At first I planned it to be one-shot, but I gave up and decided to make it two-, maybe three-shot. Anyway- you know I love reviews, so if you want to see next chapter show me how much you care XD.

One-sided Italian Civil War

South Italy wore a straw hat and took the basket in his hand. He was waiting for this day whole three months. The tomatoes outside his house were ripe enough to harvest them. They were big and so tastefully red… Romano just couldn't wait to go and gather them all. He was going to do later pasta or pizza with his newly harvested tomatoes. Besides, the harvesting itself was always making him relaxed. He felt some kind of satisfaction, when he was gathering his own tomatoes, which he himself planted and was taking care of during whole year.

He walked down the stairs, passed the hallway and moved across living room to come out to the garden. The sun in the windows was shining brightly, but he was prepared. He had so good mood that probably if someone came to Italies and looked in his direction, he/she wouldn't believe his/her eyes. His usual grimace was gone. He was walking through the yard with carefree steps. Only one door was separating him from view of his beloved tomato field. When he turned the knob and opened it; when he looked at the garden; when he saw his yard; when his expectations met with what was waiting for him, he couldn't believe his eyes.

His brother was harvesting his tomatoes. Seeing Romano, Feliciano grinned and waved to him innocently.

"Hello, brother! You were really tired last night, so I decided to harvest your tomatoes!"

Romano hadn't said anything. He was only standing in the open door and staring blankly at his tomato field. Feliciano gathered almost all of them, only three-four were left on the bushes. And North Italy bowed under one of them. Like in the slow motion, he caught it, detached the fruit from petiole and put it gently in the basket.

Feliciano's grinned face dropped, when he saw the expression of shock on his brother's face and Romano's lack of response.

"Brother, are you OK?"

Romano couldn't take it anymore.

"I hate you!" He screamed and got back to the house, harshly closing the door behind himself.

Then he ran upstairs to his bedroom. Feliciano was fallowing him, constantly asking with concern, what happened, but South Italy was too angry with him to answer. He locked himself in the room, leaned his back on the door and sat on the floor. Soon he heard the steps of North Italy, who quickly ran to him and tried to open the entry to his brother's bedroom. It was useless. Feliciano quickly realized it and left doorknob alone.

"Brother! Brother, open it, please."

"No fucking way!"

"But, brother, what have I done wrong now?"

"I don't want to see your face, you damn twat!"

"Brother, I don't understand, why you're so mean to me! Come on, get out from here and let's talk!"

"Get off, Feliciano! I hate you!"

"Brother, please…"

"Are you deaf? I said: get off!"

"OK. I will come back, when you'll chill out."

Romano heard, how his little brother is retreating. Soft steps were going down the stairs, becoming quieter and quieter with every second. Soon South Italy heard nothing, but chirping of birds from the outside. And once again he felt that they were mocking him.

In one quick moment this beautiful morning had been shuttered. Romano still was seeing this scene before his eyes: Feliciano harvesting his tomatoes. And South Italy couldn't resist the impression that his little brother was like an octopus – he had to take all things around him with those tentacles of his. Feliciano was good at trade. OK. His paintings were amazing. Fine. He could easily make new acquaintances and people liked him more. Good. Romano had reconciled with it all long time ago. He had let go with the fact that his brother was better than him in almost everything. He came to conclusion that it would be the best if he will stay away from most of his brother's specialties and take care of his own ones.

But it seems, the only thing that belonged to Romano, wasn't sacred enough for Feliciano to not take it too. Damn little bastard… Romano hadn't remembered, when he was so mad at his brother last time. He wanted to punish him in some way. Not in physical way, of course, but in the way that will clearly show Feliciano, how much his older brother is pissed at him.

He was thinking about it whole morning. The only other thing, he was eventually pondering, was his brother's crime and the way he was so annoyingly better in everything, Romano wasn't – from the abilities to the attention of others. And Romano felt so unloved and so overlooked that he was angry with Feliciano even more. North Italy came few times to ask him, what's wrong and do he want to stay in his room all day, but South Italy was only yelling at him to go away. So North was retreating and leaving South alone with his anger.

Meanwhile his stomach started to growl, delicately telling Romano that he should soon eat something. His hunger was slowly growing and Romano wondered, what to do – wait for Feliciano to do dinner or go to the restaurant. At first he was seriously considering going out, since he remembered that North Italy's cooking is also better than his own and that he would probably have to watch him during whole dinner. But then he thought that meal with his brother was giving him lots of opportunities.

Around 2 o'clock he heard steps in the hallway. Few seconds later someone knocked to his door and soon Feliciano had spoke cheerfully:

"Brother! I've made pasta! Come, eat with me!"

Romano unlocked his bedroom and opened. He shot his brother one, really cold gaze, then turned back to him and closed the door. He began to walk downstairs to the kitchen, don't looking at Feliciano nor saying a word to him.

"Brother, are you still mad at me?" Feliciano asked.

No response. Good, Romano. That's how it should be done.

"Brother?"

Silence. Let him ponder about it deeper. Let him feel your anger in subtle way. Let him know that you won't forgive him easily.

"Brother, why are you mad at me?"

Romano wanted to answer, but he remained silent. Feliciano should come to it few hours ago, but Romano didn't want to help him. After all North Italy wasn't that thickheaded.

South Italy sat the table, leaning his chin on hand and looking at the window. North Italy was observing him with concern. When Romano's eyes rolled in Feliciano's way, he saw expression of fear on this usually cheerful face. He fought with himself to not smile upon this view. Feliciano seemed to be near to cry, but after a moment of just standing in one place, he quickly moved to the kitchen. After few minutes he came back with plates of pasta in both hands. He put one of them in front of Romano and the other on his right. He returned to kitchen and brought forks. He quickly gave one to his brother and sat at the place beside him. He smiled lightly to Romano, but South Italy ignored him, took the fork and began to eat his dinner in silence. North Italy's smile dropped and he only focused on the meal.

But he couldn't stay silent for a long.

"Hey, brother." He began with smile. "you want to hear funny story?"

Silence. Romano was only eating. Feliciano's smile dropped, but he grinned again.

"Well, me and Ludwig were walking through the Venice, "He began, gesticulating vividly." And guess what? He said that he want to sail on gondola. But when he found one, he started to hesitate. Imagine, brother! He was afraid of falling into water! When I convinced him to take this ride, he started to be extra careful. He cautiously put one foot into gondola, then another and he slowly sat on the bench, sighing with relief. Such big guy and he was getting into small boat like a young girl!" He laughed.

Romano's lips twitched upon thought of girly Germany, but he quickly returned to being serious and ignoring his brother. Seeing that his little trick didn't work, Feliciano cleared his throat and tried again, grinning:

"You know, brother, Kiku said, he had read Decameron, but he was acting strange, when he returned it to me. He said it was," Feliciano made a 'quote' gesture." 'too shameless for his liking'." He giggled once again.

And again he received no response from his brother. Feliciano's expression changed from cheerful to sad. He took few bites of pasta, but after nearly three minutes of silence, he couldn't take it anymore. Normally, when North Italy done something, which made South Italy angry, the older of brothers was exclaiming his pretences at him. But this time Romano was silent. And he was treating Feliciano like an air. This was driving younger Italian crazy.

"Brother, why are you mad at me?" He asked for the fourth time this day. When Romano didn't even looked at him, Feliciano said with more frantic tone: "Please, tell me! I don't know, what's wrong! If you could explain it to me, I would try to fix it."

South Italy took the last bite of the pasta, gulped it and wiped his mouth with the napkin. Then he carried his dishes to the kitchen's sink and started preparing to leave. He wore his boots and went to the room to take his wallet. When he was downstairs again, he ran to the front door. Whole this time Feliciano was only sitting on his seat and observing it with sad gaze. He thought that maybe his brother need some fresh air, so he wasn't protesting or asking any questions. He also didn't run after his brother, when he heard, how door had been closed.

Waiting for him was the most cruel, psychical torture, Italy had been put in since really long time. Romano wasn't coming back home for so long that Feliciano managed to finish his pasta, wash the dishes, take a two-hour (rather restless) nap, wash Romano's tomatoes, calling to Spain, in case Romano was there (he wasn't) and in addition spend rest of the afternoon and evening walking from one side of the living room to another. South Italy hadn't called even once, like he wouldn't care that his little brother is longing for him and he want to apologize for whatever he had done.

It was 6 pm and North Italy still didn't know, why South Italy was so mad at him. Not that Feliciano wasn't thinking about it. He spent most of this day, wondering what he had done to Romano that he wasn't yelling at him, but treating like an air. Romano always was hard to read. It was always hard to say, what he was thinking or feeling, while he was yelling at somebody. Mostly because the causes of his angry outbursts seemed to be about something stupid or banal. But after deeper thought, it seemed that he was mad at something else, something deeper.

Obviously, this time Feliciano was instantly thinking, Romano didn't like that his brother was messing with his tomato field, but – well – it seemed to be too plain and too banal to be that mad about. Feliciano was many times barrowing and returning, breaking and using Romano's stuff, and Romano always was angry with him for at most fifteen minutes. There was no way, it could be about tomato field. What was the real reason then?

Around midnight, when Feliciano was asleep on the sofa, the front door cracked and Romano came in. North Italy immediately woke up to put his sleepy gaze at South Italy, who was removing his shoes and looked in his direction. Feliciano smiled to him, but he only shot him one, intimidating glance and returned to his shoes. Younger of the men stood up and ran to his brother. He wrapped his arms around Romano and started to scream:

"Brother, please forgive me! I'm sorry, I really do! Please, don't be angry with me!"

Romano pushed him away and once again looked at his brother angrily. With agitated steps he began to climbing on the stairs. Feliciano was observing with sadness, how he was abandoning him in the hallway. When South Italy got upstairs, North Italy heard the unlocking of the door and then harsh slamming of wooden entrance to Romano's bedroom.

That was the moment, when Feliciano couldn't help himself, but cry.