Hello everyone! 'Tis be JansenFriedh827.
XD I moved on from the fluffy happiness of Color (if you haven't read it of mine, it'd make me happy if you did! :D) and the short angst of Winter to move on to more GerIta, except this time, with Spamano! I love Spamano. It's epic. Spain's epic. So, bam, Spamano. This story was originally a GerIta one-shot, with North Italy basically angry at Romano for being a jerk to Germany, but it evolved into a fic about coping with the pain of losing someone close to you.
This story is based from Romano's point of view with Veneciano as the next main character as they basically cope with loss. Veneciano's loss made him angry, tougher, but still brittle on the inside. Romano reacted the opposite way. You don't see, but you will. This is a three-shot. I've got a bit of symbolism, some underlying thoughts and ideas. I hope they come across to everyone when they read. :D
Anyway, here's my story, everyone! Chapter One, at least. Its the shortest one. By faaaar. This one's 2 and a half pages, chapter two is something like 8-10 pages, haha.
The title means Pain of Loss in Italian. XD Lol cliche's.
I don't own Hetalia. I only own this story in particular. And the plot and dialogue and stuff. No wait, that's all part of the story...
Romano didn't know what to do when, at nearly 3 in the morning, his younger brother had come bursting through his front door. Romano instantly jolted up upon hearing the crash. As he did, he felt his companion sleeping next to him stir as well, groggy a moment, but becoming quickly alert. Without stopping to ask why Spain was in his bed in the first place, Romano asked, "Did you hear that noise?"
Spain, his face with a rare, serious look, nodded and said, "I think someone came through the front door,"
"Romano!" A voice shrieked from the lower floor, muffled by the closed door of his bedroom.
"Was that Veneciano?" Romano asked with a screaming sense of urgency. Immediately, he jumped from bed, Spain right behind him. As soon as he opened his bedroom door, he found Veneciano, half-dressed and flustered, standing in front of the destroyed door. "Veneciano, how- why the hell did you break-" Romano stopped upon seeing his younger brother's face. The younger boy looked like he was about to cry. Not his usual coward tears, either. His brow trembled and his eyes were laced with fear. His face was red and he was sweating- probably from the run- and his lip quivered.
"B-brother…" His voice was broken, but it was obvious he had not been crying yet. Spain immediately rushed past Romano to Veneciano.
"Veneciano, what's the matter? What's so urgent? Has someone attacked you?" Veneciano didn't answer. Instead, he kept his look straight on Romano.
"… G-Germany…" Immediately Romano's anger flared.
"Did that potato bastard do this to you? What the hell did he do? Where is he? I'm gonna give him a piece of my mind, that-!"
"No, Romano," Veneciano's voiced sounded less broken for a moment. Romano saw his eyebrows fall into an uncharacteristic look. "He didn't do anything."
"Don't cover for him! What did he do to you? That bastard, I swear I'm going to-"
Romano was in shock. His eyes widened and he could feel his knees get weak. He could see Spain's lower jaw fall before the man clamped his hand over it, his body quivering. "No… No way…"
"I got a call from the western front. Germany was killed leading his men in battle." There was a sense of finality to his statement to Romano, as if that was all that needed to be said, but Veneciano continued. "They were run in by bombs from enemy planes. The battlefield was so burnt and destroyed; they couldn't even make out his body. Everyone was dead."
"Are you happy now?" His brother demanded of him, his voice growing loud. "You always hated him, and now he's- now-"
"Gone! Now he's gone! He'll never come back! He'll never make me wurst, he'll never play soccer with me, he'll never yell at me for being annoying, he'll never turn red when I hug him, or when I kiss him on his cheek…" Veneciano trailed off as his sentence went on. Small tears were trailing down his face. His face was red, but from anger. "I'll never get to express how thankful I was to him anymore. Do you know I always wanted to tell you how I felt about him? I wanted to confide in my own brother? But every time I brought him up you talked about how terrible he was! You didn't even bother to know him, and now you can't! Now I can't!" At this point, Spain attempted to calmly step in, through his face showed he was clearly still shaken.
"Italy, I know you're angry, but please don't be angry at Ro-" With that, Veneciano turned and, with some uncharacteristic strength, punched the older man in the face, sending him reeling backwards, falling onto the glass coffee table. With a disturbing crack, Spain's head slammed into the glass and instantly it shattered. Romano felt worry and guilt surge up to his throat, and without looking at Veneciano, he ran towards the unmoving Spaniard. Showing aside the table's metal frame, he pulled the upper body of the man onto his lap. He was unconscious. A thin trail of blood fell from his temple, as well as a few minor cuts from the broken glass. Romano could feel his own feet receiving cuts, but was barely aware of it. His eyes had trailed back up to his younger brother. For a minute he was afraid of what his brother would do, but that all faded the instant his eyes met Veneciano's. His brother looked more afraid of himself than Romano did of him. His gaze on Spain, his younger brother fell to a heap on the floor, his hands pressed over his eyes and his hair gently falling around his face, obscuring Romano's view. Tears splashed to the hardwood floor.
"Germany…" Romano could make out the potato bastard's name. As soon as he thought of the name he himself had given the man, Romano felt guilty. Here he was insulting someone even after he was dead, and the man's best friend- also his own brother- was sobbing in front of him. Romano considered lowering Spain back on the ground, but upon spying the glass, he gently picked him up- with great effort- and managed to set him on the nearby couch. With that, Romano stepped over to his brother and leaned down, putting an arm around him awkwardly. "He's gone, brother… What do I do? I feel so lost now. Like I don't know how to eat anymore, or how to walk, or how to cry…" Romano didn't answer.
"Are… You happy, Romano? He's gone, just… Just like you always wanted him to be. He won't ever… Come back… I won't be hanging out with him anymore…" Veneciano still issued harsh words, but they had lost their bite. He hugged his brother close as his cursed him between tears. "Stupid, stupid Romano. You had to… Say such awful things about him… Now he, just like the other… They've both left me…" Romano could feel his brother growing weaker.
"Veneciano… I'm sorry." Romano offered. "Truly… Every insult I gave to him was just out of jealousy because of how obviously he cared about you. I never hated him. I also know he never hated me, and he never acted rudely towards me. He was a good person, Veneciano, even if I acted like I didn't know it."
"You… Don't mean that." Romano winced at that.
"Brother, I'm sorry. I can't…" He couldn't imagine the pain his little brother was in.
"Imagine if you lost Spain, brother. Imagine if you lost Spain so suddenly one day, while he was off protecting you, and every day I saw him I acted like I hated him so much… Imagine if you lost him right now." Romano didn't even try to imagine the situation; just from his brother's words, he felt a pang of melancholy, loneliness, guilt, and hate towards himself. He felt tears prickle at his eyes. Without meaning to, he threw a look towards Spain, lying on the couch behind him, just in case. He willed his heart to slow down as he saw the gentle rise and fall of the man's chest. "Can't you see, brother? See what I'm going through?" Veneciano looked up to him. His face no longer had any anger. It only had sadness and loneliness. His eyes were swollen and red from tears.
"I can't… Truly understand, Veneciano… I'm sorry. I don't know what else to do…"
There was a brief moment of silence as Veneciano's tears slowed.
"I just can't believe he's gone."
Romano couldn't, either. He had seen the man simply a few days before. He felt a strange sense of fear, knowing that the man wouldn't be protecting him and Veneciano anymore. He felt guilt at having insulted the man so much. He felt a small prick of anger for having broken a promise so huge to Veneciano, but mostly he felt remorse over having lost a companion in something as terrible as battle. Romano felt conflicting feelings; of course he felt sadness towards the man, but he still felt lingering sentiments of his faux-hatred. Romano just wanted things to go back to normal. All he could do now, though, was slowly bring his brother to his feet, lead him to the couch, and sit down. He picked up Spain's head and sat it on his lap, and brought his younger brother to sit next to him, lying against his chest.
Instead of feeling his usual embarrassment at being so affectionate, Romano felt warm, despite the situation. He could feel the tears that shook Veneciano's shoulders slowly fade, and the boy was soon asleep with his head rested against Romano's shoulder. Romano ran his hands through Spain's hair, only a faint blush tickling his cheeks. Here he was with his younger brother and his- er, friend- lying with him, asleep. He thought he should have felt somewhat more secure with them, but as he began to feel sleep wash over him, he could only think that there was a gaping hole among them.