Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia, or its characters.

This story is also unedited.

A/N: I'm sorry for the lame title, but I am grateful that I actually wrote something. For a week or two, it seemed that I have run into a wall to where my road of ideas extends too. Some might know this as writers block. But I don't want to call it that. Because that term makes me think of those baby blocks with letters. So I refer to it as a wall. But as I was just so going on with my day, this idea struck me. Even then, I revised a whole lot.
I really wish this story makes sense.


They never notice, as I slipped from inside the room to when I silently leave the room. All were too busy laughing, their laughter leaving a bitter feeling that was shriveled and miserable in the pit of my core. More the reason to hate this day, this day that I shared with my younger brother: our birthday.

But to most, it was his birthday. His day, another year achieved in being a successful country. Even now, I seemed to be glued to the wall by some magical force as I watched my brother spin around the dance floor with various people, other countries who smiled and laughed with him.

How I wanted to just step away from the wall, and scream at everyone who are currently ignoring. My soul, my inner voice, my core, was urging me to just clutch at my hair until it became painful, and to scream at everyone to not ignore me, appreciate me too! I'm Italy too!

Instead, my body pushed itself away from the wall and head over to the balcony. Ignoring other people, who simply stepped out of my way, I finally closed my eyes in bliss at the cool breeze that stroked my flushed skin, as I made my way onto the unoccupied balcony. Leaning against a rail, my eyes trailed to the moon, grateful for the sounds of nature that dimmed the sounds of laughter behind me, dimming the laughter and conversation to a mere echo of their own.

The rushing feeling of anger and bitter thoughts mauled themselves into feelings of regret and guilt. Turning around, I risked a glance at my happy brother. Currently, he was dancing with his friend, Japan, who looked oddly uncomfortable as my little brother forced him to stumble around as they attempted to twirl around other people.

A small smile tugged itself at my lips, as I watched my brother laugh again, Japan finally pulling away. How could I ever feel angry at him for too long? It was practically impossible. Sure, I was irritated with him most of the time; but that was due to me feeling jealous over the attention he naturally got.

Childish feelings of the same jealousy arose, causing bile to sting at my throat as I forcefully bit it back with a frown. Feeling frustration claw under my skin, I suddenly tipped my head back and let out a low groan of annoyance. Why couldn't I just come to a conclusion already? I'm pretty sure people are supposed to be enjoying their birthdays, not fuming over feelings that stayed with them over the years.

I guessed that was the problem with me, not being able to let things go. Not being able to just shrug things off, and move on, something felt like it was preventing me from doing that. Instead, emotions lingered in my mind, tainting everything I see with their unwelcomed feelings. Maybe it was a curse, or maybe it was just me being stubborn. Either one, I suppose.

"Hola," A voice greeted. "Are you enjoying your birthday?" I didn't even have to straighten from my current position of staring at the moon to know who that voice belonged to. Hell, even how he greeted me left me know. Spain propped himself beside me, so that he was leaning against the rail for support, smiling brightly at me.

Selfish glee at hearing him filled me, as he said that. Are you enjoying your birthday? I hid the smug glee at hearing that with a shrug, answering him while never taking my eyes off the moon who smiled down at me. "I don't know. Are you sure it's even my birthday?" The words left my lips with a sour frown. I couldn't help it.

Spain kept on smiling, oblivious to my inner turmoil. "You know, little Ita was looking for you. I convinced him to leave it to me to find you." He glanced around the shadowed balcony. "You chose a great place to hide!" I glanced at him, raising an eyebrow. "It feels lonely out here, looking at the people on the inside, and yet none of them sees you…" The elder met my eyes, smiling simmering down to a knowing smirk.

"…" Ah, I see now. He came out here to convince me to try and join the party. With a small scoff, I returned to stare out into the darkness of the woods, and in the brink beyond the dark woods were the city lights that seemed to connect the sky and earth. "…I'm not going back in there." I stated firmly.

He laughed. "It was worth a try." Spain turned so that he was facing the direction I was facing. We stayed silent for a while, both of us not saying anything. It felt awkward, but I felt no urge to say anything.

Spain was always there. Every year, he was there, even if I did try to hide away from the birthday parties, from the people, he always found me. Once, I remember asking why the hell he was so fucking creepy at finding me, he only replied with a small smile and hugs me, saying something muffled into my hair that I couldn't make out. After that, I didn't try to hide from him anymore, only revoking his invites to come and join the party set out for Italia.

And each year, we have these quiet moments of just being there. At last, I glanced at him with a sigh. "You know…you could go back in there. I'm fine out here by myself." Spain sent a surprised look at me, making me look away.

"…I'm not going back unless you're with me." He said, smiling back to his cheery self. Spain wrapped an arm around my shoulders, pulling me close to his side, letting his head rest on mine. "And if you don't want to go back in there, then I don't either."

There are times where I hate myself for being so damn stubborn and regret in making choices that result in me being alone half the time. Along with those times, there is this, where there is someone who is holding me, making me realize that I'm not alone as I originally thought, willing to be alone with me. It leaves me conflicted, wanting to do nothing more than push him away, but he keeps on coming back like a cold.

I let him hold me, not wanting him to grow bored of trying to get me back into the party, realizing that he was probably missing fun times by wasting time with me. Maybe I could go back in the party, just for him, so he could enjoy it, even if I don't.

As I was just about to suggest that we'd go back in, it felt like he was leaning rather heavily against me, as if he was slowly falling down on top of me. I tried to support his weight, we both slid to the ground. His head was resting halfway on my lap, and on the ground, staring up at the sky. "What the fuck, bastard? Get off of me!"

"But I'm so tired, Roma." Spain whined, and I sighed, a small smile on my lips as he shifted his position to render himself more comfortable as a person can get on the stone balcony. With a glance at the party, then at the daydreaming Spain, I closed my eyes and let myself to a moment of calm serenity.

Maybe next year

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