Love the enemy

Love the enemy

Author: J-J-ANIME-ROCKS PMWho would think that Feliciano and Lovino Vargas, the children of the leader of the Italian mafia would fall in love, impossible right? well read this and find out. Sexual suggestions non-detailed yaoi and violence. Spamano and Gerita and maybe hints of other pairings, but who knows!- J.RRated: Fiction M - English - Romance/Crime - Spain & S. Italy/Romano - Words: 681 - Reviews: 1 - Favs: 1 - Follows: 3 - Published: 08-03-12 - id: 8388311

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Disclaimer: I do not own the loveliness that is hetalia if I did it would have A LOT of fan service.

"Well that shits done." Lovino said while wiping blood from his hands.

"Ve that was easier than the last one we needed to take out." His brother, Feliciano mentioned.

"Yeah."( Well no shit that man was fucking huge!) Lovino thought to himself as his brother took out his phone and checked if there was any one else they needed to "take out"

"Ve Lovino it looks like we're free for now all my phone says is we need to use alias."

Taking out his phone, Lovino began to read the details that his brother had left out.

In Italian it read:

Lovino, Feliciano

The police are on to us make sure you don't use you're real names and try to avoid anything to do with them, Capiche? – Romulus

…Shit… this would make it harder for him and his brother, but it couldn't be helped.

Lovino snapped his phone shut, and walked towards the exit of the building they were in, his brother in tow.

The brothers tipped their hats down making sure that nobody was around before stepping outside into the warm sun.

"Listen fratellino you're going to use the alias Veneciano while i'll use Romano got that?" Lovino whispered while keeping pace with his younger brother.

"Si"

Fuck..shit.. Lovino internally swore as they calmly walked past a police officer, who didn't seem too focused.

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Rounding a corner they quickly (but calmly) walked to Feliciano's sleek black Ferrari.

After getting in they clicked their seatbelts into place, started up the car and started driving.

The ride was quick, and fortunately they had gotten home before anyone saw them.

Lovino stepped out of the car, slamming the door behind him, his brother did the same, before locking the vehicle.

Lovino waited as his brother made his way to the front door, quickly following him in once it was open.

Feliciano instantly ran up the stairs to change, leaving Lovino down stairs.

"Papa!" Lovino called out wondering if his father was here or working with the mafia.

Finding no answer he locked the front door and ran up stairs.

"Oh dios mio!" He groaned flopping down onto his bed.

Fuck.. If he and his brother had to do this again he would seriously flip-shit.

Standing up again he walked to his dresser and picked out clothes that were more casual.

Quickly he stripped himself of his "work" clothes and replaced them with skinny jeans, a white button up dress shirt, a black blazer , a black tie that he loosely tied, and a fedora.

Walking into the hallway Lovino slipped on dark shades and went to the bathroom to inspect his choice.

Lovino stared at the full body mirror in front of him inspecting every aspect of his outfit.

"Hmm…" he spun around one more time, making sure he looked good from all sides.

"I guess it'll have to do."

Once more he walked into the hallway, and headed down to the living room, where both of his younger brothers were waiting.

"Ve! Look Savino's back!" Feliciano chimed when he walked in.

"Oh really? "

"Si!"

Lovino examined all three of them noticing that they were almost identical. But there were differences, like : Feliciano had a scarf around his neck, and Savino had a gold chain with a cross on it around his, the color was different too where Lovino had dark colors, Feliciano was multi coloured and Savino chose pale colours.

"You're finally back?"

Savino grinned at Lovino , "I'm back for good!"

"So can we go now?" Feliciano asked from behind Savino.

"Yeah."

Lovino grabbed the keys and proceeded to follow his younger brothers out of the house.

Slamming and locking the door behind him, he walked to the car hopped in the drivers seat, started the engine and drove.

Hey! Sorry for the wait!

Savino is by the way Seborga just so you know.

See ya next chapter!

An eye for an eye

Author: 6felikspolska9 PMRomano is once again mad at Spain but this time for good measure; he forgot his


http://www.fanfiction.net/u/4211767/6felikspolska9

fucking birthday! Latvia's attempts to remedy the situation ends with a punch to the face and a very creepy Russia in search of revenge. After all no one touches Russian property, including angry Italians. Warnings inside.Rated: Fiction M - English - Hurt/Comfort/Horror - Spain & S. Italy/Romano - Chapters: 6 - Words: 3,535 - Reviews: 3 - Favs: 2 - Follows: 1 - Updated: 08-25-12 - Published: 08-23-12 - Status: Complete - id: 8458510

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Short chapter is short. -_- well anyways, this is being written as a birthday present for my bestist friend my Lithuania! Happy 14th man!

WARNING: This is rated M for a reason. Frankly I don't care about the rule don't read if you're under 18 so go ahead if you want to. I mean I'm the one writing this. So have fun underage viewers! But seriously this has yaoi meaning BoyxBoy. Don't like, don't read.

Okay so I'm sure you guys probably want to get to reading now so I'll shut up. See you at the bottom! X3

~Chapter One: Mistake~

"I hate you, fucking Tomato Bastard!" Everyone in the summit meeting room flinched at the loud voice as a chair scraped back and Romano was looming over Spain. And he looked pissed. Not all that different from usual actually.

"Aw come on, Lovi~, what'd I do?" Spain whined.

"You know very well what you did Bastardo!"

"Ve~ Must you fight in the meeting Fratello?" Italy asked, putting a calming hand on his brother's shoulder. Romano only shook him off.

"You're DEAD Spain!" Romano launched himself at the older nation, missing as Spain leaped out of his chair.

"I honestly don't know what I did!" Spain dodged another punch as they darted around the room.

"Hey, g-guys, you sh-should r-r-really stop f-f-fighting p-p-p-please?" Latvia stepped in between them and held out his arms.

"DAMNIT SPAIN!" Romano's fist finally connected… with Latvia's face. The small nation fell to the ground and immediately everyone went quiet, except for Romano, who was blaming Spain for not putting his face in front of Romano's fist apparently.

Russia's face darkened and Lithuania inched away from him, knowing that look. It had been directed at him once… once or twice, he was used to consequences by then. He stared sadly at Romano. "sekmes, tu idiotas" He whispered.

Author's note:

MY COMPUTER WON'T TYPE THE SUPERSCRIPT DOT E! Well whatever. It won't type any other accents for that matter. *Casual table flip* I would be



happy for reviews since this is my first Hetalia fic! X3 I hope you like it! Also if I get any translations wrong blame Google translate.

Translations: bastardo – bastard

Sekmes - Good luck

Tu idiotas – you idiot

An eye for an eye

Author: 6felikspolska9 PMRomano is once again mad at Spain but this time for good measure; he forgot his fucking birthday! Latvia's attempts to remedy the situation ends with a punch to the face and a very creepy Russia in search of revenge. After all no one touches Russian property, including angry Italians. Warnings inside.Rated: Fiction M - English - Hurt/Comfort/Horror - Spain & S. Italy/Romano - Chapters: 6 - Words: 3,535 - Reviews: 3 - Favs: 2 - Follows: 1 - Updated: 08-25-12 - Published: 08-23-12 - Status: Complete - id: 8458510

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Well. I'm uploading these fast. I have no life. T-T …And Toris' birthday is... shit, tomorrow. I'm doomed. I totally waited till the last minute to do this. Whatever. Enjoy chapter two!

WARNING: This is rated M for a reason, and contains yaoi, meaning BoyxBoy. Don't like don't read. There will be lemons in later chapters so seriously. Beware.

~Chapter Two: Captured~

Romano sat with his back to Spain, sulking.

"Come on Lovi, tell me what's up." The Spaniard scooted closer to him. "What'd I do?"

"If you don't know that's even worse." Romano put his palms on Spain's chest and pushed him away again.

"But Roma-"

"Just shut up and leave me alone, bastard!" Romano didn't turn around as the bed shifted and the door opened and closed. He dared a glance behind him and saw that Spain had gone. He felt happy that the Spaniard had heeded his request. He wasn't sad at all that he'd left without trying harder to find out what was wrong. He wasn't sad at all… Romano buried his face in his knees. "It's alright that he forgot my birthday. After all, it's Feli's birthday too and he deserves all the people at his birthday. I don't even care that they all forgot. It's not like I care about the stupid bastard anyways…can't even read the atmosphere."





Romano heard the door open again. "Didn't I tell you to leave me alone?" he questioned without turning around, malice in his tone.

No reply. Only footsteps.

"Seriously, Antonio. Get the hell out-" Romano stiffened as something cold pressed against his neck.

" Is not nice to talk to guests this way, da?"

FUCK

Spain sat down dejectedly on his bed in his room. "What'd I do wrong? I thought I could do this, but…" He stuffed his hand into his pocket and came out with a small velvet box. "He was just so angry at me that if I tried he would only reject me. Who am I kidding? It's not a surprise he hates me. I should have just gotten a normal present for his birthday. Like, I dunno, tomatoes. He loves tomatoes." Mmmm I could go for some tomatoes and paella and churros…some churros would cheer me up.

Spain flipped open the lid of the box to reveal the silver band inside. He smiled slightly as he imagined all the hopes the ring held for him. "Te amo, Lovi." He closed the box and shoved it back into his pocket before hearing the door open.

"Is that you Lovi? Look I'm sorry about whatever I did, I just…" It was not his Italian at his door. "Oh, hey Russia. What's up?"

"It looks like not your spirits, comrade." Russia replied. Spain hung his head.

"No. I guess not." He raised his head to meet the Russian's-innocent but not innocent-eyes.

"Do you vant to do something fun, comrade?" Spain blinked a couple of times. Russia was asking him to do something? That sounded fun even though everyone else avoided him like the Plague.

"It depends, what is it?" Spain stood up and walked over to the Russian.

He saw the bag behind Russia, the shape of a body hidden inside, before everything went dark.

Well. Again, creepy mister Russia time. Beware, there will be horrible sadism in either the next chapter or the one after that. So yeah. I hope you enjoy the makings of my bat shit crazy mind!

Hasta manana~!

Feliks

An eye for an eye


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Yeah, I'm back. Again. Well all I really have to say is that this chapter has rape. Don't like don't read.

~Chapter Three: Revenge~

What's going on? Where am I? Romano struggled to open his eyes, though it didn't make a difference. Everything was dark. "Ugh, what happened?" His arms were numb and when he tried to move them he realized they were tied together. The rope scratched at his wrists as he attempted to sit up, discovering he couldn't move his legs either; they were strapped into a kneeling position.

"Romano? Is that you?" He heard shuffling off to his right.

"Spain?" Romano squinted, trying to make out anything in the black.

"Yeah, it's me."

"What the hell? What did you get us into this time you stupid bastard? Another fucking debt crisis or something?" Romano snapped.

"Ah, but it is you who brought this down, comrade." Romano whipped his head towards the voice.

"Who's there? Show yourself bastard!" He yelled.

The lights flashed on and Romano was blinded for a moment before his eyes adjusted. "You!" he growled. Russia stood over them; grinning his creepy, childish grin.

"Hello comrade!" he laughed. "How are you?"

"Bad. Angry. Let me go! It's obviously Spain's fault." Romano growled. Spain said nothing, only stared at the floor.

"Ah, but this is no vay to treat a host, da?" Russia crouched down on his haunches in front of the angry Italian. His face turned dark and the smile disappeared. "There should be respect." He grabbed Romano's hair and threw him to the side.

"Lovino!" Spain exclaimed. Russia shot a look at him and stood up.

"Vill there be any other little outbursts?"

The two countries stayed silent.





"Good. Now, do you know vy you are here?" Both shook their heads in fear. "It is because you-" He pointed to Romano "- trampled my flower."

"What are you talking about?" He spat.

"Latvia," Russia growled, "you hurt him. So now, I shall hurt your flower."

"Who, Spain?" Romano asked, "There's nothing between us, if you think I don't hate his guts you're an idiota." Romano didn't notice Spain's shoulders hunch slightly at his words.

"All of the countries can tell, comrade. It is more obvious than why Amerika walks with a limp whenever he goes to meet with England." Russia said.

"Well then all of you must be idiotas." Romano shrugged, not denying the hickies he'd seen on the American's neck.

"I suppose you would not mind me doing this then?" Suddenly, Russia was kneeling behind Spain, holding a knife to the country's throat.

"Don't!" Romano yelped and snapped his mouth shut as Russia chucked darkly.

"Knew it." He set the knife down and shoved the Spaniard back down to the floor.

"You're fucking insane." Romano growled, "Let us go."

"I think not, comrade." Russia pulled down Spain's pants and the country's eyes widened.

"H-Hey, what are you doing?" Spain asked, struggling against the Russian's strong grip pinning him to the floor.

"Hurting Romano's flower." Russia growled. He unzipped his own pants and pulled out his throbbing member.

"Stop it!" Spain yelled, panic showing in his eyes. "Get away!"

"Don't hurt him!" Romano cried out, biting his lip. "I'm the one you're angry at, why are you fucking hurting Spain?"

"It's an eye for an eye comrade." Russia entered and Spain screamed. He immediately moved, not giving the squirming nation any mercy.

"Stop it stop it stop it! Mi Dios!" Spain cried, "Por favor, espero!" His pleas went unnoticed as the Russian continued to move.

"ANTONIO!" Romano screamed, "YOU MOTHERFUCKING RUSSIAN BASTARD!" His stomach reeled at the sight of the country that had raised him writhing and crying on the ground underneath the Russian. The country he had laughed with, played with, fought with… the country who broke his heart. He shook his head; that was a long time ago. "Just stop. Please. You don't need to hurt him when it's my burden."

"L-Lovi…" Spain gasped, almost forgetting the pain at Romano's words.

"Let him go and I'll do whatever you want." Romano averted his eyes from Spain's; he couldn't bear to see the hurt in them.

"But this is vat I vant," Russia laughed, not at all phased by the situation, "to hurt you mentally and emotionally."

"All I did was punch the kid! Do I or Spain really deserve this?" Romano choked out.

"There is no mercy with Mother Russia you see." he laughed. Spain whimpered as Russia pulled out, leaving the broken form on the floor. The Russian looked almost sad. Almost.

"There is only hatred."

Okay... creepy Russia here. Yeah, whatever I don't think that this chapter turned out that well, but seriously, I guess we'll see what you guys think. Reviews make me happy people! X3

An eye for an eye


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Alright, so yeah, three chapters in one day right? Honestly I have to upload the entire thing between today and tomorrow so anyone actually reading this is in luck I guess. Well anyways, read on peoples.

~Chapter Four: Betrayal~

Spain lay on the floor, shaking violently. Romano could only watch the country cry silently as Russia walked away from him towards Romano. He looked down, but Russia wrenched his chin up so he was forced to look the smiling nation in the eyes. "That vas not so bad, da?"

"You need to be locked up in a fucking insane asylum bastard." Romano muttered.

"Oh?" Russia tilted his head innocently, "How so?"

"Is that a fucking trick question? You fucking raped Spain! He didn't do anything wrong!" Romano yelled angrily.

"Ah, but this morning you were yelling at him about doing something wrong, what was that about?"

Romano's eyes widened. "W-Well, I… ah, I-"

"Vas there even a real reason? Vas it a good one? Because that's vy you are here."Romano averted his gaze from the Russian's.





"He forgot my birthday." Romano muttered, shoulders slumped.

"I didn't… forget… Roma…" Spain said, "I just, couldn't think… of a good time… to give you… your gift."

Romano looked over at the Spaniard, his back was to Romano. "W-What?"

"I was going… to ask you… never mind. It doesn't really… matter now anyways." Russia stared at Spain thoughtfully.

"I think I get it." He untied Spain's hands and pulled off the country's jacket. He checked all the pockets until he seemed to find what he was looking for. "How sweet!" He pulled out a small, black, velvet box. "He was going to ask you to marry him!"

Romano stared at Spain confusedly. "But I thought you didn't care about me. I mean, after that night…" Romano bit his lip.

"You mean, the night I raped you." Spain sighed bitterly.

"What are you talking about? You never did that!" Romano stared desperately at Spain, trying to figure out what he meant.

"The night I came home drunk and… I-I'm sorry," Romano could hear tears in the Spaniard's voice, "I never meant to hurt you, I just-"

"You IDIOT!" Spain pushed himself up onto his elbows so he could see Romano, there were tears running down his face.

"Look, I'm sorry! Please forgive me Romano!"

"There's nothing to forgive bastard! I let you do that to me because I love you too! I thought you didn't even remember what happen that night because you were drunk and it fucking hurt! Why the hell didn't you ever mention it?!" Romano screamed.

"I-I thought th-that you would be angry and so-" He stopped and stared at Romano, "You… love me too?"

Romano's face reddened. "Yes bastard so fucking acknowledge it! I'll marry you!"

Russia silently watched their exchange and smiled, he could use this to his advantage.

Hell, I dunno how this chapter turned out... but it's short again. -_- whatever, I hope you liked it.

An eye for an eye

Author: 6felikspolska9 PMRomano is once again mad at Spain but this time for good measure; he forgot his fucking birthday! Latvia's attempts to remedy the situation ends with a punch to the face and a very creepy Russia in search of revenge. After all no one touches Russian property, including angry Italians. Warnings inside.Rated: Fiction M - English - Hurt/Comfort/Horror - Spain & S. Italy/Romano -




Chapters: 6 - Words: 3,535 - Reviews: 3 - Favs: 2 - Follows: 1 - Updated: 08-25-12 - Published: 08-23-12 - Status: Complete - id: 8458510

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Hey~ I'm back with chapter 5! Yeah last minute but whatever. Hope you like ths chapter!

"Oh Romano~" Romano looked up angrily at the Russian.

"The fuck do you want now?" he growled.

"Vell I vanted to say that this is all vell and good, but you are still here with me and I've decided this scene is too happy for my liking, so I plotted a way to fix that!" Russia walked over to Spain "So here's vat vill happen," he whispered, "either you rape this one-" he pointed to Romano.

"No way!" Spain hissed.

"Or I will." Spain hesitated and stared at Romano. "Make a choice, comrade."

"I-I don't want to hurt him." Spain hung his head.

"I see. You've made your choice then." Russia stood up.

"No wait! I'll-I'll do it." Spain chokes out and a Russian smirk made itself known.

"Whatever you wish." He said. Russia knelt back down and untied the ropes around Spain's legs. "Go ahead then, if you really can do it."

Spain shakily got to his feet and limped over to Romano. "What did he say?" Romano asked. "…Spain?"

"I'm sorry Roma." Spain muttered, trying hard not to cry.

"What are you doing?" Romano asked. Spain gently pulled down the Italian's pants and boxers, avoiding Romano's eyes. "Spain?" fear was creeping into his voice, "Seriously, stop."

"I love you, Lovino. " Spain pressed his mouth to Romano's and the country's eyes widened. Romano gasped and Spain stuck his tongue in, swirling around the Italian's to distract him as he pressed a finger into the other's entrance. Romano jerked away and broke their kiss.

"Stop it Spain!" He exclaimed.

"I'm sorry, I have to do this, Lovi." Spain traced his tongue along Romano's jaw line before nipping and sucking at his neck, leaving prominent red marks on the Italian's fair skin. He ran his fingers through Romano's hair and pulled lightly on the one curl that always stuck out.

"Ngh… Spain…" Romano moaned loudly and leaned his head back against the Spaniard's chest. Spain inserted a second finger and began to scissor Romano's entrance. Romano let out another moan and Spain could feel himself getting hard. He reached around to the younger country's front and grabbed the half erect


member, pumping it at a fast pace to keep the others mind off what was about to happen. He pulled his fingers out and Romano whined needily.

"It's-hah-alright." Spain aligned himself with Romano's entrance and pushed in the head of his erection. Romano's body went ridged and he cried out in pain. "Tell me when it's okay." Romano gulped and nodded his head. Spain pushed in until he was fully sheathed inside the smaller country, waiting for him to adjust before he slowly began to move. He pulled all the way out, then shoved back in.

"AH! SPAIN!" Romano yelped as the other thrust into him. Spain held Romano's face gently as he set a moderate pace and turned Romano's head to face him. He laughed at the flushed look on Romano's face and crashed their lips together lustfully, moaning into the other's mouth. When they came apart Romano pressed his lips to the Spaniard's ear and breathed, "Ti amo, Spain."

"Te amo, Lovi~." Spain replied. Several thrusts later, they came together, almost able to forget the Russian sitting in the corner, still watching them.

Hey... so yeah, I enjoyed writing this chapter X3 so I guess yeah, chapter 6 will be up in a few minutes. Ja!

An eye for an eye


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Hey so this'll be the final chapter. Thanks for the reviews and stuff! Have fun!

"Vell I think it's my turn!"

"You told me you wouldn't hurt him!" Spain growled. He'd only done it cause he loved Lovino!

"Did I ever say that? No. I said you do or I vould, I said nothing about aftervards."

Spain strained against the ropes that bound his hands again, wishing he could only do something. "Romano…"

Russia looked over at the Spaniard and sighed, "I'm off." He announced.

"You're just leaving us?" Spain spat.

"Vould you rather I stay?"





He kept silent as the Russian walked out the door and switched off the lights, leaving the two countries in the dark. "…Are you okay, Romano?"

"Fuck no bastard." Came a voice from somewhere in the room.

Spain laughed despite himself and said, "Still fine enough to swear though I see."

"Shut up."

Spain shook his head and looked towards the doorway; faint light was filtering through this time, allowing his eyes to adjust to the darkness. "Was there light there before, Lovi?"

"Why's it matter?" came the glum reply.

"Because it means someone's there!" Spain exclaimed. "HEY! HELP!"

"Shut up you idiot! What if it's that bastard Russia? He's just gonna fucking punish you for trying to get away!" Romano hissed.

The door opened and someone stood in the doorway. Spain squinted, trying to make out who it was…

"HEY! HELP!" Prussia stared at the door. Mein Gott, anything but this, he thought. He knew who's room that was; it was Russia's, the only one who can strike fear into his awesome heart.

"Shut up you idiot!..." Prussia sighed, definitely Spain and Romano. If it was his friend, then why was he having so much trouble reaching out to open the door?

"Prussia!" Spain laughed, "Hell if I'm not glad to see you!" Prussia ran over and embraced his friend. "Amigo, I'm fine, what's up?"

"Don't lie Spain." Spain was shocked at Prussia's tone and didn't know how to respond, he only smiled and nodded.

"Great, hug time over, could you untie us?"

Leave it to Romano to destroy the mood. Prussia immediately went back to awesome mode.

"Yeah sure, the awesome me will totally save you two alright?" Prussia cut through their ropes with a dagger and led the two countries into the hallway. "Everyone's been looking for you two, you weren't at the meeting this morning and you weren't in your rooms either."

"Yeah, we were locked up in a bat shit crazy Russian's room." Romano muttered angrily. Spain automatically felt for the ring in his pocket, did Romano really mean what he'd said? That he would marry me? Spain laughed and left the little box where it was.

"You're so funny Lovi~!" he grinned at the ruffled looking Italian.

"Shut up bastard!" Romano huffed and looked away, a blush dusting his cheeks.

Spain laughed harder and pulled the younger country into a hug. "So cute!" Maybe someday, but for today I think I'll leave things as they are… Even after what happened, life goes on, right? So I can save this for another day I think.

So yeah, final chapter. For anyone who cares, I'm making a prequal of this with Prussia and the Berlin Wall so yeah. Ja!

We All Fall Down

Author: PoodlePop PMWhen the whole world falls victim to a biological weapon developed in northeast asia can anyone help before the aftermath wipes off the entirety of the globe? Slight Spamano. Will involve other suggested pairings; FRUK, USUK, RUSAME, FRAIN, FRANADA, ETC.Rated: Fiction M - English - Tragedy/Hurt/Comfort - Spain & S. Italy/Romano - Chapters: 4 - Words: 8,335 - Reviews: 5 - Favs: 6 - Follows: 7 - Updated: 06-18-12 - Published: 11-04-11 - id: 7523236

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AN: MATURE FOR EXTREME GORE AND SENSITAVE MATERIAL. DLDR. Might be a tad depressing. A thank you to all those who put up with my pointless moaning about my writing style, I hope you can all forgive me. The following events are fictional and not based on any real political situations. Credit and thank yous go to Froggy and Gab for the storyline and to the skype/iscribble role play group for the inspiration and drive to do it all those months ago. For translations see the bottom of the fic, any corrections are welcome as I'm not a speaker of either Latin or Italian.

He had feared this would happen.

They had all feared this would happen.

China was the first major power to go. Whilst the war effort had stopped North Korean advances, it didn't take long for the virus, a biological super weapon the Koreans had developed, to spread through the larger nation. Overpopulation and the heat drove the infection south, causing a sudden burst across the neighboring countries, flooding India and the Asian sibling nations. The virus was spreading faster than nations could shut themselves off from the world, it grew out of control, and it went wild.

America had been there. America had been there from the beginning. His forces had moved on North Korea just as soon as the Chinese. It was a suicide mission, soon the men learnt that when they were infected they'd not be granted leave to home, and as men refused to fight, so the bombs began to fall.

Any hope that the Koreans had an antidote were dashed as soon as the smoke cleared.

Things fell apart even more once the Russians became involved, who had supported North Korea from the sidelines and now, in their frustration of defeat, the nation opened its arms to the virus. Some infected themselves, some gave up. Either way




http://www.fanfiction.net/u/1623946/PoodlePop

the country had become hell bent on taking down everyone they could. People for years to come would assume this was a mad man's mission, but it wasn't until they discovered the Russian's believed they had the cure, did the poor few countries who remained know why.

Security increased. Airports were closed. Countries isolated themselves for fear of contamination.

However, that only slowed the infection.

Throughout history, Europe had always been the target, always been the continent with the most conflict. So did it really make it any different now? Any different now that the power had been shifted further east and west? No... That just made Europe something different. This made Europe the space in between, this made Europe 'No man's land'.

After the infection had taken out South America, the European nations were essentially surrounded. All imports of food had to be closed off, only some of the luckier nations dared to trade between neighbours. It was only a matter of waiting before one of the countries became diseased.

It started at Turkey, immigrants fleeing from the Middle East came baring the disease. People would pass on the tale of how a couple of cowards had essentially brought upon the downfall of Europe, their plague caught the Turks off guard, who had believed themselves impenetrable. Soon after Turkey, Greece fell, and the Russians got to their neighbouring former soviet states.

Belarus, Latvia, Estonia, Finland, Ukraine... They all fell.

Albania, Macedonia, Bulgaria, Serbia, Romania... They didn't stand a chance.

The panic started.

As soon as Lithuania began to fall, Poland foolishly rushed to aid. Security standards quickly became forgotten as people became crazed. Those who stayed died. Those who fled were either killed or turned away.

In the cold the virus spread slowly.

In the heat the virus thrives.

There was nothing they could do for Italy by the time anyone knew they were infected.

He had seen Mexico, seen him in the American quarantine tents, just before they burnt any remains on the Texan border where the great disaster had struck hardest. They had told him that Mexico had been shot on sight as he fled across the border; they told him that they all had. There was nothing the Americans could do and they had to make sure of their own survival too, especially after Canada's subside. He didn't blame him, but that didn't stop the agony that followed in grief.

The sight of Mexico's body hadn't been pretty. He looked starved, ribs protruding oddly through the bloodstained and tattered remains of his shirt. There were black and blue swells scattered around anywhere that hadn't already been bleeding, and any skin that did show was a grotesque shade of saturated yellow. The former

colony's hair was a mess, Spain had to hold back whatever compelled him to comb it back and scold the nation for letting it get that way, it was streaked lightly with grey and a thick crusted layer of dead skin was gathered at the roots. He couldn't look at the younger nation's face. It was almost as if the former nation of Mexico, the former New Spain, had been rotting for weeks before his death.

There was no word from Argentina, nor any of his old American colonies, and no one dared venture beyond the safe zones.

All of the Spaniard's children were gone.

All of them.

He couldn't let South Italy go too.

The other nations had called him stupid. They had yelled at him, pleaded at him to rethink, but his eyes had turned steely and he had not listened. He wasn't like the German, he wasn't going to stand there and watch as Italy fell. After all, wasn't it clear that there was only so much time before they would all be destroyed?

And Spain was only a stone's throw away from Africa.

Antonio wasn't sure when he'd lost hope; when he had seen so many people who still held it close. So many of his people still tried to survive, still tried to help, and still prayed desperately for a miracle. Perhaps it was when he started seeing the effects on his fellow nations, or when he started seeing friends, family, and lovers fight against each other for life; killing one another in the process. Maybe it was once the panic started, once any order which the countries could cling to crumbled beneath their fingertips.

He had heard that Portugal stopped praying the day he heard about Brazil, the same day he started to cough.

Lovino would kill him for this.

The Lovino he knew would yell at him; would tell him he's a bastard, a stupid bastard who seems to think that the other needs his help. He would look at him with a fire in his eyes, a fire that could easily be confused for hate, for anger, for disgust. However, the Spanish nation knew him better than that. He had, after all, spent years, decades, centuries protecting the Italian nation, guiding the smaller country, supporting him and loving him.

This was not the Italy brother he knew, this Italy was dying.

Spain found them together, the grand walls and roof of the Sistine Chapel rising high above them, untouched by the decay of the modern world. For a moment everything was normal as Antonio's eyes swept across the fine artwork that decorated the cold stone. For a moment he was taken back, he could still remember the smell of the paint, see the bubbling excitement that was clear in Romano's young face, and the red that slowly spread across it when he realised what was being painted.

He looked so different now. He hadn't just grown, he had aged, and rapidly too.

It had been easy to tell there was something wrong, and not just by the field of bodies that scattered across the roads outside the Vatican. The fact that the majority appeared to be suicides was what had alarmed him most. The city was like a ghost town, there were no survivors, or at least none visible, he hoped. The Spaniard panicked. Was he too late? Was everyone already dead?

It was so quiet.

The chapel door had been barricaded; a small litter of cardinals lay about it as though they were useless dolls, cold hands still appearing to claw at the door even in death. Antonio did not try the door, instead making his way around the building, searching for a window, a side door, anything that he could break through. By the time he had found his way in he could already feel fatigue approaching, there wasn't long, and everything was silent, too silent.

His footsteps had echoed across the vast open space as he walked towards the aisle. Every time his sole made contact with the marble floor felt like a hard swallow, he felt like something was clenching tighter and tighter to his gut.

He had then noticed the blood.

There was blood on the floor.

And then he heard the chanting.

His heart began racing, pounding, beating against his ribcage. The Spaniard's head snapped up from the floor, trying desperately to locate the faint sound before it disappeared. Where was it? Who was it? Was Lovino here? Was he safe? Was he okay?

Hurrying down the aisle, feet faltering on the horrifying liquid, Spain barely made it to the gateway standing.

"...istam sanctan unctionem..."

The voice sent chills down his spine. It was raw, it was hoarse, it sounded like every sound it uttered was ripping a new hole in the speaker's body.

"...piissimam misericordiam..."

The Spaniard stared, ahead of him was the altar, its regal decorations scattered across the floor and the table cloth tugged away. It looked like there had been a struggle, something had happened, something important. Antonio's heart skipped a beat.

"... Dominus"

Only just in view, poking out from behind the alter, he could just about see a pair of bruised, unclothed feet.

"Per istam sanctan unctionem et suam piissimam misericordiam, indulgeat tibi Dominus"

Someone was moving Antonio's legs.

Some ungodly power had pushed the nation forward, or rather pulled him, down the aisle towards the altar. It must have been some other force, because the Spaniard felt he couldn't move an inch. Yet there he was, marching slowly towards the scene. He couldn't breathe, he couldn't blink, he couldn't even swallow as tonnes upon tonnes of dread fell on his heart.

He had been too late, hadn't he...?

He was now alone, wasn't he...?

The closer he got, the better he could see the damage. The blood from the entrance had intensified to the point he was sure he saw a large puddle of the liquid and, Antonio took a moment to gag, a sickly mess of grey bile and mucus mixed among it. The altar's cloth had smears of blood where it had been tugged at, there was a knife glistening ominously amongst the folds.

"...Requescant in pace..."

Something inside the Spaniards mind brought him back to reality.

Where was the chanting coming from?

"... R.." The brunette tested his voice, barely above a whisper. "...Romano...?"

There was silence.

"...ques... cant in..." There was a heavy cough and perhaps a sob that seemed to reverberate around the walls for an eternity. "-pace..."

Whoever it was who was here, they were alive, if they were a citizen of Italy that meant that Romano could be alive too. And if it weren't a citizen of Italy, then it could only be the one he was here looking for.

With this new affirmation of hope, the Spanish nation took a few hurried steps until he was around the altar and looking directly down at—

It wasn't Romano's feet he had seen, though the poor nation was there, clinging desperately to the clothes of the other behind the altar.

It wasn't South Italy.

"Che cazzo ci fai qui?" The brunette's head snapped around and he leapt back, scrambling somewhat to his feet, cursing as he left the other body exposed and then exploding into a ringing chorus of choking coughs.

It was the other one...

It was Feliciano.

The image of the North Italian's fresh body had barely burnt into his mind before he found himself being shoved back. Slipping on the sea of crimson liquid, Antonio fell back gasping deep gulps of breath, the shock shaking his entire body.

"Prendi il cazzo via da qui! Non avvicinarti! Immondo! Heathen!"

The former Spanish empire's eyes leapt up to the face of his assailant, his dear Romano, and he almost cried out in horror. If the sound of his voice hadn't been enough to let dread creep over him then the gaunt, grey skin and blood smeared face of his former protectorate had been. The poor boy's eyes were darkened, a sickly mix of yellow and crimson red contrasted revoltingly against his once beautiful hazel iris', and they appeared to have sunk into his skull so far that he had permanent rings of black around them. His cheeks were hollowed and ghastly, allowing the cheekbones to protrude out at an ugly angle. And those lips, those lips that the Spaniard had spent his life longing to kiss, were cracked, bloodied and torn at the sides, one of which had become infected and was excreting a puss like substance with every movement of the other's lips.

"Lo non ti lascerò lo porti da me, non voglio! Ha bisogno del vostro aiuto! Ha solo bisogno di me! Ti aiuto io! I'll do it better! Ci arriveremo attraverso questo! Basta guardare, non abbiamo bisogno del vostro aiuto! "

The voice was quiet and hoarse beyond belief, yet its intention was screamed through Antonio's head. Each word was like a last breath, gasping and barely audible. Some words weren't heard at all, Romano's mouth forming the speech yet none would come out of the boy. The very sight, the very sound, made Spain want to cry.

The Italian's eyes had a gaze of crazed fury. It wasn't the kind Antonio was used to, this looked like genuine anger, twisted, unhinged, but genuine anger. As he let the words echo endlessly in his mind the Spaniard forced himself to his feet, aware that Lovino would probably attempt to attack him again if he so much as moved from his spot.

"Sono il fratello più grande, quindi dovrei badare a lui! Se sei cazzo mi ascolta? "

There was a desperation that Spain had never known in the other's voice. The demands seemed to be told as if the other's very existence depended on it.

Antonio's eyes fell back on the other Italy, whose body was soaked in blood, crusted in places. Oh Romano, he thought pitifully, how long have you been over his body repeating his last rites? The wounds on the Italian however, were not generated by the disease, they appeared self inflicted. Spain remembered the knife, and pieces began to fall into place.

He stepped forward.

"Non toccarlo!"The ghostly form of Lovino screamed, voice actually giving his emotion justice for once before breaking in to another tearing rapture of coughing. "Tu ... tu lo... ammazzo!"

Sadness gripped the elder nation's heart, and he felt as though someone had reached inside and torn it away from him. Feliciano had clearly been dead for hours if not a day.

"Roma..." The old nickname sticking even in such circumstances, "He's not... Feliciano he's-"

"Non è morto!" The Italian's sudden scream, stilled the Spaniard's tongue. "Lui non è! Lui non lo è! Stai zitto! Stai zitto! Stai zitto! Stai zitto!"

Romano's hands flew up to his ears, screaming the same words again and again until he made no sound at all. Blood seeped from his abused lips and fell to the floor

as he continued to scream in his mind. Then the young nation's body seized up, eyes flinging wide open and he fell to the floor, coughing turned to retching and it wasn't soon before more blood decorated the chapel.

Spain wanted to help but found he couldn't do a thing but watch.

It felt like an eternity before the cries finally ceased.

"Roma... Romano..." Antonio's horrified eyes finally moved from the space they'd unfocused at and glued to the Italian's arched back. His only response was harsh breathing, filling the humid, stale smelling air. The Spaniard moved to him, crouching beside him, more concerned for the victim than the foul hot liquid seeping into the knees of his trousers. "Shh... Romano... I-I'm here... "

The older man reached out apprehensively to touch the boy's shoulder. He wanted to comfort him.

A hand twisted its way up to stop him, bony and dry. Spain noticed the skin had become rough under his fingers, some dead parts flaked away from his touch, but any new flesh that was discovered was just as old as the rest.

The yells started again, even in the nation's present state.

"Scappare. Vattene via! Non ho bisogno di aiuto, non abbiamo bisogno di aiuto. Andate via! Chiudi il becco." His cries were weaker now, hoarser and dryer. Spain wished he'd brought aid, some water, some medicine, something. He wished he'd brought at least something to ease his little boy's pain.

The curses and stream of words continued, like a record on repeat. Somehow Antonio managed to get the boy to lie in his arms, making it a little more comfortable for the aching, rotting body of the great kingdom of two Scillies. The man was finally crying, silent tears falling from his face as he watched Romano stare up at the ceiling, muttering words that should be yells.

"Gli ho detto di non farlo. Gli dissi che avrebbe ottenuto sangue dappertutto, e avrei dovuto pulirlo. Gli ho detto quando è stato fatto sarebbe dispiaciuto, sarebbe stato chiesto il mio aiuto. Ha detto che non gli importava. Ha detto che avrebbe preferito morire, ma ... perché? Non poteva vedere come stavo lavorando duramente per farlo rimanere in vita? Ha cercato di uscire, ha cercato di scappare, eh. Beh, una volta che ha capito che non poteva, si fermò a provare. Afferrò il coltello e ha iniziato a fare una bella immagine per me. Ama la pittura. Ha detto che voleva dipingere la cappella tutta di nuovo. Così ha fatto. Io lo guardavo. Egli non si alzò. E 'ora di riposo, la siesta ... mi ha detto di stare sveglio ... Mi ha detto di fare la guardia. "

The mumbling began to turn delirious; Romano started talking about the oddest of things afterwards. His coughing grew worse and soon his voice was barely audible over a whisper, and he was practically screaming his words.

"Romano, Vuoi... startene... z-zitto per un momento?" The Spaniard tried, hoping the Italian would get through to his Romano, get him to stop the insane chattering.

"Dov'è la Spagna? Egli sarebbe stato qui per me, si sarebbe preso cura di me. Ha mi ha lasciato? Perché mi lasci qui? Non sa che fa male?"

If it was possible for his heart to break more, it did.

Did Lovino not recognise him?

"L... Lovi... I'm here... I-I-I'm right... here..." He clung to the brunette's brittle feeling shoulders, shaking him slightly, trying to wake him from his delirium. "I'm... right... here, Lovino."

But the muttering continued, and Romano's eyes were distant, they were staring straight past Spain.

"Fa male, fa male, Spagna. Per favore, aiutatemi. Vieni e mi aiuta ..."

He wanted to scream at him, bring him back to reality. Don't do this, don't do this Romano, the voice of his thoughts cried in grief, please don't do this Lovino. He pulled the weak, almost lifeless body to his chest, and clung on tight. This was the worst of it yet, seeing his little Lovino perish before his time, and in such a disgusting manor.

The coughing started again, harsh and bone shattering. Warmth spread across Spain's chest, and he realised the other must be retching again.

He let go of Romano, allowing the other to willingly roll off him and onto his stomach, barely keeping himself off the ground with shaking limbs as the blood splattered by Spain's legs. There was a shuddering gasp for air in between coughs, and when Lovino did finally stop coughing and was steady; his breathing had a gargling noise to it.

Spain panicked yet again, pulling Romano to sit up and look him directly in the eyes. The Italian's head looked heavy as his ragged breathing continued his eyes still distant.

"Lovino... Please... listen to me... Listen to me!" The Spaniard shook him, panic overriding any form of gentleness he had in his actions. "Por... favour... escucha..."

For a second, for a moment, Antonio saw hazel eyes meet his own, flicking up to see him. He saw them dilate, saw them swim with emotion that was not hate or anger. He stared, and couldn't find the words to say, falling dead silent.

What do you say to the person you love when they're dying?

It's one of those things, one of those questions you know the answers to, but as soon as you're faced with the situation not a thing springs to mind.

The silence lengthened, broken only by the sickening sound of Romano's breathing, and then –

Romano opened his mouth, the ghastly red covered every surface within it clinging to his beautiful teeth, his beautiful tongue, his—

The mouth was forming a word.

Spain's heart stopped, it didn't matter if he could hear the words or not, he could see them, he knew what they said.

Then the Sicilian choked, once, twice, three times before coughing up another final bout of the murky blood mixture. He fell forwards, limp into Antonio's hands and the

breathing became solid gurgles of the liquid, frothing and spilling from his mouth and then—

Romano went completely limp.

Completely dead silence fell on the chapel again.

Translations:

Per istam sanctan unctionem et suam piissimam misericordiam, indulgeat tibi Dominu – Latin, The spoken acts of the last rites in Catholic Religion.

Requescant in pace – Latin, Rest in peace.

Che cazzo ci fai qui? – What the fuck are you doing here?

Prendi il cazzo via da qui! Non avvicinarti! Immondo! Heathen! – Get the fuck out of here! Don't come! Unclean! Heathen!

Lo non ti lascerò lo porti da me, non voglio! Ha no bisogno del vostro aiuto! Ha solo bisogno di me! Ti aiuto io! I'll do it better! Ci arriveremo attraverso questo! Basta guardare, non abbiamo bisogno del vostro aiuto! -I will not let you take him from me, I will not! He has no need of your help! He just needs me! I'll help him! I'll do it better! We'll get through this! Just look, we do not need your help!

Sono il fratello più grande, quindi dovrei badare a lui! Se sei cazzo mi ascolta? – I'm the older brother so I should look after him! Are you fucking listening to me!

Non toccarlo! – Don't touch him!

Tu ... tu lo... ammazzo! – You… You will… kill him!

Non è morto! – He's not dead!

Lui non è! Lui non lo è! Stai zitto! Stai zitto! Stai zitto! Stai zitto! – He's not! He's not! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!

Scappare. Vattene via! Non ho bisogno di aiuto, non abbiamo bisogno di aiuto. Andate via! Chiudi il becco. - Escape. Get away! I do not need help, we do not need help. Go away! Shut up.

"Gli ho detto di non farlo. Gli dissi che avrebbe ottenuto sangue dappertutto, e avrei dovuto pulirlo. Gli ho detto quando è stato fatto sarebbe dispiaciuto, sarebbe stato chiesto il mio aiuto. Ha detto che non gli importava. Ha detto che avrebbe preferito morire, ma ... perché? Non poteva vedere come stavo lavorando duramente per farlo rimanere in vita? Ha cercato di uscire, ha cercato di scappare, eh. Beh, una volta che ha capito che non poteva, si fermò a provare. Afferrò il coltello e ha iniziato a fare una bella immagine per me. Ama la pittura. Ha detto che voleva dipingere la cappella tutta di nuovo. Così ha fatto. Io lo guardavo. Egli non si alzò. E 'ora di riposo, la siesta ... mi ha detto di stare sveglio ... Mi ha detto di fare la guardia. " - "I told him not to do it. I told him that he would

get blood everywhere, and I would have to clean it. I told him when he was done he would be sorry, he would be asking for my help. He said he didn't care. He said he'd rather die, but... why? Couldn't he see how hard I was working to make him stay alive? He tried to get outside, he tried to escape, heh. Well, once he realised he could not, he stopped trying. He grabbed the knife and started making a pretty picture for me. He loves painting. He said he wanted to paint the entire chapel again. So he did. I watched him. He did not get up. He's resting now, taking a siesta... he told me to stay awake... he told me to keep watch."

Vuoi... startene... z-zitto per un momento? – Can …you… be quiet for a minute?

Dov'è la Spagna? Egli sarebbe stato qui per me, si sarebbe preso cura di me. Ha mi ha lasciato? Perché mi lasci qui? Non sa che fa male? – Where is Spain? He would be here for me, he would help me. Has he left me? Has he gone too? Doesn't he know it hurts?

Fa male, fa male, Spagna. Per favore, aiutatemi. Vieni e mi aiuta ... – It hurts, it hurts, Spain. Please help. Come and help me…

Por... favour... escucha... – Please, Listen.

We All Fall Down


A a Abc Abc Abc

No…

n..no…

This…

It couldn't be…

Why was this…

Happening…?

Spain stared.

He couldn't do anything else.

He was afraid of what might happen if he did.





Was Romano really…?

No…

No he couldn't be.

The denial clung like cold sweat to the Spaniard as he looked at Lovino's limp, dripping, silent form. He was still supported by Antonio's outstretched arms. Slowly, he decided to lower the body, pulling it into his bloodstained lap and cradling the figure. Not once during the movement was there a sign of life from the Italian.

"Roma…?"

The Spanish accent echoed into the silence, yet no response came. He shook the skeletal corpse.

"Roma, now's not the time to be sleeping, get up."

There were pricks tickling the corner of his eyes, he tried to blink them away and bit his trembling lip. There's no use fussing over him, he'd be up in a couple of seconds, and Spain would have to straighten up and act like the boss he was. He had to be brave, show his Romano there was nothing to worry about. After all, he would be up soon, everything would be okay, everything—

"Wake up, Romano! … Please!"

His pleading voice mumbled desperately, quivering with fear.

He shook Romano, a weak smile twitching onto his lips as he spoke, no cooed, his pleas at the carcass. He wouldn't let Romano see he was upset once he woke up. He wouldn't let the boy wake up to him thinking insane things like him drowning to death in his own blood. That was ridiculous; no one died like that, especially not nations.

He must have sat there for hours, trying to coax the Sicilian to awake.

Watching the Italian's cold face for sign of life, Antonio felt realization slowly sink through his shuddering body. He was dead. The feeling of denial was slowly stripped from his body as a chill struck the room; stifling the heat for a moment and painting it away with the cold before returning, but not at all in its once vigorous state.

He was dead.

Lovino Vargas, Romano, South Italy, was dead.

Something caught in his throat at that.

Admitting that to himself was like driving a steak through his own heart.

Finally, he allowed his face to fall and to bury his head against the deceased Italian's still chest.

That was the first day.

Anger.

It was all he felt, all he could feel.

The world became black and white to him. There was no colour, not on pristine artwork of the walls, not on the deep mahogany benches, not on the stained glass windows. There was naught except for the blood.

Questions, questions, so many questions.

Why Lovino?

How could he let this happen?

What could he have done to stop it?

Why were other people alive when the person he cared for most, the person he had spent the majority of his life protecting, the person he loved was dead?

It made him angry, beyond angry.

Throughout the day he stayed within the chapel. He switched between staying by Lovino's side, sitting on the second row of pews, and passing up and down the aisle. At one point he threw the altar cross at the wall, seething with anger, shaking uncontrollably.

He felt he was boiling up inside, and that whatever was boiling was pushing at his skin, the pressure building and building, longing to be released. He wanted to tear at it, he wanted to release the pressure, he wanted to explode, but found he couldn't.

By the end of the second day he had Lovino in an unbreakable grip, tight against his chest as his tear sore eyes searched the room for salvation.

By the end of the second day he'd begun to pray.

Using Romano's rosaries as a link to the boy he called out to the heavens he had followed devotedly through most of his life. The tiny form of man's savior, Jesus Christ, upon the cross that carried their sins rubbing against the Spaniard's thumb and forefinger as he spoke the divine words. Someone had to hear him, someone at least. He would have done anything to get an audience with the lord. Never before in his life had he wanted it this much. Not when his people were dying of the plague, not when he fought and claimed land in the name of him, nor even when his empire collapsed and fell around him, dragging Spain through hell along with it in the process.

Our Father, Jesus Christ, Virgin Mary.

He begged them for an answer, screaming until his throat went raw.

Allāh, Abraham, Muhammed.

He would give anything; his soul, his devotion, his people, his life. He would give anything in turn for the Italian to be alive, breathing, yelling at him for praying to something outside of the catholic religion.

He didn't care.

He just wanted him back.

He'd give anything.

By the third day he had given up.

He'd been exposed to the dead bodies and sickly sweet air for four days, even as a nation he was bound to have contracted the disease by now. Not that it would have made a difference, he didn't really see the point. What was his life really without Romano? He'd forgotten what he'd done before. Be owned? Fight for his country? Not a lot had mattered to him back then, everything had just been the rhythmic duties of being a country, and Lovino had been the one to make him realize he could feel.

So what was the point?

After all, he was only a stone's throw away from Africa.

He barely rose to consciousness now.

Lying beside his Italian, work weathered hand joined with the cold of the others, the kingdom of Spain drifted in and out of his dreams. Memories, happy memories of them, the two of them, the family España once had. He heard their voices, begging for him to run off and play. He heard Romano, mumbling and cursing as he buried his mouth in a tomato, his little hand clinging on to the end of Antonio's coat. And then he'd drift back to reality in this dream like state, feeling the cold crusting liquid stick to him like syrup.

At one point he heard footsteps.

At one point he heard his name.

Felt himself being pulled up.

Felt arms around him.

Saw golden hair.

Saw his friend.

His hand slipped from the Sicilian's, energy less fingertips barely brushing against the other's.

"He's dead, Francia."

AN: Unfortunately as many of my friends refuse to read through and check this for me it hasn't been beta'd, so if any mistakes crop up please help me by pointing them out~ No long translations in this one for you, It's also a hell of a lot shorter... But with good reason. I can't state how much it irritates me that I can't make the text do the things it was doing in word. So no word art and nice spacing for you. Hope you enjoyed... or not enjoyed... or whatever... I realise that this is probably the most depressing thing I've written :| But you can tell me all about your reaction in a Review~

We All Fall Down


A a Abc Abc Abc

"He's dead, Francia…"

Italy was gone.

Francis Bonnefoy had never really considered the reasons behind his and the Spaniard's obsession with the Italy brothers. Perhaps it had been their time together under the 'care' (Francis always used that term loosely) of Rome that had inspired them, perhaps it was just their big brotherly nature, but either way the pair had squabbled over them for the entirety of their youth. A small part of the Frenchman had never given up on this fight, even when the two had grown up and gained their independence, but then again it was also this small part that craved for the Spanish man's attention, and was insanely jealous of the way that he looked at Romano.

When the virus had hit, Francis was one of the first to understand the full grasp of what was going to happen. He had been through illnesses one too many times, and, being the grand centre of Europe, he'd grown accustom to getting them all one way or another. In fact, the Frenchman was pleasantly surprised by how long he had managed to last. His boss had been rather forceful and efficient in the precautions they took. When the virus had made it past turkey their country had gone back to rationing, refusing to exchange food with any other nation and putting their own supply under close observation. Their borders were always closely monitored, and their embassies were given the grand task of passing on news as to whether there had been rumours of outbreak in the other countries, any kind of exchange between those countries would effectively be impossible as soon as word reached Paris.

However, the general consensus of the people of France wasn't entirely positive. Francis had watched as his people lashed out in anger at the isolation from their neighbouring countries. Families were torn apart and businesses ruined. A large amount of religious followers spoke out against the oppression of their freedom, and hailed the coming disease as the 'lord's divine punishment over this diseased war craving world'. It was quite sickeningly humorous to the Frenchman in a way, seeing all the religions that he'd seen the world tear itself apart to appease, civilisations slaughtered and wars waged, all over the simple argument of 'my religion is better





than yours', and yet here they were on the brink of the world's destruction, banded together to welcome in the disease and cleanse the world of all sin. The irony.

"Antonio..."

Francis cradled the grief stricken man in his arms, never before in his entire existence had he seen a sight so pitiful. His clothes were crusted with blood and bile, he smelt something rotten and was covered in a thin layer of sweat. Antonio himself was relatively unharmed. True, he looked like he hadn't eaten in weeks and had barely enough energy to raise his head, but this was nothing a little bit of tender love and care wouldn't fix. The greatest wound, Francis could see, was in the male's heart.

When Antonio Fernandez Carriedo turned to look at him, his eyes were void of the life and emotion they had once been so alight with. It seemed like the muscles of his face were incapable of doing anything other than the barest of actions, and when the Spaniard's mouth twitched into a slight smile it sent shivers up the Frenchman's spine in a way he had never before experienced.

"Lovino's gone... he's gone now..." Antonio stopped to cough, his throat so incredibly dry.

Francis pulled out a bottle of water from his bag, guilt hitting him when he realised how much he had drunk of it earlier, wishing he'd saved it for the man who was clearly in more need. He popped the cap and brought it to his old friend's lips, the liquid running between their dry cracked surface and for the first time in days he drank. The blonde ran a hand through his old friend's hair, sighing a little with relief that Antonio was okay.

"Oui, Oui, mon ami... He's at peace... He's safe now..." Francis' words of comfort drifted on the sweet air, as the bottle soon emptied and he tossed it to one side, tugging Antonio up little by little in his dazed dreamlike state until he was sat. "You have to come with me now... come back to Marseille with me, oui? There is a boat waiting... we'll be able to get back within a couple of days... oui? We'll get you back and fed and—"

"Francia..." Antonio interrupted, eyes on the body of his fallen charge, a sad distant expression on his face. "I... do you think..."

"Shhh..." The Frenchman hushed his companion, pulling him closer and smiling a little in comfort, "It can wait, oui? Lets get you to somewhere safe..." He soothed the other, before attempting to stand, slinging his old friend's arm around his shoulders to support him as he lead him away from Lovino and out into the silent colossal spaces of an empty Rome.

Despite it's history, despite all of its hardships and everything it had endured, Italy had fallen. It didn't matter how big an impression you left on time and the map, in the end it was your people that mattered. If a country couldn't protect it's people then nothing would save it, and you'd either fall and be replaced by another, or disappear from existence all together. And like the grand structures and shells of buildings, you'd be nothing more than a distant memory.

Not once did Antonio look back.

~In the end, We all fall down~

AN: Sorry it took so long to update guys, I had some real trouble with Francis and how I'd get from A to B in the plot. But thankfully I finally got this chapter done. Of course, it doesn't help when your housemates refuse to allow you to write any more because it's 'too sad' BP. Again I'd like to apologise for any grammatical or spelling errors as everyone refuses to Beta this :'I

I hope you enjoy, It all kicks off in the next chapter.

We All Fall Down


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Chapter 4

It was a hot and terrible fever.

He lingered for days and days in a constant disequilibrium between his dreams and reality, though you couldn't really call them dreams. He had hot sweats and cold sweats. There were nights where he just screamed, calling out to something that was already gone, cursing the entire of existence and yelling to things that didn't exist. He began feverishly reciting Latin prayers over and over again as he stared at the ceiling shaking uncontrollably, for the longest time everyone feared he was going mad. Once he'd awoken to a most pleasant sight, there he was; his charge, his Italy, his Lovino, leaning over him in his sleep. "Don't worry Bastard." He'd said, whispering softly against his forehead as he leant down to kiss it, the words echoing, he seemed so far away, it didn't make sense. "I'm at peace now, right? No need for you to fucking worry about me." And he was right, wasn't he? There was no need. Lovino Vargas in his soft, angelic form that was before him was at peace, in god's arms high up above, in eternal bliss. But why were there cracks? Why was Lovino's skin beginning to peel away like a cracked oil painting? He reached up to touch the crack, try and determine whether it was real, or his eyes playing another trick. At the contact the surface of Italia Romano's perfect olive skin fractured and began to flake away, falling like snow... or... like ash. It was warm, suddenly far too warm for the Spaniard as he felt himself begin to sweat, Lovino continuing to flake away, his mouth opening and uttering those soundless words he had done so long ago and Antonio, the kingdom of Spain, lay there, horrified as they repeated over and over in the loudest volume possible in his head. Blood leaked past the cracks in Romano's skin until all fell away and the Italian became dust and air.

Francis had remained diligently by Antonio's side, feeding him as much as he could, though they were half rations; basic soups and the occasional loaf of bread. He was there for him to mop his brow, to be screamed at and cried on as the Spaniard slowly regained his grip on reality. When the younger nation seemed to have





reached his worst, when Francis was worried he'd lose another friend, Spain pulled through, waking up half dead 2 weeks after he'd arrived at the port of Marseille.

"Fr-Francis...?"

The Frenchman rushed to his companion's side, helping him sit up as he squinted against the harsh light of the southern French coast seeping through the blinds.

"Oui, Mon ami?" The country of France smiled when the Spaniard's eyes recognised his presence for once. "Back in the land of the living are you?"

Francis laughed, but the Spaniard did not. Silence settled once more on the room before Spain broke it with abrupt coughing.

"Uh... Are you okay? How are you feeling, mon cher?" There was concern in Francis' eyes as he moved closer to do... he lingered for a moment... something, eventually settling with patting him on the back to ease the cough.

"Si, si... Francesco I am fine... Por favor... Stop." Antonio let out a heavy sigh once he'd caught his breath, massaging his throat. "It's just a cough; everyone has a cough these days."

Francis chose instead to just frown, they both knew – despite however much they both wanted it to be true – that Antonio was lying. These were the first signs, next thing he would know his childhood friend and ally would be coughing up blood, slowly rotting from the inside out, as his bodily functions start to shut down, cell re-growth tries to compensate and speeds up, but too fast for his body and unhealthily too... eventually he'll wind up like the rest of them – unless...

"Antoine... what if... what if we got you a secluded corner of France... take a handful of people, quarantined of course, non? And then we just... let you have that... keeping your people free of the disease... then maybe...maybe if we give you that... after everyone else is gone... you'll still..." Francis stopped, broken off by the look in Antonio's eyes, almost fearful. "Antoine?"

Antonio snapped out of his train of thought, looking to Francis with confused eyes. "Que?"

"I was saying what if we gave you a part of my country an-"

"Lo siento Francis, but no... I don't think now is the time to abandon my people... I am the Kingdom of España. My people are who I am; it would be ill fitting to lose complete hope on them. Besides, you worry too much, Francis... Perhaps it'll just pa-" He erupted, rather ironically into fits of coughing, bringing his hand to his mouth as Francis rubbed his back.

"I-It was just a suggestion, mon ami." The Frenchman sighed as a distant ringing of the phone called upstairs. "Ah... I should get that... désolé..."

Antonio kept his hand to his mouth, watching as Francis left the room before looking down at his hand with a disappointed, but accepting sigh.

~Ring o Ring o Roses~

"Bonjour~" Francis replied his ever cheery self over the phone, soon holding the receiver away from his ear however as he heard the caller yell at him. "Q-Quoi? Désolé... I did not quite uhhh... catch that?"

"Is. He. Here?" The receiver buzzed, the sound of an irritated middle aged man echoing down the telephone wires.

"You know you are going to have to be a bit more clear than that I have no idea who you are on about." Francis replied slightly snootily, stiffening at the fact that his boss even dared to start the call off so rudely.

"You know who I'm on about. The Spaniard. I heard you'd come home with someone from Italy despite your best interests and brought someone back with you. I'm fully aware that Italy has fallen so aside from the Germans who have gone in to lockdown, that would be your reckless and stupid friend and neighbour!"

Francis rolled his eyes, biting his nail slightly as he looked up to where Antonio had got up to go to the bathroom apparently, a couple of coughs still heard. "Oui... He is here... problem?"

"Oui there is a problem!" The older man barked over the phone, "The virus has broken out in the Andalusian towns; it's only a matter of time before they're all gone too, and your 'friend' will probably be already showing the symptoms! I want him out of the country! I do not want that filth touching our beloved country. So get your Spanish flee ridden mongrel out of this land or. Put. It. Down." The stern voice responded, shocking the Frenchman slightly at the panic and demand that was audible in the quake of his tone.

"B-But Monsieur... he is a nation, he cannot possibly infe-"

"I want him gone." The voice replied with a renewed sense of authority. "Don't you forget Francis, you are the grand nation of France, and you answer to you people and your leaders before you listen to yourself. You can do nothing to stop us because it's what we want... and because it's what we want, it's what you want too. So stop this pitiful attempt to be human and obey me."

Francis stood, a little shell shocked at the announcement, only able to stammer back in a shaking and uncertain state, "Oui, right away..."

Antonio stared into the sink of the house, the colour red filling his vision, red and white, just like Lovino the last he'd seen him.

~Ring o Ring o Roses~

"I'm sorry, mon ami..."

"Stop that..."

"But I am... Truly very sorry..."

The car drive so far had been awkward, stopping occasionally so that the Spaniard could get some air, cough some more and ease his lungs. Francis had explained the situation in an attempt to feel at ease for what he had to do, and despite how much Antonio had told him it was okay, he couldn't shake the feeling of guilt, pressing in on him.

"Just keep your eyes on the road Francis and stop worrying about me." The Spaniard sighed, looking out of the window.

The hours passed slowly, but they got there eventually, Francis flashing papers at the border control before being let through to the gate. It was so eerily quiet, had it

really been a year ago that this place would have been filled with commuters and holiday makers?

"Well... here we are..." Francis broke the silence.

"Si..." Antonio sighed, looking at the gate for a moment before grabbing the bag full of items Francis had put together for him and grabbing the handle of the door, departing and beginning to walk to the gate. Francis too departed the car.

"Antonio-!" Francis called after the male as he moved under the opened gate, who turned back to look at him. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do, oui?"

Antonio managed to smile ever so slightly, the guard at the other end calling out as the gate began to lower itself. "You too, take good care of yourself, afterall, you'll need to." He seemed saddened for a moment before looking back to the Frenchman and adding as his final words. "You know what a close friend of mine's last words to me were?"

"Quoi?" Francis tried desperately to call over the loud mechanics of the gate, as it steadily drew to it's close.

"There is nothing else."

~We all fall down~

A/N: HERE HAVE A NEW CHAPTER I HAVE NOTHING ELSE TO SAY~

Only Good For Sex

Author: DrawMeLikeOneOfYourFrenchGirls PMLovino should have slapped Antonio's face for saying that. Spamano, Implied GerIta, Human Names, Attempted Suicide, Drug Use, Dark Themes, LemonRated: Fiction M - English - Angst/Hurt/Comfort - S. Italy/Romano & Spain - Chapters: 4 - Words: 6,693 - Reviews: 17 - Favs: 28 - Follows: 47 - Updated: 06-20-12 - Published: 06-07-12 - id: 8192247

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Title: Only Good for Sex

Chapter: 1 - Confess

Summary: Lovino should have slapped Antonio's face for saying that.

Warnings: Spamano (AntonioxLovino), Implied GerIta (LudwigxFeliciano), Human Names Used, Foul Language, Drug Use, Attempted Suicide, Darkish Themes, Implied and Eventual Lemon.

Author's Note: First fanfiction I've posted on here, and I bloody well hope that it isn't my last. Because, yeah. I'm too lazy. Please excuse any mistakes that I might make with the Italian and Spanish. I only use Google Translate. e v e"Anyway, onto the (oh so ridiculously bad) story...




http://www.fanfiction.net/u/4031475/DrawMeLikeOneOfYourFrenchGirls

Flushed cheeks.

Sweaty skin.

Sticky sheets.

Fucking sore arse.

Like always.

Lovino shuddered in the tight grip of his lithe frame. How many times had it been like this? Fucked until exhaustion, then sleep until past midday. It was always the same, and Lovino was sick of it. He tried to discreetly slip out of the almost death-grip constricting him, the sweat sticking their bare bodies together.

"For fuck's sake, bastardo... Get the fuck off of me..." growled Lovino, clawing at the thin sheets draped over them. The Spaniard did nothing about Lovino's struggles, merely opening a single eye to hazily meet a face full of damp hair. His eye closed as soon as it opened, making a small gargling sound at the back of his throat.

"Buenos días, Lovi~..." Antonio yawned, nuzzling the back of the Italian's neck, earning a shiver.

"Get up," Lovino started, pausing to take a quick glance at the clock, "it's 1. And I'm hungry, stupido."

"Come on, Lovi~. We don't usually get up until later~..." whined the older male. Lovino was tempted to just say, "I don't fucking like the usual." but instead, gave a disapproving grunt and nudged his elbow against Antonio's forearm. The Spaniard reluctantly let go, pressing a chaste kiss on the base of the boy's neck.

Stretching his stiff limbs, Lovino wriggled away from Antonio until he was seated uncomfortably on the edge of the bed. A stinging sensation jolted up the Italian's spine, said male ignoring it as best he could. Of course, Lovino thought with a frown, my legs are like fucking Jell-O when I actually need them. Nevertheless, he stood up, wobbling slightly. Feeling the cool air hit his naked body, Lovino stumbled to a not-so-neat pile of clothes. He threw on a shirt, pulled up a pair of boxers and zipped an old pair of jeans.

Before he could escape the room, Antonio let out a pleading groan, waving an arm in the air as if he needed help. Lovino turned around, scowling, and narrowed his eyes at the foolish Spaniard.

"Lovi~! Help me up?" Antonio asked, grinning like an idiot.

Lovino scowled, holding up a fist and sticking the middle finger up, "Get yourself up! You're not the one with a fucking sore arse, idiota!"

The older male kept waving his arm, sticking his bottom lip out and furrowing his brows together in sadness. He began whining, even rolling onto his stomach and fake-crying. Lovino rolled his eyes and stepped back towards the bed, reaching out to tug on Antonio's hand. Just as the Italian's fingers brushed again tanned skin, the Spaniard turned his head and flashed a wide grin.

"Cazzo! Get up, lazy-arse!" Lovino howled, pulling his arm back and turning on the balls of his feet.

"Lovi, oh Lovi~! Can you-" Antonio began, before being cut off.

"Make your own breakfast, fuckface!"

Stuffing a spoonful of cereal into his mouth, Lovino heard the shuffling of Antonio's feet as he entered the kitchen. The Italian hunched over the table, pulling the silverware out of his mouth; unbeknownst to him, a bit of milk began to trickle down his chin. Swallowing without really chewing the cereal, the younger male rubbed at his lips with the back of his hand, not catching Antonio's glances.

"You really didn't make me breakfast~..." Antonio mumbled with a fake pout.

"No shit, Sherlock." retorted a more-than-annoyed Lovino.

"My name's Sherlock? I thought it was Antonio…"

"Ugh. I didn't mean it like that, retard."

"Retard? Is it comestible?"

"Mio fucking dio. No, it isn't commestibile."

"¿Qué? It isn't?"

"No. Now, let me eat in peace."

"But, Lovi~! I want something to eat too~!"

"Then make yourself something and leave!"

Antonio, at this point, had given up trying to get Lovino to simply make him some breakfast. An oblivious smile played at his lips. He turned his back to the Italian to approach the fridge, pulling out god-knows-what – most likely tomatoes. With his back still to Lovino, Antonio broke into a fit of laughter. The Spaniard faced the younger male after hearing a disapproving grunt. Two crimson tomatoes in hand, Antonio bounded happily towards Lovino, offering out one of the red fruits. Snatching it away, the Italian grumbled a "Grazie,idiota…" and bit a chunk out of the tomato. He finished it hastily, letting out a somewhat content sigh. Once the older male had completed half of the juicy fruit, he opened his mouth to speak.

"You know what, Lovi?"

No answer; just a questioning glare.

"I was thinking about something…"

"You were thinking? There's something new." Lovino interrupted with a scowl.

Antonio continued laughing. "You know how you always used to complain about never being able to do anything right?"

"I still do think that, bastardo."

"Anyway, mi tomate, I know one thing that you will always be perfecto for, no matter how many other things you may stuff up!"

"Cosa? What do you think is the one thing I'm perfect for?"

"You're perfect for sex!"

Lovino should have slapped Antonio's face for saying that.

Translations

Bastardo – Bastard (Italian)

Buenos días – Good Morning (Spanish)

Stupido – Stupid (Italian)

Idiota – Idiot (Italian)

Cazzo – Fuck (Italian)

Comestible – Edible (Spanish)

Mio fucking dio - My fucking god (Italian)

Commestibile – Edible (Italian)

¿Qué? - What? (Spanish)

Mi tomate – My tomato (Spanish)

Perfecto – Perfect (Spanish)

Cosa? – What? (Italian)

The chapter 2 will be up soon! ...I hope. How'd you like it, anyway? Good? Bad? Shouldn't have been written? Oh, and if you have any ideas, then please tell me! Ideas = A not-so-dead brain. :UAnyway, reviews are appreciated and flames will be used as a campfire.See you next chapter?

Only Good For Sex


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Chapter: 2 - Forget



Author's Note: Well... Here's the second chapter. Yeah. I'm really tired. Not that you guys care or anything, but I thought I'd just inform you. I'm surprised I had this up so quickly. Like really surprised. What's it been? A few days? I don't even remember. I was half-expecting myself to just abandon this story or something already. Obviously not.

Enjoy chapter 2? Please?

Lovino really should've slapped Antonio's face. That comment hit him hard.

The Italian shifted his feet, "Is that what you think...?"

Lovino didn't let Antonio answer his question; he just pushed himself away from the bench he was leaning over. A muffled sob escaped the younger's quivering lips as he brought up his hands to cover his face. He stormed off towards the bedroom they had previously been in, stopping as he reached the door. If I go in here, Antonio will definitely find me… The Italian thought with a deep frown, I'll have to find somewhere more… Hidden or secluded. Looking to the both of his sides, he found no such place to go. He trod into the bedroom and remembered the bathroom that branched off from it. A slight smile tugged at his lips, despite the tears cascading down his flushed cheeks. His ears perked as he heard the distinct patter of footsteps and the loud call of his name. Quickly retreating to the bathroom, Lovino shut and locked the door, sitting himself in the middle of the tiled floor, the coldness of said floor sending shivers up his spine. Tears continued to roll down his cheeks and landed onto his knees, which were drawn up against his chest.

Antonio regretted saying that comment, no matter how true or false he thought it was.

He wandered aimlessly around the house, checking every room he passed to see where Lovino had hidden himself. When he had checked about half of the rooms, he began to holler out the young Italian's name.

"¿Lovi, dónde estás?" Antonio yelled, turning his head this way and that, desperate to find Lovino. He had almost given up before hearing the slam of a door, hastily making his way to the source of the sound. When he had reached the bedroom, the Spaniard glanced around with a sad frown, huffing quietly to himself.

"Lovi? Are you in there?" He asked to no-one in particular, absent-mindedly leaning against the door to the room where Lovino was hiding. A stifled gasp escaped the Italian's lips as he heard the faint creak of the door being leaned upon. Shaking his head and mouthing cusses, he scrambled on his hands and knees towards the sink. Pressing his back and hands against it, Lovino began to breath quite heavily, his chest still throbbing from his crying. He bit his lip, eyebrows knitting together; he was overreacting about the whole situation.

He shouldn't be crying because of what had been said. He shouldn't be scared to think what Antonio might do. And he most certainly shouldn't be trembling and crying on the bathroom floor.

He should be trying to prove that the idiotic Spaniard was wrong.

But, Lovino couldn't do that. Because he knew Antonio was right. Everything he had previously said was the complete truth, in Lovino's mind anyway.

Before he knew it, his loud and raspy sobs had faded to silent tears. The Italian shuffled around until he was seated on his knees and facing the sink cupboard's door. Antonio had finally knocked on the door, coming to the conclusion that Lovino wasn't just using the toilet or something similar. A grimace appeared across the younger male's face as he heard the smacking of skin against wood. Gripping the handle of the cupboard and opening it slowly, Lovino gulped, mustering up enough strength to talk.

"Sì, I'm in here…" Lovino's scratchy voice made the Spaniard smile slightly, glad to know that the Italian wasn't bluntly ignoring him.

"Escucha, Lovi... Lo siento. What I was saying wasn't that you were only good for sex… I only said it as a joke and thought that you might've taken it a little more lightly…" Antonio mumbled.

A deep frown etched into his features, Lovino shook his head lightly, even though he knew the other couldn't see it. "I can't see why you would joke about that sort of thing… Because you shouldn't joke about the truth…"

"Like I said before, lo siento. I know I shouldn't—Espera... What do you mean? It's not the truth, Lovi…"

"Ma è... You're telling the truth… It is the only thing I'm buono at…"

Antonio fell silent, hearing some rustling from behind the door. Lovino searched for something suitable for what he had planned on doing, breaking the silence as he began speaking again.

"I've never been good at anything… You should know that. Even if sex is the only thing I'll ever be perfect at, I…"

The rest of Lovino's words had been cut off as the Spaniard heard a loud smack against the door, almost startling him. He desperately wanted to rip the handle off of the bathroom door, run in and hug Lovino like there was no tomorrow. However, he was curious as to what the Italian was getting at, wondering if he was just saying what he had said to make the Spaniard feel bad.

Lovino's voice reached Antonio's ears again, this time in a whisper. "I want to ask you something…"

"G-go ahead…" The older male was quite hesitant to reply, but didn't want the Italian feeling like he was being ignored.

"Perché?"

"¿Q-qué?"

"Don't act stupid, Antonio."

"B-but, what are you trying to ask? 'Why', what?"

"Why me?"

Antonio gulped heavily. Why is Lovi asking such an odd question? I'm a bit worried… His mind began to race and, before he knew it, he was spouting out a flurry of emotions tied into words. The Italian was silent as Antonio spoke, which worried said Spaniard immensely.

All Lovino heard was a quiet "Te amo…" before he fell to the ground with a thump.

Translations

¿Lovi, dónde estás? – Lovi, where are you? (Spanish)

Sì – Yes (Italian)

Escucha, Lovi... – Listen, Lovi… (Spanish)

Lo siento – I'm sorry (Spanish)

Espera – Wait (Spanish)

Ma è – But it is (Italian)

Buono – Good (Italian)

Perché? – Why? (Italian)

¿Q-qué? – Wh-what? (Spanish)

Te amo – I love you (Spanish)

So, how was chapter 2? I'm sorry if you guys wanted to know what Lovi grabbed and/or why he just fell to the ground or even what Tonio was saying to Lovi… You'll figure out what happens in the next chapter! For now, though, you can just imagine what was said and done.

Like always, reviews are appreciated and flames will be used to warm up my house, because it's freakin' cold where I live. = - =;

Only Good For Sex






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Chapter: 3 - Remember



Author's Note: Well, here's chapter 3 for you guys! Thanks for the lovely reviews; I'm really happy that you guys took the time to read this story and reviewed it! I've been pretty sick - even though I managed to get this up quickly - so this chapter may not be as good as you might expect it to be… But anyways, you'll finally figure out what was going on in Antonio's mind when he was answering Lovino's question. I don't quite want to tell you what Lovino did, because I found it hard to slip it in smoothly with the rest of the text. So hopefully I can fit it in with the next chapter. Oh, and just a heads-up, it's a headcanon of mine that Lovino has insomnia and he has to take tablets to treat it. The medication's called Benzodiazepine, so you guys know for when it's mention in context of the story.

Anyhow, enjoy this chapter~.

When Antonio heard the smack of Lovino hitting the ground, his eyes widened. Despite having stopped talking, the Spaniard's mouth was still slightly agape. Panic washed over him and he began to pound his fists against the futile door separating him from the Italian.

Antonio fiddled with the door's handle shakily, his hands becoming sweaty with the overwhelming apprehension. Muttering curses in Spanish under his breath, he turned his head this way and that to find something that would assist him. I-I need to get in there… There ought to be some way to… he thought, tears welling up in the corners of his eyes. The Spaniard quickly rubbed at his eyes, repeating to himself in a whisper that he shouldn't cry, remembering all the times Lovino had told him not to. He punched the door one last time, for good measure, before spinning on the balls of his feet and stumbling towards one the bedside tables. Scavenging desperately to find his phone, Antonio noticed something odd; Lovino's medication, that treats his intense insomnia, was missing.

"N-no... Él no podía tener..." the Spaniard mumbled, feeling the tears threatening to spill. "I-I must be getting overworked… Maybe Lovi just forgot to put his pills away… Sí, eso es todo..." Antonio prayed that he was right and flipped open his phone, calling the first person that came to mind.

"Feliciano!"

A soft "Ve~" was heard, followed by an excited greeting. "Ciao, Antonio! Come stai?"

"N-no time to get chatty, Feli! Lovi's just…!"

"Ve? What's wrong with fratello?"

"He's… Mira, I need you to get here as fast as you can! No haga preguntas! Bring Ludwig if he's there with you, too!"

"Capito, Antonio! I'll be there presto!"

As the beeping sound of a disconnected call rung through his ears, Antonio murmured a soft thank-you and strode back to the bathroom door. He placed his palms flat against the wooden surface and sighed gloomily. Just when he was about to mutter something to the unconscious Italian, his ears perked to a loud banging noise, supposing it was Feliciano and Ludwig at the front door. Antonio was reluctant to leave the bedroom, afraid something bad might happen to Lovino while he gathered the other Italian and German. Before he could yell out that the door was unlocked and that they could come in, the two had already found their way inside, footsteps echoing near the bedroom. Not a single word was said as Feliciano bounded into the room, Ludwig following shortly behind. The Spaniard glanced between Lovino's brother and the door, the German catching on to the problem amidst. With a single hand gesture from the tall blonde, Antonio found himself sitting on the edge of the bed, leaning against Feliciano's shoulder and crying his eyes out.

"Ve, Antonio… What happened? Why is fratello locked in the bathroom? Surely, he could get out himself." The Italian asked in a voice that seemed too calm for Antonio's liking.

"Lovi locked himself in there…" Antonio all but avoided the younger Italian's eyes, rubbing at his own with his hand.

"Perché avrebbe dovuto farlo? Lovi's smart enough to get himself out, ve."

"That's not the problem, Feli…"

"Was ist das problem?" Ludwig's deep voice interrupted, working hard on trying to unlock the god-forsaken door.

Antonio wiped his eyes one last time before speaking up again. "W-well… I sort of told Lovi that he was always going to be perfect… Para el sexo… A-and then he ran into the bathroom and locked himself in…"

"Ve, why would you say that?" Feliciano squeaked, a horrified look plastered onto his face.

"Feliciano, nicht unterbrechen…" The German grumbled, shooting the younger Italian a glare before going back to attempting to unlock the door.

"Gracias, Ludwig…" Antonio inhaled sharply before continuing, "I didn't mean it in a nasty way… I meant it like him always being perfect at sex, no matter what things he may or may not stuff up. But I didn't get to explain it to him before he stormed off."

All the Spaniard received at that point were small nods of understanding, both from Feliciano and Ludwig.

"When I found that he had locked himself in this bathroom, he asked me 'why him?'. I didn't really understand what he was questioning, but then I started telling him why I loved him." He sighed hesitantly, and then proceeded explaining, "He wasn't

talking at all, and after about five minutes, I said 'Te amo...' I heard a thump. A loud thump. Lovi must've done something to himself, because I remember hearing some rattling or something similar beforehand."

"I think I know what the problem is…" Ludwig mumbled, loud enough to reach the Spaniard's ears, the door - that had been so stubbornly locked – wide open.

There it was.

Lovino's pills scattered across the tiled floor.

The Italian, dead silent, barely breathing.

Translations

N-no... Él no podía tener... – N-no… He couldn't have… (Spanish)

Sí, eso es todo… - Yeah, that's it… (Spanish)

Ciao – Hello (Italian)

Come stai? – How are you? (Italian)

Fratello – Brother (Italian

Mira – Look (Spanish)

No haga preguntas – Don't ask questions (Spanish)

Capito – Understood (Italian)

Presto – Soon (Italian)

Perché avrebbe dovuto farlo? – Why would he do that? (Italian)

Was ist das problem? – What is the problem? (German)

Para el sexo – For sex (Spanish)

Nicht unterbrechen – Don't interrupt (German)

Gracias – Thank you (Spanish)


How'd you like that chapter? I personally think it's too rushed and doesn't explain everything well enough, but I'll leave that up to you guys. I'm sorry if I didn't quite capture Feliciano's and Ludwig's personalities very well, but they're only minor characters, so I didn't think much of it. Oh, and about the whole 'Lovino taking meds' thing, the medication he does take – Benzodiazepine – is said to have a drowsy effect on people, as it does treat insomnia and other conditions similar. But when taken in large doses, it sends the user into a state of unconsciousness, almost

to the point of falling into a coma. I imagine Lovino doing something like overdosing meds and drugs, rather than cutting. Because cutting is just too mainstream.

…Did I really just say that? e – e;

Anyway, reviews are greatly appreciated, and flames will be used to burn my old smelly socks.

Only Good For Sex


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Chapter: 4 - Leave



Author's Note: I got an interesting review on the last chapter by MiraMizu15. She (well, I'm assuming you're a she. Sorry if I'm wrong) mentioned that Antonio would've crashed down the door because of what happened. Well, she's right. He would've. But he didn't know what happened. For all Antonio knew, Lovino could've just slammed his fist against something and continued to silently cry. That and it was sort of just written that way. I tried rewriting it in a way similar to what she suggested would be better, but what I was trying to convey didn't seem to flow very well; I couldn't fit a better place to stick in Feliciano and Ludwig into the story either (as a couple, anyway. Feliciano pops up in this chapter too.) I hope you all sort of get what I mean. That being said, if anyone has any confusions on what's going on, feel free to PM me and I'll be happy to clarify what you don't understand. And to those wondering, there should hopefully be some smut in the next chapter~

Oh, and this chapter takes place after Antonio (manically) called up an ambulance and had Lovino taken to the hospital; I thought it was just a bit pointless to have to write up the process, as I imagine the whole trip to the hospital just being Antonio and Feliciano bawling their eyes out and Ludwig calming them both down. So yeah…

This chapter is going to be a fairly long, and most likely boring, one… But you get to find out what Lovino was thinking before he did what he did!

Well, erm… Enjoy~





Why did he do that? Antonio's thoughts made his head pulsate painfully. It didn't help with the dull light that forced his eyes to work overtime to focus on anything and everything. Regardless, being in Lovino's presence was enough to help him ignore the pain. Glancing back over to the unconscious Italian, he grimaced. His usual soft golden features looked pasty and pale. His breath was heavy and his body was rigid. Just looking at the current physical condition of Lovino was enough to bring the Spaniard to tears; he didn't think he would be able to handle what condition Lovino's mind was presently in. As much as Antonio wanted to put on a brave face and tell himself everything was okay, he knew he wouldn't be able to. Nothing was alright. In fact, it was the complete opposite.

Antonio began to talk, knowing Lovino wouldn't be able to hear him. "This is my entire fault, isn't it? I should've been more careful with what I was saying."

There was no answer, but the Spaniard didn't really care. He could almost imagine a miffed Italian yelling at him for being stupid. Antonio smiled slightly at this thought.

"Te amo, Lovino. You know that, right?" The older male asked in a quiet voice, grasping the younger's hand in his own. After placing a quick kiss to his knuckles, Antonio broke into a fit of hysteric sobs. He gripped tighter at the limp hand and pressed his forehead to the edge of the hospital bed, letting his tears fall freely onto the sheets. He didn't even notice Lovino begin to stir and slowly regain his consciousness. The Italian let out a small grunt, inaudible over Antonio's crying.

"A-andate via… D-dannazione…" Lovino's hoarse voice grabbed Antonio's attention, though he thought it was merely his mind playing tricks on him. Besides scrunching his nose slightly and moving his lips to speak, the Italian hadn't looked any different. Sighing, the Spaniard looked down to the sheets, at the spot that had been dampened by his own tears. He hadn't heard the loud knock on the hospital ward's door; a soft voice asking to come in snapped him out of his daydream-like state.

"Antonio? Ve, it's Feliciano… Can I come in?" The younger Italian's usual cheery voice had an upset, and almost guilty, tone to it.

Without allowing the older male to respond, Lovino's brother stepped soundlessly into the room. Once Feliciano had shut the door behind him, he immediately trod to Antonio's side, staring solemnly at Lovino's face, almost scrutinising his features.

"Ve… He's not dead, è lui?" He asked the Spaniard, not looking up.

"No, he's fine… I think. Those pills must've affected him badly…" Antonio took in a shaky breath before continuing, "The doctor said he should start to gain consciousness in a short while."

At this, Feliciano nodded and let out a sad "Ve…" before narrowing his eyes. He leaned forward slightly, getting a better look at Lovino. The older Italian's lips twitched into a small frown, and he emitted a half-hearted groan. His fingers jerked in the Spaniard's grip. Antonio noticed this. Before he had the chance to express his glee at the Italian's newfound consciousness, Lovino's hand was yanked from his hold and an irate glare was shot at him.

"C-cazzo! What the hell are you doing?" Lovino's scowl deepened as he was answered with a large grin and tear-stained cheeks.

"Lovi! Dios mio! I'm so sorry!" cried out the Spaniard through choked sobs. He embraced the older Italian in a tight hug and continued voicing his apologies. Lovino

groaned, but didn't make the effort to try and pry himself out of Antonio's grip; he was too tired. As the boy was about to say something that may or may not have had any importance, a thick Spanish accent interrupted him.

"Do you remember who I am? Oh, por favor, don't tell me you have amnesia! Lo~vi!" Antonio whined childishly. As the Spaniard had finished talking, he hugged Lovino tighter then received a rather nasty slap to the face.

"Idiota! I don't have amnesia or anything like that!" Lovino snarled, "Because if I did, I wouldn't remember who you are!"

Antonio rubbed his cheek in pain. "Then who am I, Lovi? And who's that?" As he posed his second question, the Spaniard pointed to Feliciano, whom was staring at his own brother in slight shock and relief.

"Don't be stupid, that's… Erm…" The Italian brought a finger to his chin, "My brother. Yeah, that's it… Fe-Feliciano, right?"

The younger Italian nodded his head in response, a smile fixed to his face. Antonio, however, wore a sad frown, upset that Lovino had answered his question about Feliciano first. He did just wake up from being unconscious for about four hours… I can't really blame him… He thought as his frown soon broke into a small smile.

"E tu? You're, hmm… Anthony? No, not Spanish enough… Andrés? Oh, for the love of god, so che questo! It's something beginning with 'An', I know it… Uh, Antonio…?" Lovino pondered aloud, holding his head in mild confusion, getting a grin of approval and a tighter hug – if that was possible at this point of time.

Why did it take so long to remember his name? I remembered my brother's quicker… The older Italian moved his hands from his head and noticed he wasn't in the constricting embrace anymore. As quickly as his hands were dropped to his sides, they were grabbed into a hold by both Antonio and Feliciano. Lovino couldn't help but roll his eyes slightly before returning to his thoughts. And why did I have to think so hard about it?

A groan of pain escaped his lips, and he leant back against about three flimsy - what seemed to be - pillows. This action earned concerned looks from his brother and the Spaniard. Lovino ignored them, squeezing his eyes shut. He tried to pull his hands away from the two, but to no avail. After a moment or two, the trio heard the door swinging on its hinges and saw a young man clad in a long white coat that hung to his ankles.

"Ah, Doctor… Erm, Williams! Yeah, that's right… I thought you were coming in later," Lovino said in his shock; he had expected the doctor to check-up on him in an hour's time.

"Bonjour, Mr Vargas. Oui, I was meant to come in later, but I had heard that you had another visitor, so I felt like I should introduce myself to whom it was," Dr Williams greeted the trio with a warm smile and soft voice.

Why would he need to introduce himself? Surely I won't be in here too long… Lovino pondered as the young doctor gave both Antonio and Feliciano a handshake. The elder Italian started to panic a bit. What if I have to stay in here for a long time? Or maybe I'll have stay here forever? Okay, Lovino… You're getting a bit over-the-top now.

Lovino shook his head, while Dr Williams continued to chat almost casually with the other two. "You guys can just call me Matthew, eh. W-well, if you'd like, of course!" He received a more-than-happy "Sí!" from the Spaniard and an ecstatic nod from the younger Italian. Of course, Antonio and Feliciano not concerned themselves about Matthew's highly unexpected introduction had unnerved Lovino much further. Were they really alright with him being stuck in this hospital? I fucking hope not. The older Italian's inner voice grumbled.

"Would I be able to talk to Mr Vargas alone for a couple of minutes?" asked the ever so hushed-voiced Matthew, gesturing towards the door. Feliciano beamed and trod out of the ward, sitting himself comfortably in one of the seats in the waiting room. Antonio, however, had more trouble leaving Lovino by himself, even though the doctor would be there. Despite this, he managed to force himself out of the room, finding a seat next to Feliciano. When the two had left and the door was shut, Dr Williams brought a hand to his mouth to clear his throat.

"Care to tell me what happened that made you have to come here, Lovino?" Matthew questioned in a concerned tone. He quite vividly remembered the last time the Italian was rushed to this very hospital. And, if his memory served him right, he had been in a similar condition: unconscious, looking like he had been in some sort of distress beforehand and brought in by an extremely worried Spanish man. He knew that this time it wasn't for the same reason, though; Lovino never forgot to take the medication prescribed to him.

There was silence, and Lovino glanced away in an embarrassed manner. "It's… It's a bit of a long story as to what happened before getting here. I can tell you exactly why I'm in my current condition, but I want you to please tell me exactly what's wrong with me at the moment after I tell you."

That was odd. Lovino never says please, or is never really polite. Something really bad must've happened. Matthew thought, quickly interrupting his thinking process to speak again. "Actually, I don't really mind hearing the whole story, if you would kindly tell me."

"W-well," the Italian male hesitated, mentally chastising himself for stuttering, "After I had woken up and was eating breakfast – but I suppose you could call it lunch, considering the time, Antonio asked me if I could make him something as well. I, obviously, rejected. Then he made his way over to the fridge and started laughing randomly. I was a bit confused, but I didn't say anything…"

Lovino took a shaky breath before continuing. "He asked me 'You know what?', and I kept silent, because I didn't know what he was getting at. He was going on about how I used to always think that I was good-for-nothing, which I still sort of do. Then he said something along the lines of knowing what I'm perfect for, no matter how much of a screw-up I am... H-he said I w-was…" The Italian couldn't say anymore before he had begun crying, his voice cracking much like a young boy's voice during puberty.

Matthew encouraged the other to keep explaining what had happened, faintly smiling, "What did Antonio say to you, Lovino?"

"H-he told me I was… O-only good for sex…"

Dr Williams couldn't think of anything to say, but he surely wanted to. "That's terrible! I feel very sorry for you… No wonder you're in such a condition." is what he was going to say, but Lovino had begun speaking again. Tears rolled down the Italian's cheeks and he didn't even notice, he just carried on with his explanation.

"A-as you could imagine, I was pretty fucking pissed off and upset. If he were to tell me that, I would've thought he would find a better time to tell me. Anyway… I stormed off to our bedroom, but I knew An… Anthony? Y-yeah, him… I knew he would look for me there. So, I locked myself in the bathroom and then remembered that I had left my medication in there. I was just going to quickly sneak back out and put it away before locking myself up again, but I heard him coming towards the bathroom. He obviously noticed that I was in the bathroom and knocked on the door. I didn't want him to see or talk to me, as I was crying and still angry. My mind was hazy from about that point, but I do remember asking him why he'd chosen to be with me, if I was only good for… You know what. Then An… Merda, what's his name? Ah, Andrés… That's right… He started saying all this stuff that I don't have any memory to what it was. I remember popping open the lid for the pills and deciding whether I was or wasn't going to take a mouthful of them… The last thing I really remember before waking up in here was him saying… T-te amo…"

By this point, Lovino was immediately pulled into Matthew's arms, where he freely cried his broken heart out. The pained sobs made the doctor frown sadly, so he began rubbing the Italian's back soothingly. "M-mon dieu… That's… I don't even know how to put it…" He cooed, trying to not correct the other that Antonio's name was neither Andrés nor Anthony.

The young male let Lovino continue to weep against his shoulder, the cries getting softer as he eventually fell asleep. Matthew managed to get the Italian off of him and lay him down, using some tissues to wipe his flushed and tear-stained cheeks. Lovino almost looked peacefully, if it weren't for the wounded expression still etched in his features. Dr Williams was about to gather his things and leave to inform Antonio and Feliciano, but he had remembered that he was meant to explain to the other what was his current condition. Maybe I'll wait until he wakes up… He needs to rest… Matthew thought, shuffling a seat closer to the hospital bed and reviewing his notes, titled 'Vargas, Lovino Romano: Possible Depression'.

Translations


Andate via – Go away (Italian)

Dannazione – Damnit (Italian)

È lui? – Is he? (Italian)

Cazzo – Fuck (Italian)

Dios mio – My god (Spanish)

Por favor – Please (Spanish)

Idiota – Idiot (Italian)

E tu? – And you? (Italian)

So che questo – I know this (Italian)

Bonjour – Hello (French)

Oui – Yes (French)

Sí – Yes (Spanish)

Merda - Shit (Italian)

Mon dieu – My god (French)

Wow, you guys actually managed to read to the end of this chapter. Or you skipped. Or something like that. But yeah, I'm still proud of you for putting up with this painfully boring chapter.

Yes, I did make Matthew the doctor. Why? Because I find him the only character that can fit the doctor role and have Lovino actually be nice to him. I hope you guys don't mind it being him, though. Meh, I really don't care if you care. But anyway…

And yes, Lovino is (possibly) depressed, and I have my reasons to say why. For starters, he pretty much tried to commit suicide by overdosing a prescription drug. On top of that, the reason that I gave him insomnia was because I can imagine him being very insecure about himself, resulting in him not sleeping because he thinks that something might happen. I'm not sure what, but I think you get the idea… Also, Lovino's brain has sort of slowed down because of the tablets. This is because the medication forces the user's brain to slow down enough to make them sleep. But since Lovino had taken so many pills at once, his brain started to function slower. That's also why he kept getting Antonio's name wrong. I hope that gives you guys enough information about what's wrong with our feisty little Italian for now.

Speaking of the next chapter… Do you guys have any ideas on what you'd like to happen next? Sure, I promised smut… But you might have some thoughts on what could happen. Though, I'm pretty sure I won't be writing it up, as I need to clarify on the others' reactions and that sort of thing as well.

A special thanks to Lovi's Tomato Lover for fixing up a little mistake I made. Her (god, I hope you're a girl... Sorry if I'm wrong...) help made it easier for me to think of ideas for the next few chapters. Because, honestly, I was running out of plans, and this story would've either been discontinued, or had some sort of half-assed ending. So, thanks again~

As always, reviews are appreciated and flames will be used to flame-grill some chicken.

Why Lovino Hates His Life

Author: Sakura-Music-Box PMLovino hasn't always had his horrible attitude, rude comments, or his passionate hate love for Antonio. He was a normal child, before his brother left him. Rated M for later chapters, angst, may or may not contain character death. Contains Spamano.Rated: Fiction M - English - Hurt/Comfort/Humor - S. Italy/Romano & Spain - Chapters: 7 - Words: 6,317 - Reviews: 8 - Favs: 19 - Follows: 27 - Updated: 06-24-12 - Published: 08-14-11 - id: 7287129

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Disclaimer:I do not own Hetalia. Enjoy the show!~ *throws popcorn at audience*




http://www.fanfiction.net/u/2992669/Sakura-Music-Box

Lovino grunted as he saw Feliciano hanging out with that 'macho potato-headed' [1] Ludwig. Kiku, short and shy, followed right behind. He really hated Ludwig because he always tried to make a move on his brother. Or so he thought. Kiku wasn't on his hate list, but Lovino always knew their was something fishy [2] about him…As Ludwig began the meeting, Feliciano sat down next to him with a big smile. "Ve~ buonogiorno [3] fratello!" He said in his usual chipper self.

"Whatever. Just pay attention to kraut-breath up there." Lovino growled, which caused Feliciano to shrink down in his seat, and pay attention to what Ludwig was saying. Lovino never listened during World meetings. Usually around lunch break he would be bothered by the tomato bastard Antonio. He always bragged about his tomato garden and gave Lovino tomatoes. Don't get Lovino wrong, he loves tomatoes, he just gets really flustered around Antonio. Antonio has confessed his un-dying love to Lovino several times. Lovino has said 'ti amo' to him only about twice. Antonio was told by Kiku that Lovino is a Tsundre and he is supposed to be like that; which is why Antonio doesn't leave him because of his mood-swings and threatening words.

Lovino hasn't always had his horrible attitude, rude comments, or his passionate hate (love) for Antonio. He only developed these traits from his childhood, as do most adults. He was just a normal innocent boy like his brother. Most people don't know the story goes…but Lovino does. It all started, when his brother was taken away from him, by Grandpa Rome.

Okay, this is a new story I thought of while eating Pizza...weird right? Well, It might involve character death ;A; I know everyone's thinking "OMG! YOU LIKE, CANNOT KILL OFF LOVI!~" Because I know everyone is gonna become Poland and go on all-caps rage. /doges tomatoes and high heals/ Anyways, This is just the prologue, I know I spelled "Prologue" wrong. I just realized this. orz...*grows mushrooms in Haruhi's closet* Okay..I'll get right to the translations/annotations

[1]-This is one of the many nicknames Lovino gives Germany. (He's just jealous;))

[2]- Get it? Fishy? Because he's Japanese and they eat raw fish? Herp Derp.

[3]- Good Day (in Italian)

Alrighty loves. I'll probably have to upload new chapters after I load chapters of Hetalia: Gleek it up! but I will update. Soon. Well, I'll see everyone hopfully on Thursday! Hasta La Pasta~! ~(=A=)-Supposed to be Romano..I fail. Hard.


Author: Sakura-Music-Box PMLovino hasn't always had his horrible attitude, rude comments, or his passionate hate love for Antonio. He was a normal child, before his brother left him. Rated M for later chapters, angst, may or may not contain character death. Contains Spamano.Rated: Fiction M - English - Hurt/Comfort/Humor - S. Italy/Romano & Spain -




Chapters: 7 - Words: 6,317 - Reviews: 8 - Favs: 19 - Follows: 27 - Updated: 06-24-12 - Published: 08-14-11 - id: 7287129

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Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia

Ch.1 Grandpa Rome

Lovino and Feliciano Vargas were born around the same time. Lovino, being the older twin, had always had a protective eye over his younger brother.

Even though they had their Grandfather to watch over them, he still wanted to protect his fratello. "Lovino, Feliciano! Come here! I have'a a story to tell'a you."

Their Grandfather would set Feliciano on his right leg, and Lovino on his left. Lovino always knew that Grandpa Rome's left leg was his weak leg. He

wondered why he was always set on that leg, but he eventually figured it out. He was not but the age of 2(human years) once his Grandpa told him his last

story. It was the same. About his glory days, the women, the money, the women, the fame, oh and did he mention the women? Their Grandfather was a

player. He always seemed to have some woman home with him, because of his unusual good looks.

"Well, that is'a the end'a of my story. Lovino, I need'a you to go and fetch some'a water. OK?" Rome asked his eldest grandson.

"Of course, Grandpa Rome." Lovino turned and skipped away to the river.

It was a good distance away, and because of Lovino's short legs, it would take him a while. Rome took this as his chance to take Feliciano away. Feliciano was asleep as always, so he didn't have to worry about him screaming.

Rome got up, and walked away, leaving Lovino to fend for himself.

Around that time Lovino was softly singing to himself as he filled the bucket with clear, fresh water. I wonder if I should pick a flower for Feliciano? Lovino thought to himself.

A bright red chanson dancing in the breeze caught his eye. He plucked it reluctantly, and trotted back to wear he thought Feliciano and his Grandpa would be.

"Nonno? Fratello?" Lovino called as he reached the shadded area where they last were seen. It was empty, except for a couple of coins, and a note.

Lovino could barley red but he knew what it meant. It read:

"Dear Lovino,


I am sorry. I am taking Feliciano with me back home, and you will never see him again.

I have been thinking for awhile now, and the reason I choose him, was because he has more potential than you. He can clean, cook, and draw

wonderfully. You cook poorly, your cleaning is half-hearted, and you draw like shit. I diddn't mean for this to happen, but I have no choice.

Take care of yourself, and stay out of trouble. Goodbye, my grandson.

-Grandpa Rome"

Lovino crummbled the letter in his hands. He felt his heart tear in half. Hot tears poured down his face. He could never see his Grandfather ever again.

Not that he cared for him, but he could never see his beloved fratello ever again. He loved his brother so much, he just had a hard time of saying that he loved him.

Now, he can never say it. Ever. "T-they left me..." Lovino started to feel hatred in his heart. He gave a dark look.

"GODDAMMIT!" He yelled at the top of his lungs. He then put a hand over his mouth. What had he just said? Did he just swear? Honestly, to him, it felt good.

He swore again "Those fucking assholes! I hate them! I hate them! I HATE EVERYONE!" He smiled evily. This was the start of the new Lovino. The one who

was never again going to be picked on. The Lovino who had no once left. The Lovino who was on his own. The Lovino who promised himself he would hate everyone.

He was never going back after that.

I really liked this chapter :3 I also love cliffhangers so...watch out. Well, sorry to my readers who I promised that this would be out by like 4 days ago...I'm sorry. I have been really busy lately and juggling chores, band, getting ready for school, and writing is hard. But I will try my hardest to get this out by next week. Okay, now on to translations:

Translations:

Fratello-Brother(Italian)

Nonno-Grandfather(Italian)

Thanks for reading and please review! Oh and thanks to XXfallingXXpetalsXX, AmericanJynx Jones, Yancha Kitsune, xxxHazelxCrimsonxxx, and 1funkeymaster51 for story favoriting and story alerting this Fanfiction!

Until Next week! Hasta La Pasta~



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Warning. This contains yaoi(well, kind of molestation really)hence why this is rated M.

Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia. Enjoy!

Why Lovino Hates His Life Ch.2- Francis

It has been 7 years since Feliciano was taken away, and Lovino is still lonely.

I'm all alone...what do I do? Lovino thought to himself. He wasn't watching where he was going when he bumped into a rather tall blonde boy.

"Excuse me, mon cher." The boy said. He bent down to meet eye to eye with Lovino.

He blushed as the boy kissed his hand, and the swatted him away. "What the hell?" Lovino asked as his blush grew.

"Bonjour! I am Francis Bonnefoy. What brings you here to my home town italienne?" Francis asked Lovino.

How did he know he was italian? Eh, European intuition. Anyways. As Francis and Lovino walked to his home, he asked him another question

"So, mon ami, I'll ask you again, is zhere somezing wrong? You seem very upset..." Lovino frowned. He was all alone, of course he would feel upset.

They walked into the beautiful mansion, and Lovino stopped and stared. It was just, too beautiful for words. the glass tables were elegantly frosted at the tips, doilies everywhere, the tea cups and tea pots were a eggshell blue with light pink trimmings. The walls, painted a nice off-white, with hard wood floors.

"Wow." Was all Lovino could say. Francis let out an attractive chuckle. "Let me show you around, mon ami."

After the little tour of his home, the met some of Francis' friends. One was a rather attractive Spainard, and he looked a little bit younger than Francis.

"Hola~ Are you enjoying your stay at casa de Francisico? My name is Antonio Fernandez Carriedo, or if you want, call me España~" Antonio spoke in a happy-go-lucky a rather rude, loud, and raspy voice came about the group.





"Kesesesesese, all hail the awesome me!" The albino croaked at the trio. Yes. He is an albino. Frankly, it freaked Lovino out.

"WHAT THE HELL IS THAT? ARE YOU ALL TOO BAT-SHIT CRAZY TO SEE THE FUCKING ALBINO IN THE ROOM?" Lovino belted and no one apparently heard him.

Lovino decided to leave the trio to talk among themselves. Francis was really getting on his last nerve. What kind of man lives in a mansion all alone, with hot maids, and 2 idiots friends.

Oh yeah. A man-whore. Lovino went to the room Francis gave him to stay in, and he climbed in bed and went fast to sleep.

It was 3:47 in the morning when Lovino was woken up by the creaking of a bed and a loud moan.

It wasn't just any type of moan, it was a sensual moan. Great, just what I needed. To hear Francis get laid.

Lovino took his pillow and wrapped it around his ears to block out the sexual acts going on in the room next door. He managrd to get a little more sleep in, but failed to realize that he couldn't.

He groaned, got up out of the fluffy bed, and went to use the bathroom. He pulled his zipper down, expecting to find a toilet, but instead. He found Francis.

"Ohonhonhonhon~ Eager aren't we, little italienne?" Francis says, grabbing Lovino's half hardened member. Lovino jumped back and tryed to zip his pants up but Francis was to fast.

"P-p-please. Stop it you pervert!" Lovino tried to say, but it didn't come out like it should have. Francis grabbed his curl and started sucking on it. How did that french bastard know that was his weak spot? He must know Feliciano then!

Francis saw that Lovino was turned on, and decided to take it to the next level. He grabbed Lovino's now fully hardened member and began stroking it up and down. Lovino tried to stifle a moan but did not succeed. Francis began to move faster until Lovino came in his hand with a loud moan.

Lovino's face was as red as a tomato. He was just violated by a teenager. A very horny teenager. Francis washed his hands and Lovino took this as his chance to escape. He ran down the hall to the spiral staircase.

Once he was right by the door, he heard Francis yell "Wait, mon ami! I didn't mean it! I-" Lovino left before he could hear him finish his sentence. he couldn't believe it. That was his first time, even though he didn't go all the way, it was his first time being touched. He is only just a teenager. He can't really remember the past that well.

Lovino kept running, and as soon as he was far enough from Francis' home, it started to pour down rain. He was all alone again. Lovino started to cry. All he can remember after that was being picked up by a woman that carried a frying pan...

Yay at my failed attempt to write some yaoi action...yeah, I've never written it. Oh well. I thought this chapter would need to be dirty 'cause,

well, it's France. So yep. France is added to Lovi's bastard list now. Oh, I wonder who's next~ Alrighty, translations!

Translations:

Mon Cher- My dear(French)

Mon Ami- My friend(French)

Italienne- Italian(French)

Casa De Francisico- Francis' home(Spanish)

España- Spain(Spanish)

Well, that's it for now I guess, so, see everyone next week! Hasta La Pasta~



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New Chapter! Sorry for the long wait everyone. I really needed to get this done though. I really appreciate the positive feedback you guys have given me! Enjoy!

Why Lovino Hates his life Ch.3 Elizabeta and Roderich

Lovino woke up in a small room, preferably made for a child. Or two, saw another bed next to the one he was currently in. It looked exactly like the way Feliciano made up his shook of the thought of his brother and got up off of the bed and opened the door. The next thing he saw was a glass staircase and the bright sun shinning through the kept walking down the stairs when he heard the sound of sizzling meat on a stove. He heard a very nice voice humming. He peered into the kitchen and saw a young, pretty woman cooking meatballs and spagetti. It all smelt very delictible.

The woman looked over at Lovino. "Oh! Your finally up! I'm making some spagetti, would you like some? I made the sauce with fresh tomatoes!" She smiled brightly at him. His ears perked up at the word tomato. What is a tomato? Is it a type of seasoning? A color? Lovino had to figure it out.

"S-si." He said, blushing a bit. Her expression imeediatly changed from nice, to even nicer.





"Oh! How cute! You're a tsundre, aren't you!" She bent down to give him a hug. Lovino sqirmed at her touch.

"G-get off of me, dammit!" He struggled with all his might and his lanky arms didn't do much. She was pretty strong.

"Elizabeta, please control yourself over our guest." Lovino heard a calm, yet annoyed voice call from behind. The man the voice belonged to was a dark haired Austrian, with a curl that stuck out from the top of his head, and a mold the size of a pupil.

"Hi, Roderich! Sorry, I can't help it, he's just so cute!" She gave a sheepish grin at Roderich. He simply smiled. His smile seemed to make Elizabeta blush because she was as red a tomato, whatever that is.

"So, you made a meal, right Elizabeta?" Roderich asked from behind a notebook he was reading. Lovino heard a faint 'Yes, dear' from inside the kitchen. Oh, they must be married, then. Lovino thought to himself as she came out with plates, forks, napkins, and glasses(a sippy-cup for Lovino, which made him say "I'm not a child, dammit!"). The meal was very filling. Lovino ate most of the things Elizabeta called 'tomatoes'. He absolutly LOVED them. They were a very tangy taste, yet sweet at the same time. Lovino fell asleep at the table about 20 miuetes after his meal.

Elizabeta picked him up, careful not to wake him. "S-so cute!" She felt some blood come out of her nose.

Lovino woke up, once again, late in the afternoon. He had been in and 's house for almost 4 years now. He was set on a perticular schedual, which he had to go outside at certain times, and inside at certain times. He hated it, but at least he got tomatoes. There weren't any children besides a boy named Claus[1], who really got on his nervs. Other than that, he was in Heaven it seemed like.

Today, however, was Sunday. He could do whatever he wanted while Roderich and Elizabeta were at church. He trotted down the stairs, to the front door. Pushing it open, he ran outside, to the lake. He loved the noise, how peaceful it was.

He grabbed an apple from a near by tree and started to munch on it, but suddenly.

"Ve~, what a pretty day!" He heard a high-pitched voice call. Others would have thought it was a girl, but Lovino knew who it was.

He heard the boys foot steps get close to the tree. "Claus? Is that you?" He heard the voice say. He closed his eyes. It can't be, can it? No no no, Grandpa has him. He said I'll never see him again. Lovino opened his eyes to see the person he least expected to see.

"VE!" The boy called.

"F-Feliciano..."

Yesums. This is a cliff-hanger. Sorry for the crappy spelling. I suuck. Okay so [1]-Claus is Holy Roman Empire. I couldn't think of another name so

deal with it man. The next chapter will be out tomorrow. I promise! Sorry for the lack of updating! Next chapter is Feliciano!

P.S.: I am currently writing a new story called "Remembering me, Remembering You" It's a Romerica story. Please check it out!~ There's also GerIta, and FrUk.



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Hey everyone. Sorry to keep y'all waitin'. Here's chapter 4~ BTW this is in Feliciano's point of view in the first half, then the _ signifys, POV change~

Ch.4: Feliciano

"Claus?" I looked around the tree and saw a boy that looked exactly like me, except for a curl on the opposite side. The boy turned around and, he looks exactly like me!

"V-VE?" I became very nervous as the boy came closer to my face. He had faint little tears in his eyes.

"F-Feliciano?" He asked me. Ve? How does he know my name? I thought for a moment on who this boy could be. Cousin? No, we look to similar. Friends? Barely. Twin Brothers?...That could be a possibility. Should I ask him? I don't know...well, it's worth a try?

"Are you...do you happen to be related to Grandpa Rome?" That sounds like a good enough question to ask. The look on his face drastically changed from surprised to a very angry face.

"That fucking bastard? Oh, hell yes I am. He's my Grandpa too, idiot." The boy gave a 'hmpf' at the end of his statement. As soon as he said he was related to Grandpa, I knew who he was. I felt tear fall down my face.

"Fratello![1]I've missed you so much! It's been at least 8 years since I have last seen you! Grandpa said you ran away...ve~" My big brother. Here again with me. I never really knew why he had left[2], but I'm just so glad he's back. I pulled him into a tight hug.

"L-let go, bastard! I didn't run away! That old bastard took you away while I was getting water. I-I-...d-dammit..." He started to cry. I don't want to see my brother cry! That's horrible! I did the first thing that came into my mind. I grab him by the face, and kissed him square on the lips. He stoped crying, which was good, but he was a very bright red color. Did I cause him to get sick?





"Ve? Did I do something wrong? Are you alright, Lovino?" Lovino just kept staring at with his eyes widened, and curl scrunched up.

I couldn't believe it.

Feliciano, just kissed me.

It must be some weird, messed up dream of Elizabeta's.

She's into that shit, Yaoli and Increst...or whatever.

But, I mean, I totally am not. He seriously just kissed me. I really don't have a clue on what to say. I know my face has to be bright red,though.

Dammit. Fucking dammit.

I run inside to get Elizabeth and Roderich to help. Mostly Elizabeta because Roderich, never helps.

"Ve! Eliza! Mi fratello is sick! Please help!" I grab her skirt and pull her to where we were. She finds Lovino crouched down under a bush. She removes any branches in her way, a meet Lovino eye to eye.

"Lovino, are you OK? Your making your brother worry very much. I'm very worried too, sweetie." She gave him a sweet smile and a hand to stand up. He reluctently grabbed her hand, and stood up.

"Now. What seems to be the problem?" Elizabeta asked us. We both looked at her for a good 6 seconds. Other than her 'hmm?', it was silent. Until I spoke up.

"Ve, Fratello was crying about Grandpa being a bastard and lying to me, and so to make him stop cry I kissed him." Elizabeta's eyes had widened and her nose started to bleed just a bit.

"O-oh. I see. Well, Lovino, Feliciano, ummm..." She didn't know what else to say, so she made a break for it inside yelling 'I finally have an OTP~~~'

It's been about 4 months living with Feliciano after the kiss, and I have figured out how much I missed him. His sweet smile, his little 've'ing and most of all, his kindness toward me. He never judged me, maybe because he is just too small to understand, but, I can tell he loves his big brother...Just thinking about it, makes me feel, a little happy. Dammit. I'm a little happy.

"Hey, Feliciano!" I yelled through the window. Then I saw him. Talking to my little brother. The most amazing thing I have ever seen.

"Ve~ Spain! You're here! has been waiting for you. Please come inside!" I grab his hand and take him inside. I can't wait until he meets fratello. I can tell that they would be really good friends.

"Ah. Spain. Welcome, and I hope Feliciano hasn't been too much of a burden to you." Roderich glared at me. He always does this, but it's really scary.

"Oh, no. Not a problem at all!~ So, you wanted to discuss somethings with me?" He winked at Roderich and Roderich flushed. I wonder what they are talking about?

"Yes, follow me. Feliciano? Go fetch your brother, and you two should play outside. It's very nice." Roderich asked me. It was more like an order though.

"Ve~ But I wanted to go play with Clau-"

"Claus is very busy! Do as I say, you fool!" Roderich cut me off. I felt a single tear fall down my face. I simply nodded an 'OK' and ran upstairs to my brother.

Feliciano came running up the stairs, bawling to me about ' yelled at me! So scary!' I really wanted to beat the shit out of that Austrian mole-rat. I hate him, anyways.

"Ve~ Let's just go play outside. OK?" Feliciano took my hand(which I blushed at) and we went outside through the padio door.

It was very nice outside. Few clouds covered the sky as it was in the middle of May, almost summer. Me and Feliciano ran around outside until we had gotten hungry.

"Hey, there's a nearby apple tree. Let's go get some!" I yelled after we finished our game of Princess and Knights. Our cat, Pasta, being the dragon. After we ate our apples, we fell asleep under the tree. The warm sun on our already sun-kissed skin and caused us to be fatigued.

~~~~Later~~~~

I woke up to being carried by someone. I took in the man's scent. He smelled of soil and tomatoes. Mmm tomatoes~. I looked up to see who was carrying me and the man stopped.

"Hola, mi querido[3]." As soon as I heard his voice, I passed out again, only to hear 'Oh, my poor Lovi~'

Yessir, I really liked this chapter. Itacest for those who like it~ Loool, on to translations:

Translations and Understandings:

[1]Fratello: Brother (Italian)

[2]: Grandpa Rome lied to Feliciano about Lovino, saying that he ran away, really when Feliciano was taken away.

[3]Mi Querido: My dear(Spainish)

If my translations are wrong, I am sorry! I'm just going off my prior knowlodge of various languages. I hope everyone liked the chapter! See everyone next time!



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Sorry for being a bit late on this! Here's chapter 5 of Why Lovino Hates His Life~ I do not own Hetalia or the Characters!

Chapter 5: Antonio

"Mi tomate~ time to wake up~!" I heard a soft voice call me from my slumber. I open my hazel eyes to see a very handsome Spaniard with bright green eyes, and tossled chocolate locks. He smelt of tomatoes, which made me blink a couple of times. Who the hell is this guy?

"Oi, bastardo, who the hell are you and where is Feliciano?" I ask him. He smiles at my cursing.

"He's at Roderich's house. We just got here about 3 hours ago. I wanted to wake you, but you just looked so cute when you sleep, I couldn't wake you~!" He said with that stupid happy-go-lucky grin on his face. Wait. Did he just say that Feliciano is at Roderich's house? Then where the hell am...

"CHIGIII! YOU KIDNAPPER! YOU TOOK ME FROM MI FRATELLO, BASTARDO!" I screamed at him from the top of my 10 year old lungs. I couldn't believe it...not again. First Grandpa Rome, now...this guy? Who the hell does he think he is? I headbutt him right in the stomach, causing him to spit out a bit of blood. I smirk. Serves him right...He grabs my by the hand and takes me to a dirty room.

"You are to clean this room. As a punishment, if this room isn't clean in 2 hours, you will get a time-out. OK?" He flashed a quick smile at me, and closed the door, locking it.

"God dammit..." I swear to myself.

After cleaning the room(somewhat), I fall asleep, getting tired of waiting for him. Almost 3 seconds later, he opens the door.





"Oh, little Lovi~ are you done cleaning?" He looked around the room. Letting out a gasp, he said,

"Wow, you're pretty good, not as good as Feli, but still good! Here's your reward~!" He hands me a tomato. I greedily take it from his hands and he smiles and pats my head.

"Oh wow, Lovi~! You sure do like tomatoes! I'll have to get more out of my garden~!" The cheery Spaniard said to me. I gave him a very shocked look. He has a garden of tomatoes? I love this man even more!( Not that I loved him before...dammit.)

"H-hey. I never got to learn your name, yet you know mine. What is your name, bastard." He turned to me, surprised, and then smiled again.

"Antonio Fernandez Carriedo, at your service~!" Antonio said winking at me. I blushed a bright red. Dammit, how can this be so...aii!

Ever since that day, I have been keeping a journal entry on my feelings. It's not a diary, dammit!

Dear Journal,

Today, Antonio made me some churros. I ate them all and then fell asleep. Later that day, he woke me from my nap and took me to his tomato garden. He asked if I could help him by grabbing the best tomatoes I could find. I found at least ten and put them in my skirt and carried them over to him. "Wow, Lovi~ You sure do have an eye for big tomatoes!" I blushed a bit at what he said, and called him a 'tomato bastard'. Now it's almost bedtime and he kissed my forehead and read me a bedtime story. His stories are always the best. Damn, I'm tired. Well, Good night then.

-Lovino Vargas 8-11 Age:10

It was about 7 in the morning before Lovino woke up. 5 years had worn on him since he started the journal entry. Groaning and pulling the covers off of himself, he made his way down the hall to wake up a certain Spaniard.

"Antonio, wake the fuck up. Make me some breakfast, dammit." He poked Antonio in the face and heard him mumble something in Spanish. Lovino was starting to get pissed.

"I said wake the fuck up! Bastardo!" What Lovino didn't notice, was the big long gash on Antonio's chest. Has he been fighting with that stupid Scone Bastard over his ship again? The worried Italian boy grabbed a cup of water and splashed on Antonio's face.

"C'mon...c'mon..wake up bastard..." Lovino said to himself as he kept trying to wake him up. It was no use though, as he heard the clack of heels coming twords the door. There stood Antonio's boss, a mean look on her face as always. She has never liked Lovino, taking Spain away from her and causing him so much trouble.

"He's sick. You better leave him be, Italian." She told him darkly as she went to change the rag on his forehead. She shooed him away.

"Go make yourself useful and make your own God Damn breakfast, your worthless child. Frustrated and on the brink of crying, Lovino obeyed and made himself some pasta for breakfast. Scurriing down the steps, he heard Antonio call his name.

"L-lovi...L-ovi...Lovino..."

Hey everyone! Sorry, I'm not dead, I just haven't been able to post anything for awhile. But I'm back! Thanks for being patient. This is technically 2 parts. The next one will be Turkey, but Spain will be mainly a part of it. It should be up next weekend! Alright, see you guys later!



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Wow. I have no excuse for this being late...sorry. OTL

Ch.6 Sadiq

It took a few months, but Antonio was getting better and better. He could walk down a flight of stairs by the 2nd month. And now, being 5 months, he could make breakfast for Lovino. As always, he made him tomato omlets.

"Antonio! I'm hungry, dammit!" Lovino hollered over the counter. Antonio hurried his motions with the frying pan and sprinkled a bit of oregano onto the yellow fluffy triangle. Careful of sharp corners, he quickly maneuvered the food to Lovino. After a short, quiet prayer, Lovino began to dig in, making cute little grunting noises as he ate.

"Be careful, Lovi~ If you eat to fast, you might choke~!" Antonio said playfully.

"Shdmp, dmmt!" Lovino swallowed heavily, letting his puffed up cheeks deflate. Antonio chuckled lightly, and ruffled Lovino's hair. Such a cute kid... He thought.

Lovino was glad to see his flashy Spaniard better, but he had a terrible way of showing it. He once even tried to plow the garden; which sadly, failed miserably. He needed to try something better...





The little Italian had heard of the town speaking on a certain topic: Día de San Valentín[1]. It was a day common for friends and family to share feelings for each other, so Lovino thought of it as a way to express friendship. Of course, if you call friendship yelling and calling your buddies 'bastards!'.

Lovino decided to go what they call "Window Shopping'' and snoop for something Antonio would like.

He stopped at a little shop called El Barco Amarillo[2] where little nicknacks were hanging from strings and wind-chimes fluttered little tunes. Looking for something Antonio would like, he came across the impossible; a turtle wind-chime. 5 big green turtles were hanging from each chime, along with about 3 other small glass turtles hanging from strings, and to top it off, the color scheme was red, yellow, red. Perfection, would be the word he used to describe this...this...masterpiece. Lovino, using his quick moving feet, ran to the cashier, who was being flirted with by some horribly illiterate Spaniard.

"¿U-uh .. cuánto es esto, Ma'am?[3]" Lovino mustered up all of his courage to speak the foreign language. The woman smiled.

"Ah, usted no está de por aquí, verdad?[4]" The woman noted his Italian accent. He nodded shyly. "Bien entonces, está sobre la casa. Usted es un niño lindo, de todos modos.[5]"Lovino smiled brightly and nodded again.

"Gracias!" The woman giggled and wrapped up the best wind-chime ever.

Antonio was sitting by his desk, checked through his work, when Lovino suddenly stopped at his open door. He turned around and and gave him a cheery smile.

"Ah, Lovino! What brings you here? Have you finished cleaning?" Lovino didn't answer until he was a few feet from Antonio.

"Si, I did."

"Que? Really! That's fantastic! Is that all you needed..or...?" He didn't finish his sentence before a little blue box was shoved at his chest.

"I-Il giorno di Valentino felice, bastardo![6]" When Antonio looked up, Lovino had scurried off. Curious, he opened this box, and out came something extraordinary. A beautifully glass turtle wind-chime. Antonio couldn't help but let a blush creep upon his face. S-so cute~

"I'm going to fratello's for a little bit. In celebration for our birthday." Lovino spoke monotoniously. Antonio looked at him in disbelief.

"WHAT? Alone? There are creepers like France out there! You can't go alone! I'll go with you!" He pleaded his little henchman. Lovino rolled his amber eyes.

"I'll be fine, bastardo. I don't need you, so don't follow me!" He shook a finger at Antonio, and threw his cloak on. "I'm leaving now. Goodbye." With his last words being said, he slammed the huge dark oak door shut. Dios Mio[7]... Antonio thought.

Stupid Spanish bastard...thinkin' I can't visit Feliciano alone. I mean, it's my home! My OWN FUCKING HOME! I swear...sometimes he's like my mother or something. Lovino kept walking as he reached a small pond. He knelt down on the ground a scooped up water in his tiny milky white hands. He made a small 'mrph' and stood back up. Then, a random rustle of branches caught his attention

That bastard's probably following me right now. He turned around, and nobody was there. O..kay that's a bit creepy. Well, I know he's following me! I can just hear his footsteps now...

*Chirp Chirp!* Lovino looked behind him and saw a little yellow bird, singing to him.

"Shut up, you stupid fucking bird!" He yelled at the creature. *Chirp Chirp!* The bird sang again, as if it was mocking him. Lovino picked up a huge rock and threw it at the bird. It flew away almost instantly, barely missed the rock.

"Cheh, your mother must have taught you well, bastard." He turned abruptly back to the pond, and watched the fish swim by. I need to be stronger, to help Antonio with his work. The last time I did, I almost ruined his whole yard. He always thinks I need his help, which I don't! I'm not a fucking baby anymore. I'm almost 12 years old(human years, anyway)! Everyone thinks I'm the weaker one, when really, it's Feliciano! He's the one who cried over some boy for almost a century! Who's the weak one now, Feliciano? WHO? Lovino sighed,I just wish to be stronger...I want to protect Antonio and fratello from all of the bad guys out there...I want to be stronger to help them out sometimes, I need to be stronger..I just have to... Lovino was shook from his thoughts when he saw a tall, dark figure's reflection behind him.

"Hello, my new little territory~" The dark figure laughed menacingly, and grabbed Lovino's hand. Lovino swong around and kicked the man, fighting for his life.

"Let go of me, bastard! ANTONIO! I KNOW YOU'RE OUT THERE I CAN SMELL YOU FROM HERE!" Lovino screamed the Spaniard's name as he continued to fight; which in the end, the man caught him into his grip.

"Well, that was easy~ You will now be a part of the continuously growing, Ottoman Empire. Welcome, Kuzey İtalya[8].

Happy Valentine's Day Everyone! I wanted to post this just in time, and here it is! Sorry for the long wait, my dedicated readers ;)

Though my day hasn't been to keen(seeing as I was rejected by a guy I've liked for awhile now), It might seem a bit rushed. Sorry about that OTL

Also, the next chapter will be more Spain centered, when he is trying to rescue Roma from Turkey's clutches. Man, I love cliff-hangers XD

Translations:

[1]-Valentine's Day(Spanish)

[2]-The Yellow Boat(Spanish)

[3]-U-uh...how much does this cost, Ma'am?(Spanish)

[4]-Ah, you're not from around here, are you?(Spanish)

[5]-Well then, it's on the house. You're a cute kid, anyways.(Spanish)

[6]-Happy Valentine's Day, bastard!(Italian); Lovi is so tsundre~

[7]-My God(Spanish)

[8]-North Italy(Turkish); He says 'North Italy' because Romano is seen as the weaker one, and since the North is youngest/weakest..you get the point XD

Alright, thank you guys so much for waiting! You have no idea how happy that makes me .3. See you next week~ Happy Valentine's Day!

Travel

Love the enemy