passed unnoticed, until the quiet click of machinery and the sudden lurch of movement signaled that the ride was coming to an end. As the wheel slowly descended and the platform came into view, they began to shift, preparing to separate. But when the doors finally slid open and the cold air swept in, they hesitated, neither one quite ready to let go. Still, after a lingering pause, they quietly pulled away from each other and stepped out of the pod.

Back on the ground, they walked side by side, the silence between them now filled with soft, easy chatter. The fairgrounds had become even more crowded, but Romano found that it didn’t bother him as much as it had earlier.

“It’s past nine,” the Italian muttered after a while, checking his phone. “We should probably find our brothers.”

Prussia nodded, his gaze already shifting around. "Yeah."

They navigated through the bustling fairgrounds, weaving past the flickering lights of booths and the sea of people, their eyes scanning for the familiar faces of their siblings. Eventually, they spotted them near a brightly lit churro stand. Veneziano stood with a joyful grin, a fresh batch of churros in his hands, while Germany stood beside him, arms crossed but looking content.

Prussia waved to catch their attention, and the younger pair immediately noticed them. Without hesitation, they made their way over to them.

"Guys! We've been looking everywhere for you!" Veneziano called out, his usual cheerful tone slightly muffled by the churro he was still chewing.

Romano arched a brow. "So that’s why you were at the churro stand?" he asked dryly, prompting a sheepish grin from his younger brother.

"It just happened to be in our way! Pure coincidence!" Veneziano insisted, though the guilty look on his face made it obvious that wasn’t entirely true.

Romano scoffed, clearly unconvinced. "Yeah, right." he muttered, rolling his eyes as he snatched a churro from his brother and took a bite.

"Hey!" the light-haired brunette exclaimed, pulling the packet of churros away from his sibling. However, in doing so, he inadvertently moved them closer to Prussia, who quickly grabbed one as well.

"Damn, little Italy,” the former nation said between bites. “These things are amazing.”

At that, the Northern nation gasped and clutched his churros protectively to his chest, determined to keep the others from stealing his food. "Stop taking my churros!" he exclaimed. "They're mine!"

Prussia only laughed, and Romano reached for another, prompting Veneziano to dart behind Germany for cover. "Germany, help!” he cried, using the taller man as a human shield.

At his words, the blonde glanced between him and Romano before letting out an awkward sigh. "Please don’t drag me into this..." he murmured.

The four of them chatted a little longer before Veneziano turned to Romano and Prussia with a curious look. “By the way, did you two stick together the whole time, or did you just meet up now?” he asked, glancing between them.

The older Italian blinked. “We stayed together." he answered simply, causing Veneziano to raise his brows in surprise.

"Really?” North Italy asked, sounding genuinely taken aback.

Before Romano could reply, Prussia jumped in. “Hell yeah!” he said enthusiastically. “It was awesome!” he threw a grin toward the Southern nation and added, “This guy’s actually fun when he’s not frowning all the time!”

Romano gave him a light punch to the arm, trying to act irritated, though the amusement on his face gave him away. “Shut up. He was talking to me,” he said, making a half-hearted shooing motion. “Go bother your own brother.”

Prussia just tilted his head and smirked. “Can I bother you instead?”

Romano spluttered and gave him a push in Germany’s direction, making the former nation burst into laughter as he stumbled away. Romano returned to stand beside Veneziano with a small huff, though there wasn’t a trace of irritation in his expression, if anything, he looked quietly content.

Veneziano gave him a puzzled glance, then looked over at Prussia. Something seemed to click, and a smile slowly spread across his face. "So you two had fun, huh?” he said, eyes glinting knowingly.

"You could say that..." Romano replied, the faintest trace of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

The four of them stayed a little longer, chatting as the night wore on. But as the wind picked up and the air grew colder, they decided it was finally time to head home. As they walked away from the fading lights and distant sounds of the fair, Romano kept his hands in his pockets, his coat wrapped tightly around him. It was only then that he realized he had forgotten all about his insomnia for the day.

Chapter Text

Things were starting to turn around for Romano. Everything wasn’t awful or terrifying or annoying anymore like it had been when he first got to Germany. Now, things were actually kind of… nice. His brother wasn’t constantly freaking out and coming up with ridiculous plans to help him—well, Veneziano was still a little worried, but that was normal. What mattered was that he wasn’t fussing over Romano anymore or making the Southern nation feel guilty for his worry in the process. Even Germany, who the older Italian had barely been able to tolerate at the start of this vacation, was now someone he could be in the same room with without wanting to scream. Okay, Romano still didn’t like Germany, not really, but he wasn’t totally unbearable anymore.

And then there was Prussia.

Romano and the former nation had grown closer. They were friends now. Actual friends. That realization alone filled the Italian with a kind of happiness he didn’t quite know what to do with. He’d spent so long disliking him for no good reason, and now? He liked him. A lot. So yes, all in all, things were going great.

But even with all that, something still wasn’t quite right... something was off, deep down, underneath all the good stuff.

It was his insomnia.

Yeah, he’d sort of forgotten about it for a while. Spending time with Prussia, chatting with his brother—it had all been a good distraction. And sure, he’d managed to sleep. A lot, even. But not on his own. Only with Prussia’s help. And that might not have seemed like a big deal at first… but it actually was. Because the real reason he couldn’t sleep hadn’t been fixed. He hadn’t said what was really bothering him, hadn’t gotten anything off his chest. He’d just… pushed it all aside. Like sweeping dirt under a rug. It looked clean, but the mess was still there, just hidden. And sooner or later, it’d all come out and make a giant disaster.

That was Romano.

He might’ve slept, but nothing had really changed. So when everyone decided to turn in for the night, him included, the man found himself unable to fall asleep again. Oof... He'd gone to bed feeling confident, expecting a good night’s rest. He even took some of that magnesium Germany had given him to help settle his nerves. And at first, it seemed like it might work. But the moment he closed his eyes and let himself relax, a few minutes passed… and then the overthinking started all over again.

The real question was: what could he possibly be overthinking, when everything seemed to be going fine?

The answer was simple: Everything. Everything that mattered and even the things that didn’t.

Romano thought about how irresponsible it was to be away from his country during a non-vacation period. About all the work piling up back home. About how furious his boss would be. And how it wasn’t just him... his brother was in the same boat, and Romano felt responsible for dragging him into this mess. Then there was Germany, who’d paused his duties to accommodate them. He’d have to play catch-up too. It was all Romano’s fault.

The self-accusation didn’t stop there. The Southern half of Italy replayed every awkward moment from the past few days in his mind. Things he’d said. Things he wished he’d said differently. Mistakes he could’ve avoided. Every memory made him cringe until he wanted to claw out of his own skin.

And there were more thoughts, so many more, racing, piling up, one after the other, until hours had passed and Romano still hadn’t fallen asleep.

It distressed him a lot. He didn’t want to go through another sleepless night, not again. So, not knowing what else to do, he went to Prussia. Well, not exactly to him, more like hovering in front of his door, feeling inexplicably awkward.

Hah.

The dark-haired brunette swallowed hard, feeling his nerves getting worse by the second. His palms were clammy, his jaw was tight, and he wasn’t even sure he was breathing anymore from how panicked he was. The worst part was that it didn’t even make sense. There was no logical reason for Romano to be this anxious. He was certain Prussia wouldn’t be upset if he asked for help, in fact, he’d probably be glad he did.

Earlier, before going to bed, the former nation had even asked if he was okay, if he’d be able to sleep, if he wanted company. But, Romano had brushed it all off like a complete idiot.

So no, Prussia had no reason to be mad.

But logic wasn’t helping right now. Not even a little. Because Romano's brain wouldn’t shut up. It kept spinning, throwing one terrible scenario after another at him, all of them ending badly.

It was pretty late, already 11:40 PM, dangerously close to midnight. What if Prussia had already gone to bed, and Romano ended up waking him up and bothering him? What if he got annoyed… or worse, angry? The thought made the Italian's blood run cold. He really, really didn’t want the German to be angry with him.

God, what a terrifying thought!

Romano shook his head, trying to push the thought away before it could make him even more panicked than he already was. He clenched his fists, then released them, dragging his hands through his hair in frustration before finally turning his gaze to the wooden door that led to the Germanic nation's room.

"Bene Romano, (Alright Romano)" the Italian whispered to himself, trying to muster some confidence. "Puoi farcela! (You can do this!)" he said with determination, placing a hand over his chest and drawing in a deep breath. He raised his hand toward the door, ready to knock, but just as his knuckles hovered above the wood, his courage vanished. His hand fell limply to his side, and he froze.

"Augh!" the man suddenly burst out, pacing nervously in front of the former nation’s door, his frustration growing as he fought the urge to tear his hair out. "What's wrong with me?!" Romano demanded.

There was no reason for all this drama. He just needed to pull himself together, act like a man, and knock on the damn door already.

Taking another deep breath, Romano stepped back before walking confidently toward the ex-nation’s room. But as he got closer, he suddenly turned around and hurried off, picking up his pace until he was nearly in a completely different room, all while biting his tongue and feeling himself almost crumble from how nervous he felt.

"Nooo!" the Southern nation hissed under his breath, cradling his head in his hands, feeling utterly defeated and on the verge of tears. His body was reacting on its own, trying to pull him away from the "danger" he was putting himself in (by danger, he meant embarrassment), but it only made him feel worse.

Even though he wanted to run back to his room to avoid the awkwardness, he couldn’t—not when he desperately needed sleep. Romano would be damned if he didn't get some rest tonight. So, he had to get over himself and just do it, because he was Italy Romano, and he’d survived worse than simply asking for help and loosing a little dignity.

Giving himself a quick slap, the Italian gathered his courage once more and returned to Prussia’s door, his face set in a determined frown. He lifted his hand again, ready to knock, but before he could, the door swung open on its own. In the blink of an eye, Romano found himself face-to-face with Prussia, who nearly collided with him as he tried to step out of his room.

In that moment, the Southern nation felt as if he might collapse right then and there, his heart skipping three and a half beats. His eyes widened, and he remained frozen, hand still raised in that awkward position, until Prussia blinked at him with a mildly confused expression.

"Romano? What are you doing here?" the German asked, glancing at the Italian.

Any normal person in that situation would have probably said something like, "Sorry, I couldn't sleep and just wanted to talk to clear my mind," or "Hey, I hope I didn’t wake you up, but I can’t seem to sleep and was wondering if I could stay with you for a bit," or even "I can't sleep, Is your offer to keep me company still on the table?" But Romano wasn’t a normal person—he was Romano. So instead of saying any of that, he said... nothing at all, simply staring at Prussia while inwardly scrambling to remember how to form a coherent sentence.

"Uh, Romano?" the former nation repeated, his expression shifting to one of concern, which finally snapped the dark-haired brunette out of his mess of thoughts.

"Ah, um, I was just..." the Italian stammered, feeling as if his tongue was tied and the words he needed to say were stuck in his throat, unable to come out as he wanted. "I just..." he tried to swallow his nerves, but his mouth was so dry he nearly choked on the air itself, barely managing to stifle a cough. Gritting his teeth, Romano gave up on saying what he'd actually come for. Instead, he blurted out the next best thing, anything to stop himself from stumbling over every syllable like a complete idiot.

"You're awake!" Romano exclaimed, gesturing toward Prussia. It was meant to be a question, but it came out as more of an exclamation, making him cringe and mentally slap himself for it.

"Ah, yeah..." the albino responded, though he still looked throughly confused. "I was playing some video games and kinda lost track of time."

"Aha. I see," the Southern nation murmured, shifting uncomfortably on his feet before adding in a softer tone, "I thought you were asleep."

There was a brief silence between them, a moment in which Prussia appeared to finally process the situation. It took a second, but the confusion faded from his face as he seemed to grasp the reason Romano was there.

"Can you not sleep?"

At his words, the Italian stiffened and quickly shook his head. "No!" he exclaimed, but as soon as the word left his lips, he seemed to regret it. "Maybe..." he muttered, fidgeting slightly before deflating like a balloon, his shoulders sinking. "Yes..." he finally admitted with a sigh, turning his head away. "I can't sleep..." he said quietly, almost as if the words were hard to get out. Then, in an even softer tone, he added, "I know it's late, and you probably want to sleep yourself, but... can I..." his voice trailed off, and he bit his lip, as though unsure how to continue. "Do you mind if... Could I stay with you?" the brunette slowly lifted his head, looking at Prussia with pleading eyes before dropping his gaze again. "I mean, if your offer is still open..."

As the Southern nation fixed his gaze on the floor, anxiously awaiting a response, he didn't notice the sympathetic look that crossed the German's face, nor the small smile that followed.

"Of course, my offer’s always open to you, South." the ex-nation said, causing Romano’s nerves to ease. A weight seemed to lift from his shoulders, and he let out a quiet sigh of relief.

Prussia moved aside from the doorway, gesturing for the Italian to enter with a small theatrical bow. "Here, come in." he said, straightening up afterward.

Romano blinked in surprise. "In your room?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. He hadn’t expected Prussia to suggest that, he thought they’d hang out in the living room like last time, which was what the Italian would’ve suggested himself. But it seemed Prussia had other plans.

Going into his room felt... a bit too intimate.

Wait, what?

Romano frowned slightly at the thought. What was he even thinking? There was nothing intimate about a friend going into another friend’s room. Nothing at all. He'd been to Spain's room plenty of times, and that had never been an issue. So there shouldn't be any problem with going into Prussia's room. Yup, it was no big deal. Romano really needed to stop overthinking things.

"Yeah, don't worry it's in top notch condition." the German said, snapping Romano out of his thoughts with a reassuring smile before gesturing for him to come in again.

"Ah..." the Southern nation muttered, feeling a bit anxious. He shook his head, trying to push away the unease. "Okay." he finally said. And with that, he stepped into the other's room.

Romano wasn’t sure what he had been expecting, but it definitely wasn’t this. Considering Prussia’s energetic personality and wild attitude, he had assumed the room would be a bit more disorganized, nothing too extreme, since Prussia, like Germany, had a tendency to be a neat freak, but at least a little clutter here and there. Maybe even a strange theme to give it character. Instead, the room was, just as Prussia had promised, in top-notch condition, though "top-notch" seemed like an understatement. It was spotless, almost sparkling, like one of those rooms in cartoon shows that had just been scrubbed to perfection.

The room was fairly average in size, maybe a little larger than Romano’s guest room. A bed was positioned near one wall, with a desk across from it, topped by a large computer and a matching gaming chair. There was also a small couch, a closet, a dresser, and a white rug in the center of the floor. But what really caught Romano off guard was the massive bookcase with a glass display window. It was packed with books, DVDs, video game cases, and a collection of trinkets that looked as old as time itself. Some items seemed to be from the '90s, while others looked as though they were plucked straight out of the 1700s. On the top shelf, there were even some swords from different time periods. It was like the older Italian had stumbled into a time capsule.

"Welcome to my humble abode!" the former nation declared, sweeping his arm around the room with pride. "This is the best part of the house!" he added, giving the dark-haired brunette a light nudge. "What do you think?

Romano glanced at Prussia, then around the room again. "It's very..." he paused to gather his thoughts. "Neat." he finally said, uncertain how else to describe it.

"Just neat?" the German asked with a laugh. "Don't you mean ultra awesome?"

The Southern nation stayed silent for a moment before shrugging. "Uh, I guess it's... cool?" he said, his words sounding more like a question than a statement.

Upon hearing that, Prussia grinned. "Good enough for me," he said, then motioned for Romano to move further into the room. "Anyway, make yourself comfortable! I need to grab something, but I'll be right back!" With that, he turned and quickly disappeared from sight, leaving the Italian standing alone.

"Ok..." the dark-haired brunette muttered, more to himself than to anyone else. He stood stiffly in the middle of the room, his gaze drifting around before finally resting on the white rug beneath his feet.

He felt incredibly awkward.

Honestly, Romano deserved an award for how quickly he could feel so awkward in such a short amount of time.

Crossing his arms, he started to pace slowly around the room, hoping that moving might help shake off some of the awkwardness. Just standing there like an idiot wasn’t doing him any good.

The man walked over to a few pieces of furniture, inspecting them closely and noting that not even a speck of dust could be found on them. Eventually, he found himself at Prussia’s gaming desk, where the computer screen was still lit up, displaying a video game he didn’t recognize. It looked like some kind of fighting game, given that the character on screen was wielding a spiked bat.

Romano glanced toward the door to make sure Prussia was still gone before pressing a few keys, curiosity getting the better of him. He wanted to see what was so entertaining about whatever game the ex-nation had been playing. But things quickly went south. As he fumbled with the controls, some monstrous creature on screen attacked the character, and before Romano could react, the character was down. The screen went black, displaying a big “You lost!” message.

Romano immediately panicked, hastily shutting off the computer before backing away from the desk, muttering curses under his breath. In his flustered state, he wasn’t watching where he was going and accidentally bumped into the large bookcase. Thankfully, it was securely anchored to the wall, otherwise, he would have gone crashing down along with it and everything it held. Honestly, if that would had happened, Romano was pretty sure he would’ve died of sheer mortification on the spot.

The Italian quickly stepped back from the bookcase, making a conscious effort not to bump into anything else or cause more damage in the former nation's room, because that was the last thing he wanted to do.

Deciding it would be safer to just sit down and wait for Prussia to return, he turned to leave. However, his eyes caught sight of a photograph on one of the middle shelves, causing him to freeze in his tracks.

Against his better judgment, Romano slowly approached the glass display, squinting to get a better look. However, the dim lighting and the reflection on the glass made it difficult to see clearly. After sneaking another glance toward the door to make sure Prussia was still gone, Romano carefully opened the glass case and picked up the photograph.

Upon closer inspection, he realized it wasn’t a photograph at all, but an old portrait. The varnish had yellowed with age, and the paint was chipped in places, but that didn’t surprise him. What did surprise him, however, were the familiar faces captured in it.

One of the figures was unmistakably Prussia, dressed in a blue and red military uniform complete with a matching hat bearing the Prussian symbol. He was grinning broadly, kneeling beside a small boy who was clearly Germany, though judging by the sour look on the kid’s face, he wasn’t too thrilled to be part of the portrait. Romano couldn’t help but silently snicker at the sight. It had to be from when Germany was first created, which was a long time ago.

It was strange seeing Germany so small and moody, especially compared to the stoic man he was now. It was perfect blackmail material, really, but fortunately for Germany, Romano wasn’t the type to stoop that low.

Carefully, he returned the portrait to its place. Yet, he didn’t close the display case just yet. The Southern nation decided to snoop a little more through Prussia’s ancient collection of artifacts.

Romano spotted a few more portraits and decided to take a closer look at them. One of them had a date scribbled on it, 1748, and showed Prussia standing triumphantly while Austria sat nearby, looking thoroughly defeated and furious. Curious, Romano flipped the portrait over and found a message scrawled in Prussia’s handwriting on the back. He couldn’t understand most of it since it was written in German, but he did recognize the word "Silesia," which gave him a pretty good idea of what the painting depicted. It must have been from when Prussia had taken Silesia from Austria, explaining the sour look on the Austrian's face.

Another portrait showed Prussia in a different army uniform, surrounded by what looked like his soldiers, all smiling brightly. In yet another, Prussia stood beside his old boss, Frederick the Great, both of them wearing wide grins.

In every portrait, the former nation was smiling. Somehow, despite all the time that had passed, it seemed he hadn't lost that spark. The thought made the Southern half of Italy smile softly to himself.

After carefully placing the portraits back, Romano's gaze moved upward to the shelf above. This one was filled with various historical trinkets: a tarnished iron cross, an old pocket watch, a worn map, a faded regiment badge, coins from different eras, and even a brittle invitation to a ball. Along with these items were several photographs, some in black and white, others in color. Some featured Prussia with Spain and France, some with Prussia, Hungary, and Austria, others with Prussia and Germany, and a few with other nations. Romano’s eyes scanned the photos until they landed on one in particular, a photo he recognized.

"Huh?” the Southern nation murmured, stepping closer and quickly grabbing the photo in his hands.

It was a photo from last year, taken at the former nation's birthday, featuring the two Germanic brothers, Veneziano, and Romano himself, who was frowning in the picture. The Italian blinked in surprise. He remembered how Veneziano had begged him to attend Prussia's birthday party after being invited, insisting it would be rude to decline. Romano had been less than thrilled about the idea, and even more annoyed when the older German asked to take a photo with him. He distinctly recalled angrily yelling at Prussia, refusing to pose alone, which led to Germany and Veneziano stepping in to calm him down while still managing to get the photo.

The Italian cringed at how rude he had been back then, shaking his head at the memory. He hadn't expected Prussia to keep the photo, let alone display it. He had thought the German would just toss it away afterward. But the fact that Prussia had kept it made Romano feel kinda happy.

So absorbed in the moment, South Italy didn’t notice the white-haired man returning or approaching until he was standing right next to him.

"What are you looking at?" the former nation suddenly asked, causing Romano to jump in surprise and drop the photo onto the floor.

"Bastard!" he shouted, placing a hand over his rapidly beating heart. "You scared the life out of me!"

The German gave a small apologetic smile. "Sorry, I thought you heard me come in." he said, before kneeling down to pick up the photo. He glanced at it, and when he recognized what it was, a look of genuine happiness spread across his face. "Hey! This is from my birthday last year!" he exclaimed, looking at Romano with excitement before glancing back at the photo.

"Uh, yeah... I saw it and just decided to take a look." the Southern half of Italy explained, quickly adding, "I wasn't snooping or anything." It was a blatant lie, of course, since he had been snooping, but Prussia didn't need to know that.

The German didn't seem to mind, his attention fully captured by the photo. "Man, you really didn't want to be there, huh?" he chuckled. "I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone frown that much."

His words made Romano feel a little guilty. "Sorry..." he muttered.

"Nah, don't worry about it." Prussia said, waving a dismissive hand. "It just makes the photo more authentic." he gave the photo one last look, then carefully placed it back in its rightful spot, before proudly surveying his collection.

Romano followed Prussia's gaze, his eyes scanning the collection, before breaking the silence. "Do you keep pictures with everyone?" he asked, tilting his head slightly as he glanced at the other man.

The former nation turned to face him, shaking his head. "Nope, only the ones who are important to me."

"...Important to you?" South Italy repeated, to which the ex-nation simply nodded.

Important to Prussia... Romano's gaze drifted back to the photo with him in it, and he couldn't help but wonder: Did that mean he was important to the older German?

However, the Italian didn’t have much time to dwell on that thought, because the white-haired man suddenly brightened up and excitedly poked Romano in the arm, much like an eager child. "Hey, hey! Wanna check out my sword collection?"

At his words, the Southern nation blinked in surprise before glancing up toward the top shelf of the bookcase, where three swords were displayed horizontally.

"Sword collection?" Romano echoed before gazing back at the German. "You only have, like, three swords."

"A collection just means having more than one thing, and three counts as multiple!" Prussia explained, then sighed. "Besides, it's tough keeping swords intact for over a hundred years without them falling apart," he muttered before shaking off the thought. "Anyway, look at this one!" he exclaimed, reaching up to grab the middle sword, the oldest-looking one, its metal so tarnished it was almost orange, and practically shoving it in Romano's face. "Isn't it awesome?"

The Italian eyed the weapon for a moment before taking a step back and squinting at it. "It's... orange."

"Well, yeah, it's orange now because it oxidized, but it used to be white steel! Super flashy and awesome!" the former nation explained proudly. He strutted over to his bed, propped one foot onto it, and raised the sword high into the air like he was about to charge into battle. "I used to wear armor and a cape and make my enemies quake with fear with this thing! Haha!"

Romano watched the other man's knightly display and had to hold back a laugh. It wasn't that he doubted him—Prussia definitely had the history to back up his claims—but it was just funny to imagine that the guy currently wearing a shirt covered in the word "Awesome" and a pair of worn-out pajama pants had once been a fearsome war machine.

"Hey! I'm serious!" the former nation exclaimed, clearly catching Romano's struggle not to laugh. "I was an awesome knight! Everyone was terrified of me!"

"I don't doubt it," the Italian said, letting out a small laugh, which earned him an unimpressed look from the other man. Prussia then walked away from the bed, returned to the bookcase, and placed the sword back.

"See if I ever show you my awesome weaponry again." the red-eyed man muttered, though it was clear he was joking from the small smile tugging at his lips.

Romano glanced at the swords again before pointing at them. "So, you’ve got an orange, a green, and a brown sword? Quite the unique color palette you’ve got here."

"They oxidized!" Prussia exclaimed, gesturing toward the swords as if it were obvious. "I told you already, metal oxidizes over time. Steel turns reddish when it tarnishes, copper goes green, and bronze turns brown." he explained, clearly eager to defend his prized blades. "They might look awful now, but they looked really cool back in the day!"

"I believe you." Romano said, raising his hands in mock surrender, though he still looked like he was struggling to hold back laughter, prompting the former nation to turn him away from the sword collection.

The dark-haired Italian rolled his eyes before shifting his attention to the other items on display. He knelt down and spotted a large box on the lowest shelf, packed with what appeared to be journals.

"What’s this?" Romano asked, picking up a journal and flipping it open to the middle. He started reading the first sentence, but before he could even process it, Prussia quickly snatched the journal from his hands, tossed it back into the box, and practically yanked Romano to his feet, dragging him away.

"Nothing important, just random notebooks I keep, nothing exciting!" the German quickly explained, his face flushing slightly. "Here, sit down." he guided the Southern nation to the bed, gently pushing him into a sitting position before walking over to the nightstand. He picked up a mug and handed it to Romano, who barely caught it. "I made you some tea," Prussia continued. "Chamomile. Helps with sleep." he added quickly, before hurrying back to the bookcase and frantically closing the glass display.

Romano blinked in confusion at Prussia's sudden panic, not quite understanding why he was acting that way. He briefly considered asking, but decided to let it go for the moment.

His attention then shifted to the mug in his hands, the steam rising from the hot liquid inside. Tea wasn’t exactly his drink of choice—that was more of England's thing—but the gesture was thoughtful enough. With a small sigh, the man brought the mug to his lips and took a sip. The taste was more bitter than he expected, likely because he wasn’t accustomed to the flavor. He grimaced slightly, the sharpness of it lingering in his mouth, but he didn’t want to seem rude. So, he pushed through, continuing to drink until the mug was empty. Once Romano had finished, he placed it back on the nightstand.

As he settled back into his original position, smoothing the blanket beneath his hands, Romano glanced around, waiting for Prussia to join him. But then, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a yellow blur flying toward him. The Italian turned his head in confusion and was startled to see a small yellow bird land softly on the white blanket beside him. For a moment, he panicked, but quickly realized it was just Prussia’s bird.

"Oh, uh, hi little guy..." the Italian greeted awkwardly, giving the animal a small wave. The bird tilted its tiny head at him before hopping onto Romano’s knee and chirping cheerfully. "Um..." the man mumbled, unsure how to react. Animals weren't exactly his specialty. "Come on, shoo." he said, trying to gently wave the bird back onto the bed, but instead, it flitted onto his hand.

"Hey, no climbing on me...!" Romano muttered, frowning, though it didn't last long. The bird settled itself comfortably on his hand, fluffing up its feathers in such an adorable way that the Southern nation's heart practically melted.

Hesitantly, he reached out to pet the bird, and when it leaned into his touch, he had to physically restrain himself from squeezing it. Maybe he wasn’t as bad with animals as he thought. "Aww..." he breathed, finally understanding why the former nation was so attached to this little guy.

As Romano gently stroked the bird’s soft feathers, he heard footsteps drawing near. He turned just in time to see Prussia, whose earlier panic seemed to vanish as he spotted his bird perched on Romano’s hand. A smile spread across his face. “Never thought I’d see you two getting along.” he said, his voice light and amused. He knelt beside Romano, giving Gilbird a gentle poke, causing the bird to hide its face in its wing. “I hope you’re not causing any trouble for Romano."

"He's good." the Italian said, petting the bird again. “What a cutie..." he murmured as Gilbird let out another happy chirp.

"Course he’s cute! He takes after me!” Prussia declared, gesturing pridefully at himself.

Romano snorted. "Yeah right." he said, shaking his head with a faint smile. After a pause, he asked, “Do you train him or something?”

"Nah, but he listens to me,” the ex-nation replied with a shrug before snapping his fingers. “Right, Gilbird?” he called, but the bird didn’t move, clearly having dozed off. "Eh, well... most of the time." he added sheepishly, chuckling.

They stayed like that for a while, until Prussia finally rose to his feet, scooping Gilbird carefully into his hands. "Come on, buddy, let’s get you to bed,” he said, carrying the bird over to a small cage tucked into the corner of the room—one Romano hadn’t even noticed before. He gently set the bird inside, where it burrowed into its nest and continued to sleep peacefully.

Prussia smiled to himself, then made his way back to the bed, sitting down beside Romano and leaning back with a soft sigh. For a moment, he said nothing. Then, the German spoke, "He likes you.”

“Hm?” Romano hummed, confused.

“Gilbird." Prussia clarified.

At his words, the Southern nation simply shrugged. "He’s a bird. I’m sure he likes everyone.”

"Not true," Prussia corrected him. "He's actually pretty picky about people. For example, he doesn’t like West much—probably because my poor brother never lets him fly around the house." he explained. "Gilbird isn't too fond of France either. No idea why, though...."

Upon hearing that, Romano smiled faintly. "Your bird has good taste, then." he said, prompting a laugh from the other man.

"I suppose he does." the German agreed, looking at the southern half of Italy with softened eyes. He held that fond gaze until Romano turned toward him, meeting his stare with those bright hazel eyes—at which point Prussia quickly looked away.

The former nation straightened his posture and cleared his throat. "Anyway," he started, taking a moment to carefully choose his words. "If you don’t mind me asking... why couldn’t you sleep tonight?" he asked.

Romano looked at him in surprise.

Seeing his reaction, the red-eyed man quickly added, "I’m not trying to pry, but... I figure there’s gotta be a reason you’re awake, and maybe it’s the same thing that’s been keeping you up all these months too." he hesitated, then continued. "I’m no expert or anything, but if you tell me what’s bothering you, maybe I can help... or at least give you some advice."

Romano stared at him for a moment, his mind going completely blank. He blinked in confusion before it finally clicked. Oh, right. His insomnia.

He had almost forgotten—forgotten why he’d even gotten out of bed in the first place. He had been too distracted by Prussia’s strange but tidy room, and by the former nation himself. But now, with Prussia’s question hanging in the air, he remembered, and the unease he’d pushed aside slowly returned.

What kept Romano up at night? That was easy: his mind. He couldn’t sleep because he just couldn’t stop thinking. But saying that out loud? God, it sounded so stupid. Just the thought of admitting it made his stomach twist painfully. He hadn’t told anyone about it... not Veneziano, not anyone. No one knew that he spent night after night trapped in his own head, overthinking until it felt like his skull would crack from the pressure.

And now that Prussia had put it into words, Romano realized maybe... maybe talking about it could actually help, even if just a little. But the idea was terrifying. Other people had real problems—serious things that kept them awake at night: illness, trauma, work stress. And here he was, a centuries-old nation, losing sleep over some pointless thoughts. What kind of idiot stayed awake replaying every mistake, every failure, even the good memories, until they were nothing but bitter poison twisting inside his head?
No nation did that.
Only him.

It was ridiculous, really. The Italian had survived war, pandemics, widespread hunger, and even the deep poverty that once gripped his country. He had witnessed his homeland bleed and fall apart, only to see it rebuilt from the ruins, stronger and more brilliant than ever. He had endured it all. And yet here he was now, torn apart by his own thoughts every night... how dumb.

...

God damn it! He was even doing it now! Augh!

"Stupid, stupid, stupid..." the Italian muttered under his breath, his brows furrowed in frustration. Without even realizing it, he raised a hand to his face, his fingers clawing at his skin, a habit he had recently picked up when feeling distressed.

Before he could hurt himself further, a warm hand suddenly grabbed his wrist, pulling it firmly away from his face. Startled, Romano snapped out of his spiraling thoughts, blinking rapidly as he looked down at the hand gripping his wrist—Prussia’s hand. Slowly, the brunette's gaze traveled up to meet the other man's face, and he found himself staring into worried crimson eyes.

The former nation said nothing at first. He simply lowered Romano’s hand onto the bed between them, his thumb brushing briefly against the back of Romano’s hand before letting go. Then, tilting his head slightly, Prussia studied him closely, scanning his expression like he was trying to piece together a puzzle.

"Do you... always do that when you're stressed?" the German asked slowly.

South Italy opened his mouth but no words came out. He fumbled for a moment, shifting awkwardly before muttering, "I... I guess. I’m not really sure."

He dropped his gaze, staring down at their hands, or rather, at Prussia’s hand still half-hovering over his own. The former nation must have noticed, because he quickly pulled his hand back with a muttered apology.

Silence stretched between them, during which the Italian felt himself die inside at least three times over from shame for what he had done. It wasn’t the first time Prussia had seen him treat himself this way, but Romano desperately wished it hadn’t happened again. God...

At last, the ex-nation let out a deep sigh and spoke. "I didn’t mean to stress you out..." he said, running a hand through his white hair before letting it fall back onto the bed. "I just... I don’t know." he muttered, shaking his head. "Look, sorry. Forget I said that. You don’t have to tell me anything. It was stupid of me to even bring it up." he turned to face Romano, offering a lopsided, somewhat reassuring smile, though it was strained and tinged with guilt.

The Southern nation sat quietly, his breaths slow and steady as he thought. He despised the idea of opening up, and he hated even more the reason behind his insomnia.

It was humiliating just thinking about it!

Yet, deep down, he wanted to improve. He didn't want to keep suffering or losing his mind over things that, in the end, were unimportant. He longed to feel happy, rested, and at peace, just like he had at the fair a few hours ago. That had been really fun... Romano wished he could feel like that all the time. He was tired of having bad days, tired of drowning in self-pity and self-hatred. So if opening up was what it took, then he would do it. He was ready to try.

...

Well, Romano probably wouldn’t be able to say everything, but he’d share at least a little. He trusted the former nation now, and unlike just a few days ago, when he was certain he’d be torn apart for it, he knew his feelings wouldn’t be belittled. That thought brought him comfort, and with it, just enough courage to make up his mind.

"No." the Italian said abruptly, making the German’s strained smile waver.

"No...?" Prussia repeated, a hint of confusion in his voice.

Romano took a deep breath, hands resting in his lap as he nervously fidgeted with them. "What you said... it’s not stupid. You’re right." he admitted, exhaling slowly before forcing himself to continue. "The reason I can’t sleep is because I—" his voice wavered, the words catching in his throat. He swallowed hard, pushing past the hesitation. "I think. A lot." he finally said, the confession making his nerves prickle.

The Southern nation glanced at Prussia, searching his face for a reaction. To his surprise, the white-haired man's expression was filled with intense focus, as if he were absorbing every word, determined not to miss a thing.

"About what?" the German asked gently, encouraging the dark-haired brunette to go on.

"Well, about... things."

Wow. Good job to him. That was very elaborate.

"I mean," the Italian muttered, tightening his hands into fists before forcing himself to unclench them. "I think about... everything. The important stuff and the meaningless stuff." he paused. "I think about my country, about the failures I brought on it and its people, and how I could've avoided it all. I think about the people I know, about every stupid thing I've ever said or done to them. And I think about myself, every time I messed up, every time I made a fool of myself. It’s like... it’s like I'm replaying all these things in my head. Things that happened years ago, decades even. Things I shouldn't even be thinking about anymore, but it’s like they’re happening all over again. And every time, it fills me with regret and guilt that I don't know how to deal with." Romano let out a sharp breath, his chest tightening as the air around him seemed to grow heavier. "I can't stop it. One thought leads to another, and then to another, until it’s all just... too much."

Romano bit his tongue, casting another quick glance at Prussia. The other man hadn’t changed, his attention was still fully on Romano. There was no mockery in his eyes, no hint of judgment. He was simply listening.

It gave the Southern nation the strength to continue, even though every word he spoke felt like his teeth were being pulled out. "And it’s not just old stuff either," he said, his voice strained. "It’s the future too. I can’t stop thinking about all the what-ifs, everything that could go wrong, the failures I’ll face, the mistakes I’ll make... stuff that others wouldn’t like, things that would make me look pathetic, like a terrible person in their eyes..." he grimaced before murmuring so quietly it was barely audible, "Not that I’m not already a terrible person..."

The bitterness in his tone was so intense, one would think he was talking about an enemy rather than himself.

Romano caught the shift in Prussia’s face—a frown, followed by something harder to place. Distress? Anger? Confusion? He wasn't certain, but it made him panic a little.

It wasn't that he genuinely believed he was a terrible person... Okay, that was a lie. It was exactly how he saw himself. But it wasn’t without reason. He had plenty of proof to justify it. For instance... he was unnecessarily cruel to people, stubborn, rude, selfish, and far from good-hearted, unlike his brother, who was everything he wasn’t. He burdened others with his bad attitude and then had the audacity to feel guilty about it afterward. It sounded pathetic, and it was, but it was the truth. The ugly truth...

Ah, and now he’d gone and run his mouth like an idiot, spilling all those bitter, miserable thoughts and somehow managing to upset the former nation in the process. He should’ve just stayed quiet. Why couldn’t he have just stayed quiet? At least he’d managed to stop before he spiraled even further and made things worse.

The thing was… once he started talking about what was bothering him, he just couldn’t seem to stop.

It was terrifying, honestly, dragging out the thoughts he’d buried deep, the ones that were supposed to stay locked away. But it also felt... good. Like breathing after holding it in for too long. He hadn't meant to say so much, and definitely not like that. He’d promised himself he wouldn’t spill everything.

What scared him most, though, was how close he’d come to saying the one thing he never wanted to admit out loud: that he hated himself. Thoughts like that weren’t just dangerous, they were harmful. And a nation wasn’t supposed to think that way.

Romano took a shaky breath, feeling a knot form in his stomach, before he raised his hands and waved them dismissively, trying to push the uncomfortable subject away and ease the tension that had settled over Prussia. "A-anyway, it's no big deal! I’m probably just being dramatic!" he stammered. "It’s dumb. I should just stop thinking so much... ha." he forced a crooked, shaky smile, but even he could feel how brittle it was, how it cracked at the edges like thin ice under too much pressure.

There was a long, heavy pause as Prussia’s intense gaze remained fixed on Romano, making his skin crawl. It felt like an eternity before the former nation finally spoke. "I don’t think you’re a terrible person." he said flatly, catching Romano off guard.

"You..." Romano stretched out the word, uncertain if he'd heard the other correctly. "...What?"

"I don't think you're a terrible person." Prussia repeated, his voice more firm this time, as if to emphasize that he truly meant it and that his words weren’t just empty. "I don’t know where you got that idea from, but it’s completely wrong!" he said, his expression hardening with determination. He raised a fist and slammed it into the palm of his other hand, making Romano’s hazel eyes flicker to his hands before locking onto his face. "I mean, you’ve got a good heart, okay? Maybe you don’t go around being all soft and obvious about it, but that doesn’t change anything. It’s still there." he continued, speaking without hesitation, like he'd thought about this before. "Also, I had a great time with you today at the fair. Like, real fun. And you don't have fun with terrible people, you know? They make you upset, but you... you made me..." Prussia paused for a moment, choosing his words carefully. "Happy." he said with a small nod. "Yeah."

Romano felt his heart skip a beat at Prussia’s words, a strange tingling washing over his senses. To say he was caught off guard would be an understatement. He was completely stunned, overwhelmed, speechless. He hadn’t expected anything like this.

How could Prussia say such kind things? Then again, he always did. It wasn’t new for him to say things that made the Italian's walls crumble, even if they felt undeserved. Romano had always believed he wasn’t a good person, at least, that’s what he told himself. But, there was something about the sincerity in Prussia’s voice and the way that he spoke, that made the words feel real. And against all logic, Romano believed them. For once, instead of sinking deeper into his usual self-loathing, those words pulled him up. Made him dislike himself a little less.

The red-eyed man gave him a moment to take it all in before he continued.

"Sure, you’re a bit rough around the edges, but who isn’t? Even I am, and look at me, I'm the most awesome person there is!" Prussia said with a silly grin, gesturing to himself before pointing at Romano. "But hey, you’re not far behind," he added then shifted a little closer to the Italian, not enough to crowd him, but enough that Romano could feel the warmth of him nearby. "Cause you're pretty damn awesome yourself."

South Italy felt his face grow warm, not just from how close they were, but because he wasn’t used to being called "awesome". Prussia might have said that about everything, but this time, it felt different. It felt...

Ahhhh, this was too much!

In an instant, the Southern nation turned away, eyes squeezed shut, overwhelmed by emotions he didn’t quite know how to process. But the German seemed to misread the reaction.

"I’m not lying, really! Hook me up to a lie detector if you want, and you'll see that I'm telling the truth!"

"No, no... I ... I believe you, I really do," Romano said, stumbling over his words as he tried to ease the other’s worry. "It’s just…" he trailed off, struggling to untangle the mess of thoughts in his head.

Inside, he felt soft, like jello, that awful American dessert he couldn’t stand. But more than that, he also felt a strange dizziness. Not the usual panicked, uncomfortable kind he was used to, but something different. This was a sweet kind of dizziness, like he’d drunk an entire bottle of wine and was now tipsy.

Except he hadn’t had any alcohol. Not recently. Not in a long time.

And yet, the feeling lingered. It always seemed to show up whenever Prussia was around.

Romano tried to find an answer to that thought, to make sense of it all, but before he could, a yawn slipped past his lips

The Southern nation brought a hand to his mouth and blinked blearily, realizing just how tired he was.

Prussia noticed and grabbed his phone, checking the time. "It’s almost 2 AM…" he murmured, causing Romano to look at his phone in surprise.

Wow, it really was late. They’d been awake for quite a while. What was that saying again? Time flies when you’re having fun? Well, "fun" probably wasn’t the right word for what they’d been up to, but it seemed to fit anyway...

The dark-haired brunette shifted his gaze from the bright screen upward to glance at the former nation, maybe to comment on how late it was. But the words caught in his throat when he met Prussia's gaze. Romano had been aware they were a little too close for comfort, but it was only now that he realized just how close they truly were. In the dim light, the former nation's eyes, which seemed almost purple, widened slightly, briefly drifting downward before meeting Romano’s hazel ones again.

"We should..." Prussia said quietly, his words trailing off as if he wasn’t sure what he wanted to say.

"Yeah...?" Romano responded just as quietly, finding himself, strangely enough, wanting to get even closer. It seemed he wasn’t the only one—the German appeared to want the same. But before the moment could stretch any further, before anything could happen, the former nation quickly pulled back, shifting a little further away.

"Get some sleep." Prussia said, his voice strained, as though it took all his willpower to get the words out, like they weren’t exactly what he wanted to say. "We should get some sleep." he repeated.

That snapped Romano out of whatever trance had taken over him, leaving him momentarily disoriented, his heart pounding in his chest. He quickly shook his head. "R-right!" he agreed, cringing at the way his voice cracked.

The Italian stared intently at the floor, feeling like he was coming down from an adrenaline rush. Yet, for some reason, he also felt strangely disappointed, though he couldn’t quite understand why.

Romano focused on the spotless floorboards, his gaze almost burning into them. He really needed to get his mind out of the gutter and stop dwelling on this. He should get some sleep, after all, that’s why he’d come to Prussia in the first place, to sleep, not to question the things he was feeling.

It was silent between them, a very thick and heavy one, before Romano broke it.

"That’s…” he began, his voice unsteady. He quickly cleared his throat and tried again. "That’s actually what I wanted to ask you...” his words caught the German's attention. “Could you talk to me? Like last time…?” he asked, then hurried to clarify. “You know, when you started telling me about one of your wars, how it began, and how your soldiers came up with some sleeping method during it, and—” he stopped mid-sentence, his thoughts catching up with his mouth. After a brief pause, he looked at Prussia, brow furrowing. “There was no actual military method, was there?”

The ex-nation blinked in surprise before rubbing the back of his neck, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips.

"Ah, you figured me out." he admitted, letting out a weak chuckle before nodding. "Yeah, there's no military method, not really. Techniques like that can help, but they only work about 60% of the time, and it really depends on the person." he sighed. "And since you were too worked up back then for something like that, I used the world's best, yet most overlooked trick to get people to sleep. Storytelling."

"Storytelling?" the hazel-eyed man repeated, tilting his head in confusion.

"Yup! Well, I didn’t exactly tell you a story, it was all based on real events, but I kept the same style in how I narrated it." Prussia admitted. "I used to do this for my brother when he was really young, about this big," he gestured with his hand. "He had trouble sleeping, so I’d tell him about my past battles. It worked like a charm every time, haha." his expression softened for a moment, growing nostalgic, before he looked at the Southern nation. "Nurses actually used to do something similar during the war. A lot of soldiers had terrible nightmares from being on the front lines and couldn’t sleep. So the nurses would tell them stories to ease their stress. They reminded the soldiers of their mothers and gave them a feeling of home." he explained, a hint of sadness creeping into his voice before he gave a small shake of his head. "So, I guess you could call it a kind of half-military method, if you want, but it’s really just simple storytelling, nothing more."

"Ah..." the Italian murmured, letting Prussia’s words sink in. He had realized that there hadn’t been any real military method and it had been just the way Prussia spoke to him that had distracted him enough to fall asleep. But, he hadn’t even considered that it could’ve been something as simple as storytelling. He’d completely forgotten that something so simple could help people sleep. Probably because it seemed childish, and he didn’t want to be seen that way. But now... it didn’t feel childish at all. It felt comforting.

Romano had no idea the former nation used to be so level-headed with the younger German. Honestly, he still was, the Southern nation had just always seen him through the wrong lens. Because Prussia was loud, energetic, and full of pride, Romano had dismissed him too quickly. He shouldn’t have. Like the saying goes, don’t judge a book by its cover. And the more time he spent with Prussia, the more he realized how unfair he’d been. He’d misjudged him… and even wronged the former nation by being so hateful toward him without ever trying to understand him.

"Can you tell me about another one of your battles?" South Italy suddenly asked.

Prussia blinked in mild surprise, but his expression softened, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Yeah," he replied, his voice warm. "Of course I can."

He appeared to prepare himself to speak, but before he could utter a word, something in his gaze changed, as if a memory was pulling at the edges of his thoughts. He looked at Romano for a long moment, the way one might look at a painting that made them feel something they couldn’t quite name. Without saying a word, he moved closer, leaned forward, and gently tapped the Italian's forehead with two fingers.

"First, though," he said, his tone growing a bit more serious. "get outta your own head, alright? Quit stressing over crap that’s already done and dusted and can't be changed. And don’t get lost worrying about the future either, especially when you have no control over it. You can’t predict how things will turn out, so don’t waste your energy expecting the worst."

Romano's mouth parted slightly at the man's words, caught off guard by them. Still, he had to admit, they held truth. He really did need to stop overthinking. But changing how he thought wasn’t that simple. And yet… something about Prussia made him want to try.

With a soft exhale, Romano reached up, gently brushing the former nation's hand away from his forehead. His fingers lingered just a moment longer than necessary on the other's, though neither said anything, before he finally let go.

“…Okay." the Italian murmured.

Prussia let out a quiet chuckle, the sound tinged with something close to fondness. He shifted closer to the wall, leaned against it, and gave the spot beside him a small pat.

Romano hesitated for a moment before moving to join him. He sat down, pulling his knees to his chest and wrapping his arms around them. Then he looked at the German with expectant eyes.

"This one was during the early 1700s… I wasn’t as strong back then, still carving out my country. But I was just as awesome,” Prussia added with a faint smirk. “It was a small battle by today’s standards, but it was the first time my troops stood their ground on frozen soil for three days straight, no supplies, no backup. Just raw strength and the instinct to survive.”

His voice was low and smooth, not filled with the usual pride he carried, but with a quiet reverence for the people he had once led. Romano listened, the dark thoughts in his mind fading as he focused solely on the red-eyed man's voice. It was calming, the rhythm of Prussia’s words, the way his tone sank with sorrow and rose with triumph. It didn’t feel like history, it felt like watching someone bring a memory back to life.

Romano wanted to keep listening, but his eyes grew heavier with every word. He blinked slowly, the room beginning to blur at the edges. Eventually, he let his eyes fall shut.

Somewhere between being awake and asleep, a thought crossed his mind: maybe one day he’d tell Prussia everything he was holding in. Maybe he’d stop hating himself so much and sleep peacefully again, like he used to... Not today, but someday.

And then the words melted into a soft hum, until even that disappeared.

For the second time since his insomnia began, Romano slept feeling at peace.

Chapter Text

The next day, Romano woke up feeling like he’d just come back from the dead. He let out a groggy grunt and instinctively tried to bury his face in his pillow, only to be met with the stiff surface of the mattress. Confused and half-asleep, he raised a hand and patted the space around him, hoping to find the missing pillow and slip back into sleep. But his search came up empty.

A small frown formed on his face as he patted the mattress again, this time with more irritation, yet still found nothing. With a frustrated sigh, he reluctantly pushed himself upright, eyes heavy with sleep. Blinking didn’t do much to shake the drowsiness, so he rubbed at his eyes until they stopped threatening to close again.

Romano yawned and stretched a bit before letting his hands fall onto the blanket covering him, or more accurately, the half that hadn’t slipped off the bed. The rest hung over the edge like it had tried to make a run for it during the night. Oh, and there, on the floor beside it, was his pillow. Seriously, how much had he tossed and turned in his sleep?

Actually, never mind. That didn’t matter. For all he knew, he could’ve rolled right off the bed and back on again. What did matter was that he had slept.

Yay!

Romano had slept through the entire night without waking up once, and for the second day in a row, too. It was, as Prussia would say, awesome! And also a new personal record for Romano. The thought made him genuinely happy.

The Southern nation made a small celebratory gesture before it finally occurred to him that he wasn’t in his own room. Right, this was Prussia's room. The realization caused his still-drowsy mind to momentarily short-circuit, but that was nothing compared to when it fully hit him that he was in Prussia's bed, which also meant he had slept in it all night.

Ahhhhh!

What the hell, Romano?!

The Italian’s heart raced in panic as he quickly turned to look at the other side of the bed, unsure of what he was even expecting to find. Well, actually, he was expecting to see Prussia there, since he remembered there being only one bed in the room and recalling falling asleep beside him. It seemed like the most logical conclusion. But when he looked, the other side of the bed was empty, neat, and undisturbed, as if it had never been used. That confirmed it. Prussia hadn’t slept next to him.

At that realization, the Southern nation frowned, his lips pulling into a quiet pout. But he quickly snapped out of it, shaking his head and turning away, raising his palms to his cheeks. "Ah, che diavolo...! (Ah, what the hell...!)" he muttered under his breath, giving his cheeks a light slap. There was no reason for him to feel... disappointed. In fact, he should’ve been relieved! It would’ve been weird if they’d slept in the same bed. Right? Right.

But then, if he had slept in Prussia’s bed… where had the former nation slept?

Romano’s gaze slowly swept across the room. It was incredibly dim, though that was to be expected. It was the basement, and without any windows, there was no sunlight to brighten the space. (Prussia had another room upstairs, but he preferred the basement, where he could be as loud as he wanted without disturbing anyone, especially Germany.) The lack of light made it impossible to tell what time it was, leaving Romano unsure whether it was morning or well past noon.

His hazel eyes finally landed on a familiar figure slouched on the small couch pressed against the far wall. Romano blinked, processing the sight. There was Prussia, legs awkwardly bent, head tilted back, arms crossed as if he were bracing himself against a brutal winter storm. No blanket. No pillow. Just... the couch. The tiny couch.

Romano stared, a warm feeling curling in his chest. Had he…? Had Prussia really slept there, on that small, uncomfortable-looking couch? (Could it even be called a couch? It was far too small!) Just so Romano could have the bed? Just so Romano would be comfortable?

That was... that was so sweet.

The Italian sighed softly. "…idiot." he murmured, but the word lacked any bite. In fact, it was filled with fondness.

He smiled faintly before carefully sliding out of bed. Romano first walked over to the small nightstand, where he saw Prussia's phone. He double-tapped the screen to check the time. The home screen showed a collage of pictures of Gilbird, and Romano couldn’t help but think it was incredibly dorky, but in a cute way. He quickly looked away from the pictures and focused on the time. 8:34 AM. Wow, that was early. A few years ago, before his insomnia, waking up at this kind of hour would have been totally unacceptable unless it was a workday. On days off, he wouldn’t get up before 10 AM. But now, he didn’t mind as much. As long as he got some sleep, the time didn’t really matter.

The Italian tiptoed across the room, intending to leave, but his eyes landed on Prussia once more. He glanced at the sleeping man, then at the blanket hanging halfway off the bed, and back again. His heartbeat picked up as he quietly walked over, picked up the blanket, gave it a quick shake to straighten it out, and carried it to the couch. He hesitated for a moment before gently draping it over Prussia's slumped form. The movement caused the other man to shift, now lying in an even more uncomfortable position while murmuring something unintelligible in his sleep, before settling back down with his face buried in the blanket.

Romano rolled his eyes, but a hint of concern tugged at his expression. He leaned down slightly. “You’re gonna screw up your back sleeping like that…” he muttered, voice barely above a whisper.

He stared at the German for a long moment before, without really thinking, lifting a hand and gently running his fingers through the ex-nation’s messy hair. It was softer than he’d expected, though thoroughly tangled. Not that it surprised him. The guy looked like he hadn’t touched a comb in years.

Romano quietly untangled the Prussian's hair, so focused on the task that he didn’t notice Gilbird flutter down onto the backrest of the couch. It wasn’t until the tiny yellow bird erupted into a flurry of chirps that Romano snapped out of his daze, pulling his hand back and blinking at the animal in surprise.

"Ah—! Gilbird, shh!” he hissed, glancing nervously between the little bird and its sleeping owner. “You’ll wake him up...!” he added in a hurried whisper, motioning frantically toward Prussia as if the bird could actually understand what he was saying.

Gilbird went quiet, blinking once before tilting its tiny head to the side. It stared at Romano for a moment and then, without warning, flew over and landed squarely on his head.

The dark-haired brunette froze for a moment, unsure of what to do, before letting out a soft, exasperated sigh. He glanced upward even though he couldn’t see anything. "You've got way too much energy for how early it is..." he muttered quietly, then shifted his focus back to the couch.

He remained still for a beat, then exhaled in relief when he saw that Prussia hadn’t stirred. The last thing he needed was for the ex-nation to wake up and catch him acting like a complete creep, messing with his hair. Seriously, who goes around touching people’s hair while they sleep? Get a grip, Romano reprimanded himself internally. With that, he began to carefully back away from the couch, making sure not to make a sound.

Once he was far enough from the sleeping German, the Southern half of Italy carefully reached up and gently took Gilbird off his head, cradling the tiny bird in both hands. "You’re probably hungry, huh?" he murmured, a small smile tugging at his lips as Gilbird chirped softly in response. "Come on, let’s get you some breakfast."

The Italian padded across the room toward the corner where Prussia had stashed Gilbird’s cage. There, right beside it, sat an open bag of birdseeds. Romano knelt down and grabbed a small pinch, scattering it into the tray inside the cage.

"There,” he said softly. “Now, be quiet, okay? Let Prussia sleep.” he gently stroked Gilbird with one finger before placing him in the cage. The bird let out a single chirp, what Romano hoped was a sign of agreement, then immediately began pecking at the seeds.

Romano straightened up, casting one last glance over his shoulder at Prussia. Then, moving with quiet precision, he slipped out of the room and closed the door behind him with a soft click.

As he reached the first floor, he was immediately assaulted by the brightness flooding through every visible window. He squinted, resisting the urge to hiss like a bat, before heading upstairs to his own room.

After changing out of his pajamas, Romano made his way to the bathroom to freshen up. Strangely, the house was still silent. Despite the fact that it wasn’t particularly early, no one else seemed to be awake. Not even Germany, who Romano had expected to be up and about by now.

Uncertain of what to do, the Italian returned to his room and stayed there for a while, checking his messages. Spain had sent a few, asking how the trip was going and if he was enjoying himself. Romano replied that everything was fine. There were also messages from Belgium, mentioning she’d just produced a huge batch of chocolate and was thinking of sending some to her friends. She asked if he wanted any. Of course, Romano said yes, after all, who in their right mind would refuse Belgian chocolate?

Next, the Italian opened his inbox and was immediately hit with the overwhelming number of unread emails. There were dozens, maybe more, each one probably full of reminders, reports, and tasks waiting for him when he returned to Italy. The thought of being buried in paperwork as soon as he got home made his mood drop, and he let out a groan. The last thing he wanted to think about was all the work waiting for him. So, with a frustrated shake of his head, he closed the email app and decided to find something else to do.

Romano went back downstairs to the first floor and flipped through the TV channels, hoping to find something interesting to watch. Most of the programs were in German, though, and he could barely understand a word. After a while, he gave up, turned off the TV, and sank into the couch, staring at the ceiling. He hadn’t realized how boring it could be when no one else was around.

The Southern nation blew a puff of air at his bangs, crossed his arms, and propped his legs up on the couch, curling up into a ball of boredom. Thankfully, his boredom didn’t last long. He soon heard the sound of movement coming from upstairs, followed by the familiar thud of footsteps descending the stairs.

Romano shifted on the couch, leaning forward to peek out and see who it was. Since Prussia was in the basement, it couldn’t be him. That left either Veneziano or Germany. Romano hoped it was his little brother, though he wouldn’t mind if it was Germany, it just wasn’t his first choice.

To the older Italian's relief, the person coming down the stairs turned out to be Veneziano. As soon as he saw him, South Italy immediately jumped to his feet and walked over to greet him.

"Buongiorno." he said with a small wave.

Veneziano looked a little surprised at first, but then his face lit up with a bright smile. "Buongiorno, fratello!" he exclaimed, stepping forward to give Romano a quick hug before pulling back. "I didn’t think I’d see you up this early, it’s only..." he paused, glancing around the room in search of a clock. His eyes finally landed on one. "9 AM!" he announced, then turned back to Romano with a curious look. "What are you doing up so early?"

"I could ask you the same thing." Romano replied.

"Oh, well, I would have slept longer but the sun woke me up since I forgot to close the blinds last night," the younger Italian explained, gesturing with his hands. "I thought about closing them now and going back to bed, but I didn't want to make any noise and wake Germany up. He's such a light sleeper, and those stupid blinds are ridiculously loud!" he added with a slight frown, as if he had a personal grudge against them. Then he shook his head and smiled again. "So I figured I might as well just get up!"

Romano blinked, then tilted his head slightly. "The bastard's not up yet?"

"Ah, no..." Veneziano replied, wincing a little. "Germany got a call from his boss yesterday about some urgent issue with the economy and he stayed up late trying to fix it," he explained, his smile turning slightly sad. "So, he’s sleeping in today."

"Ah, I see..." Romano nodded slowly, feeling a bit sorry for the younger German. The guy never seemed to catch a break.

"Anyway," Veneziano said, giving South Italy a small nudge. "What’s got you up so early?" he asked. Romano was about to give a simple answer, saying that he just woke up and decided to get up, but before he could say anything, Veneziano suddenly let out a loud gasp and grabbed him by the shoulders, his eyes wide with concern. "Wait a second, don’t tell me...!" he exclaimed. "You couldn’t sleep last night, could you?"

At that, the older Italian blinked in mild surprise and furrowed his brow, ready to tell Veneziano that he had indeed slept and that there was no need to worry. However, before he could get a word out, Veneziano quickly grabbed his head and pulled it close to his chest, holding him tightly like a distressed mother comforting her child.

"Oh, you poor thing! Why didn’t you say anything?!" the younger Italian asked, his voice filled with distress, as though he might burst into tears. "You should’ve come to me! I would’ve stayed up with you and made you some Pasta alla Norma, and then—"

"Veneziano!" Romano exclaimed, wrenching himself free from his brother’s strong grip and almost losing his balance in the process. He quickly steadied himself, letting out a long sigh as he ran a hand through his hair. "Dio, you could kill a man with these hands of yours..." he muttered under his breath before shaking his head and meeting his brother’s worried gaze. "Per favore, don’t worry, I slept just fine last night, really well. So, stop fussing, Va bene? (Okay?)"

As soon as he heard Romano’s words, all the worry disappeared from the younger Italian's face, replaced by a bright smile, as if he hadn't been concerned at all. "Fratello, that’s great! Why didn’t you say something sooner? You had me all worried for no reason! My heart nearly dropped!" he laughed, placing a hand over his chest to emphasize the scare he had.

"Someone wouldn’t let me speak..." the Southern nation mumbled, rolling his eyes. This earned a sheepish smile from Italy, followed by a small apology.

The two brothers chatted for a little while longer before deciding to head into the kitchen to make some coffee, cappuccino to be exact. Veneziano brewed the coffee while Romano prepared the cream. The kitchen was quiet except for the soft hum of the coffee machine and the occasional clink of utensils. It stayed that way until the younger man broke the silence.

"Hey, Fratello?"

"Hm?"

"I have a question."

"What?"

"Are you..." Veneziano began, stretching out the word as if he was unsure how to express his thoughts. He hesitated for a moment before continuing. "...are you okay now?" he asked, quickly adding, "I mean, with your insomnia and everything... Is everything fine now? Will you be able to sleep properly from now on?"

Romano froze for a moment, turning to look at his brother with wide eyes. He hadn’t thought about that at all, which was surprising, considering he usually overthought everything. But somehow, this had slipped his mind entirely.

Reluctantly, Romano rested a hand on his chest, as if hoping to feel his soul beneath and offer his brother the most honest answer he could find.

He did feel better. Far better than when he’d first arrived in Germany, or even before that. More than that, he felt at peace, if that made any sense.

Since he’d woken up, he hadn’t had a single bad thought, nor had he felt like ending it all over things that had happened far too long ago to still matter. And… he hadn’t even mentally called himself a bad person, like he was so used to doing. He actually felt good. Genuinely good.

Talking to Prussia yesterday… it felt like something inside him had shifted for the better. Romano still wasn’t sure how well he’d sleep from now on. After all, he had relied on Prussia to get through the past two nights. But even with that uncertainty, he felt hopeful. For once, he truly believed that everything was going to be okay.

"Yeah," the Southern nation finally replied, letting the word linger in the air before continuing. "I think... I'll be fine from now on." he exhaled softly and gave a small nod to show he meant it.

At that, Veneziano let out a quiet sigh of relief, a gentle smile spreading across his face. "I'm glad... really, really glad," he said. Just as he finished speaking, the coffee machine beeped. "Oh! The coffee’s done!" he exclaimed, quickly pouring it into two mugs before hurrying over to Romano. "Pour the foam, fratello!"

"Ah, right." the older Italian muttered, carefully pouring the foam over the dark coffee. The rich liquid quickly lightened to a warm brown, vanishing beneath the thick foam. Veneziano then grabbed some cocoa powder and sprinkled a little over both drinks. With a grin, he handed one mug to Romano, taking the other for himself.

"Cheers!" the Northern nation exclaimed with a smile, taking a contented sip from the hot, steaming drink.

Romano offered a faint smile in response. "Cheers..." he muttered softly, then took a sip of his own coffee. As always, it was pure Heaven on Earth, and he couldn’t help but silently thank his people for creating such a divine drink. How had anyone survived in the past without coffee?

The two Italians drank their coffee in silence. Once they were done, they left the mugs in the sink, both choosing not to wash them since neither of them liked doing dishes, before sitting down at the table.

Veneziano pulled out his phone and decided to show Romano a new book he’d found and was eager to buy and read. Romano glanced at the cover with interest, commenting that the art was beautiful, but his gaze unknowingly drifted to the time in the corner of the screen.

"It's almost 10 AM..." he murmured, a slight frown appearing on his face as he glanced toward the hallway, which led both upstairs to the second floor and down to the basement. "Are they really still sleeping?"

"Hm?" North Italy hummed, a hint of confusion in his voice as he followed the older Italian's gaze. "Do you mean Germany and Prussia?"

"Who else?" Romano replied sarcastically, letting out a huff.

"Well, they’re probably both really tired. I know Germany is, at least. As for Prussia... it depends on whether he stayed up late." the light-haired brunette said, a thoughtful expression on his face.

"He did," the Southern nation replied slowly, not fully processing his words as his mind drifted back to the late-night conversation he and Prussia had until 2 AM. But when he noticed his brother’s questioning gaze, Romano realized what he’d said and quickly tried to cover up. "I-I mean, I think he did!" he stammered, his face flushing. "You know how he is? He likes to stay up late, doing whatever it is he does, so it only makes sense that he probably stayed up late again!" he said quickly, then, for good measure, added, "Uh, but who knows? Maybe he went to bed really early... no way of knowing, hah!"

Veneziano blinked, then fixed him with a suspicious look that made Romano wish he could disappear into the floor and never come back up.

Agh, why did he always speak before thinking? Stupid mouth!

It wasn’t that he minded Veneziano knowing he and Prussia had grown closer. That much was probably obvious by now, so there was no real point in hiding it. What he did mind, though, was the thought of his brother finding out he had spent the night with Prussia. Oh God, that sounded so wrong!

That he had stayed in Prussia’s room?

...

It didn’t sound any better.

Damn it! No matter how he phrased it, it still sounded completely wrong.

The worst part was, nothing had even happened! He had just fallen asleep… in Prussia’s bed.

Ugh. Embarrassing. So embarrassing.

Romano sat stiffly, meeting his brother’s gaze like a deer caught in headlights. He was convinced the Northern nation was about to comment on what he’d said, and that everything would spiral downhill from there. But to his surprise, Veneziano simply shook his head then flashed Romano his typical carefree smile. “I suppose you’re right, fratello!”

Romano let out what was probably the loudest sigh of relief of his life, his whole body slumping with it. Phew! That had been way too close.

"Yeah..." the Southern nation said, his voice a little unsteady. Thankfully, Veneziano didn’t mention it, instead turning his attention back to his phone.

The older Italian watched his brother for a moment before leaning back in his chair, hazel eyes drifting toward the clock. He watched the longer arrow spin once, then twice, each turn marking the slow minutes slipping by.

Time was moving too slowly for his liking... or maybe that wasn’t quite it.

He didn’t want to admit it, but he kind of wanted Prussia to wake up just so he could spend time with him. It felt weird and way too sappy, especially for someone like Romano, who usually preferred being alone. But with Prussia, it was different. He actually wanted to be around him. So the fact that he was still asleep was totally ruining things. Seriously, how long could someone even sleep?

Romano let out a quiet huff, resting his hand on the table and tapping his fingers against the wood. It was strange, too, because Prussia was usually an early riser, no matter how late he stayed up. It didn’t quite fit his energetic personality, but it was true—he was up with the sun most mornings, just like Germany. Although, that wasn’t really surprising. Germany was probably the most punctual person Romano knew, except it seemed, today.

Romano grumbled under his breath, his gaze dropping to the table. When Prussia finally woke up, he’d most likely be starving. The guy always ate ridiculously early and in absurd amounts. Sausages, eggs, potatoes, bread, cheese, enough food to put someone into a coma. And since it was already way past his usual eating time, that was probably going to be the case.

The Southern nation scowled in thought for a moment before an idea suddenly popped into his head. What if he made Prussia breakfast? He vaguely recalled the ex-nation mentioning once that he liked pancakes.

Hmm...

Romano actually wanted to do something nice for him. The albino had done a lot for him lately, and while he, himself, wasn’t exactly known for kind gestures—that was more Veneziano’s department—he could cook. In fact, he was great at it. So maybe... maybe he could make the former nation breakfast as a way of returning the favor. It wasn’t much, and it wasn’t the same, but it was something...

Not pancakes, though. No way. He had his pride, and American food could stay in America. But he could make something similar, like crepes. Prussia would definitely like them.

And while he was at it... he supposed he could make some for Germany too. It would be kind of rude not to. Perhaps even suspicious. He’d already let something slip around Veneziano—he didn’t need any more screw-ups.

But... um... how exactly was he supposed to say this? Romano wasn’t the type to cook for others, and Veneziano knew that all too well. He had to choose his words carefully and come up with a convincing excuse for making crepes without sounding suspicious. But how?

Uhh... he could say...

Um.

Wow, It was surprisingly difficult to come up with an excuse for making crepes that wouldn’t sound suspicious.

Romano's face twisted into an involuntary frown, his lips pressing together as he unintentionally took on a grumpy expression, one that, unfortunately, didn’t escape Veneziano’s notice.

"Fratello, what's wrong? Your brow is all furrowed, and you look like you're about to pop a blood vessel!" the Northern nation exclaimed, dropping his phone onto the table with a loud thud. Though, he didn’t seem to care, his focus completely on Romano.

"Uh… I was just…” South Italy hesitated, cursing himself for letting his thoughts show so obviously on his face. His mind raced, realizing he hadn’t come up with anything to say. “Um…”

His hazel eyes briefly darted to his hands, and he quickly clasped them together to stop himself from gesturing messily, as he often did when he started to panic.

Well, this was it. He’d have to wing it and hope for the best.

Clearing his throat, Romano lifted his gaze and exhaled sharply. "Veneziano," he began, feeling a surge of confidence. "I—" But just as he was about to continue, his confidence evaporated in an instant, and he quickly fell silent, shutting his mouth.

Damn it, Romano!

"Huh? You what?" Veneziano asked, looking throughly confused.

"It... it doesn't matter!" the Southern half of Italy sputtered, shaking his head. "Just forget I said anything!" he added, quickly spinning his chair around and glancing up at the ceiling, as if it had suddenly become the most fascinating thing in the room.

"Eh?! Wait, why?!" the light-haired brunette exclaimed, his voice rising in confusion. He scooted his chair closer to Romano and tapped him impatiently on the arm. "Hey, come on! Don’t do this!" he whined, his brow furrowing slightly. "You can't start saying something and not finish it!" he said, clearly frustrated. "Now you’ve got me really curious!"

South Italy simply waved a dismissive hand and shook his head, keeping his lips sealed.

"Fratellooo!" Veneziano whined, pulling on his arm urgently. "You know how much I hate being left in the dark!" he said, tugging harder. Romano yanked his arm free, crossing it over his chest in a clear act of defiance.

That only made the light-haired brunette more persistent. "Come on, what is it?" he asked, but when he saw Romano wasn't budging, he changed tactics. "Did something happen? Is pasta illegal now? Did our boss call with some terrible news? Did a war start?!" Veneziano blurted out, his words becoming more frantic by the second. Romano stared at him in confusion, but unfortunately for him, Veneziano seemed to take his bewildered expression as confirmation of his last question. "Mio Dio! It's a war, isn't it?"

"What?! No—" Romano tried to respond to his brother's absurd accusation and stop his excessive rambling. But before he could get the words out, Veneziano erupted into an over-the-top, worried rant.

"Oh God! We're going to war! Our country will be destroyed!" he shouted, practically leaping out of his seat and wrapping Romano in a tight, suffocating hug. "I don't want to go to war, fratello! I hate wars! Do we even have enough resources to hold our ground? Will we have to borrow money from other nations? Do we even have allies—"

"Jesus, Veneziano!" the Southern nation suddenly exclaimed, cutting off his brother’s rant as he scrambled to escape the tight hug, literally jumping out of his seat to avoid being crushed. "What the hell?! Why do you always assume the worst?!"

The younger Italian blinked at him and opened his mouth to respond, but Romano interrupted him before he could say anything.

"No. We're not going to war. There’s no war. Where did you even get that idea?" the dark-haired brunette replied, tilting his head in confusion and disbelief before letting out a sigh. "Everything is fine. Stop worrying over nothing."

Upon hearing that, North Italy looked incredibly relieved. "Oh, thank goodness!" he sighed, wiping an imaginary bead of sweat from his forehead. "I got so worried! I thought I was going to have to be on the front lines again, and you know how terrifying it is there!" he said, placing his hands on his cheeks and shaking his head, as if the mere thought of it scared him.

Romano rolled his eyes but silently agreed with his younger sibling, as being on the front lines really was terrifying. However, before he could dwell on it further, Veneziano spoke up again.

"Hey, wait a second! If it’s nothing bad, then why don’t you want to tell me what’s on your mind?" he asked, his expression filled with genuine confusion.

Romano turned his gaze to the side and gritted his teeth. "Because... it’s not important!" he snapped, quickly adding, "It’s stupid! Just drop it!"

Veneziano seemed to grow frustrated with Romano’s refusal to speak his mind. He quickly stepped closer, grabbing him by the forearms and giving him a slight shake.

"No, it's not stupid if it's on your mind fratello!" the Northern nation argued. "Plus, you know I never think anything you say is stupid, well, unless it really is, but you don’t usually think stupid things, so there’s nothing to worry about! So, per favore, tell meee"

Romano cringed, not wanting to say a word. It was just too embarrassing. He still couldn’t figure out what excuse to make, and none of the ones that came to mind felt convincing enough. It was as though the universe itself was forcing him not to lie. Damn you, universe!

"Ugh... fine," the Southern nation muttered grumpily in defeat, which made Veneziano’s face light up with what was probably the happiest smile he’d ever seen. "I just... I wanna make crepes..." he admitted at last, watching as Veneziano’s smile faltered and his expression shifted to one of pure confusion.

"Crepes?" the younger Italian repeated, his voice filled with disbelief. "That's what you didn’t want to tell me?" he asked. "There’s nothing wrong with wanting to make crepes, fratello! They’re really tasty! Just because they’re French doesn’t mean it’s an offense to our culture if you make them—"

"That's not it, God damn it! Stop making things up and just shut up and let me finish!" Romano snapped, scowling at his younger sibling. Veneziano blinked in surprise before briefly looking away, then back at Romano, clearly confused.

"But you were done talking..." he said slowly. However, when he saw Romano's glare intensify, he quickly released his forearms and stepped back in surrender. "Okay..."

The Southern nation let out a deep sigh, trying to steady his nerves, before clearing his throat. "As I was saying," he began, crossing his arms as if to shield himself from what he was about to confess. "I want to make crepes, but... not just for the sake of making crepes... I want to make them for... Prussia." he mumbled the last part so softly it was barely audible, forcing Veneziano to strain to hear.

"Could you repeat that? I barely caught any of it!" the Northern nation said with a sheepish laugh, gesturing toward Romano. "You’ve got to speak louder, like you’re on stage and there’s a whole crowd waiting to hear your words!"

At that, South Italy grimaced, the thought of presenting what he wanted to say to the whole world feeling like an absolute nightmare. He definitely didn’t want to repeat himself. It had been too embarrassing the first time, and the thought of saying it again made him want to crawl out of his own skin. Besides, Veneziano should be paying better attention!

But for his brother’s sake, he took a sharp breath, exhaled slowly, and raised his voice a little more. "I want to make them for... Prussia." he said again, though his voice dropped at the former nation’s name, still coming out muffled. Veneziano furrowed his brows in confusion.

"For who?"

Romano’s frustration grew at that, and he groaned, his face flushing from a mix of embarrassment and irritation. He uncrossed his arms, clenched his fists, and stomped his foot on the ground, causing his younger sibling to flinch at the sudden outburst.

"Mio Dio, Veneziano! Use your damn ears!" the man shouted. "I said I want to make crepes for Prussia!" he practically yelled.

The younger Italian stared at him, eyes wide with shock, and it took Romano a moment to realize what he'd said. He had completely forgotten to mention Germany, which made his actions seem a lot more suspicious. His face flushed even more, and in a panic, he quickly started waving his hands dismissively in front of Veneziano.

"F-for Prussia and Germany! I wanna make crepes for both those damn bastards!" he blurted out, fumbling over his words. "Because they always eat that awful food in the morning, and if I have to look at any more minced, heavily processed meat shaped like sausages, it's going to ruin my whole day!" he shouted, quickly adding, "This is for me, not them!"

North Italy continued to stare at him, wide-eyed, making Romano feel like he was about to sink straight into a puddle of shame.

Augh!

This had been a stupid thing to say, stupid to even think, and now he was going to have to smother himself with a pillow just to escape the awful awkwardness.

Fuuuuuck!

However, before he could sink any deeper into his mortification, Veneziano suddenly shook his head, the shock disappearing from his face in an instant. He clasped his hands together and smiled so brightly that Romano had to squint. He could’ve sworn there were actual sparkles radiating off his brother.

"Romano, that’s such a wonderful idea!" the Northern nation exclaimed. "It’s such a kind thing to do for them! They’ll wake up to a delicious breakfast without having to worry about making anything themselves, especially if they’re still tired!" he said before suddenly throwing his arms around Romano. "Ah, you’re so thoughtful and sweet, fratello!" he beamed. "Why were you even hesitant to tell me?"

Hearing that, the Southern nation felt his face grow even hotter—if that was even possible—and he immediately tried to pry Veneziano off him, desperate to salvage whatever shred of dignity he had left. "It’s not sweet!" he protested. "Or thoughtful or nice! I’m just doing it so I don’t have to look at their disgusting food and feel sick! This is totally for my own benefit!" he insisted, struggling in vain as Veneziano only tightened the hug. "Damn it, Veneziano, let go!"

Thankfully, the Northern nation finally got the message and loosened his iron grip, sparing Romano from being completely suffocated.

"Sorry, fratello!" the younger man apologized. "I'm just really happy you're finally getting along with Prussia... and Germany!" he added excitedly. "I've wanted you to be friends with them for so long. They're both really nice and this just proves that you finally see them as more than just mere acquaintances!"

Hearing that, Romano looked away and muttered, "I don’t… I told you, it’s for my sake…" even though he knew that wasn’t exactly true. He bit the inside of his cheek, wishing Veneziano would stop looking at him like he'd just made all his dreams come true. But then, something seemed to dawn upon him, and he lifted his gaze from the floor to meet his brother’s brown eyes. "Wait a second. Why did you pause when you mentioned the bastards?" he asked, his brows furrowing.

"Oh, no reason!" Veneziano said, brushing it off with a smile. Romano, however, wasn’t satisfied with that answer. He wanted to know what that pause had been about, but just as he was about to press further, the light-haired brunette suddenly started bouncing on his feet.

"I wanna help you make them! Oh, can I please, please help you make the crepes?" he asked eagerly. "It’ll be so much fun, like a sibling bonding time over cooking! It’s been so long since we’ve cooked together, especially with how busy we’ve both been lately. This will be a nice way to bring that back!"

South Italy blinked, completely forgetting what he had even wanted to ask, caught off guard by the sheer excitement radiating from his sibling. He hadn’t expected Veneziano to be so thrilled about this. And, come to think of it, his words were true. It had been so long since they had cooked together like they used to, back when neither of them was buried in work. Back then, they had fun making all kinds of dishes. Romano suddenly found himself missing those moments with his brother. This realization calmed his nerves, and he felt himself begin to relax. Why had he been so worried about saying all of this to Veneziano?

The older Italian let out a small sigh, offering a faint smile before grabbing his brother by the arm and starting to pull him toward the kitchen. "Alright, fine, we’re doing this, but I better not catch you trying to taste-test everything," he warned, releasing his grip and giving his brother a pointed look. "I know how much of a sweet tooth you have, and I don’t want to be left with no crepes because someone couldn’t control themselves!" he added, poking Veneziano in the arm. The younger Italian gave him a surprised look, though it was clearly more for show than genuine shock.

"Look who's talking!" the younger man shot back. "You act like you don’t have a huge sweet tooth, but every time I buy gelato, half of it ends up gone thanks to you!"

"That’s— that’s different!" Romano quickly retorted. "Gelato isn’t a sweet, it’s... uh, ice mashed with flavor and... sugar."

"It’s literally the same!" Veneziano argued, but Romano simply shook his head stubbornly in response. He quickly opened a cabinet and began rummaging through it, not wanting to keep fighting a losing battle.

It was true. He had a huge sweet tooth too, but how could he help it when sweets were just so delicious?

After finally finding a bowl, the Southern Italian handed it to his brother. "Here, stop arguing with me and make yourself useful and crack some eggs so we can start on the batter," he said, turning away to search for the other ingredients in the unfamiliar cabinets. "It’s almost half past ten, so those bastards could wake up any minute, and we won’t have any crepes ready! Get to work!"

Veneziano puffed out his cheeks like an annoyed child, looking as though he was ready to snap, but then he exhaled and rolled his eyes. It seemed like he’d decided that arguing wasn’t going to get them anywhere. He walked over to the fridge. "Si, si, Capitano Romano," he muttered, grabbing a carton of eggs and placing it on the counter with a flourish. He started cracking them, counting how many they needed, when a thought suddenly crossed his mind. "Hey, Romano?"

"What?" the older man asked, his frustration growing as he continued searching for the flour. "Dio, where does your idiot boyfriend keep the damn flour?!"

Veneziano wasn’t phased by his words at all and simply pointed to a different cabinet. "Try over there, that's where Germany keeps all the dry ingredients. He usually organizes everything by a specific criteria."

Romano shot him a brief side glance upon hearing that. "How weird," he muttered. Surprisingly, his words lacked the usual disdain, especially since he couldn’t help but recall Prussia's room, and how neat and organized it was. Oddly enough, he didn’t find it all that off-putting, rather, it seemed... endearing in a strange way. It was definitely not the reaction he should be having about Prussia's obsession with cleanliness.

The Northern nation seemed to sense his thoughts, quickly chiming in, "I think it’s endearing!" Romano blinked at him in surprise before shaking his head, trying to push the ridiculous thoughts out of his mind. He busied himself with searching the cabinet Veneziano had pointed to, and, as luck would have it, found the flour.

The older Italian nearly beamed at that but quickly composed himself. Beaming was more of his brother's style, not his. He grabbed the flour without hesitation, then hurried over to Veneziano, pouring it into the wet mixture.

The younger man watched for a moment before tapping Romano on the shoulder. "Anyway, I’ve been meaning to ask. What kind of crepes are we making?"

The older Italian paused mid-pour, thinking for a moment. "I was considering caramelized lemon crepes," he said, shrugging. "But if you’ve got any better ideas, feel free to share."

“No, no, that sounds perfect! I love lemon crepes! We should definitely make that!" Veneziano exclaimed, his voice tinged with determination.

Romano gave a small nod. “Good. Then it’s decided.” he closed up the flour bag with a twist and placed it on the counter.

Once the dry and wet ingredients were combined, the two brothers worked together, whisking and stirring until the batter achieved the perfect smooth consistency. With the batter prepared, Veneziano went to heat up the stove while Romano grabbed two non-stick pans and placed them on the burners. As Veneziano skillfully cooked the crepes, Romano began preparing the caramelized lemon sauce with sugar, butter, and a squeeze of fresh lemon juice.

The kitchen was quickly filled with the sweet, citrusy scent of caramelized sugar and warm crepe batter. The soft crackle of the stove and the golden aroma gave the room a comforting warmth.

Veneziano flipped a crepe with ease, then let out a quiet sigh, a gentle smile tugging at his lips. “This is nice,” he murmured. “I’ve missed this... spending time with you, doing simple things like this. We hardly ever get the chance anymore…”

Romano, gently stirring the sauce so it didn’t burn, gave a small sigh of himself. “Yeah… I've missed this too." he admitted, voice quiet.

"When we get back to Italy, we should definitely start spending more time together, even with all the work!" the Northern nation said with determination, casting a hopeful glance at his older brother. "Va bene? (Okay?)"

Romano gave a small smile at that. “Sì, va bene."

Veneziano’s face brightened at Romano’s response, and he returned to making the crepes, humming a cheerful tune. Once the crepes were finished, they plated them, drizzling the caramelized sauce over the top and sprinkling a light dusting of powdered sugar for a finishing touch. Afterward, they tossed the used dishes into the sink, quickly filling it to the brim, and moved on to wash some fresh fruit to add to the table.

Once everything was set, the table looked like a feast, and they stood back, admiring their handiwork with quiet pride. After a moment, they decided to tidy up a bit, though neither of them was willing to scrub the dishes or the counters. They both agreed that those chores were far too exhausting for them, and when Prussia and Germany eventually woke up, they could handle them.

They were putting ingredients away in the cabinets when Veneziano suddenly let out a stifled laugh

"What? Romano asked in curiosity.

The younger Italian made a show of holding back his laughter before turning to Romano. "Do you remember when we were kids, back when we were living with Austria and Spain? We had that playdate, and we got into a dumb little argument…”

Romano blinked, squinting his eyes and trying to remember what his sibling was referring to.

“And then we declared war on each other,” Veneziano continued, barely suppressing his giggles. “You took the living room, I took the hallway, and somehow we ended up knocking over that huge bookcase Austria had!”

Hearing that, Romano finally remembered and couldn’t stop the laugh that burst out of him. He brought a hand to his mouth to stifle it, but it wasn’t much use. “I completely forgot about that!” he exclaimed. “That ridiculous bookcase nearly crushed us, and Spain screamed so loud I thought someone had died!”

“He was so mad!" Veneziano wheezed between laughs. "He made us reorganize every single book by hand! And then Austria gave us a two-hour lecture on being careful and behaving properly!"

"Pfft, what a buzzkill,” Romano muttered, making his brother laugh even harder.

"You know," North Italy started, finally calming down and leaning against the counter as if he’d just finished a marathon, "I totally won that ‘war’ between us!" he said with pride.

Romano scoffed. "Yeah right. I totally wiped the floor with you, but you're too embarrassed to admit it!"

"Nuh-uh!"

"Duh-uh!"

Before Romano could continue the childish bickering, Veneziano suddenly turned toward the bag of flour on the counter.

“Wait—what are you—” the older man began, just as Veneziano plunged his hand into the bag, grabbed a fistful of flour, and flung it at him. The flour hit Romano square in the chest, leaving a white blotch across his shirt.

The Southern nation froze, staring at his sibling in complete disbelief. His eyes dropped to his designer shirt, which was now dusted with white and likely ruined beyond saving, before flicking back up to Veneziano, who simply grinned at him innocently.

"I win!" the light-haired brunette exclaimed.

At that, Romano narrowed his eyes with the slow-burning intensity of someone plotting revenge. Without a moment’s hesitation, he scooped up a handful of flour and hurled it straight at Veneziano’s face. The younger Italian flinched, his face scrunching in mild discomfort as the flour exploded into his hair, instantly dusting his soft brown curls a snowy white. Regaining his balance, Veneziano blinked in surprise, now resembling a startled snowman.

Romano let out the beginning of a smug laugh, but didn’t even get the chance to finish it, because Veneziano quickly grabbed the bag of flour and dumped half of its contents over the older man's head.

A massive cloud of flour erupted around him, coating him from head to toe in white. He coughed, waving a hand through the air in an attempt to clear the thick powder cloud as it floated around him like smoke. Frowning deeply, he turned toward his brother.

In a matter of seconds, Romano knelt down, grabbed a handful of the flour scattered on the ground, and threw it at Veneziano. Without hesitation, Veneziano did the same, and before they knew it, the situation escalated into a full-blown flour fight. They completely forgot they weren’t in their own kitchen. Flour flew through the air in clouds, dusting the countertops and covering their clothes. The room was filled with lighthearted shouts and occasional laughter.

It was chaotic, very different from the atmosphere downstairs.

.
.
.

Prussia woke up with what had to be the worst back pain of his life. He hadn’t expected one night on the couch to wreck him so badly, especially since he’d once slept in trenches and on muddy ground without a problem. Compared to that, a couch should’ve been luxury. But apparently, he had been wrong, because OW.

He must’ve gotten too used to the privilege of sleeping in a proper bed and forgotten what it was like to really live rough, to survive with nothing but your hands and sheer will. He’d have to do something about that… maybe go camping, reconnect with the wild, with the real way of living. And while he was at it, he might as well take his kid brother along. God knew that guy needed to get out of the house more often.

He reluctantly pushed himself upright, wincing as his joints cracked with the movement. The sound made him grimace, but he chose to ignore it for now. Prussia let out a wide yawn and blinked slowly, feeling like he’d just climbed out of a coffin like some half-dead vampire. He ran a hand through his messy hair, then dragged both hands down his face in a half-hearted attempt to wake himself up.

Damn. He felt both rested and completely drained at the same time. It was so weird.

Prussia let out a soft grumble before trying to get up. But as he moved, he noticed the blanket from his bed was draped over him. Blinking in confusion, he glanced at the bed—it was a mess, like a bull had trampled over it, but it was also completely empty.

"Huh..." the former nation mumbled. Romano must’ve woken up and left, but not before covering him with the blanket. At the thought, the last traces of sleep vanished from his body, and a faint smile tugged at his lips.

He already felt better than before, completely forgetting about his sore back.

With a quick motion, Prussia stood up from the couch and gave a small stretch, soaking in the feeling before grabbing the blanket and heading over to the disheveled bed. He had to admit, it honestly surprised him that a single person could mess up a bed that badly. How did Romano even sleep? Did he wrestle the sheets? Still, Prussia didn’t mind it as much as he probably should have. In fact, he found it pretty funny.

Prussia went ahead and fixed the bed, smoothing out the sheets before draping the blanket neatly over them. He picked up the pillows from the floor and arranged them back in place, making the bed look as good as new. Satisfied with his work, he gave himself a proud pat on the shoulder, then turned on his heel and headed for the bathroom. After freshening up, he checked his phone, and is jaw dropped when he saw the time.

11:03 AM.

Damn, it was late. Way too late. Prussia couldn't remember the last time he’d slept this long. It had probably been years. He hadn’t planned on it either. He was a morning person, always up before the sun. So waking up now was a total surprise. Half the day was already gone... Double damn.

Feeling like he’d been way too unproductive, the ex-nation quickly decided to go upstairs and start his day like a proper human being.

As he climbed the stairs, he found himself wondering how Romano was doing. Had the Italian slept well? He sure hoped so. Since he’d woken up so late, there was no way of knowing when Romano had gotten up or if he’d even gotten much rest at all. But Prussia chose to stay optimistic. He decided to believe that Romano had slept soundly the entire night.

He hoped his bed had been comfortable enough for the Italian...

Honestly, he hadn’t expected Romano to sleep in his room, or even to come to him last night for comfort. The brunette was still pretty guarded with him. But Prussia was genuinely glad he had come. Romano had opened up a little more about his insomnia, and even though it was a bit frustrating not getting the full picture all at once—like trying to complete a puzzle with most of the pieces still missing—Prussia was grateful that Romano trusted him enough to share anything at all.

Thinking back, it was wild to realize how far they’d come. He used to think they’d never get along, that it would always be him teasing Romano and the Italian biting his head off. But oh, how wrong he’d been. Now, things were great between them. So much better than he ever thought possible.

Maybe even too good.

At least for him.

The truth was, Prussia wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep pretending that getting closer to the older half of Italy wasn’t starting to take a toll on him. Not in a bad way though. He was all for him and Romano being friends. But not in a fully positive way either, if that made sense. The problem was that he’d been harboring feelings for Romano for a while now. I mean, how could he not? The older Italian was just so awesome, like himself. And with those feelings growing, it was becoming harder to stay composed like he should. Like yesterday, for instance, he’d almost done something really stupid. He’d almost kissed him. Like a total idiot

Prussia inwardly groaned. It had taken every ounce of his willpower back then to stop himself from leaning in and doing the unthinkable. He really hoped he hadn’t made Romano uncomfortable or that the Southern nation hadn’t noticed just how close they’d been. Maybe it wasn’t that bad. After all, closeness wasn’t uncommon in Italy, right? He couldn’t be sure, but Romano had seemed fine afterward—definitely not uncomfortable—so he figured it was probably okay. Still, Prussia had been on the verge of crossing a line. And as much as he desperately wanted to kiss Romano—God, he really did—he knew he couldn’t.

The Southern part of Italy was in no state for anything like that. He was still recovering from his terrible insomnia and slowly starting to trust Prussia, and the albino didn’t want to ruin that by letting his feelings get in the way. That would be terrible. They were friends now, and Prussia was determined on keeping it that way, honoring his promise to help Romano until the brunette had no more reason to suffer. It was the awesome thing to do. And if there was one thing Prussia prided himself on, it was being exactly that: awesome.

The thought brought a proud grin to the former nation's face. Now that he’d cleared out all those messy thoughts and settled his mind, he found himself wondering where exactly the Italian who so often occupied his thoughts was.

He really wanted to see him.

With quick steps, the former nation made his way down the hallway, glancing left and right. As he heard commotion coming from the kitchen, his smile grew, and he headed in that direction. But just as he was about to enter, he abruptly stopped in his tracks.

The kitchen was... entirely white.

Not in the clean, sparkly sense, but in the literal sense. The countertops were coated in what looked like... flour? He wasn’t entirely sure. The floor tiles, too, were covered in white, and even the walls and cabinets were dusted with the same powder. It looked as though a blizzard had swept through, covering everything in a thick layer of snow.

Prussia blinked in surprise, eyebrows lifting, before his expression shifted into confusion. What the hell happened in here? was his first thought, followed quickly by, It’s going to take days to clean this up! He definitely hadn’t scheduled a deep kitchen clean-up in his calendar, but he figured he’d better pencil it in now, because there was no way he could just leave the place in such a horrific state.

With a furrow of his brow, he considered fetching some serious cleaning supplies: highly concentrated detergent, a handful of rags, the biggest mop he could find, a broom, a bucket… Hell, maybe even a full-on water hose. This was going to be a nightmare. He didn’t mind cleaning. In fact, he liked keeping things neat and tidy, but even he had limits, and spending hours scrubbing down the kitchen was pushing it.

Shaking his head, Prussia forced himself to stop thinking about the dreaded cleaning session and focus on figuring out what had actually happened. The place looked like a smoke bomb had gone off. Just as he was about to step inside, a burst of muffled laughter echoed through the room, making him pause. His eyes swept the kitchen warily, scanning for the source of the sound. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he caught a flicker of movement behind one of the counters. Curious, the albino leaned slightly to the side for a better look. There, crouched behind the counter and completely covered in flour from head to toe, was... Romano?

What the—?

The dark-haired Italian—well, more like white-haired now with all the flour—had one hand clamped over his mouth, clearly trying to hold in laughter. Flour splotches dotted his tanned skin, and his clothes looked as if they’d been through an intense wash cycle that stripped every bit of color from them.

Prussia blinked in surprise. Well, there was the guy he’d been hoping to see, but, uh, why on earth was he completely covered in flour? And more importantly, was he the one responsible for wrecking the kitchen like this?

Tilting his head, Prussia stared, red eyes fixed on Romano. He watched as the older Italian composed himself, then suddenly sprang to his feet, grabbed a handful of flour from the counter, and flung it across the kitchen before ducking back down behind the counter.

Prussia’s gaze followed the flying projectile and landed on Veneziano, also completely coated in white, who narrowly dodged the attack and retaliated with his own burst of flour.

It took Prussia a few beats to fully process what he was seeing. When it finally clicked, all his horror at the ruined kitchen melted away, replaced by a wide grin. Leaning against the the wall, he watched in pure amusement as the Italy brothers flung flour at each other like kids in a snowball fight.

His gaze wandered for a moment before settling back on Romano. He couldn’t help but watch the man, taking in how carefree and genuinely happy he seemed. It made his chest swell. Even covered in flour, the Southern nation somehow looked cute, maybe even more so, considering how rarely he let loose like this.

Prussia let out a small sigh of regret. He really wished he’d brought his phone. He would’ve loved to snap a picture of this moment.

The albino stayed like that for a moment longer, watching the older Italian with a soft expression on his face. He was so absorbed in the moment that he didn’t hear the approaching footsteps behind him, nor did he register his brother’s voice calling his name until a hand landed on his shoulder, making him flinch slightly in surprise.

In a swift motion, the ex-nation turned around, a flicker of confusion on his face. But the moment he saw his younger brother, the tension eased, and he broke into a grin.

"Jeez, West! You nearly gave me a heart attack!” he said with a breathy laugh. “You’ve gotta stop sneaking up on people like that. Say something next time!”

"I did say something. I called your name three times,” Germany replied flatly. “You were just too lost in your own world to hear."

"Ah...” Prussia muttered, then gave a casual shrug. “Well, you should’ve been louder!” he declared, reaching out to ruffle the younger German’s hair.

Germany immediately recoiled, scowling as he tried to smooth his newly tousled hair. "Cut it out."

The former nation only grinned wider at that. "Didn’t think I’d ever catch you waking up this late, West. What happened, sleep through your alarm?" he asked, then snapped his fingers as if a realization hit him. "Wait, were you and little Italy up all night getting it on? That's why you're up so late? Damn, now that's one way to wear yourself out."

Germany’s eyes widened in shock. "What the hell, Prussia?! Gott, no!" he sputtered. "What kind of assumption even is that?!"

"Uh, the kind that usually applies to most couples." the older German replied, clearly amused by his brother’s reaction.

Germany was momentarily speechless, clearly thrown off by how much of a point Prussia had made. However, he quickly regained his composure, frowning. "You’re right, but just so we’re clear, I didn’t 'get it on' with Italy, as you so eloquently put it. I spent my night working. Something you should have been doing too, especially since it involved the eastern part of our country, and last time I checked, you were the one in charge of that!"

"Huh? Wait, what happened?" Prussia asked, frowning slightly, a hint of concern in his voice. That wasn’t the response he’d been expecting from Germany.

The blue-eyed man rubbed his temples, letting out a sigh. "Nothing too serious. There was a sudden dip in the economy, but I handled it. Everything’s fine now." he explained, then shot his brother a sharp glare. "But I could’ve used some help."

"Right..."

"What were you even doing? I sent you a ton of messages, but you didn’t bother to check any of them. And don’t say you were asleep! I know for a fact you stay up late." Germany said, crossing his arms.

At that, Prussia glanced away, avoiding his brother’s gaze, a hint of guilt creeping in. He didn’t like leaving all the work to his younger sibling, especially since the guy had a tendency to bury himself in it. But, in his defense, he honestly hadn’t seen the messages. He’d been too caught up with Romano, talking to him and focusing on him to notice anything else. He didn’t want to neglect his brother, but for him, Romano was more important than work.

"Sorry about that, West, but I..." Prussia’s voice faltered as he hesitated, unsure whether to explain himself. After a moment of thought, he decided that it was better to be honest with his brother and clear up the misunderstanding. "I was with Romano last night." he confessed.

At his words, the younger German’s expression shifted to one of shock. "You... stayed with Romano?" he asked, clearly skeptical, as if he couldn’t quite believe it.

"Yeah. He couldn’t sleep, so the awesome me kept him company until he finally managed to doze off!" the albino replied, nodding proudly with a grin.

"Oh..." Germany breathed out, looking unsure of how to respond. "And is he... alright?"

"Yup! Better than ever!"

The blonde hesitated, thinking over the older man's words before letting out a sigh. "I guess it’s fine, then. Yeah... it's fine. Sorry, I shouldn't have accused you of ignoring your responsibilities on purpose. That was wrong of me."

"Nah, you're good, don't stress yourself over this, it's not like you could've known what I was up to." Prussia said with a casual wave of his hand, then added almost as an afterthought, "But hey, if problems like this come up again, just come to me, okay? I’d rather not see you pass out from overworking."

"That won't happen." Germany replied with an eye roll, then glanced back at his older brother. "But... thanks. I will."

Hearing that, the white-haired German smiled and gave his brother a firm pat on the back, earning a low, annoyed grumble from the blonde.

Once everything had settled, Germany spoke up again. "By the way, Bruder, why are you just standing around? Don’t you want to head to the kitchen? I could really use some food, and definitely some coffee, and I’m pretty sure you could too."

"Well, uh… there’s one small problem..." the former nation began, his words trailing off as he struggled to figure out how to break the news that their kitchen was, quite literally, destroyed, preferably without sending Germany into a full blown panic. Unfortunately, he was a bit too slow, as Germany raised an eyebrow and simply stepped around him to glance into the kitchen.

"West, wait! Don’t freak out, okay?" Prussia called out, trying to stop his brother before he saw the disaster in the kitchen. But he was a second too late. Germany was already staring at the wreckage, his face drained of color to the point he could have passed for Prussia’s twin.

"West, it’s not that bad... um, it’s just flour, it can be cleaned up with water." the older man said, trying to reassure his sibling and ease the flood of worries he could see racing through the blonde's mind.

Germany, however, didn’t seem to register his words. He appeared just as stunned as before, maybe even more so. He turned to look at Prussia, his mouth hanging open, then gestured toward the kitchen, shifting his eyes back and forth between the former nation and the mess, but said nothing, clearly too shocked to find the words.

"I know it looks bad, but—"

"WHAT HAPPENED IN HERE?!" Germany burst out, finally finding his voice, and nearly making Prussia go deaf with how loud it was. "THIS—THIS PLACE IS A MESS!"

The albino winced slightly at the volume of Germany's voice, then sighed and raised his hands in surrender. "I'm aware, but—"

"WHAT IN THE WORLD COULD’VE POSSIBLY—" the younger German began shouting again, but this time Prussia had had enough of being interrupted and yelled at. He cut his brother off mid-rant, both to give him a taste of his own medicine and to finally get his attention.

"WEST!" he shouted, grabbing his younger brother firmly by the forearms, then lowering his voice to a sharp hiss. "Calm down! You're blowing out my eardrums!"

The blue-eyed man blinked at him, clearly taken aback, before his expression twisted into sheer disbelief. "Calm down?" he echoed, as if the words themselves were absurd. "You want me to calm down when our kitchen—not just mine, but yours too—the place where we cook, eat, and get the energy to function, looks like it was blasted with a phosphorus bomb and turned completely white?!" he demanded, still in disbelief, though at least now trying to keep his voice down. "Hörst du dir selbst zu, Bruder? (Are you hearing yourself, brother?!)"

Prussia let out a sigh. As much as he wanted to argue, he couldn’t really blame his brother. He’d been just as stunned at first. Instead of pushing the conversation further, he gently turned Germany around and pointed toward a spot in the kitchen where Romano and Veneziano now sat side by side, their backs against the counter, smiling and chatting quietly as they caught their breath.

"Look." the albino said.

Germany cast a sideways glance at the older man before shifting his attention to what Prussia was pointing at. His brows knit together briefly, then his expression softened and the tension in his shoulders melted away. "Oh," he murmured quietly.

"Yeah," Prussia replied, releasing his sibling and returning to his spot against the wall.

He caught the way his brother's gaze moved between the Italian brothers before finally resting on his lover. A faint smile played at his lips. "They seem happy..."

"Yup. That’s why you shouldn’t be upset," the former nation said. "After everything that's happened, it’s nice to see them smiling and happy, even if it comes at the cost of our kitchen."

Germany let out a soft hum of agreement. "I have to agree with you, Bruder," he said, then added, "Though I’m still a bit puzzled... how did they manage to get flour everywhere...?"

"I'm not really sure, when I came up, they were already throwing flour at each other," Prussia said with a shrug, then let out a breathy laugh. "Messy... but honestly, kind of cute."

"Huh... I suppose."

They stood in silence for a moment. Germany watching Veneziano, while Prussia's eyes slowly wandered to Romano. It wasn’t long before Germany noticed the shift in his brother’s gaze.

"Bruder, I need to ask you something," the blonde began, earning a faint nod from the older Germanic nation. Though it was clear he wasn’t really paying attention. "Are you and Romano... friends now?" Germany pressed on. When Prussia didn’t answer right away, he gave him a light nudge. "I can’t help but wonder, especially since you’ve been eyeing him like that for a while now."

That seemed to snap the albino out of his trance. "Huh? What? Who’s eyeing who?" he asked, clearly disoriented.

The blue-eyed man rolled his eyes. "You. Romano."

Hearing that, the former nation waved a dismissive hand. "Pshh, big deal. It’s not like your eyes aren’t glued to little Italy. Talk about being a hypocrite."

"Yes, glued to my boyfriend." Germany retorted.

"Well, my eyes are glued to my friend who just so happens to be a boy. What’s your point?" Prussia shot back, crossing his arms defensively, causing the younger German to sigh.

"You are one piece of work." he muttered, earning a frown from Prussia.

"Hey, you're part of my awesome blood, so if you’re insulting me, you're insulting yourself!"

"Whatever," Germany said, brushing off his brother’s words. "At least you answered my question."

At that, the ex-nation raised an eyebrow. "What question?"

"Not important," the younger German replied with a dismissive wave. "Just don’t do anything stupid, okay?"

"What?" Prussia asked in confusion, but didn’t get an answer as Germany walked away, heading toward the kitchen, leaving him standing there like a confused idiot. "West, what the fuck?" the Prussian exclaimed, furrowing his brows. He sighed and dragged a hand down his face, his words muffled. "What’s wrong with this kid?" he muttered to himself before shaking his head and deciding to drop the subject

With a loud inhale, he entered the kitchen and followed his sibling. They approached the Italians, who, upon seeing them, quickly jumped to their feet with wide eyes.

"Ah! Germany!" North Italy exclaimed, hands pressed to his cheeks in slight panic. "This isn’t what it looks like!" he shook his head, then paused, fidgeting with his hands. "Okay... it actually is what it looks like, but in my defense... um..." he trailed off, looking unsure of what to say next before suddenly pointing at Romano. "He started it!"

"WHAT?!" the Southern nation exclaimed, staring at his sibling in shock. "Don’t put the blame on me! You’re the one who hit me with flour first! I only hit you back in self-defense!" he gestured toward Veneziano. "If anyone’s to blame for this mess, it’s you, idiot!"

"Well... uh..." Veneziano stumbled over his words, looking a bit panicked, before grabbing Romano by the arm and on tugging it. "We're both to blame, fratello! Let's just own up to our actions like honest people!"

"No! Let go of my arm, damn it!" the older Italian hissed, trying to yank his arm away from his younger brother.

"Fratellooo!" Veneziano whined, then, as a last resort, darted behind Romano and clung to him.

"Veneziano...!" the older Italian hissed, glaring at his sibling as he tried to shake him off. As usual, he failed. Veneziano somehow had a grip like a vice, unmatched by anyone or anything.

"Germany, please don’t be mad!" the Northern nation pleaded from behind Romano, who was gritting his teeth in frustration over the whole situation. "We didn’t mean to wreck your kitchen! We just got into a little friendly fight and... kinda forgot this wasn’t our house, it was yours, and um... Romano, stop moving! I don’t want to get yelled at!"

"And you think I want to?!" the older Italian snapped, now wearing a full-on scowl.

Before things could escalate further, Germany cleared his throat to get the attention of the bickering Italians. They both turned to him with raised eyebrows.

"No one's getting yelled at," the younger German said calmly. "And I’m not mad, just..." he paused, surveying the kitchen with a faint grimace. The usually spotless space was now a complete disaster. Before he could dwell on it, Prussia gave him a light nudge, causing him to quickly shake off the expression. "Surprised," he finished abruptly, then repeated, "I’m not mad, just surprised."

Hearing that, both halves of Italy seemed to relax. Veneziano promptly detached himself from his brother and cheerfully grabbed Germany’s hand, smearing it with flour in the process.

"Yay! I'm so relieved you’re not mad at me, or my fratello!" the light-haired brunette beamed. "I thought you were going to go into full angry mode on us, but you’re so understanding, Germany!" he continued, before wrapping Germany in a tight hug. The Germanic nation tried to protest, not wanting his clothes to end up covered in flour like Italy's, but it was too late. With a resigned sigh, he gave in and hugged his lover back, a fond smile tugging at his lips.

Prussia had to stifle a laugh at that before walking over to Romano and grinning at him. "Hey, never thought I'd see you with dyed hair. Got tired of being a brunette?" he joked, gesturing to Romano's brown hair, now covered in white.

At his words, the Southern nation’s cheeks flushed pink, and it seemed to finally dawn on him that he was covered in flour.

"Shut up..." he mumbled, crossing his arms and turning his gaze away with a slight pout.

At his reaction, the albino chuckled before poking him in the cheek with amusement. "Are you pouting?" he asked, grinning. "You can’t be that upset over what I said! Hey, look at it this way, now you match with me, which means you're twice as awesome as before! But I’ve got to admit, white totally looks way better on you haha!"

At that, Romano slapped his hand away, his face flushing an even deeper shade of red as he turned away, burying his face in his hands. “Oh mio dio, stai zitto... (Oh my God, shut up...),” he mumbled through his fingers, looking like he was on the verge of passing out from sheer embarrassment, which only made the older German even more amused.

He stepped around the Italian, coming to stand in front of him, and gently poked at the hands covering his face. “Hey, older Italy—” he began, but before he could finish, Romano abruptly lowered his hands, turned away, and rested one hand on the counter beside him. He slowly dragged his fingers through a small pile of flour left on the surface. Prussia blinked, slightly thrown off by the sudden change in mood, especially as the Italian turned back to him, now standing noticeably closer than before.

“Uh…” The albino’s grin wavered for a moment, caught off guard by the sudden closeness. His words momentarily escaped him as Romano lifted a flour-covered hand to his mouth, as if preparing to blow a kiss. But before the former nation could make sense of the gesture, the Italian blew the puff of flour straight into his face.

"Ack—!” He staggered back, coughing as the white powder clouded his vision. His hands flew to his face, swiping at the flour with a mix of shock and confusion. Once his eyes finally cleared, he was met with the sight of Romano biting the inside of his cheek, lips twitching as he fought to keep himself from bursting into laughter.

"You—” Prussia pointed at him, though he wasn’t quite sure what to say, stuck between being flustered and surprised. “That was—” But before he could finish the sentence or come up with a decent retort, his brother’s voice cut in, interrupting him.

"…What even made you two... do all this?” Germany asked, casually brushing off his clothes, which were now stained white from Veneziano.

"Oh, well, we wanted to make you breakfast! And we did actually make breakfast!” Veneziano said cheerfully, gesturing to the kitchen table, which, miraculously, was untouched and free of flour, with the crepes neatly arranged. “We made crepes!” he exclaimed, causing both Germans to turn and look at the table. Then, quickly adding, “It was all Romano’s idea, though, so he deserves all the praise!”

At that, the Southern nation quickly shook his head. “That’s not true! I just, uh…” he gestured vaguely with one flour-covered hand, his mouth opening and closing as if waiting for words to magically appear. They didn’t. “I just said we had eggs and flour and—”

"Ah, Fratello, you're far too modest for your own good!" the younger Italian said, placing a hand on his heart as if he had just been moved by a profound moment.

Germany blinked once, and then, somewhat stiffly, gave a small nod. “Thank you, Romano. That was… thoughtful.” Then, he looked at Veneziano and added more gently, “And thank you as well, Italy.”

Before either could respond, Prussia suddenly sprang to life as if a switch had been flipped. He closed the distance between him and the older Italian in an instant, and this time, it was him who leaned in far too close to Romano’s personal space.

“You cooked for the awesome me?” he asked, jabbing a thumb toward himself with a wide, toothy grin.

Romano jumped like someone had fired a gun behind him. “Wh-what?! No—I mean, yes—but I—uh—”

"You’ve never cooked for me before!” Prussia exclaimed, his crimson eyes practically sparkling.

Romano’s mouth opened as his hands flailed in frustration. “Well, this—this isn’t... I just wanted to—” he stammered. “It’s just...” he tried again, then groaned and gave the floor a frustrated kick, as if angry at himself for not being able to form a proper sentence. His expression tightened, he clenched his fists and looked down, a faint scowl tugging at his features.

“Fine, yes, I cooked for you, damn it,” he muttered, voice lower now. “But don’t make a big deal out of it...”

Upon hearing those words, the albino’s grin widened with delight. He stepped back, placing a hand dramatically over his chest and tilting his head with exaggerated sincerity. “I’m genuinely touched, South,” he said, voice light with amusement. Then, with sudden energy, he threw a fist triumphantly into the air like he’d just won a grand prize. “This is probably gonna be the best damn thing I’ve ever eaten in my life!”

Romano’s head snapped up, eyes widening slightly in surprise. He blinked, then quickly looked away with a huff, muttering something in Italian under his breath.

Prussia watched him, and his grin softened. His chest gave a small flutter. Damn, it was getting harder not to just pull the guy into a bear hug when he acted like this.

Romano must’ve felt the intensity of his stare, because he suddenly cleared his throat and flailed a hand toward the table. “J-just eat already and stop staring at me like that!” he barked, then turned sharply to Veneziano. "Me and my idiot brother need to go clean ourselves off before we cover the rest of the house in flour! Bye!"

Not giving anyone a chance to respond, he grabbed Veneziano by the wrist and hauled him out of the kitchen, heading straight for the stairs.

“Leave us some crepes toooo!” Veneziano called cheerfully over his shoulder, grinning as the two of them disappeared up the steps.

For a few moments, silence filled the kitchen again.

Then, with absolutely zero hesitation, Prussia practically launched himself into a chair by the table, nearly knocking it over in the process. He grabbed a fork, stabbed a crepe like it had personally wronged him, and took a massive bite.

"Ohmph myh Godh,” he groaned mid-chew, his face one of complete bliss.

Germany raised a single unimpressed eyebrow at the display.

The former nation swallowed, then slammed his hand against the table like a judge, causing the cutlery and mugs to rattle. “This is so freaking good!” he shouted, flailing the fork in the air before pointing it at his brother. “West! You have to try this! It’s like eating edible gold straight from Saint Peter’s personal pantry!”

Germany rolled his eyes but took a seat across from him anyway. He picked up his own fork and knife, cutting a piece of crepe with much more refinement than his brother. He took a bite, chewed thoughtfully, and gave a small, approving nod.

“Hm,” he hummed. “It really is good.”

"What did I tell you!" the albino exclaimed, already digging into his next crepe. "This stuff’s freaking divine!"

He was genuinely amazed that Romano had taken the time to cook for him. Until now, he’d only ever tasted Italy’s cooking. The Northern nation’s food was undeniably delicious, but he had to admit Romano’s was just as good. He found himself curious about what Romano’s traditional Southern Italian recipes might taste like. Just the thought made his mouth water. He’d definitely have to convince Romano to cook for him again sometime. Yeah… that would be nice.

It wasn’t long before the Italians returned, now free of flour and dressed in fresh clothes. They took their seats at the table, and to Prussia’s surprise, though he definitely wasn’t complaining, Romano took the seat right next to him. Veneziano, as expected, happily plopped down beside Germany. The two Italians helped themselves to some crepes as well.

Prussia, however, found it hard to focus on his food. He kept catching the older Italian sneaking glances at him, barely subtle, but frequent enough to make him wonder. Was something wrong? Had he said something weird earlier? The longer it went on, the more it nagged at him. Just as he was starting to second-guess everything, Romano finally spoke, breaking the silence between them.

"So, do you like them…?” the dark-haired brunette asked, tapping his fingers nervously against the table.

At the question, Prussia’s confusion vanished and he nodded enthusiastically. “Hell yeah!” he exclaimed loudly. “Like I said before, the best thing I’ve ever had!” he declared proudly.

Romano gave a small nod and looked off to the side, his expression quietly content.

"I don’t know how you guys do it, but you've got hands of gold." Prussia added.

"Cooking is easy!" Veneziano suddenly piped up. "You just need to mix the right ingredients to create something delicious!" he said cheerfully, though his smile wavered a little as he glanced at Prussia. "But, um, I wouldn’t really recommend it to just anyone… you kinda need a good sense of taste to make dishes come out perfectly!"

"Did you seriously just say I shouldn't cook because I have terrible taste?" the albino asked, feigning offense with exaggerated disbelief. He didn’t actually care all that much, but he loved playing things up.

"No!” North Italy exclaimed, shaking his head before giving a small shrug. “I just said I wouldn’t recommend it to anyone, not you specifically! I never even mentioned your name!” he added, glancing off to the side before casting a quick look at him.

"Right, but you implied it,” Prussia snorted, earning a sheepish smile from the younger Italian in response. “You don’t even look sorry. West, back me up here! Defend your older brother, will you?” he said, gesturing toward Germany, who simply gave him a disinterested look before going back to eating, completely ignoring the comment, as usual when it involved Italy.

“Man, you like little Italy way too much for your own good,” Prussia added with a mock-disapproving shake of his head, prompting a slight frown from Germany and a laugh from Italy.

With a dramatic sigh, the ex-nation turned to Romano. “Roma, are you at least on my side?” he asked, still smiling playfully.

Romano looked at him, then at the others, as if weighing his options. After a moment’s pause, he gave a barely noticeable nod.

For some reason, that small gesture made the former nation’s heart give a slight squeeze. He’d fully expected a sarcastic remark or a flat-out no in response to his obviously joking question—not an actual yes. It wasn’t often that people took his side, even jokingly.

“Ah,” he whispered, caught off guard and briefly speechless. Then he cleared his throat and broke into a bright, but slightly flustered, grin. “How awesome!”

The four of them finished eating, chatting between bites, which was a welcome change from the tense and awkward atmosphere just days earlier when they had last dined together. Once they were done, Germany stood up and began stacking the plates to take them to the sink.

"We should probably start cleaning this place up,” he said, carrying the dishes to the sink. When he saw the pile already waiting there, he sighed, then returned to grab the mugs he hadn’t been able to carry the first time. "It’s already half past one, and if we don’t start cleaning this mess now, we won’t be done before sundown.”

At his words, Italy looked as if he’d just been sentenced to death. His expression briefly twisted into one of mild dread, but then, just as quickly, his face lit up. He straightened abruptly and placed his hands on the table, his posture suddenly serious, as if preparing to pitch a business proposal.

"Ah, yes, um, about that, Germany..." he began, his tone immediately giving away that whatever he was about to say, Germany probably wasn’t going to like it. "I actually promised mio fratello that I’d go downtown with him... you know, to the big cathedral in Lustgarten Park? Because he still hasn’t seen all of Germany!"

His words earned a confused look from Romano, the excuse clearly a flimsy attempt to get out of cleaning. But before he could continue, Germany cut him off.

"You're not getting out of cleaning." the blonde said firmly, prompting the younger Italian to shoot him an exaggeratedly surprised look.

"Germany! That's so mean!" the Northern nation exclaimed. “I’m not trying to get out of cleaning, actually, I’d love to help. But you see, I can’t break a promise I made to Romano!” he said with too much enthusiasm. “Sono un uomo di parola!” (I am a man of my word!) he declared, then turned to to the Southern half of Italy, gesturing toward him as if seeking backup. “Right, fratello?”

"Uh…” Romano stammered, clearly confused. Seeing this, Veneziano mouthed a very obvious and suspicious “Di’ di sì!”(Say yes!) to him. The older man blinked for a moment before finally replying, “Right." and nodding.

At that, Veneziano faced Germany with a determined look. “See?” he said. “Romano knows exactly what I mean!”

The blonde raised an eyebrow, then carried the remaining dishes to the sink. When he returned, he crossed his arms and said flatly, “That place will still be open tomorrow, so you can go then."

Hearing that, the light-haired brunette simply shook his head. "No, it’s not the same! It has to be today, because it’s a Sunday!” he burst out, then quickly turned to the Southern nation. “Tell him, Romano, come on, tell him!”

The older Italian furrowed his brows slightly, as though still struggling to grasp the situation, before glancing awkwardly at Germany and offering a shrug. “Sì, uh… what mio fratello said…” he muttered, running a hand through his hair, the same hand that was still wrapped in bandages. Germany’s gaze flicked briefly to it, then back to Romano’s face, his expression tightening for a moment in the faintest wince before he let out a quiet sigh.

“Fine,” the younger German said at last. “You two can go. But only if you help with the rest of the cleaning when you get back.”

Veneziano lit up like a Christmas tree. “Grazie, Germany! Sei il migliore! (You are the best!)" he chirped, hopping up from his chair and practically skipping over to his brother.

Romano, still sitting, looked up at him and raised an eyebrow. “Stai davvero facendo tutto questo solo per non dover pulire? Ti rendi conto che tutto questo casino è colpa nostra, vero...? (Are you seriously doing all of this just so you don't have to clean? You do realize this whole mess is our fault, right...?)"

"Sì, lo so, ma a mia discolpa pulire fa schifo, e ne facevo già abbastanza quando ero più piccola, quindi datemi tregua! E non fate finta di voler davvero pulire. Sto facendo un enorme favore a entrambi! (Yes, I know, but in my defense cleaning sucks, and I did more than enough of it when I was younger, so cut me some slack! And don’t act like you actually want to clean. I’m doing both of us a huge favor!)" said the Northern nation.

"Eh, vero. (Eh, true.)" Romano responded.

"Forza, prima che la Germania cambi idea! (Now come on, before Germany changes his mind!)” the younger Italian exclaimed, grabbing his brother’s hand and practically pulling him out of the kitchen.

"Va bene, va bene, ma smettila di tirarmi il braccio, accidenti! Posso camminare da sola! (Alright, alright, but stop tugging my arm, damn it! I can walk by myself!)" Romano hissed, his voice trailing off as they left the room.

The kitchen fell silent for a moment before Prussia spoke. "Wow, did that actually just happen?" he asked, glancing over at his younger brother, who responded by running a hand down his face.

"Shut up." he muttered. "I felt bad."

Prussia raised an eyebrow in confusion, not quite grasping what his younger brother meant until the realization dawned on him. "Ohh, you mean because you—" he began, but a sharp glare from Germany cut him off mid-sentence. Right. No need to rub salt in the wound. “Sorry,” he said quietly, rising to his feet and giving the blonde a gentle pat on the back. “Don’t beat yourself up over it, West. I know you didn’t mean any harm.”

The German muttered something under his breath, too quiet to catch, but the tension in his shoulders eased, and the edge in his expression softened. “Thanks…” he said in a low voice, almost like the word was difficult to get out. He drew in a sharp breath, held it for a moment, then exhaled slowly as if trying to collect himself. Straightening his posture, he nodded with renewed determination. “Alright. Let’s get to work.”

Prussia gave a mock salute like a soldier before heading off to grab the cleaning supplies. This was going to be a long day.

Chapter Text

As expected, Prussia and his brother spent most of the day, or at least what remained of it since it was already nearing noon, trying to restore their disaster of a kitchen back to normal. They scrubbed and wiped down every counter and object with such great care, determined not to leave even a single grain of flour behind, that it looked less like they were cleaning a kitchen and more like they were erasing evidence from a crime scene.

It was honestly baffling how much of a mess the two Italians had managed to create with a single bag of flour... one that was barely even a kilogram’s worth. The kitchen looked as if not one, but a hundred kilograms of flour had exploded inside it. Which, logically, made no sense. But then again, logic never seemed to be something the Italians followed… or perhaps it just refused to stick to them. That too was a possibility. Either way, one thing was certain: Romano and Veneziano had a talent for creating mayhem that went far beyond reason.

Flour had ended up in places it had absolutely no business being, like inside the blender, which, mind you, had been safely stored in a closed cabinet. How had it gotten in there? It was a mystery Prussia couldn’t wrap his head around, and one he doubted he’d ever solve.

Anyway, moving on. Prussia couldn’t remember the last time he’d scrubbed anything so hard. He was pretty sure his brother hadn’t either. They cleaned like their lives depended on it, using every cleaning product they could find. By the time they were done, Prussia’s hands were so red and calloused, it looked like he’d spent hours punching a wall instead of wielding a broom and scrubbing counters. So yeah… it was bad.

The two Germans were so exhausted that they dropped onto the couch the second the cleaning was done, too tired to even lift a finger. Still, Prussia had to admit that it was worth it. At least now, the kitchen no longer made him want to tear his hair out. It was clean, organized, and exactly the way it was supposed to be. That said, he could also admit it would’ve been a lot easier if a certain pair of Italians, whose names he was definitely not going to mention (cough, cough: Romano and Veneziano), had bothered to lend a hand. But no, they’d run off, probably enjoying themselves somewhere while he and Germany had slaved away for hours. How cruel!

However, it was also well known that the two Italians weren’t exactly the tidiest people, so in hindsight, it was probably for the best that they’d left. God only knew what additional mess they might’ve made if they’d stayed. Besides, they had made breakfast, and Prussia figured that was a decent enough excuse for skipping out on the cleaning. After all, food was fuel, and fuel kept them going. So… yeah, he supposed it was fair enough.

The former nation was scrolling through his phone, aimlessly looking at whatever random things his feed decided to throw at him that day. One hand was tucked behind his back, and a leg was lazily propped up on the coffee table, while Germany sat beside him, hunched over his laptop, doing some kind of research. On what, Prussia had no idea, but it was obvious the guy was deep into some internet rabbit hole. Honestly, that kid really needed to learn how to chill.

Anyway, like I was saying, Prussia was busy scrolling through his phone when the front door suddenly slammed open, and both halves of Italy burst in, talking over each other in loud, rapid-fire Italian. They were so animated and loud, it felt an entire party had crashed into the house instead of two people.

At the sound of their grand entrance, Prussia put down his phone and lazily waved a hand in their direction to catch their attention.

"Well, look who finally decided to show up," he called out, earning surprised glances from the pair. "What took you so long? Don’t tell me you got lost or something."

At his words, the younger Italian offered a small wave of his own, then simply shook his head in response. He quickly shrugged off his coat and draped it over a chair before approaching the two Germans, a slight frown on his face.

"First of all, how can you even suggest we got lost? That’s very rude of you, especially since I know that you know that I know this country like the back of my hand," he said, lifting a hand for emphasis, then paused, lifting the other as well. "No—like the back of both my hands!" he corrected proudly, pointing at himself with a big grin. "I’ve been here so many times, it’s basically my second home!"

Prussia rolled his eyes, amused by the Italian's reaction.

"Anyway," Veneziano continued, trying to stay on track, "now that that’s settled—second thing’s second," he added, putting his hands behind his back and blowing at his bangs. "Sorry for coming back so late. Me and mio fratello got distracted by all the pretty architecture around Lustgarten Park and kinda... lost track of time," he admitted with an awkward laugh, shifting from foot to foot. Then his gaze drifted around the room before settling back on Prussia. "Wait, did you and Germany finish cleaning?" he asked, then added brightly without waiting for a response. "If not, I can totally help!" he offered cheerfully.

Prussia snorted, sitting up a bit straighter. "A little late for that, little Italy," he said with a grin. "We finished ages ago."

"Ohhhh..." the Northern nation said, drawing out the sound, his amber eyes gleaming with fake sadness. "What a shame, I really would've loved to help..."

"Get outta here!" the red-eyed man scoffed, flicking his hand in a playful shooing motion toward the younger Italian, who responded with a soft laugh.

"Well, if everything's already taken care of, then let me tell you what happened to Romano and me while we were out!" Veneziano exclaimed, clapping his hands together with excitement. His energy caught Germany’s attention, drawing his gaze away from the laptop. "You won’t believe it!" he added dramatically, only for his smile to fade slightly as he looked toward the couch. "But first… could you, um…" he trailed off, glancing between Prussia and Germany with a touch of urgency in his eyes.

At that, both Germans looked at the Northern nation with confused expressions, prompting Veneziano to puff out his cheeks in mild frustration. Without saying another word, he stepped forward and attempted to push Prussia away from Germany—emphasis on attempt—in an effort to put some space between them.

"Uh, what are you doing little Italy?" the albino asked, his voice laced with confusion.

"Could you please move a little to the side?" Veneziano asked, a hint of irritation creeping into his voice at the ex-nation's refusal to budge. "I want to sit next to Germany!" he added, putting a bit more force behind his shove.

"Hey, ow! Little Italy, you're gonna break my arm if you keep this up!" Prussia exclaimed, frowning at the light-haired brunette’s persistence. "There's literally a spot on West's other side, just go sit there!"

"But I want to sit here!" Veneziano whined, squeezing his eyes shut as he strained to push the white-haired man out of his spot beside Germany. Unfortunately, Prussia held his ground, resisting, though there wasn’t much force to resist in the first place.

With a defeated pout, Italy pulled back, fists clenched at his sides, and turned pleadingly to his lover. "Germany, Prussia won’t move!"

At his words, the blue-eyed man calmly closed his laptop and set it down on the coffee table, then turned back to his boyfriend with a patient expression. “Don’t you want to sit here?” he asked gently, gesturing to the empty spot beside him on the other side. “There’s no difference between sitting on the left or the right side of the couch." he added, trying to reason with him.

Hearing that, Prussia grinned victoriously, which only made the younger Italian’s pout deepen.

"But Germanyyy..." Veneziano whined, turning back to Prussia with a frown. "Prussia, you—you—" he started to say, but couldn’t finish his sentence because Romano, who, to the the former nation's surprise, had actually taken the time to hang his coat properly on the rack instead of tossing it somewhere, came up besides Veneziano and gave him a light smack to the arm.

"Stop tormenting him." the older Italian said, shooting his little brother a sharp glare.

Veneziano blinked in surprise, then quickly rubbed the spot where Romano had struck him. "Ow, fratello! That hurt!"

"Duh, it was supposed to." the Southern nation replied, rolling his eyes at his sibling’s over-the-top reaction.

"You're supposed to be on my side!" Veneziano exclaimed.

"I am, just not when it comes to something as stupid as this." Romano replied, poking the younger man in the arm and getting a slight shove in return.

"It's not stupid, it's called having a preference!" Veneziano argued.

"Yeah, whatever. Just sit down already and stop trying to cause trouble." the older Italian said with a scoff, then grabbed his brother’s shoulders and firmly pulled him down onto the coffee table, causing Veneziano to let out a small yelp.

"Fratello!” the Northern nation whined, but Romano didn’t stick around to listen. He simply turned around and walked over to the small dresser by the entrance, where a paper bag—one that hadn’t been there before the two Italians arrived—rested.

The Southern nation took the bag, walked over to the kitchen table, and set it down. He then pulled out a chair for himself, sat down, and pulled out his phone to check his messages.

Prussia’s red eyes followed the older Italian, and suddenly, he didn’t feel like arguing with Veneziano over the couch spot anymore. Without a word, he stood up and tapped Veneziano on the shoulder, earning a puzzled glance in return.

"You can have the seat, little Italy." the albino said as he turned and began to walk away.

The Northern nation blinked at him, then lit up with joy and quickly sprang to his feet, settling beside Germany and leaning into him with a content smile. Germany returned the smile and opened his mouth to say something, but before he could speak, Veneziano suddenly perked up again.

"Hey, hold on a second!” the younger Italian called out, pointing toward the albino. “Don’t you want to hear the super interesting thing that happened to me and Romano while we were out?”

At his words, Prussia simply waved a dismissive hand, ignoring him as he made his way over to the table where Romano was seated.

Veneziano stared at the former nation with a raised eyebrow before a small smile crept across his face, as if he’d just realized something. He let out a soft sigh, then turned to face his lover with a wide grin. "Well, since Prussia’s busy, I guess I’ll talk to you, Germany!" he said cheerfully, planting a quick kiss on the blonde’s lips and earning a smile in return.

Prussia quietly approached the Southern nation, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. He raised his hands like a scare actor, ready to give Romano the fright of his life. But just as he leaned in to startle him, Romano looked up from his phone and blinked at him in confusion.

"Huh? What are you doing?” he asked, setting his phone down.

Prussia froze mid-step, his eyes darting sideways awkwardly before settling back on Romano. He swallowed nervously, then cracked a crooked, sheepish grin, lowering one hand while rubbing the back of his neck with the other. “I was gonna scare the crap out of you,” he admitted with a chuckle. “But damn, you’re way too alert.”

Romano let out a soft huff and shook his head in mock disapproval, though Prussia caught the smile playing on his lips.

The former nation pulled out the chair beside him and sat down, leaning forward with his head resting on his hand. “So… what are you up to?”

Romano shrugged lightly in response. “Nothing much, just checking a few things...” he said, nodding toward his phone. He glanced away briefly, as if lost in thought, then met the albino’s eyes again. His expression grew a bit uncertain. "I… I’m sorry for ditching you and your brother earlier. I hope you’re not upset about that...” he added, his voice trailing off as a small frown formed on his face.

Prussia perked up at that and quickly waved a hand as if brushing off the concern. “What? No way! Getting upset over something like that would be totally un-awesome!” he exclaimed. “You don’t need to worry! Me and West handled everything like the super awesome people we are!” he jabbed a thumb toward his chest with exaggerated pride, flashing his trademark grin. “We’re pros at organizing stuff, especially me!"

At that, the frown on Romano’s face softened, and he rolled his eyes. "Right. Of course you are. I forgot I was talking to a germaphobe here."

"Not a germaphobe! I just like keeping things neat and tidy, there's a difference!"

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever floats your boat." the Italian said.

Still smiling, the former nation scooted his chair a bit closer to Romano and gave him a light nudge with his elbow. “So… what did you and little Italy do while you were out? Did you guys have fun?”

Romano paused to think, then gave a slow nod. “Yeah, it was nice. We visited the Berlin Cathedral for a while, then just wandered around... Some parts of this country actually have really beautiful architecture,” he said, his tone softer. “Not just those ugly, blocky buildings that don’t match anything and make my eyes hurt." he muttered under his breath before a faint smile formed on his face. "We also stopped by a clothing store and tried on a few things. Veneziano found this shirt that looked like it came straight out of an 80s collection. He tried it on because it looked good, and, well, nice clothes are meant to be worn—"

As Romano spoke, Prussia shifted slightly, settling more comfortably into his seat. He really liked listening to him talk, especially when Romano talked about something that made him happy... made him smile like he was smiling now. There was something about the way his face lit up, the way his eyes sparkled, that made Prussia’s chest feel warm. Honestly, he could probably listen to Romano talk for hours on end and never get tired of it.

"—It looked good on him, but it wasn’t his size, and there weren’t any others left, so he couldn’t buy it. A bit disappointing, but that’s not the important part,” Romano continued, waving a hand dismissively before covering his mouth to stifle a laugh. “What really matters is that the idiot forgot to take it off. When we were leaving, he just walked right out of the store still wearing it, and security stopped us.” he snickered. “It was hilarious. Veneziano totally freaked out, thinking he was about to get arrested!”

At that, the former nation let out a laugh and shook his head. “Classic little Italy. I honestly don’t know how he manages to get through each day. It’s like he runs on luck or something.”

Romano gave a small nod of agreement, prompting Prussia to continue. “But seriously, how did he not notice? Or you, for that matter? You’re way more attentive than he is.” he tilted his head, a cheeky grin spreading across his face, red eyes glinting with amusement.

At his words, South Italy frowned, but it wasn’t the kind of frown he wore when he was genuinely angry. It was the kind he put on when he was just messing around. “I am more attentive than my poor fratello,” he huffed, turning his head away and crossing his arms, “but I can’t watch over him all the time! I’ve got myself to worry about first, then him!” his dramatic gesture earned a snort from Prussia.

The German had to admit—Romano was pretty funny, even if he didn’t mean to be.

Prussia let out a small breath, feeling himself melt internally as he looked at the Southern nation. All he could think about was how good it felt that they were finally getting along. He really liked Romano—maybe more than he should—and being able to talk to him like this, without the Italian going out of his way to insult him, felt… nice. Honestly, if Romano ever went back to hating him, Prussia wasn’t sure he could take it. It would hurt more than he liked to admit.

So lost in his thoughts, the former nation didn’t notice the flicker of nervousness that crossed Romano’s face. The dark-haired man stayed silent for a moment before reaching for a paper bag on the table and sliding it over to Prussia. It wasn’t until then that the former nation snapped out of his reverie, blinking in surprise as he looked down at the bag.

"What's this?” he asked, a note of confusion in his voice.

Romano shifted in his seat, a hint of unease in his posture. “Uh, so… me and Veneziano stopped by this, uh, German bakery,” he mumbled, avoiding eye contact. “And I… I picked up some pastries for you.” he hesitated, then added, a bit awkwardly, “You’ve gotten me stuff before, so… I figured I’d, you know, return the favor.”

Prussia blinked, momentarily caught off guard. His eyes flicked from the bag to Romano, then back again.

Romano had bought pastries... for him?

He had never done anything like this before. In fact, it was probably the first time the older Italian had ever gotten him anything at all. It meant Romano had thought about him...

The gesture was small, but it made Prussia's heart ache in the best way possible.

“You didn’t have to get me anything…” he said softly. Romano finally looked up, eyes wide and uncertain, prompting Prussia to go on. “But… thanks. I really appreciate it.” a gentle smile tugged at his lips as he straightened up and reached over to ruffle Romano’s hair.

At that, the Southern nation let out a string of curses and quickly swatted his hand away. Prussia pulled back with a laugh, his grin widening when he caught a glimpse of Romano’s flustered expression.

"I swear to God, if you mess with my hair again, I’ll rip your damn arm off!” Romano snapped, cheeks puffed in frustration as he ran his fingers through his hair in an attempt to fix it.

"Yeah, right,” the former nation said with a snicker, earning a mild glare from Romano. He reached into the bag and pulled out one of the pastries, his eyes widening in surprise. "No way! Nußschnecken?” he exclaimed, lighting up like a Christmas tree. “This is one of my favorites!”

Romano’s glare faltered, shifting into a look of surprise. “It is...?” he asked, his voice hesitant.

"Yeah!” Prussia exclaimed, and without hesitation, took a big bite. He chewed eagerly, like he hadn’t eaten in days, finishing the pastry in just a few quick bites.

The German could honestly admit that the saying about the way to a man’s heart was through his stomach was absolutely true, because Romano was definitely winning his heart with all of this.

"I'm... um... glad you like it..." Romano mumbled, his voice so quiet that Prussia might have missed it if he hadn't been listening so intently.

The southern nation stared down at his hands, which were now clasped tightly together as he fidgeted with his fingers—something that wasn’t unusual for him. What was unusual, though, was the expression on his face. It wasn’t one of his typical small smiles… it was different. Prussia wasn't sure, but it almost looked like… fondness.

Whatever it was, it tugged hard at his heartstrings, and he found himself staring helplessly like some lovesick idiot.

He opened his mouth, ready to say something to distract himself and calm the fire building in his chest. But before he could get a word out, Romano suddenly looked up, and their eyes met. Just like that, whatever he’d meant to say vanished. His mouth hung slightly open, and Prussia knew he probably looked ridiculous, frozen like that. But he couldn’t help it. He was completely mesmerized by the other man’s eyes.

In the evening light, the green in Romano's eyes stood out even more, making them look like two bright emeralds... which sounded a bit cheesy, but that’s exactly how Prussia saw them.

Damn...

They stared at each other for a long moment, as if they were the only two people in the room, until suddenly—

"ROMANO!" Veneziano's voice echoed through the house, and not even a second later, the Northern nation burst into the room and practically threw himself onto his brother from behind. He wrapped his arms around Romano’s shoulders in an overly dramatic hug, letting out a loud, exaggerated wail. "Germany laughed at me!"

Romano jumped in his spot with a startled grunt, eyes widening as the moment between him and Prussia was unceremoniously shattered.

"Veneziano, what the hell?!" he snapped, looking up at his brother, who looked like he was two seconds away from bursting into obviously fake tears.

"Comfort me, fratello!” the light-haired brunette cried dramatically, earning an unamused look from Romano. Still, the older Italian sighed and lifted a hand to give his brother a half-hearted, reassuring pat. “Germany’s laughing at my pain!”

Just a moment after Veneziano spoke, Germany stepped into the room, looking somewhere between apologetic and amused. “I didn’t laugh,” he said calmly. “I just thought it was a little funny.”

"You did!” Veneziano protested, tightening his grip on his brother. “How could you laugh at my suffering?! I could’ve gone to jail!”

"You wouldn’t have gone to jail for forgetting to take off a shirt. Forgetfulness isn’t a crime." Germany said matter-of-factly.

"And how do you know that, hm?” the Northern nation asked with a skeptical look.

"Because I’ve read the legal regulations more times than I can count." the blonde replied plainly.

"Oh,” Veneziano murmured, falling silent for a moment before giving a small nod. “Right.” he then shook his head and looked away from his lover. “Still, you shouldn’t laugh at other people’s misfortune, it’s really rude!”

At that, Germany simply walked over to Italy, gently taking one of his hands in his own and looking at him with soft eyes. “Forgive me?” he asked, his voice unusually quiet and sentimental. Romano cringed at the display. There was just too much sappiness happening right beside him. Apparently, he wasn’t the only one who thought so. His hazel eyes flicked to Prussia, who was miming a gagging gesture and pointing at the couple, making Romano hold back a laugh.

The younger Italian cracked one eye open and glanced at his boyfriend before breaking into a grin. "Ok!" he said, slipping away from Romano and throwing his arms around Germany, prompting Romano to roll his eyes.

The two lovers looked like they were seconds away from making out, their eyes dreamy and their expressions hopelessly sappy. To put a stop to it, Prussia cleared his throat loudly. There was no way he was letting them turn the kitchen table into their personal make-out spot.

"Get a room, you two!" the former nation exclaimed, shooting the couple a disapproving look before gesturing toward the hallway.

At his words, the pair glanced at each other, then at Prussia, before reluctantly peeling themselves apart and looking slightly embarrassed.

"Sorry..." the Northern nation said quietly, letting out an awkward laugh.

"Yeah, you better be. My eyes were about to witness things they definitely didn’t want to witness." the albino remarked.

"Bruder." Germany said with a sharp glare, but Prussia merely shrugged in response.

"What? Just saying."

Germany gave him a deadpan look, while Italy let out another light laugh before turning to his brother, head tilted in curiosity. “Hey, by the way, what were you and Prussia talking about?” he asked. “You both seemed really into the conversation!”

"Uh..." Romano murmured, averting his gaze. "Nothing, just random talk... I, um, gave him the pastries..."

"Oh! How nice!” Italy exclaimed, clasping his hands together. “Did he like them?”

"Yeah…” Romano replied with a soft smile, but quickly caught himself. He shook his head, bit the inside of his cheek, and turned away from Veneziano. “Anyway, stop hovering over me and just sit down already! You’re getting on my nerves!”

At his words, the light-haired brunette made his way to the head of the table and sat down with a smile. For a moment, he remained silent, watching Germany and Prussia bicker. Then, as an idea suddenly struck him, he snapped his fingers. “Hey! Since we’re all here, why don’t we do something fun? Like play a game or something?” he exclaimed, effectively breaking up whatever argument the two Germans had been having.

"Play a game?” the albino repeated, tilting his head slightly in confusion.

"Yeah!” Veneziano nodded eagerly. “We could play charades or… or cards!” his excitement grew with each word, but it was quickly cut short when the Southern nation let out a sharp huff.

"That’s stupid." Romano muttered under his breath, but the younger Italian simply shook his head in response.

"It’s not stupid! It’s fun!” he argued, trying to reason with the older Italian. Romano raised an unimpressed eyebrow, prompting Veneziano to roll his eyes and add, “Plus—” dragging out the word as he leaned in closer to his brother, raising a hand like he was about to whisper a secret. However, he made no effort to lower his voice and just spoke in his usual tone. “—we can place bets to make it more interesting, hehe!”

At that, the older Italian lit up like he’d just hit the jackpot and quickly nodded in agreement with his brother. “Why didn’t you start with that, dumbass?” he said, not bothering to wait for a response. “I would’ve said yes in a heartbeat!”

Veneziano just shrugged and pulled back with a cheerful grin. Even if they didn’t seem the type, both Italians had always loved games of chance and gambling. They rarely won, but that never stopped them from playing. It had been their thing ever since the 1920s, when gambling first started gaining popularity. Back then, they’d make outrageous bets without a second thought, then sulk together when things inevitably went south. Over time, they’d both mellowed out and become more responsible, but it still remained a guilty pleasure they indulged in now and then.

"I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Germany said suddenly, earning disappointed looks from both halves of Italy. "I mean the betting part. Playing cards by itself it's fine."

"Aww, come on, Germany!” Veneziano whined, turning toward the blond man with wide, dramatic eyes. “It’s way more fun this way! Please, pretty please, PLEEEASE!”

At his pleas, Germany seemed to grow a little more defeated, though he still tried to stay the voice of reason. "Isn’t this just being irresponsible, though?” he said with a sigh.

"Uh… no?” the Northern nation replied hesitantly, glancing over at Romano. Romano shrugged, paused to think, then shook his head. Encouraged by this, Veneziano turned back to Germany. "Nope!" he exclaimed confidently.

"Right.” the German said, clearly unconvinced. His brother, on the other hand, appeared to think the exact opposite.

"I’m totally on board with this!” Prussia suddenly said, raising his hand like a student eager to speak. “I wouldn’t mind placing some bets! I’m a bit short on cash right now and wouldn't mind winning a little extra."

Germany shot him a pointed look. "You do realize you're more likely to lose money that way, right?"

"Haha, not when you’re as awesome as me!” Prussia said with a confident half-smirk. “I’m good at everything, so the odds are always in my favor. So, it's winning money in my case, not losing!” he declared triumphantly.

"Oh Gott…” Germany muttered, his voice tight as he brought a hand to his face and pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. “Where’s your sense of responsibility, Bruder?”

At his words, Prussia placed a hand over his chest and gave himself a light pat. “Right here,” he said, then added, “Along with my sense of fun, something you seem to be lacking.”

At that, the blonde narrowed his eyes and fixed Prussia with a sharp glare. He opened his mouth to retort, but before he could speak, the red-eyed man cut him off. “Besides, you don’t get a say anymore! It’s a three-to-one vote. Democratically speaking, you have to go along with us, because that’s how democracy works, and Germany is a democratic country!”

At his words, Germany fell silent, blinking with a conflicted expression. After a long, heavy sigh that made it seem like the weight of the world was on his shoulders, he muttered. "Fine. But, we're keeping the bets low. Five or ten euros max. No one’s getting into debt over a card game.”

"Deal!” Veneziano said cheerfully, grabbing his brother’s arm and giving it a light, excited shake. Germany sighed again, while Prussia laughed, amused by the younger German’s resigned reaction.

They ended up playing cards in teams of two—a suggestion from Veneziano, who wanted a siblings-versus-siblings match. Veneziano teamed up with Romano, while Prussia paired up with Germany. They played several rounds and it was a lot of fun. However, after a while, they had to switch teams because Veneziano and Romano kept making reckless moves and losing repeatedly, which left them both feeling sour and disappointed. So, Germany paired up with Veneziano, and Romano with Prussia. This turned out to be a good call since the wins and losses were more balanced.

With the new team setup, Prussia realized he genuinely enjoyed playing alongside Romano. The older Italian was fiercely competitive, just like him, and had a focused yet excited look on his face that Prussia found hard to look away from. More than once, he caught himself staring, which was a bit embarrassing. Thankfully, Romano either didn’t notice or chose not to say anything.

In the end, no one won or lost a significant amount of money, which was probably for the best. They'd all had fun without any real consequences. Afterward, they cleaned up the table, and surprisingly, Romano actually made an effort to help out. Veneziano, on the other hand, kept rambling without lifting a finger—not because he didn’t want to help (well, maybe that was part of it), but mostly because he tended to get so caught up in what he was saying that he forgot about everything else.

Once everything was tidied up, the four nations had dinner together before getting ready to turn in for the night.

As Prussia walked down the hallway, his thoughts drifted to Romano. He wondered if the Italian would be alright tonight and debated whether he should ask him or not. Still, he didn’t want to come off as pushy. God knew how badly that could go.

He was just about to reach his door, still undecided, when he heard footsteps behind him. Turning around, he came face to face with none other than Romano, the very person he’d just been thinking about.

"Oh,” Prussia said, a bit surprised, before breaking into a grin. “Hey, older Italy. What’s up?”

Romano gave a small shrug, his gaze shifting away for a moment before returning to Prussia, his brows knitting together ever so slightly. "Are... are you going to bed...?"

"Hm?” the former nation responded, a hint of confusion in his voice, as if he hadn’t quite caught what Romano said. But after a brief pause, he shook his head and answered properly. He had heard him, after all. “Uh, nah, not really,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m gonna stay up a bit longer. Y’know, get on the grind, haha…” he added, making finger guns.

Romano’s frown deepened, looking puzzled by the remark. Realizing how ridiculous it sounded, Prussia quickly backtracked. “Okay, that was dumb. Just… forget I said that.”

South Italy, however, kept frowning. (Though not for the reason Prussia assumed, which was being put off by his dumb joke)

"So, you're not going to bed..." the older Italian murmured, his expression turning thoughtful.

"Uh... yeah,” the albino replied slowly. “Why?” he asked, blinking in confusion as the brunette suddenly tensed up.

That was odd. Prussia frowned, wondering what that was about. He thought for a moment, until a thought suddenly crossed his mind.

"Wait... do you wanna stay with the awesome me again tonight?" he asked, a little unsure. He didn’t actually believe that was the reason Romano looked so tense, but it was the only thing he could think of. He half-expected Romano to roll his eyes and shut him down. But instead, Romano’s head snapped up, eyes wide, like Prussia had just read his mind.

"Uh…?” Prussia blinked, caught completely off guard. He stared at him for a moment before it suddenly clicked

"Wait! You actually do?!" he exclaimed, surprise spreading across his face.

At those words, the older Italian snapped out of his trance, quickly shaking his head in embarrassment. One hand flew up to cover his face. “Shut up, it’s not—well—I do, but it’s, um—” he stammered, gesturing vaguely with his free hand, clearly struggling to put his thoughts into words. Frustrated, he let out a groan. “Ugh, God damn it!” he exclaimed, spinning around and burying his face in both hands.

“Wait, no—don’t be embarrassed! I’m down for that!” Prussia said quickly, his voice louder than he intended as he stepped around to face the Italian.

Romano didn’t respond. He kept his face buried in his hands, muttering something into his palms that Prussia couldn’t make out.

The albino blinked. Had he even heard him? Probably not.

He took a small, cautious step closer, unsure of what to do. After a brief pause, he slowly reached out and grabbed Romano’s wrists. When the brunette didn’t pull away, he gently lowered his hands from his face.

The Italian kept his eyes fixed on the floor, his face so red it looked like he might pass out.

Prussia swallowed hard before finally speaking. "I don’t mind staying with you tonight too,” he said quietly, holding Romano’s hands a little tighter. “Or... any night, really. I actually like being around you. Talking with you. Telling you about all my old battles… Not many people care to listen, so it’s... nice.” he offered a small, sincere smile. “You’re an awesome person to be around.”

Romano blinked, then slowly lifted his gaze to meet Prussia’s. Some of the tension in his shoulders eased. “Really?” he asked, his voice quiet and tinged with disbelief.

Prussia nodded. “Really.”

The two nations stood still in the dimly lit hallway, neither saying a word. Prussia found himself once again lost in Romano’s eyes, unable to look away. The soft light and heavy silence only made things worse. He suddenly felt the urge to step closer and close the small distance between him and the other man. But just before he could, Romano spoke, breaking the silence.

“Um… can I have my hands back now?”

At his words, Prussia blinked and suddenly snapped out of his trance. “Wha—oh! Yeah! Ha—sorry,” he stammered, quickly letting go. He took a few clumsy steps back and accidentally bumped into the decorative dresser nearby. Quickly, he slammed a hand down on it to steady the wobbling piece. "Oops…” he muttered slowly, then let out an awkward laugh, feeling like a complete idiot.

Romano stayed silent for a moment before laughing softly, clearly amused by the ex-nation’s clumsiness. That little laugh eased Prussia’s nerves.

“Thank you…” Romano said quietly, tilting his head slightly and giving a small smile.

Romano’s words soothed something inside the red-eyed man. It was probably only the second time the Italian had ever thanked him, but that simple act of gratitude made him feel like he was actually doing something with his life—helping someone—rather than wasting time on meaningless tasks that went unnoticed. The feeling reminded him of how he had felt back in the 1800s, when he fought for his country. It was a comforting feeling.

"You know,” Prussia said suddenly. "if you ever want to come to my room to talk or just get your mind off things, you don’t have to ask me anymore. Just come whenever you want.” he ran a hand through his hair awkwardly. “You’re welcome anytime.”

At his words, the Southern nation looked at him with slightly stunned eyes. He stared for a moment before looking away. “That’s…” he began, drawing out the word before letting out a soft sigh. “That’s really nice of you… grazie.” Then, suddenly straightening up, he met Prussia’s eyes again. “I’m going to go get changed now, but I’ll be back in, like, 10, maybe 20 minutes. So, wait here!” he said quickly, then seemed to reconsider. “Well, actually, don’t just wait here! You can go to your room if you want. Just know I’ll be back soon!” he nodded to emphasize his words before stepping past Prussia to walk away. But then, as if changing his mind again, he paused, glanced over his shoulder, and before Prussia could say anything, Romano turned back, stepped forward, and gave him a quick hug. The sudden gesture caught the albino off guard, leaving him too surprised to return it. Just as quickly, Romano pulled back and spun around, heading down the hallway.

The red-eyed man stood frozen, eyes wide, his heartbeat pounding like a drum in his ears.

Bathump.

Bathump.

“…Woah,” he whispered softly, almost exhaling the word. He brought a hand to his chest, feeling his heart hammering against his ribs. His jaw clenched as his gaze dropped to the floor, his cheeks flushing slightly.

Ah, this wasn't good. His poor heart couldn't take this...

Prussia ran a hand down his face, trying to steady himself. "Gott, get it together." he told himself, taking a deep breath in and out as he fought to calm the many feelings in his chest—feelings that had no right to be there. He stayed like that for a moment before straightening up and heading toward his room.

The German needed to clear his mind. This was definitely not the time to be caught up in these thoughts and emotions. He had a job to do: help Romano.

With that thought in mind, the former nation entered his room and began preparing the small couch for him to sleep on, because he was pretty sure he wouldn’t be sleeping in his bed tonight either. And although he knew he was going to wreck his back again, he found that he didn’t mind it all that much.

.
.
.

True to his word, Romano was in Prussia’s room within fifteen minutes. They ended up talking about the most random things until the clock struck midnight, and Romano, feeling too tired to continue, asked Prussia to tell him another story from his past. The former nation happily obliged, recounting another war he had won, until Romano finally drifted off into a peaceful sleep.

The older Italian seemed to genuinely enjoy spending his nights with Prussia. Over the next few days, he kept coming to the albino’s room to hang out until he fell asleep. During that time, he slowly began to open up more, sharing in greater detail the reasons behind his insomnia. It made Prussia happy to know that Romano trusted him so much.

Even so, the Southern nation didn't tell him everything. Prussia noticed, but he didn’t push. He had learned that forcing someone to talk usually backfired. He trusted that Romano would open up when he was ready, and if not, he would respect that. After all, that’s what good friends did.

Aside from that, South Italy also shared stories about his country and some funny moments from his past. Prussia began to realize they had more in common than he’d initially thought.

In the short time they’d spent together, the two had grown closer, and the former nation found it harder and harder to stop his heart from fluttering, especially when Romano got a little too close, smiled that warm smile of his, or frowned like an annoyed cat who didn’t want to be bothered. It was all strangely endearing.

Then, one late night, as they sat on the floor with their backs against the bed in Prussia’s room, Romano suddenly spoke.

"Hey… Prussia?” the Italian murmured softly, his hazel eyes shifting toward the man beside him. He watched as the albino turned his head slightly, meeting him with a curious raised eyebrow.

"Yeah?"

Romano didn’t respond immediately, instead, he kept his gaze fixed on Prussia, his expression conflicted. After a moment, he blinked and quickly looked away, staring off at the far wall, or perhaps into nothingness, it was hard to tell.

Prussia tilted his head slightly at Romano’s unusual reaction but stayed silent. He watched him closely, noticing how the Southern nation’s tanned hands were nervously fidgeting in his lap, fingers twisting the fabric of his sleepwear—a small habit he had when he was anxious. His jaw was tightly clenched, and he hardly seemed to be breathing. It was clear that whatever Romano wanted to say was troubling him, which sparked both concern and curiosity in the former nation.

"Something bothering you?” the white-haired man asked. Romano’s face tensed, his lips pressing into a firm line before he let out a deep sigh and slowly began to relax.

The Italian closed his eyes briefly, then opened them again, his head bowed. After a pause, he finally spoke. “What exactly do you…” he hesitated, swallowing hard. “…think of yourself?”

At those words, Prussia furrowed his brows, slightly puzzled by South Italy’s question. It didn’t seem like the kind of thing that should make him so tense. “What I think of myself…?” he repeated, wanting to make sure he’d heard him right.

Romano just nodded quietly in response, keeping his gaze fixed downward.

The ex-nation blinked slowly, then let out a soft “Hm…” as he leaned back against the bed frame, eyes drifting up to the white ceiling. "What an odd question." he said, sounding almost contemplative.

Romano gave him a sharp sideways look, clearly annoyed by the remark. “It’s a genuine one!” he said, frustration replacing his earlier nervousness. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to—actually, just forget I said anything. It was a dumb question anyway...” he muttered, crossing his arms.

"Hey, come on, don’t be like that,” Prussia said, giving Romano an apologetic look. “I meant ‘odd’ in a good way, not a bad one. It’s just... not the kind of question people usually ask.” he paused as Romano shot him a skeptical side glance. Letting out a guilty sigh, he added, "Okay, fine. I’ll answer. I was going to anyway, so there’s no reason to get upset,” he said, turning to face Romano fully. "So, what do I think of myself? Well... I think I’m awesome,” he said with a small grin, chuckling when Romano gave him an unimpressed look. "But, yeah, that’s probably already obvious, haha...”

The former nation ran a hand through his hair, his tone softening a little. “Aside from that, I think I’m a pretty simple guy. I know that might sound weird, considering how much I brag, but it’s true. I’m straightforward, honest, strong—physically, at least. Mentally?” he gave a half-smile and shrugged. "Could be better.” he glanced off to the side, thoughtful, then met Romano’s gaze again. "Still, I think I’m a decent person. I’m determined, and I don’t back down from, well... anything, really."

Prussia went quiet for a second, thinking. "I’m also loud. And I talk too much, especially about myself. That probably makes me seem arrogant, at least to the people who don’t know me well,” he said slowly. "But I’m not that arrogant. I mean, sure, I’m confident, but I like to think I’m humble too. Or at least... I try to be.”

His voice dropped a little as he continued. "I also put a lot of effort into acting like I’m fearless. Like I’m invincible. Like I don’t feel pain. But... you already know that’s not really true.” he hesitated, his tone growing more serious. "If it were, I’d probably still have land to call my own..."

The ex-nation shook his head, letting out a short breath. "I don’t want this to get all depressing. I know what I just said probably sounded pretty pitiful, but really, you don’t have to worry about me. I don’t see it that way. Not all the time, at least."

He tilted his head slightly, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "This might come off as a bit cheesy, but the losses I’ve had… as much as they hurt, I don’t really see them as bad things. I see them as things I’ve overcome. They’ve shaped me into who I am now and made me tougher." Prussia said, gesturing toward himself proudly. "I wouldn’t be as strong as I am today if I hadn’t gone through all that crap. So yeah. To sum it all up? I am awesome, because after everything, I’m still standing.”

By the time Prussia finished speaking, he had to pause and take a deep breath, only then realizing he’d rattled off most of his words in one long exhale. Once he caught his breath, he glanced at the man beside him. To his surprise, and mild relief, South Italy didn’t look worried anymore. In fact, he looked almost… astonished. Prussia wasn’t quite sure what to make of that expression, especially since he still didn’t fully understand why Romano had asked him that question to begin with. But, he figured it was a good thing... maybe? (He wasn't sure)

Romano stayed silent for a long moment before letting out a soft sigh, his expression taking on a hint of melancholy. “That’s... a good way to look at things,” he said quietly. “To still think so highly of yourself, even after everything... everything that could’ve ruined that image.”

The former nation furrowed his brows slightly at the sad look on the brunette’s face. “Well… yeah. I can’t let myself drown in self-pity over stuff like that,” Prussia said. “It’d just make me miserable, and honestly, that’s not really my style. I think everyone should try to stay positive, no matter what life throws at them. If I held onto every bad thing that’s happened, I’d lose my mind. Thinking this way... it’s what keeps me sane.”

He watched as Romano took in his words, giving a slow, thoughtful nod. But his expression only grew more somber, which started to worry the German. It was becoming clear that Romano hadn’t asked that question on a whim.

"Yeah… positive. Sounds nice." the hazel-eyed man murmured quietly, his voice trailing off as he fell silent once more.

The former nation hesitated for a moment before asking. "Was there a reason you asked me that?" he said carefully, watching as something in Romano's expression subtly shifted. "I mean... it was just so out of the blue and, well, a little random, you know?'"

"Ah..." Romano exhaled quietly before drawing in a deep breath. "I guess I just wanted to see if the way you view yourself… lined up with how I see myself," he said slowly, his voice low and a bit strained. His eyes, clouded with something like sorrow, flicked to the side briefly before settling back on Prussia’s.

The German absorbed the other man's words, turning them over in his mind before reluctantly asking, "And... does it match?"

At that, Romano gave a slight shake of his head, his brows knitting together. “No, not really…” he replied slowly. “It’s nowhere near mine… quite far from it.”

"How come…?” Prussia asked, tilting his head just a little, his gaze so intense it felt like he was trying to pierce right through the other man.

"It’s… uh, complicated." Romano said, his expression tightening.

"I like complicated." Prussia stated swiftly, noticing the brief flash of surprise on the other’s face before it settled back into that tense look.

"Very complicated..." Romano emphasized.

"If I can handle a thousand-piece puzzle, I can handle whatever you're gonna throw at me!" Prussia said matter-of-factly, punctuating his words by lightly hitting his open palm with the bottom of his fist.

His determination and words drew a small, amused huff from the Italian, easing his tension for just a moment. “That’s a terrible comparison." he said with an eye roll, then let out a soft sigh.

Romano fell silent for a moment, clasping his hands together, then releasing them, only to clasp them again. His brows drew together as his gaze wandered uncertainly around the room, as if he couldn’t decide what to say, how to say it, or whether he should say anything at all. Then, after a long pause, he finally parted his lips to speak.

"You know how, over the past few days, I’ve told you about the things that make me overthink and make it hard for me to sleep...?” he asked, glancing briefly at Prussia, who gave a slow nod before looking away again. “Right, so… those things I've mentioned, they’re all part of why I can’t sleep. But, um…” he paused, his lips pressing into a tight line like the words were hard to say, before pushing himself to go on. “I haven’t told you the biggest reason. The thing that I think might’ve started my insomnia. I’m not completely sure, but... yeah.” he fidgeted with his hands, eyes flickering down. “I haven’t told you, or anyone, really, because it’s just too…” he trailed off, his gaze narrowing slightly as he searched for the right word. “Lame,” he finally said, letting the word linger in the air before giving a small nod. “Sì. Lame.”

At his confession, Prussia couldn’t help but frown a little, not because he thought what Romano had said was something worth frowning over. Jesus, no. It was just that he couldn’t understand how the brunette could think something that had seemingly triggered his insomnia in the first place was 'lame'. From Prussia’s perspective, whatever it was, it wasn’t lame at all. It was serious.

Huh... now that he thought about it though, it was strange that Romano had mentioned his self-image right before talking about his insomnia. Could they be connected? It actually seemed quite likely, especially considering that just a few days ago, Romano had practically begged Prussia to hate him. And on the first night Romano had come to him, he’d said he thought he was a terrible person. Back then, Prussia had found it confusing. He didn’t understand where Romano was coming from, since from his point of view, the older Italian wasn’t terrible at all. But reflecting on it now, it seemed clear that Romano was struggling with some serious issues about how he saw himself... However, Prussia didn’t want to jump to conclusions just yet. Even if everything pointed in that direction, he needed to hear what Romano had to say first before making any assumptions.

"How so...?" the white-haired man asked. "I mean, if what you're saying is true, and whatever you're talking about really is the main cause of your insomnia, then there’s no way it’s lame. Something that’s affected you so much doesn’t deserve to be written off like that.”

Romano didn’t look convinced. “It is though." he muttered, his voice laced with bitterness, not directed at Prussia, but at himself.

The albino stared at Romano for a moment before his gaze softened. Without thinking, he shifted closer until their shoulders touched. “I’ll be the judge of that.” he stated gently, in a tone that made it clear that whatever Romano was about to say, he wasn’t going to see it as lame.

At that, the Southern nation shot him a quick side glance before letting out a loud sigh. "Fine... but don't be too judgy."

"I won’t,” Prussia said, placing a hand over his chest. “Cross my heart and hope to die.”

Romano gave him a weak smile before lowering his gaze to his hands. “So,” he began slowly, “the reason that’s been consuming my mind most of the time these past few months is…” he paused briefly, hesitating, then shook his head and forced the words out. “…It’s about how I see myself... or rather, how I am as a person, and how that affects how I feel about myself, if that makes any sense.” he finally admitted, confirming Prussia’s suspicions.

Romano swallowed hard and fell silent for a moment, tensing as if bracing for a negative reaction. But when none came, he seemed to relax and continued. “That’s why I asked how you see yourself. I wanted to know if I was the only one feeling this way, and maybe to feel better if your view matched mine. But it didn’t… you think about things differently, in a good way, very unlike me. My way of thinking is just… sickening." the hazel-eyed man confessed with a heavy sigh. “I kind of expected you’d say a lot of positive stuff, because unlike me, you have this stupid ability to stay positive even when things don’t make sense. But a part of me wanted to believe you wouldn't…" he said quietly, then lifted his head a little. "Ah, how pitiful that sounds.”

Prussia listened to the other man’s words, feeling his chest tighten, not in the pleasant way it usually did around Romano, but in a painful way. He felt bad for the brunette, he really did, and he knew that was probably the last thing Romano wanted. Pity. Even Prussia didn’t like pity, but he simply couldn’t help it, because the way Romano spoke, even though he was just beginning to open up, was so full of sadness that it was tearing Prussia’s heart apart.

"How exactly do you view yourself...?" the former nation asked cautiously.

"I…” Romano started, but the words caught in his throat before he could finish. He clenched his fists, his nails digging into his skin, then slowly unclenched them. “I think…” he tried again, but faltered once more. Frustrated with himself, he frowned briefly before his expression softened into misery. “I think I’m terrible..." he admitted quietly, barely audible, yet the silence around them made every word clear to Prussia.

"I know you told me not long ago that I’m not... that I’m good and have a kind heart. And I truly appreciated those words, and still do. But no matter how sincere those words were, they can’t change the truth I feel deep inside... that I’m not a good person… that I’m terrible."

Romano didn’t speak those words like they were casual observations. He spoke them as if they were an undeniable truth. Something he didn’t need any proof or justification to believe.

"I’ve never been good with people. That’s always been my brother’s thing, not mine. He gets along with everyone easily, but I struggle. It’s stupid... being a nation hundreds of years old, I shouldn’t be so bad at something so simple. But I am. I always say the wrong thing, embarrass myself even when I shouldn’t, and I complicate things that should be easy. My attitude doesn’t help either. I’m naturally rude and mean, and that’s exactly what people hate. I don’t blame them though. No one likes a rude jerk."

He lowered his head, his bangs falling over his eyes, which he blew away only for them to fall back in place again. “I tried once to be more like my brother... happier... but it didn’t work. I just screwed up. Turns out, happiness isn’t for me, only bitterness and sadness.” his voice grew sharper with frustration before he sighed and placed a hand over his chest. “I don’t know why I’m like this. I always mess things up, especially when I try. Maybe that’s just who I am... a nation that’s always second to Veneziano.” he clenched his sleepwear shirt tightly. “And I hate myself for it, for being angry, rude, mean... but there’s nothing I can do except live with it, even though it’s hard.”

Romano’s voice dropped to a whisper, his hand falling limply beside him. He raised his head, eyes glistening with unshed tears. “Mio fratello is loved more than I am, and rightly so. He’s kind, generous, always knows what to say. He’s almost perfect… well, not entirely, since he’s a bit of a coward and physically weak, but I can’t claim to be better. Between us, he is the ideal, and I’m just the second Italy.”

He stayed quiet for a moment, as if trying to gather his thoughts before continuing. “And these... these first and second places, roles that were set in stone from the very beginning of our country, fill me with jealousy. Even now, just thinking about it makes me feel envious of Veneziano... and angry. Angry that I’m always in his shadow while he gets to stand in the light and be admired by everyone." the Italian scowled briefly, but then his expression faded into something more pained. "But I don’t like feeling this way,” he whispered, turning toward Prussia with wide, pleading eyes. “You have to believe me, I really don’t. I hate being jealous of mio fratello, and angry at him for something he can’t control. I hate it so much, because even if he is better than me in so many ways, he still loves me. So, It hurts to resent him. It fills me with guilt I don’t know how to handle.”

Romano glanced away briefly before meeting Prussia’s eyes again. "I love Veneziano too. I really do. But these stupid feelings—” he motioned to himself, a trace of frustration in the gesture— “these thoughts that won’t leave me alone, they make it almost impossible to show him how much I care. It’s rare... so rare, that I manage to express it. He hugs me all the time and says ‘Ti amo, fratello,’ and I... I can never bring myself to say it back. The jealousy just... chokes it out of me. And then I feel awful. I always feel awful afterward. But I still can’t let myself return his affection... because doing so would make me feel even worse, like I’d be faking it."

He let his head fall into his hands in defeat. "God, I hate all of this,” he muttered. “I hate the world for making me suffer like this… but more than anything, I hate myself for being like this and not knowing how to change. It’s always been like this, but now it’s worse, and it’s ruining my sleep." his voice cracked as he stared down at his trembling hands, eyes red and tired. "I don’t know what to do..." he said, voice trembling as the words caught in his throat. Slowly, he looked up at Prussia, his eyes filled with helplessness. “Please… tell me what to do.”

After hearing Romano’s rant Prussia was completely speechless. Not the kind of speechless that came from awe, but the kind that came from pure shock, the kind where no words came to mind because nothing felt like enough. His throat went dry, his heart pounded in his chest, and his thoughts raced faster than ever before.

He had lived for centuries. He’d walked across blood-soaked battlefields, comforted beat up soldiers, listened to their cries, and helped lift them out of despair. He had been the one his brother and (sometimes) friends confided in during their darkest moments. But none of that, none of those experiences, had prepared him for this.

Nothing anyone had ever told him compared to what Romano had just revealed. No one Prussia had ever known had spoken about themselves with so much pain and self-hate... It was, quite frankly, concerning, and beyond anything Prussia had ever heard. He couldn’t even find a word for it. It was just that bad.

The German had felt bad before, but now he realized that what he felt just moments ago was nothing compared to this. It was as if someone had torn his heart out with the tip of a blade, right then and there. All he wanted was to take away Romano’s pain, to silence those awful thoughts and bring him peace, but the problem was... he didn’t know how. He wasn’t sure what to say, how to act, or what to do. His mind was overwhelmed, flooded with so many thoughts and emotions that everything became a confusing jumble of feelings and words.

Goddamn it. Prussia needed to calm down and think straight. Panicking never solved anything. If anything, it only led to failure. And if there was one thing Prussia refused to do, it was fail. First things first, he had to find the root of the problem just like solving a math problem. What was the root in Romano’s case? Well... the guy seemed to have serious self-esteem issues.

It was honestly baffling. The German just couldn’t wrap his head around it. As far as he was concerned, Romano was insanely cool. He always had been. But apparently, Romano didn’t see himself the same way. Honestly, most of the things the older Italian had said about himself weren’t even true in Prussia’s eyes. He didn’t think Romano was a bad person, far from it. He thought Romano was kind, just with a sharp temper. But Prussia didn’t see that as a flaw. If anything, it gave him personality… a personality that Romano, for some reason, seemed to hate. And Prussia couldn’t understand why. He actually liked Romano’s personality. Also, he didn’t see Romano as a screw-up like he claimed. In fact, he thought the Southern nation was pretty great.

Romano had done so much... not just for Southern Italy, but even for his brother’s region up North. And beyond that, he’d helped plenty of other nations during their hard times. Prussia just couldn’t understand how someone like that could think so little of themself.

Also, Romano definitely wasn’t second place to Italy. Who had even put that idea in his head? Plenty of people preferred Romano over Veneziano. Take Spain, for example. Sure, he liked Veneziano, but he clearly favored Romano, and that made sense, considering he practically raised him. Belgium was much closer to the Southern nation too, probably because she used to spend time at Spain’s place back when Romano was still a colony. Even her brother, Netherlands, seemed to have a better connection with Romano, at least from what Prussia had seen.

And honestly? Prussia himself liked Romano more. No offense to little Italy—he was great—but Romano was definitely his favorite.

So how could Romano not see that? How could he ignore everything good and focus only on the bad—bad that didn’t even really exist? No one hated him. The only person who seemed to truly hate Romano... was Romano himself.

So then... the answer to this whole equation was simple: Prussia had to show Romano just how wrong he was for thinking that way.

Taking a deep breath, the former nation readied himself to speak, determination settling into his expression. "Romano," he began slowly, carefully choosing his words. "That’s a hell of a lot to take in. And I’m sure it took a lot of courage to open up like that... and to trust me, too. So... thank you. Really. Thank you for trusting me."

He tried his hardest to speak as kindly as he could, using the not-so-great therapy skills he’d picked up over the past couple of years. He didn’t want to mess this up or say something that would make Romano feel even worse. He just wanted to help. That meant he had to say something smart... something inspiring...

“I think…” Prussia started, then stopped. Finding the right words was proving harder than he expected. He paused, fumbling for a new approach. "From my opinion…” he tried again, but the words felt wrong, and he cut himself off before he could finish the sentence.

Augh! Why was this so difficult? Thinking it all through in his head was easy, but actually saying it out loud? That was something else entirely. Nothing came out the way he wanted.

A small frown crept across the ex-nation's face as he tried to gather his thoughts and express them properly. "I…” he started once more, only to close his mouth again.

Forget it. He sucked at speeches. If he wanted to get this right, he’d have to stop overthinking and just speak from the heart.

With a small shake of his head, the German let out a heavy sigh. “Honestly... I don’t even know where to begin,” he admitted. “I’ve lived through a hell of a lot. Seen things, good and bad. Met all kinds of people. But still... I’ve never heard anyone talk about themselves the way you just did.”

He looked down for a moment, then met Romano’s reddened eyes again. "I don’t really know how to handle this kind of thing. I’m not exactly wise or... great with words. So I can’t pretend to know what you should do, because truthfully? I don’t even know myself.”

Prussia placed a hand over his chest, voice softening. “Still, I want to help. I want to fix this. If I could take that pain out of you and carry it myself, I would. If I could pull it from your chest and bury it somewhere deep enough that you’d never feel it again, I’d do it without thinking.” he said firmly before his shoulders dropped in defeat. "But, sadly, I can't... because that's impossible.

His voice dropped lower. "All I have to offer you right now are words… and honestly, that sucks, because like I’ve said before, I’ve never been good with them. Especially these kinds of words.” he let out a frustrated breath. “And words... they’re weak. What’s that saying again? ‘Actions speak louder than words’?” he muttered, glancing at Romano, who gave a slow, confused nod.

"Yeah, that’s it,” he said. “But I can’t act right now. I can’t do anything. So all I have are these damn words...” Prussia said, letting out a dry, bitter chuckle.

"I could sit here and tell you that everything you just said about yourself isn’t true, because it isn’t. But if you don’t believe me, it won’t change anything. Still… even if it’s pointless, I’m going to say it anyway. Because what you believe about yourself is wrong. And whether you believe me or not… what I’m going to tell you is the truth.”

Romano froze at Prussia’s words. His eyes widened, the rich hazel-green hues standing out even more. His eyebrows lifted in surprise, and his mouth hung slightly open, as if he wanted to say something, but no sound came out. He just blinked, staring at Prussia. Seeing this, the former nation took it as a sign to continue, so he did.

"You say you're terrible, that you're not a good person, but I don’t see it that way," Prussia began, his voice full of sincerity. "By definition, being terrible means deliberately hurting others without remorse, without any sense of morality or right and wrong. And honestly, that’s not you. You don’t go around causing harm just because you feel like it." he stated, preparing to go on, but before he could say more, Romano interrupted him.

"But... but I have hurt people," he admitted softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "I’ve hurt my brother... your brother... even you." he added, motioning toward Prussia, who simply shook his head in response.

"That doesn’t count. You were exhausted. You hadn’t slept in days, and you were suffering because of it. Instead of giving you space or trying to help, we piled a ton of pressure on you until you snapped. That’s on us, not you... and I’m really sorry for that. You wouldn’t have reached that point if we’d been paying more attention... if I had been paying more attention."

"How can you be so sure...?" Romano asked quietly, his eyes searching the former nation’s face.

At that, Prussia gave a faint smile. "Because you’re not a bad person," he said simply, which only made the bewildered look on Romano’s face deepen. "Anyway, like I was saying, I don’t think you’re bad with people either. I mean, you get along with me pretty well, so that’s gotta count for something!" the former nation exclaimed, nodding to emphasize his point.

“Also, I don’t think you mess up all the time. Actually, I think you’re quite successful. Your country is prospering, especially with tourism. It’s super high right now! I’m pretty sure you’re in the top five most visited countries, which is really impressive. Germany isn’t anywhere near that!”

“Plus, you always look out for your country, and that’s definitely not a screw-up quality. Sure, your country isn’t perfect, but what country is? When I still had land, even though I tried to keep things in order, it was a mess. There were constant conflicts over the smallest things, and the economy was terrible... resources were scarce. So honestly, you’re doing way better than I ever did back then!”

At his words, Romano frowned slightly. "Don’t say that... don’t put yourself down like that," he said quietly. "Things were different back then. It was a lot harder to be responsible for a country than it is now. The fact that you managed to hold on for so long during such a rough time already means you did better than me. You had to fight just to survive. All I have to do now is sign papers and make sure my people don’t cause trouble. It’s nothing impressive... not like what you did..."

"Ah," Prussia breathed, caught off guard by the other man's words. "That..." he started, sounding a bit disoriented, before shaking his head and refocusing. "You’re right that things were harder back then," he agreed. "but that doesn’t make what you do now any less important. It’d be ridiculous if it did. If I followed that logic, then none of the nations today would count as doing anything worthwhile, and that’s just not true."

At that, the southern nation's frown faded, replaced by a look of realization. "Oh… I’ve never looked at it like that before."

"Well, you should. Don’t scale everything down and focus only on your flaws. Anyone would find faults if they did that. Look at the bigger picture and remember that we’re all in the same circle here.”

Romano blinked at his words, a bit dazed, as if he couldn’t quite believe Prussia had said that. After a moment, he gave a small, hesitant nod. The German was satisfied with that. It was a start.

Prussia stayed silent for a moment, letting the silence settle between them as he looked at Romano with softened eyes. Then, after a beat, he finally spoke. "You know, you’re not second place to your brother,” he admitted, causing Romano to look surprised. “You say he’s better than you, that he’s perfect or whatever, but I don’t see it like that. Little Italy is great, sure, but so are you. He’s great in his way, and you’re great in yours. Just because you’re different doesn’t mean you’re less. You’re not supposed to be him, just like he’s not supposed to be you. Comparing the two of you doesn’t make sense. You’ve each got strengths in different areas, and that’s what makes you both unique. So, you're not worse off than he is, you're just different.

"But... but he is better than me...!” Romano argued, shaking his head stubbornly, unwilling to accept Prussia’s words.

"No, he’s not. That’s just your perception. Objectively, you’re just as good as he is. Sure, he is loved by many—I won't deny that—but so are you. In fact, plenty of people prefer you over him.

At his words, South Italy bit his lip, his expression tightening as if trying to hold something back. A flicker of doubt passed through his eyes, and he looked away, turning his head sharply to the side. "That’s not… that’s not true,” he muttered, his throat tightening around the words. "No one actually holds that kind of adoration for me… you’re just saying that…”

"I’m not! I’m really not!” Prussia replied quickly, his voice a little sharper than he intended, as he waved his hands in a hurried, dismissive gesture. He didn’t want Romano to misunderstand or take the wrong impression from his words. "I’m being honest! Seriously! Why would I even lie about something like that? That’d be totally un-awesome!"

Romano gave a small, hesitant shrug, eyes still full of uncertainty. The gesture only made Prussia more determined to get through to him.

“Just so you know," he said slowly. " I hold that kind of adoration for you." he confessed, without a second thought, not caring how the words might have sounded. He just wanted Romano to understand that he wasn’t hated.

At those words, the dark-haired brunette whipped his head around, eyes wide with disbelief and lips slightly parted, as if he couldn’t process what he’d just heard. “What...?” he murmured, his voice barely audible.

Only then did the red-eyed man realize what he’d said, and a flicker of embarrassment washed over him. He felt like he could die on the spot. But he didn’t backtrack, because he meant every word.

"It’s true,” he said, feeling Romano’s gaze burning into him. He looked away briefly, then met his eyes again, clearing his throat. "I really do admire you that much… more than I admire little Italy, if I’m being honest."

"Huh...?!" Romano exclaimed. "How come?!"

"Just like this." Prussia responded simply. "Don’t get me wrong, Little Italy’s awesome, and I enjoy being friends with him. But between the two of you, you’re my favorite Italy. You’re more awesome than he is."

"But—but he is… and I’m just—” the Southern nation stammered, clearly struggling to process the German's words. It was as if the idea that Prussia could prefer him over his brother was impossible. He opened his mouth to respond, then shut it again. After a brief pause, he tried once more, but no words came out. With a frustrated groan, he covered his face with his hands.

"This doesn’t make sense…” he muttered, his voice muffled. “You’ve been friends with him way longer than you’ve known me… We only started getting along recently, and before that, I kept pushing you away…” his voice cracked slightly, and he took a deep breath before continuing. "So how can you say you prefer me over him?”

At that, the German’s eyes softened, and he placed a reassuring hand on Romano’s shoulder. “Just because,” he said quietly. “It doesn’t have to make sense. I just do.” he hesitated for a moment before continuing. “I’ve always thought you were awesome, and I’ve wanted to be… friends—”

Friends wasn’t exactly the word he wanted to use. The truth was, he hoped for something more. But now wasn’t the time to say that, not when Romano was this vulnerable.

"—with you for a long time, and I don’t care that it took so long, I’m just happy we’re friends now. Honestly, these past few days I’ve spent with you have been better than a hundred I’ve spent with little Italy. No shade to him, though... I just like you better."

At his words, Romano lowered his hands from his face just slightly, his eyes red and his brows furrowed like he was trying hard not to cry. "You always say things like this…” he said, his voice strained. “Things that are so kind… things that make me feel lighter, somehow. But I just… I just don’t understand why.” he let out a shaky breath. "I don’t get why you’d waste your breath on someone like me... a selfish, jealous bastard…” his voice cracked on the last word, and he quickly buried his face in his hands again.

Prussia let out a quiet sigh and shifted on the floor until he was sitting directly in front of Romano. "You know what I don’t understand? Why you just called yourself selfish when you’re one of the most selfless people I know." he said. “You bought me pastries a couple days ago without expecting anything in return. Isn’t that what being selfless is?”

"I was just returning a favor!” Romano shot back. “You bought me stuff, so I did the same! That’s called not being an asshole, not being selfless!”

"But you could’ve done nothing at all, and yet you still chose to." Prussia pointed out.

"It doesn’t count!" Romano argued, prompting the former nation to drag a hand down his face in frustration. God, the older Italian could be unbelievably stubborn.

The ex-nation took a deep breath, paused to think for a moment, then snapped his fingers as an idea came to him. "You also said that part of the reason Little Italy brought you here—besides wanting to help with your sleeping problem—was because he wanted to get all lovey-dovey with West, and that you didn’t want to come at first but gave in for your brother’s sake. Isn’t that an act of selflessness?”

Hearing that, Romano seemed unsure of how to respond. “It’s… well…” he stammered, then dropped his hands, his expression troubled. “It’s just…” he tried to explain, but his words trailed off. Seeing that, the German continued speaking without hesitation.

"I also know that you help Spain a lot. He talks about you all the time and says how proud he is of you." he admitted, making Romano blink in surprise.

"He does…?” the Southern nation asked, disbelief written all over his face. Prussia felt a bit sad, realizing that Romano truly struggled to believe that even the people closest to him thought well of him.

"Yeah,” the white-haired man replied gently, then gestured toward Romano. “That just proves my point, you’re not selfish!"

The Italian looked like he wanted to argue but didn’t know how, which was understandable, since Prussia had just given him solid proof that he wasn’t selfish.

Ha! Score!

"As for the jealous part…” the former nation began, his expression growing thoughtful. “That’s a bit more complicated. If your jealousy toward your brother affects how you act around him, then that’s something only you can work through and overcome. But I can tell you this—You have nothing to be jealous of. You’re just as good as he is, maybe even better in some ways." he paused, choosing his words carefully. "Feeling jealous is normal, everyone experiences it from time to time. But it shouldn’t damage your relationship with your own sibling…” he spoke slowly, noticing how his words seemed to sadden Romano, whose eyes dropped. Quickly, he added, “I used to feel jealous of my brother too, back when East and West Germany merged and he had to take over the entire country!"

At that, Romano's eyes snapped back to him. "You did?"

"Yeahh, and a whole lot too." Prussia admitted with a dry chuckle. “It’s something else having land, people, and a purpose one day, then waking up the next with all of it gone. And then seeing your sibling get everything... the territory, the recognition, the praise you once had.” his voice took on a bittersweet tone, a faint, sad smile forming on his face. “Yeah… I was really jealous back then.”

The Italian gave him a sympathetic look before asking softly. "And... how did you get over your jealousy?”

At that, Prussia’s sad smile brightened into a happy one. "I turned it into proudness!” he said with enthusiasm, earning a confused look from the dark-haired brunette.

"Proudness...?"

"Yup!” the ex-nation said with a nod. “It took me a while, but eventually I realized that even though I lost everything to my little brother, I was actually proud of him. He was so capable that our old bosses decided he should be the one to lead the country. And honestly? That just showed how well I raised him. I taught him everything I knew, pushed him to be the best, and he became someone awesome because of it."

He paused, his smile turning fond. “I realized I was proud of the person he’d become, and I wouldn’t have wanted things to turn out any other way. He’s my kid brother, part of my awesome bloodline, and I’m proud that I helped shape him into who he is today.”

Prussia’s expression softened as memories flashed through his mind: Germany as a tiny kid barely reaching his leg, as a grumpy teenager, and now as a strong nation.

“And hey,” he added with a loop-sided grin, “I’m not entirely out of the picture. I still represent the eastern side of Germany, even if the land isn’t technically mine anymore. Plus, West lets me handle the affairs on that side, so it’s not so bad. I’m content."

"That's… that's a really nice way of looking at things..." Romano said quietly. He stared at Prussia with wide, almost dazed eyes. There was something close to admiration in his gaze. But after a moment, his eyes dropped and he looked away. "Only you could take something like jealousy and turn it into something good... I don’t know how you manage to stay so positive when the world doesn’t always treat you the same way." he let out a quiet breath and mumbled, almost to himself, "You really are awesome...”

At those words, the red-eyed man blinked, his heart skipping a beat. He swallowed hard, trying to calm the sudden rush in his chest, but it was no use. His pulse was racing, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t steady it.

Awesome.

He repeated the word in his mind, like it was something foreign, something he’d never heard before, even though that wasn’t true since he often said it to himself. Yet, for some reason, hearing it from Romano made it feel far more meaningful than if Prussia had chanted it to himself a thousand times.

The white-haired man cleared his throat, a bit awkwardly. “Heh, well… it’s really just a choice between being happy or being miserable, and I’ve never been one for brooding. I’d rather spend my immortality making good memories than waste it being upset and looking back with regret years down the line.”

"You’re right…” Romano said softly, nodding. “I don’t want to look back someday and remember resenting Veneziano for something that isn’t even his fault... something he has no control over, and be stuck with that regret.” he paused, his voice dropping. “I already regret it. It'll probably kill me in the future...” he let out a quiet sigh. “But I don’t know how to get rid of this jealousy. My situation isn’t the same as yours, so I can’t just do what you did.” his gaze shifted back to Prussia. “So… how can I get rid of it? How do I stop feeling this suffocating jealousy?”

Prussia blinked at the statement, then let out a small, thoughtful hum. “I think…” he began, drawing the word out slightly. "I think the real problem is how you see yourself. You’re way too hard on yourself, and honestly, you don’t need to be. You’ve built up this idea in your head that you’re full of flaws, but you’re not." he said with a nod. "You know what you should do? Talk to little Italy. Ask him what he really thinks of you. Ask if he thinks he’s better than you. I’ll bet anything he’ll say no. In fact, he’ll probably tell you he looks up to you. Once you hear it from him, maybe then you’ll realize you’ve been holding onto this false idea that you’re somehow worse than him."

Then, as if struck by inspiration, Prussia’s eyes lit up. “Actually, you should ask everyone you know what they think of you. Hearing it from all of them might help you finally let go of that false image in your head. I’m serious! Most of them will have something good to say. You might even be surprised!" he exclaimed, then pointed at himself with a confident grin. “And you can start with me!”

Hearing his words, South Italy appeared somewhat taken aback. He glanced sideways uncertainly before meeting Prussia’s gaze, only to quickly look away again, a faint flush creeping onto his cheeks. “That’s stupid…” he muttered quietly, causing the smile on the German’s face to waver. Maybe it really was a dumb idea... damn it. Prussia was about to dismiss it quickly, but before he could, Romano spoke again, his voice a bit shaky. “S-so, what do you think of me?” he asked, the last words spilling out a bit hurriedly, as if eager to get it over with. His eyes were locked firmly on the carpet beneath him, as if trying to burn holes through it.

Hearing that, the smile returned to the red-eyed man’s face. “I think you’re amazing. Seriously. Even the things you see as flaws? I don’t see them that way at all,” he said with a light laugh. “I especially like your attitude. You might not think it’s very likable, but I do. You stand your ground, and I find that really awesome! Plus, your insults are pretty funny, haha.” he continued. "I also like how determined you are when you set your mind to something! That’s a great quality. And you’re a lot of fun. I really enjoy hanging out with you!”

He paused for a beat, then added with exaggerated seriousness. "Also, your cooking? I don’t know what magic you use, but it tastes like heaven. You have to cook for me again." he said with a firm nod, gesturing toward Romano to make his point.

"And I really appreciate how thoughtful you are, and—”

He didn’t get to finish. Romano had turned his head to look at him, and the words caught in his throat.

The Italian's expression was caught somewhere between embarrassment and surprise, but his hazel eyes—oh, his hazel eyes—they practically gleamed. Maybe they really did. Either way, Prussia found himself completely mesmerized. There was something about those eyes that pulled him in every time, and once he looked into them, he couldn’t seem to look away.

Before he even realized what he was saying, the words slipped out. "And... I really like your eyes. They’re... pretty.”

Romano blinked, clearly caught off guard, a flicker of confusion crossing his face. But within seconds, his expression shifted into one of pure shock.

The moment he saw the expression on the Italian’s face, Prussia realized what he’d just said. His cheeks turned bright red as he rushed to explain himself. "Wait—I mean, they’re just really hazel, which is a pretty rare color, statistically speaking. But—uh—they are pretty, I guess, but that’s not what I meant! I mean… it is, but not like that—ugh, wait—crap—”

Fuck.

Prussia wanted to facepalm himself for his own stupidity. He opened his mouth to speak, hoping to somehow salvage the situation, but before he could get a single word out, Romano grabbed the nearest pillow from the bed and shoved his face into it, muffling whatever sound came out of his throat.

Seeing that only made the former nation panic even more. “Scheiße! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to—uh—I mean, I did, but not like—Ugh!” Prussia ran a hand through his hair in frustration, his voice fading into a defeated groan. What the hell was wrong with him? Way to mess up an emotional moment! Auggh! Why did he have to get so distracted by Romano’s eyes?! From now on, he might as well wear a blindfold to keep himself from blurting out stupid stuff like that!

Before the red-eyed man could continue mentally reprimanding himself, he noticed the Southern nation's hands trembling slightly as they gripped the pillow. In an instant, his frustration with himself shifted into concern for the other man.

"Hey," he said gently. "Are you ok?"

There was a small sniffle. The German froze.

"Romano?" he said again, softer this time. Are you... are you crying?"

"No." came the muffled voice from the pillow, stubborn and shaky.

Prussia blinked, his concern instantly intensifying. But then he paused. This... didn’t feel the same as before. Romano wasn’t crying from sadness like he had a few days ago, when his sobs had been, quite literally, guttural. Now, his crying was softer... almost as if he was relieved.

Oh..!

Prussia let out a quiet sigh, trying to steady himself. Then he leaned forward and gently reached for the edge of the pillow Romano was gripping like his life depended on it.

"Can I have this?" he asked, fingers hovering above the fabric.

The older Italian muttered something unintelligible but didn’t protest. Taking it as permission, Prussia gently peeled the pillow away and placed it on the floor beside them.

Romano’s brows were slightly furrowed, his face flushed, cheeks puffed out and eyes watery. "This is... so embarrassing." he muttered, avoiding the albino’s gaze.

Prussia simply smiled in response with a hint of amusement. He gently pulled the brunette into a hug, giving him the chance to pull away, but Romano didn’t. Instead, he leaned in and quietly wrapped his arms around Prussia, letting out a soft exhale.

They stayed like that for a while, how long, Prussia couldn’t say, and honestly, he didn’t care. He felt content, knowing he had helped shift Romano’s view of himself, even if just a little. And maybe, just maybe, he was also a bit happy to be this close to him… but that was another story.

Anyway, as I was saying, they remained in each other’s embrace until the Italian finally pulled away.

Romano wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, a faint smile tugging at his lips, one that didn’t escape the German’s notice. After all the sadness and gloom the Southern nation had been wrapped in, Prussia had started to miss seeing that smile.

"Finally, you're smiling!" the former nation exclaimed, his own face breaking into a wide grin.

Romano rolled his eyes in response, but the smile tugging at his lips only grew, no matter how hard he tried to fight it. His gaze shifted to the side, landing on the pillow on the floor, and without a moment's hesitation, he grabbed it and smacked Prussia right in the face.

The former nation toppled backward, but he didn’t mind. In fact, he found Romano’s reaction quite funny.

The dark-haired brunette pushed himself up with a grunt, straightening his back. “Ugh, my back. Why did we ever think sitting on the floor was a good idea?”

Prussia raised a hand to his head, ruffling his white hair, then shrugged from the floor. “No idea.”

The Southern nation let out a huff before flopping onto the bed like a starfish. He lay there for a moment, staring up at the ceiling, then turned his head to glance at the large, overstuffed bookcase in the room. His eyes landed on a shelf filled with what looked like CDs. Pointing toward them, he remarked, "You’ve got a lot of CDs. Do you like collecting movies or something?”

At Romano's words, the Prussian stood up and followed his gaze, then shook his head with a small smile. “Those aren’t CDs. They’re Blu-ray video games,” he explained. He walked over to the bookcase, opened one of the glass doors, and carefully took out a game. Closing the door behind him, he made his way over to Romano and held the case above his head. “See?” he said, giving it a light shake for emphasis.

Romano narrowed his eyes slightly, blinking as he tilted his head for a better look. “Huh…” he murmured. “You’re really into video games..."

"Ja! They're super fun!" Prussia said with an eager nod. "Don’t tell me you don’t agree!"

"Eh, I haven’t played many video games, so I can’t really say." the hazel-eyed man replied with a shrug.

"Huh?! Seriously?!” the German exclaimed, clearly shocked. “You really don’t play video games?”

"What’s so surprising about that? I’ve just never found them interesting, so I never got into them,” Romano replied calmly, letting out a sigh. "Besides, I have plenty of other things to do than just sit in front of a computer screen."

"You’re totally missing out!” Prussia exclaimed. He glanced over at his gaming desk, then back at Romano, a sudden idea sparking in his mind. Holding the game in one hand, he suddenly grabbed Romano’s arm with the other and pulled him out of bed.

"Hey—ow! What are you doing?" Romano yelped, startled.

"I’m about to change your life!” Prussia said confidently, without explaining further. He led the dark-haired brunette to his gaming desk, helped him settle into the chair, and inserted the game disc into the drive. Then, the albino opened the computer, and the screen lit up with the brand’s logo.

"Um…?” Romano blinked in confusion. He turned to Prussia to ask what was going on, but before he could speak, the former nation headed toward the door and waved his hand dismissively.

"I’ll be right back!” he called out as he hurried out of the room. Exactly, five seconds later, he returned, carrying a kitchen chair over his head as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Without saying a word, the German placed the chair next to Romano and sat down.

"Oh! It loaded! Great!" Prussia said happily, sliding the keyboard closer to himself and entering the password.

The Southern nation glanced between the keyboard and the screen, then raised an eyebrow. “Your password is ‘West1871’?” he asked.

Prussia nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah! That’s when my kid brother was born!” he said proudly.

Romano blinked and then offered a small, faint smile. “That’s nice…”

Prussia finished setting up the computer and slid the keyboard and mouse over to Romano. “Here,” he said. “This is one of my favorite games—a fighting-style game with cool swords, armor, guns, and bombs. It’s really fun! I’m max level!” he said excitedly, but then his expression grew thoughtful. “Though I did lose some exp a few days ago because my character died. I thought I’d paused the game, but maybe I forgot,” he admitted, prompting a slightly guilty look from Romano, who might have been the reason Prussia’s character died that day. “But that doesn’t matter! Let me teach you how to play!”

He leaned forward, pointing at the screen. “Okay, this is your character. Use WASD to move, left click to attack, right click to block, and space to jump. Easy, right?” he explained, glancing at Romano, who looked between the screen and keyboard with uncertain eyes before nodding slowly. “Great! There are some awesome combos too, but I’ll show you those as you play. Now, just go over to that guy, he’s an NPC, and hit him with the sword in your inventory bar."

Romano frowned with determination, gripping the mouse a bit too tightly. He placed his other hand on the keyboard and quickly took down the NPC with a satisfying “whoosh,” watching as it disappeared in a puff of digital smoke.

Romano stared for a moment, then tilted his head to the side. "That was fairly easy."

"Yup!” Prussia said with a smug grin. “My character’s super OP, so everything’s a breeze!” he shifted in his chair before pointing at the screen. “Alright, now head over to that glowing marker on the map, that’s a quest.” he added, “To start it, you need to talk to the guy with the exclamation point above his head.”

"Bene (Alright)," Romano said as he followed Prussia’s instructions. They went through a few simple quests—delivering items, defeating enemies, and even protecting a cart. Surprisingly, Romano seemed to enjoy the game and was starting to get into it. After a few more minutes of fighting, he asked, “Didn’t you say this game had guns?”

“Oh, yeah, totally,” Prussia said. “But I like using swords more. They’re way more awesome." he explained. "Still, if you want a gun, here," he said, opening the inventory, scrolling through the extensive collection of weapons, and equipping a sleek, futuristic-looking rifle to the character.

Romano fired a shot at a distant NPC to test the rifle. The blast pushed the target back, and the recoil caused the screen to jolt slightly.

"...Okay, this is definitely better,” the Italian said, a small grin tugging at his lips.

Prussia simply laughed in response.

Romano leaned back a little, his eyes still fixed on the screen. “Do you usually play this thing by yourself?”

The German paused briefly, then reached over and took the mouse from Romano. “Sometimes. But most of the time, I play with my friends." he opened the in-game friends list and showed it to Romano. Several usernames appeared, some online and some offline.

“Spain and France play with me sometimes,” he said, pointing out their usernames. “Though Spain just runs around healing people, and France spends more time customizing his character’s outfits than actually fighting. I also play with America. He's way better than me at video games. The kid’s crazy. Hungary plays too, but that’s pretty rare since she’s usually busy. Still, it’s fun when she does. And… on very rare occasions, with West. But he sucks, haha. You’re already better than him, and you just started playing."

Hearing that, Romano’s face twisted into a satisfied grin, clearly pleased to be better than Germany at something.

Prussia glanced at the Southern nation, then leaned on the desk, resting his face in the palm of his hand with a warm smile. “You should get the game and make an account. We could play together,” he suggested, then added after a brief pause. “Only if you want, though.”

Romano looked back at the screen, then at Prussia, and gave a small nod. “Okay. I will.”

Prussia blinked, then broke into a wide grin. “Awesome!” he exclaimed, raising his fist in the air, prompting an eye roll from the dark-haired brunette.

They kept playing and talking between quests, just having fun, and time slipped by so quickly that it was nearly midnight before either of them noticed. But neither seemed to care. At one point, Prussia leaned back in his chair and watched Romano as he kept playing, a quiet warmth blooming in his chest. He truly hoped the things he’d said had helped Romano see that he was a good person. He wanted him to stop being so hard on himself and start thinking more kindly. More than anything, he wanted to see him smile… God, he loved seeing him smile.

Ah, Prussia wasn’t sure what to do with all these feelings.

Chapter Text

When Romano woke up the next morning, he felt good. Really good. Better than he had in a long time. It wasn’t like he hadn’t felt good the past few days... spending time with Prussia had been nice. But now, after the conversation they’d had last night, he felt even better than before.

He felt light. Like a heavy weight had finally been taken off his shoulders. A weight he had carried for so long that he didn’t even realize how heavy it was until it was gone. And honestly, that was kind of true. A burden really had been lifted off his shoulders—the thoughts that he wasn’t good enough, that he was a failure, that no matter what he did, he’d never measure up to his brother.

Those thoughts had been stuck in his head for what felt like forever. Romano never thought he’d be free of them. He’d gotten used to them, accepted them, believed they’d always be part of him. But somehow, with just a few honest words Prussia had managed to tear all of them apart. And now they were gone. And in their place, Romano felt peace.

It was a strange feeling (probably because he hadn’t felt it in a long time), but it was strange in a good type of way.

Prussia had helped him see things he’d been too stubborn to notice. For months, Romano had been stuck in his own head, blinded by his own self-hate. But now… now he could see a bit more clearly. And for the first time in ages, he actually liked himself.

And for that, he was extremely thankful to the former nation.

If it hadn’t been for Prussia, his self-hatred probably would’ve gotten worse, and he likely would’ve lost his mind completely. But because of him, he was going to be okay.

And the thing was... the German hadn’t done it because he wanted something in return. He hadn’t done it to look like a hero or to make Romano owe him anything. He helped simply because he cared. Because he genuinely liked Romano, not the version Romano thought he had to be—a copy of his brother, but the real him. With all the flaws, the moods, and everything in between. Prussia had even said he liked Romano more than Veneziano. He actually said that. More than once! He helped because he wanted to. Because he was, well, awesome.

It made Romano’s heart feel full. Everything Prussia had said, done, and just him, exactly as he was, filled Romano with a warmth he couldn’t explain. More than that, it made his insides feel soft and mushy, like jelly, and left him wanting nothing more than to stay close to the former nation.

He’d probably thought this before, but he still couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that he used to hate Prussia. That he’d refused to spend time with him. Looking back, he really should’ve given him a chance. But better late than never. They were friends now, and that was what mattered. That thought alone made Romano happy.

Speaking of happy, that’s exactly how Romano felt right now.

The Italian swung his legs off the bed, Prussia’s bed, to be exact, then stood up and stretched his sore limbs, feeling well-rested after a good night’s sleep.

Yes, he’d slept in the former nation’s bed. In fact, he’d been sleeping in it for the past few days. At this point, he was spending more time in Prussia’s room than in his own. It was kind of weird, he knew this wasn’t exactly what normal friends did, but he didn’t care. He liked being there more than being alone in the guest room, and Prussia didn’t seem to mind either, so it worked out for both of them.

Still, Romano couldn’t help but feel a little guilty. Prussia had been sleeping on that small, uncomfortable-looking couch the whole time. Even if he kept insisting it wasn’t that bad, Romano had his doubts. But what could they do? It’s not like they could just share the bed… right?

Actually… that idea didn’t sound so terrible to Romano.

Anyway.

The two of them had stayed up way too late playing video games and had passed out sometime in the middle of the night. Romano was surprised to find that he genuinely enjoyed it. He used to think video games were a waste of time, something people played when they were bored and had nothing better to do. But now he realized they were actually pretty fun.

Though, he figured a lot of that had to do with who he was playing with. If it had been France instead of Prussia, Romano was sure he’d have smashed his head against the keyboard just to put himself out of his misery.

Either way, he was definitely going to buy the game so he could keep playing with Prussia.

At that thought, a faint smile crossed the Italian’s face. He rubbed the last traces of sleep from his eyes, then glanced around the dark room, hoping to spot a certain red-eyed albino. The idea of talking to him filled Romano with growing excitement. But the feeling quickly fizzled when he realized Prussia was nowhere to be found.

"Huh..." he murmured, lightly furrowing his brows as he brought a hand to his face in thought. Prussia usually waited for him to wake up and greeted him with an enthusiastic, 'Good morning'. But this time, the ex-nation was simply gone. Had Romano overslept?

At that, the dark-haired brunette glanced around in search of a clock, only to remember that Prussia didn’t have one in his room. With a sigh, he reached for his phone, then paused, realizing he’d left it upstairs in his own room.

Oof. He was way too disorganized.

Romano sighed and shook his head at his own messiness before walking over to the former nation’s desk, where his computer sat. He turned it on, and the screen lit up, displaying the time: 12:51 PM

The Italian's eyes widened slightly. Wow. He really had slept in. It was way later than he thought.

"Damn…" Romano mumbled, shutting off the computer and running a hand through his hair. Well, that explained why Prussia wasn’t around. He’d probably gotten tired of waiting, especially since he had a habit of waking up ridiculously early, and left to get some work done or something.

Romano was definitely taking advantage of the fact that he could sleep as much as he wanted now. Sure, it was good he was getting rest, but he really needed to fix his sleep schedule. Waking up at a decent hour, like 8 AM, would be a start. Once he had to go back to work, there was no way he'd be able to handle the early mornings if he kept this up.

Romano scrunched his face in displeasure at the thought of work but quickly pushed it aside, making a mental note to deal with it later. He was still on vacation, after all, and he wasn’t about to let work ruin his mood just yet.

With a renewed determination to find Prussia, Romano headed for the door. He opened it slowly and shut it just as carefully, doing his best not to make a sound. Moving quietly, he crept up the stairs and paused at the top, glancing down the hallway in both directions to make sure the coast was clear. The last thing he wanted was to get caught sneaking out of Prussia’s room. What would he even say? Yeah, I’ve been sleeping in Prussia’s room… in his bed. Ugh. Absolutely not. How humiliating.

Romano shook his head and quickly banished the thought. He wasn’t about to let himself get all embarrassed so early... well, late in the morning... or better put, afternoon. Taking a deep breath, he squared his shoulders and made his way down the hallway into the living area.

He’d expected some noise, especially given the late hour. Maybe Veneziano chattering away, Prussia matching his volume (or one-upping it), and Germany… well, doing whatever it was that Germany did. But to his surprise, the room was strangely quiet. Practically deserted.

And by deserted, he meant there wasn’t a single soul in sight.

Romano tilted his head slightly, puzzled, before making his way into the kitchen. But just like the living room, it was empty.

Why was it that every time he woke up, this house was completely abandoned?

"Ugh..." the Southern nation muttered, rubbing a hand over his face in frustration at not finding the former nation. Without wasting another second, he spun on his heel and headed back down the hallway, reaching the stairs and rushing up them two steps at a time.

Once he reached the top, he slowed his pace as the floor let out a grating creak beneath his feet. He passed a few doors leading to rooms he’d never bothered entering before until he finally stopped at the one leading to Prussia’s... other room. Could it really be called that, though? The ex-nation hardly ever used it. Still, Romano vaguely remembered him mentioning it once, so he supposed he’d just go along with it.

The door was already ajar. Carefully, Romano peeked inside.

Unlike the flashy, overdecorated room downstairs that practically screamed 'Prussia', this space was smaller, simpler, and looked mostly untouched. The only signs it was used at all were a few personal touches like a poster on the wall and a small Prussian flag hanging by the window.

But Prussia wasn’t here either.

Romano frowned. Where the hell could that guy have gone?

Romano paused for a moment, lost in thought, but didn’t get far before the sound of a door opening nearby made him jump. He quickly turned his head and saw Germany stepping out of his room, holding a laptop in one hand and what looked like a pair of glasses in the other. At first, Germany didn’t notice him since his gaze was fixed downward, but when he finally looked up, he froze mid-step and blinked in surprise at the sight of Romano.

"Oh," the blond man said, looking mildly startled, as if he hadn’t expected to run into Romano. For a moment, it seemed like he was about to give a small wave, but with both hands full, he gave up on the idea. Instead, he offered a hesitant, "Good… er—" he glanced at the clock on the wall, then back at Romano. "Afternoon." he finished.

He tried to smile, or at least Romano assumed that's what it was supposed to be. It was hard to tell. The expression looked too stiff and strained, though that might’ve just been how Germany’s face naturally was.

Romano stayed quiet, momentarily forgetting he was supposed to respond. He just stared at Germany until the German’s gaze shifted between him and Prussia’s room, his expression turning thoughtful. That snapped Romano out of his daze.

His hazel eyes darted nervously from Germany to the open door. Without thinking, he quickly grabbed the handle and slammed the door shut. He took a step back and crossed his arms awkwardly.

"The… uh… the door was open," he stammered, his voice wavering. "I just wanted to close it…" he gave a small nod and made a clumsy gesture, mimicking the act of closing a door, before crossing his arms again.

Germany didn’t reply, which made Romano feel even more awkward. He cleared his throat and tried to change the subject. "Anyway… um, morning," he blurted out, attempting to be polite before realizing it was actually afternoon. "I mean… afternoon!" he added, a bit too loudly, then immediately slapped a hand to his face. "Good afternoon…" he mumbled, cringing inside.

God, what was wrong with him?

"Right." Germany responded flatly.

Romano took a sharp breath, let his hand fall, and stared down at the floor, avoiding the less-than-pleasant expression on Germany’s face.

Good job Romano! Way to go! Your social skills are truly one of a kind! (His social skills sucked, and he was never going to forget the awkwardness of this moment in his life)

And now there was an uncomfortable silence between them. Great. Just what was needed to make things even more awkward.

Seriously, how was Prussia, who was so effortlessly good at conversation, related to this guy? Even when Romano tried to be nice instead of cursing him out, Germany was awkward as hell and managed to make everything uncomfortable for Romano too.

Damn this.

The Italian really needed to get out of here, or he was going to die from the awkwardness. Literally

He shifted slightly, ready to bolt to his own room, but before he could take a step, Germany spoke up.

"If… you’re looking for my brother, he went out a while ago to take his... well, bird out. He should be back soon." he said slowly, as if unsure how to explain it.

The dark-haired brunette halted abruptly and turned to face Germany, a hint of surprise flickering across his expression.

"I—I’m not looking for, uh…" Romano stammered, waving his hands dismissively as his face flushed. He wasn’t even sure why he felt so embarrassed—there was nothing embarrassing about wanting to see Prussia—but his mind and body didn’t seem to agree. "I was just, um—" he struggled to find an explanation, ending up muttering half-formed words that made no sense at all.

Fortunately, Germany interrupted him before he could stumble over his words any further. "Alright, I apologize for the assumption," he said with a sigh. "But... just in case you are, just know he’ll be back soon."

Romano just stared at him, ready to argue, but then thought better of it and gave a slow nod. "Okay," he said quietly, then added almost as an afterthought, "Thanks…"

He waited for the other man to respond, but Germany remained silent, so Romano took that as his cue to end the conversation. Without another word, he began walking quickly toward his room. However, he didn’t make it inside, just as he passed Germany, Veneziano stepped out of the room he shared with the blonde and gasped at the sight of Romano.

"Fratello?!" the younger Italian exclaimed, surprise etched across his face as he stared at Romano, causing the dark-haired man to take a small step back. "Germany, why didn’t you tell me Romano was awake?" Veneziano turned to his boyfriend with a faint pout. "You know I’ve been waiting for him to wake up!" he added, earning a slight shrug from the German.

Without missing a beat, Veneziano spun back around and practically launched himself into Romano’s personal space, grabbing his arm with enthusiasm and giving him a gentle shake.

"Romano, I’m so glad you’re finally awake!" Veneziano said cheerfully. "I wanted to ask if I could borrow one of your shirts, but you were still asleep, so… I kinda just took one—" As he spoke, Romano’s eyes dropped to his brother’s outfit, confirming that, yes, he was wearing one of his shirts. "—I hope you’re not mad or anything! But if you are, you can borrow one of mine to make it fair!" Veneziano added brightly, gesturing toward his room with an enthusiastic grin.

The Southern nation felt slightly disoriented by his brother's flood of words... it was far too much for someone who had only woken up a few minutes ago. He blinked, then gave his head a small shake. "It's fine," he said, glancing once more at the shirt Veneziano was wearing before looking back at him. It wasn’t like this was the first time Veneziano had borrowed his clothes. He did it often. Then again, Romano wasn’t exactly innocent either. He had a habit of borrowing his brother’s things, too. Maybe it was just a sibling thing.

"Aaaa! How nice!" North Italy beamed, somehow growing even more cheerful as he released Romano’s arm and clasped his hands together. “Now that that’s settled, how did you sleep?"

"Good." the older Italian replied simply, offering no further explanation. Anyone else might have found the lack of detail frustrating, but his brother wasn’t just anyone. He knew Romano like the back of his hand, so instead of getting annoyed, he just smiled brightly.

"I'm so happy to hear that!" Veneziano replied with a happy bounce, like an excited child, before letting out a relieved sigh. "It’s such a good thing that you’re finally catching up on all the sleep you missed. Knowing you're sleeping peacefully and getting over eight hours a night really puts my mind at ease," he added, placing a hand over his chest. "Though, try to wake up a little earlier, okay? I don’t think our boss will be too pleased if you show up at work at 1 PM on a Monday!"

Hearing that, Romano’s expression tightened into a slight frown. "Don’t remind me," he muttered quietly. "I really don’t want to think about the mountain of work waiting for us when we get back."

"Yeah, honestly, I feel the same," the light-haired brunette said with a small laugh, waving his hand dismissively. "It’s always a bit frustrating to go back to Italy for work after spending time in Germany and, well, slacking off. But it’s not all bad! There’s something comforting about coming back home to the place I know, where my people are. That familiar feeling is really nice, don’t you think so too, fratello?"

At that, Romano’s frown softened just a bit, and he gave a brief nod. "Yeah, I guess you’re right..." he said slowly. Despite the annoyance of returning to work, he genuinely loved his country and his people. Returning back to his homeland was a liberating feeling, one he was certain only a nation could truly understand.

He wondered if Prussia felt the same way when he traveled and returned to Germany. Prussia had mentioned that the lands weren’t truly his anymore, but since they had once been his, he must still find some measure of comfort in coming back home. After all, he was still a nation, albeit an ex-nation, but the point still remained.

Honestly, it made Romano feel a bit sad to think that the older German had lost everything. Even though Prussia claimed it didn’t bother him, that he was content quietly representing Eastern Germany and proud of his brother for taking over and doing well, Romano couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. It had to be a terrible feeling to go from being someone of great importance to just a page in a history book. He could only imagine how gut-wrenching it must be for a nation to be dissolved, yet continue living as if nothing had happened. Many nations had vanished after their dissolution, unable to bear the pain and simply giving up. Forgetting also played a role. Dissolved nations were often forgotten because they made no effort to be remembered, and that, too, led to their disappearance.

The thought left a bitter taste in Romano’s mouth. Just imagining Prussia disappearing made his chest ache. But from what he’d seen, Prussia wasn’t someone who gave up easily, and he definitely wasn’t the type to be forgotten. He always made sure his presence was known. There was no real reason to worry… yet Romano couldn’t help but worry anyway.

Concern flickered across the Italian’s face as he unconsciously clenched his fists. He found himself wondering if Prussia ever worried about it too. He always acted cheerful and confident, but deep down, the fear of fading away had to be there. Romano had never thought about it before... he’d never really stopped to consider the former nation's feelings or much about him at all. But now that he did, he couldn’t help but feel a pang of pain for the other man.

Romano was so lost in thought he didn’t notice when his lips parted and the older German’s name slipped out. "Prussia..." But before he could process it, Veneziano’s voice cut in, speaking over him.

"Prussia?" the younger Italian echoed, a hint of confusion in his voice as he tilted his head. He blinked a few times, trying to make sense of what Romano had said, before his expression lit up with understanding. "Ah! He went out!" he said brightly, giving a small nod. The words pulled the Southern nation out of his thoughts, and he turned toward his brother with a perplexed look in his eyes.

"Huh? What?"

"Prussia? He went out a while ago. Didn’t Germany already tell you?" Veneziano said, raising an eyebrow before turning to his lover, who stood awkwardly nearby, glancing between the two halves of Italy with furrowed brows. "Germany, why didn’t you tell my brother that Prussia had gone out?"

"I did, though..." the blue-eyed man responded slowly.

"Eh? Really?" Veneziano asked, then quickly turned back to Romano, making him jump in surprise. "Then why did you ask me about him?"

At that, Romano quickly waved his hands in a dismissive gesture. "I didn’t!" he exclaimed hurriedly. "His name just slipped out!" he tried to offer a reasonable explanation for randomly mentioning Prussia’s name, but it ended up sounding... well, awkward.

"Uh, his name slipped out?" Veneziano repeated, looking puzzled.

"No! I mean, yes, but not in that sense..." Romano tried to explain, but only ended up sounding more awkward.

Damn it, Romano! First, he was overthinking about himself, and now he was doing the same with Prussia. What was wrong with him? He needed to get his mind out of the gutter! Prussia was going to be fine, he’d said so himself, so there was no reason for Romano to dwell on his struggles and feel sad. He had to pull himself together and stop spiraling into negative thoughts!

"What sense?" Veneziano asked abruptly.

"Uh... it’s just... you know..." the Southern nation murmured, feeling his cheeks flush. Ah! What the hell was he even saying?!

At his words, Veneziano shook his head slightly. "I don’t know." he said, making Romano want to smack himself in the face. The more he talked, the deeper he dug himself into trouble. He really should just shut up. Also, why was Veneziano rubbing salt in the wound? He was probably genuinely confused about what Romano was stumbling over, but still, he could take the hint and stop pressing! Damn it, Veneziano! And why was Germany still here? Didn’t he have better things to do than just hover around Veneziano?

The Southern half of Italy frowned, fighting the urge to bang his head against the nearest wall. "It’s... it’s nothing!" he finally exclaimed, crossing his hands in an ‘X’ to emphasize his point. But his brother didn’t seem convinced, raising a curious eyebrow instead.

"It can’t possibly be nothing if it’s got you all panicking like this." the younger Italian said.

"I’m not panicking!" Romano shot back quickly. "Where did you even get that from? I’m completely calm!" he practically shouted.

"Uh, fratello... you’re yelling." Veneziano pointed out with a bit of concern. "I don’t think that counts as being calm."

Romano opened his mouth to argue, but then realized it was true, he wasn’t calm, and there was no point in denying it. After a few strained "ums," he finally grew tired of his own rambling and blurted out, "Ugh! You know what? It doesn’t matter! I said something totally random, so just forget about it, okay?!" Then, added with a huff, "Also, give me my shirt back! I’m not letting you borrow it anymore!" With that, he spun around and dashed to his room.

"Huh?! Aspetta, perché?! (Wait, why?!)" Veneziano exclaimed, his face twisting in surprise as he watched Romano rush to his room and clumsily try to push the door open, only to stumble and bump into it instead.

"Augh! Che diavolo?!" Romano yelled, looking like he was moments away from tearing the door apart.

"Fratello, you’re supposed to pull the door open, not push it..." the Northern nation said gently, trying not to frustrate his brother further, but it didn’t help, as Romano shot him a glare before yanking the door open.

"I knew that!" he shouted, slamming the door behind him. The sound echoed sharply through the hallway.

The noise made Veneziano wince. "Oof, fratello..." he muttered under his breath, then sighed and shook his head softly.

"Well, he seemed to be in... high spirits." Germany said.

Veneziano turned to his boyfriend and leaned into him slightly. "I think I might’ve hit a nerve there..." he paused for a moment. "Though honestly, I have no idea what I said to make him so upset!"

"Maybe he’s just cranky from sleeping too long," Germany said gently. "It’s already 1 in the afternoon, and oversleeping often leads to irritability." he wanted to put an arm around his boyfriend to comfort him, but his hands were full. So, he quickly put on his glasses, freed one hand, and wrapped it around Veneziano, who welcomed the gesture gratefully.

"Maybe... but he’s not usually this irritable, even when he sleeps a lot. In fact, I’m pretty sure the more sleep he gets, the better he acts!" the Northern nation said.

"Well then, I guess he’s just moody today," Germany concluded, then added quietly, "Though, when isn’t he moody?"

"Hey!" Veneziano exclaimed, looking up at his boyfriend with a mock-disapproving expression. "Romano isn’t usually moody, he just expresses himself differently, and that’s totally okay!" his face then grew more serious. "You shouldn’t judge someone for being different, that’s really unfair!" he added with a pout, earning a small smile from the Germanic nation.

"Ok, ok, I'm sorry," the blonde apologized. "Romano is great, how's that?"

Hearing that, Veneziano's expression brightened, his pout disappearing instantly. "Much better!" he said with a cheerful grin. "Romano really is the best brother I could’ve asked for!" he then pointed at Germany. "You have a brother too, so I’m sure you understand!"

"I can't argue with that." the blue-eyed man admitted.

Veneziano nodded with determination, then his face softened into a thoughtful expression. "Hm…" he hummed, furrowing his brows just a little. "Now that I think about it, maybe it has something to do with Prussia…" he said suddenly, drawing a surprised yet approving look from Germany. "Romano only started getting panicky when I mentioned him…"

"That could be a possibility..." the German said slowly. "Though, why would he get so tense at the mention of mein Bruder? I thought they were... well, friends now."

"They are! I mean, why else would Romano go to Prussia every night?" Veneziano said, prompting a strained look from the other man.

"Please don’t bring that up," he said, shaking his head. "I’ve been trying to ignore it and not get involved since it’s not really my business, but it’s hard when it keeps being thrown in my face. I have to physically hold myself back from going to mein Bruder and asking all the questions I have."

At that, North Italy chuckled softly. "Yeah, me too, honestly," he said with a smile. "I really want to know all the details, haha!" his tone then softened. "Since Romano started being friends with Prussia, he’s been so much happier… He smiles more, and for the first time, he actually likes your country. He’s even been more polite to you, Germany. That honestly makes me happy... knowing he’s happy." he paused, voice gentle. "My poor fratello was sad and down for a long time, so I’m relieved to see him like this…"

"Yeah, me too," Germany agreed. "And since we’re on the subject… Prussia has been much happier lately as well," he admitted. "I don’t know what they talk about or what exactly they do, but it seems to have a positive effect on him."

"Yeah, every time I see Prussia with Romano, he has this... hmm, what’s the right word?" Veneziano paused, thinking for a moment before snapping his fingers. "Ah, infatuated! That’s it," he exclaimed. "Prussia always looks completely infatuated when he’s with mio fratello!"

"Infatuated…?" Germany said with surprise. "Would you really call it that?" he asked, though he didn’t seem entirely doubtful. In fact, he appeared to be leaning toward Veneziano’s view, asking more out of curiosity than disbelief.

"Sì! It’s a very distinctive look," he said with a grin, then added. "Besides, I’d know, because he totally reminds me of you and the way you used to look at me before we started dating!"

At that, Germany nearly choked on his own breath. "I didn’t look at you in any way other than with professionalism for my fellow ally..." the blonde said, clearing his throat, though the slight color in his cheeks betrayed him.

"Are you sure? Because I remember differently!" Veneziano teased, his words practically sing-song.

The blue-eyed man let out a huff and then drew the Northern nation closer, hiding his embarrassed face against him.

"Hehe, Germany’s embarrassed!” Veneziano laughed, playfully poking his boyfriend, who simply rolled his eyes in response.

As they stood there, a thought struck the light-haired brunette. He couldn’t help but notice how much Prussia’s behavior toward Romano reminded him of how Germany used to act around him, years ago, before they’d started dating

Now that he gave it some thought, it was almost as if Prussia was... he didn't want to jump to conclusions, but this seemed like the most plausible explanation... in love with Romano. And Romano, in turn, appeared to feel the same way about Prussia, especially considering his strange reactions whenever the topic of the former nation came up. He would get visibly embarrassed, stumble over his words, and sometimes even snap...

"Huh…" North Italy murmured, eyes widening slightly in realization as the hand he’d been jabbing Germany with slowly dropped to his side.

"What is it?" Germany asked, noticing the sudden change in his boyfriend’s demeanor.

"I think I just found out the answer to Romano's outburst." the light-haired brunette confessed, his voice tinged with slight astonishment.

"Oh, really?" the Germanic nation said, pulling away from Veneziano and gazing at him with a mixture of confusion and curiosity. "So, what's up with him?"

"I’ll tell you later," Veneziano said with a smile. "But first, you should finish your work. It’s almost lunchtime, and I’m pretty sure you’ll get annoyed if you don’t finish it before evening."

"Ah, yes," the German exhaled. "My work..." his eyes flicked to the laptop in his other hand, then back to Veneziano. "I completely forgot about it," he murmured before sighing. "You’re right. I should get it done now. If I keep putting it off, it’s only going to give me a headache."

A brief look of exhaustion crossed his face before he shook it off, leaned down, and placed a quick kiss on the younger Italian’s lips.

"I’m off now. You go talk to your brother, and do let me know if you find out anything more about this whole situation," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "Honestly, I’m pretty curious, and if I don’t hear it from them, I’m going to hear it from you."

At his words, Veneziano chuckled softly. "Alright, haha, good luck with your work!" he said, waving goodbye to his boyfriend, who smiled back warmly.

"Thanks," the German said before turning on his heel and making his way down the hallway toward the stairs leading to the first floor.

Veneziano watched him go before turning and heading toward Romano’s room. He paused briefly, debating whether to knock or just barge in like he usually did. In the end, he decided it was better to knock. He didn’t want to risk annoying his brother further.

With a look of determination, the light-haired brunette raised his hand and knocked firmly on the wooden door.

On the other side of the door, Romano lay in bed, his head buried beneath a pillow as he tried to calm himself down after the sheer embarrassment he’d just gone through. (Spoiler alert: it wasn’t working. Just thinking about it made him want to sink through the floor)

"Damn it, why do I always have to embarrass myself like that…" the older Italian muttered, barely resisting the urge to groan. "That whole mess could’ve been avoided if I’d just kept my mouth shut! Who the hell blurts out someone’s name like that? What’s wrong with me?!" he exclaimed, his voice muffled beneath the pillow.

Somehow, whenever he talked about Prussia, his thoughts turned to mush. He couldn’t form proper sentences, and all sense of acting like a normal human being vanished. Even when they were alone together, his heart would race uncontrollably, his stomach would flutter with butterflies, and his palms would start to sweat, and then—

He was about to spiral into more thoughts about all the strange things that happened whenever he was alone with the former nation, but a sudden barrage of knocks on his door abruptly pulled him out of his head.

"Fratello, posso entrare? (Brother, can I come in?)" Romano heard his brother’s voice from the other side of the door.

He was about to say that he wanted to be alone, but before he could get the words out, Veneziano opened the door without waiting for permission and stepped inside, closing it behind him.

Romano let out an exasperated sigh. "Maledizione, Veneziano…! (God damn it, Veneziano…!)" he muttered quietly.

"Fratello...?" the Northern nation said, stepping closer to the bed. "What are you doing?"

"Erasing my existence." Romano replied flatly.

"Fratello, that’s a terrible joke!" Veneziano said, his tone mildly scolding. "You’re going to run out of oxygen if you keep that up!" he then walked over to Romano and started tugging on the pillow covering his head.

"Nooo!" Romano protested, clutching the pillow tighter. "Veneziano, vattene! (Veneziano, go away!)"

The younger Italian didn’t listen and kept pulling harder on the pillow until he finally yanked it free from Romano’s grasp and tossed it across the bed. Romano groaned, reluctantly sitting up and shooting his brother an angry glare.

"What do you want?" the dark-haired brunette demanded.

Hearing that, Veneziano smiled softly and sat down next to him on the bed. "I just want to talk to you. You know, like one brother to another!" he explained.

"About what?" Romano asked, raising an eyebrow in skepticism.

"About, well…" Veneziano hesitated, unsure how to put his thoughts into words. "Why did you run off like that just now?" he finally asked, sounding more confident.

Romano froze for a moment, then averted his gaze to the side. “I don’t know what you mean..." he murmured quietly.

"Come on, fratello, you literally ran into the door and almost knocked it down because you forgot you had to pull it!" the younger Italian pointed out, making Romano’s face flush.

"I didn’t run into any stupid door! I just… kind of walked into it… and maybe hit it a little," the Southern nation argued, though he didn’t seem too convinced by his own words. He shook his head. "It’s not my fault anyway! Who even has doors like these in their house?!"

"Um, pretty much everyone…" Veneziano replied, tilting his head slightly.

"Well…" Romano started, clearly unsure of what to say next, then frowned deeply. "People should just stop using these awful doors and replace them. They’re a hazard to society!" he declared, crossing his arms and turning his head away. "Also, I didn’t run! I just walked away a bit faster because I didn’t want to continue our conversation. Two completely different things!"

"Right…" the Northern nation said, clearly unconvinced. He took a deep breath and sighed before remaining silent for a moment. Then, with a hint of hesitation, he asked, "Is it because of Prussia...? Did you panic because I brought him up?"

Romano’s head snapped back toward his brother, his eyes wide as plates. He stared at him with his mouth slightly open before finally stammering, "P-Prussia?!" his face turned bright red. "No—that's... you're totally far off, you Idiot!" he said, gesturing wildly with his hands. "Why would I panic just because you mentioned Prussia?!" he asked as if it were the most ridiculous idea in the world, then scowled. "That’s such a dumb thing to suggest!" he looked down at the covers, avoiding his brother’s gaze. "Me and him… we’re friends now, so there’s no reason for me to panic or whatever nonsense you’re making up… yeah, exactly! S-so just drop this stupid theory of yours…" his voice trailed off into a mumble as he felt his heart pounding far faster than it should.

Veneziano blinked in surprise at the older nation’s outburst, then let out a sigh. "Fratello… you’re kind of panicking right now, and I hate to burst your bubble, but we’re talking about Germany’s brother. So, this just confirms my earlier suspicion."

At that, the Southern nation opened his mouth to argue, but no words came out. He closed it, stayed silent for a moment, then opened it again with more determination, only to fall silent once more. In the end, he lowered his head and looked down at his hands.

The younger Italian paused for a moment, then scooted closer to his brother. "Romano, I’m your brother. I might not be the smartest guy, but I can always tell when something’s going on with you… whether it’s good or bad," he said slowly. "Thank goodness this time it’s something good, because I don’t think I could handle seeing you sad and gloomy again. It would break my heart." his expression grew a little sad before he shook his head.

"Anyway, what I’m trying to say is that I know you well, and I’ve noticed some things you probably aren’t aware of. Unfortunately, most people tend to be oblivious to what’s right around them but very aware of things that don’t concern them, myself included. But that’s not really the point. The point is, I’ve noticed you’ve been acting differently lately… in a good way." Veneziano explained, causing Romano to slowly lift his head and look at him with furrowed brows.

"You seem happier, like for the first time in a long while, you actually want to live," he said, then added quickly. "I’m not saying you didn’t want to live before, but you were… very unhappy," he admitted, glancing away briefly before meeting Romano’s eyes again. "That is, until recently… until you got closer to Prussia."

"Ever since that day… the one I’d rather not bring up right now because it’s pretty sad and, um, intense… after Prussia talked to you, you’ve been doing better," North Italy admitted slowly. "I don’t know exactly what he said to make you happier or help you sleep at night, but I’m really glad he said whatever it was that he said." he placed a hand over his heart, a small smile tugging at his lips. "I’m also glad you see him as a... friend. I know you don’t usually warm up to people easily and need time to get close to someone, so it makes me happy to see you getting along with him."

Romano blinked, taken aback by his brother’s words. He didn’t quite understand why Veneziano was saying all of this to him. "What... what exactly are you getting at here...?" he asked, swallowing nervously.

Veneziano paused, his expression turning unusually serious as he looked closely at his older brother. There was something in his eyes—gentle and understanding, yet hesitant—like he wasn’t sure if he should say what was on his mind.

"Fratello,” he said after a moment. “I don’t want to make things awkward for you. I know you hate that. But, I feel like I need to say this, to get it out in the open." he sighed, then took a deep breath. "Do you… maybe like Prussia?"

At first, Romano didn’t fully register the words. They seemed to pass right by him as he continued staring silently at Veneziano. It was probably the last thing he’d expected his brother to say. He blinked once, then twice, trying to process the question and mentally rewind to make sure he’d heard it correctly.

After a long pause, he finally spoke, his voice strained and his throat feeling dry and tight. "What…?"

"I said..." the Northern nation repeated. "Do you like Prussia? I mean, 'like' like him..."

'Like' like him... Prussia?

Huh...

HUH?!!

In that moment, Romano felt like he died on the spot and his soul ascended to the heavens above. His eyes widened so much they looked like they might pop out, while his face burned so hot he was sure smoke was rising from it. He sputtered for words, his eyes drifting around the room searching for inspiration before settling back on his brother. He took a sharp breath and practically wheezed out his words.

"W-WHAT?!" the Southern nation finally burst out, his voice shooting up several octaves and making the other man squint in mild discomfort at the sudden volume. "WHAT KIND OF QUESTION IS THAT?!" he practically shouted. "WHY WOULD YOU EVEN ASK ME THAT?!" he yelled again. "WHAT THE HELL?!"

"I'm sorry, I didn’t mean to distress you, but fratello... you have to understand where I’m coming from!" the Northern nation exclaimed, raising his hands in surrender. He was about to say more, but the older man interrupted him before he could continue.

"WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?!" Romano shouted loudly, waving his hands wildly and almost hitting his brother in the process. "I—I DON’T UNDERSTAND!" he gasped, then took a sharp breath and seemed to deflate like a balloon losing air. "Like..." he stammered, his voice shaky and his eyes trembling as he searched for the right words. "Prussia..." he finally said, the name strained on his lips before he bit his lip, closed his eyes tightly, and shook his head as if the thought was too overwhelming to bear.

"Fratello—" Veneziano extended a hand toward Romano to calm him down, but before he could make contact, the hazel-eyed man swatted it away, then pressed his hands against his flushed cheeks and started to hyperventilate.

"AAAAA—"

Hearing his brother’s distressing scream, Veneziano lost patience and firmly grabbed him by the shoulders, giving him a sharp shake.

"Romano!" the younger Italian shouted, jolting the Southern nation out of his breakdown. "Pull yourself together!" he said, his tone harsher than usual as he frowned at his older brother.

Romano blinked, surprised by his brother’s reaction. After a brief pause, he steadied himself and gave a slow, uncertain nod. "Bene…" he said, his voice trembling slightly.

Hearing that, Veneziano’s frown softened, and he let out a deep sigh of relief. He released the dark-haired brunette and adjusted his position on the bed to get more comfortable. His amber eyes flickered down briefly before meeting Romano’s uneasy gaze.

"Okay, maybe I brought that up too suddenly," Veneziano said slowly. "I probably should’ve said it a bit more subtly so it wouldn’t feel so overwhelming for you. I know that when it comes to feelings and stuff, you tend to get stressed and don’t like discussing those topics." he admitted, bringing his hands together and nervously fidgeting before resting them in his lap. "That’s on me, so mi dispiace (I’m sorry)." he took a deep breath. "But now that I’ve said it, it’s too late to take it back, so I’ll just keep going."

Romano looked like he wanted to respond but didn’t know what to say, so he stayed silent. Honestly, his mind was completely blank. This... whatever this conversation was, wasn’t at all what he had expected when he woke up this morning... er.... afternoon. He definitely wasn’t in the right state to be having this talk with his brother right now.

"Fratello," Veneziano continued, "you know I’m not one to jump to conclusions without enough evidence... well, maybe that’s a bit of a stretch. I do sometimes jump to conclusions about unimportant things. But when it comes to serious matters like this, I usually need proof to back up what I say." he admitted.

"What I’m trying to say is, I didn’t just suddenly decide that you, uh..." he hesitated, not wanting to upset Romano again. "...like Germany’s older brother out of nowhere." he paused for a moment before adding, "I only came to that conclusion a few minutes ago, but honestly, I had my suspicions before, so it’s not completely random if you’re wondering."

"That being said… as I’ve mentioned before, I know you, since we’re brothers and all, and you might not even realize it yourself, but from what I’ve seen these past few days, you’ve really taken a liking to Prussia. You spend a lot of time with him, talk to him often, and you smile way more when he’s around. And you call him by his real name, which, let’s be honest, you never do unless someone’s really close to you. Normally, anyone outside your inner circle gets called a 'bastard' or some other insult."

"Oh! And you don’t yell at him anymore either. You actually talk to him nicely. That says a lot. If you’re treating Prussia like that, he must really mean something to you." Veneziano remarked. Then, more quietly, he added, "Also, you’ve been spending the nights with him. So that’s got to count for something, too. You wouldn’t do that with someone you didn’t genuinely like."

Hearing that, South Italy choked on the breath he’d just taken and burst into a coughing fit. He pounded his chest a few times to steady himself, then turned to his younger brother with wide eyes. "You know about that?!" he blurted, unable to keep his voice down.

At his words, Veneziano arched an eyebrow. "Was I not supposed to...?"

"No!" Romano snapped, the color returning to his face.

"Oh..." the Northern nation murmured, stretching the word before offering Romano an apologetic smile. "Sorry, but you couldn’t have expected me... or Germany, for that matter... not to figure it out. You haven’t exactly been subtle about it. For three mornings in a row, I went to your room to wake you up, and you weren’t there. Your bed looked untouched, and when I searched the house, you were nowhere to be found, only to show up later like nothing happened. The only place I didn’t check was Prussia’s room, since I didn’t want to invade his privacy... but I think you can guess what conclusion I came to." he then pointed to the shirt he was wearing. "Also, how do you think I got your shirt? You weren’t here, so… I just helped myself."

Upon hearing that, Romano let his head fall in defeat. "Ugh…" he groaned, bringing a hand to his face, covering it in embarrassment. "Uccidimi… (Kill me…)," he muttered, scrunching his face in discomfort. "Why did you have to put it like that? ‘Spending the nights with him’... can’t you hear how embarrassing that sounds?" he strained out, feeling himself practically melt with embarrassment at the implication of the phrase. "He’s just been helping me sleep, that’s all, damn it..."

"Uh, sorry..." Veneziano said apologetically. "I didn’t really mean to imply anything…" he paused, then added, "Though, is that really the only thing you picked up from what I just said?"

The dark-haired brunette stayed silent for a moment, gathering his thoughts and trying to calm himself down for the third time that day. At last, he whispered, "No..." his hand dropped slowly from his face as he lifted his head, his expression conflicted. "But I don’t... I don’t like…" Romano began, but he couldn’t bring himself to finish the sentence. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to, his mind just wouldn’t let him deny what Veneziano had said.

Until now, Romano had never really taken the time to think about the… well, feelings he had toward the former nation. He had sensed something there, something positive that made his chest warm and his heart race, but he had never put a name to it. He hadn't even been sure what it was, and that hadn’t bothered him. He hadn’t felt the need to label it since it was a good feeling, not a bad one. But now, after hearing Veneziano’s words, Romano couldn’t help but realize his brother was kind of right.

'Like' was a word that truly captured what the older Italian felt for Prussia...

The Southern nation had been in plenty of relationships before, but never with someone he truly liked. Well, maybe that was a bit of an exaggeration. He had liked some of them, but not in the 'like' like kind of way. The kind of like that came with... love... love like what Veneziano and Germany had. That was something he could honestly say he’d never truly experienced. To love someone for a long time and never stop loving them, simply because the feelings were that strong.

And maybe that was partly his fault. Feelings were hard for him. They were messy and complicated. Romano never really knew how to handle them. He didn’t know what to say, how to act, or what was too much or too little. Whenever he caught real feelings, it felt like everything spun out of control. He always ended up messing things up somehow.

However... with Prussia, things were different.

Romano never felt like he was messing things up when he was with the former nation, and even if he did, Prussia never held it against him. He was always kind to Romano. Talking with him over the past few days, especially yesterday, had been one of the best things that had ever happened to him. He’d managed to open up about so many emotions and thoughts he’d kept buried for a long time. It had been hard at first, but little by little, it got easier.

For once, Romano didn’t feel like opening up was stupid or embarrassing. In fact, he actually found it… nice. Somehow, Prussia made emotions feel less confusing. He made them easier to deal with.

Romano didn’t know what exactly made Prussia different... maybe it was how attentive he was, how he actually listened when Romano spoke and never made him feel stupid, or maybe it was just how everything he said somehow made Romano feel better about himself. Whatever it was, Romano realized he really liked him.

Oh.

He had just admitted that. And so easily too, as if there was no doubt behind it at all—because now that he really thought about it, there wasn’t. Romano truly did like Prussia. But… did he like him in a romantic way?

Like...

Holding hands?

That actually sounded nice, especially since Prussia’s hands were always so warm.

Hugging him?

That seemed even better. It made Romano’s chest flutter. Prussia gave good hugs, and he was very huggable.

Kissing him...?

That last thought made Romano’s heart skip a beat, and he bit his lip without realizing it. Kissing Prussia… just thinking about it made him feel dizzy, but in a good way.

However, Romano didn’t have time to dwell on the thought any longer, as Veneziano suddenly spoke, interrupting his train of thought.

"Look, maybe ‘like’ is still too strong a word right now, I’m not sure. Only you can figure that out. But I do believe he means something to you," North Italy admitted, offering the older man a gentle smile. "And I think you mean something to him too." his words made Romano’s already racing heart beat even faster. "I’ve seen the way he looks at you. His whole face softens when he’s around you. He doesn’t look like that with anyone else."

Romano blinked, his expression shifting to one of surprise. "He doesn’t...?"

Did that mean...?

"Nope!" Veneziano said cheerfully, then his expression softened. "I’m not asking you to do anything right now, especially since you’re still recovering from everything that happened just a few days ago. But… per favore, please think about what I told you," he said quickly, taking one of Romano’s hands and giving it a reassuring squeeze. "Can you do that?"

South Italy remained silent, quietly taking in his brother’s words. He glanced down at their joined hands, then met Veneziano's brown eyes before nodding slowly. "Okay," he whispered, squeezing his brother's hand in return. "I will."

Veneziano smiled and let go of his brother’s hand. He shifted on the bed, but then something caught his eye. Quickly, he stood up and walked over to the window, pressing his palms against the glass. "Fratello, come look!" the light-haired brunette called out excitedly, glancing back at Romano and motioning for him to come closer.

The older Italian furrowed his brows in confusion but still walked over to his brother. Peering out the window, he tried to spot what had Veneziano so excited. It took him only half a second to realize it was snowing.

"Oh," Romano murmured, stepping closer to the window, his eyes wide with wonder as he watched the small snowflakes drift down from the sky. "It’s snowing."

"Yeah! It's so pretty!" Veneziano exclaimed with a bright grin.

"Isn't winter supposed to come in a few weeks, though?" the Southern nation asked. "It's still autumn..."

"Sì, but I don't see the harm in it arriving early. It's nice, no?" Veneziano asked, earning a nod from Romano.

"Yes, it is."

They watched the snow fall quietly for a moment before North Italy spoke again.

"You know, this is the first snow." he said, jabbing a finger against the window.

"Yeah, so?" Romano asked.

"Well, Japan says the first snow symbolizes new beginnings," Veneziano explained. "I think it’s a fitting expression, since when it snows, everything gets covered in white, and then when spring comes, it all melts away, giving everything a fresh start!"

"New beginnings..." Romano repeated softly, his eyes locked on the scene outside. He didn't know why, but for some reason the phrase resonated with him. It was strange.

In that moment, oddly enough, Prussia’s words from yesterday came to the Italian’s mind, and he glanced toward his brother with a hesitant expression. “Hey, fratello?" he said uncertainly.

"Hm?" Veneziano murmured, his attention still fixed on the snow drifting down from the sky.

The Southern nation hesitated, tapping his fingers lightly against the glass before pulling his hand away and folding his arms. "Do you think I’m a good person?" he asked at last.

Hearing that, Veneziano tore his gaze away from the window and looked directly at Romano, surprise spreading across his face. "Huh? What do you mean?"

"I mean, what do you think of me? Do you think I'm good or..." Romano pressed on, dragging the last word out.

Veneziano blinked, then tilted his head in confusion. "Why are you asking me this?" he said, his voice carrying a hint of concern.

"Uh, no reason," Romano replied, looking away. "Just for the sake of asking, that's all." he gave a slight shrug.

The Northern nation looked at him for a moment, then gave a small nod. "Alright... then, yeah, I think you’re a good person!" he said, before his expression twisted into a slight frown. "No, actually, I think you're a great person! The greatest of the great! You’re the best fratello I could’ve ever asked for!"

At that, Romano offered a small smile and looked back at his brother. "You really think so?"

"Sì!" Veneziano said with a nod, his voice filled with certainty.

"Even if I am the way that I am? Even if I don't measure up to you?" Romano pressed on.

"Eh? What do you mean 'you don’t measure up to me'?!" Veneziano exclaimed, his face contorting in disbelief. "Of course you do! Why would you even say that?" he didn’t wait for an answer before continuing. "You work so hard and you help hold our country together! The capital, which is basically the heart of our entire nation, is in your region, and you manage it so well! You're like the main pillar to Italy!" he gestured toward Romano, who looked visibly taken aback.

"Oh, fratello… please don’t tell me you really think that! That you’re somehow less than me!" he exclaimed, eyes growing sad. "That would break my heart, especially because you are la persona più straordinaria che conosca! (The most amazing person I know!)"

South Italy gave a quick shake of his head, snapping himself out of his surprise. He raised his hands in a dismissive gesture. "Ah, no, it’s not that," he said quickly, trying to reassure his younger brother before he got too emotional. "I just said that... to see what you'd say! Yes! So, please don't worry. I'm good."

"Are you sure?" Veneziano asked worriedly, studying his older brother’s face for any hint of doubt.

"Yes, now cut it out with the crocodile tears," Romano said, rolling his eyes dramatically. "You’re gonna make me feel bad."

Hearing that, the younger man let out a soft laugh and exhaled in relief. "Phew, I almost started crying back there."

"You always almost start crying." Romano said with an amused huff.

"Hey! Not true!" Veneziano retorted. "Most of the time I just do it to be dramatic, I don't weep so easily unless it's something that actually matters!"

"True, I can't disagree with you on that." the Southern nation said, prompting a pleased look from his brother.

A small smile tugged at Romano’s lips as his thoughts drifted to Prussia. It seemed the former nation had been right all along. Maybe he really had been clinging to the false belief that he was somehow less than Veneziano. Hearing his brother’s words now, he couldn’t help but feel a little foolish. Had he really spent all this time tearing himself down, hurting over something that was never even true?

Damn.

If it weren’t for Prussia, he might never have realized this. The guy really was as he always claimed. Awesome. And yeah… Romano liked him. A lot.

The older Italian let out a soft sigh before stepping closer to his little brother and pulling him into a hug. It was rare for him to show affection like this—hugging Veneziano wasn’t something he usually did—but he wanted to change that. He wanted to be a better brother, to prove he truly was the person Veneziano believed him to be.

"For the record," he said quietly. "You’re also the best fratello I could’ve asked for."

Veneziano appeared momentarily surprised by both the gesture and the words, unsure how to react at first, but then he quickly hugged Romano back.

"Grazie, significa molto per me, fratello. (Thank you, that means a lot to me, brother.)" the light-haired brunette confessed before squeezing Romano even tighter.

"Veneziano," the older man strained to say. "You're squeezing the air out of me...!"

Hearing that, Veneziano quickly released him and stepped back with a sheepish smile. "Sorry, fratello," he apologized. "It’s just… what you said made me really happy!"

Romano opened his mouth to reply, but before he could say anything, his stomach let out a loud grumble, cutting him off. At the sound, Veneziano perked up, a sudden look of realization crossing his face.

"Ah, right! You must be really hungry!" the brown-eyed man said, eyes widening. "You haven’t eaten in—" he paused to count on his fingers, "—eighteen hours!" he shook his head in disbelief. "That’s practically fasting. You need to eat something right now!"

Romano tried to say something, but Veneziano cut in before he could. "Why didn’t you say anything, fratello? You shouldn't have let me talk for so long!"

"It’s fine—" South Italy began, but he barely got the words out before Veneziano suddenly grabbed his wrist and started pulling him toward the door.

"No, it's not! I will not have you die from starvation!"

"I can't die from starvation, dumbass." Romano said, but he let himself be dragged along anyway. Aside from being hungry, he felt surprisingly good. He found himself hoping that Prussia had returned. He really wanted to see him. Now he understood what he was feeling for the other, and even though he wasn’t sure what to do next, it didn’t scare him. In fact, it made his heart beat a little faster.

Chapter Text

Veneziano pulled Romano downstairs and into the kitchen, where Germany sat at the table, typing on his laptop and drinking what looked like coffee, though it was clearly the instant kind, not real Italian espresso, the kind both brothers wouldn’t go near even if their lives depended on it. When he noticed the two Italians rushing in, Germany looked up from his laptop and gave them a confused look.

“Is everything alright...?” he asked, his blue eyes flicking between Veneziano and Romano.

“Yup! Everything is a-ok!” the Northern nation replied with a cheerful grin. “Better than perfect!”

At his response, Germany raised an eyebrow in mild curiosity but didn’t press further. He simply gave a small nod and said, “That’s good,” in his usual monotone voice. Still, the slight upward curve of his lips betrayed a hint of relief, and perhaps even a touch of happiness, that the two Italians had worked things out.

“Mhm!” Veneziano agreed, letting go of Romano and walking over to the fridge. He opened it and peeked inside. “I think there are still some leftovers from that time I stress-cooked,” he said, narrowing his eyes thoughtfully. “But it’s probably better if you eat something fresh.” he looked over the fridge door at Romano, who was now leaning against the table. “Do you want me to make you something?”

At that, the older Italian paused to think for a moment before shrugging. “Eh, anything works for me (Well, anything Italian, to be exact)” he said casually, then added with a slight frown, “But if you’re cooking, I’m definitely helping. There’s no way I’m just standing on the sidelines while you hog the kitchen.”

Hearing that, Veneziano let out a soft laugh. “Pfft, ok, whatever you want fratello,” he said cheerfully. “You know I love cooking with you!”

“Are you two planning to cook?” the German asked, glancing between the two Italians.

“Yeah, Romano’s really hungry, he hasn’t eaten anything since yesterday!” Veneziano said, pressing his hands together before stretching his arms wide to show just how much time had passed. “That’s a really long time!” he added, grabbing onto the fridge door and leaning back slightly on his heels. “And I can’t leave mio fratello to starve!”

“Ah, right,” Germany said with a small nod of realization. “Would you like me to...?” he asked, motioning first to his laptop, then toward the hallway.

Seeing that, Veneziano quickly released the poor door and shook his head. “No, no, it’s fine! You’re not bothering us!” he said brightly, then turned to his brother. “Right, Romano?”

“I suppose,” the Southern nation replied with a shrug. Now that he thought about it, Germany didn’t annoy him as much as he used to. In fact, he was actually... tolerable. Huh. He never imagined the day would come when he didn’t want to rip Germany’s head off. Prussia really was having a good influence on him.

The thought brought a faint smile to Romano’s face. He shifted slightly and glanced toward Germany, a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. “Hey... Prussia... is he...?” he began, trailing off. He didn’t finish the question, but it was clear enough from his tone and the way he said it what he was asking.

“Mein Bruder?” the blue-eyed man repeated, sounding a little confused at first. Then his face lit up with understanding. “Oh, no. He hasn’t returned yet,” he said, his expression turning apologetic. “Sorry.”

“Ah...” Romano said, feeling a bit disappointed. He knew he shouldn’t have expected a different answer, especially since it hadn’t been long since he last asked Germany about Prussia. But he couldn’t help himself, he really wanted to see the former nation. He missed him... Wow. He kinda sounded lovesick. The thought made his cheeks flush, and he quickly shook his head. He needed to pull himself together.

Romano let out a small sigh and turned his attention to his brother. He shifted slightly, starting to move toward him, but just as he did, the front door swung open with a loud bang, crashing against the wall. The sudden noise made Romano jump, stopping him in his tracks.

With wide eyes, he—along with his brother and Germany—snapped his head toward the sudden noise. All three blinked in surprise as the sound of something clattering followed, accompanied by a string of muffled curse words. Then, as if the universe had heard Romano’s thoughts and decided to answer them, Prussia came skidding into view from the hallway, nearly slipping as he entered the living room. He paused, looking around in confusion with furrowed brows until his eyes landed on the others. His face lit up instantly. Without missing a beat, he turned on his heel and sprinted into the kitchen, sliding across the floor in what was supposedly meant to be an epic entrance.

“It’s snowing!” the albino exclaimed, his red eyes shining with excitement. He was still wearing the jacket he’d had on outside, speckled with a few snowflakes that were slowly melting. It was obvious he’d been too eager to share the news to bother taking it off. His hair was even messier than usual, and with Gilbird nestled snugly in the tangled strands, he looked like he’d just walked out of a full-blown blizzard.

Romano just stood there, staring at the former nation. Prussia was grinning with that ridiculous, crooked grin of his, and just seeing it sent a rush of butterflies through the Italian’s stomach. The lovesickness he’d pushed away came flooding back and multiplied tenfold, making his pulse race.

He’d wanted to see the former nation so badly, and now that the albino was finally here, right in front of him, all he could do was stare, frozen in place like an idiot.

Luckily for Romano, Veneziano slammed the fridge door shut, jolting him out of his frozen state. Without missing a beat, the Northern nation hurried over to him and took it upon himself to respond to Prussia.

“I know! It was such a big surprise when I looked out the window and saw snowflakes floating everywhere!” the younger Italian exclaimed, clapping his hands with excitement. “I can’t wait for everything to be covered in snow. It’s going to look so pretty!”

“Yeah! Me too!” the ex-nation agreed, pumping a fist into the air. “I’m going to build a two-story snow fort with cannons in the front and back, and an eight-meter wall around it for defense. Then I’ll ambush anyone who walks by with giant snowballs and claim my glorious victory, haha!” he exclaimed with enthusiasm, earning a laugh from Veneziano.

“That sounds a little unrealistic, but I’m totally in if you want help building it!” the Northern nation said with determination, then gestured toward his brother. “Romano’s in too, right fratello?”

At the sound of his name, Romano blinked. “Uh...” he mumbled, his brain lagging as he tried to catch up with whatever his brother had just said. When it finally clicked, he gave an overly quick nod. “Yes!” he declared, clenching his fists and forcing a determined expression onto his face. “I will build a... uh, fort!” he glanced at Veneziano, who was watching him with an amused smile. “Stiamo parlando di questo, vero...? (That’s what we’re talking about, right...?)” he whispered, earning a small nod from Veneziano, who seemed to find his confusion funny. Damn it, Veneziano!

“It's snowing?” Germany suddenly asked, still seated at the table but no longer focused on his laptop, a puzzled expression on his face. “Since when?”

“Since some time ago!” Veneziano replied, tilting his head. “You didn't know?”

At his words, the blonde man shook his head dismissively. “No, I was too focused on finishing this report to notice.” he said, nodding toward his laptop.

“Well, then maybe you should get your face out of work for a change and look around, cause you’re missing out on a lot!” Prussia interjected, shooting the younger German a mock-disapproving look.

“Maybe YOU should focus on work for a change,” Germany replied through clenched teeth. “I’m not the only one who has things to get done for this country. You have your own responsibilities, but ever since the two Italys showed up, all you’ve done is slack off.” he frowned slightly, causing Prussia to visibly deflate.

“Uh, yes, well…” the albino hesitated for a moment before brightening up. “It’s vacation, so I’m not obligated to do anything!”

“For them, not you!” the younger German snapped, barely resisting the urge to facepalm himself.

Prussia let out a small laugh at the comment, then gave a sheepish smile. “I’ll get to it, I promise, West,” he said, trying to reassure his younger brother. Germany gave him a doubtful look, followed by a tired sigh. Feeling a little guilty, the albino turned to Veneziano and leaned in slightly, bringing a hand to the side of his face like he was whispering a secret. “Hey, little Italy,” he murmured, “Think you could help calm him down a bit? He’s usually less annoyed when you’re around.”

At the albino's words, the Northern nation looked over at Germany, then back at Prussia with a bright smile. “I’ll try!” he said cheerfully. He started to move, but paused to gently nudge his brother. “Romano, you keep Prussia company, bene?” he said. Without waiting for a response, he hurried over to his boyfriend, ready to try and cheer him up.

Romano just stared after his brother, murmuring a faint, barely audible, “Bene...”

He drew in a deep breath, then turned his attention back to the former nation. Prussia was still staring in the direction Veneziano had gone, his eyes slightly narrowed. Romano considered saying something to catch his attention, but the thought quickly faded when, without warning, Prussia turned and looked at him.

The moment those red eyes met his, Prussia’s expression softened, his grin fading into a small, gentle smile. The simple gesture made Romano’s breath catch as he remembered what his brother had said... how Prussia looked at him more gently than at anyone else. And just like that, the butterflies in his stomach began flapping even harder.

“Hey,” the albino said, offering a small wave. The gesture was unnecessary since they were only a few feet apart, but something about it made Romano melt on the spot.

The Southern nation’s mouth went dry, and he swallowed hard before finally replying. “Hey...” he said awkwardly, hesitating for a moment before giving a quick wave of his own. Then he dropped his hand and clasped it with his other one, fidgeting slightly.

“So,” Prussia said, stretching the word out for a moment. “How’d you sleep?” he asked, tilting his head to the side.

“Good... I slept a lot.” Romano replied, gently swaying from side to side, unable to sit still.

“That’s great!” the former nation said with a bright smile. “I’m glad you’re getting plenty of rest now.”

“Yeah, me too.” the dark-haired brunette agreed, nodding.

There was a brief silence between them, during which the older Italian fought to contain the warm, fuzzy feeling in his chest before Prussia spoke again.

“By the way, are you feeling better… since yesterday?” he asked, gesturing lightly toward Romano. “I mean, are you okay with yourself now, or…?”

“Ah, yes, I am,” Romano replied quickly. “Um… thanks again for what you said yesterday. That was really kind of you.” he mumbled the last part, lowering his gaze to the tiled floor beneath him.

“No problem, I just had to speak the truth!” Prussia said with a dismissive wave and a light laugh. When his laughter faded, silence settled between them again, and Romano could almost feel the tension in the air making his face slowly flush.

“Did you…” the ex-nation began hesitantly. “Did you see that it’s snowing?” he brought a hand to the back of his neck, rubbing it awkwardly.

“Sì,” the older Italian replied, his voice wavering slightly, which made him cringe inwardly. “I saw… with Veneziano.” he glanced up. “Is it… cold outside?” he asked, but almost immediately regretted the question since it was obvious that it was cold outside. It was snowing, after all. What kind of stupid question even was that?

But, Prussia didn’t seem to find his question stupid. In fact, he perked up at it. “Yup,” he said with growing excitement. “Freezing. But… it’s the kind of freezing that feels good, y’know?” Then a sudden thought crossed his mind, and his eyes flicked upward. “Speaking of cold, Gilbird’s freezing.” the former nation lifted the tiny yellow bird from his messy white hair, cradling it carefully in his hands. “He needs to warm up, or he’s going to catch something,” he said, then glanced at Romano. “Hey, hold out your hands for a second.”

Romano blinked, a bit puzzled, but complied, cupping his hands in front of him. Prussia gently placed the tiny bird into them, and the little creature chirped softly as it settled into the warmth of his palms.

“Your hands are much warmer than mine, so holding Gilbird will do him good,” the albino explained, his eyes shifting between Romano and the tiny bird. “I’m pretty sure mine are ice cold right now.” he raised a hand and lightly touched the Southern nation's forearm to prove his point, making Romano jump at the sudden cold sensation.

“Mio Dio!” the older Italian exclaimed, quickly pulling back and clutching Gilbird close to his chest. “Don’t touch me with those cold ass hands!”

“Aww, why not?” Prussia said with an amused grin. “Help me warm up too!” he stepped closer, reaching out toward Romano, but the dark-haired brunette quickly dodged and moved away.

“Hell no! Go find a radiator or something!” Romano exclaimed, shaking his head. “I already have to take care of this little guy,” he said, nodding toward Gilbird. “I can't do the same for you.” his words only seemed to amuse the albino more, and he reached out again to grab the older Italian, but Romano dodged once more and quickly took off in the direction of his brother.

“Eh? What’s wrong, fratello?” Veneziano asked, looking puzzled as he stood up from the seat beside his boyfriend and gave Romano a questioning look.

The hazel-eyed man quickly stepped behind Veneziano and muttered, “Prussia’s trying to freeze me to death.”

“Huh?” North Italy said, looking even more confused. “What do you mean?” he asked, but didn’t get a reply, because Prussia suddenly appeared in front of him, startling him.

“Hey, no fair!” the albino said, making a mock-disappointed face. He leaned to the side, trying to peer around the Northern nation. “You know I can’t mess with little Italy! West’ll get all mad at me!"

“Not my problem!” Romano exclaimed.

“Uh… what are you two talking about?” the younger Italian asked.

Hearing that, the ex-nation waved a dismissive hand. “Ah, it’s nothing,” he said, stepping back and slipping his hands into his pockets to warm them. “Just some random stuff, nothing serious.”

“Okay...?” Veneziano said, blinking in confusion. Then, hearing chirping behind him, he quickly turned around. His face instantly brightened when he saw the small yellow bird nestled in Romano’s hands.

“Awwww!” Veneziano cooed, leaning down with sparkling eyes as he gazed at the little creature. “Fratello, why didn’t you tell me you were holding Gilbird?” he asked, but didn’t wait for a response, immediately cooing over the bird again. “Can I pet him?” he added, looking at Romano with wide eyes before turning to Prussia. “Can I? Can I?”

“Sure, knock yourself out.” the albino said with an amused laugh.

“Yupii!” the light-haired brunette exclaimed, then turned back to Romano and excitedly stroked Gilbird's head with one finger. “He’s so cute!”

“I know.” Romano agreed, gazing down at Gilbird and struggling to resist the urge to squeeze him because of how adorable he was.

The two continued showering the small bird with affection and endless praise until a loud clearing of a throat snapped them out of their trance. They both turned toward the sound and saw the youngest German, hand raised to his mouth, wearing a slightly uncomfortable expression.

“Sorry, but could you take this” he gestured toward the two Italians. “somewhere else?” he asked with a sigh. “I really want to get this done, but I can’t focus with you two squealing right next to me.”

At his words, Veneziano’s expression shifted to an apologetic smile. “Oops, sorry Germany,” he said, guilt flickering in his eyes as he gestured toward Gilbird. “He’s just too cute to resist!” Then, gently grabbing his brother, he began guiding him a little farther away from the blond man. “Come on, fratello, let’s not bother Germany.”

“What a killjoy,” Romano muttered, rolling his eyes as he let his brother pull him along. A faint smile touched his lips when Gilbird chirped at him. “You think so too, huh?” he whispered to the bird.

Prussia watched the Italians with a grin, amused by how completely smitten they were with his bird. Not that he could blame them. After all, Gilbird was the most awesome bird ever. Of course, that was only natural, considering he belonged to the one and only awesome Prussia.

The albino proudly patted himself on the shoulder, mentally praising himself for being so awesome. As he continued watching the brothers, his attention slowly shifted to the older one. Romano looked genuinely happy now. There was no frown, no pursed lips, no narrowed eyes to show he was upset. He was just happy, and that made Prussia happy too. Really happy. It looked like his words from yesterday had had a positive impact on the Southern nation.

Truthfully, he had been a bit self-conscious about what to say and how to say it, since he hadn't wanted to make things worse. But in the end, everything had worked out for the better, and thank God for that. Prussia understood that words alone couldn’t heal someone who had been hurting for so long. It would take time. Still, this was a good start, and that was what mattered. That it had helped. And he was determined to keep showing Romano just how incredible he was until the Italian never doubted himself again.

Suddenly, a loud groan snapped the albino out of his thoughts. He blinked and turned toward the source of the sound. It was his brother. The poor guy looked extremely frustrated, his brows furrowed and his mouth twisted into a slight scowl.

The former nation ran a hand through his hair, then walked over to Germany with a curious look in his eyes. He leaned down slightly to see what his brother was typing so furiously on his laptop. His red eyes scanned the screen and saw that Germany was working on some kind of report, but it didn’t seem to be going well. Several paragraphs were riddled with errors, each marked for review.

Prussia let out a thoughtful hum, then shifted his attention to the other side of the screen, where another document was open, partially overlapping the report. That was probably the source material his brother was using to write the report.

The red-eyed man leaned in a little closer to examine the document. It appeared to be about the country's globalization efforts, covering topics like trade agreements, sanctions, export and import performance, and more. From the looks of it, the document was being updated, and Germany’s task was to assess whether the changes were currently beneficial for the country or if they should be postponed and implemented at a later time.

Yuck. Prussia had never been a fan of these kinds of domestic affairs. They were always so boring and time-consuming. Sure, they were necessary to keep a country running, but they were packed with so much dense information crammed into huge blocks of text that it killed anyone’s motivation to do anything. He hated dealing with stuff like this. It just wasn’t his kind of work.

What Prussia did enjoy, and had always had a soft spot for, was law, order and national security. He loved coming up with new ways to enforce laws effectively, reforming the justice system, launching anti-corruption initiatives, and especially improving the military. That last one in particular reminded him of his time leading the Teutonic Knights. Now that was fun.

His kid brother also preferred dealing with matters of law over social issues, but he’d never admit it. Germany was an even bigger perfectionist than Prussia himself and insisted on putting the same amount of effort into everything he did, no matter how boring or difficult it was. Besides, someone had to handle that stuff. It’s not like he could just ignore it in favor of something more interesting. A country run like that would collapse in no time.

The former nation narrowed his eyes slightly, raised a hand, and gestured toward the screen. “How much more do you have till you're done with this?” he asked, casting a quick glance at the blonde man before turning his attention back to the laptop.

At Prussia’s question, Germany stopped typing and rested his head in one hand. “A lot,” he replied flatly. “I only started about half an hour ago because I procrastinated like an idiot instead of doing this earlier this morning.” he added with a huff.

“Damn,” the white-haired man said, stretching the word out, not really sure how to respond. Germany wasn’t wrong. Starting early made finishing on time possible, while putting things off just led to stress. But, that probably wasn’t what his younger brother wanted to hear. After a brief pause, he asked, “When exactly do you think you’ll be done with this?”

“I’m not sure,” the younger German admitted honestly. “There’s a lot I need to review, and some issues with certain legislations I have to address,” he said with a sigh, running a hand down his face. “I’ve barely managed to get through the first section of this file. And on top of that, what’s on the screen isn’t even the final version,” he gestured weakly toward it. “It’s just a draft I’ll have to rewrite. So basically, it’s like I haven’t done anything at all.” he spoke with frustration before muttering under his breath, “So to answer your question properly, I honestly don’t know when I’ll finish this… thing.”

Hearing his brother’s words, Prussia winced, feeling guilty. Germany was clearly putting in the effort to get things done, while Prussia himself had been slacking off. He wasn’t always like this, though. Usually, he took his responsibilities seriously. After all, it was about his homeland, a place he loved deeply. Beyond that, working gave him a sense of identity... a feeling that he was still somewhat a real nation and recognized as one.

But lately, he’d been neglecting his duties, because he’d been too busy spending time with Romano. He knew it was probably a bit selfish, but between working and staying with the older Italian, he considered the second option more important. Especially since Romano was recovering from insomnia and some major self-esteem issues. If the roles were reversed, he was sure his brother would think the same.

Come to think of it... Germany was also procrastinating because of Italy—the other one, though. The Northern one.

Honestly, it was hard to focus with the two Italian brothers around. But it wasn’t their fault. As Romano had said, this trip was meant to help him heal, and that was reason enough not to blame them for the extra work piling up for Germany and himself.

Still, Prussia knew he should probably find a free window in his schedule and get his work done, and maybe give his brother a hand, too, since the Western side always had way more work than the Eastern one.

Yup, he’d do that. Because he was just that awesome!

“How about this,” the albino said, straightening up and giving his brother a determined smile. “You’re clearly way too stressed to get anything done right now. So, how about we go out for a bit to clear your head and check out the awesome snow? Then, when we get back, you can start fresh with something new, like economic performance or whatever doesn't frustrate you as much, and I’ll finish this report for you along with the stuff I’ve been putting off these past few days. Sounds good?”

At that, the blue-eyed man's expression shifted from annoyed to surprised. “You're... willing to do part of my work for me?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Ja, why not?” Prussia said with a shrug. “You're clearly stressed out, so I want to help, like the awesome big brother I am!” he declared, gesturing proudly at himself.

Germany stared at him, then tilted his head slightly. “But you’re not obligated to do this for me,” he said slowly. “You don’t have to carry this burden on my behalf. You already have your own struggles to deal with, and it’s not fair for you to take on more just to make things easier for me. I don’t want you to end up stressed in my place. That wouldn’t be right, especially considering you’ve been working longer than I have. For hundreds of years, actually. It would be unfair of me to expect you to shoulder this too.”

Hearing that, Prussia’s proud smile softened. His kid brother worried about him far more than he needed to sometimes.

“It wouldn’t be unfair, because I want to help you,” he said firmly. “It’s not like you’re making me do your work.” he gave a small shrug. “Yeah, I know I’m not obligated, but I want to help you out. I’m your awesome big brother, and big brothers are supposed to look out for their younger siblings!” he exclaimed, ruffling the younger German’s hair, only to have his hand swatted away.

“I’m not a kid anymore,” Germany muttered, running a hand through his now-messy hair.

“I know,” Prussia said fondly. “but to me, you’ll always be my kid brother.”

Germany let out a quiet sigh, but there was the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “Gott, you can be so annoying sometimes...”

At that, the former nation let out a laugh. “So, is that a yes to my awesome suggestion?” he asked, drumming his fingers on the table as if Germany’s answer was the final decision in a high-stakes reality show.

"I suppose." the younger German responded.

“Yes! The awesome Prussia strikes again, haha!” the albino exclaimed triumphantly.

“But, on one condition,” the blonde interrupted. “Don’t overwork yourself. If it's too much, tell me. Bitte (Please).”

“Alright, alright,” Prussia said with a nod, extending his hand toward Germany. “It's a deal, then.”

The younger nation rolled his eyes but shook his hand anyway, humoring him.

Now that everything was settled, they could finally head out. Yay! Prussia was so excited. He couldn’t wait to get back into the snow. Even if there wasn’t much of it, just a thin layer, it didn’t matter. He loved it nonetheless. Snow made everything more fun, despite being cold as hell. Snowball fights were his favorite. It was just like battling, only without the risk of getting hurt.

He couldn’t wait to hit Germany with a snowball. And Italy too. As for Romano… well, actually, he didn’t really want to hit him. Maybe he could talk him into teaming up instead. They could ambush Germany and Italy together. Yeah! That was genius. A couple versus... well, not a couple, but two friends... erm, like a couple of friends... in a snowball fight.

…Okay, wow. That sounded unbelievably stupid.

It would’ve sounded way cooler if he and Romano were a couple...

Wait—what? HOLD ON. Bad brain! Bad! Where the hell did that come from? Him and Romano, a couple? Like, a Germany-and-Italy kind of couple? Had he totally lost it?

This was a one-way ticket to screwing things up with the Southern nation. Sure, they were close now, but not that close... right? Sure, Romano seemed to like him, but it’s not like he liked him that way… right? Okay, yeah, maybe Romano got a little flustered sometimes, but he probably acted like that around everyone...

Right?

At that, Prussia quickly shook his head. Nope. Nope. He shouldn’t even be entertaining that thought. Even if hypothetically, theoretically, maybe, PERHAPS, Romano did like him that way (which he seriously doubted), he couldn’t just dump a relationship on him out of nowhere. That would be a total jerk move. Romano didn’t need that kind of pressure, especially now, when he was finally starting to see himself in a better light.

Also... a relationship? Since when did he start thinking about that kind of thing?

Damn. The older Italian was seriously messing with his brain chemistry.

And, apparently, his heart chemistry too.

The thought made the white-haired man's heart race, and he instinctively pressed a hand to his chest in an attempt to steady it. He took a sharp breath in, then exhaled slowly before turning around and clearing his throat.

“Hey, South! North!” Prussia called out to the two Italians. “You guys wanna go out with me and West?” he asked.

The two Italian brothers turned their attention to Prussia, blinking at him in mild confusion.

“Go out?” the Northern nation repeated. “Did Germany finish his work?”

“Not exactly, but he’s taking a break!” Prussia replied.

At that, Veneziano lit up. “Then yes, we totally want to—” he started, then abruptly stopped. “Wait a second,” he said, a hint of concern creeping into his voice. “Romano hasn’t eaten yet!” he slapped a hand to his face. “Oh no, I was supposed to cook! I completely forgot!” he added, his expression twisting with guilt.

The albino paused for a moment, then snapped his fingers as an idea struck him. With a few quick strides, he approached the Italians and said, “What if we eat out instead? Make it a proper hangout!”

“Oh! That’s a great idea!” Veneziano exclaimed, his smile returning, only to fade a moment later. “But, um… eat what, exactly?”

“I’m not sure, anything, really. I know you’re not the biggest fans of German food, but I’m sure there’s something you’d like if you gave it a chance,” the older German said, then gestured toward Romano. “Roma, you had some German cake when we went to that fair, right? And you liked it, didn’t you?”

“It wasn’t the worst thing I’ve ever tasted.” the dark-haired brunette responded.

"Wow, you really know how to give compliments." Prussia remarked sarcastically, earning a small huff from Romano.

“Ok, fine. It was alright.”

Hearing that, the former nation turned to North Italy. “You’ve heard his verdict! No need to worry about getting poisoned!”

The younger Italian stared at the ex-nation, then glanced at his brother before looking back, his face suddenly lighting up like a Christmas tree.

“Alright! I trust mio fratello's words!” he exclaimed, clasping his hands together with excitement. “So, does that mean I get to build a snowman?” he asked, his eyes practically sparkling.

“Yup!“ Prussia said, grinning.

“Yupii!! There’s hardly any snow in Italy, so I'm super excited!” Veneziano exclaimed with enthusiasm. “Ah, I’m going to grab my coat, and then we can head out!” he started to run off but suddenly paused and glanced back at Romano. “Fratello, you should probably change, you’re still in your pajamas!” he reminded, earning a small frown from Romano before sprinting away.

“You don’t have to point that out, idiot...” the Southern nation muttered under his breath, shaking his head as he looked over at Prussia.

Romano still had Gilbird in his hands, his hazel eyes shifting between the bird and the albino. Just as Prussia was about to ask if he wanted him to take Gilbird, Romano moved the bird to one hand, stepped closer, and slowly took Prussia’s hand, making the ex-nation's heart practically explode in his chest.

“Your hands are warm now...” South Italy murmured softly as he placed Gilbird into the red-eyed man's palm. “That’s good...” he whispered, still holding Prussia’s hand before a look of realization crossed his face. He quickly let go and stepped back.

“Uh, I... I’ll go change now!” the older Italian stammered, his cheeks flushing pink. Without another word, he spun around and hurried off. “Bye!”

The former nation watched Romano until he rounded the corner and disappeared from sight, his heart pounding in his chest. Heat rushed to his face, and he bit his tongue, trying to keep himself together.

Oh, sweet heavens. He was fucked. Really, really fucked. He liked Romano way too much for his own good.

Prussia pressed a hand to his burning face, prompting Gilbird to flutter onto his shoulder. He was trying to calm himself when a hand suddenly landed on his other shoulder, snapping him out of his thoughts and making him jump.

“You okay?” Germany asked, a look of confusion on his face.

“Uh,” Prussia mumbled, giving his brother a disoriented look before shaking his head. “Ja—I mean, yes! I’m fine. Totally fine!” he added with an awkward laugh.

Germany didn’t look convinced. He gave Prussia a deadpan look and said, “You’re sweating like crazy.”

“That’s—well… it’s just way too hot in here!” the older German blurted out, his voice louder and shakier than he meant it to be. “We should open a window! Actually, let’s open all the windows!” he added hastily, shrugging off his brother and rushing off to fling the windows open like a mad man.

Damn, he was so suspicious it actually hurt. Way to go, Prussia. He was great at everything else, but when it came to feelings, he completely sucked. How was he supposed to stay friends with Romano if he got all mushy and sappy every time Romano even touched his hand? He’d held the Italian's hand plenty of times before. So, why couldn't his heart handle it when it happened the other way around? And why on earth couldn’t he calm down?

The former nation gritted his teeth, spun around, and hurried to the fridge. He opened it and stuck his head inside.

“Bruder?!” Germany exclaimed, his voice full of concern. “What are you doing?!”

“I’m fine!” Prussia said quickly. “Just give me a moment!”

Germany simply looked at his brother and dragged a hand down his face. “Oh, what the hell…” he muttered quietly.

.
.
.

It took the four nations a bit of time, but eventually, they made it out the door and into the cold streets. The temperature had dropped a lot compared to the last few days.

A thin layer of snow covered the ground, crunching under their boots as they made their way to the restaurant Prussia and Germany had picked out and promised was good.

On the way there, Prussia managed to convince the others to stop for a few minutes and play in the snow. They built a snowman, or at least tried to. The snow wasn’t thick enough to make a proper one, and they didn’t have a carrot for the nose, so they used a stick instead, which looked kind of silly. But it was for Veneziano’s sake, and even though the snowman kept falling apart, the younger Italian was happy.

After that, they had a quick snowball fight. It didn’t last long, but it was a blast, especially because Prussia somehow got Romano to team up with him, just like he’d hoped. Who would’ve guessed Romano got super competitive over snowball fights? He completely obliterated Germany.

Afterward, they finally made it to the restaurant and were shown to a table. Prussia hovered around for a moment, uncertain where to sit, since he wasn’t sure if the Italy brothers wanted to sit together. But when Veneziano sat down beside Germany on one side of the table, the ex-nation took a seat across from them. Romano sat next to him and quietly scooted his chair a little closer.

Prussia would be lying if he said that didn’t make him feel a little giddy, and fall even harder for the older Italian.

“Hmm… Germany, what do you think I should order?” Veneziano asked, flipping open the menu and scanning the options before turning to his partner. “Is there something you'd recommend?”

“Uh,” Germany said as he picked up his own menu. “Give me a moment to look through it. I want to find something you’ll actually like.”

“Okay!” the Northern nation exclaimed, setting his menu aside. “While you do that, I’ll check the drinks menu and pick out some great wine!” he glanced around the table, but his cheerful expression quickly shifted to confusion when he couldn’t find what he was looking for. Turning back to his boyfriend, he gently tugged on his sleeve. “Germany, where’s the drinks menu?”

In response, the blonde simply picked up the menu the Italian had set aside and turned it over.

“Here.” he responded plainly.

“Dio Mio! No way!” Veneziano exclaimed, his expression a mix of shock and horror. “The food and drinks are on the same menu?! Germany, how can this be?!”

“It's more beneficial this way,” Germany responded. "Less paper usage, less deforestation.”

“Yes, but food and drinks shouldn’t be put on the same menu! It's just not normal!”

“Says who exactly...?” the blue-eyed man asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Io! (Me!)” Veneziano exclaimed, pointing at himself.

Prussia watched as Veneziano began listing to Germany all the reasons why putting food and drinks on the same menu was utterly horrifying. Then, turning his attention to Romano, he silently hoped the older Italian wouldn’t be as upset as his younger brother about the lack of separation between the two.

Romano had also picked up his menu and was scanning it. Luckily, he didn't seem distressed about the food and drinks being together. However, a slight frown was visible on his face and it was growing more pronounced with every passing second.

“Nothing you like?” Prussia asked, catching Romano’s attention.

The dark-haired brunette blinked, his frown easing a little before he shook his head. “No, it’s not that,” he said, glancing at the menu and then back at Prussia. “It’s just that these English translations don’t make much sense.”

“Oh,” the albino said, then perked up. “In that case, let me translate for you!” he leaned in closer to Romano, grinning. “I’m an awesome translator!”

The Southern nation tensed for a moment before relaxing. “Okay, if you want to,” he said, sliding the menu over to Prussia and pointing to the name of a dish. “What exactly is this... ?”

The albino glanced down at where Romano was pointing and said, “Schweinshaxe. It’s basically roasted pork with… well, beer gravy and bread dumplings.” Then, almost as an afterthought, he added, “But I don’t think it’s really your thing.”

Prussia stole a quick glance at the other man and noticed his face had twisted into a slight grimace, confirming what he had just said.

“Yeah… no. I’m not eating that,” the older Italian said, motioning toward the dish. “That thing’s an abomination.”

“Figured as much.” Prussia said with a sheepish smile.

Romano nodded, then scanned the menu again before pointing to another dish. “What about this one? Is it edible?” he asked.

Prussia glanced at the name of the dish and shrugged uncertainly. “It’s edible, sure, but honestly, I don’t think you’ll like it.”

At his words, the Southern nation pursed his lips in mild displeasure and let out a thoughtful hum as he drummed his fingers against the table. He didn’t seem very happy about eating at a German restaurant, which made Prussia feel a little guilty. So, he flipped through the menu, hoping to find something the Italian might like. When his eyes landed on a certain dish, his face lit up.

“Hey, Roma,” the albino said, giving the Italian a small nudge. “I think you’ll like this one.” he said, pointing to the dish he’d found.

Romano glanced at it with narrowed eyes. “Sour…?” he tried to say the name of the meal, but stumbled over the word.

“Sauerbraten!” the former nation exclaimed, pronouncing the name correctly.

“What exactly is it?” Romano asked, his voice carrying a touch of skepticism.

“It’s beef that’s been marinated for a few days and then slow-cooked with a mix of spices like…” the red-eyed man glanced at the ingredients. “Ginger, bay leaves, pepper, brown sugar, and some other stuff,” he explained. “It’s really good! You can take my word for it!” he nodded confidently. “Sounds like something you’d actually enjoy, especially since I’ve heard that in Italy, you guys eat a lot of marinated meats!”

At his words, Romano studied the dish he’d pointed to for a moment, then let out a soft sigh. “...Alright,” he muttered, sounding a bit reluctant but not completely opposed. “It actually doesn’t sound too bad…”

Prussia grinned. “I promise you won't regret it! I have awesome taste!” he said proudly, closing the menu with a satisfying snap.

“Awesome taste, yet you eat stuff like bread dumplings.” South Italy said with a snort.

“They’re not that bad. It’s literally just boiled bread. You can’t go wrong with bread.” Prussia retorted quickly.

“Boiled bread?” Romano repeated, disbelief clear in his voice. “Are you hearing yourself right now?”

“Yep, loud and clear!” the ex-nation said firmly. “And I’m pretty sure I’m right! What’s not to love about boiled bread?”

“Uh, everything,” Romano said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I’ve never seen any other country eat dumplings made from bread before. It sounds so wrong!” he winced at the thought, then poked the former nation in the arm with a faint, amused smile. “You have to be the weirdest person I know to like such poor excuse for food.”

At that, the white-haired man nearly choked on the breath he took. After steadying himself, he turned away from the menu to retort to Romano’s comment, but the words died on his tongue when he noticed just how close Romano was. How had he not realized it before?

Suddenly, speaking felt impossible as the former nation found himself staring at the other man, whose hazel eyes met his in return. Romano blinked slowly, and the simple motion made Prussia’s heart skip a beat. The amusement faded from Romano’s face as he seemed to notice the closeness too. But instead of pulling away, he tilted his head ever so slightly to the side, and for a fleeting moment, the German could’ve sworn the Southern nation looked just as entranced as he was.

He was pretty sure he would’ve done something stupid if not for the loud 'Ahem' that snapped him back to reality.

Both he and Romano jerked their heads around to see Germany, wearing a noticeably awkward expression.

“So… have you two decided what you want to order?” he asked stiffly, shooting them a tense glance before quickly looking away.

Beside him, Veneziano was covering his mouth, barely stifling his giggles. “Romano definitely picked his dish,” he said behind his hand, trying, but clearly failing, not to burst into laughter. “But it’s not from the menu!”

At his words, Germany turned toward him with a surprised look. “Italy, that’s—” he started to say, but Romano cut him off before he could finish.

“Che cazzo stai dicendo?! (What the fuck are you saying?!)” he hissed, his eyes wide and his whole face flushed bright red.

“What?” Veneziano said with an amused shrug. “It’s not like I’m wrong—Ow!” he suddenly yelped, leaning forward and grabbing his knee. “Fratello, why did you just kick me?!”

“Because you need to shut up!” the Southern nation snapped, scowling.

Prussia blinked, feeling a bit confused. “What are you two talking about?” he asked slowly. “Which dish isn’t on the menu?”

“Nothing!” Romano said quickly, shaking his head. “Veneziano’s just talking nonsense! He doesn’t know what he’s saying!”

“Yes I do—”

“No you don't!”

“Uh,” the albino said, then looked toward his brother. “West, what are they on about?” he asked.

Germany seemed ready to reply but changed his mind and stayed silent. With a sigh, he just shook his head. “I have no idea…”

The former nation furrowed his brows, not buying his brother’s words, then looked over at Romano. “Hey, South, what did little Italy mean by that?”

At that, Romano stammered, mixing English and Italian in a way that only confused Prussia more, until he finally seemed to snap.

“Just—just—” Romano struggled to find the words, glancing around for a moment before grabbing the menu Prussia had closed and shoving it into the German's face. “You didn’t pick something for yourself, dumbass!” he exclaimed.

But in his flustered state, Romano shoved Prussia a little too hard. The former nation, seated on a rickety wooden chair, lost his balance as it tipped beneath him. He toppled over, landing hard on the floor and nearly dragging the table down with him as he scrambled to grab it for support.

Seeing what happened, the Southern nation panicked. “Oh no, I didn’t mean to—uh, sorry! I just...” he stammered, then shot an angry glare at his brother. “Veneziano, you bastard, this is all your fault!”

“Eh?! What did I do?!” the Northern nation exclaimed in surprise.

“You know what you did!” Romano snapped, pointing accusingly at him before quickly standing and hovering beside Prussia. “Are you okay…?”

Prussia stood up with a slight wince and gave the older Italian a thumbs-up accompanied by a strained smile. “I’m fine.” he said, brushing off his clothes.

Romano didn’t look convinced. In fact, he seemed genuinely guilty. Prussia wanted to reassure him, but before he could say anything, the Italian sank back into his chair and buried his face in his hands with a groan. “Uccidimi...! (Kill me...!)” he muttered.

The older German didn’t understand the words, but from the tone Romano used, it was clear they weren’t said in a good way.

“Honestly, I’m fine.” Prussia insisted, but Romano remained silent, keeping his face buried in his hands as he shook his head.

The former nation stared at Romano, then glanced at the younger Italian, who was leaning across the table and gently patting Romano’s arm with an apologetic yet slightly amused smile. Then, he looked over at Germany, who was rubbing his temples in frustration.

Well, this was certainly one eventful lunch... With that, he picked up the menu from the floor, straightened his chair, and sat back down, trying to make sense of what had just happened.

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.
.

After the four nations had lunch, which, despite the initial mishaps, ended up going pretty well since the Italians actually found the food acceptable, they decided to walk around town for a bit.

At first, Romano walked with Veneziano, while Prussia and Germany trailed after them a few steps behind. Romano took the chance to scold his brother in Italian for what he’d said back at the restaurant, accusing him of trying to sabotage him. Veneziano just laughed, offered a half-hearted apology, and teased that Romano was sabotaging himself by acting so lovestruck. Flustered, the Southern nation gave him a hard shove in response.

Then, Romano ended up walking next to Prussia, while Veneziano walked ahead with Germany so he could hold hands with his boyfriend. As they walked, the dark-haired brunette kept stealing glances at the former nation, wanting to say something but unsure how to start. Then, during one of those glances, Prussia happened to look at him at the same time, meeting Romano’s eyes and offering a small smile. The Italian quickly turned his head away, embarrassed. He stayed quiet for a moment, then finally worked up the courage to speak.

“Sorry for, uh, pushing you off the chair… I just wanted to… hand you the menu.” the Italian mumbled, his voice trailing off. Of course, that wasn’t the real reason (he’d completely panicked and just wanted to distract the Prussian), but Prussia didn’t need to know that.

“Oh, it's ok,” the albino replied almost immediately, waving a hand dismissively. “A little fall like that isn’t enough to take down someone as awesome as me!” he said with a confident grin, gesturing to himself. Then his expression softened, and his smile grew more gentle. “So really, don’t worry about it,” he added quietly, letting out a small laugh. “Though I’ve got to say, you’ve got some serious strength in those arms of yours. One punch from you and I’d be out cold!” he joked.

At that, Romano huffed and rolled his eyes, the tension easing from his shoulders as a small smile tugged at his lips. “That’s got to be an exaggeration.”

“It’s not! You’ve punched me before and almost left me limping!” Prussia exclaimed in an exaggerated, dramatic tone.

“Oh, shut up, I did not!” Romano shot back. Okay… that was kind of a lie. He had punched Prussia a few times, though never with enough force to seriously hurt him. Well… maybe a few of them did hurt, but nothing too bad. “I only... slightly shoved you... a little harder than normal.” he added, trying to downplay it.

“That's kinda the definition of punching.”

“It’s not! It’s just...” the Southern nation began, then paused, thinking his words over, only to realize the German kind of had a point. Instead of finishing his sentence, he scooped up some snow from the roof of a nearby car, quickly shaped it into a snowball, and tossed it at Prussia.

“Ow, what was that for?” the red-eyed man exclaimed, glancing down at his now snow-covered jacket before looking back at Romano. However, he didn’t look upset. In fact, he seemed amused.

“You were being annoying,” Romano said flatly, brushing snow off his hands before turning to walk away. He had only taken a few steps when a snowball hit him square in the back, nearly knocking him forward. Regaining his balance, he turned around to see Prussia grinning smugly, his red eyes gleaming with mischief as he wiped his hands on his jacket.

Romano puffed out his cheeks and muttered, 'Bastard', under his breath before crouching down, forming another snowball, and hurling it at the former nation.

This time, Prussia dodged quickly, forming a snowball of his own and tossing it right back at Romano. The Italian managed to dodge as well, crouching down to grab more snow before flinging it back. They kept this up for a minute or so, throwing snowballs at each other without much aim (most of their throws missing their mark), but neither of them minded. They were just having fun.

Eventually, Veneziano, noticing the commotion, pulled himself away from Germany and approached them with concern, asking if they were fighting. They stopped immediately and reassured him it was just harmless fun. Unfortunately, Germany didn’t take it that way. He assumed Prussia had started it and immediately scolded him. That left Romano feeling a bit guilty... and now the two walked in silence behind their younger brothers.

The dark-haired brunette looked down at the frozen ground, noticing how each step he took made a soft crunch against the snow. Then he raised his head and looked up at the sky. It was starting to shift into deep hues of orange, with faint traces of dark blue, a sign that it was slowly getting darker. It was barely approaching 5:00 PM, but with winter here, the sun seemed to set much earlier than it would in spring.

Romano narrowed his eyes slightly, squinting up at the sky as he tried to make out the shapes of the thick clouds drifting above. While doing so, he absentmindedly stepped a little closer to Prussia, his hand brushing lightly against the former nation's. The contact was brief, but it made his heart skip a beat. He quickly pulled his hand back, as if he'd been burned, his lips parting to offer some kind of apology, only for Prussia to speak first.

“Ah—sorry.” the albino said quickly, avoiding Romano's eyes as he turned his head awag, pretending to look off in another direction.

Romano looked at him for a moment, his heart pounding far louder than it should have, before managing to force out a quiet, “It’s fine.”

He shifted his gaze back to the sky, but the clouds no longer held his attention. The two nations walked in silence for a few more seconds... seconds that felt somehow more tense than before, until Prussia decided to speak.

“So...” the red-eyed man began, drawing out the word. “Has your opinion of Germany gotten any better while you've been here?”

Romano looked at Prussia with mild surprise, then furrowed his brows. “Germany...?” he asked, glancing first at the younger German before returning his gaze to the older one. “Your brother?”

Hearing that, the former nation quickly shook his head. “No, no, not West. Definitely not West. I meant Germany, the country itself, its lands, you know? Like, if you’ve come to see it as the awesome place it really is!” he clarified quickly, letting out a small laugh.

At that, Romano’s frown softened. “Ah,” he said, a look of understanding crossing his face as he lowered his gaze and paused to think. “I… suppose so.” he finally replied.

“That's it? No compliment whatsoever? Wow, South, you must really hate this place.” Prussia joked.

“No, I don’t!” the Southern nation said quickly, a bit louder than intended, prompting him to clear his throat and lower his voice. “I mean, I don’t hate this place like I used to. I like it. It’s okay. But I can’t say I love it or anything like that, since I haven’t really seen much of it,” he explained. “Most of what I’ve seen are tourist attractions, except for that mountain hike thing we did and those random walks like this one. They were nice, I won’t lie, but to truly call a country 'awesome', like you said, I’d need to experience more than just the tourist spots. I’d have to see the local side of things, you know? Get a feel for what the locals enjoy, and see the country as a whole, its goods and bads, and then decide from that perspective… if that makes sense.” he spoke slowly, gesturing lightly with his hands before dropping them to his sides and falling silent.

Prussia stayed quiet for a moment, his expression thoughtful. Then he gave a small nod. “I understand,” he said slowly. A moment later, he brightened up and flashed the older Italian a lopsided grin. “Then it’s up to me to change your perspective and show you just how awesome Germany really is!” he said with enthusiasm.

At that, Romano shot him a surprised look. “Uh, che? (Uh, what?)” he muttered, but Prussia didn’t seem to hear him. Instead, he raised a hand to shield his eyes from the low-hanging sun, squinting as he stared down the street ahead.

“The sun’s setting,” he murmured, almost to himself, before suddenly raising his voice. “Perfect!” With that, he came to an abrupt stop, primping Romano to stop as well. “I know a great spot to watch it,” he said excitedly, turning to the Southern nation with bright eyes. “It’s not touristy and the view’s amazing!” Then his expression turned a little sheepish, and he added, a bit nervously, “Um, wanna… ditch West and little Italy and, uh… come watch the sunset with me?”

Upon hearing that, Romano’s eyes widened, and he stared at the former nation as if he’d just said the most shocking thing in the world.

Prussia’s suggestion… it sounded a little... how to put it... romantic.

The thought made Romano feel strangely warm and a little lightheaded, despite the freezing weather. He had the sudden urge to fan his face but didn’t move. When he opened his mouth to respond, no words came out. His silence seemed to deflate Prussia’s enthusiasm, and the smile on his face quickly faded.

“Uh, actually, now that I think about it, that’s kind of a stupid idea,” the German said, shaking his head with a hint of hurt. “Never mind.” With that, he turned abruptly and walked away, his steps tense.

That brought the dark-haired brunette back to reality. He blinked, watching Prussia for a moment before breaking into a sprint. In a few strides, he stepped in front of the albino, blocking his path. Caught off guard, Prussia skidded to a stop and took a step back.

Romano took a deep breath, uncertain of what to say. After exhaling, he clenched his fists and finally spoke, “I... I want to watch the sunset...” he paused, then glanced away. “...with you,” he murmured, his cheeks flushing. He could feel Prussia’s gaze burning into him, and before he could react, the German gently took his hand, prompting Romano to lift his eyes and meet his.

The former nation had a small smile on his face, but despite its size, he looked extremely happy, as if he’d just received the best news of his life.

“Alright,” the white-haired man said gently, starting to walk backward while tugging Romano along by the hand. “Let's go.”

For some reason, those simple words made the Southern nation's heart flutter. Then, without warning, Prussia turned around—still holding his hand—and suddenly took off running, leaving Romano no choice but to sprint after him to avoid falling flat on the pavement.

The Italian glanced ahead, then looked back over his shoulder to see Germany and Veneziano still walking, gradually getting farther away. Veneziano had turned to give him a surprised look, and Romano responded with a small wave of his free hand before facing forward again, keeping his eyes on the ground to avoid tripping.

Veneziano watched his brother run off with Prussia until they rounded a corner and vanished from view. Then, he turned to Germany with a thoughtful expression.

“Huh...” he muttered. “Romano and Prussia just took off together and totally ditched us.”

At that, the blond man glanced back briefly, then looked at Veneziano. “Oh, it appears so, yeah,” he said, pausing for a moment before narrowing his eyes in thought. “I wonder why.”

“Hm, me too,” the Northern nation agreed before perking up. “Maybe they're going on a date!”

“A date?” Germany repeated in surprise, then gave a small nod. “Actually, that wouldn’t be unlikely… considering how obviously infatuated my brother is with yours.”

“And mine with yours!” the light-haired brunette exclaimed.

Germany stayed quiet for a moment before asking, a little puzzled, "Were we as obvious about our... feelings as they are? I don’t think we were."

“Oh no,” Veneziano replied with a laugh, waving his hand dismissively. “There’s no comparison, we were definitely worse! I had a small hunch, but you were completely clueless! It took us years to figure out our feelings, while from what I’ve seen, our brothers realized theirs in just a few days. So yeah, we were just as obvious, if not more.”

“Wow, thanks a lot. Just what I needed to hear.” the German said sarcastically, prompting a sheepish smile from Veneziano.

“Sorry, Germany,” the Italian apologized. “But look on the bright side, after everything we went through, we’re finally together! So in the end, it was all worth it!” he said happily, beaming.

Hearing that, the German smiled too. “When you put it like that, I can’t disagree with you.”

“You never disagree with me!” Veneziano said proudly, then hesitated a little. “Well, maybe sometimes...”

“I have to sometimes. We can’t always be on the same page, but that’s okay. Disagreeing is healthy in a relationships. It shows we each have our own opinions. And for nations like us, it’s part of what makes us human. So, you shouldn’t see it as a bad thing.” Germany explained.

“Wow, Germany! That was really poetic!” North Italy exclaimed, his smile coming back.

“It wasn't. I was just stating a fact.” the blue-eyed man replied.

"A poetic fact!" Veneziano said cheerfully, prompting an eye roll from his partner.

“Okay fine. Whatever you want to call it.” Germany said with a fond sigh before glancing around. “So, now that it’s just the two of us, what do you want to do?”

Hearing that, the Italian paused to think, then suddenly snapped his fingers. “Let’s have our own date!” he exclaimed. “We could go to the park and get some ice cream or something!” he gave Germany a playful wink. “We can’t let our fratelli (brothers) go on all the cute dates!”

“Pfft, fine. Let’s go get some ice cream.” Germany said, giving his lover’s hand a gentle squeeze.

“Yupii! I'm getting vanilla!”

“The classic?”

“Mhm, the classic!”

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.
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Romano wasn’t sure exactly where Prussia was taking him, but what he was sure of was that it had been ages since he’d run for so long. He had no idea how the former nation wasn’t tired.

However, despite his growing exhaustion, the Italian felt unexpectedly good... maybe it was the adrenaline from running, or perhaps it was because he was holding Prussia’s hand. He suspected it was the latter.

The two kept sprinting through Berlin’s streets as the sun dipped lower and lower, until Prussia suddenly came to a halt, making Romano almost crash into his back.

“We're here!” the albino announced cheerfully, releasing Romano’s hand and starting to walk slowly ahead.

The Southern nation felt a brief twinge of disappointment at the loss of contact but didn’t show it, simply falling into step behind Prussia. As he caught his breath and looked around, he realized they were no longer on the busy streets but were now standing on a bridge meant more for cars than for pedestrians.

“Where exactly is... here?” Romano asked, furrowing his brows.

“Only the best spot to watch the sunset in the entire world! There's no other place quite like this one!” Prussia declared enthusiastically, though his words didn’t exactly offer much explanation.

“Right,” Romano said, glancing around at the concrete, the low metal railing, and the few passing cars. He raised an eyebrow. “I'm pretty sure there are plenty of bridges like this in other parts of Europe.” he remarked.

Prussia turned to face the Italian, walking backward with a wide grin. “Yeah, but this one’s special!" he declared, coming to a stop, which made Romano halt as well and blink at him in confusion.

“What makes this one special?” South Italy asked, tilting his head a little.

“See for yourself.” Prussia said, placing a hand on the low metal railing and swinging himself over to the other side of the bridge, making the Southern nation’s eyes widen in surprise.

“Hey, what are you doing?!” Romano exclaimed, suddenly worried. “You could fall and break something, dumbass!” he hurried closer to the railing, gripping it tightly and leaning forward to watch Prussia. The German carefully walked sideways along the narrow edge of the bridge until he reached a curved concrete pillar supporting it. The pillar was shaped like a semicircular slide, making it easy to descend. Prussia placed his foot sideways on the pillar, almost like he was skateboarding, then smoothly slid down until he reached the ground below.

Romano watched him in surprise, mentally questioning what exactly Prussia was trying to accomplish. But his thoughts were interrupted when the albino turned around and waved at him excitedly.

“Come on!” Prussia said, motioning for Romano to come down. “It's a 100% safe!”

Hearing that, the hazel-eyed man shook his head to clear his thoughts, then gave the other man a look full of disbelief. “You want me to... go down there?”

“Yes!” Prussia exclaimed, nodding eagerly to emphasize his point.

“Aren’t there some… uh, stairs or something?” Romano asked, glancing around but, unfortunately, seeing no sign of any stairs.

“No, what kind of bridge has stairs?” the ex-nation said with amusement, laughing softly before gesturing for Romano to come down again. “Come on, I’ll stay right here and catch you if anything happens!” he added confidently, gesturing toward himself proudly.

“That’s not very reassuring...” South Italy muttered to himself. After a moment of hesitation, he decided, screw it. Taking a deep breath, he swung one leg over the railing, then the other, until he was standing on the narrow outer edge of the bridge, so steep that one wrong step could land him in the hospital.

Gripping the railing tightly with both hands, he carefully made his way toward the pillar Prussia had used to descend. Once there, he let go with one hand and positioned himself sideways, mimicking Prussia’s sliding stance. “Well, there go my good shoes...” he muttered under his breath, before slowly releasing his other hand and sliding down. Just as promised, the German caught him at the bottom, steadying him by his forearms.

“See? Totally safe!” Prussia said with a cheerful smile. Romano would have rolled his eyes if he weren’t standing so close to the other man, leaving him unable to react.

The former nation's hands stayed on him a moment longer before finally letting go. Prussia turned around and motioned for Romano to follow, which he did. As they walked, the Italian glanced around at the snow pushed away from the grass and the neatly trimmed lawn, wondering how the German people managed to keep everything so orderly, even in places where it wasn't necessary. His thoughts were interrupted when he noticed Prussia had stopped, so Romano stopped as well.

“Is this—” the Italian started to ask but was cut off when the albino suddenly grabbed his shoulders and spun him around to face the other way. “Ow, what are you—” he exclaimed, eyes wide with confusion, but again, before he could finish, Prussia interrupted him.

“Ta-da!” he exclaimed with excitement. “So, what do you think?”

At that, Romano fell silent and slowly turned his head to take in the view before him. To his surprise, it was actually... pretty. In the distance, snow-capped mountains stretched across the horizon, their lower slopes dotted with patches of green grass peeking through the snow. The sun was setting behind the peaks, casting a deep red glow as it dipped lower, painting the sky with bright oranges that gradually faded into soft purples above. It wasn’t like the coastal sights of Capri or Positano, with their vibrant flowers and sea views, but it was still nice. In fact, for Germany, it was beautiful.

“It's not bad.” Romano said slowly.

“Not bad? Oh, come on, older Italy, you can do better than that!” Prussia laughed. “You’ve gotta admit, it’s a pretty awesome view!” he added, nudging the Italian with his elbow, which earned him a half-hearted shove in return.

“Alright, fine. I guess it's a little awesome.” the Southern nation admitted, crossing his arms.

“Hell yeah!” Prussia exclaimed, then adopted an exaggeratedly thoughtful expression. “Climbing down that thing counts as one of the 'bads' you mentioned, and seeing this amazing view—” he motioned toward the scenery, “—definitely falls under the 'goods'.” he looked at Romano with a wide grin. "So... does that mean you officially think Germany is awesome now?"

Romano let out a snort at that. “This hardly counts as seeing anything.”

“Yeah, but it’s still something, and something awesome at that! So it’s gotta count for something!” Prussia said with conviction. “Wow, I said 'something' so many times.”

Romano smiled at that. “Pfft, dumbass,” he muttered, then added, “I guess you’re right. I suppose I can say Germany’s moved up a little on my list of countries I like.”

“It did?” the former nation asked with a grin before asking jokingly, “Is it higher than Italy?”

At that, South Italy quickly shook his head. “No, not higher than Italy. Nothing can compare to la mia patria (my homeland).”

“Eh, I guess that's fair. We all tend to put our own countries in first place.” the red-eyed man said with a casual shrug.

“If you were to come to Italy, to Maratea or Tropea or honestly anywhere, you’d definitely like my country more than yours.” Romano said, flashing the ex-nation a rare, playful smile.

Prussia looked momentarily surprised, then broke into a wide, excited grin. “Wait, are you inviting me to Italy?”

At that, Romano’s expression dropped and his face turned bright red. “No! That’s not—I mean, if you want to come to Italy, you can, but that’s not what I meant!” he stammered. “I was just trying to prove a point!” he caught sight of Prussia grinning even wider and groaned. “Stop looking at me like that, damn it!” he barked, quickly turning his back to him.

The white-haired man chuckled and stepped around the Italian to face him. “So when can I come, huh?” he teased.

“Never!” Romano snapped, turning his head to the side.

“Never?” Prussia repeated, raising his eyebrows in mild surprise.

“I'm banning you from entering Italy!”

“Hey, how come? What happened to my invite?”

“There was no invite!”

At that, Prussia put on a mockingly exaggerated pained expression. "Oh, how unfortunate! And here I was, getting all excited, thinking I'd get to go to Southern Italy," he sighed. "I guess I can keep dreaming, though."

Romano turned his head slightly toward the other man, and even though he knew Prussia was just joking, he still felt a bit bad. Swallowing his pride, he uncrossed his arms and lightly tugged on the German's jacket to catch his attention. Then, lowering his hand, he mumbled, “I didn’t really mean what I said... you can come to Italy, if you want...” he spoke slowly, hesitating. “I could... show you the peninsular side of Southern Italy... It’s nice.” Fidgeting with the hem of his coat, he looked away, unaware of how the albino’s smile softened into perhaps the most smitten expression he’d ever worn.

“Alright. I’ll come someday.” Prussia said quietly, shifting his gaze back to the view ahead.

“Okay…” Romano murmured, turning his gaze to the scenery as well. Something about the German’s words made him feel unexpectedly happy, and before he realized it, he was already looking forward—perhaps a little too eagerly—to the day Prussia would visit his country.

A comfortable silence settled between them, broken only when the older nation let out a soft laugh that drew the Italian out of his thoughts.

“What?”

“Nothing, I just now noticed you have a ton of snowflakes in your hair,” the albino said with amusement, nodding toward the Italian's head. “You kind of look like a snowman like this.”

At that, Romano raised a hand and ran it through his hair, which, just as Prussia had said, was covered in snowflakes. “Ah, what the hell,” he muttered, frowning slightly. Then he brought both hands up, running them through his hair in an attempt to shake off the snowflakes. “I should’ve brought a hat,” he grumbled with a huff, before turning his attention to the former nation and giving him a scowl, though there was no real bite behind it. “Stop laughing at me, you bastard. You’ve got snowflakes in your hair too.”

“Yeah, I know, but since my hair’s white, they aren't visible,” the red-eyed man said, motioning to his hair before pointing at Romano. “But on your dark hair, they are, because you’re a brunette!”

“Ha. Ha,” the Southern nation said sarcastically, running his hands through his hair a few more times before asking, “How’s this?”

Prussia glanced at him for a moment, then tilted his head slightly. “You still have some on your bangs.” he said, reaching up to gently brush them away with his fingertips, barely touching the strands.

In that moment, the Italian felt his breath catch in his throat.

His heart thumped once, then again, this time harder. He swallowed, eyes flicking up to study the German’s face. Prussia was focused, lips parted slightly, crimson eyes fixed on the stubborn snowflakes clinging to Romano’s hair. At first, he didn’t notice the intensity of the Italian’s gaze, but then his eyes shifted and met Romano’s.

The former nation stopped brushing the snowflakes from his hair and held Romano’s stare. For a moment, he stayed still, then his fingers gently brushed Romano’s forehead, slowly tracing down the curve of his temple until his palm hovered near his cheek.

A sudden cold gust of wind swept past them, but the Southern nation didn’t notice. All he could feel was the other’s touch, which was burning like fire against his skin. South Italy half considered closing his eyes and stepping closer, but before he could even process the thought, Prussia quickly withdrew his hand and stepped back, clearing his throat awkwardly.

“Sorry...” he apologized.

The hazel-eyed man blinked, momentarily stunned by the abrupt loss of contact. For a moment, he just stood there, staring at the former nation, who now refused to meet his gaze.

A soft, almost inaudible “Oh” slipped past his lips, hanging awkwardly in the cold air. His chest tightened with something that could only be described as disappointment.

It had felt like they were about to… to...

But then Prussia had pulled away.

The idiot... he probably had no idea what he was doing...

Romano stayed quiet for a moment before finally remembering he should say something.

“It’s fine.” he muttered, forcing the words out as his eyes dropped to the ground. He began nudging a small rock with the tip of his shoe to distract himself, when suddenly, his phone rang, startling him so much that he jumped in place.

He fumbled through his pockets until he found his phone, pulling it out so quickly it nearly slipped from his fingers and hit the ground. He stared at the screen for a moment before realizing the caller was his brother.

“Uh,” Romano mumbled, glancing at Prussia before shifting his gaze back to his phone. He straightened up, pressed the answer button, and held the phone to his ear. “Sì?”

“Ciao fratello! Come stai? (Hi brother! How are you?” Veneziano’s voice came through the line, as cheerful as ever.

“Um, bene… (Um, good...)” the Southern nation replied hesitantly.

“That's great to hear!” Veneziano exclaimed. He went quiet for a moment before asking, as loudly as his voice would allow, “How's your date with Prussia going?”

Romano nearly dropped dead on the spot. He fumbled with his phone, scrambling to turn the volume down. The call wasn’t even on speaker, but Veneziano simply talked so loudly that anyone within a meter could hear him, and that was a huge problem, because what he’d just said was absolutely insane!

Romano turned the volume down as low as it would go, then brought the phone back to his ear, shooting a panicked glance at Prussia before quickly turning his gaze away.

“The... the due date our, uh, boss gave us is in... um, two months,” Romano stammered, doing his best to keep his voice steady. His words didn’t match what Veneziano had just said, but that was intentional. He wanted Prussia to think he’d misheard, just in case he caught the ridiculous thing Veneziano had blurted out.

“Eh? What due date?” the younger Italian asked, confused. “What are you talking about, fratello?”

“Non c'è nessuna scadenza, idiota! Con quella tua stupida bocca, per poco non mi mandavi nella tomba! (There's no due date, you idiot! You and your stupid mouth almost sent me to my grave!)” Romano hissed angrily. “Perché devi dire queste cose, e per giunta in inglese! Dio! (Why do you have to say such things, and in English too! God!)” he exclaimed.

“Ah, sorry... I was just joking.” the Northern nation said apologetically.

“Scherza in italiano, per l’amor di Dio! Pru— (Joke in Italian, for God's sake! Pru—)” Romano nearly let the Prussian’s name slip out, but caught himself just in time. “Voglio dire, LUI era proprio accanto a me e sono sicuro che LUI l’ha sentito! (I mean, HE was right next to me and I'm pretty sure HE heard that!)”

“Ah... sorry again,” Veneziano said, his voice tinged with guilt. “I didn’t mean to cause you trouble...”

“Ugh,” the dark-haired brunette groaned. “E 'appuntamento'? Da dove diavolo l'hai tirato fuori? Stiamo solo... passando il tempo insieme. (And 'date'? Where the hell did you get that from? We're just... hanging out,)” he muttered reluctantly, then sighed. “Comunque, cosa vuoi? (Anyway, what do you want?)”

“Ah, well, Germany and I got back home, and I just wanted to ask if you and Prussia are planning to come back too. It’s getting pretty late.” Veneziano said quickly.

“Oh,” Romano said, his eyes briefly glancing up at the sky, now nearly pitch black, before dropping back down. “Non me ne sono nemmeno accorto... Va bene, sì. Torniamo indietro. (I didn’t even notice... Alright, yeah. We’ll head back.)”

“That's great! I want to watch a movie with everyone, and that can't happen if everyone's not here. And by 'everyone,' I mean you and Prussia.” North Italy admitted with a small laugh.

The older Italian rolled his eyes. “Whatever,” he muttered, then added, “Ci arriveremo presto... probabilmente. Quindi scegli qualcosa di buono. (We’ll be there soon… probably. So pick something good.)”

“I will!” Veneziano exclaimed. “See you soon, fratello!”

“Yeah... see you.” Romano ended the call and lowered the phone, slipping it back into his pocket with a quiet sigh.

For a moment, he just stood there, processing the brief conversation. Then, remembering Prussia’s presence beside him, he glanced over, only to find the albino already watching him with an unreadable expression.

“Everything ok?” the ex-nation asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Erm, yeah... uh, Veneziano just forgot about one of our, um... nation projects that our boss assigned, and I had to remind him the deadline’s in two months. Yeah.” Romano explained, stumbling over his words and sounding like he barely knew what he was talking about.

“Okay...” Prussia replied, frowning slightly, more confused than anything else.

“Anyway, Veneziano said he wants to watch a movie with everyone, so we should head back now. It’s already getting dark, and I don’t want us to get home too late!” the Southern nation said quickly, trying to change the subject.

At that, Prussia’s interest was piqued. “A movie? That sounds fun,” he said, then asked, “Which one?”

“I’m not sure. He didn’t say.” Romano replied.

“Ah, well, I hope it’s something awesome!” the albino exclaimed with a smile.

Upon hearing that, the dark-haired brunette smiled faintly. “You’re expecting too much from mio fratello. I’ll probably like whatever he picks since our tastes are similar, but if you’re hoping for something full of action, you should lower those expectations.”

“Damn,” Prussia said, feigning disappointment, which drew a small laugh from the hazel-eyed man.

Romano started walking back the way they had come, with the German trailing behind him. But, when they reached the pillar of the bridge they had descended, Romano stopped, studied it for a moment, and then turned to look at Prussia.

“So, how exactly do we get back up?”

At that, the albino gave an awkward laugh and sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. “Uh, you’re probably not going to like this...”

Romano raised an eyebrow. “Why...?”

Prussia shifted his weight from one foot to the other, glancing to the side briefly before meeting the Southern nation's gaze again. “Have you ever scaled a building or, well, anything like that before?”

“No…” the Italian said slowly, his eyes narrowing before suddenly widening. “Oh my God,” he exclaimed in realization, the color draining from his face. “I’m actually going to kill you,” he muttered, slapping a hand against his face. “I’m never getting out of here!”

“No, don’t say that!” Prussia said quickly, trying to reassure the Southern nation. “I’ll show you how to do it! It's really simple! You'll totally get the hang of it!”

Romano ran his hand down his face, then gave the other man a pointed look. “You definitely owe me for this.”

“Haha... yeah, that's fair.”

Chapter Text

It took the two nations a while, but after several words of encouragement from Prussia, and even more complaints from Romano, they eventually managed to climb back up onto the bridge. Once there, Romano made it very clear that if Prussia ever made him climb anything again, he’d punch him right in the guts. The German promised not to put him through something like that again, but whether he’d actually keep that promise was uncertain. He had a thing for anything thrilling, especially if it involved a bit of danger, and since he also had a thing for Romano and wanted nothing more than to spend time with him, it was probably only a matter of time before he dragged him into another reckless adventure.

Anyway, the two eventually made their way back to the busy streets of Berlin, which, despite the late hour, were just as crowded—if not more—than before. From there, they caught a bus home, both too tired to keep walking and not wanting to arrive too late, since walking would’ve taken much longer. Fortunately, the bus wasn’t too crowded, and they even managed to find two empty seats where they could sit for the entire ride. At some point, Romano dozed off, his head resting lightly against the window. When they reached their stop, Prussia hesitated to wake him up. The Italian looked so peaceful, and it felt wrong to disturb him. But of course, he had to. If he didn’t, they’d end up on the other side of the city, which was an outcome neither of them wanted.

They walked the short distance home in a pleasant silence. When they finally arrived at the house—around 8 PM—they were immediately ambushed by an overly excited Veneziano, who bombarded them with questions about where they had been, what they had done, and everything in between.

Prussia offered the younger Italian a vague, brief answer before slipping away, leaving Romano to deal with his brother and the task of explaining their outing. As much as Prussia didn’t usually mind entertaining the younger Italian, everything that had happened this evening had left his thoughts in a clutter.

He wanted to kick himself for letting his feelings slip. Oddly enough, Romano hadn’t seemed to notice… or maybe he had and just chose not to bring it up because he was upset? But he hadn’t seemed upset… Ugh, this was all so confusing.

The former nation was certain that if he stayed any longer and had to talk about what had happened, he’d probably end up blurting out something he’d regret. So, for the sake of both his pride and his heart, he figured it was safer to let Romano do the explaining.

Besides, he had promised Germany he’d finally catch up on the work he’d missed, including that one report Germany still hadn’t managed to finish. Getting dragged into a conversation with little Italy would make that impossible.

After greeting his brother, Prussia quickly headed to his room and changed. While the Italies caught up with one another, he got to work.

He started with his brother’s report, or rather, the barely written draft. After reviewing the source material, he read over the draft, scrapped a few parts, and opened a new document to start fresh. He carefully worked through the first section, then the second, making sure everything was done properly (which it was since he was awesome). Not even an hour had passed when, just as he reached the third and second-to-last section, he heard a knock at his door, followed by it slowly creaking open.

Prussia turned his head, expecting to see his brother. After all, Germany knew he’d started working on the report and might’ve come to check on his progress. But instead, it was Romano. The Italian peeked inside first, then slowly stepped into the room and quietly closed the door behind him.

Upon seeing the Southern nation, the albino slid his keyboard a bit farther away and turned slightly in his gaming chair, a small smile forming on his face.

And just like that, the report was quickly forgotten. Romano simply had that effect on him. No matter what he was doing, the Italian always managed to capture his full attention.

Raising a hand, the German waved at the other man. “Hey, Roma,” he began. “What’s up?”

At his words, the older Italian smiled faintly and waved back, just like he often did whenever Prussia waved at him, even when it wasn’t really needed.

“Hi,” Romano said as he approached the ex-nation and stood in front of him. His hazel eyes met Prussia’s before briefly glancing at the computer screen, then returning to him. Tilting his head slightly, he asked, “What are you doing?”

At that, the German gave Romano a sheepish smile. “Working.” he said with a small sigh.

“Oh?” South Italy exclaimed. He stepped closer to the desk, glanced at the report for a moment, then looked back at Prussia. “Why’s that?”

“Ah, well... I’m a bit behind on some things, heh,” the former nation admitted. “And the boss won’t be happy if I don’t at least make some progress.”

Hearing that, Romano gave a small nod of understanding but then furrowed his brows. He glanced at the report again before looking back at Prussia. “But this is managed by the Western office… I thought you only handled things from the Eastern side of Germany... or don’t you?”

At that, the ex-nation blinked, then waved his hand dismissively. “Oh no, I do only handle things from the Eastern side,” Prussia explained with a small shrug. “This is actually mein Bruder’s work, but he was getting really stressed out, so I decided to help him, because, well, I’m just that awesome!” he said with a proud grin, pointing at himself.

“Oh,” Romano said, a bit surprised. “You help your brother with his work?” he asked then added thoughtfully, “So this is how he manages to get everything done so quickly and efficiently.”

“Pfft, no,” Prussia said, shaking his head. “I don’t usually interfere with what he does. Everything he’s accomplished so far is all his own work,” he explained. “I only help out sometimes, and even then, very rarely. He's pretty stubborn about accepting help and insists on doing everything himself. But when things get too frustrating for him, I step in.” he clarified, “Trust me, West gets things done efficiently because he’s almost always glued to his work and is way too determined for his own good, not because he gets help from me.”

“Aha,” the Southern nation said thoughtfully. He paused for a moment before slowly circling around Prussia, causing him to swivel his gaming chair to keep Romano in view, who was now standing on his other side. “You know,” the Italian started, crossing his arms and leaning casually against the desk, “the more time I spend with you, the more I see how selfless you really are.” he gestured toward Prussia as he spoke.

“Really?” the red-eyed man said, resting his elbow on the desk and his head in his hand, raising an eyebrow at Romano. “I don’t really see myself as that selfless. But you keep saying that, along with stuff like nice and kind,” he added with a small laugh. “Honestly, you’re the only person I know who says things like that to me. Not even West compliments me this much.”

His words made Romano blush slightly, and he looked away. “Then he’s an idiot for that…” he muttered, which earned another laugh from the white-haired man.

Man, Romano really knew how to pull at his heartstrings. Prussia liked to think of himself as awesome, and he was, but genuine compliments weren’t something he heard often, especially not from other nations. Humans, sure. They praised him plenty, but that was different. Their lives were short, so even the smallest things seemed impressive to them. Nations, on the other hand, had lived through so much that nothing really surprised them anymore.

But Romano was over here throwing compliments at him like they were nothing... Well, in this case, they were something, because he actually meant them, and that... well, it made the former nation really happy.

Prussia himself didn’t think he was as good as Romano made him out to be, but if the Italian kept saying it, then it had to be true... Then again, Prussia didn’t treat anyone else the way he treated Romano, so maybe that was part of why the brunette saw him in such a good light. Prussia simply couldn’t help it, though. He liked Romano too much to treat him any other way than the best.

“What did you think of me before?” the German asked suddenly, his voice quiet. “I know you told me at the fair that you used to think we were too different to get along, but… was that really the only reason? Because back then, you seriously hated my guts, and I can’t help but feel like it had to be more than just us being different.” he tilted his head slightly, fingers absently running through his white hair.

At that, Romano turned back to look at Prussia, his brows drawn together in an apologetic expression. “Yeah...” he said quietly. “I used to hate you…” he admitted, his eyes widening slightly as if the words surprised even himself, before he quickly shook his head. He paused for a moment, then continued, “I thought you were way too obnoxious, loud and arrogant.” he made a small gesture with his hands. “I figured you only cared about yourself and that you liked getting under people’s skin just for the fun of it. I... kind of villainized you back then.” he confessed before adding hesitatingly, “A lot.”

The former nation blinked at the other's words, then forced a small, sad smile. “That bad, huh?”

“Yeah...” Romano agreed then shook his hands dismissively. “But I don’t think like that anymore. I haven’t for a while now, and you know that.” he said, giving the Prussian a slightly determined look.

At that, the German’s smile softened. “Yeah, I know,” he said gently, earning a pleased look from Romano. Then he straightened up, his smile turning amused. “So that means you don’t hate the awesome me anymore, right?” he asked, already knowing the answer as he gestured at himself.

“I wouldn’t be hanging around you if I still did,” South Italy scoffed, rolling his eyes, though a faint smile tugged at his lips. “After everything you’ve done for me... I don’t think I could ever hate you again.” he admitted, lowering his gaze to the wooden floorboards beneath him, his eyes softening. The sincerity in both his words and expression melted the albino on the spot.

“That’s…” Prussia started, but his voice wavered slightly, forcing him to awkwardly clear his throat and try again. “I mean, that’s one big statement, older Italy.” he said, attempting a joking tone. But the fondness in his voice slipped through, making it sound anything but joking.

Prussia mentally cursed himself for not controlling his emotions better. However, Romano didn’t seem to mind. He just looked over at him with those soft hazel eyes and... Ah, what had Prussia been thinking about again?

“I know, but it’s the truth,” Romano replied slowly, giving a small nod to emphasize his words. “Now, no matter what you do, I can’t help but think highly of you.” he paused, a flicker of hesitation crossing his face. “Actually, I—” he began, but quickly cut himself off, biting his lip, as if what he’d almost said was something he wasn’t ready to admit out loud.

There was a brief pause before Prussia spoke. “Actually… you what?”

At that, the Southern nation shot him a slightly panicked look before quickly shaking his head. “Nothing. It doesn’t matter,” he said in a rush. “Just a stupid thought.” he added, brushing it off.

The German opened his mouth, wanting to ask what kind of thought he meant, but before he could get a word out, Romano straightened up and moved around to his other side, leaving Prussia a bit dizzy as he hurried to keep up with him.

“Anyway,” Romano said, changing the subject, now standing a little farther from the albino. “I totally forgot why I even came here,” he sighed. “Veneziano wants to do that whole group movie-watching thing, and it can’t happen if you’re not there. So, I came to get you...” his voice trailed off as his gaze flicked between Prussia and his computer. He squinted slightly, then added, “But you’re working...” he raised an eyebrow. “Are you almost finished?”

Prussia wanted to press on and ask about the thing the other man clearly didn’t want to say out loud, but he held back. Romano probably had his reasons for keeping it to himself, and pushing him to spill it would make the German seem like a jerk. So, even though he didn’t want to, the former nation let it go.

“Right, the movie...” the ex-nation murmured to himself in realization. “I was so caught up in this report that it completely slipped my mind,” he admitted, then added quickly, “I still have two more sections to go through before I’m done. Though, I have a feeling it’s going to take a while...” he said, tapping his fingers against the desk.

“Oh,” the dark-haired brunette sighed softly. “So... you’re not coming then?” he asked slowly, his voice tinged with something close to disappointment.

At that, the German quickly shook his head. “No, no, no, I am coming!” he said, eager to clear up the misunderstanding. “I wouldn’t want to get on little Italy’s bad side, haha,” he joked, watching the disappointment on Romano’s face fade away. “Just give me a minute to finish this introduction I started for the third section, and I’ll join you!” he declared, then added sheepishly, “I can’t stand leaving paragraphs unfinished, it drives me crazy.”

“So, you’re not just neat when it comes to cleaning, you’re also obsessively neat with your work too,” the Southern nation said, a small smile playing on his lips. “You’re so weird, you know that?”

“Uh,” Prussia said, blinking in surprise. The feeling didn’t last long, though, as he soon smiled. After all, it was impossible not to when Romano looked at him like that. “I didn’t know that, but I guess I do now,” he said with a laugh. Then, proudly, he added, “But I’m weird in a good way! Not everyone can be as organized as me!” he paused to think for a moment. “Well, maybe except for West... but he doesn’t count, since he’s family!” he finished with a confident nod.

At his words, the Italian rolled his eyes in amusement. “You seriously can’t go without turning everything into something to brag about, can you?” he said with a small huff.

“Yup!” Prussia replied with a grin. “When you’re as awesome as me, even your flaws are something worth bragging about!” he said cheerfully, then tilted his head and added, “Not that I see being super neat as a flaw. I actually think it’s a blessing, since everything I do turns out perfect!”

“Whatever floats your boat, idiot.” Romano said, shaking his head in disbelief. But the growing smile on his face gave him away that he actually found Prussia’s words endearing.

The two stared at each other for a long moment before the Italian finally looked away and asked softly, “Can I stay here?” he ran a hand through his bangs, smoothing them down. “Until you finish that introduction paragraph or whatever it was you said you needed to do?” he lowered his hand and clasped it with the other, fidgeting slightly in a nervous gesture.

Prussia blinked, staying quiet for a moment before nodding quickly, his grin softening. “Yeah, of course.” he said gently, feeling himself melt like an ice cube when Romano perked up and looked at him with that happy expression of his. And when the Italian walked past him, murmuring a small 'Grazie' under his breath, Prussia nearly fell out of his chair like the most unawesome person ever.

The former nation quickly pulled himself together, pretending nothing had happened, and forced himself to focus on finishing the damn introduction paragraph, so he could finally go watch the movie with Romano! ...And with Germany and Veneziano. Right. They were going to be there too. Haha… it wasn’t going to be just him and Romano alone… on the couch... watching a romantic movie—

Oh, goddamn it! No! Romantic? Where the hell did that come from? Stupid, lovesick brain! There wasn’t going to be any romantic movie! Little Italy had probably picked a comedy or something. Ugh, he seriously needed to get it together.

The red-eyed man took a deep breath, cleared his mind, and settled back into work mode, focusing on the Word document before him. He began typing, his eyes shifting constantly between the document and the source material to avoid missing any important details. However, his concentration didn’t last long. Before he knew it, he was sneaking glances at Romano, who had started wandering around the room, examining the posters on the walls, the shelves filled with trinkets Prussia had collected over the years, and various other things that caught his interest.

A few more minutes passed, and Romano began opening drawers, looking curiously through them. Then, he opened the nightstand drawer beside Prussia’s bed and, in a surprised tone, asked, “You wear glasses?”

At that, the white-haired man turned in his chair to look at Romano, who was holding a glasses case in one hand and the glasses themselves in the other, which he had likely just taken out.

“Oh, uh, ja, I do,” Prussia replied with a small nod. “But they're not for long distances or anything like that. I can see just fine,” he added with a light laugh. “They’re anti-fatigue glasses. I use them when I’m on my computer or phone for too long. My eyes are, you know, red and all, and they have less pigmentation in the irises, which makes them more sensitive to bright light and stuff.” he explained, gesturing toward his eyes.

At his words, the dark-haired brunette tilted his head slightly, confusion flickering across his face. “But you’re not wearing them now... and you’re using your computer.” he said slowly, raising an eyebrow.

“Ah, yes, I don’t really wear them if I’m only using this thing for a bit,” the ex-nation said, motioning toward his computer. “I mostly use them when I have to stare at the screen for hours and know I’ll be exposed to a lot of blue light.”

“Oh,” Romano said, his expression shifting to one of understanding. “I see.” he placed the glasses case on the nightstand, then held the black-rimmed glasses in both hands, lifting them into the air. Closing one eye, he peered through one of the lenses with the other. “Hmm,” he hummed, narrowing his eye slightly before lowering the glasses and opening both eyes again. He glanced over at Prussia with an amused look. “So you’re really not blind, huh?”

Prussia smiled crookedly. “Told you!” he said proudly as he quickly stood up, making his chair slide back slightly. He glanced briefly at his unfinished paragraph, then looked back at Romano and thought, Screw it. He could finish it another time. The unfinished paragraph was going to annoy him, but whatever. He wanted to talk with Romano.

Walking over to the brunette, the German took the glasses from him and put them on.

“Don’t I look awesome with these on?” Prussia asked with a smirk. “I probably look super serious, like a businessman or someone important like that, haha!” he said confidently.

Romano, however, didn’t seem to agree. He let out a small “Pffft—” and quickly covered his mouth, trying to hold back a laugh.

“Hey, what’s so funny?” the albino asked, a slight frown appearing on his face.

At his words, the Italian waved his other hand dismissively before composing himself and lowering his hand from his mouth, still smiling as if he might burst out laughing at any moment.

“Nothing, nothing,” he said quickly. “It’s just that...” he hesitated for a moment. “You don’t look serious at all with these glasses on. You kind of just look like...” he dragged out the word, “...a nerd!” he finally exclaimed, biting his lip to hold back his laughter.

“A… nerd?” the albino repeated, mildly taken aback. Of all the things he’d braced himself to hear, that definitely wasn’t one of them. It felt like a screen had just shattered behind him, because he’d just been labeled something so unawesome! (Not that all nerds were unawesome, of course.)

“Sì!” Romano exclaimed, raising a hand to tap one of the lenses on Prussia’s glasses, making the German scrunch his face at the sudden touch. “I think I’ll start calling you four-eyes from now on.” the Italian said with an amused smile.

Prussia quickly grabbed his hand to stop Romano’s insistent tapping, startling the brunette a little before giving him a look of disbelief.

“Are you seriously putting me in the same category as my stupid cousin, Austria?” the albino asked, eyes slightly wide.

At that, the Southern nation glanced down at Prussia’s hand holding his, then back up at his face and gave a small nod. “Looks like it, yeah.” he replied with a small smile.

“Nooo,” the former nation groaned, releasing Romano’s hand and dramatically smacking his own forehead, as if the mere idea of being associated with his cousin was the worst thing imaginable. “I’m never wearing these again!” he declared. With a quick motion, he pulled the glasses off his face and tossed them onto the bed, then flopped down beside them, cradling his head in his hands. “I’m way too awesome to be lumped in with that uncool prick! He’s the four-eyed loser, not me!”

“Oh, grow up,” Romano said, rolling his eyes as he sat down beside the German. “You’re acting like being associated with that piano player is the end of the world.”

“It is!” Prussia retorted. “He’s so unawesome and prissy, while I’m literally awesomeness itself!”

At his words, the Southern nation gave him a gentle push accompanied by a huff, making the albino mutter a small “Ow!” as he straightened up and shot Romano a deadpan look. But Romano ignored him, turning his gaze away and falling silent for a moment, lost in thought. Then, with a curious expression, he looked back at Prussia.

“Now that I think about it,” South Italy said with a soft hum, “everyone in your family wears glasses. Your brother, you, and even Austria.”

The German thought for a moment, then gave a small nod. “I never actually noticed before, but you’re right... Though we all wear glasses for different reasons. I wear mine so my eyes don’t end up hurting, West has reading glasses, and that prick Austria is practically blind. He needs them just so he doesn’t walk into a pole or something.”

“Wow, you really don’t like your cousin, do you?” Romano said with a small laugh.

“Eh, I wouldn’t say I hate him,” Prussia replied with a shrug. “More like I tolerate him less than anyone else.” he paused before continuing, “He’s still family, and as much as I’d like to hate him, I can’t, because, as the saying goes...” he trailed off. “Uh, what was it again?” he furrowed his brows, thinking for a second before snapping his fingers in realization. “Aha, 'blood is thicker than water'! Yeah, that one!” he said proudly.

Romano tilted his head slightly and said, “I can’t disagree with you... but sometimes water feels thicker than blood when family drama gets involved.” he sighed and crossed his arms.

“True, but drama… that’s kind of what makes a family a family, you know?” the albino mused. “You can fight with them all you want, but deep down, you know you’ll make up, no matter what was said or done, and that they’ll always have your back. That’s not always the case with friendships... with friends, you kind of have to walk on eggshells sometimes. Hah.”

Hearing his words, the Southern nation smiled slightly. “I suppose you’re right,” he said slowly, holding his gaze on the German for a moment before looking away and staring at some random object in the room. “Anyway,” he added, clearing his throat, “you’re done with that report thingy, right?” he gave a small gesture toward the side of the room where the computer sat.

“Uhh,” Prussia drawled. Nope, he wasn’t done yet, but honestly, he didn’t feel like working on that report anymore. He just wanted to stay close to Romano. “I’ve still got a few things left to write, but it doesn’t matter. I’ll finish it tomorrow.”

At that, the Italian turned to him, his face lighting up. “Then what are we still doing here? Let’s go upstairs!” he exclaimed, quickly rising to his feet.

The former nation was briefly startled by the sudden movement but quickly shook it off and stood up. Before he could take a step, Romano grabbed his forearm and began dragging him toward the door, saying, “Dai, dai! (Come on, come on!)” as he pulled him along.

Romano pulled him all the way into the living room, where Germany and Veneziano were sitting on the couch—Germany scrolling through his phone while Veneziano looked utterly bored. As soon as the couple noticed them, the Northern nation immediately straightened up and pointed at them accusingly.

“Fratello, what took you so long?!” the younger Italian exclaimed, a slight frown on his face. “You were supposed to bring Prussia right away, but you were gone for twenty whole minutes!” he crossed his arms with a dramatic expression. “I was so bored waiting for you two!”

“Cry me a river.” Romano said, rolling his eyes.

Veneziano gasped in response. “Fratello, that’s so mean!” he exclaimed, before leaning back into the couch with a small pout, practically sinking into its cushions. “What were you two even doing for that long?”

Hearing that, the Southern nation grew slightly awkward. “Uh, well… Prussia had to finish some important work stuff, and I just… stuck around,” he said, glancing over at the older German. “Right?”

“Oh, uh, ja!” Prussia said with a quick nod. “It was just a report on globalization. Nothing too important. Er, sorry, little Italy.” he added with an apologetic smile.

At that, the younger Italian’s frown softened. “It’s okay...” he said slowly, then suddenly brightened up, as if he hadn’t been upset at all. “Anyway, what matters is that you’re both here now, so we can finally watch the movie I picked!” he exclaimed, motioning for Romano and Prussia to sit down. Romano sat beside his brother, and Prussia took the seat next to him.

“What movie are we watching, by the way?” the albino asked, prompting a small laugh from Veneziano.

“You'll have to watch and see, hehe!”

The German ran a hand through his hair and sighed, leaning back to get comfortable. His eyes stayed fixed on the TV as the movie began to play. Prussia didn’t recognize the film, but judging by the cheerful music, it was probably a romantic comedy or something similar. Although he wasn’t usually a fan of those kinds of movies, he figured it might still be fun.

About an hour into the movie, Veneziano started yawning, his eyes growing heavy. It was late, so it wasn’t surprising. Then, half an hour later, the younger Italian’s head began to wobble from side to side until he finally slumped against Romano, who groaned at the sudden weight.

“Veneziano, what the hell?” the older Italian whispered sharply, trying to push him off. “You’re squishing me!” he exclaimed. But the light-haired brunette was fast asleep, completely ignoring Romano’s words. Annoyed, Romano raised his voice. “Veneziano!” he shouted, causing his brother to suddenly straighten up like a board and blink in confusion.

“Huh? What?” the Northern nation mumbled, rubbing his eyes.

“Why did you insist on watching this movie if you’re so tired?” Romano asked, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow. “You should just go to bed instead of forcing yourself to stay up.” he added, sounding a bit scolding.

At that, Veneziano slowly shook his head. “No, I’m not tired,” he said, but immediately let out a yawn. “I want to watch the movie.” he added, turning his gaze back to the screen, though his eyes soon began to close again.

“Right,” South Italy said, exhaling softly. “At least get some proper rest if you’re going to sleep.” he then gently took his brother’s head and rested it on his shoulder.

“Okay…” Veneziano murmured, not fighting back and almost instantly drifting off to sleep.

“Italy's sleeping?” Germany asked suddenly, glancing at Veneziano before turning his gaze toward the older Italian.

“Yes, now be quiet, or you’re going to wake him up.” Romano replied in a hushed tone.

“Oh, alright,” the blonde man replied awkwardly, then turned his gaze back to the screen.

More time passed, and Romano himself began to feel sleepy. He stifled a yawn that threatened to escape. With about 20 minutes left until the movie ended, he didn’t want to fall asleep like Veneziano. Still, he couldn’t deny that gravity was pulling him down. Just as he was about to rest his head on his brother’s and close his eyes, Germany suddenly shifted, snapping Romano out of his drowsy trance. He turned to see what the younger German was doing.

Germany moved closer to Veneziano and gently shook him, trying to wake him up.

“Italy,” he called softly. The younger Italian shifted slightly, then opened his eyes and gave his boyfriend a sleepy look.

“What?” Veneziano mumbled.

“Do you want to go to bed?” Germany asked gently. “I don’t think it’s good for your neck to sleep like this.”

The Northern nation paused for a moment, then reluctantly pulled away from Romano. “Bene.” he said, slowly standing up with his boyfriend’s help.

“We’re turning in for the night,” the blue-eyed man stated, looking over at Prussia and Romano. “Make sure to turn off the TV once you finish the movie, okay?”

“Ok, gute nacht!” Prussia said, waving a hand at the pair.

“Gute Nacht.” Germany replied before leading Veneziano upstairs, who looked like he was barely able to keep his eyes open as he walked.

Romano watched his brother for a moment until he saw him and his boyfriend disappear up to the second floor. Then, slowly turning his gaze to the albino, he was slightly startled to find Prussia already looking at him.

“Uh, do you want to head to bed too since it’s late and all?” the Prussian asked quietly, shifting his eyes between the living room exit and Romano.

At that, the Italian blinked and shook his head. “No, I’m fine,” he replied. “I want to see how this thing ends.” he gestured toward the TV, then let his hand fall back onto the couch.

“Oh, okay.” the ex-nation said, turning his gaze back to the movie.

Silence settled between them as they continued watching the actors interact on screen, until Romano finally spoke again.

“You’re probably bored watching this, aren’t you?”

“Hmm?” the former nation said, his mind briefly lagging to process Romano’s comment before quickly replying, “Oh no, surprisingly, I’m actually enjoying it.”

“Really?” the Italian asked, bringing a hand to his face thoughtfully. “I thought you didn’t like non-action movies.”

“Eh, well, I don’t usually watch them, but this one’s pretty funny, and I have to give credit where it’s due,” Prussia replied, pausing for a moment before asking, “What about you? Is it your kind of movie?”

“Of course it is. Like I told you before, mio fratello and I have pretty similar tastes, even if it doesn’t always seem that way, so whatever he picks, I end up liking, even if just a little.”

“You’re so lucky. West’s tastes are totally different from mine. We rarely agree on anything unless it’s about cleaning or work,” the albino said jokingly. “We’re as different as night and day. But despite that, I still love him. He’s an awesome little brother… though not as awesome as me, haha!”

“Pfft, of course you’d say that,” the Southern nation said with a snort, grabbing a pillow from the couch and lightly hitting Prussia with it. The German laughed, took the pillow from Romano, and playfully hit him back.

“Bastard, that's my pillow!” the dark-haired brunette exclaimed.

“Since when?” the former nation asked with an amused grin. “Last time I checked, it was part of my house, so it’s basically mine—no, not basically, it actually is mine!”

At that, the Italian puffed out his cheeks and grabbed the pillow, trying to wrest it from Prussia’s grip. But Prussia pulled back, and when Romano gave a sudden, strong tug, the pillow flew off and landed a few feet away from the couch.

The hazel-eyed man glanced at the pillow on the floor, then looked back at Prussia and leaned back into the couch. “I’m not picking that up,” he said simply. “You provoked me, so it’s your fault.”

At his words, the German let out a small sigh. “I guess that’s fair,” he said, then stood up to retrieve the pillow from the floor. Though not before giving Romano a nudge and receiving a light swat in return.

After putting the pillow back in its place, the former nation sat down on the couch again, this time a little farther from Romano (completely by accident, of course, since he’d never do something like that on purpose). Romano immediately noticed.

South Italy opened his mouth to speak but then paused, staying silent for a moment before slowly and hesitantly scooting closer to Prussia until their shoulders touched, and they could both feel each other’s warmth.

The albino tensed briefly before relaxing, subtly leaning into Romano’s touch, a small movement that made the Italian'd heart skip a beat.

The two continued watching the movie in comfortable silence, neither saying a word as the ending drew near. As that happened, the Southern nation felt his eyes growing heavier and heavier, and the screen began to blur into patches of color rather than distinct characters and scenery. Romano closed his eyes briefly, intending to rest them for a moment before opening them again to stay alert. However, as more time slipped by, he found himself unable to open them again, and before he knew it, he was sound asleep.

.
.
.

Hours later, Romano woke up shivering like never before. He sluggishly sat up, looking around and realizing he was on the living room couch. He remembered falling asleep while finishing the movie with Prussia. Wrapping his arms tightly around himself, he tried to warm up. The Prussian was nowhere to be seen, and the room was pitch black except for the faint light spilling in from the terrace. Romano searched for a clock, and when he found one, he squinted to see it was around 4 a.m. He paused to think for a moment but didn’t have time, another shiver ran through him, causing him to tighten his grip on himself even more.

“Brrr...” the Italian muttered under his breath as his teeth chattered.

For some reason, the living room was unbearably cold, as if the heating had completely stopped working and ice had formed on its walls.

“What the hell...” Romano hissed, forcing himself to get up. He had so many questions. First—why hadn’t Prussia woken him up and just left him sleeping on the couch like this? And second—why was it so flipping cold in here?!

At that, the Southern nation frowned slightly—if there was one thing he hated most, it was the cold, especially without a warm jacket or blanket to keep his bones from freezing. With a swift movement, he quickly tried to make his way to his room, hoping it would be warmer. But before he could take another step, he tripped over a bump in the carpet and almost crashed into the coffee table. Luckily, he caught himself just in time.

“Stupido tappeto! (Stupid carpet!)” the dark-haired brunette hissed under his breath, scowling at the carpet. But as he turned, something caught his eye out of the corner of his vision.

Slowly, the Southern nation lifted his gaze toward the terrace connecting the living room to the backyard. Beyond the bright moonlight spilling in, Romano noticed that the large glass door was wide open, revealing a glimpse of the snow outside.

Romano blinked in slight surprise before a strong gust of wind rushed through the open door, hitting him straight in the face. He clenched his jaw as the cold made him feel like he was turning into an ice cube. Ah, so that’s why it felt like the North Pole in here. It all made so much sense now.

“D-damn it,” he exclaimed, scrunching his face in discomfort. “What idiot left the door open?” he headed toward the glass door and grabbed the handle, trying to pull it closed. But he stopped halfway when he heard movement coming from outside.

Raising an eyebrow, Romano leaned forward and peeked outside, assuming some animal had wandered into the yard and was messing with whatever the German brothers had left out there. He looked to his right, then to his left, only to freeze.

That wasn't an animal.

It was... Prussia.

Huh?

The Italian frowned and rubbed his eyes, half-convinced he was seeing things. But when he lowered his hand and the albino was still there, he realized that no, he wasn’t imagining it. That was definitely Prussia.

The former nation sat in one of the outdoor chairs, the kind clearly meant for warmer days, now mostly buried under a blanket of snow. He wore nothing but a short-sleeved shirt, as if the freezing air didn’t affect him in the slightest. With his elbow propped on the armrest and his head resting in his hand, he gazed up at the sky with an expression that was almost... empty.

The hazel-eyed man tilted his head slightly in confusion. What was Prussia doing out on the porch at four in the morning?

Hmm...

Could it be that he was having trouble sleeping?

...

No, probably not. Prussia wasn't the type to have those kinds of problems. As he always put it, he was 'too awesome' for that sort of thing. He must’ve had a reason for sitting out on the porch… at four in the morning… in this unbearable cold…

Yup. So Romano should probably just leave him alone, mind his own business, and go back to bed. He was exhausted and freezing his ass off.

The Italian started to turn away, but before he could leave, he cast one more glance at the Prussian. He couldn’t quite pinpoint it, but the albino looked unusually... sad compared to how he normally appeared. That stopped Romano in his tracks.

Something seemed to be bothering him... but what exactly?

A wave of concern washed over the Southern nation, one he simply couldn’t bear and was desperate to ease immediately.

Damn it.

Against his better judgment, he stepped out onto the porch. The cold hit him instantly, raising goosebumps across his skin, but he didn’t stop. He made his way quickly to the other man. A second porch chair sat beside Prussia, covered in snow. Romano brushed it off hastily and sat down, trying his best not to shiver too much.

When he noticed Romano’s sudden appearance, the former nation looked slightly startled, as if he hadn’t expected to see anyone at this hour, which was fair. No one would really expect to run into someone they knew at four in the morning.

The albino blinked, then straightened up and turned slightly to face the Italian.

“Romano?” he said, his voice laced with confusion and surprise. He paused, as if thinking something over, before a thought seemed to strike him. “Did I wake you?” he asked, but didn’t give Romano a chance to answer before rushing on. “Gott, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to,” he muttered, cursing under his breath as he ran a hand through his white hair in mild distress. “I swear I tried to be as quiet as possible.”

Romano looked at Prussia, his hazel eyes briefly drifting to the hand tangled in his hair. For a moment, he noticed how the German’s white strands shimmered almost silver in the moonlight, before shifting his gaze back to his face.

“It’s fine. You didn’t wake me,” the dark-haired brunette replied. “The cold did.”

“The cold?” Prussia repeated, then realization dawned on him. “Oh, I forgot to close the terrace door... damn,” he muttered quietly, scrunching his face in mild frustration before sighing. “Sorry, that’s definitely on me. I should’ve been more careful.” he gave a small, apologetic smile. “I hope you’re not upset with me.”

The dark-haired brunette stared at the Prussian for a moment before shaking his head. “I’m not,” he said softly. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Ah, I’m glad.” Prussia said with a light laugh, though it lacked his usual energy and warmth, sounding a bit strained.

It made Romano's worry grow.

With a slight frown, the Italian asked, “What are you doing awake at this hour?” Just as the words left his mouth, a strong gust of wind hit him from the side, making Romano grit his teeth and add in a stiff tone, “And staying out in this God-forsaken cold, too?”

At his words, the white-haired man’s eyes widened slightly, and his expression faltered for a brief moment before he quickly recovered, shaking his hands dismissively.

“Oh, I’m just… uh,” he hesitated, then gestured toward the sky a bit too eagerly. “Stargazing! Yeah, haha,” he laughed awkwardly. “You know how much I love the stars, and at this hour, they’re the best to look at!” he quickly turned his gaze upward, pretending to be captivated by the sky. But Romano wasn’t convinced, especially since Prussia was bouncing his leg anxiously, which was a dead giveaway that he wasn’t telling the truth.

“You’re lying.” the Italian stated flatly, making the other man flinch.

“I... I’m not. I really just want to look at the stars…” the albino repeated, his voice uncertain, as if even he didn’t fully believe his own words.

Romano raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms, giving Prussia an incredulous look. The German faltered, then let out a long sigh before sinking back into his chair.

“Okay, fine, you got me,” he said in defeat. “I’m not out here to look at the stars. Actually… funny thing, I woke up a little while ago and just couldn’t fall back asleep, so I came out here for some fresh air to clear my head, you know?”

At that, the Southern nation’s expression softened with sympathy as he turned more toward the other man.

“Unfortunately, I know that feeling all too well,” Romano said slowly, then asked, “But why? Are you okay?”

“Uh, yeah... I’m just a bit too hyper, that’s all...” Prussia replied, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

“Really? Just that?” Romano pressed on.

“Ja, just that...” the albino said, but he averted his gaze to the side as he spoke, causing the Italian to narrow his eyes slightly.

“You’re a terrible liar, you know that?” the dark-haired brunette said with a long exhale, his breath freezing into mist in the cold air. Damn, it was cold. “I don’t know how you’ve managed to get through life with such poor lying skills,” he added, letting the words hang between them for a moment. “I can tell something’s bothering you, and honestly, it’s worrying me. I think we’ve reached a point in our... friendship where you can tell me what’s on your mind,” he said, noticing the other man nervously tapping his fingers against the armrest. Prussia didn’t respond, only looking away with a tense expression, so Romano pressed on.

“Yesterday, you told me to confide in you because you wanted me to get better. You said you wouldn’t judge me, that you’d just listen. And you did. You listened to everything I said without interrupting. Then you even took the time to help me see things differently, to change how I viewed myself after all these years.” he gestured at himself. “You changed the way I see myself.” he gave a small, faint smile at the memory. “Now, I don’t hate myself like I used to. And I’m really grateful for that. I’m sure you know it.” he glanced away briefly before meeting Prussia’s intense red eyes. “You did so much for me, and I want to do the same for you. I’m not good at this... comforting people... but I want to try... for you.” Romano brought his hand to his chest, his voice filled with determination. “So please, confide in me too.”

Prussia continued to stare at him for a long moment, during which the wind picked up, howling harshly through the night. Romano shivered, clutching his shirt tightly in an effort to ground himself. The heavy silence made him worry that his words had somehow upset the other man, causing his determination to waver. But before he could dwell on the disappointment, Prussia suddenly averted his red eyes and looked down at the snow-covered porch.

“You’re right,” the former nation said slowly. “It wouldn’t be fair of me to keep what’s bothering me to myself.” he let out a long, tired sigh before casting a small smile toward Romano, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I couldn’t fall back asleep… because I had, how should I put it… a bad dream.” he admitted, causing the Italian to blink in mild confusion.

“A bad dream?” South Italy repeated, unsure if he’d heard correctly.

“Yeah, a nightmare, if you will.” Prussia nodded.

The Southern nation paused, trying to understand how a nightmare could affect someone like Prussia, someone who always bragged about loving wars, battles, and all things blood-soaked. It didn’t quite add up. But the German looked genuinely tense, and Romano could see he wasn’t pretending. So, instead of arguing, he simply asked, “What was it about?”

At that, the former nation clasped his hands together and began fidgeting slightly. “Nothing too bad, hah,” he said quickly. “Just…” he trailed off, then stopped himself and looked at Romano. “But first, please, try not to worry when I tell you, alright?”

Romano frowned, doing the exact opposite and beginning to worry even more inwardly. Still, he gave a small nod in response.

The red-eyed man inhaled sharply, then finally let the words tumble out of his mouth. “I dreamed that I... disappeared,” he admitted. “That I was forgotten by everyone, and just faded away, because I had no lands to keep me from vanishing, nothing to anchor me to this world…” his features strained slightly at his own words before he swallowed hard and looked off to the side. “It’s pretty silly, right? Hah. I mean, I have no reason to worry about something that dark. I’m awesome. Too awesome to be forgotten, right? Heh... just a dumb dream, nothing more.”

Upon hearing those words, Romano froze, not from the cold, no, he hardly felt the cold anymore, but from the sudden fear that gripped his chest. His eyes widened, and his mouth parted slightly in shock. He tried to speak, but no words came out. It was as if his vocal cords had been cut.

What kind of dream was that?

Why would Prussia even dream something like that?

What did it mean?

Romano found himself wondering, the thoughts racing through his mind too fast for him to process properly. For some reason, it all gave him a sense of déjà vu, like he had thought about this before... Wait, he had! This very morning, when he’d searched for the former nation but got caught up in a conversation with Veneziano, his mind had briefly drifted to Prussia, worrying about him disappearing. At the time, he pushed the thought aside, telling himself not to worry. But now, recalling it, he couldn’t help but feel even more concerned than before.

What kind of foreshadowing was that? The thought left a bitter taste in his mouth, and the Italian felt himself getting sick. His heart was racing, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t slow it down. Cold sweat formed on his forehead. God, he felt awful.

Romano didn’t want to think about it, but his mind kept pairing the two words “Prussia” and “disappearing” together, playing them over and over like a broken record. Suddenly, a sting welled up behind his eyes, and he blinked rapidly, trying to hold it back. No, no, no. It was just a dream. He had to keep telling himself that. Just a bad, terrible dream. It didn’t mean anything. It couldn’t mean anything. It simply couldn't.

Taking a deep breath, the Southern nation exhaled slowly, trying to steady himself, even if just a little. He needed to stay calm. He had told Prussia to confide in him, and now here he was, panicking more than the former nation himself. What kind of person would he be if he let this all become about himself? A selfish one, exactly. He had to pull himself together.

God, no wonder Prussia looked so uneasy... poor guy.

“It’s not stupid...” Romano said, his voice shaky before he quickly cleared his throat. “It’s...” he trailed off, wanting to say it was a very sad dream, but stopped himself. Instead, he said, “I wasn’t expecting you to say that... Why would you even dream about something like that? Did something happen today or... ?” he tried to think back but couldn’t recall anything that might have triggered it.

Then a dark thought crossed his mind, one that almost made his heart stop. He clenched his fists and asked slowly, “Could it be because of... what I said to you a few days ago? When I had that outburst and told you to... to...” he couldn’t bring himself to say the words, they made him feel too guilty. He regretted what he had said to Prussia that day and didn’t think he would ever stop regretting it. It had been the cruelest thing he could’ve said, and he still couldn’t believe Prussia had forgiven him so easily. If he’d been in the former nation's place, he wasn’t sure he could’ve done the same...

Luckily, Romano didn’t need to finish the sentence, the German seemed to understand immediately.

Prussia quickly snapped his head toward Romano, his eyes wide with surprise.

“What? No!” he exclaimed. “Gott, no! It’s not because of that! I literally hadn’t even thought about it until you reminded me. I’ve actually forgotten all about what you said back then!” he gestured wildly with his hands. “Don’t tell me you still feel bad about it...” his face twisted into a small, distressed look. “I told you, I forgave you... didn’t I?”

At the other’s words, the Italian let out a soft sigh of relief, feeling his heart slow down.

“Yes, you did,” Romano said quietly, swallowing hard before continuing. “Sorry for bringing it up... I just... put two and two together, you know? And came to that conclusion...”

The albino’s face softened with sympathy as he reached out a hand to the Southern nation, wanting to offer comfort. But Romano quickly swatted it away, causing Prussia to look at him with surprise, which then turned to hurt. Seeing that, Romano felt guilty. He hadn’t meant to push him away. Yet, he had his reasons. It wasn’t him who needed comfort, but Prussia.

“Anyway,” the Italian said, looking away from the German’s sad expression. “This isn’t about me.” he added, causing Prussia to look slightly confused. Then he turned his gaze back to the albino, meeting his dazed red eyes, like deep blood-red wine glowing softly in the moonlight.

Prussia blinked, then let out a quiet, “Oh,” followed by a small nod. “Right...” he whispered, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. He took a deep breath and parted his lips to speak, only to shut them again. His hands fidgeted, clasping, unclasping, before he ran a hand through his already-messy hair, making it even messier.

It took a moment before he finally spoke again.

“Ever since the dissolution of my country in 1947, I’ve been having dreams of... well, disappearing,” he admitted slowly, his face tightening briefly with discomfort before he forced himself to relax. “They used to be frequent. Vivid. Scary, even. But as time went on, I came to terms with what happened... and with that acceptance, the dreams started to fade. They became less frequent, less... real.” he paused, staring at nothing in particular. “Still, every now and then, I get one, like the ones I had back in the ’50s. Nightmares that feel so real, like I’m actually dying. When I wake up, I feel panicked and I can’t fall back asleep.”

Prussia sighed deeply, then turned to look at Romano. “I hadn’t had a dream like that in a long time... until tonight. I don’t know what triggered it. And honestly, I don’t really care. I just want my mind and my heart to calm down so I can forget about it... at least until it happens again.” his voice grew bitter at those last words, but he quickly wiped the expression off his face by dragging a hand down it in an attempt to compose himself. “But don’t worry about me,” he added, forcing a small smile. “Dreams are just dreams. They don’t mean anything. They’re just fragments of my imagination. I’m fine. I promise you that.”

The smile was meant to be reassuring, but to Romano, it was anything but. If anything, it only made the ache in his chest worse.

Romano had never truly considered just how deeply the dissolution of Prussia had affected the other man. He’d always assumed the former nation simply didn’t care. After all, Prussia had never shown any visible signs of sadness. He was always so loud and cheerful... So naturally, Romano had thought it didn’t bother him. But he’d been so wrong.

Because, honestly, how could losing your land and people not break your heart? It was obvious that it would. Every nation that had ever been dissolved had been devastated by it, why would Prussia be any different? He had just masked it too well. So well that no one had been able to tell what he was truly feeling beneath the surface.

Well... maybe Prussia had told his brother or close friends and asked them to keep it to themselves, and it was only the people who weren’t close to him, like Romano, who didn't know. After all, back then, Romano and Prussia hadn’t been on good terms, at least not from the Italian's side, so it wasn’t surprising that he never said anything to him...

Honestly, Prussia had to be the strongest person Romano knew. To keep living for so many years after losing everything seemed almost impossible. Yet, somehow, the German had managed to defy the odds, staying strong, not giving up, and keeping himself relevant by refusing to let the other nations forget him. That wasn’t something just anyone could do. It took real guts to push through that kind of pain.

Still, poor him. He was probably so afraid of disappearing. That thought made Romano afraid too. So, so afraid.

The dark-haired brunette felt his mouth go dry, so he swallowed hard in an attempt to get rid of the sandy feeling on his tongue, but it didn’t help much. It felt like there was a lump lodged in his throat. Damn it. What was he supposed to say? He’d never been good at offering comfort, and now he felt completely at a loss. Romano had never known anyone who’d gone through what Prussia had, except maybe his grandfather, but he’d been too young back then to really understand or remember. What could he possibly say to make this better? Augh. It was frustrating. When Prussia had comforted him, he’d known exactly what to say, exactly what Romano had needed to hear. Now, Romano needed to do the same. But how? What could he say that would actually make a difference?

The Southern nation sat in silence for a long moment, the cold gradually numbing his limbs until he instinctively crossed his arms in an attempt to warm himself. Finally, he opened his mouth to speak.

“Don’t…” he began hesitantly, then pushed through. “Don’t promise me something you can’t keep, you bastard.” he took a deep, cold breath and exhaled slowly. “You say you’re fine, but it’s clear you’re not. I might not understand what it truly means to be dissolved, but I know what it means to suffer. You don’t have to come up with excuses or tell me bullshit like ‘dreams are just dreams’ and that’s all there is to it, because for you, they clearly aren’t. They mean something more.” he paused briefly before continuing. “They’re probably… a reflection of the fear you have about being dissolved… about thinking that without a proper country to your name, you’re bound to disappear… and I, uh…” his voice dropped to a whisper. Damn it. He didn’t know what else to say.

Romano’s hazel eyes quickly scanned the other man’s face, noticing how his smile first twitched and then completely faded. The Prussian seemed to crumble as he lowered his gaze to the ground.

“Wow, South,” the albino said in a strained voice. “Never knew you were a mind reader, haha.” he let out a small laugh, but it sounded hollow and forced.

The Southern nation wanted to get up and hug the other man tightly, to reassure him that he wouldn’t disappear, but he held back. Instead, he waited silently for Prussia to say more. At first, the German remained lost in his thoughts, the howling wind the only sound between them, until he finally spoke.

“You’re right, you know? I am scared... really scared. I’ve been like this for the past seventy-eight years,” Prussia admitted slowly. “It used to be worse. When my dissolution happened, I was devastated. I couldn’t act normal because the fear ate away at me like nothing else. Even simple things like talking or eating became difficult. All I could think about was death. Back then, I was certain I was going to disappear. But somehow, I didn’t... even though I was absolutely sure I would.” his voice trembled a bit as he gripped the armrest of his chair like it might run away.

“After that, I used to pray a lot to keep on living. I’d cling to my old surcoat from my Teutonic Knights days since it was a holy order and all, and recite prayer after prayer.” he trailed off for a moment. “I don’t know how much that helped, but it calmed me down. And hey, I’m still here. I don’t do it anymore, of course. After a few years, I came to terms with my dissolution, and now it doesn’t bother me as much. But… despite moving on, there’s still that small flicker of fear in my chest. Usually, I don’t feel it, but when those nightmares come, it grows until I can’t slow my heartbeat.”

Prussia furrowed his brows. “I wouldn’t wish dissolution on anyone, not even the people I hate. It’s so degrading, no soul should have to go through it.” he raised his hand from the armrest and stared at his palm intensely. “I don’t know how to explain it, but ever since 1947… I’ve become pretty paranoid about myself. My friends say dissolution didn’t change me, but I think it did.” his voice dropped to a whisper as he clenched his hand into a fist.

“Back when I was relevant, I loved charging into battle and getting hurt. I healed fast and bounced back like nothing happened, then rubbed it in my enemies’ faces. Bleeding used to thrill me. It fueled me. But now, it just scares me.” he closed his eyes, pausing as if the words were painful to say, then sighed. “Now, when I get hurt and see blood, I panic. I worry the wound isn’t healing like it should, that I’m healing slower than before... Maybe it’s just me. I get the same kind of paranoia when I look in the mirror and think I’m getting older. But whenever I ask those around me if I look different, they all say I look exactly the same as I did centuries ago. So... I really don’t know what to make of it.” he spoke slowly, almost pitifully.

“But... all of these things, as silly as they might sound, make me feel… mortal. They make me question my immortality, wonder if I still have time on this Earth or if it’s already up. I wonder if I’m slowly being forgotten, stuck in the past while everyone else moves forward into the future.”

With that, Prussia leaned forward and buried his head in his hands for a moment, struggling to hold himself together. Then he straightened up and looked at Romano with a pitiful expression. “You probably think I’m crazy right now, huh?”

South Italy blinked, slightly startled at being addressed. He’d been so focused on Prussia’s words that he’d completely gotten lost in them. For a moment, he stayed quiet. God, he felt awful for Prussia. So, so awful it almost made him want to cry. How had he not noticed the pain the former nation had been carrying for the past seventy years? How could he have been so blinded by his own stupid hatred that he’d missed it completely? Romano wanted to go back in time and kick his past self for being such an idiot.

The Southern nation brought a hand to his chest, feeling his pulse racing beneath his fingers. Slowly, he curled them into the fabric of his shirt, trying to ground himself. He still didn’t know what to say, didn’t want to risk saying the wrong thing and making Prussia feel even worse, not after everything he’d just heard… things that made his chest ache for the other man. But at the same time, he wanted to respond, just like Prussia had done for him the night before.

Romano slowly shook his head before softly saying, “No… I don’t think you’re crazy. Not at all. I think you have every right to feel the way you do. You lost… everything that makes a nation a nation. Your lands, your people… I’d think you were crazy if none of that had bothered you.”

He paused for a moment to choose his next words carefully.

“You say you’ve changed, and maybe you have. I can’t say for sure, since I didn’t really know you well before. But if you believe it, then there’s probably some truth to it. Still, I don’t think it’s a bad change, not the way you see it. I don’t think it’s made you weaker or less immortal or whatever you’re afraid of. Because change doesn’t erase who you are. If anything, I think it proves that you’re strong. That your name truly deserved to be written in history books.”

He glanced at the albino and noticed how the pitiful look on his face slowly shifted to something closer to surprise. It gave Romano the courage to continue.

“I know you miss the days when you still had your lands and people. I won’t tell you not to. That kind of loss… I get it. I love my own land and people too, and I think I’d be devastated if I lost them. But what I can say is… you don’t need those things to be relevant. You already are.” Romano gave a small nod for emphasis. “You’ve been really kind to me this whole trip. Honestly, you’re the reason I can sleep at night and not feel like smashing the mirror when I look into it. That kindness you’ve shown me, that’s what makes you relevant. Not the empire you once had. Not the power you used to hold. But this. Who you are now.” he brought his other hand to rest over the one on his chest.

“I don’t think you’re ever going to be forgotten. You’ve got people who really care about you. But if you are worried about that… just know that I won’t forget you. I won’t let myself forget you. Even if the whole world turns its back and forgets, I’ll still remember. And as long as someone remembers you… you won’t disappear.”

For a long moment, there was only silence.

Prussia remained frozen, staring at Romano in utter awe. His crimson eyes blinked once, then twice, as if he couldn’t quite process what he’d just heard. Then, to Romano’s surprise, he let out a quiet, breathless laugh. Somewhere between disbelief and relief.

“Damn, older Italy,” the former nation said, a shaky smile tugging at his lips. “You really know how to tear a guy’s heart to shreds.”

At that, the Italian frowned slightly. “What—” he began, but before he could finish, Prussia raised a hand to his red eyes and covered them, confusing Romano. Then, he leaned forward, resting his elbow on his knee while keeping his hand firmly in place over his face.

At first, South Italy didn’t understand what was happening, but then he noticed the slight tremble in the albino’s shoulders, and it hit him. Prussia was… crying.

Romano’s mouth parted slightly in shock as the realization dawned on him, and he let his hands fall into his lap. He stared at the German with wide eyes, then blinked rapidly, trying to shake off the surprise. Slowly, the dark-haired brunette stood up and moved in front of Prussia. He hesitated for a moment, unsure of what to do, before gently raising his hands to cradle Prussia’s head and pulling him closer. Though he couldn’t fully embrace him since the albino was seated and he was standing, it was the closest thing to a hug he could manage.

The former nation tensed briefly before wrapping his arms tightly around Romano and leaning into him. The sudden closeness made the Italian’s heart skip a beat, but he quickly regained his composure.

“There, there...” the Southern nation murmured softly, gently running his fingers through Prussia’s hair. As he did, he couldn’t help but notice how cold the German’s hair felt. It was almost frozen to the touch. Slowly, Romano let his hand slide from Prussia’s head and moved it down his arm, feeling just how cold his skin was. How long had the ex-nation been out here in the cold before Romano woke up? He was as cold as an icicle, maybe colder.

Worry crept across the Italian’s face, but he didn’t rush to act. Instead, he kept soothing the German with slow, gentle strokes through his hair, allowing Prussia to release his emotions. Only when the crying finally ceased did the hazel-eyed man softly tap him on the shoulder.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hm?” the albino murmured, keeping his face buried in Romano's shirt.

“You’re really cold,” the hazel-eyed man said gently. “And honestly, I’m freezing my ass off too. So, how about we head back inside before we both get hypothermia?” he shivered as a stronger gust of wind blew past, making him let out an involuntary 'Brr'.

Prussia was quiet for a moment before mumbling something under his breath. Then, very hesitantly, he pulled back from the Italian. Seeing this, Romano took a few steps back to give him some space and watched as Prussia quickly rubbed his eyes. Then, the albino begrudgingly stood up and gave Romano a small smile.

“Okay, yeah, let’s go inside,” he said, almost breathlessly. “I can’t feel my hands.” he joked, shaking one as if to prove his point.

At that, the Southern nation simply rolled his eyes but smiled slightly, relieved that the Prussian was feeling better.

The two went back inside, and once they entered the house, the Italian made sure to close the terrace door and pull the curtains shut to keep out the cold. He then turned on the lights and quickly hurried over to a radiator, crouching beside it and pressing his cheek against the warm metal. A content sigh escaped him as the heat seeped into his skin, and he closed his eyes, simply enjoying the warmth. After a moment, he heard footsteps, and suddenly the light was blocked in front of him. Romano furrowed his brows and cracked one eye open.

“Pfft, what are you doing?” Prussia asked, tilting his head in amusement.

“Warming up,” the Italian replied honestly. “I have to unfreeze my blood. I stayed out too long in that terrible cold. Seriously, we’re both stupid for going out without a coat or something.”

At that, the German let out a small laugh. “Yeah, I’ve got to agree with you,” he said, then added, “Think you can let me have some of the radiator too?”

“No,” Romano mumbled, feeling too comfortable to move. But then realization dawned on him, and he quickly stood up. “Actually, yes! You’re the one who needs it most!” he exclaimed, leaning forward to pull the German toward the radiator and make space. “Damn, your hands are cold as ice.” he remarked, letting go of Prussia, who leaned back against the radiator, keeping his hands pressed to its hot metal. He seemed genuinely happy to finally warm up.

“Sorry,” the former nation said after a moment. “I didn’t notice how cold it was. I was too busy being stuck in my own head.”

The Italian let out a small sigh. “I get it, but still… don’t torture your body like that. I’m pretty sure this much time out in the cold would’ve landed a human in the hospital,” he said, shaking his head disapprovingly. Then he looked at Prussia and gave him a small smile. “Good thing you’re a nation, though.”

At his words, the German blinked in surprise, then slowly smiled back. “Yeah, good thing I am.” he said softly, his eyes drifting across Romano’s face as if trying to memorize every detail. The Southern nation looked away, a slight blush rising to his cheeks.

There was a long, quiet pause between them, during which South Italy gradually grew more tired now that the high from his conversation with Prussia had faded, before the ex-nation finally spoke again.

“I’m hungry.” he said, a thoughtful look on his face.

At that, the Italian tilted his head slightly. “Really?” he asked incredulously, then glanced toward the kitchen. “Then eat something. You’ve got a whole fridge at your disposal.”

“Can you... cook something for me?” Prussia asked hesitantly.

“Huh?!” Romano exclaimed, stunned. He turned his head around to stare in disbelief at the other man. “You want me to do what now?”

The former nation gave him a sheepish smile. “To cook me something, you know? Something Italian... I’m suddenly craving your food.”

“At this late hour?” the dark-haired brunette exclaimed, furrowing his brows.

“Yes!” Prussia exclaimed with determination.

Romano didn’t feel like cooking so late at night. His eyes were already growing tired, and all he wanted was to go back to sleep. But despite that, he couldn’t bring himself to refuse the Prussian’s request.

“I don’t know… can’t I cook for you in the morning or something?” the Southern nation hesitated, but then Prussia clasped his hands together and gave him a pleading look.

“Please?” he asked quietly.

Romano stared at the albino for a long moment before letting out a sigh of defeat. “Fine,” he said, crossing his arms. “But I’m making the simplest thing possible.”

At his words, the red-eyed man smiled happily. “Okay! That’s fine by me! I’m sure everything you make is amazing, no matter how simple!”

The Southern nation felt a bit flustered by Prussia’s praise, so he quickly headed to the kitchen to hide his embarrassment. He decided to make 'Pasta al pomodoro', basically pasta with tomato sauce, which from Romano’s professional culinary perspective, was by far the simplest dish to prepare. It took him about twenty minutes to cook, during which the German sat at the table watching him work with a soft, affectionate smile on his face. When Romano finally finished, he plated the pasta and set it in front of Prussia, who lit up like a child upon seeing it, then took a seat across from him.

“Wow! This looks awesome!” the former nation exclaimed, diving in immediately and stuffing as much pasta as he could into his mouth, looking thoroughly pleased. After swallowing, he said excitedly, “It tastes even better than it looks! How are you so good at this?”

At that, the Italian let out an amused huff. “Well, I’m Italian,” he said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Cooking comes naturally to me. Besides, this pasta I made for you is pretty simple. I’m sure anyone with a bit of kitchen experience could make it.”

“I probably couldn't.” Prussia joked.

“I said ‘at least a little kitchen experience,’” Romano clarified with a smirk, gesturing toward the albino. “I wasn’t talking about you. I’ve never seen you cook, but I’m pretty sure it’s a disaster when you do.”

At that, the Prussian gasped dramatically. “Hey, for your information, I can cook just fine! Well, at least German food. Italian though... eh, I’d rather not risk it. I’m pretty sure you’d bite my head off if I messed up one of your recipes.”

“Yeah, that’s a given,” the Southern nation agreed, resting his head in the palm of his hand. “Your brother actually tried to cook Italian food once when he came to visit mine in Italy a few years back,” he said, visibly cringing at the memory. “It was honestly the worst thing I’ve ever seen. I think he was going for some kind of roasted fish, but it didn’t look right, and I doubt it tasted right either. I didn’t try it, but Veneziano did, and he nearly threw up. After that, he banned your brother from ever attempting to cook Italian food again.”

Prussia let out a small laugh. “Man, you Italians really don’t mess around when it comes to your food, huh?”

“Nope.” Romano simply responded.

The German took a few more bites of pasta, then paused as a thoughtful look crossed his face. After swallowing, he glanced at Romano and said, “Hey, speaking of food… don’t you want to eat too? I mean, you made all this, and I feel kind of bad not sharing it with you.”

“I’m fine,” the Italian replied with a small shrug. “I’m too tired to eat, and if I ate now, it’d throw off my usual eating routine, and that would seriously annoy me.” As if to prove his point, he folded his arms on the table and rested his head on them, gazing at Prussia through his bangs with slightly drowsy eyes.

The former nation looked at him for a moment before a soft smile tugged at his lips. “Alright, whatever you say, older Italy.”

At his words, Romano felt a sudden warmth bloom in his chest. He loved it when Prussia called him that.

The two nations stayed like that for a while, with Prussia making small talk and Romano responding with half-mumbled answers. Eventually, their conversation faded into a comfortable silence. After some time—and once Prussia finished his food—Romano, exhausted from staying up so late, quietly fell asleep at the table.

The former nation found it incredibly endearing how Romano had dozed off in such an uncomfortable spot, so he decided to let him rest while he tidied the kitchen. He washed the dishes, wiped down the countertops to ensure they were spotless, then rearranged the ingredients Romano had used, placing them back in their proper cabinets. Once the kitchen looked clean again, he returned to the sleeping Italian.

Leaning down, Prussia placed a hand on Romano’s forearm and shook him gently.

“Hey, South, don’t you want to go sleep in your bed?” he asked softly. “If you stay like this, you’ll probably wake up with a terrible backache tomorrow.”

At his words, the Italian scrunched his face slightly and buried it in his arms. “Mm... no,” he replied in a muffled voice. “I’m fine...” he paused briefly before mumbling, “Buona notte.”

The white-haired man let out a fond sigh at Romano’s reaction. He truly wanted to let him sleep, but he knew the Southern nation would be unbearably cranky the next day if he slept like this. So, despite not wanting to disturb him, Prussia gently shook Romano again, this time a little firmer than before.

“Come on, I promise your bed is way more comfortable than this wooden plank. Besides, it’ll only take a moment. You’ll be back asleep before you know it.” the German said, trying to persuade him. But Romano just shook his head, turned away, and drifted back to sleep. Seeing that, Prussia moved to the brunette's other side and shook him again, this time enough to make his eyes flutter open.

The Italian groggily sat up and shot him a tired glare.

“Sorry, Roma, but you can’t sleep here,” the red-eyed man said with a small smile, gently grabbing Romano’s arm and helping him up. “Come on, let’s get you to your room.”

With that, Prussia guided the Italian up the stairs and down the hallway until they reached his room. As the albino reached to open the door, Romano sleepily leaned against him, catching the German off guard as he struggled to keep him upright.

“Jesus, how can you fall asleep standing up?” he asked, a mix of disbelief and amusement in his voice, before opening the door to Romano’s room and gently guiding him to the bed.

The Italian immediately collapsed onto his bed and, in less than a second, was fast asleep, as if he had never been awake at all.

Prussia let out a soft sigh, then crouched beside the other man, watching him with a fond smile.

“You're going to be the death of me, you know that?” he murmured softly, careful not to wake Romano. Though he doubted those words would make him stir. The guy could sleep through anything.

Slowly, Prussia reached out and gently brushed the Italian’s bangs away from his eyes, his fingertips grazing his warm skin. He held the touch for a few seconds before beginning to pull back, intending to leave Romano to sleep. But just before he could fully withdraw his hand, Romano stirred and lightly grabbed Prussia’s fingers, making the German’s heart skip a beat. Then, as if that wasn’t enough, the Southern nation pulled his hand closer and whispered so softly it was barely audible:

“Don't leave... stay...”

Those words made Prussia’s heart stutter in his chest, almost stealing his breath for a moment. He stared intently at the Italian for a second, then awkwardly murmured, “Uh... what?” But Romano didn’t respond, he simply relaxed back into sleep, holding the albino's hand close.

The former nation remained still for a moment longer before letting out a shaky breath. Romano had probably been sleep-talking. Yet even with that in mind, Prussia didn’t want to go against his words. He wanted to stay with him. Honestly, he would follow Romano to the ends of the earth if the Italian asked. He was completely smitten with him. Though, the German didn't care. He wouldn’t have it any other way.

With that thought, Prussia shifted into a more comfortable position on the floor and gently squeezed the Italian’s hand.

“Okay, South. I'll stay with you.”

He propped his free hand on the edge of the bed and rested his head there, red eyes fixed on Romano’s peaceful face. He watched the Italian for who knows how long, wearing the sappiest expression known to mankind, until sleep finally claimed him too.

Normally, when Prussia had nightmares at night, he couldn’t go back to sleep, because they would just repeat. But that night, the nightmares didn’t return. Instead, he dreamed of Romano and his warm hazel eyes.

Chapter Text

Sunlight streamed through the window, spilling across the bed where Romano lay fast asleep, hitting him squarely in the face. At first, it didn’t bother him—he was sleeping like a log, after all—but after a few minutes, the brightness began to sting at his eyes, and he stirred.

His hazel eyes fluttered open, only to snap shut again when the blazing sunlight blinded him.

Ouch.

For the past few days, he’d been sleeping in the Prussian’s room, where there were no windows and not a single ray of sunlight could sneak in. Being woken up like this was… irritating, to say the least. But that did raise the question: why exactly was he in his own room?

Romano rolled onto his back to escape at least some of the sunlight and found himself staring at the plain white ceiling above. A sight he hadn’t seen in quite some time. Slowly, the cogs in his mind began to turn, and fragments of last night’s events gradually came back to him: how he’d woken up to that terrible cold, the gut-wrenching talk with Prussia, cooking for the older German, and finally falling asleep at the table. After that, everything was a big hazy mess.

“Hmm...” the Italian let out a thoughtful hum, trying to force his brain to remember the missing pieces. But his train of thought screeched to a halt when he tried to pull his hand away, only to realize it was intertwined with… another hand. What the hell?

Romano slowly lifted his head to confirm his suspicions, and when he saw that his hand was indeed clasped with someone else’s, he was so startled he nearly fell out of bed. He jerked upright, yanking his hand to his chest, and let out a loud yelp.

His scream of horror seemed to rouse the other person, who quickly jolted upright from the floor. White hair stuck out in all directions, and red eyes blinked away sleep in surprise, eyes Romano instantly recognized as Prussia’s.

“Was? Ist alles in Ordnung? (What? Is everything okay?)” the white-haired man asked in a groggy voice, placing a hand to his head in confusion and wincing slightly at the touch.

Romano stared at the other man for a long moment, eyes wide, before letting out another yelp, this time actually toppling backward off the bed and landing on the floor on the other side.

“Ow! Damn it!” Romano screeched, propping himself up on his elbows before pushing himself into a sitting position. He placed his hands on the edge of the bed and peered over the rumpled blanket at the other man, who wore a briefly surprised expression. One that quickly shifted into amusement.

A small cackle escaped the albino as he mimicked Romano’s pose and pointed at him. “That was funny as hell,” he said with a grin. “Are you always this clumsy so early in the morning?” he added, tilting his head slightly.

At that, the Italian blinked and furrowed his brows. “No, I—” he started, then quickly shook his head. “You scared me, you idiot!” he snapped, a small scowl tugging at his face.

Climbing back onto the bed, he crawled to the other side until he was looking down at the white-haired man, who sat on the floor with a confused smile. “What are you even doing sitting on my floor at the crack of dawn? Are you trying to give me a heart attack?” he asked, poking Prussia in the shoulder.

“Eh? You mean to tell me you don’t remember?” Prussia asked, sounding a bit surprised as he pushed himself to his feet and stretched. A sharp crack from his bones made him wince and clutch one side in pain. “Damn, I’m gonna end up with a herniated disc if I keep sleeping in these non-sleepable places,” he joked, though the strain in his voice took most of the humor out of it. That made Romano’s hazel eyes flicker with concern as they shifted between the albino and his clutched side. “A carpet does not replace a mattress, I can tell you that.”

At the other’s words, Romano’s frown deepened. “What do you mean?”

“Ah, well...” Prussia said, suddenly straightening up and forgetting the pain in his side. “How do I put this, uh...” he stumbled over his words for a moment, leaving Romano even more confused. Then, suddenly stopping his ramble, he sat down beside the Italian on the bed and let out a small sigh.

“So, you kinda fell asleep at the table after you made me that awesome food,” he began, earning a small nod from the dark-haired brunette. “Right, but I couldn’t just let you sleep there since tables aren’t exactly comfortable, and you were leaned over it all awkwardly. So, I dragged you to your room, and you were so tired you basically fell asleep on your feet,” he chuckled softly, then his smile faded and his expression grew a bit nervous, which made Romano raise an eyebrow.

“Anyway, when I went to leave, uh... you kinda grabbed my hand and told me to stay,” he admitted, his cheeks tinged with the slightest shade of pink. “And I think you sleep-talked, but I didn’t want to go against your words, so I stayed,” he confessed, turning his head away awkwardly before clearing his throat. “And... slept on the floor, which was kinda uncomfortable, heh.”

Upon hearing the Prussian’s words, Romano felt his face flush. His mouth fell open in shock, and his heartbeat quickened to an abnormal pace. Suddenly, the hazy memories he hadn’t been able to make sense of just minutes ago became startlingly clear.

“I…” he started, sputtering before sucking in a sharp breath. “I did what?!” he blurted out in disbelief, his voice rising enough to make the other man flinch.

Prussia turned his head to glance at the Italian, then rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.

“Uh, did you not hear me, or…?” he asked with an embarrassed laugh. “Should I say all that again—”

“No!” the Southern nation exclaimed, flailing his hands in a dismissive gesture. “I—I heard what you said, it’s just that—” he bit his lip in agitation for a moment before slapping a hand over his face. “God damn it! Sono così stupido! (I’m so stupid!)” he hissed through gritted teeth.

Romano was embarrassed. No, beyond embarrassed. He felt as if he’d just been skinned alive and thrown into a pool of hungry sharks ready to tear him to pieces. Honestly, at that moment, he would have preferred that.

Augh.

He wanted to crawl under his bed and never come out! He couldn’t believe what he’d half-consciously said to the Prussian. What was wrong with him? How could he have blurted out something like that so casually? Sure, he’d been half-asleep at the time, which was a great excuse, but still!

And to make matters worse, Prussia had slept on the damn floor for hours while Romano had been cozy in his bed? God damn it, that made him feel awful! In fact, it bothered him even more than the realization that he’d practically laid his feelings bare for the former nation without even meaning to.

“Damn mouth…” Romano muttered to himself, fighting the urge to grab a pillow and scream into it. Instead, he dropped his hand and, still flustered, stared at Prussia, who simply looked back at him for a moment before offering that infuriatingly crooked smile of his. It made Romano’s heart race, which only deepened his blush. Desperate to save face, he scowled and began lightly punching the other man’s shoulder.

“Idiot!” Romano exclaimed, feigning anger.

“Ow, ow, ow—Roma, have mercy!” Prussia retorted, trying to shield himself from the Italian’s relentless attack, but failing. “What did I do?”

“You’re stupid, that’s what you did!” the Southern nation retorted, ready to keep “hitting” the German. But before he could punch him again, Prussia suddenly grabbed his hands, holding them down as he let out an out-of-breath laugh.

“I’m sorry for upsetting you,” the ex-nation said sincerely, wearing an apologetic expression. “But please stop punching the awesome me… my back already hurts like hell, I don’t want to end up with a dislocated shoulder too.” he smiled softly.

The Italian bit the inside of his cheek, then looked away guiltily. He stayed quiet for a moment before slowly slipping his hands from the albino’s grasp and crossing his arms over his chest.

“Mi dispiace, (I'm sorry,)” Romano mumbled before letting out a frustrated huff. “I can’t believe you actually listened to my half-asleep self and slept on the goddamn floor without a blanket or pillow or anything…!”

At his words, Prussia’s expression shifted to one of confusion. “Wait, that’s what you’re upset about?” he asked incredulously, his eyes widening slightly. “I thought you were upset because I, well, stayed here with you, um…”

“Why would I be upset about that?” Romano asked quickly, then seemed to realize what he’d said. He glanced away and coughed softly. “I’m not mad at you for… staying with me. I’m mad because you were stupid enough to stay on the floor,” he said quietly before adding, “Couldn’t you have gone to your room after a few minutes, or…” he blushed slightly. “…or at least gotten in bed with me? I know it’s small, but still… at least then you wouldn’t have a backache right now.”

Prussia’s eyebrows rose in surprise at his words, and for a moment his mind went blank as he blinked in awe at the Italian. He shook his head slightly, regaining his composure. With a gentle expression, he tilted his head and looked at Romano so softly that the dark-haired brunette felt those red eyes piercing straight into his soul. Then he said simply, “I could’ve, but… like I said before, I didn’t want to go against your words, and I also didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

The Southern nation swallowed dryly at the other man’s words, trying to ignore the warmth spreading in his chest. It was difficult, especially since Prussia cared so much for him, always putting him first and considering his feelings no matter the situation. Romano exhaled deeply, then slowly turned to glance back at the German, trying to hold back the smile on his lips but failing, and ending up smiling anyway.

“Since when do you listen to anyone?” he asked jokingly, expecting a similar response in return. But to his surprise, the Prussian’s gentle expression only softened further, making Romano’s heart leap out of his chest for a fleeting moment.

“I don’t, but… I do listen to you.” the white-haired man said quietly, and the Italian swore he forgot how to breathe for a second.

Romano opened his mouth to reply, but no words came out. Unsure of what to say, he clamped his mouth shut and stayed silent. Luckily, he didn’t have to break the silence, as the former nation began speaking again.

“Uh, anyway,” he said, changing the subject. “I didn’t get to say this to you yesterday... or better put, last night... since things were kind of hectic, but thanks for what you said…” he spoke slowly, smiling. “Really. Thanks a lot. It means more to me than you can imagine.”

At that, the Italian was a bit startled. He hadn’t expected any words of gratitude from the other man. He nodded slowly. “Ah, uh, you’re welcome…” he responded awkwardly. “It wasn’t a big deal… just returning the favor.” he smiled faintly at Prussia, whose red eyes looked at him with such sweetness that Romano had to avert his gaze elsewhere.

The two nations remained in comfortable silence for a long moment before Romano cleared his throat and broke it.

“What time is it?” the Italian suddenly asked.

“Oh, um,” Prussia said, blinking and looking around the room before pulling out his phone and showing it to Romano. “It’s eight in the morning.”

“So early?” South Italy exclaimed in wonder, earning a nod from the other man. “Damn, I could’ve slept some more…” he mumbled, waving a dismissive hand. “Whatever, what’s done is done. I’m awake now, so I’m going to make the most of this day!” he declared determinedly, earning an amused snort from the German. Then he made a shooing gesture toward him. “You shoo now. I wanna change, and you should too,” he said, getting to his feet.

Romano glanced at Prussia with a thoughtful look before ruffling his white hair, just like the German had done to him many times, earning a surprised look from Prussia that made Romano smile a little. “You should also brush this mane of yours,” he added with an amused huff. “You look like a wet mop.”

At that, Prussia ran his hands through his hair and looked up at the Italian with the silliest grin Romano had ever seen on him.

“You’re one to talk, South,” he said, rising to his feet and stepping closer to the hazel-eyed man. “Your hair isn’t exactly in top-notch condition either.” he added, gesturing toward Romano.

At his words, the Southern nation quickly smoothed down his bangs before crossing his arms. “Whatever. It’s better than yours, and that’s what matters.”

The Prussian let out a laugh before raising a hand to run it through Romano’s hair, pushing his bangs in the opposite direction so they stuck out awkwardly. Then he stepped back, muffling his laughter with his hand.

“Pfft, now you look like a wet mop!” Prussia said, laughing between words.

The dark-haired brunette was too stunned to speak. He blushed furiously and ran his hands through his hair, fixing it as best he could before marching over to the other man with furrowed brows and pushing him toward the door.

“That’s it! With that, you’ve just expired your time in my room!” Romano exclaimed. “Come on, out now!”

“Hey, no fair! I didn’t know there was a time limit!” the former nation protested, turning toward the Italian and holding his hands up in surrender. “If I apologize now, will I get my time back?” he asked with a lopsided grin, prompting Romano to roll his eyes dramatically.

“You wish,” the Italian said with an amused smile. “It’s too late now. No take backs.”

“Aww, come on, Roma,” Prussia pleaded, clasping his hands together in an exaggerated prayer that was clearly more for show than anything. “I never kicked you out of my room.”

“That’s because I wasn’t an idiot, unlike some person I know.” Romano retorted, looking the other man up and down.

“How cruel!” the ex-nation said, placing a hand over his heart in mock pain, earning a small nudge from Romano before he let out a soft laugh. “Okay, fine, I’m going. But try not to be too sad without the presence of the awesome me!”

Romano scoffed. “Whatever, just get a move on already.”

Prussia shot the Italian a pair of finger guns before turning to leave. But just as his hand touched the doorknob, a series of knocks sounded from the other side, freezing him in place. He blinked in confusion and glanced at Romano, who looked just as puzzled.

The Italian furrowed his brows for a moment, thinking, until his expression shifted into mild surprise. Why, you might ask? Because Romano knew there was only one person in this house with the decency to knock on his door and actually wait for an answer, instead of barging in and doing whatever they pleased. That was something Veneziano did all the time, but it didn’t really bother him. After all, he did the same to Veneziano, so it was fair. Prussia did it too, but Romano didn’t mind that from the former nation either. Why? Well… because he liked Prussia, and at this point, his careless or ridiculous antics didn’t annoy him anymore. In fact, they were kind of funny. Anyway, the point was...! Whoever had knocked on his door just now couldn’t be Veneziano or Prussia, especially since the ex-nation was literally standing in his room. Which left only one possibility: Germany.

As if to confirm his suspicions, a throat cleared on the other side of the door, followed by a voice... one that could only belong to Germany.

“Uh… Romano, are you awake?” the younger German asked, his voice strained. Both nations snapped their heads toward the doorknob, eyes wide. Prussia quickly released it and stepped back, uncertainty flickering across his face. Romano stayed frozen for a moment before glancing at the albino, then following his lead, taking a step back to stand beside him, wearing the same uncertain look.

A short silence followed from the other side, then a sigh. “Veneziano told me yesterday to return the shirt he borrowed from you this morning when I woke up.”

At that, the Southern nation’s mouth twisted into a small “Oh”. He’d completely forgotten Veneziano had borrowed a shirt from him. It happened so often that Romano barely registered it anymore. Honestly, Veneziano could have just given it back himself when he woke up. It wasn’t a big deal, and Veneziano knew that. But apparently, not enough, since he’d sent his boyfriend to do it for him… or maybe he was just too lazy to do it himself. Damn it, Veneziano!

Normally, this wouldn’t have been a problem since Romano didn’t despise Germany anymore. In fact, he actually tolerated him now, which was great. But it was a problem, because Prussia just so happened to be in his room at this very moment. Now… that complicated things. A lot.

There was no way he could open that door without Germany getting… ideas. Okay, sure, it’s not like the blonde didn’t already know Romano had been spending the past few days in Prussia’s room. Veneziano had said they’d been really obvious about it. And even if Germany hadn’t noticed (which Romano highly doubted), Veneziano probably told him anyway, because Veneziano told his lover everything. Still, even if Germany knew, it didn’t make it any less awkward to have him find the two of them together in Romano’s room like this.

Suddenly, the Italian was pulled from his thoughts by a light tap on his shoulder. Blinking, he turned, a little disoriented, toward the ex-nation beside him, who pointed at him, then at the door, miming an opening gesture. The Southern nation’s confusion vanished in an instant, and he quickly shook his head in response.

“Why—” Prussia started to ask, but Romano cut him off by slamming a hand over his mouth before he could finish.

“Shhh!” he whispered, silencing the former nation.

Prussia looked thoroughly puzzled, clearly wanting to ask questions, but he stayed silent at the Italian’s request.

Removing his hand from the albino’s mouth, Romano brought it to his own lips as if preparing to whisper a secret, which was kind of true... well, not the secret part, but the whispering, yes.

“Be quiet, so your brother thinks I’m asleep and leaves.” he whispered so softly that if Prussia hadn’t been so close, he wouldn’t have heard him.

The ex-nation’s confusion gradually faded, though he still looked a little puzzled, as if he didn’t entirely understand why Romano wanted this. Finally, he nodded slowly, mouthed a quiet “Okay.” and gave a thumbs-up.

At that, Romano relaxed and turned to stare at the door, hoping to hear footsteps fading away so he could finally, politely, kick Prussia out of his room, change into something else, and then go downstairs to make a good cup of coffee. Oh, how he was craving coffee right now… and biscotti. That was such a perfect combination. It was a shame, though, that his appetite usually got cut by Prussia and Germany, who liked eating all kinds of weird breakfast foods... like meat, and not the good kind, but ham full of additives, which he found gross. Though he supposed that was just his opinion (and his brother’s), due to cultural differences and all. Well, whatever. At least he’d get to enjoy a proper cup of coffee. He just needed to wait a few more minutes and—

But before any of that could happen, a loud thud came from his right. The sound startled him, snapping him out of his thoughts, and he quickly turned to see what had caused it. To his disbelief, Prussia stood by the desk in the corner of the room, wearing a guilty expression. His red eyes flicked down to the pen holder that had been on the desk just moments ago, now lying on the floor with pens scattered everywhere.

In short, Prussia had knocked that thing onto the ground... with a loud thud.

Romano wanted to facepalm himself.

Well, so much for pretending to be asleep so Germany would leave him alone.

As if on cue, the younger German spoke up again. “Uh... Romano?”

At that, the Southern nation had to stifle a groan. Damn it. He silently cursed his brother—this was all his fault for borrowing one of his shirts and not returning it himself, instead making his damn boyfriend do it for him. Then he turned and gave the former nation, who was picking up the pens from the floor and putting them back into the holder, a deadpan look. Prussia caught it and quietly whispered a small, apologetic “Sorry.”

Ok. New plan.

Inhaling deeply, Romano took a few steps back, then opened the drawers of his nightstand, pretending to look for something. After closing them, he exclaimed, “Yeah, I’m awake—just give me a second, I’m…” he trailed off, unsure what to say, before adding, “Looking for a… thing.”

A brief silence came from the other side of the door before a stiff “Okay” was heard. Romano let out a small sigh, then marched over to Prussia and gave him a light nudge.

“And you said I was the clumsy one…!” he hissed quietly, a small frown on his face, which earned him a sheepish look from the other man.

“Oops...” was all that the former nation said.

Romano rolled his eyes and glanced around the room before his gaze settled on the window. After a moment’s thought, he grabbed the older German and dragged him over to it. He opened the window and looked down to gauge how high up they were. It was a decent height, but not too bad. Then he turned back to the ex-nation.

“What are you—” Prussia began to ask, but Romano quickly cut him off by pointing outside.

“Do you think you can jump out the window?” the Italian asked, making the Prussian blink in confusion.

“Eh, what...?”

“You know, get down from here so I can open my door and grab that damn shirt without dying of embarrassment from your brother seeing… well, seeing us together… in my room… at this early hour.” South Italy explained, gesturing weakly with his hands as his face flushed slightly.

“Ah…” the former nation said, a hint of understanding in his voice, though he still looked thoroughly puzzled. “So… you want me to jump from the second story?” he asked slowly, earning a nod from Romano. “I see…” he glanced down from the window, narrowing his eyes for a moment before wincing slightly.

With a swift movement, the albino turned back to the Italian. “I think I'll sprain both my ankles if I actually go through with this.”

“Well… land in a bush or something!” the Southern nation suggested, though even he wasn’t convinced a bush would make much of a difference.

“We don’t have any bushes on this side of the house.” Prussia remarked, and Romano fell silent.

“I have a better idea,” the former nation said suddenly, catching the Italian’s attention. “How about…” he paused for a moment before adding, “I just use the door like a normal person?”

“No!” Romano exclaimed, shaking his head violently.

“Come on, South,” Prussia said. “It’s just West. He’s not one to meddle in other people’s business or ask questions,” he said matter-of-factly. “So, he won’t say anything.” he tried to reassure the Southern nation, but Romano didn’t look convinced.

“I don’t care! It doesn’t change how embarrassing this is!” Romano exclaimed, gesturing wildly with his hands.

At his words, the albino tilted his head slightly, raising an eyebrow with amusement. “How is this embarrassing, though?” he asked, causing the Italian to stop his frantic gestures and look at him with wide eyes. “We’re… friends, aren’t we? There’s nothing embarrassing about us hanging out, is there?”

South Italy blinked, then quickly averted his gaze to the side, his face flushing. “Well… no, but I didn't mean it in that way… I meant, um…” he stumbled over his words, struggling to explain himself clearly.

“You meant...?”

“Uhh…” Romano dragged out the word, his face growing even hotter before he waved his hands dismissively. “Nothing! It doesn’t matter!” he exclaimed, then grabbed the curtain and pulled it over the former nation’s head, momentarily blinding him.

Prussia barely kept his balance, holding himself upright as he yanked the curtain off his face, a flicker of discomfort crossing his features. His gaze shifted to the other nation, who had left his side and was now pacing the room thoughtfully before suddenly stopping and pointing at the albino with a determined expression.

“I know!” Romano exclaimed. “Hide somewhere!”

“Hide?” Prussia repeated in confusion, letting go of the curtain and stepping in front of the other man. “There’s nowhere to hide in here. This room’s as small as it gets.”

“Well…” Romano said awkwardly, gesturing toward the bed. “Under the bed?”

“I’m not doing that,” Prussia deadpanned before letting out a sigh. “Besides, I’m pretty sure West already heard us. We weren’t exactly quiet. Especially you, when you screamed a second ago.”

“I didn’t scream…!” Romano retorted, his voice rising, though it quickly faltered when he realized he was practically shouting. Okay, maybe he had forgotten to whisper… but could Germany have heard him? Um... who was he kidding? Probably. These walls weren’t exactly thick. “Damn it…” he muttered under his breath, shaking his head. “But still—” he began to argue, only for Prussia to wave a dismissive hand and turn on his heels.

“I’ll be fine, you’ll see!” the albino exclaimed, sending the Southern nation into panic.

“No! Wait, Prussia!” Romano hissed, rushing after the white-haired man, but he was too late. Prussia practically slammed the door open with a loud bang, and on the other side, Romano saw the younger German flinch ever so slightly before his normally stern features shifted to mild surprise.

“Sup, West?” the former nation called out, leaning forward to snatch the shirt from the blonde’s hands and toss it over his shoulder to Romano. The Italian barely caught it, muttering curses through gritted teeth as he glanced first at the shirt in his hands, then at Germany.

“Bruder…?” the Western nation said, his eyebrows knitting together in mild confusion. “What are you—” he began, but quickly stopped himself as his blue eyes flicked between Prussia and Romano, who looked like he was about to have a stroke.

The older German opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, Romano suddenly pressed a hand to his back and shoved him out the door, forcing Germany to step back to avoid toppling down with his older brother, who only just managed to regain his balance.

“Roma, how mean!” Prussia complained, turning to look back at the dark-haired brunette, but before he could, the door suddenly slammed shut in his face, the sound echoing down the hallway.

The former nation blinked, then turned to his younger brother with a small frown. “Now he’s all grumpy because of you,” he said, followed by a sigh. “Thanks a lot, West.”

“I—” Germany started, then shook his head slightly. “I’m sorry…” he apologized softly.

The Prussian straightened up and waved off the apology. “It’s fine. He’ll get over it,” he said, then turned around. “Anyway, I’m starving. Let’s go eat something!” he exclaimed as he walked down the hallway, whistling a cheerful tune.

Germany stared after his brother for a moment in stunned silence before snapping back to reality and marching after him.

“Bruder, wait!” the blonde called, hurrying after him, but Prussia was already charging ahead at an alarming speed. “Hey!” he barked as his brother all but vaulted down the stairs and into the living room.

“What?” the albino asked, finally stopping and turning around, his face a mix of puzzlement and slight annoyance.

Germany exhaled gruffly, then made his way down the stairs into the living room, where the former nation stood, and gave Prussia a tense look.

“What’s with that face?” Prussia asked, raising an eyebrow. “Are you mad at me or something?” he paused, then snapped his fingers in realization. “Ah, it’s that report, isn’t it? You’re probably pissed because I didn’t finish it! That’s it, right?”

The younger German opened his mouth to respond, but the former nation cut him off.

“Don’t worry, West! I’m almost done with it. Just got two more sections to review, so I’ll definitely finish it today!” he said proudly and reassuringly. But Germany’s tense expression didn’t soften. If anything, it grew even tighter, if that was possible, making Prussia frown in confusion. “Didn’t you hear me? Why do you still look so angry? Is something wrong? Are you feeling sick or something?”

At that, the blonde quickly shook his head. “No… it’s not that, I’m fine,” he said, then added, “It’s not the report either…”

“Then what’s wrong?” the red-eyed man asked, concern creeping into his voice. “You’re worrying me.”

Germany hesitated for a moment before letting out a deep sigh. “Look, I don’t like prying or crossing boundaries, but… please forgive me, I have to ask. Why exactly were you in Romano’s room just now?”

“Oh,” the former nation said, slightly surprised, then gave a small shrug. “We were just hanging out, you know?”

“Just… hanging out? Nothing else?” Germany pressed, causing Prussia to narrow his eyes slightly.

“Yeah… what else would we be doing?” he asked, genuinely confused.

The blonde gave him a strained look, as if unsure how—or even if—he should put his thoughts into words. After a moment of internal struggle, he finally said, “You two’ve been hanging out an awful lot lately…”

At his words, the former nation brightened. “Yeah, I know! We’re friends now, after all!”

“Right. Friends.” Germany muttered under his breath.

“Hey, what’s with that tone?” Prussia demanded, frowning again. He was about to say more, but before he could, Germany continued speaking.

“Do you know what day tomorrow is?” the blue-eyed man asked.

“Uh, ja, it’s Monday, right?” the albino said slowly, not understanding why his brother was suddenly asking that. It had nothing to do with what he’d just said. Honestly, this felt more like an interrogation than a conversation between brothers. What was up with Germany today?

“Yes, Monday,” the blonde said with a nod. Then he added, “Do you know what that means?”

“The start of a new week...?” Prussia replied, not really knowing what else to say, because what else could tomorrow being Monday mean, except that it was Monday and the start of a new week? What kind of question was that, anyway? Apparently, his answer wasn’t correct, because the younger German pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration.

“Gott, you're stupid.” Germany muttered, looking as if he were already done with Prussia, which, by the way, was the look Prussia himself should’ve been wearing, not Germany. After all, he was the confused one here, being spoken to in code and apparently expected to read his brother's mind. He wasn’t a telepath!

“Hey, what the fuck, West?” the former nation said, his voice now carrying a heavy hint of annoyance.

The blonde dropped his hand and gave the albino a pointed look. “You don’t complain when Romano calls you stupid.” he pointed out, causing Prussia’s annoyance to falter slightly, mostly because it was the last thing he’d expected to hear from his brother.

“Because he’s… Romano.” the white-haired man replied before he could even think, his mouth moving on its own, as if the words were the most obvious thing in the world. Even he was surprised by what he’d just said.

His answer seemed to ease some of the frustration on the other nation’s face, softening it into sympathy. Prussia found that a bit strange, but he chose not to dwell on it and simply added, “What does that have to do with anything, though?”

At his words, Germany exhaled tiredly and glanced away for a moment before looking back at the older man with a pitying expression. “So you really have forgotten…” he murmured, shaking his head slightly in what Prussia could only guess was disapproval. After all the beating around the bush, he finally got to the point. “Tomorrow morning, the Italy brothers are leaving,” he stated, his tone growing serious. He paused briefly, then added almost as an afterthought, his voice quiet, “Romano is leaving.”

At first, Prussia didn’t fully register what Germany had said. The words simply passed through his ears without truly landing. He stared at his brother with a blank expression, as if Germany were speaking in a language he couldn’t understand. Then, all at once, it hit him. His eyes widened, and his chest felt like it had been ripped apart.

“What...?” the former nation murmured in shock, his voice smaller than he intended.

Germany seemed to notice the sudden shift in Prussia’s mood, a flicker of compassion crossing his face, but it wasn’t enough to stop him from continuing his speech.

“The week is over... you know? They came here to get away, and tomorrow they have to return to Italy,” he explained slowly, watching as the albino's expression grew sadder with each word. “They’ve got work to do, especially now that they used their days off for this week instead of visiting during the universal holiday season.”

“Oh,” Prussia said softly, his expression hollow. “I… forgot.”

Prussia had completely forgotten that the two halves of Italy were supposed to leave tomorrow... that Romano was supposed to leave tomorrow. He’d been having such a good time with the older Italian that his mind had pushed away the fact that Romano wouldn’t be staying forever, that he had to return to his home country. But now, as the reality sank in, a sharp ache spread through his heart.

He didn’t want Romano to go. Prussia wanted him to stay. He wanted to keep spending time with the dark-haired brunette, to keep having those late-night talks, to keep joking around. He wanted… he…

Suddenly, his younger brother’s voice pulled the former nation out of his thoughts.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to ruin your good mood,” Germany apologized, his expression filled with regret. “I wish they could stay longer too, but they have to put their country and people first, just like we have to.”

Prussia kept his gaze fixed on his younger brother for a long moment before giving a slow, faint nod. “I know...” he whispered, understanding his brother’s words all too well, yet wishing he didn’t. He wanted to argue, to shout, but he held back. After all, Germany was right... and what could he possibly say against what was just?

“Bruder...” the blonde said, worry lacing his voice as he took in just how wounded the former nation looked. He hesitated for a moment before raising a hand to rest on the older man’s shoulder in a comforting gesture. “As I’ve said before, I don’t like interfering in your private life, because I want to respect your privacy, but… I have to give you some advice before it’s too late,” he added, his tone growing more serious. “If there’s something you want to say to Romano, I think you should tell him today.”

At that, Prussia’s gloom seemed to lift just slightly, and he gave the younger man a faint, puzzled look.

“What… what are you talking about?” the red-eyed man asked. “Tell him what, exactly?”

At his words, Germany smiled faintly before pulling away. “You know better than I do.” he said, then turned and walked toward the kitchen, leaving a stunned Prussia alone in the living room.

The albino racked his brain over what his brother had meant, and at first, he couldn’t make sense of it. Then, a sudden thought crossed his mind, and he perked up slightly.

Wait...

Could his kid brother be referring to...?

He swallowed hard, suddenly feeling his hands grow clammy and his face flush.

Oh… God. His damn kid brother had figured him out...! He was too observant for his own good. But... Germany was kind of right.

Prussia had been carrying these feelings for a long time. At first, they were small and manageable, no problem at all. But now they’d grown too big, too impossible to keep inside. They kept slipping out in little ways, and if he kept pushing them down, trying to cover them up, it was only a matter of time before they exploded. And he knew that outcome wouldn’t be good. Not for him. Not for Romano.

God, Romano.

He liked him so damn much it hurt. He liked his silly frowns when he pretended to be angry. He liked his soft hair, his sharp remarks, his competitiveness, his incredible cooking. He liked his eyes. God, his eyes were so damn pretty. He liked everything about Romano.

And, honestly… he really wanted to tell him that.

But that was the hard part. Did he just blurt it out? Was that really the right thing to do? Romano was better now, but didn’t people need more time to adjust after going through something difficult? That’s what Prussia had been telling himself these past few days. And while it was true, at this point it was less about giving Romano time and more about the fact that he was scared to say anything (Not that he didn’t care about Romano’s adjustment! He did! But fear was definitely the bigger part of the picture.)

Now, it probably sounded strange that the great and awesome Prussia was scared to spill his feelings. Great and awesome people weren’t afraid of anything, right? Buuut the thing was… and this was kind of an un-awesome thing… when it came to the lovey-dovey stuff, Prussia wasn’t the best. That had always been his brother’s strength… somehow… not his.

The former nation had always sucked at love. Despite everything else he was good at, love was the one battle he always lost. And this time… this time he didn’t want to lose. This time, he wanted nothing more than to win.

But how? How could he win?

Hmm...

He could leave things as they were and risk blurting out his feelings in a worse circumstance later, or he could take the risk now and finally tell the Southern nation everything trapped in his heart. The first option was safe, at least for a little while, but the second… the second was terrifying, yet thrilling. If it worked out, that is. And “working out” meant Romano felt the same way he did… wow. That was something he hadn’t really thought through before, but the idea was awesome. If Romano did feel the same, then the two of them could…

Damn, just the thought made his heart race like it was on the verge of collapsing.

So, Prussia knew how Romano felt about him, but not in the way you might think. He just knew that the older Italian didn’t hate him anymore, as Romano had said so himself, which obviously meant he actually liked him. Because not hating someone meant liking them! Hah! But in what way… that was the mystery. The mystery that gnawed at his heart… and his brain, because he kept overthinking every word, every touch, every smile from Romano, wondering if it could mean everything or nothing at all.

Okay, maybe that was a bit of an exaggeration... the awesome Prussia had a habit of exaggerating. Usually, that wasn’t a problem, but in this kind of situation, it was. Because Romano’s actions had to mean something, whether it was friendship or something more… and Prussia really, really wanted it to be something more.

Though, how was he supposed to know if Romano reciprocated his feelings or not?

Prussia thought back on all the moments he and the Italian had shared since they’d gotten closer, because before that… well, things hadn’t exactly been pretty between them. But that didn’t matter now. Only the good moments counted. Like yesterday, when Romano had stopped by his room and discovered he wore glasses... okay, maybe that one was a little more embarrassing than “good”, but it still counted. Or the day before, when they’d watched the sunset together. That had been awesome. Or when they’d gone to the fair, just the two of them. Even tonight, when Romano had found him mid–existential crisis and said the sweetest thing Prussia had heard in a long time... sweet enough to actually make him cry.

If he hadn’t already known for ages that he liked Romano (which he had, of course, but for the sake of the expression, let’s pretend otherwise), then that moment would have sealed the deal. Plenty of people had reassured him before that he wouldn’t just… disappear, but no one had done it the way Romano had. Thanks to him, Prussia was pretty sure it would be a long time before he worried about it again.

Ah, just thinking about all of it made Prussia want to find the older Italian, pull him into a bone-crushing hug, and never let go. But that wasn’t something he could do for no reason, unless, of course, Romano happened to return his feelings, which... If those moments were anything to go by… if they were signs… then maybe, just maybe, he stood a chance.

All at once, the former nation’s sadness faded, replaced by a bubbling mix of determination and nervous excitement. He had to tell Romano how he felt! Who knew when he’d get another chance? It wasn’t like they could just drop everything and fly to each other’s countries whenever they wanted. That meant it had to be today. When exactly, he wasn’t sure. He’d just have to wait for the perfect moment… and hope for the best.

All of this terrified Prussia to his core, but it also fueled him like nothing else. It felt like going into battle armored and ready, yet fully aware he could still get stabbed. Ah… how thrilling!

With that thought in mind, the albino marched into the kitchen, feeling better than ever and silently thanking his brother for his words.

Yes.

He was going to do this, and it was going to be awesome!

...

Hopefully!

.
.
.

Upstairs, Romano had finally calmed down from the embarrassing high he’d been on. After changing into a fresh set of clothes, he decided to grace the world with his presence, or, in other words, actually leave his room. He creaked the door open, stepped into the hallway, and closed it quietly behind him. As he walked, his mind drifted back to coffee. He was craving it so badly today and couldn’t wait to brew a cup and chug it down. Hopefully, there were still good coffee beans left... he and Veneziano had practically been using them up every day.

The dark-haired brunette let out a small hum, narrowing his eyes in thought. His train of thought was cut short, however, when he noticed the door to Germany’s room, the one Veneziano was sharing with him, standing open.

He couldn’t help but wonder if his brother was still asleep. He probably was, but just to be sure, Romano wanted to check. Hopefully, Germany wasn’t in there. That would be really awkward.

Romano slowly stepped into the room, immediately noticing how dark it was. His eyes took a moment to adjust before he spotted the source of the darkness: the blinds. They were pulled shut, blocking out every trace of daylight, which was definitely Veneziano’s doing, since the younger Italian liked sleeping in complete darkness, like a hibernating bear.

The Southern nation blinked then looked around the room slowly. Luckily, there was no sign of Germany. Thank God.

Relaxing a little, he stepped further inside. His brother was sprawled across the bed in what could only be described as a disastrous sleeping position, one arm bent at an unnatural angle, a leg dangling off the edge, and the blanket barely covering him, mostly lying on the floor. He didn’t look comfortable at all, but knowing Veneziano, he probably was.

Romano smiled faintly at the sight and stepped closer to the bed, intending to pull the blanket over Veneziano and then let him sleep. But in the dim light, he didn’t notice the open suitcase by the bed. He tripped over it and toppled onto his brother like a log, making Veneziano startle awake, gasping in shock and possibly in pain.

“OW!” Veneziano exclaimed, his voice strained under the extra weight. He tried to shift but found he couldn’t move, which made him panic. In his haze and flustered state, he didn’t realize that the person clumsily trying to lift themselves off him was his brother.

“Germany, help! There’s a random person on me!” the Northern nation shouted at the top of his lungs. “I think we’re being robbed, or worse, attacked—” but before he could finish, a sharp smack to the head cut him off. He winced, bringing a hand to rub the spot in pain.

“It’s just me, you dumbass…!” Romano hissed, mentally cursing his own clumsiness for scaring his poor brother. “Stop screaming such nonsense…!” he pushed himself to his feet and kicked the suitcase away from the bed with a frown, making sure it wouldn’t cause him any more trouble.

At his words, North Italy dropped his hand from his head, straightened up, and rubbed his eyes. “Fratello?” he asked, sounding almost surprised. “Why did you attack me so early in the morning?”

“I didn’t attack you!” Romano shot back after shoving the suitcase aside, turning to glare at his brother for accusing him of such a terrible act. “I just tripped and fell on you because of your stupid suitcase. Seriously, why did you even put it next to the bed?” he lowered his voice, looking away with a faint pout. “I actually wanted to pull the blanket over you since you’d pushed it away… and then let you sleep.”

At his confession, the younger Italian brightened. “Fratello, that’s so nice of you! Aww, I feel so bad for ruining that!” he exclaimed. Then, an idea seemed to strike him. He quickly lay back down and tossed the blanket off. “Here, you can still do it! I’ll pretend I’m asleep!” Veneziano shut his eyes tightly and feigned sleep, making Romano let out an amused huff.

“It’s not the same now, idiot.” the Southern nation said, shaking his head in slight disbelief.

“No?” Veneziano cracked one amber eye open, then sat up again, puffing out his cheeks in disappointment. “How sad.”

Romano let out a small sigh. “Sorry for waking you up, I didn’t mean to. I’ll go now. You can go back to sleep.” but as he turned to leave, his brother’s voice suddenly reverberated through the room.

“Wait, no! Don’t go!” the younger Italian exclaimed, springing to his feet in a burst of energy. Romano turned and blinked at him in surprise. “I’m totally not sleepy anymore, so there’s no point in going back to bed!” he explained, then sprinted to the window, throwing open the blinds and letting the bright morning light flood the room. He squinted against it. “Ow, that’s bright,” he murmured, making his way back to Romano. “When did you wake up??”

“Not too long ago, actually.” the Southern nation replied, earning a grin from Veneziano.

“I’m glad you took my advice and started waking up earlier instead of sleeping in until lunch, haha!” the light-haired brunette exclaimed cheerfully. Just as happily, he added, “Did you have any good dreams tonight?”

At that, Romano gave a small shrug. “I don’t really remember…”

“Eh? No way! I remember, so let me tell you what I dreamed about—” Veneziano began, then suddenly stopped. He frowned, lost in thought, before letting out an amused laugh. “Actually… I forgot too. What a coincidence!” he ran a hand through his hair. “It’s so weird! I always remember my dreams when I first wake up, but if I don’t focus on them and get distracted, I totally forget. Does that happen to you too, fratello?”

At his words, South Italy blinked and shrugged again. “Honestly, I don’t know.”

“Ah, so it’s just me then.” the Northern nation said with a smile. He turned and sank down next to his neatly packed suitcase, carefully selecting some fresh clothes without wrinkling the others, then stood up again.

Romano now noticed that Veneziano’s clothes were no longer in the closet or dresser and were all packed in his suitcase, which made him raise an eyebrow.

“Why did you pack your suitcase?” he asked.

“Huh? What do you mean, ‘why’?” the brown-eyed man asked, confused. “We’re leaving tomorrow morning.”

Upon hearing his brother’s words, the Southern nation’s eyes went wide. “We’re leaving tomorrow?!” he exclaimed in shock. “Wait, what day is it today?” he started searching for his phone in his pocket, then realized he had left it in his room. Damn it. Luckily, Veneziano answered for him.

“It’s Sunday, silly,” the light-haired brunette said, amused. “You really lost track of time, didn’t you? Don’t worry, this happens to me too when I’m on vacation! I would’ve forgotten as well, but Germany reminded me. He’s thoughtful like that.”

Romano stared at his brother for a long moment before finally forcing out the words. “I… totally forgot that we’re supposed to leave tomorrow…” he admitted quietly, swallowing hard and looking down at the floor, unable to meet Veneziano’s eyes.

They were leaving tomorrow… He couldn’t believe it had completely slipped his mind. How could he have forgotten?

The Southern nation's legs suddenly felt unsteady, and his head spun, so he quickly made his way to the bed Veneziano shared with Germany and sat on its edge, crossing his arms as if to comfort himself.

The younger Italian quickly noticed Romano’s sudden change in mood, his features twisting with worry. He dropped the clothes he was holding onto the floor and went to sit next to his brother.

“Fratello, what’s wrong?” the light-haired brunette asked, gently placing a hand on his older brother’s shoulder.

South Italy opened his mouth, but no words came out. A heavy, sickly feeling settled in his chest, one he knew all too well… sadness. He took a deep breath, clenching his hands into fists before letting them fall into his lap, and slowly turned to glance at his sibling with a torn expression. For once, despite how badly he usually struggled to express his emotions, he felt like he knew exactly what to say, and how to say it.

“Fratello…” Romano began, pausing tensely before continuing. “I… I don’t want to leave.” he admitted quietly.

If you had told the Romano of the past that he’d want to stay in Germany, he would’ve called you crazy and cursed you out. It was wild how much had changed in just a week. The Romano of today was nothing like the one from before. Back then, all he’d wanted was to go home, even chanting it over and over in his head. Now, all he wanted was to stay.

Veneziano blinked, his eyes widening in surprise before quickly softening. “I don’t want to leave either.” the younger man confessed, offering a sad smile.

A brief silence fell between them before Veneziano spoke again.

“But... I thought you hated Germany. I mean, the country. What changed?”

At that, Romano turned his head away, staring at the hands in his lap. He tapped his fingers together anxiously before letting the words tumble out. “Prussia… he’s what changed.” he confessed quietly, furrowing his brows as he kept his gaze fixed on his hands, now clenched tightly in the fabric of his pants.

The Southern nation could feel his brother’s shocked gaze practically burning a hole through him. He didn’t need to look up to know it. Honestly, he was a little shocked at what he had just said himself, but he didn’t want to take it back or deny it. No. Because it was the Truth. Prussia had changed not only how Romano saw himself, but how he saw life itself.

In a matter of seconds, the older Italian let go of the material of his pants then quickly brought his hands to his face and covered it, making his sibling jump in place at the sudden gesture.

“Dio, Veneziano,” Romano said in a strained voice, his words muffled by his palms. “You were so right… I do like Prussia!” he confessed the truth he’d realized more and more with each passing moment spent in the former nation’s presence, and the truth he still hadn’t told his brother, until now. “I don’t want to leave tomorrow, because I don’t want to leave Prussia!” he admitted, pressing his hands harder into his face. “I feel like I haven’t had enough time with him… damn it,” he hissed under his breath, dragging his hands down his face before clutching at his shirt. “What is this stupid feeling? It’s like I’ve been stabbed in the chest…” he said, turning to Veneziano with a locked jaw.

His brother, still wearing a surprised expression, gently shook his head, his face softening into one of sympathy. “I think that’s called heartache, fratello.” he responded quietly.

“Heartache…?” Romano repeated in confusion, pressing his lips into a tight line for a moment before exhaling loudly. “I hate it… how do I make it stop?”

At that, Veneziano let out a sad sigh and pulled the older man into a hug. “You don’t… you just wait for it to pass,” he said softly, stroking Romano’s hair as if he were a worried parent comforting their child. He stayed quiet for a few moments, simply offering comfort to the Southern nation, before admitting, “I feel the same way when I have to part with Germany.”

The older Italian slowly returned the hug before asking, “And how do you manage?”

“Truthfully… I don’t manage,” the Northern nation replied, his tone sincere. “I miss him every single day we’re apart, but all that longing is worth it when I get to see him again.” he added with a small smile.

Huh.

For the first time, Romano truly understood his brother. He had always wanted to separate Veneziano from Germany, because he used to hate the blonde and wanted his brother to have nothing to do with him. But he had never realized how much that would hurt Veneziano. Now, feeling the pain his brother experienced every time he had to say goodbye to the younger German, Romano regretted ever trying to break them apart.

Romano stayed in his brother’s arms a while longer before slowly pulling away. He felt a little better now. Not as good as he would have liked, but better nonetheless. His brother had always been a good comforter.

“I’m so happy you finally admitted to liking Germany’s older brother,” Veneziano said suddenly, pulling the older man out of his thoughts. “I knew you liked him, but with how reserved you were acting, I thought you’d never actually admit it, and would just keep it to yourself, like you usually do when you don’t know how to handle a situation.”

“Hey! That’s not true—” the Southern nation began, pausing for a moment to think before correcting himself. “Okay, maybe it’s a little true… but I have my reasons for that!” he exclaimed, nodding to emphasize his point. “Though… I have to admit, I also feel a bit happy saying that out loud,” he confessed slowly. “It’s one thing to say it in my head and another to actually voice it… honestly, I feel much lighter now. Does that make sense?”

“Mhm!” North Italy said with a nod, a happy grin spreading across his face, before a thought seemed to cross his mind. “Are you going to tell Prussia, though?”

“Tell him…?” Romano asked in confusion, raising an eyebrow.

“Sì! Tell him that you like him!” Veneziano exclaimed.

At that, the older Italian’s face turned deep red, and he quickly looked away. “I… that’s just, um…” he stammered, his words coming out all wrong and jumbled. Something that, of course, didn’t go unnoticed by Veneziano, whose grin softened into a small smile.

“I’m not forcing you or saying that you have to tell Prussia how you feel, but I just want you to know that your heart will probably feel less heavy when we leave tomorrow if you do,” the Northern nation said softly, causing Romano to look at him with wide eyes. “I think something good could come of it… because I’m pretty sure Prussia likes you too… a lot.”

Upon hearing that, the older Italian choked on the breath he had taken, hitting his chest and coughing to steady himself. Once he could breathe properly again, he looked at his sibling, a shocked expression etched across his face. Seeing this, Veneziano simply tilted his head to the side in disbelief.

“Oh, come on, fratello! Don’t tell me you don’t think it’s true!” the Northern nation said, gesturing toward Romano. “I’ve told you before, but I’ll say it again, since it seems you haven’t really taken my words to heart,” he added with a sigh, straightening up, a determined look on his face.

“I think—no, I know—that Prussia has some really strong feelings for you. Maybe even stronger than the ones you have for him, if I’m being honest. He has these… certain… how do I put it… hmm,” the light-haired brunette murmured, scrunching his face in thought before suddenly lighting up. “Traits! Sì!” he said, nodding enthusiastically. “Prussia has these traits that I’ve only ever seen when he’s around you!”

“For instance,” Veneziano continued, clasping his hands together, “when he talks to you, he’s so much more soft-spoken than he is with me, Germany, or anyone else. And he has this incredibly smitten look on his face, like, only when he looks at you. His eyes practically have hearts in them!” he let out a small laugh before returning to the point. “He’s also incredibly considerate of you. Honestly, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him be so considerate toward anyone… you’re a good influence on him,” he said softly, dropping his hands and giving a slightly sheepish smile. “Honestly, I could go on for a while... the list is long, but I don’t want to talk your ears off. Still, I hope this… what I said now, opened your eyes, even if just a little.”

Romano stared at the younger man for a long moment, blinking slowly. His gaze drifted down to the white mattress, his brows furrowing slightly, before he looked back at his brother. His expression shifted from a small conflicted look to one of sudden realization. He inhaled deeply, then exhaled, parting his lips as if to speak, preparing himself to voice what was on his mind.

But then his eyes wandered to the side, and froze. The door to the room was wide open. Had it always been open? Ah, damn, he’d forgotten to close it when he came in. Stupid!

Quickly, Romano got up and shut the door, then returned to his brother, sitting back down in his original spot. He didn’t want the others overhearing this conversation… that would be unbearably embarrassing. He could only hope no one had already heard.

Shaking his head to rid himself of the thought, the Southern nation finally began to speak.

“So…” Romano began, pausing briefly before continuing. “I realized some time ago that Prussia likes me, but not in the way you think… I just thought it was, well, friendly,” he spoke slowly, as if weighing each word. “But after our conversation yesterday morning, when you kind of made me realize that I do like… Prussia, and you told me that you think I mean… um, something more to him… well, that made me think. I started paying more attention to how Prussia acts around me…”

He frowned, feeling like he wasn’t quite making sense, then added quickly, “So, just so you know, I did take your words to heart. I didn’t brush them off—I just… didn’t say anything.” he shook his head in a dismissive gesture.

“Anyway, as I was saying, I started noticing how Prussia behaves around me, and I… well, I started having some suspicions. I’m not dense, and I’ve had plenty of lovers before, but the thing is, Prussia is so… how do I say this… hard to read,” he admitted with a blank expression. “At least when it comes to… this liking thing. Are all Germans like this?”

At that, North Italy smiled and let out a small laugh. “I think so, yeah,” he said. “Germany was exactly the same before we got together! It was hard to make sense of his actions or tell if he liked me. But in the end, I figured it out, and everything turned out great!”

Upon hearing that, Romano let out a small, amused huff. “If you call dating that dense loser 'great', then I don’t want to know what you think isn’t great.”

“Hey!” Veneziano exclaimed, frowning. “Germany is an amazing boyfriend, and he isn’t dense! He’s just… not great when it comes to feelings, but that’s okay! Nobody’s perfect!” he pointed at Romano with mock accusation. “And you’re one to talk! You want to date a ‘dense loser,’ too! You even said yourself that Prussia is hard to read when it comes to the liking department!”

At his words, the older Italian flushed red and shoved his brother backward, earning a small yelp from him. “Shut up! First of all, I never said anything about wanting to date! And secondly, Prussia isn’t dense or a loser, he’s actually really cool!” he exclaimed, crossing his arms.

The light-haired brunette quickly got back up, and instead of looking upset or hurt from being pushed, he seemed ecstatic, his smile somehow even wider than before.

“Oh, you like Germany’s older brother way more than I realized!” he said with a snicker, earning a light smack on the shoulder from Romano.

“Veneziano!” the dark-haired brunette hissed, his face growing hotter from his brother’s unnecessary words.

The Northern nation let out another amused laugh then swatted Romano’s hands away, scooted a little closer, and poked him in the arm.

“But, fratello,” he said cheerfully, “you do want to date Prussia, don’t you?”

At that, the hazel-eyed man shot the younger Italian a sharp, flustered glare, but it quickly softened into a small, gentle look. “Well…” he said quietly, pausing briefly before shrugging. “I’m not opposed to the idea,” he admitted, quickly waving a dismissive hand. “But… it’s whatever. That’s not what we were talking about!” he ran a hand through his hair to regain his composure.

“As I was saying before you completely derailed the topic, Prussia is kind of hard to read,” he continued, his tone growing more serious, which prompted Veneziano to adopt a similarly serious expression. “What I mean is… he does one thing that makes me think he might have feelings for me, but then he does something else that completely ruins that idea!” he explained, frowning. “For instance, yesterday, when he and I separated from you two—”

“When you went on that date?” Veneziano chimed in.

“No!” Romano exclaimed quickly. “That wasn’t a date! It was just… a hangout between two friends…” he said, though even he didn’t seem sure of his words, before shaking his head to clear his mind. “Ugh, what’s with you and the word 'date' today?” the older Italian asked in disbelief.

“Anyway,” he continued, taking a deep breath. “when we separated from you two and went somewhere... I don’t even know the name of the place, but it was nice, well… Prussia, he…” he hesitated, clearing his throat. “I mean, there was this… moment between us, uh…”

Romano noticed his brother leaning in, clearly invested in his words, which made him cringe, but he pressed on. “It felt like we were about to kiss, but then Prussia just pulled away and brushed it off like it was nothing…” he said, feeling the same sense of disappointment settle in his chest that he had felt back then. “I didn’t know what that was supposed to mean, and I brushed it off too, because what else could I do? But then, when we got home, he did these other sweet gestures, and even this morning he said things… and—God! It’s all messing with my head!” Romano slammed a hand against his forehead in frustration. “What am I even supposed to make of that?”

The other Italian stayed quiet for a moment, processing Romano’s words, before bringing a hand to his face in a thoughtful gesture.

“Fratello… if I’m being honest, it sounds to me like Germany’s older brother is just afraid of rejection... or maybe afraid of losing the friendship he’s built with you,” he said sincerely, then added with a small smile, “Considering you’re not exactly easy to befriend, especially when it’s someone you initially… well, kinda hated.”

Upon hearing Veneziano’s words, Romano shot him a small, unimpressed look before adopting a more contemplative expression himself. “But… why would he be scared?” he asked, disbelief in his voice. “Isn’t it obvious that I like him back? I mean, I’ve been acting really fucking stupid around him…” he said, already feeling embarrassed as he remembered all the times he’d stumbled over his words or blushed like a lovesick idiot in the former nation’s presence.

“Well, to me, it’s obvious, because I’ve known you forever,” Veneziano said. “But to Prussia? Not so much. Usually, when someone likes another person, they don’t really believe the feeling is returned. I don’t know why, maybe it’s just how people, or nations, are, but it’s true. So they worry about getting rejected and don’t want to risk what they already have, just to keep the person they care about close. If they do get rejected… they might never get to see that person again.” he let out a soft sigh. “So yeah, I don’t think he really knows. And even if he does… he’s probably uncertain.”

“Oh,” Romano said, not quite expecting such a long explanation, but he found he couldn’t really disagree. “That makes sense… but still… wouldn’t he take the risk? You know, risks are kinda his thing.”

Veneziano’s expression softened, his tone quieter and a bit more sympathetic. “Yes, Prussia is known for being the risky type, but I don’t think that applies to relationships. I actually think he’s not so daring when it comes to that.” he paused, giving a small nod to emphasize his point. “Over the past few years, when I’ve visited Germany, I’ve never seen Prussia with a lover. He once mentioned liking someone, but he never said who, even when I asked. And he seemed… kind of gloomy about it. I advised him to try and open up a bit, since I think that’s the best thing to do in that kind of situation, but he didn’t really like my idea and just shrugged it off, doing nothing about it. So yeah… I don’t think he’s the best when it comes to the love department.” his expression grew a little sadder. “Back then, he seemed really lonely, and I felt bad for him… but that can all change now. You like him, he likes you… and now you two can actually start dating!”

At that, Romano blushed, covering his face with his hands and muttering Italian curses under his breath.

Veneziano! Why did he have to say things that he knew would fluster Romano so much? Ugh… he’d have to get revenge on him for this one day.

After a moment, the Southern nation dragged his hands down his face and straightened up.

“Okay, I’m going to listen to you and entertain the idea that he likes me… that way,” the older Italian began slowly, crossing his arms. “But there’s still one problem. How is this supposed to play out? Should I say something, or wait for him to say something? I mean, we don’t have much time… we’re leaving for Italy tomorrow, so today’s my only chance if I want anything to happen…”

Upon hearing his words, the light-haired brunette grew thoughtful. “Hmm,” he hummed, narrowing his eyes slightly. “I think you should be the one to tell him,” he finally said. “You’ve got the upper hand here because you know he likes you back, which trust me, he does, so you have nothing to fear. There’s no way Prussia’s going to reject you,” he explained, gesturing slightly with his hands.

“Prussia, on the other hand, doesn’t know if you like him back, so don’t make him be the one to break the ice. It takes a lot of courage to pour your heart out to someone, especially when you’re unsure of their feelings. And even if you’re not going to reject him, still, be kind. Don’t let him stress over this,” he advised quietly before perking up.

“That’s what I did with Germany! I was the one to tell him how I felt first!” Veneziano said proudly, smiling fondly at the memory before looking at Romano with soft eyes. “However, if you really don’t want to be the one to break the ice, then at least give him signs... maybe hold his hand, stay closer to him, or something like that.”

At that, Romano gave a small nod and a faint smile. “Okay, I’ll think about what you said,” he murmured before pulling his brother into a hug. “Grazie… for having this conversation with me.”

“Nessun problema! (No problem!)” Veneziano exclaimed, hugging him back warmly. “That’s what brothers are for!”

Romano really appreciated his brother. Somehow, despite how much of an airhead Veneziano could be at times, he was surprisingly wise about life. He always knew what to say to ease Romano’s mind and what advice to give, especially when it came to relationships. Romano supposed that probably came from the fact that Veneziano was in what was likely the most stable relationship in the world, while he himself had a history of... not so stable ones. But maybe that didn’t have to be his thing anymore… maybe he, too, could have something like his brother had… Oh, how he’d love that.

They stayed like that for a while before finally pulling apart, both wearing contented smiles.

“Oh, I’m so happy for you, fratello!” Veneziano exclaimed, practically squealing with excitement.

“Why’s that?” Romano asked, raising an eyebrow. “It’s not like this is the first relationship I’ve pursued,” he added with a hint of amusement. “Honestly, I think I’ve been in more relationships than you.”

“Yeah, but I think this is the first time I’ve ever seen you actually like someone so much!” the younger Italian said.

“Well…” Romano dragged out the word, wanting to argue but unable to, because deep down he knew his brother was right. “I’ve liked plenty of people before, though…” he finally settled on saying.

“But never this much!” the Northern nation emphasized. “I don’t want to put words in your mouth, since I know you hate that, but… it’s almost like you’re… in love with Prussia!”

At that, the older Italian's eyes widened, and a warm, dizzying sensation spread through his chest. He pressed a hand against his heart, which felt like it was about to leap out of his body, and stared at Veneziano in stunned silence.

“Love…” he murmured, his voice barely more than a whisper.

It was such a powerful word. One he rarely used to describe his feelings, and one he was certain he hadn’t said in a long time. Yet somehow, it fit perfectly with how he felt about the former nation.

Love could be defined in many ways, but people often reduced it to mere infatuation or attachment. Romano liked to disagree with those people. To him, love wasn’t just about wanting someone... it was about mutual respect, support, emotional connection, and trust. Affection mattered too, of course, but it was secondary.

And the kind of love Romano believed in… could he really say this? He and Prussia seemed to share it. Wow, he had really said that! At first, their relationship had been rocky, but now they had mutual respect, they supported one another, perhaps Prussia more than Romano had supported him, but it still counted. They communicated well and trusted each other. So...

South Italy opened his mouth to speak, but before he could say anything, the door creaked open. The sudden sound made him jump and whip his head around, only to see Germany standing in the doorway, looking just as surprised.

Veneziano leaned forward slightly, glanced at his lover, and then enthusiastically waved at him. “Morning, Germany!”

The blonde blinked, then gave a small nod. “Morning,” he said simply, pausing for a moment as his expression tightened. His blue eyes flicked between the two Italians before he added, “I came to wake you, but I see you’re already up and… uh, with company.”

“Oh, yeah! Romano actually woke me up because—” the Northern nation began, then quickly bit his lip to stop himself. He paused, thinking for a moment, his brow furrowing in concentration before his face lit up again.

“Because he wanted to ask what kind of coffee I’d like! He was going to brew some, but wasn’t sure what I’d want since we’ve already had cappuccino and espresso the past few days. And since he knows I like to switch things up, he came to see if maybe I wanted a macchiato or something like that!” he finished excitedly, nodding before gesturing proudly toward his brother. “Isn’t Romano the nicest?”

At that, Germany glanced at the older Italian, who met his gaze with an awkward expression before replying just as awkwardly, “Ja. The nicest.” he cleared his throat. “Well, mein Bruder and I have already started eating, so you two should come downstairs as well and eat… er, drink coffee, I mean.”

“Okay! We’ll be there in a minute!” Veneziano chirped brightly.

His boyfriend gave him a small smile before closing the door, leaving the two Italians alone again. Silence hung between them for a moment, until the light-haired brunette suddenly began to laugh, bringing a hand to his mouth to stifle his giggles.

“Pfft, one second earlier and Germany would’ve heard all that sappy stuff!” he exclaimed. “That would’ve been hilarious!”

At that, Romano frowned. “No! That would’ve been an absolute nightmare!”

“How come? If you’re going to date his brother, he’s bound to find out about your feelings for Prussia,” Veneziano said casually, as if it weren’t a big deal. “What’s the difference if he found out now or later?”

“Well… it’s just that…” the older Italian fumbled over his words, searching for a clever comeback, only to realize he had none. “Ugh! Screw you, Veneziano!” he exclaimed, lightly punching his brother before jumping to his feet and storming toward the door. “Let’s just go make some coffee!” he added, yanking the door open and slamming it shut with a loud bang.

The brown-eyed man quickly got to his feet, an amused smile on his face, and hopped over to the door, opening it before following his older brother.

“Wait for me, fratelloooo!” he called out, picking up his pace until he was right beside Romano again, who shot him an annoyed scowl. The annoyance didn’t last long, though, as Romano quickly made his way downstairs into the kitchen, where he saw Prussia at the table, sticking his tongue out in concentration as he carefully cut a sandwich into two perfect halves.

The mere sight of the former nation melted all of Romano’s irritation away, pulling him toward him without a second thought. The former nation was so focused on the sandwich that he didn’t notice the Italian until Romano was right beside him. A flicker of surprise crossed his face before it shifted into a bright grin that made Romano feel warm and mushy inside. He couldn’t help but smile back at the albino.

Yeah, Veneziano was right. He really was in love with Prussia. And maybe… just maybe, Prussia felt the same way. There was only one way to find out: he had to tell him. Yes, that was it. He was going to tell him, and he was going to do it today.

Chapter Text

After breakfast... well, at least for the Germans, since Romano and Veneziano only had coffee and a few biscuits, which for them was enough... the four nations decided to enjoy the Italians’ last day in Germany. They didn’t want to do anything too tiring, though, because the brothers had an early flight the next morning. Once they landed in Italy, work would be waiting for them after a week off, so they needed to save their energy.

After talking over different ideas, they agreed to start the day with a walk in a nearby park, while it was still quiet. They dressed warmly in coats, scarves, and gloves (which Romano and Veneziano had borrowed from Germany and Prussia, since they hadn’t brought their own) before heading outside.

The streets of Berlin were (of course) covered in snow, making the city look as white as paper. When they reached the park, somehow, it looked even whiter. The paths were hidden under smooth snow, the benches looked like little hills, and the trees were heavy with frost. It was the kind of sight one might expect to find on a postcard.

Veneziano was being his usual excited self, amazed at everything despite having spent the whole day yesterday surrounded by snow. He bent down, scooped some up, and threw it into the air, laughing as it broke apart into big flakes that fluttered down before melting back into the ground. He looked like a kid seeing winter for the first time.

The younger Italian pointed eagerly at random things before practically skipping in circles around the three other nations. Then, all of a sudden, he grabbed Germany’s hand and insisted they go check the park's fountain to see if the water had frozen mid-air just like in one of those sappy Christmas films.

At first, Germany was puzzled. After all, they had visited the same fountain yesterday and seen that exact sight. But then Veneziano began throwing not-so-subtle gestures toward the two older nations, who only stared back at him in confusion. Well, at least Prussia looked confused. Romano, on the other hand, looked downright embarrassed.

Ahhh.

His brother’s attempt to get him and Prussia alone was so painfully obvious it made the Southern nation want to sink into the ground. Yes, he had said he wanted to… uh… how did people put it?... confess his love? Ugh, that sounded way too corny. Maybe he’d just stick with “getting his feelings out in the open”. Right, that was better.

It was true that he had admitted he wanted to tell the former nation how he felt today. But he had wanted to do it at his own pace and when he felt ready… not first thing in the morning! To say something that sentimental, you needed the right atmosphere, the right mood. It was supposed to be romantic! And honestly, excuse him for being too classy, but a park wasn’t exactly the ideal place to pour out your feelings to the person you liked. Something like that deserved privacy and just… so many other things you couldn’t possibly find in a park, for God’s sake!

Ah, Veneziano… the Northern nation really was trying his hardest to push him and Prussia together. It felt rushed, but Romano supposed he was grateful for the effort. (He just wished his sibling could have been a little more discreet about it. Damn it, Veneziano! There’s such a thing called subtlety! Use it!) Still, maybe he could make do with this.

It wasn’t how he had envisioned confessing, but... Veneziano wasn’t wrong to think it was better to do it sooner rather than later. After all, there were only a few hours left before tomorrow came, when he and his brother would have to leave. If he managed to tell Prussia now and things went well, they could spend the rest of the day as… as… well, what would they even be called? Lovers? The thought made Romano’s head spin in the best way possible, and despite himself, he found a faint smile tugging at his lips, like a lovesick idiot.

Yeah, they could spend the rest of the day like lovers, doing all the things lovers did… Oh, that would be so—what was it Prussia always said?—awesome. Absolutely, unbelievably awesome.

While the Southern nation was lost in his sappy thoughts, he didn’t notice Germany blinking at Veneziano before slowly turning his sharp blue eyes toward him and Prussia. The blond studied them for a long moment, his gaze flickering back and forth between the two, until something seemed to click in his mind. His eyes widened slightly, then he quickly turned back to the younger Italian, fixing him with the determined look he usually wore only during work or training.

“Alright, let’s go check out that fountain.” he said with a firm nod. The words jolted Romano from his thoughts, and he blinked at Germany in confusion. The confusion didn’t last long, though, as he quickly noticed Veneziano’s face light up. In a flash, the younger Italian was tugging his boyfriend toward the so-called interesting fountain, which (of course) happened to be in the opposite direction of Romano and Prussia. As he hurried off with his lover, Veneziano glanced back over his shoulder and, with a wink and a grin, mouthed in Italian: “Good luck!” before turning back around and laughing.

At that, Romano’s face went red, and he panicked. He quickly glanced at Prussia, wondering if he had noticed the Northern nation’s completely uncalled-for gesture. Thankfully, the albino still wore the same confused expression as before, which probably meant he hadn’t understood Veneziano’s goddamn... how could this even be called? Action? Uh. Stunt? Yes, stunt. That fit perfectly.

Ahem, continuing...!

Which probably meant he hadn’t understood Veneziano’s goddamn stunt. Thank God. The last thing Romano wanted was for Prussia to grow suspicious of him and start asking questions. That would ruin everything, because the whole point of telling the former nation he liked him was that he was supposed to do it on his own, to speak from the heart, not to be pressured into blurting it out. That wouldn’t be romantic at all.

The older Italian cringed at the thought and shook his head to clear it. He furrowed his brows and glanced back toward the two younger nations, ready to curse them out. However, unfortunately for him, they were already too far away, their silhouettes barely visible through the thick winter fog. He let out a long, frustrated sigh. God, those two could be so infuriating sometimes!

With a disapproving click of his tongue, the brunet turned his attention back to Prussia and, to his surprise, found the albino already looking at him. The moment their eyes met, Prussia flashed him that sweet grin of his, and Romano had the sudden realization that, oh man, they were alone now.... Well, not “alone”-alone, since there were still a handful of people scattered around the park. But alone in the sense that there was no one else they knew here. At least, no one Romano knew. Who knew if Prussia happened to know someone here? It was his country, after all... kinda.

Ah, whatever. You get the point.

And it was not like Romano had a problem being alone with Prussia. Quite the opposite, he liked being alone with him. However, this was the kind of alone where he knew that eventually he would have to build up the courage to spit out his feelings, and that was what made the whole situation a bit nerve racking… okay, more than a bit nerve racking.

Romano was great when it came to flirting and cheap lines like that, but he was terrible at sentimental things. And to his misfortune, confessing just so happened to be the most sentimental thing anyone could do. Hell, it was probably the very definition of sentimental, if he really thought about it.

So naturally, he was as nervous as he could be. He was sweating buckets despite the freezing cold, and his heart was racing far faster than it had any right to. It literally felt like it was about to burst out of his chest. Ah, he really needed to get it together!

“It looks like our younger brothers have completely abandoned us,” Prussia said suddenly, letting out a small laugh that snapped the Italian back to the present. “I think this is their revenge for us ditching them yesterday.”

Romano blinked, then nodded slowly. “I suppose…” he said with a small shrug, as if he didn’t know Veneziano’s intentions, which, of course, he did. “Though, I don’t know about your own brother, but Veneziano isn’t really the grudge-keeping type. I think he actually just wanted to look at that damn fountain,” he explained, gesturing lightly toward the direction their younger brothers had run off to. He then feigned a thoughtful look, as if weighing his options, before his expression shifted to one of realization. He really hoped he was pulling off this whole acting thing and not looking suspicious. “Or perhaps… it was an excuse for them to spend more time together without their older brothers around, since, well… you know, tomorrow Veneziano and I have to leave, and we probably won’t be able to visit you guys again anytime soon…”

“Ah,” the Prussian said in mild understanding. “That makes sense, yeah.” he gave a small nod, tilting his head with a faintly amused expression. “They’ve always been sappy like that,” he added with a slight eye roll before looking ahead at the snowy paths and sighing. “They’re such suckers for each other.” he mused quietly, and Romano was just about to respond and agree, since it was no secret how ridiculously sappy their brothers were, when the former nation suddenly jolted in place as if struck by lightning. The movement startled Romano, who blinked in surprise, before Prussia quickly turned his head back toward him. His red eyes widened slightly, blinking once, then twice, before he spoke slowly. “Wait… did you say you and little Italy won’t be able to visit me and West anytime soon?” he asked, sounding genuinely surprised.

At that, Romano furrowed his brows and nodded. “Uh, sì…” he replied, a bit unsure, because honestly he wasn’t certain why Prussia was asking him that.

His words made the former nation’s face twist in even greater surprise before he broke into the happiest grin ever. “So, that means you’re thinking of visiting me again? Here in Germany?” he asked eagerly, pointing at himself with eyes that practically gleamed.

Upon hearing that, it was Romano’s turn to be surprised. He hadn’t even realized he’d implied such a thing when he spoke mere moments ago... he had only been trying to cover up Veneziano’s flimsy excuse to leave them alone.

The Southern nation felt his cheeks burn again, and he had to resist the urge to smack himself just to calm down. But now that he thought about it, he wasn’t exactly opposed to the idea of coming to Germany again. In fact, he wanted to, especially if it meant spending more time with Prussia. He’d really love that.

“Well…” Romano began, stretching out the word as he averted his gaze and offered a small shrug. “I guess so, yes,” he replied, fidgeting slightly with one of his gloves. Then, with a faint smile, he added, “I had a lot of fun while I was here… if you don’t count the first part of this vacation…” he trailed off, wincing for a moment before dismissing the thought. “But after that, I really did have fun, because… well, you made it fun,” he admitted, slowly shifting his gaze to look at the Prussian, who was smiling happily back at him. “I would actually like to visit Germany again and see more of its places. Maybe not just Berlin, perhaps Munich or Frankfurt or some other city. And I would like to… um… do that with you. I’d like to be able to hang out with you again.”

At Romano’s confession, the ex-nation’s expression softened and his smile turned almost sappy. “You flatter me, South,” he said quietly, (and Romano swore he looked like he was blushing slightly, and not from the cold!) before pointing at himself proudly. “I’ll totally be waiting for your next visit, and this time I’ll be a much better tour guide than I was this week!” he exclaimed determinedly. “I’ll show you all the awesome places that the touristic agencies don’t know about, since I know this country like the back of my hand. And you’ll have way more fun than you did now!” he made a silly gesture, stretching his hands up and around to show Romano just how much fun he was going to have, which made the Southern nation snort at how childish Prussia was acting. Then the albino gestured excitedly between them. “And we’ll hang out tons!”

“That's nice to know.” the Italian said, and Prussia’s smile only grew brighter as he ran a hand through his hair and let out a laugh.

“I totally knew I could change your perspective on Germany and make you see how awesome it is!” he exclaimed, looking smug, as if he’d just achieved the greatest thing in the world. “You think it’s an awesome country now, right? Right?”

“I wouldn’t want to come back if I didn’t find it at least a little awesome.” Romano said, rolling his eyes with a huff of amusement.

At his words, the Prussian brightened up even more, if that was even possible, and looked like he was about to make another celebratory gesture. But he didn’t get the chance, because suddenly a woman appeared, holding her child by the hand, and stepped in front of the two nations. She said something in German that Romano didn’t catch and cut between them with her kid, making both of them step back. She then continued walking toward wherever she was headed.

The Southern nation blinked in confusion then turned to Prussia, hoping he would explain what had just happened, since he spoke German.

“Ah, we should probably move,” the former nation said, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “We’re standing in the middle of the path and blocking it for the people here.”

“Oh.” Romano said in realization as he looked around and confirmed that, yes, they were indeed standing right in the middle of one of the park’s many paths and probably blocking it for the passersby. Oops.

“Yeah, okay, let’s move,” the Italian said with a nod. He stepped closer to Prussia, took his hand, and started guiding him onto a different path in another part of the park. “We came here to walk around, yet all we did was stand still like two lamp posts. We should get some steps in. Plus, I actually want to see this park, not just its entrance.” he explained. With that, he released the other man and continued walking ahead, slipping his hands into his coat pockets to keep them from freezing.

Even though he was wearing gloves, it was well known that they weren’t very effective against the cold, except maybe if they had wool or some other warm material inside, which the gloves he was wearing at the moment didn’t have, since they were made of leather. It was a stupid decision on his part, because he could have chosen better gloves for himself, as both Prussia and Germany had plenty of good ones. But in his defense, he didn’t want to wear ugly gloves that didn’t match any of the clothes he was wearing. He wanted a pair that worked with everything, and that was what the leather gloves he had on now did. Sometimes in life, people had to make sacrifices, and this was one of them: either be cold but look good, or be warm and look bad. And Romano would rather be cold than look bad.

“Right, uh…” the albino stumbled over his words, falling a step behind before quickly scrambling to catch up with Romano. He cleared his throat and shook his head, trying, and failing, to look composed as he fell into step beside the Southern nation. “Yeah, let’s walk!” he said, a little too determinedly.

Romano couldn’t help but stifle a laugh at the other’s reaction. Prussia could be so funny sometimes. Actually… he always was funny.

The two nations walked around for a while, taking in the sights. Well, at least Romano was doing that, since Prussia had probably seen this place countless times in his life. The park was quite large, filled with trees and plants that, despite the heavy snow, appeared well cared for. There were also several sculptures displayed on small pedestals, which Romano appreciated, as he liked art. Prussia pointed at them and explained in great detail what each sculpture represented, why it had been created, and the year it was made. He seemed to take great pride in his people’s accomplishments, and Romano found that admirable, because a nation that loved its people was a great nation. Romano also took pride in his own people’s achievements, but he was never one to brag about them, unlike Veneziano. Hmm… maybe he should change that.

The pair continued walking down the snowy path, which seemed to go on forever throughout the whole park. They exchanged a few words, actually more like a few sentences, commenting on things they saw around the park, random thoughts that popped into their heads, or even past events from their lives. Eventually, their chatter faded into a comfortable silence.

Romano could hear the wind howling around them and catch snippets of conversation from the few people they passed. He could see faint snowflakes drifting through the air, so few that it almost did not look like it was snowing at all. He liked how comfortable he felt around the Prussian, how he did not need to fill the silence with words and could simply enjoy his presence. It felt nice. Prussia seemed to feel the same. He hummed a faint tune, looking content as ever. The atmosphere between them was really pleasant.

Perhaps… this was a good time to, uh, tell the other nation how he felt?

Um...

First, he needed to go through his mental checklist of “good moments to confess” before jumping to conclusions! Yeah, he couldn’t do anything if the list wasn’t fully checked. So... Not too many people around? Check. Fairly quiet? Check. Pleasant atmosphere between them? Check. Romantic atmosphere? Well… that was more subjective. In his opinion, a park definitely wasn’t romantic, though many would disagree. He supposed he could half-check it… but at this point, half-checking was basically the same as a full check. So… check.

Wow. Everything was checked. Which meant... this was definitely a good time to tell Prussia how he felt.

Oh.

Uh.

He hadn't thought this far ahead. Um...

Romano stole a quick glance at the albino, watching him for a moment before lowering his gaze to the ground.

Damn it. He was so nervous. He knew he shouldn’t be, since Veneziano had told him and even insisted that Prussia liked him back, and Romano had entertained that thought himself. But… he couldn’t help it. Of course he was nervous. He literally had to tell Prussia that he liked him... romantically. How could he not be nervous in a situation like this?

God.

Even with the reassurance that rejection wasn’t a possibility, it was still so, so difficult. And that was stupid, because a normal person would jump at the chance to confess to someone who liked them back without a second thought. But... well... give him a break! This was the first time he had ever been so head over heels—was that the expression?—for someone. It was hard to say anything when he was pinned under those damn red eyes of Prussia’s.

Ah, that sounded so cringey. What was wrong with him? He needed to pull himself together! Literally! This whole thing was seriously messing with his head. Augh. He envied people who had no sense of embarrassment and could just say anything at any time without restraint. Curse you, nervousness!

“Hey, you alright?” the Southern nation suddenly heard Prussia ask. The words snapped him out of his thoughts, and he glanced at the other man in slight surprise.

“Huh?” Romano managed to rasp out, his brain lagging a bit.

The former nation had a faint look of concern on his face. “You're frowning really hard,” he said, frowning himself to imitate Romano’s expression and show him what he meant, before relaxing his features back into that worried look. “Is something bothering you?”

At that, the Italian blinked and quickly shook his head, relaxing his features. Had he seriously been frowning? He hadn’t even noticed that his face had been scrunched up like that. Damn it, he hated that he couldn’t keep his emotions off his face.

“No, I’m fine,” Romano replied, feeling a bit embarrassed. He waved a hand dismissively, not wanting the other to worry over nothing. “It’s just… um, cold,” he added, wrapping his arms around himself to emphasize his words. And honestly, it wasn’t much of a lie. He really was a bit cold. Not freezing, but cold enough that it made for a convenient excuse.

“Oh,” Prussia said, drawing out the sound in understanding. “I keep forgetting that you aren’t made for the cold weather,” he said with a small, amused smile, before pointing at his scarf. “Do you want my scarf?”

“Uh, no, it’s fine,” Romano replied, pausing for a moment before adding, “Besides, I already have a scarf. Having two wouldn’t really make much of a difference.”

“Ah, right,” the ex-nation said, realizing his idea wasn’t all that good. He scrunched his face in thought, then a new idea seemed to strike him. He looked back at the Italian and motioned toward his jacket. “Do you maybe want my…” he trailed off, and Romano didn’t need to hear the rest to know what he meant.

Aw, Prussia was so sweet.

But...!

“No, you idiot!” the dark-haired brunet exclaimed, giving the German a light nudge. “I don’t want you getting frostbite because of me,” he added, shaking his head disapprovingly before crossing his arms. “You already froze your ass off last night, you don’t need to freeze now too. Besides, your jacket isn’t much warmer than mine. I bet you’re just as cold as I am…”

At his reaction, the albino let out a small laugh. “I’m really not, but fine, for your sake, I’ll keep my jacket on. Just don’t get all upset with me, older Italy!” he said, holding his hands up in surrender and grinning. “You really like worrying about me, don’t you?”

Upon hearing that, Romano felt his cheeks grow warm. Gah, Prussia really knew how to make him lose his mind. “That's because you’re so reckless with yourself, dumbass,” he mumbled, averting his gaze and letting out a half-annoyed huff. “You seriously need to start caring more about yourself and be a little more selfish. You’re way too selfless for your own good.”

“Am I now?” Prussia said with a snicker. “I’m honored you see me that way,” he added, his smile softening. “Though I’m not all that selfless with just anyone,” he explained, his voice growing quieter as he hesitated for a moment before adding, “I’m mostly selfless with you, hah…”

Oh?

At that, the hazel-eyed man snapped his head toward Prussia, staring wide-eyed at him as if he’d just heard the most shocking thing in the world, which, honestly, he kind of had. That was… Prussia had just said that so casually, but that meant… it meant… it was almost a confession by itself! That’s what it meant!

It literally felt as if the former nation had just told him he liked him, but in a very subtle way... well, not entirely subtle, but subtle enough for Romano to read between the lines. And he was an expert at reading between the lines… eh, well, not really. Most of the time he wasn’t very good at it, but in this moment, he definitely was, because no one would say something like that so casually to someone they didn’t like in a… well, romantic way.

And his face! Prussia was literally making the softest face ever, and his eyes looked completely smitten!

This had to mean what he thought it meant… right?

“That sounded kind of corny,” the white-haired man admitted, looking a little awkward as if he had just realized what he’d said. “Sorry.”

At that, Romano slowly shook his head. “No… I don’t think it was corny,” he said softly, which made the ex-nation glance at him with a faint trace of surprise on his face. “I think it’s nice that you think so highly of me that you want to be so… well, nice to me.”

Romano really did like that. Prussia was always so kind to him... always saying such nice things. Like earlier that morning, when Romano had asked him since when he ever listened to anyone, and Prussia had replied that he did not listen to anyone but he did listen to him. To Romano! If that was not the sweetest thing ever, then Romano did not know what was.

“Oh, uh… really?” the red-eyed man asked.

“Yeah,” the Italian replied with a curt nod. “Who wouldn’t like that?” he said, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

At his words, Prussia’s eyes flicked across the Southern nation’s face for a brief moment before returning to meet his gaze. “That’s a good question, older Italy.” he said, returning Romano’s smile before turning his eyes back to the road ahead.

Ah, did Romano like this guy.

The Italian felt his chest grow warm, and suddenly he couldn't feel the cold around him anymore, only his heartbeat, growing faster with every second. This was definitely the right moment to tell the other how he felt. There was no doubt about it.

Inhaling deeply, Romano gathered all the courage he could muster and slowly reached out, grabbing the fabric of Prussia’s jacket and tugging gently on it to get his attention.

“Hm?” the albino hummed, turning to look at the Southern nation with a curious, raised eyebrow.

Romano swallowed hard.

His palms were clammy, and the gloves he was wearing suddenly felt more like a burden than a help, since he was far too warm now. He wanted to look away and fidget, but he forced himself to stay still and keep his eyes on the red ones in front of him.

Ah, how he wished he had his brother’s ability to stay calm in moments like this. Veneziano’s obliviousness really was a gift.

Calm down. Calm down. You can do this, Romano told himself, exhaling shakily. Yes, he could do this. He needed to do this. If he got it over with, he could spend the rest of his days staring into Prussia’s red eyes without worrying that he was crossing any boundaries.

That thought helped clear the Italian’s mind, turning the knots in his stomach into butterflies. In an instant, Romano found himself opening his mouth, finally ready to say the words that had been building inside him ever since Prussia had comforted him on that couch… words that had grown stronger over the past few days and were now on the tip of his tongue, desperate to be spoken.

“Prussia, I…” the Italian began, trailing off for a moment.

At that, the ex-nation tilted his head. “Yeah?” he said, a confused smile on his face. “You what?”

God, why did he always do that? It was like he was intentionally messing with Romano whenever he saw him struggling to articulate a proper sentence. Oof, Prussia, you oblivious dork.

The Italian bit the inside of his cheek for a moment before courageously pressing on. “I just… I want to say that… um… over the time I’ve been here, and, uh, spent time with you… and, you know, gotten closer to you and stuff… I, um…” he hesitated before forcing himself to continue. “I actually…” Come on, say it. Say it. Say it. “I… I—” he was just about to spill his feelings out when Prussia’s eyes suddenly shifted, as if he had noticed something behind Romano. They narrowed slightly, then lit up, and before the brunet could say anything else, Prussia cut him off.

“Hey, check it out!” the former nation shouted excitedly, stopping so suddenly that Romano had to let go of him to avoid stumbling. “That stand over there looks like it sells drinks!” Prussia said, pointing behind Romano with a wide grin. “Maybe you can get something to warm up so you won’t be so cold anymore!” he dropped his hand and looked at Romano with a happy, triumphant expression, as if he had just solved all the problems in the world.

South Italy stared at him in shock for a long moment, hazel eyes wide and mouth slightly parted. “Cold…?” he finally rasped out after a few seconds of silence, his gaze burning into the other man.

“Yeah!” the albino replied, shaking his head eagerly. “You said you were cold, and since I can’t help you directly, I’m sure getting something hot to drink will help you not freeze so much,” he explained, bringing a hand to his face as he looked off into the distance. “I see they have a menu over there… hmm, maybe they have the kind of coffee you like,” he mused, squinting his eyes before shrugging. “Ah, I can’t see anything from here,” he admitted, disappointed for a moment. But, the disappointment quickly faded as he brightened up again. “We should go over there!” he suggested.

The Southern nation continued to stare at Prussia with a shocked expression, as if all his dreams had just been shattered, which, in a way, wasn’t far from the truth.

He had been so close… literally so close… to telling Prussia that he liked him. Just a few more words, and he would have said it, but then Prussia had… he had just… augh! God damn it, Prussia!

Romano had literally forgotten that he’d mentioned being cold, because it was simply so… unimportant! But Prussia apparently hadn’t forgotten. In fact, from the looks of it, he had been thinking of ways to help him warm up, which was so thoughtful, aww… but at the same time, ugh! The former nation had literally interrupted him mid confession. Couldn’t he have picked a better time?

He knew that Prussia probably hadn’t meant to interrupt him, but still… all the courage Romano had built up was now gone. His mouth was parched, his hands felt like dead weight at his sides, and he felt hollow, as if his nerves had been drained dry. He literally felt like a balloon that had just been popped.

“Oh,” the dark-haired brunet dragged out the sound. “I did say I was cold, didn’t I…?” he murmured under his breath, so quietly that he was sure Prussia didn’t hear him. That seemed to be the case, because he soon felt the other nation start guiding him toward the stand in the distance. Romano let himself be pulled along without saying anything, his chest stinging with disappointment and a touch of hurt.

They reached the stand that apparently sold drinks, and Prussia immediately began scanning the menu displayed outside. Romano, on the other hand, settled into sulking beside him, hoping it wasn’t too noticeable... but he suspected it was, since it was nearly impossible for him to hide his emotions, especially when they had to do with his heart.

The German didn’t seem to notice his sulking, though, as he was completely focused on deciding what to get for both of them to drink.

“They do have coffee,” the white-haired man pointed out, tapping the menu where the words “coffee assortments” were written in German. “But they only have lattes and frappuccinos,” he said with a thoughtful hum. “And you don’t like lattes, and frappuccinos are cold, and you also don’t like those either.” he added, frowning slightly.

South Italy gave him a side glance and murmured something under his breath, which Prussia seemed to take as a positive response as he simply nodded and continued scanning the menu. Before long, his frown disappeared completely as he found something that caught his interest.

“No way!” the albino exclaimed excitedly. “They have white hot chocolate!” he turned to look at the Southern nation with starry eyes, then back at the menu in a flash. “This is my favorite kind of hot chocolate!” he continued, straightening up and gesturing wildly with his hands. “It’s really good! It’s actually sweeter than the regular kind, which makes it a thousand times better! Have you tried it?” he asked, pointing at Romano.

The Italian's sulking faltered slightly at the other man’s enthusiasm, but it didn’t disappear completely. How could it when it was a matter of the heart? He didn’t respond right away, staying quiet for a moment before letting out a sigh.

“Yes, I did, but that was years ago,” the hazel-eyed man admitted. “I don’t really remember the taste,” he murmured softly. “I think it’s probably a heart attack in a cup, though, with how much sugar it has.”

At his words, the former nation let out an amused laugh. “You’re probably right about that, but that’s exactly what makes it so good!” he exclaimed, grinning from ear to ear. “Nothing beats getting a sugar rush from eating fifty grams of sugar! Well, in this case, drinking it,” he added matter-of-factly before gesturing toward the stand. “Come on, let’s get some. Since you haven’t had any in years, it’s mandatory! Plus, it’ll definitely warm you up, since it’ll be steaming hot!”

Romano opened his mouth to reply, ready to say that he wasn’t really in the mood for something so sweet, but he didn’t get the chance. Prussia had already started talking with the woman at the stand, pointing rapidly at what Romano assumed was the white chocolate drink on the menu. Before he knew it, a steaming plastic cup filled with creamy white liquid was shoved into his hands. He glanced down at the sugary-smelling drink, then back at Prussia, who, without hesitation, took a big gulp. Almost immediately, his expression twisted in discomfort, and he stuck out his tongue with a wince.

“Ow,” the white-haired man exclaimed, fanning his tongue with his hand. “I think I just burned my tongue.”

At that, the Italian couldn’t help but let out a small snicker, because Prussia simply looked so silly like that. “That’s what you get for trying to down that thing in one go.” he remarked before taking a cautious sip of his own drink. He cringed almost immediately at how sweet it was. Romano had a sweet tooth, sure, but not for something so sugary it could practically spike his glucose levels on the spot. “Damn it, this is pure sugar.”

“Good, no?” Prussia asked with a grin before taking a small sip of his drink, this time careful not to burn his tongue again.

“A normal person would probably get diabetes from this.” the Southern nation complained, earning another laugh from the other man.

“Good thing we’re not normal, then!” the red-eyed man said happily, blowing on the cup in his hands before taking another sip. “Ah… so good.”

Romano rolled his eyes but kept drinking from his own cup, despite the nearly overwhelming sweetness assaulting his taste buds. Prussia had been right, though, this really was a good way to warm up. The brunet supposed he couldn’t stay upset with the former nation for long. It hadn’t been Prussia’s intention to ruin his confession. It had just been a coincidence. Romano would just have to find another moment to tell him how he felt. Yes, there was still time. This wasn’t the end of the world.

With that, the Italian felt his mood lift slightly, and the disappointment in his chest began to fade. But then, suddenly—

“Oh, by the way, what did you want to tell me?” the German asked, making Romano nearly choke on his drink.

“Uh, wha… what?” the Southern nation stammered, eyes wide as he stared at the white-haired man.

“When we were walking over there,” Prussia said, gesturing in the direction they had come from, “you were about to tell me something, but I totally interrupted you, which was a bit un-awesome of me, so, sorry.” he smiled apologetically. “But you can totally tell me now. I’m all ears,” he added, gesturing toward his face. “And eyes.”

At that, Romano nearly let the cup slip from his hands. “Uhhh,” he dragged out the sound awkwardly, feeling his throat dry up and his mind go blank. “I, well…” he began, blinking before averting his gaze, staring at anything but the ex-nation. “You see, I was, um, actually…” he stammered, keeping the cup in one hand and giving a weak gesture with the other. “I just wanted to… just…” he shook his head quickly, forcing an awkward smile on his face. “Actually, I forgot!” he said a bit too loudly, cringing at himself. Way to go, Romano. “Yeah, hah, I totally don’t remember what I wanted to say!” he dragged out the lie. “It probably wasn’t that important. I’ll—I’ll just tell you later, if I remember!” With that, he fixed his gaze firmly on the cup in his hands, trying desperately not to look like he was completely panicking.

Prussia gave him a long, questioning look, one Romano couldn’t tell if it was convinced or not, before simply nodding slowly. “Oh, okay.” he said, shrugging and moving on from the subject.

The Italian let out a long sigh of relief.

Thank God. He hadn’t been mentally prepared to say anything about his feelings now... like at all.

Damn it. The universe was definitely having its fun with him. He had just been thinking about finding another moment to tell Prussia how he felt, and yet the ex-nation had brought the subject up again, nearly making him die on the spot. Gosh, his luck really was something.

The dark-haired brunet shook his head slightly before taking another sip of the far-too-sweet drink, feeling the warm liquid settle comfortably in his stomach. For some reason, he had a hunch that this whole confessing thing was going to be a huge hassle.

However...!

Unknown to him, Prussia was thinking the exact same thing. Great minds think alike, they said. Hah.

Okay, perhaps not the exact same thing. That was a bit of a stretch, but something quite similar.

How, you may ask? Well…

Romano had no idea that the former nation had been planning to confess too, while they were alone in the park, away from their brothers. Yup, that was true. Prussia really was planning to pour his heart out to the older half of Italy now that their brothers weren’t around. But... The difference was that Prussia didn’t have the same problem of being too nervous to speak. Well… partly, because how could anyone not be nervous when they had to tell someone they liked them, not knowing if that person felt the same way? He was nervous, but not too nervous, if that made sense… uh, anyway. Prussia’s real problem was that he didn’t know what exactly to say.

Yeah...

He knew, in theory, that he was supposed to say he liked Romano and then explain what exactly he liked about him, (which was literally everything) but he had no idea how to phrase it in a way that would sound… um… how to put it... appealing to the ears? Was that it? Honestly, he didn’t know, but whatever, you get the point. Prussia didn’t know how to construct this whole confession speech thingy.

Ugh.

He had said it before, but he was going to say it again: words were not his thing, and he was terrible at trying to sound inspiring or eloquent, which frustrated him because he wanted to use the prettiest words to tell Romano how he felt.

But God, thinking of the right words and fitting them into a paragraph without it sounding awkward was so hard! Why couldn’t he be as good at speeches as his cousin, Austria? That guy could make even the simplest sentence sound elegant and complex… augh! Curse you, Austria!

That wasn’t even all of it. He also didn’t know when to confess. Prussia knew there was supposed to be a “right moment,” as people liked to call it, when the mood was romantic, and they were lost in each other’s eyes, or whatever usually happened in those situations. But how exactly was he supposed to create that moment? What was he supposed to do? Just grab Romano’s hand and… take him somewhere… take him where, exactly? Augh! He didn’t know! This was exactly what he meant when he said he didn’t know what he was supposed to do! Why was this so hard?

It would definitely have been much easier if he had more practice with this sort of thing. Usually, he was the one people confessed to, since he was just that awesome and irresistible haha… ha… Ahem. Jokes aside, Prussia didn’t have much experience in this department because when he liked someone a lot, he normally didn’t go out of his way to act on it. His luck was usually rotten, and the people he liked somehow always ended up… well, not liking him back. Wow, that sounded a bit depressing.

Anyway! Now things were different, since he supposed Romano did like him back… hopefully. He had said he wanted to come back to Germany and spend time with him, and that had to count for something, right? Why would someone do that for a person they didn’t like… romantically? It didn’t make sense. So Romano had to return his feelings, even if just a little, right? Prussia hoped… he really, really hoped.

The two nations stayed there for a short while, finishing their hot chocolates. Once they were done, they tossed the plastic cups into a nearby trash can and started walking again. As they moved, Prussia tried his hardest to figure out how to bring up his… confession in a subtle way. He was pretty sure that blurting out, “Hey, I’m going to confess to you now, just so you know!” was not the most effective approach. Actually, he was certain it would be the worst.

He wracked his brain for a long, long minute, glancing at Romano from time to time. He brainstormed and brainstormed, but in the end, he came up with… nothing. Yup. Absolutely nothing. His mind was as blank as a sheet of paper. Great. Not awesome at all. Why didn’t his brain have the one thing other brains seemed to have: creativity? He could write reports fairly easily, but when it came to expressing emotional stuff, he was as bad as a first grader trying to read Shakespeare. Man, he really should have taken a poetry class or something.

As that thought crossed the Prussian’s mind, he let out a gloomy sigh, his shoulders slumping. He fixed his red eyes on the snow beneath him, occasionally noticing small jagged rocks poking through it that he felt like kicking. Another long sigh escaped him before he decided the ground was too boring and turned his attention to something far more interesting: Romano.

As he shifted his gaze, he noticed the Italian looking off to the side, away from him, with a faintly surprised expression.

That piqued the German’s curiosity.

Deciding to put a pause on his frantic attempts to figure out how to come clean about his feelings, Prussia focused on the present moment instead. He leaned forward slightly, following Romano’s gaze, and saw that he was looking at the lake a few meters away from them, which was frozen. At that sight, the former nation perked up.

“Are you looking at the lake?” he asked, making the Southern nation jump slightly and turn to look at him with stunned eyes.

Romano blinked before nodding. “Oh, uh, yeah. I’m just surprised it’s frozen since it’s only been snowing for two days,” he admitted. “Back in Italy, lakes don’t freeze, not even in winter. Well, it’s not really proper winter since it’s pretty mild, but you get what I mean,” he added, gesturing slightly with his hands. “You have to go really high up in the mountains to reach temperatures low enough to freeze water.”

Prussia hummed, shifting his gaze back to the frozen lake. “Ja, it’s pretty wild when you think about it,” he said. “Back at your place it’s almost always warm, but here it gets this cold, and just a few cold nights are enough to turn everything into a skating rink.” As he spoke, a sudden idea popped into his mind. “Speaking of skating rinks, have you ever skated on a lake before?”

At that, the Italian gave him a confused look, which soon turned into realization as he understood what the former nation was hinting at. “Oh hell no!” he exclaimed, quickly shaking his head in a very obvious refusal. “I know what you’re thinking, and I don’t like it one bit!” he added, pointing at Prussia. “You are not making me skate without skates on a frozen lake that could break at any second!”

“It won’t break, I promise!” the former nation said, holding his hands up in surrender and grinning at how well Romano seemed to know him. “I used to do this all the time with West when he was younger, and he loved it!” he added, briefly recalling those memories with Germany when he was still just a young nation. Then he turned his attention back to the Southern nation. “It’s really fun!”

“I don’t care how fun it is, it’s still insanely dangerous!” Romano retorted, crossing his hands to form an “X”.

Hearing that, the Prussian clasped his hands together in a pleading gesture. “Aww, come on,” he begged. “Humor me for just a few minutes! Ten minutes, that’s all I’m asking for!”

“No! No way!” the Southern nation shot back. He turned his head and closed his eyes in a seemingly definite manner, which should have discouraged Prussia, but instead it only made him press on further. He had always liked challenges, and Romano by himself was one.

“Five minutes?” the white-haired man tried again, hoping that cutting the time down would change the other man’s mind.

The Italian cracked an eye open and looked at him for a moment, as if reconsidering, but then closed it again and simply huffed. “Figurati! (No chance!)”

At that, the German hesitated for a moment, but then an idea struck him. He lightly tapped the other nation on the shoulder, prompting Romano to turn and look at him with that endearing frown of his.

“But, older Italy,” Prussia began, “you’re leaving tomorrow, and I really wanted to do more fun things with you before that since…” he trailed off for a moment. “I’m going to miss you, you know?” he finally added, a small smile playing on his lips.

Romano’s face twisted in surprise at his words, and his cheeks flushed pink. He seemed at a loss for how to respond, stammering for a moment before finally stopping and giving the Prussian a light punch on the arm.

“How dare you guilt trip me with that!” the Southern nation exclaimed, earning a laugh from the albino.

“It’s not guilt tripping, I’m just stating a fact!” Prussia said with amusement. “I really am going to miss you!” And it was true. He was going to miss Romano like crazy once he left. He quickened his pace and moved in front of the Italian, walking backward. “Don’t tell me you’re not going to miss me too?” he asked, pointing at himself, more in a joking tone than a serious one.

“Well…” Romano trailed off, staring at the ground. He stayed quiet for a moment before letting out a soft sigh. “I am going to miss you…” he murmured under his breath. His words made the German suddenly stop in his tracks, which forced Romano to stop as well to avoid crashing into him.

“Wait, really?” Prussia asked, a hint of surprise in his voice. He hadn’t expected the Southern nation to actually say that. He had been ready for a sarcastic reply, but maybe he should have seen this coming. After all, Romano had been saying mostly sweet things to him lately, the kind that made him feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

Romano stared at him for a moment before quietly murmuring, “Sì.” Then he added with a small smile, “I really am going to miss you…”

Prussia felt his heart melt at the other’s words. God… Romano was going to miss him. The thought made his chest tighten in the sweetest way ever, and he had to shake his head quickly to regain his composure before he ended up staring too sappily at Romano. “So… does that mean you’ll skate with me?” he asked, grinning and nodding toward the lake, his voice a little breathless.

At that, Romano’s smile wavered, and he let out a frustrated groan, which only made Prussia’s grin grow wider and his heart beat even faster.

“Mio Dio, what's up with you and liking to throw your life on the line?” the hazel-eyed man asked in disbelief, crossing his arms.

“Because it’s fun,” Prussia responded. “Plus, it’s not ‘throwing my life on the line’, skating on a frozen lake is safe as long as it’s frozen at least four inches deep.”

“And you think this one froze four inches deep in just two days?” Romano asked, raising an eyebrow. “You do realize how little time that is, right?”

The white-haired man rolled his eyes and began walking toward the lake. “Well, there’s only one way to find out!” he called over his shoulder, leaving Romano staring after him in shock.

“Prussia! You idiot, you’re going to kill yourself!” the Southern nation exclaimed.

“Ha, I can’t die, South!” Prussia said with an amused snicker, enjoying how worried the other man was getting over him. He liked that Romano cared so much. It was honestly really sweet. It even made him want to purposely put himself in danger just to see Romano fret over him. Was that crazy? Yeah, probably. But he didn’t care.

“Okay, fine, but you could totally land yourself in the hospital!” the Italian yelled as he started following Prussia.

“Fat chance, I’m way too awesome for that!” the former nation declared, kicking snow out of his way to clear a rough path toward the lake. When he finally reached the edge, he crouched slightly, scanning the frozen surface before straightening up again. Carefully, he pressed a foot onto the ice and gave it a firm stomp. To his delight, it didn’t crack. It actually seemed pretty solid. He stomped on it once more for good measure, and when it still didn't break, he lifted his other foot, ready to step fully onto the glassy surface.

But before he could, a hand seized his arm, halting him mid-motion. Prussia blinked and turned his head, coming face to face with Romano, who held onto him tightly, hazel eyes filled with worry.

“You’re being stupid,” the Southern nation said. “The ice will break, and you will end up drowning.”

At that, the albino smiled. “It won’t break,” he reassured him. “I just tested it, and it’s as solid as ice can get, completely safe to skate or walk on.”

“Yeah, but…” Romano trailed off, furrowing his brows. “You can’t be sure just from kicking it a little... What if it’s only frozen at the edges but not in the center? What will you do then?” he asked, tilting his head. “Drown?”

Upon hearing the Italian's words, Prussia shook his head. “That won’t happen,” he said, waving a dismissive hand. “This lake isn’t that deep, so the water has definitely frozen through. Also, even if the ice does break, there’s no way anyone could drown in just a meter of water.”

Romano looked like he wanted to argue but wasn’t sure how. He glanced to the side for a moment, seemingly thinking, before shifting his gaze back to Prussia. “But still…” he said, tugging gently on the former nation’s arm. “It’s not okay to put yourself in danger like this.”

The former nation’s smile softened as he slowly turned to face Romano fully. With a gentle gesture, he took the brunet’s hands in his own, earning a look of mild surprise from him.

“It’s really not dangerous,” Prussia said softly, squeezing the Italian's hands. “If you don’t believe me, I’ll show you.” With that, he walked backward onto the ice, pulling Romano along with him, whose face twisted in panic as he realized they were stepping onto the frozen lake.

“Prussia…!” the Southern nation hissed, trying to pull them back. But lake ice is far slipperier than any artificial rink, and once you start sliding, stopping is nearly impossible. Before he knew it, he was already too far from the shore to turn back and drag Prussia with him.

Realizing that, Romano shot the German a sharp scowl.

“Come on, don’t be like that,” the former nation said with a laugh. “The ice didn't break, see?” he added, glancing down at the frozen water before looking back at Romano. “It’s totally fine!”

The Southern nation reluctantly followed Prussia’s lead, his eyes dropping to the ice for a moment before meeting the other’s gaze again. His expression softened slightly. “For now…” he muttered under his breath.

“You worry too much, Roma.” Prussia said with a fond sigh before pushing off the ice with one leg, sending them sliding even farther. Romano immediately cursed at him in Italian, his voice full of annoyance. When they finally came to a stop in the center of the lake, Romano freed one hand from Prussia’s grip and gave him a light smack on the head, earning a sharp wince from the ex-nation.

“Ow! What was that for?” Prussia asked, rubbing his head with a sulky expression.

“For bringing me out to the middle of a frozen lake,” Romano said flatly. “And without proper skates, no less,” he added, giving the ice a small kick. “How are we even supposed to skate without skates?”

“You don’t need skates to skate!” Prussia said confidently. “You can do it with any normal pair of shoes!”

“Really?” Romano asked sarcastically. The German just nodded enthusiastically, prompting the Italian to roll his eyes. “That’s like saying you don’t need a fishing rod to fish.”

“Well, you don’t need a fishing rod to fish. You can use spears, nets, or plenty of other things.”

“That’s… that’s not the point, dumbass! Isn’t it more convenient to fish with a fishing rod?”

“I guess so, yeah,” Prussia replied with a soft hum before letting out a snort. “Why are you talking in metaphors?”

“Because it’s the only way to make you see how ridiculous what we’re doing right now is!” the Southern nation exclaimed.

“It’s not ridiculous.” Prussia retorted, frowning slightly.

“Yes, it is,” Romano shot back, gesturing toward the edge of the lake. “Now let’s get off this thing before one of us slips and ends up with a concussion.”

The former nation opened his mouth, ready to argue that they were not going to slip and get hurt, and even if they did, the injuries would probably heal quickly since they wouldn't be serious. But before he could say any of that, a sudden thought stopped him in his tracks. A very awesome thought. Heh.

In an instant, his frown vanished, and he had to fight back a grin as he pretended to ponder Romano’s words. Then, without warning, he let go of the Southern nation's other hand and lifted his arms up in surrender, making Romano blink at him in confusion.

“Okay, if that's what you want.” Prussia said casually. Before Romano could react, the albino placed his hands on the Italian’s shoulders and gave him a small push. It wasn’t enough to make him fall, but it sent him sliding backward across the slick ice.

Romano’s eyes widened in shock as he looked down at his feet, panic spreading across his face. He flailed to keep his balance and glared at Prussia, who was now several meters away from him.

“You bastard! I hate you so much right now!” Romano snapped angrily. “That was so uncalled for!”

Prussia broke into a loud laugh, bending forward and clutching his stomach. “Pfft, nope, that was totally called for!” he said between laughs, then straightened up and pointed at the flustered Italian. “Your reaction when I pushed you was so funny! Haha, I wish I’d taken a picture!”

Romano’s lips pressed into a sharp pout. “Asshole!” he shouted, earning another laugh from the albino. “I’ll show you funny.” he muttered through gritted teeth before pushing off the ice. He wobbled at first but soon slid determinedly toward Prussia. The white-haired man looked confused at first, then, like a light bulb going off, realized why Romano was practically charging at him. He tried to skate backward to get out of the brunet’s reach, but without skates, he was too slow. Romano quickly caught up and, with far more force than Prussia had used earlier, shoved him to the side.

“Woah—!” the former nation yelped as he slid across the ice, nearly losing his balance. Luckily, he dug the heel of one boot into the ice and came to a stop. Phew. That could have been a disaster, he thought with a relieved sigh.

The German looked up at the other nation, who was now standing with his arms crossed, beaming smugly at his apparent victory. Prussia couldn’t help but find it kind of endearing. He loved how competitive the Southern nation could get.

“You’re so gonna pay for that!” Prussia suddenly shouted, cupping his hands around his mouth to amplify the sound before dropping them and pushing forward onto the ice toward Romano.

The Southern nation’s eyes widened in surprise, his smug expression faltering. He quickly turned and slid away as fast as he could, yelling “Hell no!” over his shoulder.

The two of them chased each other across the glassy surface of the lake, their laughter and curses echoing in the cold air. They received a lot of confused looks from passersby, and some even pointed at them, but they didn’t care. They were too caught up in their fun to do that. Finally, after one last near-collision, both were breathless and exhausted and decided to call a truce.

Romano brushed a gloved hand over his face, trying to catch his breath. “God, I’m so tired,” he said with a small huff. “I can’t believe I actually just skated without skates.” Despite his words, a smile tugged at his lips. “This has got to be the stupidest thing I’ve ever done.”

At that, Prussia smirked, still slightly out of breath, and leaned toward him. “Ja, but you have to admit that this was pretty fun, right?”

Romano rolled his eyes, though Prussia could see the amusement behind them. “I suppose it was a little fun.” he admitted, then blew at his bangs, which had become frizzy from all the moving around and now partially blocked his vision.

Prussia’s face softened as he watched Romano for a long, sappy moment before quickly snapping out of it and putting on his best victorious expression. “Hell yeah!” he exclaimed throwing his arms in the air. “I told you it would be fun!” With a sudden burst of energy, he slid around Romano in a quick, clumsy circle, making the Italian follow him with his eyes.

“How do you still have so much energy after all that?” the Southern nation asked as Prussia came to a stop in front of him, grinning from ear to ear.

“I’m just that awesome,” the albino replied proudly. “Nothing can take me down!”

South Italy scoffed at that, which only made the former nation's grin widen. He was about to brag some more, just to tease Romano, when he noticed the brunet’s gaze suddenly shift past him. Curious, Prussia turned his head and saw one of the park’s security guards standing near the edge of the lake, arms crossed, giving them a flat, unimpressed stare. Oh. Oops.

The two nations stared at the security guard, then quickly turned to look at each other. After a brief pause, they both let out awkward laughs.

“…Yeah, we should probably get off the lake before we get fined…” Prussia said quietly.

“No kidding.” Romano agreed, stepping to move around the former nation. But as fate would have it, things couldn’t stay perfect for long. His boot clipped Prussia’s, and on the slippery ice, he immediately lost his balance. Instinctively, Romano reached out for something to grab onto, and unfortunately for Prussia, that something was him.

“Wha—!” the albino exclaimed, instinctively leaning the other way to stop them from falling, but it only made things worse. Their limbs tangled, and they went down like a pair of dominoes.

Prussia’s back slammed against the ice with a crack, and then his head followed, hitting the ice as well. At the impact, he hissed in pain, squeezing his eyes shut. The pain multiplied an instant later when Romano landed partially on top of him, one elbow smashing into the ice and the other jabbing straight into Prussia’s stomach.

“Urghhh—!” the ex-nation grunted, eyes bulging as he felt his insides practically shift inside of him. Ow. That hurt. Romano seemed to agree, groaning a second later.

“Ow…” the dark-haired brunet mumbled in a disoriented voice, making no effort to move away from the albino, who felt like he was dying in that moment.

“Older Italy…” Prussia wheezed out, voice strained. “You’re stabbing me with your—your—”

The Italian blinked blearily, lifting his head slightly. When he realized the awkward position they were in and that he was indeed stabbing the Prussian in the stomach with his elbow, he quickly scrambled off him and sat up.

“Ah, damn it, I’m sorry!” he quickly apologized, guilt flashing across his features as his hands hovered awkwardly over the ex-nation, unsure of what to do.

“It’s fine.” Prussia muttered groggily.

Romano winced, lowering his hands for a moment before raising one again to rub the elbow he’d hit on the ice. “...I think I hit my elbow on the ice.” he said, his face scrunched in discomfort from the pain.

Prussia let out a breathless laugh that quickly turned into a pained hiss. “Yeah? I think I hit my head on the ice.” he admitted. Slowly, he pushed himself upright, feeling the world tilt and his vision blur, which made him squint and curse under his breath. He raised a hand toward the sore spot on his head, but before he could touch it, gloved hands suddenly cupped his face, making him freeze like a deer in the headlights.

Huh?

Before the former nation knew it, Romano was right in front of him, leaning in… really close, brows furrowed with worry as his hazel eyes scanned him intently. “Really? Where did you hit it?” the Italian asked, carefully turning Prussia’s head from side to side, seemingly searching for the injury that was supposed to be there.

The albino opened his mouth to answer, but no words came out. His throat was dry, and his mind was completely blank, not a single thought running through it. Fuck. Romano’s face was so close. Too close. He could feel his breath and see the faint crease of his lips as he frowned. Oh, fuck. Heat flared through his chest and rushed up to his face until he felt like he was about to faint. Prussia no longer felt the throbbing pain in his skull. Nope. It was completely gone. The only thing he felt was the dizzying sensation that had suddenly enveloped him, making him forget how to breathe properly.

“Hey, I said, where?” South Italy repeated, his voice laced with impatience as he grew more worried.

Ah, shit. He was supposed to respond. Prussia had completely forgotten. God damn it. Okay, just answer. It's not that hard. That’s what the ex-nation would have told himself if his eyes hadn’t been glued to the Italian’s lips, wishing he could be kissing them right now. Augh! What the hell was he thinking?!

“Uh—I—” Prussia sputtered helplessly, the words tangling in his mouth and sounding strained. Just respond, you idiot! Stop stuttering! “I mean… um—” he tried to concentrate, but it was nearly impossible with his mind screaming at him: Kiss him. Kiss him.

Before the German could do anything stupid, Romano abruptly let go of his face, snapping the former nation out of his dazed trance.

“How many fingers am I holding up?” the Italian demanded, holding up three fingers.

“Four,” Prussia blurted out without thinking, feeling his pulse racing far too fast to be normal. It took him a moment, but he soon realized what he’d said and scrambled to correct himself. “Wait, three! I meant three!”

At that, Romano’s frown deepened and he tried again, this time holding up two fingers. “How about now?”

This time, despite still feeling flustered, the albino made an effort to say the correct answer. “Two!” he exclaimed a little too loudly, making him cringe at himself. Way to go, Prussia.

The Southern nation lowered his hand, looking slightly less distressed but still concerned. “Alright, you probably don’t have a concussion, but you’ll likely have a nasty bruise on your head,” he said. Prussia could only nod, his eyes unconsciously drifting back to the Italian’s lips, now turned downward. “Sorry, this is my fault,” Romano whispered, his face falling. “I should’ve been more careful and not tripped like that…”

“Uh huh…” Prussia muttered, agreeing before he even realized it. Then it hit him. “Wait, what?” he snapped his gaze away from Romano’s lips and noticed the guilty look on his face. “Oh no, it’s fine! I’m okay!” he blurted out, mentally scolding himself. What kind of idiot was he, agreeing when Romano said it was his fault? Stupid! He didn’t want the Italian feeling guilty or sad… sadness didn’t suit him. He wanted him to be happy. “It hurts a little, but it’ll go away in a few days, so don’t worry,” he added, waving a dismissive hand. “Besides, the ice is really slippery, anyone could’ve slipped here.”

Romano stared at him for a moment before letting out a small sigh of relief. “Okay, I’ll take your word for it,” he said quietly, then shook his head and put on a more determined expression. “Now let’s actually get off this thing before one of us ends up with a worse injury.” he pushed himself to his feet, wobbling a little on the slippery ice. Once he was standing, he leaned down, grabbed Prussia by the arm, and gave him a gentle tug. “Come on, I’ll help you up.”

Romano pulled the Prussian to his feet, and once they were both standing, they slowly made their way toward the edge of the lake. When they finally reached solid ground, they passed the security guard, who was still glaring daggers at them. Prussia muttered a quick apology on behalf of both of them before finding himself being dragged by the Southern nation back onto the snowy park path and toward a bench.

Romano brushed the thick layer of snow off the seat, guided Prussia to sit down, and then hurried over to a nearby stand. When he came back, Prussia was confused to see him carrying some plastic wrap. Romano scooped up a handful of snow, wrapped it in the plastic, and then handed it to him.

“Here, this should work as a cold compress,” Romano said as Prussia took the makeshift pack in his hands. “Hold it against the injured area for a few minutes.” he explained, then sat down beside him.

The albino stared at the plastic-wrapped snow for a moment before pressing it to his head. The cold immediately dulled the pain, and a small wave of relief washed over him. “This feels nice.” he murmured, leaning back on the bench with a quiet sigh.

Romano hummed in response. “That's good.”

Prussia held the cold pack to his head for several minutes, watching people pass by. When he could no longer feel his head aching, he set the pack on the bench beside him, then turned to Romano, who raised an eyebrow at him.

“Are you feeling better?” the hazel-eyed man asked.

“Yup, I’m already back in good shape,” the albino said with a smile. “I don’t feel any pain anymore,” he added, pointing at himself confidently. “Like I said earlier, nothing can take me down.”

At that, Romano smiled faintly. “Right, I forgot about that,” he said softly. “But you should probably take it easy for a few days until you fully heal.”

“You got it, Captain!” Prussia exclaimed, making a military salute.

Romano responded with an amused huff, and the German’s face immediately lit up. Finally, Romano didn’t look so gloomy. Score! He really was good at cheering him up.

The albino dropped his hands at his sides, feeling proud of himself for lifting the Italian’s mood. But as he flexed his fingers, he realized he couldn’t feel them anymore. That was strange. He usually didn’t get cold so easily. Huh. Frowning in thought, the former nation pulled off his gloves. The icy air immediately bit at his skin, and he quickly cupped his hands together, bringing them to his mouth to blow warm air over them. The Southern nation noticed and turned on the bench until he was almost facing Prussia, giving him a questioning look.

“You’re cold?” Romano asked, his gaze flicking between Prussia’s hands and his face.

At that, the German lowered his hands slightly and shook his head. “No, it’s just my hands,” he explained. “I think holding that thing took all the warmth out of them,” he admitted with a sheepish smile. “Gloves aren’t really all that useful, now that I think about it, hah.”

The Italian stayed quiet for a moment before nodding. “Yeah, they’re useless after a while,” he agreed, then glanced down at his own hands. He studied them for a bit before slowly taking off his gloves too, which left Prussia confused. Romano paused, then, to the German’s surprise, reached out and took his hands in his own. Romano’s hands were much warmer than the former nation’s, the heat of his palms making Prussia’s skin tingle. The albino stared at their intertwined fingers for a whole minute, a soft, almost mushy feeling spreading through him as the Italian gently brushed his skin to warm it. They stayed like that in silence for another moment before Prussia finally spoke.

“Your hands are warm.” he murmured, his voice almost too soft to hear.

“Yeah, I know,” the brunet responded almost immediately. “It's called keeping them in my pockets.”

“Ah,” Prussia said softly, his red eyes following Romano’s movements. “I should probably start doing that too.”

“Yeah, you should.” the Italian agreed with a small nod.

Silence stretched between them, broken only by the occasional crunch of snow under the boots of passersby and the faint whistling of wind through the nearby trees. The former nation slowly raised his gaze and looked at the other nation’s face, his eyes drifting unconsciously over every detail he could see. In that moment, a single thought crossed his mind: maybe this was it… maybe this was the right moment to tell him how much he cared about him and how much he wished to have him in his life for as long as the world would last.

He still didn’t have a speech prepared. He still didn’t know what to say or how to say it. And yes, he still wanted to tell the Italian his feelings in a way that would leave him mind-blown, but he supposed he could do with what he had now. He supposed he could just say everything that was on his chest as it was there, and not try to make it a bigger deal than necessary. After all, what truly mattered was honesty and genuine intent, not the extravagance of the words or the length of the speech. If it came from the heart, that had to be enough, right?

Suddenly, Romano lifted his eyes and caught Prussia staring. His eyes widened slightly in surprise, and he tilted his head, a hint of curiosity and something unreadable flashing across his face.

The ex-nation swallowed hard, his heart hammering in his chest. He inhaled sharply, mustering up his courage, before opening his mouth to speak. “Uh,” was all that came out, followed by silence. Romano just stared at him, growing more confused by the second, which made Prussia want to smack himself for already losing his train of thought, even though he’d barely started talking. Get it together, Prussia! he mentally scolded himself. You’re awesome. You can do this! He repeated the words to himself before clearing his throat.

“Ahem, what I meant to say was… uh, South, I have something I want to tell you…” the former nation said, averting his gaze to the side before forcing himself to meet Romano’s eyes again. If he was going to do this, he was going to do it properly. “It’s something I’ve been thinking about for a while now… how long? I’m not sure, but for a pretty long time. And… um, I think it’s time I tell you,” he continued. Romano’s expression grew even more curious, which only made Prussia more nervous, but he pushed on.

“So, the thing I’m talking about is…” he trailed off for a second, gritting his teeth before finally going for it. “Romano, I—” he began, using Romano’s full name, no nicknames, no anything. That was how he spoke when he was serious, and he had never been more serious in his life. But... life was unpredictable, often throwing obstacles in people’s paths, and unfortunately for Prussia, this was one of those times. Just as he was about to get the words out, a random hand slipped between them, shoving a sheet of paper into the narrow space, causing both men to jerk back in surprise.

“Bitte haben Sie eins! (Please, take one!)” a voice called out, and the two nations turned to see a man holding a stack of fliers in one arm while waving another in their faces with a wide, cheerful smile.

Prussia stared at the flier, then at the man, frozen in shock for a full minute before frowning in frustration. “You’ve got to be kidding me…” he hissed under his breath. How could this happen right when he’d been on the verge of… of telling Romano that he liked him? Augh! What the hell? This had to be the lamest way for someone’s confession to get interrupted!

Ugh...

What was up with this guy? Okay, Prussia understood he was just doing his job, which was handing out fliers to as many people as possible, but... didn't he see that he and Romano were having a damn moment here? Like… they were holding hands and everything! Prussia was sure the man had done it on purpose, just to spite him. Yeah, that had to be it. How could he do that to the awesome Prussia?

The former nation was fuming, shooting a sharp glare at the man handing out fliers, hoping he would get the hint and leave. But the man didn’t, not even sparing Prussia a glance as he turned toward Romano, who looked thoroughly confused. To Prussia’s horror, the man handed the flier to Romano, and the Italian actually reached out and took it. Nooo, Romano, don’t fall for that guy’s trap! Romano blinked, his hazel eyes narrowing as he scanned the page, filled with bold German text he probably couldn’t understand.

Prussia stared at him in disbelief, then turned his attention back to the flier hander, ready to give the man a piece of his mind about how neither he nor Romano needed his stupid fliers. But he didn’t get the chance. Without warning, the man slammed a flier into Prussia’s face, which then fell right into his hands. Shocked, the albino stared at the paper for a moment before looking up, only to find the man gone. He was already striding off, handing out more fliers to passersby without so much as a glance back.

What... what the hell...?! The nerve of that guy!

The albino felt one of his eyes twitch and let out a sharp huff. He gripped the paper with white knuckles, crumpled it into a ball, and angrily tossed it onto the path.

Screw that damn human!

“That was unnecessary.” Prussia heard Romano say.

“No, it was totally necessary.” the ex-nation replied matter-of-factly, crossing his arms and slumping back onto the bench like a defeated soldier. The high he had felt just moments ago, when he had been on the verge of confessing his feelings to the Southern half of Italy, had vanished, replaced by irritation.

At his words, the Italian frowned slightly. “You’re littering.” he pointed out. Prussia shot him a side glance, thought for a moment, and then sighed, returning his gaze to the crumpled flier on the ground. He got up, walked over, picked it up, and tossed it into a nearby trash can. Then he returned to the bench, sat down next to Romano, and slumped back into his previous upset posture.

The Southern nation continued to watch him with a small frown before turning his attention back to the flier in his hands. He held it close to his face, squinting, then pulled it away and tilted his head, clearly trying to make sense of it. Scooting a little closer, he tapped Prussia on the shoulder. “What does this say?” he asked, pointing at the flier.

“I don't care.” the former nation responded sulkily.

“Well, I do.” Romano remarked, and the Prussian had no choice but to straighten up and read the stupid flier for him. He was far too much of a sucker for Romano to deny him anything, even if he was annoyed.

“It’s about some event that’s going to be held in the town square in December for Christmas about, well… Christmas,” he responded, letting out a huff. “It’s stupid. No one actually goes to these things,” he murmured. “Plus, you’re not even going to be here for it anyway.”

At that, the Southern nation folded the flier in half and set it on the bench, then looked at Prusia with a raised eyebrow. “Why are you suddenly so upset?” he asked. “Do you seriously hate these kinds of events that much?”

“No, it’s just that—” the white-haired man began, then froze. How could he explain why he was upset without admitting that he had wanted to tell the Italian how he felt? With their moment completely ruined, there was no way he could say anything now. It wouldn't be awesome at all. “I wanted to say… something, but that guy kind of interrupted me with his fliers and everything…”

“Oh,” Romano said, a look of realization crossing his face. “Yeah, that’s right, you were preparing to tell me something.” he looked at the ex-nation with curious eyes. “What was it?”

At that, Prussia felt his face grow warm so he looked away. “It’s not important anymore.”

“Eh? Why not?” the Southern nation asked in surprise, then frowned slightly. “You said it was something you’ve been wanting to say for a while, so it must be important. That’s why you’re so upset,” he pointed out, which made Prussia mentally curse at himself. Fuck. Damn himself. “So, come on, spit it out!”

“Er... really, it’s not that big of a deal,” the albino said shakily, waving a dismissive hand to get Romano to back off. “It’s actually pretty stupid… it won’t interest you.”

“How do you know that?” the Italian asked, then added firmly, “It interests me now, so it will probably interest me when I hear it too.” he leaned in a little, invading Prussia’s personal space just enough to make the former nation’s heart skip a beat, and nudged him slightly. “Come on, tell me.”

Prussia’s lips twitched in frustration, amusement, and fluster all at once. God, it was like Romano knew exactly what he was doing to him. Ah, the Italian… sometimes he was far too persistent for his own good. It wasn’t that Prussia didn’t want to tell him how much he liked him. He did. He really did. But right now, the atmosphere was… how to put it… not romantic enough. Yeah, that was it. It wasn’t romantic at all. It was probably the least romantic atmosphere ever. When they had been holding hands... then the atmosphere had been good, but now it was a whole different story. If he tried to tell the Italian all the feelings in his heart, it would probably come out awkward, overwhelming, and just not right. That was why he couldn’t say anything now. Yup.

He was totally not making excuses because he was suddenly nervous… haha… ha.

Drawing in a sharp breath, the former nation shook his head and quickly redirected his attention to his gloves, slipping them on to distract himself from the way-too-close Romano beside him. “It’s nothing. Forget about it.” he muttered, practically exhaling the words out.

Upon hearing that, the dark-haired brunet narrowed his eyes at him, unsatisfied with the response. “No, I’m not forgetting about it. Tell me.” he demanded.

“Nope.” Prussia said simply, turning his head away and pretending to be suddenly fascinated by the lamp post beside him.

At that, the Southern nation opened his mouth to retort but then closed it, pressing his lips into a thin line. He stayed quiet for a moment before sighing. “Fine, don’t tell me,” he said, scooting an inch away from the German and picking up his gloves to put them on. “Keep your secrets.” he mumbled, shoving his hands into the pockets of his coat and brooding.

Prussia couldn’t help but glance at the other man from the corner of his eye, and when he saw Romano’s unhappy expression, he felt a bit bad. He hadn’t meant to upset him… but Romano had to understand where he was coming from. Well, he couldn’t exactly explain himself, so maybe Romano couldn’t understand. However, Prussia was certain that if Romano were in his shoes, he would get it. Actually… the Italian probably wouldn’t get it, since he was most likely way better at all this lovey-dovey stuff than he was. After all, Italians were known for it.

...

The thing was, the German was going to tell Romano that he liked him… eventually… when he found another good moment. Exactly! So it wasn’t like he was actually keeping any secrets from him. They were going to be out... later. Uh, how much later? He didn’t know, but he was definitely going to say it. Yup!

So, it wasn’t like he was doing anything wrong now, right…?

Prussia thought about saying something more to the other nation, maybe an apology, but decided against it and held his tongue. Instead, he focused on the sky and the many clouds above, which were grey and somber like they usually were in Germany.

He didn’t want Romano to be upset with him... Hmm, how could he fix this?

As he pondered that, his red eyes landed on a particular cloud with two half circles that looked like angry eyes. That made the white-haired man perk up.

Quickly, he raised a hand and pointed at the sky. “Hey, that cloud looks like you!” he exclaimed, catching the other’s attention.

The Southern nation looked up at the sky and blinked. “What cloud?” he asked, frowning in confusion.

“That one,” Prussia said, gesturing toward the cloud he was referring to. “It’s all grumpy, just like you.”

At that, the Italian crossed his arms. “I'm not grumpy.”

“Sure you aren’t.” Prussia said in a joking tone, which didn’t go unnoticed by Romano, who huffed in response.

“I still don’t see what cloud you’re referring to,” the dark-haired brunet said. “You’re probably hallucinating from hitting your head.” he added under his breath, his tone annoyed, but Prussia caught the faint tug at his lips. Phew, he thought, a small wave of relief washing over him

“Believe what you want, older Italy,” the albino exclaimed with a shrug. “I’ll know in my heart of hearts that I’m right.”

At that, Romano rolled his eyes, but he seemed in much better spirits than before, and that was all the German cared about in that moment, seeing Romano not in a bad mood. They stayed on the bench for a little while, exchanging a few words, before deciding to get up and take a few more laps around the park.

During that time, both nations, unknown to the other, tried to express their feelings, but unfortunately, things kept popping up and ruining their attempts. No matter how hard they tried or how much effort they put in, the universe seemed determined to keep them from confessing, which started to annoy both of them. What was the universe’s problem today?

Before they knew it, a few hours had passed, and they met up with their younger brothers, who had called to ask them to regroup so they could all get lunch together. As soon as the four nations were reunited, Veneziano latched onto Romano’s arm, tugged him slightly away from the Germans, and began bouncing around him like an excited child.

“So, did anything happen?” the light-haired brunet exclaimed, eyes bright. “Did you tell him, you know what?” he asked, stopping in place and clasping his hands together excitedly. “Tell me! Did you? Did you?”

At his younger brother’s words, Romano visibly deflated, a distressed look crossing his face as he looked away from Veneziano. Noticing this, Veneziano faltered slightly in his excitement.

“What’s with the long look?” the Northern nation asked, furrowing his brows slightly. “Everything's okay, no?” he added, placing a hand on the older Italian’s shoulder in a comforting manner.

Romano stayed quiet for a moment, lips pressed into a tight line, before suddenly raising his hands to his face and pressing his palms against it, letting out a low groan.

“No, everything is not okay!” he exclaimed, his words muffled. “Everything is terrible!”

“Ah, why is that?” Veneziano asked, suddenly growing worried for the older nation. “Did things not go well with…” he trailed off.

“Yes!” Romano burst out, making the Northern nation’s face fall. He lowered his hands and, catching sight of his brother’s distraught expression, quickly added, “Wait, not in the way you’re probably thinking!” he waved his hands frantically, which made Veneziano blink and lift a skeptical brow. Romano let out a long sigh before finally admitting, “It’s just that… I didn’t get to tell Prussia that I… well, that I like him.”

“Oh…!” the younger Italian exclaimed, relief washing over his features before quickly giving way to confusion. “Wait, why not?”

“Because… how do I put this…” the Southern nation muttered, pausing for a moment before making a weak gesture with his hand. “Things just kept getting in the way.”

“What do you mean?” Veneziano asked, tilting his head to the side.

At that, the older man shrugged. “Somehow, every time I wanted to tell him that I like him, something would happen to interrupt me, and then all my courage would just disappear, and I’d have to build it up again,” he explained with growing frustration, “only to be interrupted again and lose it all over.” his hands clenched into fists as he kicked at the ground. “It’s like the world is against me and doesn’t want me to be happy!” he exclaimed with a scowl.

“Oh, don’t say that,” Veneziano said, patting the Southern nation’s shoulder in an attempt to calm him down. “It just sounds like you have bad timing,” he said softly, though the words didn’t quite come across the way he intended. Romano shot him a flat look, looking unimpressed. Noticing it, the younger Italian gave him a sheepish smile. “I didn’t mean that in a bad way,” he said quickly. “Sometimes things just don’t go according to plan, no matter how much you want them to. And that’s okay. You don’t have to get upset over it, you just have to find a solution!” he finished with a nod to emphasize his words.

“And that is what exactly...?” the dark-haired brunet asked, fixing his brother with expectant eyes.

“Well, there’s still time for you to tell Germany’s older brother how you feel. You have the whole afternoon and evening, and there’s no way you’ll keep getting interrupted for the rest of the day,” Veneziano explained with a smile. “That’s the solution. You just have to stay positive and keep trying until you get it right. And I know you will, fratello. I believe in you.”

At the younger Italian’s words, Romano felt himself relax and couldn’t help but smile back. “You’re right,” he agreed with a small nod. “This was probably just a fluke. I shouldn’t stay negative because nothing good will come of it. There are plenty more opportunities for me to tell Prussia how I feel, so there’s no reason to be frustrated.” he exclaimed, suddenly feeling confident. “Sì, I can do this!” he hyped himself up, then gave his brother a grateful look. “Grazie.”

“No problem!” Veneziano said happily. “Now let’s get back to Germany and Prussia before they think we ditched them,” he added with a small laugh. He turned toward the direction where the two Germans should have been, only to realize they weren’t there. “Uh, where did they go?” he asked, blinking in confusion as his eyes scanned the park. Finally, he spotted them standing near the entrance, surprisingly far away.

Veneziano tilted his head, then turned to Romano, who looked just as puzzled. “Why are they all the way over there?” he asked, one eyebrow quirking up before he shook his head. “Whatever. Let’s go to them!” Taking Romano’s hand, he gently tugged him along toward the two Germanic nation.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the park, the Germans were having a conversation remarkably similar to the one the Italians had just had... eh, kind of.

“What’s wrong with you?” Germany asked, glancing at his brother with a faint frown. “Why did you drag me all the way over here?”

Prussia didn’t answer right away. He stood still, staring at the snow beneath his boots before finally letting out a heavy sigh. “West… things didn’t go well.” he admitted quietly, his shoulders slumping with disappointment.

Germany’s frown deepened. “What didn’t go well—” he began, but quickly stopped as a look of recognition crossed his features. “Oh,” he said, his expression softening with understanding before twisting slightly in pity. Awkwardly, he placed a hand on Prussia’s back and gave him a few pats, which were meant to be comforting, though they came off a bit stiff. “I’m sorry,” he said in an apologetic tone. “I thought things would turn out differently… I really did...” he paused, then shook his head slightly. “But you shouldn’t let this dishearten you. I’m sure things will look up for you in the future. You’ll… you’ll find love one day.”

At that, Prussia snapped his head up and looked at his brother in disbelief. “What are you talking about?”

Now it was the blond’s turn to look confused. “Uh,” he said, gesturing vaguely with his hand. “You said things didn’t go well, so… I'm assuming Romano turned you down?”

“What?!” the albino exclaimed, staring wide-eyed at his brother, who in that moment looked like he seriously couldn’t understand what was going on.

“Isn’t that what happened…?” Germany asked, tilting his head slightly.

“No!” Prussia snapped, shrugging off his sibling’s hand. “What the hell, West? Why would you even assume that?” he crossed his arms and scowled. “Unbelievable. That’s the first thing you think when I’m upset? God, you really have no faith in me…” he muttered bitterly.

Germany blinked, though a flicker of relief crossed his features at the realization that Romano hadn’t rejected him. “Alright… I’m sorry for jumping to conclusions, that was wrong. But…” he paused, searching for the right words. “If Romano didn’t turn you down, then why do you look so troubled? You have to understand me, bruder, I’m just trying to make sense of this.”

“Because I didn’t get to say anything, West,” the ex-nation responded angrily. “I never got to tell Romano I like him. Every damn time I tried, something would interfere and the chance would just slip away.” he groaned, running a hand through his hair. “Verdammt! (Damn it!) I’m so annoyed!”

“Oh,” Germany said, caught off guard by the answer. He went quiet for a moment before continuing carefully. “Yes, that does sound frustrating. But… couldn’t you have just tried again after one of those interruptions?”

“No!” Prussia exclaimed, shaking his head hard. “It wouldn’t have been the same! There has to be a certain mood for this, you know? You can’t just blurt it out whenever! It doesn’t work like that!”

“Okay…” Germany said, his features tightening slightly. “Then couldn’t you have tried a little later, once things settled down? To rebuild the mood, as you put it?”

“I would have, but you and little Italy called us over for lunch!” the former nation shot back.

“That’s… we weren't aware that you were planning to do that at the time,” the blond explained. “Honestly, I thought you’d already done it…” he muttered under his breath before shaking his head slightly. “Well then? Why don’t you just do it now?”

Hearing that, Prussia glared at his younger sibling as if he had just said the most ridiculous thing ever. “Because you and little Italy are here! How am I supposed to pour my heart out with you guys right around the corner?”

At that, Germany’s expression shifted into an unimpressed look. “You know, this is starting to sound less like mysterious forces are interfering with your so-called confession and more like you’re just reluctant to actually say you like him when the moment comes, and because of that reluctance, you keep losing your chance.”

At that, the former nation gaped at him in shock. “I’m not reluctant!” he responded, frowning. “That’s such an un-awesome thing,” he added, shrugging. “I’m just having trouble getting my words out, because I don’t really know how to say this kind of stuff…”

“I’m pretty sure that’s what reluctance is.”

“It’s not!” the albino snapped. “And mysterious forces really are interfering with me getting my feelings out!”

“Mhm,” Germany said, almost sarcastically, bringing a hand to his temples in annoyance. “You know, I’m actually starting to get irritated with you beating around the bush like this,” he confessed with a sigh. “You either do it or you don’t. You don’t just half do it or whatever it is you’ve been doing up until now.”

“That’s rich coming from you,” Prussia retorted. “You didn’t have to do anything to get with little Italy. All you had to do was say yes, because he did all the work. You had it easy.”

Germany looked like he wanted to argue, but then paused. He couldn’t exactly deny what Prussia had said. “…Fine. That part’s true. But you’ve got it fairly easy yourself,” he countered. “From what I’ve seen, because I actually pay attention, unlike you, your chances are pretty good. So you don’t need to worry as much as you do.”

“I’m not worrying,” Prussia muttered, though his tone betrayed him.

Germany had to fight the urge to smack him. “Whatever.” he straightened up, fixing his brother with a firm look. “You still have time to act on these feelings, and I hope you do. But that time isn’t unlimited. You can’t keep dodging the issue. You need to take initiative and just get it over with, for your own sake, and honestly, for mine too.” he paused, his voice softening slightly. “Remember this, bruder. If you keep waiting for the perfect moment, and every time something goes wrong you back out because it doesn’t feel perfect enough, then you will never succeed. Things are bound to go wrong no matter how much you prepare. That is just life, especially in relationships. I would know. But you are strong enough to say what is in your heart. I know that. Push yourself a little harder, and I promise you will not regret it.”

Prussia blinked at him, the disappointment he’d felt earlier fading slightly, but he didn’t have time to fully process his brother’s words. Just then, the two Italians appeared, Veneziano running toward them while dragging Romano along.

When the two skidded to a stop, Veneziano released his brother and turned to the Germans with a puzzled look. “Why did you guys come all the way over here for?’ he asked.

Hearing that, Germany shot the Prussian a sideways glance for a moment before turning his attention back to his lover and waving a dismissive hand. “We started walking and just… lost track of how far we’d gone. Sorry, we didn’t mean to leave you behind.”

Veneziano nodded slowly, his eyes flicking between the two Germanic nations as if he were thinking something, before breaking into a smile. “It’s fine!” he said, clasping his hands together and lighting up. “So… are we going to lunch now? I’m really hungry, and so is mio fratello!”

“Yes,” Germany said, glancing at Prussia again before nodding toward Romano. He took North Italy’s hand and started walking ahead with him. “Come on, let’s go.” he added, leaving the older nations no choice but to follow after them. Both stole not-so-subtle glances at each other, each silently thinking that they definitely needed to tell the other how they felt or they were seriously going to lose it.

Chapter Text

Fate, unfortunately, wasn’t on Romano’s or Prussia’s side. At all. Both of them thought, thanks to their brothers’ encouraging words, that they’d finally get the chance to tell the other how they felt and that everything would be fine from there. But... that didn’t happen. Nope. The complete opposite happened.

Lunch was a disaster. The tension was so thick that their younger brothers kept exchanging glances and mouthing words to each other the older nations couldn’t make sense of. Eventually, Veneziano, probably fed up with the whole thing, finished his food quickly and announced he was going to check out the dessert display on the other side of the restaurant. Of course, he pulled Germany along with the excuse that he wanted his opinion on what to choose. Germany agreed without protest, more than willing to give the older nations space to talk. And God, did they need to talk

Except, of course, things didn’t go as planned.

Both Romano and Prussia chose the exact same moment to speak, blurting out their confessions over each other. They froze, stared one another, and then fell into an awkward back-and-forth of “you go first”. In the end, neither of them managed to get a single word out before their brothers returned. Seeing that, the younger nations looked seconds away from facepalming.

The “failing confessions” repeated themselves at the town square. Street performers and artists filled the area, and once again Veneziano and Germany found a flimsy excuse to disappear. Romano seized the chance and tried to confess as they passed a group of musicians, but the music drowned out his words and Prussia didn’t hear a thing. The albino asked him to repeat himself, and Romano, too embarrassed and furious with himself, refused to try again.

The former nation, for his part, worked up the courage a little later to tell the Italian that he liked him, only to be interrupted by a bunch of tourists asking him to take their photo. He wanted to scream, but instead he took the picture, because he was, frustratingly enough, nice like that. Even so, the disappointment made him want to rip his hair out.

The pattern repeated itself over and over again: nervousness, interruptions, bad timing, and so on. By the time the older nations ran into their brothers again, Germany and Veneziano were looking at them expectantly, but when they saw their strained expressions, both had to bite back groans of frustration.

At one point, Veneziano even offered to confess on Romano’s behalf. Romano, however, shot the idea down with a furious string of curses, because what the hell, it didn’t work that way! But as the sun dipped lower, showing that there was almost nothing left of the day, the Southern nation began to regret not taking his sibling up on that offer.

In the end, the four of them returned home. Oof. Why? Because Veneziano needed to finish packing, while Romano needed to… start and somehow finish packing, since he hadn’t packed a thing and he had many... many things to pack.

So there he was, kneeling next to his suitcase in the guest room he had been… sort of staying in, surrounded by a pile of clothes and belongings, trying to cram everything inside. As he wrestled with his luggage, he tried to ignore the dread clawing at his chest, but it was difficult, because despite every chance, every moment he could have taken, he still hadn’t managed to tell Prussia how he felt.

God, was that frustrating! He should have been better at this! He wasn’t supposed to suck so badly! He was Italian, for crying out loud! His Grandpa, if he could see him now, would probably be undeniably disappointed that he couldn’t manage to pursue a damn relationship. Forgive him, Rome! But it was hard… waah, it was so damn hard! His head spun, his heart raced, and his words flat-out refused to form whenever he had to look the former nation in the eyes and tell him how he felt. It was a terrible feeling, but at the same time... strangely thrilling in an addictive way, if that made any sense. Wow. Romano had to be the strangest nation alive to think like that. Fuck. Actually, no, he couldn’t compete with France. That one was the real weirdo. But still…

The Italian picked up a shirt from the big pile of clothes, gripping it so tightly his knuckles ached before he tried to fold it, hoping the motion would get his mind off things and help him relax a little, since he’d practically been on edge all day. But it didn’t work. Of course it didn’t work. Because... how in the world was he supposed to stop thinking about his countless failures or the fact that tomorrow he was expected to fly back to Italy, just like that, and start working as if nothing had happened? How could he do that?! He couldn’t. That's how. He simply couldn't.

He couldn’t go back home.

Not yet.

Not when this thing with Prussia was still unresolved.

But he had no choice… he had to go home… Oh God!

And now he had no more time… damn it!

In an instant, Romano crumpled the shirt in his hands and pressed it to his face, letting out a frustrated groan.

Screw everything!

He was so lost in his own pity that he didn’t notice the footsteps approaching until a familiar voice broke through his thoughts.

“What did that shirt ever do to you, South?” Prussia’s amused tone made Romano jump. He whipped his head around to see the albino in the doorway, a small grin on his face, though it seemed a little sad, or maybe Romano was just imagining it.

The Italian let out a sigh, trying to calm himself after the scare Prussia had given him, before frowning and tossing the shirt at the other nation, who caught it in surprise.

“You gave me a heart attack, idiot!” Romano exclaimed, crossing his arms and huffing in frustration.

“Hah, sorry, I didn’t mean to,” the albino said with a dry laugh, moving closer and kneeling beside the Italian. “I just wanted to see what you were up to, that’s all.” he admitted, handing the shirt back to Romano.

The Southern nation took the shirt, his shoulders sagging slightly. “Packing,” he replied bitterly. He crumpled the shirt into a ball and tossed it into his suitcase with the other poorly folded clothes. “It’s all I can do now.”

At that, Prussia’s features tensed slightly, and he gave a small, almost uncertain nod. “Right,” he said quietly. “Since you’re leaving tomorrow morning…” he trailed off, and Romano grimaced because he really didn’t want to go.

The ex-nation cleared his throat and let out an awkward laugh. “Though I’m not sure if what you’re doing counts as packing. You’ve just thrown everything in here randomly, one on top of the other. I’d be surprised if you can even close this thing when you’re done.”

At that, Romano felt a little lighter, since Prussia’s joking always put him in a better mood. He swatted a hand at the former nation with a scoff. “It’ll close,” he said, grabbing more clothes and shoving them into the cramped luggage. “That’s how I came with it, and that’s how I’ll leave.” In a blur, he threw the rest of his belongings in, forming a kind of tower. When he was finished, he wiped his hands on his pants and gave Prussia an accomplished look. “See? Everything fit.”

“Aha,” the albino said, his eyes shifting between Romano and the suitcase. “You still have to close it, though.” he reminded him.

“I know,” the Italian said with an eye roll, grabbing the top of the suitcase and trying to pull it over the mountain of clothes. However, it didn’t really work. Romano narrowed his eyes and glanced at Prussia, who raised an eyebrow, before he turned back to his luggage. “Just give me a second.” he said, placing both hands on the top of the suitcase and pressing down with all his strength. Even so, the suitcase still refused to close.

“Uh…” the albino began, but Romano raised a hand to silence him, pressing down on the suitcase with his elbow.

“I’ve got this!” the Italian exclaimed, slamming his other hand onto the suitcase and practically punching it. Prussia tilted his head, both concerned and amazed at the sheer determination Romano was putting into closing his luggage.

The Southern nation, however, did not “have this” as he had so eloquently put it. No matter how much he tried, the damn suitcase would not close. He knew it was probably because he had not arranged his things properly, but goddamn it, he hated doing that, and he was allowed to hate things in life. Everything had fit in his suitcase when he came to Germany, and he had not arranged his stuff much then either, so it should fit now as well. But for some reason, it did not. Why?!

Romano wrestled with the damn suitcase for what felt like forever before finally slumping back with a defeated sigh. Yeah… packing was the worst.

The former nation gave him a long, amused look, then tried and failed to stifle a laugh behind his hand.

Romano shot him a sharp side glare. How dare he laugh at his suffering!

“Stop laughing. It’s not that funny.”

“It kinda is, though!” Prussia responded.

“Shut up!” the Italian snapped, crossing his arms and looking away. “If you just came here to laugh at me, you might as well leave.” he grumbled under his breath. However, he didn’t really mean it... he actually didn’t want the Prussian to go and hoped he wouldn’t. He was simply frustrated with himself because of… well, you know. And when he was frustrated, every little thing set him off, like his damn suitcase or being laughed at.

The former nation took a deep breath to calm himself down, then raised his hands in surrender, an apologetic expression on his face. “Okay, sorry. No more laughing,” he said, then added, “I just find it funny, since I kinda saw that coming.”

At his words, Romano glanced at Prussia for a split second, then looked down at the floor and quietly mumbled, “Whatever.”

The Germam was silent for a moment before lifting the top of the suitcase off the pile of clothes. He brought a hand to his face, thinking. “You know, I think you’ll be able to fit all of this in here if you organize it properly.”

“That's too much work,” the Southern nation responded immediately. “I don’t have the mood or the patience for that.” he picked up a belt he didn’t even remember packing or wearing on this whole trip and shoved it into the suitcase with a forceful push. Unfortunately for him, it sprang back awkwardly, stuck halfway in and halfway out of the godforsaken thing. “Damn this.” he muttered sharply.

“That's one way to look at it,” the German replied. He took the belt Romano had just crammed inside, rolled it neatly, and handed it back to the brunet with a bright smile. “I personally think organizing things is pretty fun!”

“That's because you're a neat freak by nature,” the Italian retorted, setting the belt on the ground and pointing at Prussia with a disapproving shake of his head. “Only you and your brother could think something this boring is fun.”

At that, the former nation let out a small laugh. “Guilty as charged, but in the long run, it’s a pretty awesome quality, you know? It comes in handy with work and other difficult stuff.” he gestured toward Romano’s suitcase. “For example, packing.”

“Hah, you’re real hilarious.” the Southern nation said sarcastically, and Prussia only beamed brighter.

“Thanks, that’s another awesome quality of mine!”

“I was being sarcastic, dumbass.” Romano muttered. Even so, his frustration slowly began to melt away the longer he stayed in the former nation’s presence. It was strange, considering Prussia was partly the reason he’d been frustrated in the first place.

“I know,” the German said, grinning. “But I also know you actually think that about me. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be smiling so much every time we hang out.” he made finger guns, and the Italian couldn’t help but avert his gaze, a faint blush creeping onto his cheeks. Prussia was as right as he could be. “So I take even your sarcasm as high praise.”

“You really need to get that ego of yours checked...” Romano grumbled, though the faint tug at his lips betrayed him. He bit the inside of his cheek to keep himself from smiling, but he was certain Prussia noticed anyway. He always did. The man was far too attentive for his own good.

“Whatever you say, South.” Prussia said, starting to pull all the cramped-up clothes from Romano’s suitcase and lay them on the floor, emptying it completely. The Italian raised a confused eyebrow.

“What are you doing?” he asked, blinking in both confusion and curiosity as his eyes flicked between the German and the suitcase.

“Helping you pack, isn’t it obvious?” Prussia replied, beginning to fold shirts and place them neatly inside.

The dark-haired brunet watched the other nation’s movements for a moment, a bit surprised, before whispering, “I don’t need help.”

“Yeah,” Prussia agreed briefly, then added with an amused huff, “You need more than help to deal with this mess.”

Romano shook his head, shaking off the surprise, and threw a faint glare at the albino. “Asshole.” he murmured, earning another amused laugh from the ex-nation.

“That’s me!” Prussia said happily, picking up a dress shirt from the pile and shoving it into Romano’s hands before taking one for himself. “Here, fold it like this.” he demonstrated, folding the shirt nicely and showing it off proudly to the Italian. Romano hesitated, then looked at his own shirt and reluctantly mimicked the folds.

Prussia gave him a thumbs-up, took the folded shirt, layered it over his own, and placed them in the suitcase. He continued handing clothes to Romano and folding alongside him. Despite usually hating this kind of work, the brunet found it much more bearable with Prussia around. It wasn’t as annoying as it normally would be, and he was genuinely grateful for the help. Somehow, Prussia was managing to fit everything perfectly in the suitcase, which left Romano baffled... how was he doing that?

After a few minutes, the two had managed to fill the suitcase with all of the Southern nation’s belongings and even close it without breaking a sweat. Prussia looked proud of his accomplishment, turning to the Italian with a cocky grin as if he’d just done the greatest thing in the world.

“My method worked!” he exclaimed, pointing excitedly at himself. “I knew organizing everything would be the solution, heh!” he added boastfully, “I’m so awesome, am I right?”

Hearing that, Romano rolled his eyes and muttered under his breath, “Neat freak.” Though, for the record, he did think Prussia was awesome. Then, almost without thinking, he leaned a little closer to the former nation, brushing lightly against him.

The albino froze at the touch, the excitement on his face fading and replaced by surprise. His red eyes flicked away, then back at Romano, but he didn’t say anything. Words seemed to fail him. It was strange, considering he had looked ready to babble just seconds ago. Romano decided not to overthink it and stayed silent as well, waiting until Prussia finally seemed to find his voice again and cleared his throat.

“So, now that you’re done with this,” he said, gesturing toward the packed suitcase, “what are you planning to do? You still have the whole evening before… you know, before you have to go.” his words came out awkward and jumbled, and he visibly cringed at how clumsy he sounded, which Romano found a little amusing.

The Italian thought for a moment before giving a small shrug. “I’m not sure,” he said, pausing briefly before adding, “Probably cry myself a river.”

“Why’s that?” the former nation asked, raising an eyebrow as he turned to Romano with a hint of confusion.

“Because I have to work tomorrow,” Romano replied with a frustrated sigh. “I’ll have to do a week’s worth of paperwork in one day. Ugh, I’ll probably have white hair by the time I’m done.”

“Ah,” Prussia exhaled in realization, then added quietly, “Paperwork can be fun if you...” his words faltered as soon as he noticed the small scowl Romano was giving him.

“Don’t even go there.” the Southern nation said plainly.

Prussia swallowed whatever he had been about to say and simply nodded. “Okay, sorry.” he said quickly, averting his gaze to the side.

The brunet let out another sigh and stayed still for a moment before finally pulling away from Prussia and standing up. He stretched lightly, then sat on the edge of the bed, slumping forward in a gloomy sort of way. Now that he was done with packing, his mind was back at square one, thinking about the fact that he hadn’t managed to express his feelings to the former nation, and that soon he might not see him for who knew how long. The thought deepened the dread in Romano’s chest that he had momentarily pushed aside, making it feel as if it were tearing at his heart. Ugh. Why did love have to feel so good, yet hurt so much at the same time?

Prussia stared at him for a second before getting up as well. He hesitated slightly, then sat on the bed next to him. Romano glanced at him briefly before lowering his eyes to the carpet. From the corner of his eye, he could see the ex-nation fidgeting with his hands, which was a bit odd. Romano couldn’t help but wonder why he seemed so tense all of a sudden. He didn’t have much time to think about it, however, because the German suddenly broke the silence.

“Do you miss Italy?” he asked. The question interrupted whatever thoughts were running through the Italian’s mind, making him lift his head and look at Prussia with a faint look of surprise. He blinked once, then twice, before nodding slightly, almost out of instinct.

Did he miss Italy? That was an easy question. Of course he did. Italy was his home, a part of him. How could he not miss it? But... did he want to go back now? Did he want to leave Germany, leave Prussia, just to return to Italy? That was a question he could not answer with a simple yes. Truthfully, he did not want to leave, because he knew he would miss Prussia far more than he would miss his home and the lands he represented.

“Sì,” Romano replied softly. “I do miss my country, especially Rome. It’s my heart, you know?” his words were almost a whisper, and without thinking, he brought a hand to his chest, pressing his fingers lightly into the fabric of his shirt. For a moment, his mind drifted to Rome... to the busy streets, the ancient monuments, the old restaurants, and he smiled faintly at the memories. He loved everything about the capital, even the places rarely visited by tourists. There was nothing about it that he could hate.

“I see,” the albino said with a faint hum, a small but slightly frayed grin tugging at his lips. “Then you must be thrilled to finally go back…”

At that, Romano’s expression fell, and he wrapped his arms around himself as if seeking comfort. He stayed silent for a long moment, his hazel eyes dimming slightly, before slowly shaking his head. He knew it would have been better to just agree with the former nation, but he couldn't bring himself to lie.

“No, not really.” he replied, not even trying to hide the sadness in his voice.

Prussia seemed taken aback by his words. He frowned slightly before finally rasping out in confusion, “Why not?”

Romano shrugged and kicked at the floor lightly. “I just don’t want to leave, that’s all.”

“Oh,” the former nation said, drawing out the sound in understanding. But he didn’t really look like he understood. If anything, he just seemed more confused. “Any reason why… or do you just like Germany so much now that you’d rather stay here than go back to Italy?” he tried to make a joke, but it fell flat. Romano didn't laugh... he couldn't bring himself to. Instead, he turned his sad gaze toward the Prussian, which made him falter slightly. Then Romano looked away, staring at nothing in particular, unsure of how to answer the former nation’s question.

A heavy silence settled over them. Prussia tapped his fingers nervously against the blanket, as if trying to distract himself from the sudden awkwardness in the room. South Italy, meanwhile, wished his heart would stop aching so painfully. God, why was this so hard? Who had made love so damn complicated? They were just sitting here, doing nothing, saying nothing… What was even the point? What was he doing... what were they doing?

The seconds dragged by, though Romano couldn’t have said how many. Each one stretched tighter and tighter, winding around his chest until it felt like he could barely breathe. Do something… he told himself, but it was useless. He didn’t know what. And if he did, he couldn’t find the courage to act on it.

Stupid… how stupid. Love was such a ridiculous thing. So stupid… and yet, stupidly wonderful. Who was he kidding? He couldn’t hate it, no matter how much it annoyed him. It was the one thing he’d always longed for, the one thing finally within reach, and still, he couldn’t bring himself to take it.

What if he said nothing? What if he walked away and left things with Prussia unresolved? Would he and the ex-nation still be friends? Would Prussia still look at him the same way, or would those supposed feelings for him fade away?

The thought made Romano’s skin crawl. He couldn’t let that happen. No… no, that would be unbearable. He wanted Prussia to love him, and to keep loving him, the way he loved Prussia. But for that to happen… he had to do something.

A sudden fire flared in his chest, stronger than anything he’d felt before. Before he could stop himself or even think to hesitate, the words spilled out.

“Thank you, by the way.” he said in a small murmur. Despite the quietness, Prussia heard it and suddenly stopped his nervous tapping.

“For…?” the albino asked, his voice uncertain, before suddenly brightening up with realization. “Oh, for packing,” he said aloud, waving his hands dismissively. “It’s nothing really. Like I told you before, I just enjoy organizing stuff.”

Romano shook his head. “Not for that…” he began, pausing for a moment before correcting himself. “Well, actually, thank you for that too. I think I would’ve lost my nerves if I had to do all of that alone,” he mumbled, almost to himself. Then, quieter he added, “But what I really mean is thank you… in general, for everything you’ve done for me these past few days.”

Prussia’s face slowly shifted, a flicker of surprise crossing his features as if he hadn’t expected Romano to say something like that, which was probably true.

The Italian took a shaky breath and continued. “You’ve been really kind, even though I was… mean when I first came here. And before that, too. I don’t think many people would have done that for me, or for anyone, really.” he trailed off, thinking, then whispered, “I’m not sure I’ve shown enough gratitude… but I am grateful. I’ve been grateful ever since that night you talked to me, when I… when I had that awful breakdown, and you helped me sleep.” his gaze softened, eyes locking on Prussia’s. “And I still am now. And probably always will be.”

Romano clenched his hands into fists at his sides, holding them tight before letting them fall open again. He couldn’t tell if it was nerves or the memory of those first days in Germany making him so jittery, but he kept going. “If you hadn’t stepped in, I don’t think I would’ve slept at all. I might have… I might have completely lost my mind under all that stress,” he admitted slowly. “So thank you. Thank you for what you said, and thank you for what you did.” he ran a hand through his hair, tugging slightly at the strands.

“I’m still not sure how you managed it, but you quieted the bad thoughts in my head. I don’t dwell on unnecessary things as much anymore, and I don’t put myself down the way I used to. I… I actually think highly of myself now,” he said, letting out a small, breathless laugh, almost in disbelief. It felt so good to be able to say that... and actually believe it.

“Those thoughts… I couldn’t make them stop. They ran through my mind endlessly and made me feel trapped in my own head. I used to second-guess everything, overanalyze even the simplest things, and twist everything against myself. But you…” he gestured toward the ex-nation. “You helped me calm them down. You made it possible for me to think clearly without everything turning negative. You helped me sleep properly without tossing and turning all night.”

A small smile tugged at his lips. “It’s strange to realize… just how great it feels to sleep. You don’t understand how much I’ve missed that, just being able to close my eyes without my mind racing. I never appreciated it before this,” he murmured, letting out a soft sigh. “I owe that to you… you gave me peace.”

He tilted his head slightly, pausing before continuing. “I’m not sure if you remember, but when we went hiking that day, you told me something like, ‘When you find yourself surrounded by darkness, light will follow, no matter what.’ Back then, I didn’t believe you. It felt impossible to think anything good could come when I was surrounded by so much bad,” he said, his eyes flicking down for a moment before returning to Prussia’s. “But now I do. I believe it. Because you showed me that even in the hardest times, good can still come,” he said, bringing a hand to his chest and giving a small, determined nod. “And that’s something I’ll never forget.”

Prussia stared at him in shock, his red eyes slightly widened and his mouth parted. He remained frozen for a long moment, saying nothing, before finally blinking a few times and giving his head a small shake as if trying to pull his thoughts together. Whether it worked was hard to tell because his face quickly flushed with a pinkish hue, and he raised a hand to his neck, rubbing it awkwardly as he looked away.

“I uh…” Prussia began, trailing off as he swallowed nervously. “You really don’t have to thank me.” he paused, tearing his gaze away from whatever he had been staring at and forcing himself to look at Romano. “I mean… I didn’t do much. I just… I just did what anyone would’ve done.”

At that, the Italian furrowed his brows. “Not just anyone.”

“Right, um,” the albino corrected himself, clearing his throat. “But still… I just…” he hesitated, searching for the right words, uncertain how to express his thoughts. “You really don’t have to thank me, though.” he finally said. “You’ve already done it once… actually, a couple of times, and that’s enough for me.” a shaky smile formed on his face. “Plus, you’ve been thanking me plenty just by being my… friend these past few days, and there’s no better thanks in the world than that.” his eyes softened, and the smile on his face became almost sappy.

At that, Romano couldn’t help but feel his heart break a little, and he wasn’t sure he could put it back together even if he tried. It showed in the faint downturn of his lips and the sudden tightness in his expression. He tried to hide it quickly, though he was certain he wasn’t doing a very good job.

Friend… the word was a good one, but in this moment it felt like the cruelest word Prussia could have said. Romano didn’t want to be just his friend. No, he wanted more. He wanted to be his lover, to be there for him whether he was happy or hurting, to hold his hand, hug him, and kiss that infuriating grin off his face, the same grin that was both maddening and so endearing. He wanted all of that and more. Maybe that was selfish, but Prussia supposedly wanted the same, did he not? That made them both selfish, two people who craved each other. And there was nothing wrong with that. People had the right to crave someone... to want to love someone.

However, it was wrong when both of them were too cowardly to say anything. Prussia supposedly liked him back, yet he did nothing about it. Romano could not blame him too much, since he did not know about his feelings, and the fear of rejection was everyone’s greatest enemy when it came to love. But Romano blamed himself. Between the two of them, he was the bigger coward, because he was unable to get even the simplest words out, even knowing Prussia liked him back. He had tried, he had put in effort, but it clearly wasn't enough, because if it had been, he would not have failed so many times. He called Prussia cruel, but in truth, he was the crueler one.

The Italian would have spiraled further into his thoughts if the Prussian hadn’t suddenly given him a small tap on the shoulder. The touch pulled Romano back to the present, and he turned to look at the former nation in slight bewilderment.

“But, you know, South,” Prussia said, his expression slightly conflicted, “I really hope you don’t feel indebted to me or anything like that, because that would be… well, not awesome. I wouldn’t want you thinking you’re obligated to pay me back or anything.” his voice grew quieter at the last words, as if the very thought pained him.

Hearing that, the Southern nation felt his chest tighten. Prussia was always so thoughtful… even now. How had he ever disliked him? Romano swallowed the lump in his throat and hurried to respond, not wanting the other man to misunderstand his intentions. “No, I don’t feel that way,” he said, his voice a little dry. He cleared his throat awkwardly before adding with more energy, “Don’t worry, I’m just grateful… that’s all.” he shrugged. “And there’s nothing wrong with gratitude, is there?”

At his words, the albino’s expression lightened, and the small smile from earlier returned to his lips as he tilted his head slightly. “I suppose not,” he replied, before adding with a playful lilt, “But don’t overdo it. I wouldn’t want you getting too mushy on me, heh.”

Romano couldn’t help but smile back, and before he realized it, he said, “It’s hard when you’re so nice.”

“Only for you, South.” Prussia replied, his smile turning crooked as if joking. But Romano could see past it. Prussia truly meant what he said. Despite the playful edge in his words, his eyes were soft as silk, revealing the truth no matter how hard he tried to hide it. It really was true that the eyes were the window to the soul.

Only for… me. The thought made the Southern nation’s heart beat a little faster. It was always just for him. Everything Prussia did seemed to be meant only for him, as if he were somehow worthier than anyone else. The German made him feel special, and Romano would be lying if he said it didn’t make his mind buzz with both excitement and nervousness. It was such a strange but wonderful feeling to have someone see him in such a good light and crave him, especially after he had spent so much of his life believing he wasn’t good enough for anything or anyone. Now that he knew what this feeling was, he never wanted to let it go. He was drunk on it and didn’t want to sober up, not even for a moment.

The Italian let his eyes roam over the other nation’s features, narrowing them slightly and leaning in just a little closer. The fire he had felt earlier burned hotter in his chest, spreading through him in a way that almost hurt. “You really are a nice person,” he whispered softly, almost to himself. “You’re thoughtful even when you don’t have to be. You always care, and you show it... about others… about me, even when you act all cocky and ridiculous,” he confessed slowly, letting the words melt on his tongue. He faltered briefly when he saw Prussia’s eyes widen in astonishment. His nerves prickled beneath his skin, but he exhaled and pressed on.

“You’re patient, at least with me, and annoyingly funny, and so goddamn persistent it sometimes irritates me. But despite that…” he trailed off. “Despite that… you make me feel…” he looked down at his hands, fingers twitching, unsure how to put his thoughts into words. “Good,” he finally said, shifting his gaze back to the former nation. “Good about myself… good about everything, actually,” Romano admitted.

“These past few days, I’ve been happier than I’ve been in months, and it’s all thanks to you. I… I’ve grown to…” his voice caught in his throat for a moment. He swallowed hard, his heart pounding as if it might leap from his chest. Still, Romano summoned every ounce of courage he had never managed before, and without second-guessing or hesitating, he finally let himself speak the words he hadn’t been able to say all day.

“I’ve grown to like you,” he whispered. “A lot. More than I probably should. I keep thinking about you when I shouldn’t, and I don’t even know if I’m saying this right, but… I like you. I really do.”

At first, the Italian felt terrified for admitting that. His blood ran cold, and he was sure he was shaking. But then, slowly, his fear turned into relief, and even a little excitement, as he realized—oh God—he had actually just admitted that. He had told Prussia that he liked him. He had confessed. Not in the romantic way he had originally intended, but he had still done it. He had told the former nation how he felt!

Wow!

Romano exhaled in disbelief. He felt light, almost as if he could fly. More than that, he felt alive, like he could do anything. He wanted to jump around in joy, shout his achievement to the sky, and hum the sappiest Italian songs he knew. He was just a second away from grinning when he caught sight of Prussia’s face and froze.

The ex-nation stared at him, shock etched across his features. His eyes were so wide they seemed ready to spill from their sockets. The Southern nation bit his tongue, holding his gaze, and for a long moment, they simply stared at each other. Then Prussia parted his lips as if to speak, but no sound came out. He stayed like that for a second before slowly closing his mouth. He swallowed, glanced down, and then back up at Romano, looking utterly torn....

The Southern nation felt his excitement slowly fade, his racing heart coming to an abrupt stop. A sudden knot of unease twisted in his stomach, and every breath he took felt heavy, as if the air itself had thickened around him.

Um...

What the hell was with that reaction? For someone who was supposed to like him back, Prussia didn’t look thrilled at all. He just looked… shocked. But was it a good kind of shock? A bad one? Confused? Romano couldn’t tell, and the uncertainty made him panic. A lot. And when I say a lot, I mean A LOT.

The dark-haired brunet felt like the blood had been drained from his body, and like he was one second away from fainting. Oh God. Did Prussia not like him back? But that couldn’t be possible. He was supposed to like him. But what if he didn’t? What if Romano had completely misread the signs and made a massive fool of himself? What if all the gestures, all the kindness, had been just… friendship? But they had almost kissed that one time. How could that be explained?

Ah! He didn’t know, and it was driving him insane! He needed to know. Did Prussia like him back or not? And he needed to know now, or he was going to lose it! But Prussia wasn’t saying anything. Why? WHY?! Romano couldn’t stand the silence!

Please, Prussia, speak!

The albino simply blinked, frowning slightly as if trying to gather his thoughts, but he made no effort to speak. He said nothing. Absolutely nothing, and that only made the Italian’s panic worsen.

Fuuuuuck.

Romano pressed his teeth harder into his tongue, almost drawing blood. His stomach twisted with anxiety, his hands grew clammy, and his breathing turned shallow, loud enough that he was sure Prussia could hear it. He started to regret confessing. Goddamn it. He had ruined everything, hadn’t he? Ugh. Just as Romano was about to spiral even further, he noticed Prussia’s expression shift from that nerve-racking shock into... into a gentle gaze...?

Huh? Wait. What?

Romano’s chest tightened. Was that a good sign? Or a bad one? It had to be good… right? Right?

The ex-nation’s lips parted again as if to speak, but instead of talking, he leaned in. Carefully, he closed the space between them and pressed his lips to Romano’s in the gentlest kiss the Southern nation had ever received. It was barely more than a brush of lips, hardly enough to count as a real kiss, yet it stole Romano’s breath as if it were the most precious thing he had ever been given... and honestly, it was.

He hadn’t been expecting it, but the touch melted away the anxiety coiled in his chest and replaced it with a rush of enthusiasm, sending butterflies twisting through his stomach.

Prussia was kissing him. He was actually kissing him. That meant… that meant Prussia liked him back. He really liked him back!

No way!

Now it was Romano’s turn to be shocked. He froze, wide-eyed, every nerve in his body on fire. The warmth and closeness made the world feel as if it had tilted. His mind raced, unable to keep up, and before he could even react, Prussia pulled away.

The Italian blinked, his heartbeat racing faster than ever as he looked back at Prussia. The former nation’s usually pale skin was flushed pink, and he was grinning, though his smile trembled slightly, as if he himself couldn’t believe what was happening. His eyes shone with a mix of embarrassment and joy, and he shifted restlessly on the bed, too excited to stay still.

Romano knew he probably should have said something by now. That was the normal thing to do after being kissed, but he was so overwhelmed with emotions that he couldn’t think straight or form proper sentences. So he just gawked at the other man, saying nothing. Like a complete idiot. For someone who had supposedly kissed more people than he could count, Romano was definitely screwing this up. Yikes.

The ex-nation’s eyes flicked to the side for a brief moment before returning to the brunet. He waited a little longer, but when he saw that the Italian had no intention of responding to his gesture, his grin faltered, and he began fidgeting with his hands.

“Uh,” the albino began, swallowing hard. “I didn’t read that wrong… did I?” he asked, looking at Romano with hopeful, but nervous eyes.

Romano wanted to say no. God, he needed to say no. But his mouth refused to cooperate.

Aaaaaaa.

When he didn’t answer (like a moron), the German’s face fell, and a flicker of panic crossed his features.

“Shit, I did read that wrong, didn’t I?!” he burst out, growing frantic as he ran his hands through his hair before clutching the white strands like he wanted to rip them out.

Wait.

No.

No, no, no, no.

He didn’t read that wrong! He read it right! He couldn’t have read it more right!

Ah, Romano, say something, you idiot!

The hazel-eyed man opened his mouth to speak, but he couldn’t find the strength to form any words. Fuck. Now he was starting to panic.

“Verdammt, I’m so sorry, I… I didn’t mean to—” the albino began before cutting himself off. “I mean, I did, but I shouldn’t have—” he trailed off, gripping his hair even tighter, his face straining in a way Romano had never seen before. “Fuck, I’m so sorry!”

The Italian began to shake his head slowly, alarm bells blaring in his mind.

AHHHHHH!

He needed to do something, and he needed to do it now, or everything would go downhill, and all the effort he had put into confessing would be in vain.

Without thinking, Romano shot forward, grabbing Prussia’s face with way too much force, which made the other man jolt and sputter. Then Romano crashed his lips against the Prussian’s in what was supposed to be a kiss, except he yanked him too fast and their foreheads smashed together instead. Both of them immediately recoiled, swearing loudly as they clutched their heads in pain.

Holy fuck. That was embarrassing. So embarrassing.

Romano felt his face heat up. He couldn’t believe he had messed that up so badly. Him! He was supposed to be good at this kissing stuff! He was Italian! How could he have ruined a kiss like that? Good God, he wanted to disappear. He was never going to live this down.

“You…” the Italian suddenly heard Prussia say, and he snapped his gaze toward him. “You kissed me back...?” the ex-nation asked, his face a mix of disbelief and relief as he dropped his hands from his head and looked at Romano with bright, gleaming eyes.

Augh. Romano wanted to smother himself with a pillow. No, he hadn’t kissed him back. He wished he had. That hadn’t been a kiss. It had been a… a failed kiss! A complete disaster of a kiss!

The Southern nation nodded slowly, pressing his face into his hands in embarrassment. After a brief pause, Prussia spoke quietly, “So… that means I didn’t read that wrong? You really do like me… in that way?”

Romano nodded once more. Before he knew it, he felt the bed shift slightly as Prussia inched closer. The former nation’s hands reached for his own, gently peeling them away from his face. The touch made Romano’s face burn even hotter, but he didn’t resist. He let Prussia take his hands and squeeze them softly. Slowly, the Southern nation lifted his gaze to meet the red eyes burning into him and saw Prussia smiling gently.

“For the record, I like you too,” the albino confessed. Romano had to hold his breath for a second. Hearing his brother say that Prussia liked him was one thing, but hearing Prussia admit it himself was something else entirely. It made the Italian melt on the spot. “I’ve actually… always kind of liked you.” the ex-nation added, his smile turning a little sheepish.

At that, the hazel-eyed man blinked in surprise. “Always?” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

“Uh, yeah, hah,” Prussia said, letting out a small laugh. “At first, it was just a normal kind of like, since I really liked your country and its history, if that makes sense. But over the years, after I started seeing you more and getting to know you… well, as much as you would let me back then, it kind of turned into something more. Especially these past few days we’ve spent together, it’s grown even more… pronounced, and um…” he trailed off for a moment, looking away before flicking his gaze back to Romano, a bit nervous. “Am I doing this right?” he asked, fingers twitching against the Southern nation's hands. “I’m really not that good with this kind of stuff…”

At that, Romano’s expression softened, the earlier embarrassment fading and giving way to fondness. Prussia was so ridiculously sweet.

“You’re doing fine,” the brunet finally said, a small smile tugging at his lips. “More than fine, actually.” he added, before slowly withdrawing his hands from the German's. Prussia looked a little confused, but that faded when Romano gently cupped his face. His red eyes shifted from Romano’s gaze to his lips for a brief moment, seemingly thinking the same thing the Italian was, before Romano slowly leaned in, careful not to bump their foreheads again, until their lips met in a proper kiss.

The Southern nation couldn’t explain it, but kissing Prussia felt otherworldly. He hadn’t realized how much he wanted it until he was finally doing it. Prussia’s lips were slightly chapped yet surprisingly soft, and he tasted faintly of the beer he had drunk at lunch. Romano usually hated beer because it was cheap and bitter, but on Prussia the flavor was strangely intoxicating, making him crave it even more. He tilted his head slightly, deepening the simple press of lips into a more intense kiss.

For a moment, the albino seemed to tense, unsure of how to respond. Then, with a sharp inhale, he melted into the kiss. He raised a hand to clasp one of Romano’s before bringing the other to the back of the Italian’s head, pulling him just a little closer as his fingers tangled in his dark strands.

Romano almost sighed at the warmth of Prussia’s touch. His skin tingled and his heart fluttered at every caress. Slowly, he let his free hand trace the albino’s face, down his jaw, along his neck, threading through the hair at the nape before grazing his shoulder and the fabric of his shirt. He wanted to touch every inch of him, to stay as close as possible. Prussia’s grip on his hand tightened briefly before relaxing, allowing his fingers to slide down the Italian’s wrist and along his arm, finally cupping his cheek, the contact sending a fire through Romano's skin that was almost too much to bear.

They parted slightly, lips inches apart, each taking a shallow breath before closing the gap again. This time, the kiss intensified, turning faintly open-mouthed as they clutched at each other more tightly. Romano’s hand cupped the former nation’s head, while Prussia’s hands mirrored the gesture on his face, thumbs brushing gently against his cheeks.

After what felt like an eternity, they broke apart, panting as they tried to catch their breath. Romano’s vision was hazy, and he blinked a few times to clear the daze before focusing on Prussia. But the Prussian looked even more disoriented. His red eyes were glazed, pupils dilated, his face flushed, and he stared at Romano as though he were the only thing in the room.

“Oh wow.” Prussia whispered, his voice soft yet filled with so much amazement it seemed impossibly loud.

South Italy couldn’t help but let out a small laugh at the other man’s reaction. “That good?” he asked, tilting his head slightly as he watched the German perk up and nod rapidly.

“Yes, that was—” Prussia began, a little too loudly, then cut himself off and lowered his voice, realizing it probably wasn’t the best moment to be so hyper. “I mean… I’ve been wanting to do that for so long…” he admitted slowly. “It felt… so much better than I ever imagined.” his lips curved into a shy smile as he quickly looked away. “You, uh… do you think we could do that again?” he asked, his face flushing even more. “I mean, only if you want, of course… it’s not necessary, hah!” he stumbled over his words. “It just… that felt really nice and I just want to—ah, that sounds dumb… I mean, I kinda wish to… uh, that also sounds dumb…” he winced, growing frustrated. “This was probably a stupid thing to ask. Damn it, why do I suck at this? Just ignore—”

Before he could finish, Romano leaned in and pressed his lips to his for a brief second, cutting off his nervous ramble. When he pulled back, he gave the albino a faint, reassuring smile. “Okay,” he said softly. “Let’s do that again.”

At that, Prussia’s features softened, the nervous tension in his expression melting away. “…Okay.” he murmured quietly. With a touch of hesitation, he moved forward, closing the distance between them once more.

Initially, the kiss was gentle and slow, much like their first, but it quickly deepened into something hungrier. They held each other tight, desperate, kissing as if they had been starving for too long, until at last they broke apart, breathless, their chests heaving for air.

Prussia licked his lips and, after a few seconds, asked as if spellbound, “…Again?” Romano let out a small, amused huff and nodded. The albino immediately caught his lips once more, and they fell into a third kiss, dizzying and thrilling, leaving their hearts racing. When they finally separated, Prussia instinctively leaned closer, his lips brushing against Romano’s, their breaths mingling. “…Again?” he whispered.

Instead of answering, the Italian simply kissed him again, earning a content sigh from the ex-nation. They had no idea how long they had stayed like that, lost in each other, but it had likely been a long time. By the time they finally pulled back (for real this time), both were exhausted. Though, Romano wouldn’t have had it any other way, and judging by the warm look on Prussia’s face, neither would he.

Before the Italian could form a single coherent thought, Prussia suddenly pulled him into a crushing hug. Romano stiffened at the suddenness, then slowly returned the embrace. Silence stretched between them for a long moment until, in a voice so small it was barely audible, Prussia murmured, “I think I love you…”

South Italy froze.

Love...

Prussia loved him.

He really did love him. Just as Romano loved him back.

Oh. Oh wow.

He hadn’t expected to hear this now. He had been prepared for the usual “I like you” but not for this. And yet, he couldn’t say he was disappointed. No. He was the opposite of disappointed. He was ecstatic. He had longed for this for so long, and he could hardly believe he finally had it. He had love, not just any love, but the romantic kind!

The realization made the Southern nation’s breath catch in his throat. His eyes widened, and he slowly pulled back just enough to see Prussia’s face. The former nation looked as if he’d only just realized what he’d said, his features full of shock, before breaking into a skittish grin.

“Uh, too early…?” the German asked hesitantly.

Romano blinked at him, still stunned, then shook his head slowly, pulling himself out of the daze. A soft smile curved across his lips. “No,” he mumbled. “Too late.” With that, he pulled the German back into the hug, burying his face against his shoulder.

Oh, how he loved him.

They remained like that for a while, hearts beating together in rhythm. When they finally separated both were looking happier than they had ever been, especially Prussia. The former nation’s face was lit up in a way Romano had never seen before. His eyes shone, a smile splitting his face wide, as he practically bounced in place, fists pumping the air with unrestrained excitement.

“God, I’m so happy!” he exclaimed, running a hand through his hair and letting out a laugh, unable to contain himself. “You have no idea!” he added just as excitedly, though a thoughtful look suddenly crossed his face and he shook his head slightly. “Actually, you probably do have some idea, since you must be just as happy as I am, right?” he said, gesturing toward Romano with enthusiastic motions. “There’s no way you’re not completely overjoyed, especially after making out with the awesome me!” he exclaimed, pointing to himself proudly before tilting his head a little. “Right, right?”

South Italy couldn’t help but let out a soft snort of amusement. “Of course I’m happy, you idiot,” he said. “How could I not be? I’m the one who poured out my heart to you first,” he pointed out, gesturing between them. “Isn’t that proof enough that I wanted this?”

Prussia laughed in response, and before Romano could reply, he reached down and gently took one of the Southern nation’s hands in his own, looking at him with a mix of fondness and sheepishness.

“You know… I actually tried to tell you I liked you a couple of times today.” the albino admitted, his words making Romano’s mind go blank for a moment.

Huh.

HUH??!!

Prussia had tried to tell him that he… he liked him?! Today?! What?! When did he even…? How had Romano not realized?!

“Wait, what?!” the Italian exclaimed, staring at him like he’d just spoken nonsense.

The ex-nation shrugged slightly. “It’s true, I did,” he said, though his face quickly grew awkward and he seemed to struggle not to look away. “But… the funny thing is,” he trailed off, shaking his head. “Well, it’s not really funny. It’s more sad than anything, but… whatever,” he added with a small, uneasy laugh before clearing his throat.

“Every single time I tried to tell you I liked you, something would always get in the way. Someone would interrupt me, or something would happen, and then I’d chicken out. Every single time…” he winced slightly at the memory, eyes flicking down to their joined hands as he squeezed Romano’s lightly before looking back at him.

“Though, I think it was less about interruptions and more about me being a coward. I had plenty of chances to tell you, but I didn’t, because I wasn’t sure if you liked me back…” he sighed, then smiled apologetically. “Real cowardly of me… sorry about that. I should’ve been braver and not made you do all the hard work of confessing.” his smile turned slightly impressed. “Though I have to give it to you—you’re really brave for saying all of that yourself. But I suppose it doesn’t faze you, since you are the second country of passion after France.”

Romano’s mouth hung open, his eyebrows raised in surprise. “No way…” he rasped, earning a confused look from Prussia. “I mean, yes, the country stuff is true,” he added quickly, then more quietly, “But I just can’t believe it. I… I also tried to confess to you today, multiple times, but every single time something interrupted me, and I never got the chance either.”

“Wait, really?” the former nation asked, frowning in surprise.

Romano nodded fiercely. “Yeah!” he exclaimed. “I was really upset about that. Before you came in here, I thought I’d never get the chance to say anything. I figured I’d have to leave tomorrow and let everything stay unresolved, and that… honestly, it made me feel awful,” he admitted, his voice dropping slightly at the last words before he swallowed and continued.

“I honestly don’t even know where I got the courage earlier to say all of that...” he added, disbelief flickering across his features for a moment before he focused back on the white-haired man.

“So, I’m not much braver than you… I’m just as much of a coward,” he confessed, eyes dropping. “Normally, things like this wouldn’t faze me, but they do if I have really strong feelings for someone,” he paused, glancing back at the German who was watching him with awe. “And I have really strong feelings for you, you know,” he said softly. “I didn’t say this earlier, but… I think I love you too.”

The confession made the Prussian’s face turn crimson, leaving him momentarily speechless. Finally, he muttered, “Ah, you’re gonna kill me with that…” as he raised his free hand to cover his face, which only made the Italian smile in amusement.

“Am I now?” Romano teased, earning a groan from the other nation.

“Yes, I’m going to be a dead man at your hands, South...!” Prussia replied, making Romano stifle a laugh.

“I don’t see any problem with that.” he said, prompting a small huff from Prussia.

“I do,” the albino said flatly, dropping his hand and staring at Romano with a small frown that quickly softened into a smile, as he couldn’t stay mad at him even if he tried. “Though I have to say, that’s one hell of a coincidence... How did we both try to confess to each other, fail, and not even notice?”

Romano thought for a second, then shrugged. “I seriously don’t know. I guess we’re both just really oblivious.”

“Yeah, I guess so too.” the German agreed.

It was quiet between them for a long moment before Romano spoke again, his face twisting into a slight wince. “I’m realizing now that I worried all day for nothing,” he said with a sigh. “I could’ve spared myself all that stress if we’d just said something sooner.”

Prussia let out a small laugh. “Me too. I worried so much as well,” he confessed. “Besides being oblivious, we’re also really stupid.”

The dark-haired brunet rolled his eyes but gave a reluctant nod. “I wish I could disagree.”

Hearing that, the albino lifted their joined hands, holding them between them with a giddy expression. “Well, at least we’re stupid together!”

That simple line made Romano’s heart squeeze almost painfully, warmth flooding his chest. Yes… they were stupid together… they were together. Oh, how nicely that sounded.

“Hey, wait a second,” Prussia suddenly exclaimed. “Speaking of together… does this mean we’re, like… together now?” he asked, hope lighting his expression. “In a relationship?”

At that, the Southern nation blinked, then simply tilted his head to the side. “What do you think?”

The white-haired man froze for a moment, then brightened up, practically radiating sparkles. “Yes! I think yes!” he exclaimed, and Romano simply smiled back at him.

“Then there’s your answer.”

Prussia looked overjoyed at his words, struggling to contain the urge to jump around and shout at the top of his lungs just how happy he was. He pumped a fist in the air and half-whispered a “Yes!” under his breath before letting go of Romano’s hand and placing it gently on his cheek. “Can I kiss you again?” he asked eagerly. “Can I? Can I?”

At that, the Italian huffed. “You don’t have to ask,” he said, which only made the ex-nation’s excitement grow even more. Prussia leaned in and pressed his lips to Romano’s in a quick, tender kiss before pulling back and grinning. “Man, I’ll never get enough of this,” he said. Then he kissed Romano again, this time longer, before pulling back once more, looking extremely content.

The Italian was about to steal a kiss from the former nation himself, but before he could, Prussia suddenly leapt to his feet, startling the dark-haired brunet. Romano barely had time to process it before Prussia grabbed his hands, pulled him up as well, and then started dragging him toward the door.

“Hey, what are you—” the Southern nation began, but Prussia cut him off.

“We have to tell our brothers the awesome news!” he shouted, yanking the door open and pulling them into the hallway. “Imagine their faces! They're going to be so surprised!” he paused for a moment, thinking, then added with a laugh, “Well, maybe ‘surprised’ isn’t exactly the right word. I don’t know about little Italy, but West has gotten annoyed with us dancing around this for so long. He’ll be more relieved than surprised, I think!”

The albino continued dragging Romano down the hall, grinning from ear to ear. Romano couldn’t help but agree. Veneziano would probably be more relieved than shocked to see that they had finally figured things out.

Finally, Prussia flung open the door to Germany’s and Veneziano’s room. The two younger nations, who had been cuddling in bed, practically jumped out of their skins at the sudden intrusion.

“Gross, guys, get a room.” the former nation said, earning a thoroughly displeased look from the younger German.

“This is our room.” Germany stated, unamused, while Veneziano just looked at Prussia with a confused expression.

“Ah, right,” Prussia mused, snickering before waving a dismissive hand. “Eh, whatever!” he said, letting go of Romano and rushing inside the room. He flipped on the lights, which had been off for some reason, flooding the dark room with brightness and making the couple squint in discomfort.

“Ow, my eyes…” North Italy complained, pressing his palms against his eyes to shield them from the blinding light.

“Bruder, what the hell?!” Germany exclaimed, shooting Prussia a deep glare. Prussia, of course, ignored it, as usual, since that was exactly what he liked to do when his brother got annoyed over trivial things, like being interrupted during some private time with his lover. With a flourish, he propped a foot onto the bed, striking a dramatic, knightly pose.

“You guys need to stop being so sour because I have some killer news that will leave you in total shock! You might even need days to recover!” the ex-nation exclaimed, earning a puzzled look from the younger Italian and a skeptical one from Germany.

“What news?” the blond asked, raising an eyebrow.

Prussia grinned even wider, pointing a thumb at himself. “Ahem, me, the awesome Prussia, is from now on and forever dating the awesome South Italy!” he declared, gesturing toward the older Italian still standing in the doorway. Romano had a hand over his mouth, trying to hide the blush creeping across his cheeks, though it was obvious he was thoroughly embarrassed.

Upon hearing the older German’s words, both Germany and Veneziano’s expressions twisted in shock. The couple stayed silent for a few seconds, their eyes flicking between the Southern nation and Prussia, until Veneziano finally broke the silence.

“HUH?!” the younger Italian exclaimed, eyes wide and mouth agape as if it were about to fall off.

At that, Prussia puffed out his chest. “Yeah, that’s right,” he said with pride. “Romano and I are a couple! The best one out there, too!” to emphasize his point, he walked over to Romano and grabbed his hand, raising their intertwined hands into the air as if they had just won a competition and were expecting praise and applause.

The younger nations’ faces twisted into even greater shock. Veneziano shook his head, trying to process it, then turned his gaze to the older Italian. “Is this true, fratello…?” he asked, as if he could hardly believe it. When Romano nodded quickly, his face still flushed with embarrassment, Veneziano’s shock instantly melted into pure joy. A bright grin split his face, stars practically lighting up his eyes.

The light-haired brunet leapt out of bed in a single jump and rushed toward the two older nations. In one swift motion, he bounced onto Romano, wrapping him in a tight hug. The impact sent both of them staggering into the hallway and crashing to the floor with a loud thud, forcing Prussia to release Romano’s hand to avoid falling himself.

The albino glanced down at the two halves of Italy sprawled on the floor and winced, that looked like it hurt.

Romano groaned and pushed at his brother. “Mio Dio, Veneziano…” he rasped in a strained voice. “I think I just broke my back because of you.”

Veneziano, however, didn’t seem the least bit guilty for practically smashing Romano into the floor. No, he was too excited and probably hadn’t even registered what Romano had just said. He simply tightened his hug until the Southern nation felt like he could barely breathe.

“Oh, fratello, I’m so happy for you!” the Northern nation exclaimed. “I can’t believe you actually did it!” he laughed in disbelief before suddenly pushing himself off the older man and looking down at him with a puzzled expression. “You did do it, right?” he asked, raising an eyebrow and tilting his head. Romano nodded slightly in response, which made Veneziano brighten up even more.

“You did! Ah, I’m so happy!” he shouted before lunging back down to engulf Romano in a suffocating hug, making the Southern nation practically wheeze. “I was so sure you weren’t going to do anything in the end, and that made me so worried, and you know how worried being worried about you makes me!” he practically shook Romano as he spoke.

“I was actually talking to Germany earlier about this, and he told me that Prussia was in the same situation. Honestly, I kinda expected it already… Anyway! We were both trying to figure out ways to help you guys!” Veneziano’s words spilled out so fast that Romano could barely keep up.

“Though, we were both in a huge dilemma about how exactly to help without just spilling everything, because that would be messy and not cool. But you did it! You solved our dilemma by taking matters into your own hands and finally confessing!” he almost cried out in joy, tightening his embrace even more, leaving Romano gasping for air.

“Veneziano—God damn it! You’re killing me…!” the Southern nation wheezed, coughing as he clawed at his brother, desperately trying to push him off.

Upon hearing his words, the younger nation immediately released him and leapt to his feet with a loud gasp. “Ah! I’m so sorry, fratello!” he exclaimed, panicked, before crouching down and carefully helping Romano sit up straight. The sudden movement made the dark-haired brunet feel a little dizzy. “I didn’t mean to strangle you,” Veneziano added, his expression twisting with worry. “Are you okay?”

South Italy brought a hand to his head to clear his spinning vision, then dragged it down to rub at his eyes before lowering it and looking at his younger sibling with a small frown. “What do you think? You just slammed me into the damn floor!” he exclaimed, earning an apologetic smile from Veneziano.

“I’m really sorry, Romano…” he began, fidgeting slightly. “I’m just really happy that you and Prussia sorted things out, that’s all,” he confessed. “I could see how much this whole thing was paining you… and you know I hate to see you suffering.”

Hearing that, the frown on Romano’s face softened and he let out a long sigh. “I know…” he mumbled before pointing at Veneziano. “I’m grateful for your concern… but next time you’re excited, try not to slam me into the floor. Just hug me normally. I think I’m going to have bruises because of this.” he rolled a shoulder and winced to emphasize his point.

“Okay, fratello, I will! I promise!” the Northern nation said quickly, nodding with determination before grabbing Romano’s hands. “Here, as an apology, let me help you up!” he hopped to his feet, tugging the older man along. Romano nearly stumbled but managed to stay upright by clutching Veneziano’s hands tightly.

“Oh, fratello, I still can’t believe this is real!” North Italy burst out, bouncing on his feet with excitement. “It’s been so long since I’ve seen you happy like this in a relationship.” his smile faltered for a moment. “Which breaks my heart, because you deserve to be happy and have someone who loves you, and who you love back…”

Then, just as quickly, he lit up again, his grin stretching wide. “But now you’ve got Prussia, and you’re in love, so it’s perfect!” he threw his arms around Romano, this time hugging him more gently, careful not to send them both tumbling down once more.

Prussia watched the two Italians with mild amusement, finding it funny how overjoyed Veneziano was about him and Romano getting together. Not that he could blame him. He was just as thrilled, if not more. After all, he was the one actually dating Romano. What more could a man ask for? He’d hit the jackpot!

Just as that thought crossed his mind, he noticed his brother suddenly standing beside him, which startled him for a moment. Quickly regaining his composure, Prussia flashed him a bright smile. Germany let out a sigh in response, but the faint curve of his lips gave him away. He was happy for him!

“Congratulations, bruder,” Germany said, giving his shoulder a few pats. “I’m very happy for you. I’m glad you finally managed to say what you needed to say to Romano, and that everything turned out well.” he gave a firm nod before adding more softly, “I knew it would.”

Upon hearing his younger sibling’s words, the albino let out a heartfelt laugh. “Aw, thanks so much, West,” he exclaimed, gesturing toward Germany. “It’s rare for you to congratulate me like this, so I’ll be cherishing those words for the next few years!” he said, earning an eye roll from the blond.

“This is something that’s actually worthy of praise, unlike the reckless things you usually do,” Germany remarked before adding as an afterthought, “Of course, I’m not talking about your nation work. You handle that well, and I already thank you enough for it.”

At that, the white-haired man let out a snicker and shook his head. “Man, you really know how to bring a guy down.” he joked.

“I didn’t mean that in a bad way,” the younger German said quickly. “You just have a tendency to make rash decisions that usually lead to… less than favorable outcomes.”

“I know, I know,” the red-eyed man reassured. “I’m just messing with you. Don’t go all frowny on me now, not while I’m this happy.” he pointed at himself and repeated with excitement, “I’m literally so happy, can you believe it? I can’t stop smiling. This has got to be one of the best days of my life!”

Germany gave a small nod. “Yes, I believe you,” he said, blue eyes softening. “I really do.” he paused, then added more quietly, “It truly is a happy moment for you. I’m glad you finally found someone.” his mouth curved into a rare lopsided smile. “It was about time, honestly. I was starting to get a little annoyed with all the sulking you did every day over being lonely.”

Prussia gasped. “Hey, I wasn’t sulking! Sulking is un-awesome, and I am awesome, so that’s not something I’d ever do!” he exclaimed, crossing his arms and looking away with a small pout. “Besides, I wasn’t lonely… I was just…” he trailed off.

Truth be told, his younger sibling was right. Over the past few years, Prussia had developed a habit of… well, not sulking, but perhaps brooding over the fact that he was single. It was hard not to. Every time he attended events, everyone else seemed happy with their partners, while he was always alone. It was difficult, and he had to admit that, yeah, he had felt lonely for a long time.

But that wasn’t a problem anymore! Because now he was with Romano! The most awesome nation after himself. The thought eased the frown from his face, and he let out a small sigh before shrugging. “Okay, fine, I guess you’re a bit right,” he admitted, then perked up again. “But that’s all in the past now. I’ve got no reason to feel lonely anymore, because I’m dating Romano!”

“Yeah, that’s true,” Germany agreed. “I really am happy for you.” his expression grew a little nostalgic. “This actually reminds me of when I got together with Italy—” he paused, then corrected himself. “North Italy, I mean. I was just as happy then as you are now.”

“Oh, yeah, I remember,” Prussia said, recalling the memory of his brother breaking the news to him. “You were all smiles back then, which was a shocker, since before that you were always so grumpy.”

“Ja… well, Italy brought something into my life I didn’t even know I was missing until I met him.” Germany said, letting out a quiet breath that was almost a chuckle. “I suppose Romano has done the same for you.”

“He really has…” the albino agreed. His eyes flicked toward the older Italian for a moment, watching as he spoke with Veneziano. The younger nation practically spun around him, all bright expressions and animated hand gestures, while Romano wore that sweet smile of his. Prussia couldn’t help but feel absolutely smitten at the sight.

When he turned his attention back to his sibling, Germany was giving him a knowing look. Then, to the albino’s surprise, his younger brother suddenly pulled him into a hug. Prussia couldn’t even remember the last time Germany had embraced him, and the gesture only lifted his spirits higher than they already were. He returned it gladly, and when they pulled apart, he couldn’t resist ruffling Germany’s hair. The blond grumbled under his breath and swatted at his hands in mild annoyance, which simply made Prussia chuckle.

Just then, maybe not even a second later, Veneziano appeared before them, practically glowing with excitement, Romano a step behind him.

“Ah, this is so exciting!” the Northern nation exclaimed, clasping his hands together and looking at the albino with sparkling eyes. “I’m beyond thrilled that you and mio fratello are together! Like… a couple!” he bounced on his feet, barely able to contain himself. “Aren’t you excited? You must be excited, right? You’re literally dating your brother’s boyfriend’s brother!” he paused, thinking for a moment, then burst out laughing. “Wow… that sounds so weird, pfft!”

The ex-nation blinked at him, then smiled and gave a quick nod. “Yup, you bet, Little Italy. I’m as excited as I can get!”

Veneziano’s face lit up even more, like he was one second away from exploding into a bunch of sparkles.

“This calls for a celebration!” Veneziano cheered, climbing onto the bed and raising his hands high in the air. “We need to celebrate this important moment!” he repeated, then began jumping up and down, sending several pillows tumbling to the floor.

Germany quickly moved to pick them up, scolding the Northern nation for being careless. Veneziano, however, didn’t seem to hear a word. He leapt down, grabbed Germany’s hands, and dragged him around the room, causing the pillows to fall again, all the while exclaiming how wonderful the day was and how happy he felt.

Prussia stifled a laugh, but he wasn’t the only one. Romano, now standing beside him, did the same, covering his mouth with his hand. When their eyes met, the Italian looked on the verge of bursting out laughing, his cheeks twitching as he struggled to hold it back. Quickly, he turned his head away and waved his free hand in a shooing gesture, as if telling Prussia to stop staring at him before he lost it.

The ex-nation found the reaction both funny and ridiculously endearing, but he didn’t get to enjoy it for long. At that moment, Veneziano finally released Germany from his overenthusiastic grip and skipped over to the new couple.

“Romano!” he chirped. “Come downstairs with me to pick out a wine bottle!” he grabbed the older Italian by the arm, eyes shining. “I’ve been gifting Germany lots of wine lately, but he never opens it. He keeps saying it has to be saved for an important occasion.” Veneziano pouted for a moment, then perked right back up. “But this is a very important occasion, so we can totally open one to celebrate!” he nodded firmly, tugging lightly at Romano’s arm. “Come on, come on, fratello!”

The Southern nation looked like he wanted to argue, his eyes flicking between his brother and Prussia. But after a moment, he rolled his eyes and muttered a quiet, “Bene.” before allowing Veneziano to drag him out of the room and down the stairs.

Prussia watched the Italians disappear, then cupped a hand around his mouth and called out after them. “Hey, wait up! I wanna pick a wine bottle too!” he turned back to his younger brother, who looked a little dizzy from all the tugging and spinning Veneziano had put him through. “I didn’t know we had wine,” the former nation said. “Why didn’t you tell me little Italy sent you good alcohol?”

Germany simply shrugged. “I thought it was obvious he sent me things,” he replied, tilting his head slightly. “And besides, we have a wine cabinet. Why would we have a wine cabinet if not to store wine in it?”

“Good point,” the albino remarked before nudging him forward. “Anyway, now that that’s cleared up, let’s go downstairs too, because I, for one, want to do what little Italy said and celebrate my and Romano’s super awesome relationship!”

“Wait, let me fix the bed first!” the blond protested. He stepped away from the older man, went over to the bed, and gave the blanket a few sharp shakes until it lay neat again.

The ex-nation groaned but didn’t complain. He quickly picked the pillows off the floor, tossed them back on the bed, then grabbed his brother and dragged him downstairs. There, the two halves of Italy were lightly bickering over whether they should drink red or white wine. In the end, Germany relented and told them to open both bottles so neither would be upset. Veneziano thought that was a wonderful idea.

So that’s what they did. They opened both bottles and celebrated as if there were no tomorrow… well, as best they could, since there were only four of them, which didn’t exactly make for a party crowd.

They clinked glasses and toasted to love and all the good things in life. Then Veneziano eagerly asked the new couple how they had gotten together. Of course, Prussia went all in and explained everything in too much detail, much to Veneziano’s delight and Romano’s embarrassment. After that, Veneziano talked about how he and Germany had gotten together, comparing their story with Prussia and Romano’s, and said that they had all been extremely awkward at first, which everyone agreed on.

The four of them kept talking, first about past events, then about completely random topics that had nothing to do with anything. By the time both bottles of wine were half empty, they were all pleasantly tipsy. Since midnight was approaching and they all had to wake up early the next day (Prussia and Germany included, as they planned to take the Italians to the airport) they decided to cut the celebration short and head to bed.

Prussia stayed up a little longer to tidy the place, and Romano chose to stay and help him. When they were finished, Prussia walked with him upstairs, offering the Southern nation a small smile as he stepped over the threshold of his room.

“So, I guess this is where we part ways, huh?” the former nation said, leaning against the doorway.

Romano turned slowly, blinking at him before frowning and shaking his head. “No… we’ve been staying together every night, and now that we’re actually a couple you want me to stay alone?”

The albino’s eyes widened and he rushed to correct himself, stumbling over his words. “No! That’s not what I meant, I just—well, I thought maybe you… uh—” he gestured helplessly with his hands before letting out a sigh. “Actually, I don’t even know what I was thinking. Forget I said anything.”

Romano’s frown softened. He looked as if he were biting back a smile, but then a hint of sadness flickered across his face, pulling it away. For a long moment, he said nothing, his hazel eyes drifting downward before lifting to meet Prussia’s. In the dim light, the green in them was faint, leaving them looking more earthy. After a moment’s hesitation, Romano stepped closer and gently took the albino’s hand in both of his.

“Please stay with me,” he whispered. “It’s our last night together. I don’t want to part with you yet. I’ll have to tomorrow anyway, and…” his voice faltered as he squeezed Prussia’s hand tighter. “I don’t want to rush it. I want to spend these last few hours by your side.”

The ex-nation froze, caught off guard by the other’s words. He really shouldn’t have been surprised, especially after what Romano had just said (and considering he’d been asking him to stay with him every night for the past week). Still, it felt strange to have someone want his company so much, yet it was also nice… really nice.

“I want that too,” the albino admitted softly. “A hell of a lot. I don’t know why I said that earlier.”

Romano smiled faintly before tugging him into the room. Prussia reached back to close the door, then let the Italian guide him to the bed, where Romano urged him gently onto it before settling beside him. The former nation rolled onto his side to find Romano already facing him, their hands still intertwined on the blanket. Even half-hidden in the darkness, the Southern nation’s hazel eyes met his, and Prussia felt himself getting lost in them the way he always did.

“This is awesome.” the ex-nation murmured after a while, bringing their joined hands closer to himself. Without breaking eye contact, he pressed a gentle kiss to the back of Romano’s hand.

The Italian’s face twisted in surprise, his lips parting slightly. Prussia found the reaction impossibly cute, and a quiet chuckle slipped from him. If it weren’t so dark, he thought, I’d probably see him blushing right now. The thought alone made his chest feel warm.

Romano finally exhaled and pressed his cheek harder into the pillow. “You’re such a sap...” he muttered, his voice muffled against the fabric.

“Yeah? Well, you’re one too, so that makes two of us.” the albino replied.

Romano buried his face deeper into the pillow, mumbling under his breath, though the corners of his mouth still curved upward.

It was quiet between them for a moment, the only sounds being their breathing and the faint rustle of sheets as they shifted unconsciously closer.

“You know…” the German suddenly said. “this is the first time we’ve actually shared a bed,” he pointed out. “We’ve been sleeping in the same room for days, but never the same bed. Kind of funny, isn’t it?”

Romano thought for a moment before humming. “Yeah, you’re right,” he admitted, then muttered, “You should’ve gotten in bed with me sooner. You probably already have back problems from sleeping on the most uncomfortable things. Seriously, you slept on the floor just yesterday.” he shook his head disapprovingly.

“Well, that’s because I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.” Prussia responded.

“You wouldn’t have made me uncomfortable,” the Italian remarked, pointing at the albino with his free hand. “You’re too nice, you know that?” he gave him a small nudge on the shoulder. “You need to be meaner.”

“To you?” Prussia repeated, half-amused, half-incredulous. “Never. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to be mean to you, older Italy.” his voice softened. “I like you too much.”

The Italian’s eyes gleamed at that. He lowered his gaze, seeming to think of what to say, then dismissed the thought. Instead, he reached up, cupped Prussia’s cheek, and leaned in to press a soft kiss against his jaw. The spot tingled under the touch, and when Romano pulled back, he threaded his fingers slowly through the former nation's white hair.

“I think you’re the first person to ever say that to me…” he murmured slowly.

Prussia melted at the gesture. “Then that makes me the only smart one to tell you so.”

The Southern nation’s eyes softened, and before Prussia realized it, Romano let go of his hand and brought it to the back of his head, gently pulling him closer until the German’s ear rested against his chest, where he could hear the steady beat of his heart. Prussia hesitated for a moment before slipping an arm around him, holding him just as tightly. It felt… good. He hadn’t been this close to someone in a long time, and the warmth of it left him feeling incredibly happy.

The albino sighed contentedly, letting himself relax as the steady rhythm of Romano’s heartbeat lulled him toward sleep. He was just beginning to drift off when the Italian's voice broke the silence.

“Hey, Prussia?”

“Hm?” the albino replied, half-conscious.

“I just realized something.”

“What?” Prussia asked, fighting to stay awake.

The brunet was quiet for a moment before speaking. “We’re together now, and I’m really happy about that, but… I don’t even know what your favorite color is,” he admitted softly. “I feel like I should, but I don’t, because I never put in the effort to remember…” his voice carried a hint of sadness.

“Oh,” the Prussian said simply. After a moment’s thought, he let out a short laugh. “You’re seriously worrying about that?”

At that, Romano frowned. “Yes…! How could I not? If we’re supposed to be a couple, then I should know the things you like. I mean, I know the basic stuff, and more recently I found out you like collecting things from your years of living and that you like gaming, but that’s about it,” he mumbled. “And it sucks, because you always seem to know what I like, but I don’t even know your favorite color... I bet you know mine, though.”

“Of course I do,” Prussia said immediately, smug despite his sleepiness. “It’s green, right?”

Romano groaned. “Ugh, you do know, damn it…”

“Little Italy told me once. He said you loved the flora in Campania, all that green nature and stuff… and it stuck with me.”

“You remembered that so vividly?” Romano asked, a hint of disbelief in his voice.

“Ja, because it was important to me.” the albino replied, which earned another groan from Romano.

“I can't believe it...” the Italian muttered.

“What can’t you believe?”

“That you remember all this stuff, and I barely know anything about you…!” Romano exclaimed.

“That’s an exaggeration,” Prussia pointed out. “We’ve known each other for years. You know things about me. Maybe not in great detail, but you do.”

“Well… okay, yes, you’re right, but still!” Romano complained. He paused for a moment before adding, “What else do you know about me?”

The German grinned at that. “Well,” he started. “You like cooking, painting, gardening, singing, and traveling, but only to places you actually like, not just anywhere. You like reading. And you like parties, but you prefer quiet places over loud ones—”

“Okay, okay, that’s enough!” the Southern nation cut him off, flustered.

“I can go on, you know.” Prussia said, amused.

“I’d rather you didn’t,” the dark-haired brunet mumbled. “It’d just make me feel worse. I can barely think of three things about you…”

Prussia’s grin softened. “You really shouldn’t feel bad about that. I don’t care. As long as I’m with you, that’s all that matters.”

“Well, I care.” Romano said stubbornly.

That made the ex-nation’s heart swell, and he hugged Romano tighter before speaking. “Alright then… my favorite color’s yellow,” he admitted, catching the Italian’s attention. “I like it because it’s a happy color and always puts me in a good mood,” he explained, then added as an afterthought, “But I also like Prussian blue, since it carries my name and all, which makes it a totally awesome color, because, well… I’m awesome.”

Romano huffed and then asked, “What else?”

Prussia hummed. “I like watching movies. Working out. Animals, since they’re cute. I also like to write, especially about stuff that’s happened to me, or what I’m feeling. Basically journaling.”

The Italian blinked at his words. “…You journal?”

“Yeah,” the former nation replied. “Ever since I was young. It’s a great way to get my thoughts out, and it’s also a good way to keep memories. I’ve got a lot of journals, and I keep them downstairs in my room.” he confessed, “You actually stumbled across them the first time you came in there.” he cringed slightly. “Gott, that embarrassed me so much.”

Romano furrowed his brows, trying to remember, then his eyes widened. “Oh… so that’s what those were,” he muttered to himself. Then, a thought struck him. “Did you ever write about me?”

Prussia went silent, and the Southern nation gasped. “No way… you did!”

“I didn’t say anything!” the ex-nation retorted, but Romano didn’t pay any attention to his words.

“What’d you write about me?”

“That,” Prussia replied, “is between me and the journals.”

The Italian groaned but didn’t press. “Fine,” he muttered, staying quiet for a moment before asking, “So… anything else you like?”

The albino nodded.

And so they kept talking. Prussia shared everything he liked and disliked, sometimes in great detail, sometimes with just a shrug. Romano spoke about his own preferences, and gradually their conversation drifted to other topics. After an hour or so, their voices grew quieter, until finally they drifted off to sleep in each other's arms.

Chapter Text

The next morning came far too quickly, bringing with it the inevitable moment when the Italian brothers had to return home to resume their long-neglected nation duties. I wish I could say the morning went smoothly, but that would be a lie. In truth, it was a total mess.

Neither Romano nor Veneziano wanted to get out of bed, much less face the day ahead. Romano was the worse of the two, which was not surprising, since he had stayed up far too late talking with Prussia and had not even gotten close to eight hours of sleep (which for him was mandatory if he wanted to be even remotely tolerant in the early morning).

Luckily, Prussia and Germany managed to get their respective lovers out of bed. Though, it took a couple of tries and a hell of a lot of effort. Seriously, a lot of effort. Ungluing someone from a bed was no easy task. Getting them ready to leave took even more effort... but in the end, they managed to get through the morning just fine, load the suitcases into the Germans’ car, and head off to the airport.

The car ride was a bitter one for both couples, as they knew their time together was coming to an end. No matter how much they tried to push that thought away, it remained the reality of the situation, and completely out of their control. (Unless, of course, Romano and Veneziano decided to disobey their boss’s orders and stay longer, but that wasn’t something they would ever do, since they didn’t want to put their nation at any kind of risk).

What was even more bitter than the car ride itself, however, was finally arriving at the airport. Romano and Veneziano checked in themselves and their luggage, then made the heavy walk toward the security checkpoint, where they’d have to part from their lovers. Prussia and Germany couldn’t follow them past security without boarding passes, after all.

It was… well, sad, like all goodbyes to loved ones tended to be. But the comforting part about goodbyes was that they weren’t forever. They were only temporary. Goodbyes meant there would be a hello again, and that fact made the distance and waiting seem not quite so terrible. Well, at least in theory.

Veneziano stayed close to Germany as he said his goodbyes, being, of course, all lovey-dovey and sappy in the way only he could manage. Romano, on the other hand, stood a few feet away with Prussia in front of him, wearing the most pitiful look the Italian had ever seen on his face. Not that Romano was doing any better. He probably wore the same pitiful expression himself.

“So…” Prussia said, dragging out the word. “I guess this is goodbye?” he phrased it more like a question than a statement, trying to smile to make the situation seem lighter, though it looked forced and, quite frankly, sad.

The Italian sighed and nodded slowly. “I guess it is...” he mumbled, his eyes falling to the tiles beneath his feet. He’d never thought he’d hesitate to go back home to Italy, but here he was, wishing he could cancel his flight and stay in Germany just to be with Prussia a little longer. Damn it. If only he were allowed a few more days off...

Hearing Romano’s gloomy reply, the albino’s forced smile faltered. He stayed quiet for a moment before his shoulders slumped slightly. “Man, this really sucks,” he murmured. “We just got together yesterday, and now you’re already leaving. I don’t even know when I’ll see you again,” he added with a hint of frustration, kicking at the ground as if it had personally offended him. “I really wish we had more time together...”

Romano felt his heart break at that, biting his lip as he tried to keep his composure. It didn’t really work. “Me too,” he said quietly. “I wish we could have more time together, but you know I can’t stay here as long as I want.” he lifted his gaze, meeting the red eyes already fixed on him. “I have to go back to Italy. It’s my duty to my nation and my people.”

“I know,” the Prussian replied quickly. “Trust me, I really do. I’d never dream of keeping you from that or putting your people at risk just because I’m too head over heels for you to let you go. That would be un-awesome of me,” he said, perking up a little. “And you know I don’t do un-awesome.”

The remark earned a small huff from Romano before Prussia’s voice softened. “But that doesn’t mean I have to like it,” he added, his expression slipping back into that downhearted look as he gently took Romano’s hand, leaving the Italian blinking in slight bewilderment. “I really don’t like that you’re leaving.”

The Southern nation opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out. His throat tightened, and all he could do was press his lips together, his hand curling tightly around Prussia’s. Hearing him say that made everything a thousand times harder than it already was. Oh, what he would give to stay here in Germany for as long as he wanted, right beside Prussia.

But, of course, that wasn’t possible, because he… well… he was a nation. Not that he didn’t love being a nation or his people. He truly did. He just hated the constant work that came with that responsibility and how little free time it left him. Still, every duty came with its burdens, especially one as great as representing an entire country, or half of one in his case, and he had to bear those burdens for the sake of his homeland, even if it broke his heart in the process.

“I don’t like it either,” Romano admitted quietly. “If I had a choice, I’d stay. But I don’t have that kind of luxury.”

“I know,” Prussia repeated, giving Romano’s hand a gentle squeeze before straightening up, as if trying to lift the mood. “Well,” he began, tugging the Italian a little closer by the hand. “it was really nice having you here. I’ve had a lot of fun. More than I’ve had in a long time, actually. You made these days we spent together seriously awesome.” he brought his free hand to the back of his neck, rubbing it awkwardly. “I know you haven’t even left yet, but I already can’t wait to see you again,” he admitted. Then he pulled Romano into a tight hug. “I’m going to be really lonely without you here...”

Romano froze for only a moment before slowly wrapping his arms around the German and returning the hug just as tightly.

Damn Prussia. Damn him for knowing exactly what to say to make everything hurt more.

The Southern nation felt his eyes sting and blinked quickly, refusing to let himself cry. He shouldn’t be crying. It’s not like he was never going to see Prussia again. But God, it felt like that, and it hurt all the same.

“Idiot… you are such an idiot.” Romano mumbled at last, earning an amused huff from the former nation.

He didn’t need to say it out loud for Prussia to understand that he was going to be just as lonely without him as Prussia would be without him.

For a long moment, they just stood there in each other’s arms, listening to the buzz of announcements from the speakers, the rolling of suitcases, and the footsteps of people hurrying to their flights, before finally pulling apart.

They stared at each other, saying nothing, until Prussia’s gaze flicked sideways and landed on Veneziano pressing a sweet kiss to Germany. An idea suddenly lit up the ex-nation’s face. He quickly turned back to Romano, and with a crooked grin, he asked, “So, are you going to give me a goodbye kiss now?” he gestured to his lips, practically bouncing with excitement. “You know, so our love doesn’t die out or whatever that expression was!”

The dark-haired Italian rolled his eyes. Prussia could be so ridiculous sometimes... but in a sweet way. He couldn’t deny he wasn’t opposed to the idea of kissing him. Actually, he was far from opposed. Who knew when he’d get another chance to kiss Prussia? He needed to make the most of the last few minutes they had together.

Romano pretended to think for a moment, then, to the albino’s surprise, grabbed him by the front of his shirt and pulled him close until their lips met in a soft kiss. The gesture melted Prussia on the spot, his grin fading into a small smile as he followed Romano’s lead, kissing him back just as gently. Romano would have been damned if he admitted that it didn’t make his heart stutter in his chest.

He was going to miss this so much. Prussia was right. This really was unfair. They had barely been together for a day, and now they already had to part. How stupid was the way this universe worked? Yet, Romano couldn’t bring himself to hate it entirely. He used to, but not anymore. After all, it was this same universe that had brought him here in the first place and given him Prussia. For that reason, he could admit that he liked it, even if only a little.

The Italian pulled back slightly to catch his breath, releasing the German’s shirt before lifting his hand to gently grasp his jaw. He tilted Prussia’s head a little, then leaned in again and kissed him, slower this time, wanting the moment to last as long as it could.

Romano poured all the longing he knew he would feel during the long time apart into every soft kiss, along with the love he felt for Prussia now, and the love he knew he would keep feeling for as long as time continued to move forward.

When he finally drew back, his hazel eyes flicked over Prussia’s face, which now looked less amused and more dazed. Romano pressed one last tender kiss to the corner of his mouth before pulling away for good, his hand coming to rest gently against the albino’s cheek.

The former nation stared at him with astonished eyes, blinking slowly before leaning into the Italian's touch. His expression shifted into something deeply melancholic.

“Oh, man... now I really don’t want you to leave,” he whispered, his voice breaking apart with each word. He drew in a shaky breath, then lifted his hand to rest over the Southern nation’s, giving him a pleading look. “Can’t you stay? Just for one more day?”

Romano’s heart ached at the pleading in Prussia’s voice. He wanted to say yes. God, he wanted to. But instead, he simply brushed his thumb over the albino’s cheek in a soft, comforting touch.

“No... I can’t.” he said quietly.

The former nation closed his eyes at the answer, nodding though he looked like a kicked puppy. “I’m gonna miss you...”

Romano sighed at that. “I’ll miss you too.”

Just then, the airport speakers crackled overhead: “Now boarding flight to Rome, Italy. Passengers please proceed to security.”

At those words, Romano flinched slightly. He turned his head toward the departures board and saw that the flight to Italy was already boarding. A tight feeling settled in his chest. His eyes darted to Veneziano, who had just pulled away from Germany after one last kiss and was now waiting in the security line, waving frantically at him and motioning for him to hurry.

The Southern nation swallowed hard and gave his brother a faint nod before turning his attention back to Prussia.

“I have to go...” he said quietly, letting his gaze linger on the other man’s face for a moment before stepping forward and pulling him into a quick, unexpected hug. The albino barely had time to react before Romano let go and stepped back. Romano gave him a small wave, then turned on his heel, heading toward his brother so he wouldn’t miss his flight. A part of him almost wanted to miss it, but God help him, his boss would kill him, and then kill poor Veneziano for not forcing his ass onto the plane (which was definitely not a good outcome!).

He had only taken a few steps when he suddenly felt a hand close around his wrist, halting him in place. Confused, he turned and met Prussia’s eyes, finding the albino looking at him with a slight nervous look.

“Wait! Before you go, just… when will I be able to see you again?” Prussia asked, worry flickering in his tone.

The Southern nation blinked at him, then sighed inwardly. Ah, Prussia, you sweet idiot. Tilting his head slightly, he gave the former nation a small smile. “Soon, if you’re lucky.”

Prussia couldn’t help but laugh, clearly not expecting that answer. Shaking his head, he grinned. “So that means you’re planning to visit again soon?”

“Probably,” Romano replied with a hum, then added, “Or maybe you should come to Italy instead. It’s only fair, since I came all the way here. Besides, I did invite you once, and it would be a shame to let that go to waste.”

The former furrowed his brows in thought before nodding slowly. “You did,” he admitted thoughtfully, before his expression brightened. “So, you want me to come to Italy then?”

“I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t.” Romano replied matter-of-factly, earning an even wider grin from the other man.

“Well then, I hope I’m real lucky!” Prussia said cheerfully.

Romano huffed, though his smile softened. “I hope so too.” he replied quietly, a sense of ease washing over him at the thought of the former nation visiting his home. He didn’t have much time to linger on the feeling, though, as his brother’s sudden call nearly made him jump out of his skin.

“Fratello! The plane’s going to leave without you if you don’t hurry!” Veneziano exclaimed worriedly, holding up the security line and gesturing frantically for Romano to move, all while apologizing profusely to the people behind him.

Seeing the chaos, Romano muttered a curse under his breath. Damn it. “Prussia—” he started, but before he could finish, the albino released his wrist and cut him off.

“Yeah, I know,” he responded, letting out a small sigh. “You should go.” his red eyes dropped for a moment before lifting again to meet Romano’s. He stepped back, a longing look flickering across his face. “I guess I’ll see you again in Italy then? Someday?”

“Yeah. Hopefully.” Romano replied softly. “Alla prossima volta (Until next time.)”

With that, he turned and hurried to his brother’s side. Veneziano exhaled in relief as the two finally passed through security. Prussia watched them go, his gaze lingering on Romano. He lifted a hand in a slow wave, receiving a few in return, before they disappeared into the crowd heading toward the terminal to Italy.

The ex-nation clenched his raised hand into a fist for a moment before relaxing it and letting it fall limply to his side. He drew in a breath, then exhaled deeply, his gaze dropping to the tiles below. Now that Romano was gone, well, not gone-gone since he was still in the same country and the plane had yet to take off, but gone in the sense that he was no longer within reach, Prussia felt painfully hollow, as if someone had reached into his chest and torn out his heart.

Was this how his kid brother felt every time little Italy left to go back home? If so, then this was one hell of a kind of suffering. He regretted ever mocking him for being gloomy whenever the younger Italian was away.

Prussia let out another long sigh before finally lifting his gaze from the floor. The terminal was growing emptier as more passengers boarded the plane. His eyes instinctively searched the crowd for a familiar dark-haired brunet, but when he couldn’t find who he was looking for, he blinked and turned his attention instead to the glowing digits on the departure board.

He knew he probably looked pathetic right now, but he didn’t care. He already missed Romano far too much to think about anything else, which was silly, since it wasn’t as if this were their last goodbye. But could he really be blamed? Romano was his first real love in a long time, and parting from him hurt more than he wanted to admit.

Sure, he knew he could text or video call. It was the twenty-first century, after all. But honestly, talking to someone through a screen was nothing compared to being next to them in real life. So really, don’t hold it against Prussia for being a sour lemon about it.

Honestly, in all the time he had known the older Italian, with all the insults, complaints, and the occasional hits for annoying him, nothing Romano had ever done or said had hurt him as much as his leaving did now. The comparison probably sounded harsh, especially since Romano hadn’t left by choice. No one knew better than Prussia that Romano would have stayed if he could, but it was the only way to describe how he felt. Of course, he didn’t blame the older Italian. He could never blame him. As Romano himself had said, it was a nation’s duty to return to their people and their land. Even so, it was a bitter reality to accept.

So bitter...

Just as that thought crossed the former nation’s mind, he heard footsteps approaching. He turned his head just in time to see his brother standing beside him, a sympathetic look on his face.

“Don’t look so down, Bruder,” Germany said. “It’s not the end of the world. You’ll see him again someday.”

At that, Prussia sighed. “I know, but that ‘someday’ is probably going to be a few months from now, with all this country work stuff…” he muttered quietly, then added, “And I don’t think I can wait that long.”

Upon hearing his words, Germany shook his head slightly. “You’re acting like a kid,” he remarked, which made Prussia huff and give his younger brother a flat look that went completely ignored. “If I can wait for Italy, then I’m sure you can wait for Romano too. Patience is a virtue, after all.”

Prussia crossed his arms and looked away with a small frown. His brother was right. Relationships were complicated and required patience above all else. But patience was hard. How could he possibly be patient when all he wanted was to be near Romano?

The ex-nation frowned even more, a gesture that did not go unnoticed by Germany. His brother stayed silent for a moment, as if searching for the right words, before finally speaking in a quiet, thoughtful tone. “You know, bruder,” he began, “I know it might feel like all this longing is pointless, but it isn’t. It’s this longing that makes reunions all the more sweeter. You’ll have to trust me on this. I’d know.”

Hearing that, Prussia turned to look at him, his eyes widening slightly in surprise. He studied his brother for a moment, and to his own surprise, the frustration he felt began to fade.

Huh.

“You’re... totally right, West,” Prussia said at last, letting his gaze drift toward the large glass windows of the airport. He watched as several planes took off into the sky with the familiar roaring sound of engines, a small smile tugging at his lips. Then he turned back to Germany and patted him on the shoulder with his usual cheerful energy. “Let’s go home.”

The blonde looked at him for a second before shaking his head lightly and smiling faintly. “Alright.” he agreed, then followed after the albino, who had already begun walking toward the airport exit.

They walked in silence for a while, Prussia quietly humming a tune under his breath, until Germany spoke again. “Also, bruder, I forgot to mention, you probably won’t have to wait as long as you think to see Romano again,” he said, making the albino glance at him in confusion.

Seeing that look, Germany continued, “The winter holidays are coming up in less than a month. All of us nations will be free from work then, so we’ll be able to travel as we like.” he paused for a moment before adding thoughtfully, “Unless, of course, there’s an emergency in our respective countries… but that’s unlikely, so you don’t need to worry about that.”

Prussia stared at the younger man in disbelief, his mouth slightly open as if he couldn’t quite process what he’d just heard. After a long moment, he blinked and finally found his voice. “Wait, you’re serious?”

Germany frowned slightly. “Yes? It’s late November now, and after November comes December. That's when the winter holidays are. Did you seriously forget what month it is? What planet are you living on?”

Prussia smiled sheepishly and looked away with a small shrug. “Sorry, I kinda forgot to keep track of that stuff with… well, everything going on.” he admitted, earning an exasperated groan from his younger brother.

Wait! If what Germany said was true (and it probably was, since his brother rarely lied, especially about something so trivial), that meant he could see Romano again in less than a few weeks. The realization made a wide grin spread across the former nation’s face. It looked like he wouldn’t have to be too patient after all.

“Hey, hey, West!” Prussia suddenly exclaimed, his voice full of excitement as he caught his brother’s attention.

“What?”

“I wanna go to Italy for the winter holidays!” he blurted out, earning a surprised look from Germany. “Let’s go next month, yeah? What do you say?” he asked eagerly. “I bet it’s gonna be awesome over there! They don’t have as much snow as we do, but they’ve got awesome food and killer views. Oh man, just thinking about it’s making me excited!”

The blue-eyed man continued to stare at Prussia in surprise before his expression softened. “That sounds nice,” he said, then looked ahead contentedly. “Well then, since you want to go so badly, I guess we have no choice but to go to Italy next month.”

At that, Prussia let out a cheerful laugh and slung an arm around his brother’s shoulders. “Don’t act like you don’t wanna go there just as much as I do!”

Germany rolled his eyes, but the ex-nation caught the slight twitch at his lips and knew he was right then and there.

The two nations left the airport and got into their car, heading home. While Germany focused on driving, Prussia looked out the window at the gray sky. He still couldn’t believe he was the one Romano loved.

Romano had always seemed impossible to win over, both as a friend and as something more, like a puzzle that was nearly impossible to complete because all the pieces looked the same. But maybe he had just never looked at him the right way before. Maybe he had been too narrow-minded, just like everyone else.

Now that Romano loved him, he didn’t ever want to lose that. He was going to hold onto it, no matter how much effort it took.

Wow… things really do change when you least expect them to. Funny how that works.

Prussia smiled slightly and turned to the car radio, flipping through the stations until he found a song he liked. He leaned back in his seat, looking happier than ever.

Germany glanced at him from the side before saying, “I’m glad to see you’re in good spirits.”

“Of course I am! I’m going to Italy in a few weeks!” the albino said cheerfully, then pointed at Germany. “And so are you, so you should be just as excited!”

“I can’t say that I’m not excited,” the blond replied, “but right now my mind is on the new paperwork I have to finish, so I can’t really show it.” he paused, raising a brow. “Speaking of work, did you ever finish that report you said you’d do for me?”

At that, the former nation’s excitement faded, and he quickly looked away. “Uhh…” he mumbled, drawing out the sound before shrugging. “It’s a work in progress?”

“So, you didn’t finish it.” Germany said, to which Prussia simply shook his head in response.

“I’ll finish it as soon as we get home, I promise!” Prussia exclaimed. “It’s almost done anyway, I’ll have it finished in no time! I just got too caught up hanging out with Romano and completely forgot!”

Germany sighed but didn’t seem upset. “No, I understand, don’t worry,” he said. “I was spending time with Italy too and couldn’t really focus on work, so I get it.” he paused before adding, “But I do need to send that report today, so it would be great if you could finish it soon.”

Prussia waved a hand dismissively. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll take care of it, don’t worry.” he said with a grin before turning back to the radio. He flipped through the stations until he found a song in Italian and let it play all the way through.

.
.
.

Fortunately, the two halves of Italy didn’t miss their flight. They quickly boarded the plane and were guided to their seats by a friendly stewardess. Naturally, they were flying business class, because when your “company” is literally the government, you get the good stuff. And if they had to spend their days running around on diplomatic errands and obeying every ridiculous order from their boss, they might as well do it in comfort. Once seated, they relaxed and watched as the other passengers bustled to find their places while the cabin crew made final preparations for takeoff.

Romano rested his elbow on the armrest and propped his head in his palm as he fiddled with the small TV in front of him. He scrolled through the movie selection, then the music section, but ended up choosing nothing. With a quiet sigh, he turned the screen off, leaned back in his seat, and glanced over at his younger brother. Veneziano was busy typing on his phone, apparently informing their boss that they had boarded the plane and would arrive in about two hours. Romano clicked his tongue and stared up at the ceiling. He definitely didn’t miss working. Oh well, he’d deal with that later. For now, he could still relax. Just as that thought crossed his mind, Veneziano put his phone away, turned toward him, and placed both hands on the divider between their seats, looking as cheerful as ever.

“I finished texting our boss! She said she’ll send a car to pick us up from the airport when we arrive!” Veneziano exclaimed. “I think that’s really nice of her! Don’t you think so, fratello?”

The older Italian simply rolled his eyes. “Yeah, real nice,” he muttered. “That car will take us straight to work, and we’ll both be buried under mountains of paperwork.”

Hearing his words, the Northern nation pouted. “You’re being really negative right now, fratello.”

“Sorry, but you can’t say I’m wrong.” Romano replied, and Veneziano responded by squinting at him.

“Our boss isn’t that mean. I’m sure she’ll let us stop by the house to drop off our luggage, change, and maybe even eat something.” he pointed out. Romano wanted to argue, but he couldn’t really find a reason to, since Veneziano was actually kind of right. Their boss was a pretty nice person and not the type to send them straight to work right after a flight. Still, Romano enjoyed complaining and making his life sound worse than it really was, so he wasn’t about to give Veneziano the satisfaction of winning the argument. With that thought, the dark-haired brunet swatted his brother’s hands away from the seat divider and pressed the button to raise the privacy screen between them, making Veneziano gasp in disbelief.

“Fratello!” the northern nation exclaimed before pressing the button himself, making the privacy screen stop rising and start lowering again. That, of course, prompted Romano to press it once more, followed immediately by Veneziano doing the same. The two went back and forth like that for a full minute, bickering and clicking the button until a stewardess approached them and kindly asked them to stop before they broke the mechanism. Both brothers turned red with embarrassment and quickly apologized, deciding to leave the screen lowered. Once the stewardess walked away, Romano gave his brother a sharp nudge as payback for embarrassing him in public, and Veneziano simply stuck out his tongue in response.

They stayed quiet for a moment, both pretending to be mad at each other, but that only lasted a minute or two (They could never stay angry at each other for too long).

“By the way, fratello,” Veneziano began, fiddling with his seatbelt for a moment before snapping it into place and looking quite proud of himself. “What were you talking to Prussia about?” he asked, glancing at his older brother with curious eyes. “We almost missed our flight because of you, so it must’ve been pretty important.”

At that, Romano practically short-circuited. Half from embarrassment, since they really had almost missed their flight because of him, and half (or maybe even more) because of what Veneziano had just asked.

“Nothing interesting… we just said our goodbyes, that’s all.” the Southern nation muttered under his breath, busying himself with fastening his own seatbelt so he wouldn’t have to meet his brother’s eyes.

“Just that? Really?” the younger man pressed on, his expression twisting into slight amusement. “To me, it looked like you two said more than just your goodbyes, hehe.”

Hearing that, Romano snapped his head toward his brother, eyes wide, before smacking him on the arm, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to startle him. “Veneziano, what the hell?!” he exclaimed, his face flushed, while Veneziano just burst out laughing.

“What? It’s not like I’m wrong,” he said with a small shrug before flashing a bright grin. “I thought Germany and I were sappy, but you and Prussia are way worse,” he added, gesturing dramatically toward his brother. “You were practically sucking each other’s faces back at the airport—” he didn’t get to finish, though, because Romano quickly slapped a hand over his mouth, muffling the rest of his words.

Romano glanced around, horrified, checking to see if any of the other passengers had heard anything. Once he was sure they hadn’t, he let out a sigh and turned back to his brother, glaring at him.

“Veneziano, I’m going to kill you,” he said, half in a whisper and half in a shout, then removed his hand from his brother’s mouth, grabbed him by the shoulders, and shook him violently. “Why do you have to shout things like that for the whole world to hear...?!”

Veneziano felt a little dizzy. He quickly pried Romano off him, pressed a hand to his head to steady himself, and shot his older brother a sheepish look. “Sorry, fratello,” he apologized. “I don’t really see a problem with saying that out loud. It’s not unusual for people to kiss their lovers when saying goodbye at the airport. I did that with Germany to.”

“You—That’s not how… It’s embarrassing!” the dark-haired brunet protested, burying his face in his hands. “Especially when you say it the way you said it!”

“How did I say it, exactly?”

At that, Romano dropped his hands. “I don’t know, just—” he waved his hands around, trying to imitate what his brother had said, but it was far too mortifying. “Really embarrassing! Shut up!” he exclaimed, crossing his arms and looking away.

Hearing his words, Veneziano let out another amused laugh before seeming to finally give in to Romano’s wishes and stay quiet. Of course, that only lasted as long as Veneziano was capable of keeping silent, which, true to form, was about ten minutes. After ordering some water, he turned back to Romano, who looked a little less annoyed and embarrassed now, though he was still frowning slightly.

“Hey, fratello!” the Northern nation said, poking Romano in the arm.

“What?” the older man muttered under his breath, not looking at him.

“I’m glad things turned out the way they did.” Veneziano said, his tone warm and sincere. The Southern nation blinked, then turned toward his light-haired brother, his expression softening as his frown disappeared.

“You are?”

“Sì!” Veneziano replied with a quick nod and a soft smile. “Everything turned out for the better, how could I not be glad?” he said before looking away, his expression turning slightly melancholic. “You really worried me before, fratello…” he admitted quietly. “I wanted to help you so badly, but I didn’t know how. You were so distressed, and I was afraid of making things worse,” he continued, fidgeting with his hands. “When we first came to Germany, and then after that day when you had that, um, crash out, I honestly thought everything was going to fall apart. Actually, I thought it already had, and I felt so guilty for ever bringing you to this country...” he confessed.

Romano looked at him with wide eyes as Veneziano went on. “That night, I prayed, even though it’s not something I do as much as I used to, I prayed for things to turn out well,” he said before his face brightened into a warm smile. “And I guess it worked because things really did turn around for the better!” he exclaimed, leaning awkwardly over the seat divider to pull Romano into a hug. “I’m really happy for you, fratello!”

The older Italian froze for a moment before slowly wrapping his arms around his brother. Sometimes Veneziano was just too good for this world, and Romano couldn’t help feeling lucky to have him as a sibling. He exhaled softly. “Grazie. I’m happy too.” he said, and it was true. He was happy. Sad about parting from Prussia so soon, yes, but still happy with how everything had turned out. Really happy. He had told himself over and over again that he would regret coming to Germany, convincing himself of it countless times. But looking back, he realized he had been lying to himself all along, because now, he didn’t regret it one bit.

The two Italians eventually had to end their hug as the plane began to take off. They settled back into their seats, both content. After a quiet moment, North Italy spoke again, his voice once more full of his usual cheer, the melancholy gone.

“I’m hungry! Should we order something to eat?” he asked eagerly. “This is an Italian airline, so the food has to be good! I wonder if they have risotto. Oh, I’m really craving risotto right now!”

“They probably do,” Romano said thoughtfully, picking up the menu and skimming through it before showing it to Veneziano. “Yeah, they do.” he confirmed, then continued reading for a moment, silently deciding on what he wanted before setting the menu back down.

“Yupii! I’m so happy right now!” the Northern nation exclaimed brightly. “I loved staying in Germany, but I really missed all the good food we have back home.”

Romano nodded at that. He had missed all the delicious food back in Italy too. German food was fine, but if he had to choose between a broken leg and a plate of pasta, or being perfectly healthy with German food, he’d take the broken leg. No offense to the Germans.

Romano leaned back in his seat, turning the thought over in his mind while his brother eagerly flipped through his own in-flight menu, humming a cheerful tune under his breath. For a moment, he just watched Veneziano’s carefree smile before a realization suddenly hit him.

“Hey… Veneziano.” he began, his voice quieter than before.

His brother looked up, curious. “Hm? What is it, fratello?”

Romano hesitated for a second, fingers tapping nervously on the armrest. “Did I ever tell you… why my insomnia started?”

Veneziano blinked, caught off guard by the question. “No, you didn’t,” he responded, confusion flickering in his brown eyes. “Why?”

Romano exhaled slowly, glancing toward the window where clouds drifted lazily past the glass. He sat in silence for a moment, weighing his options before sighing. Veneziano always told him everything, so it was only fair to do the same. Sometimes it was necessary to keep things from the people you loved, but not this time. Veneziano was part of the reason his insomnia had started, and he deserved to know that. He also deserved to know that he was no longer a problem, that Romano no longer saw himself as less or felt jealous of him, that everything was okay now.

It was only fair.

“I think…” Romano said at last. “it’s time I tell you. I’ve kept you in the dark for too long.”

The younger Italian’s expression grew more attentive, and he turned in his seat to face him fully. “Oh,” he said, then shook his head with a small smile. “Okay, fratello. I’m listening.”

Romano felt a pang of fear twist in his stomach, but he pushed it aside. “Right, um… just… don’t get sad on me, okay? Promise?”

“I won’t,” Veneziano reassured him. “I promise.”

Romano took a breath, ready to speak, but stopped himself just as the words were about to come out. Instead, he said, “Also, just a heads-up, I don’t think like that anymore, okay?”

Veneziano looked a little confused by his words but nodded anyway, as understanding as always. “Okay. I believe you.”

The older man exhaled, then finally began to say what he needed to, starting from the very beginning when it had all started.

Life was strange. Romano had always seen it as something cruel and unfair, something that seemed to take pleasure in making him suffer day after day. For years, he had cursed its unfairness and convinced himself that his life would always be miserable no matter what he did. But maybe… maybe he had been the unfair one. Maybe he had never really given life a chance.

He had always told himself that the people around him disliked him, that all his efforts were useless, that he could never measure up to anyone, and that he was the most worthless nation of them all. He had built that belief piece by piece in his own head until he truly believed it was real. But in truth, it was only that, something his mind had created.

He hadn’t realized it until he came to Germany... the country he thought he despised the most, the country he was supposed to despise the most, and yet the country he grew to like more than many others he had visited before. Coming here had been one of the best choices he could have made. Actually, getting closer to Prussia had been one of the best choices he could have made.

Prussia, the one nation he had sworn he couldn’t stand, had become the one he now couldn’t help but love and long for. He had opened Romano’s eyes and made him see that life wasn’t about sulking or wishing for things to get easier. It was about pushing forward and making changes when they were needed. And Romano did just that.

He changed the way he looked at things, and life began to feel good again. He realized he wasn’t hated or pitied, but that he was wanted and loved. For all of that, Romano knew he would love Prussia for as long as he could... for as long as the world would allow it.

Though it pained him to leave, the thought of seeing him again someday eased that pain and filled him with hope. Maybe the insomnia, with all its exhaustion, bitterness, and sleepless nights, had been something he needed to go through. Because through that suffering, he had gotten to where he was now. He had found peace.

He had learned not to shut himself away, to open up, and to see beauty even in the things he once hated. Maybe, Romano realized, he hadn’t been searching for a cure for his insomnia at all. He had been looking for a cure for himself... to heal, and to learn how to live again.

Perhaps that was the real cure to insomnia.