(Originally, there was to be no prologue, but I decided to type a quick one anyway, just to get the entire plot going and all.)

An idea that struck me last night. Though, this is my first official Hetalia fic. *takes in deep breath* The main pairing here is SpaRomPru, with a side dish of GerIta. There is also some implied PruHun, PruCan, PruFran, and PruAus in the next chapter, mostly because of my lengthy Prussia relationship characterization.

Admittedly, Spamano is my second favorite Hetalia pairing (with PruCan being my third, ohmehgawsh, why so many conflicting pairings), so it will probably get some bias from me in this fic. However, I'll try to restrain myself from making it Spamano-centric. I do have a strong love for Prumano, too. Not as strong as my Spamano-love, but it's still somewhere on my top twenty-something favorite Hetalia pairings. Probably like… my sixteenth or something. :P

Not sure when I'll be updating again because of my tight schedule (band camp this week from seven in the morning to eight at night every day, save for Wednesday and Friday, where we get let out five hours earlier) and other projects, but hopefully the updates won't take too long. I'll make this my first priority as of now in terms of writing. Plus, I've already written up half of the first chapter, so it should be all good. :P

Anyway, this is going to be in flowery prose, meaning it'll be very, very descriptive. It's also a different style from what I'm used to, so forgive me if it's all weird and ugly-sounding and tedious to read.

Oh, and just out of curiosity, who do you want Romano to end up with?

Well, anyway, without further ado, I present to you "O, Romano, Romano! Wherefore Art Thou Romano?"—a tale of a young love triangle between Antonio, Romano, and Gilbert. Oh dear. This definitely can't end well...

❝O, Romano, Romano! Wherefore Art Thou Romano?❞

「 ACT 0 」

Human Tug o' War

"A wretched soul, bruised with adversity,
We bid be quiet when we hear it cry;
But were we burdened with like weight of pain,
As much or more we should ourselves complain."
—William Shakespeare, The Comedy of Errors

Romano Lovino Vargas was known infamously for his steely heart, with its lack of reciprocating sentiments from others and its strong loathe for abhorrently sugary romance. He was also known for his crude and uncouth personality, as vulgar expletives managed to echo out of his mouth in a thousand words per second, and he was found rashly pointing his middle finger towards everyone and anyone on more occasions that naught.

Naturally, someone of his nature would indefinitely repel the entirety of the people he's met. In all his twenty-three years of living, that statement indeed held genuine truth. No one dared approach the petulant Italian in fear of being flogged with incessant curses, even despite the Italian's rather handsome and attractive looks (which was more or less second best to his younger brother's adorableness).

Unfortunately, that statement no longer held anymore sincerity in his current situation. This was all thanks to two very different and very aggravating men. On his right was Antonio Fernandez Carriedo, an affable and flamboyant Spaniard with a big heart. On his left was Gilbert Beilschmidt, a self-proclaimed descendent of rare Prussian blood with a big ego.

Antonio, who on occasion was simply referred to as "Toni," was short for his age, but still a few inches above Romano's head. With even sun-kissed skin that glowed with exuberant translucency, forest green eyes constantly exhibiting jubilee, a tousled mess of tawny locks, a perfect build consisting of an impeccable balance between muscle and nothing, and a bright and irresistibly charming grin, the Spaniard was the very epitome of the sweet and oh-so flawless man living in every girl's dreams. His voluptuous Spanish accent also added to the effect of his pull on people's hearts, bringing them deeper down in the abysmal ocean of attraction and captivation. His personality was even absolutely perfect, for the man was insanely optimistic and warmhearted and passionate even at the gravest of hours. Some people have claimed that he was a bit on the oblivious side at times, but that just further increased his alluring charm.

Romano wanted to puke at the sole sight of him.

Gilbert—though, he preferred being called "Gilbo" for reasons unbeknownst to anyone—was a rather tall person at an astonishing height of 5'9" (hey, it was tall in Romano's standards!). His looks could also be described as astonishing. The self-proclaimed Prussian had albino-like qualities to him, with blood red eyes full of malicious intentions contrasting nicely against eerily pallid skin. His hair was a weird shade of very light silver, and his build was similar to the Spaniard's—perfectly toned, perfectly delectable, perfect eye candy. His personality was the exact opposite of the loveable oaf Antonio, as Gilbert was constantly referred to as a "bad boy" for his notorious schemes. Very much on the egotistical side, he has the strange ability to somehow link any kind of conversation back to himself. Nonetheless, despite his rather obsessive amour-propre and his being dubbed as a "bad boy," he still had a big heart when it came to the things he enjoyed. Like his adorable yellow chick, or his nerdy Internet addiction, or (apparently) him, Romano Lovino Vargas.

Romano usually found him bearable (at least, he was a better substitute to the cheery Spaniard, but that might have just been him and his irrational hatred towards Antonio). But the self-proclaimed Prussian was still annoying, and so the Italian attempted to avoid him at all costs. That was practically impossible at the moment, though, because the poor Italian was caught in-between both Antonio and Gilbert, who were pulling Romano's arms in the opposite direction.

As if Romano was a fucking human tug o' war.

"He's mine!" yelled Gilbert in such a harshly possessive tone, it almost scared the living daylight's out of Romano.

"No, no, mi amigo," Antonio deadpanned frighteningly (again, it almost caused Romano to faint due to its horrific content) despite the sanguinary and bloodthirsty smile etched on his face. "My precious Lovi belongs to me."

Romano proceeded to scream out from the strain of his arms being stretched out, his musings fogging with hatred and frustration. But, his stentorian yells proved useless, for both men were oblivious and only directed their attention towards each other in a rivalry fashion.

"Let go of my Romano, you fucking bastard!"

"I'd rather you let go of my Lovi first, bastardo!"

Fuck fuck fuck! The Italian felt as if he would explode from the pain any minute now. However, the two (annoying) men kept on with their little and unprogressive argument, and Romano was left to suffering being forcefully pulled into a totally unasked for love triangle. Something he downright opposed, since he absolutely did not even reciprocate either of their feelings for him! At least, that's what his too-in-denial mind says.

But what of his supposedly steely heart…?

Thoughts, comments, criticism, questions? Should there also be a few minor side pairings, or is the Antonio/Romano/Gilbert love triangle and GerIta enough? I'm open to suggestions.