~ "Keep running Feli! Protect him Lovi!" he called. Rome was broken out in war, and we were struggling to break free from it all. Nonno was keeping them away from us. "Keep running, and don't you ever look back! If I don't make it, remember everything I taught you. Remember me, and remember to keep each other close."

"Nonno!" Feliciano yelled back.

"Dumbass! He told us to keep going! Let's go!" I snapped to my twin brother. ~

We never did look back, but I was reminded of what happened every night when I closed my eyes. Most of the time, I never slept. We were found, at the age of six, by the country of Austria, and also Hungary. We lived with them now, and we were their maids. We were in charge of cleaning and cooking and making sure everyone was happy.

"I miss him fratellone," my twin whispered to me. I nodded, and went back to watching him clean. I did my best, but I only seemed to make bigger messes when I tried to clean, so most of the time, I cooked. I overheard the Austrian and Hungarian bastards talking about how France and Spain were in a battle over the Southern half of Italy: me. Fuck them, I didn't need anyone.

Spain came out the victor, and he showed up to Austria's house. That was the day I was separated from Feliciano, my other half. I told him goodbye and to take good care of himself, and I grabbed what little belongings I had, and left with Spain.

Spain was a creepy man. He seemed pissed off at the whole entire fucking world. I didn't like him, not at all. I could tell my time living him wasn't going to be fun. But I guess I would have to deal with it. Spain is a pirate, so he's gone most of the time. That's what I came to learn. Most of the time, I spent months alone in Spain's house, trying to remember every turn in the mansion.

This time around, Spain has been gone for three months. I cleaned, and tried my best to get better at it. The last time he came home to a dirty house, well, why don't you just ask the scar on my stomach? Or the other nightmares I get? He was mad, and he threw a flower vase, and it broke on my stomach, and the glass somehow cut me, and left a scar all the way across my stomach. The wound took forever to heal, and now there's a scar in its place.

"That stupid idiota! Spanish bastardo! He should just die already!" I yelled.

"Why should I? I love being here, and alive. Romano, why don't you go get the belt?" Spain said from behind me. When the fuck did he get back?! Oh, right, he also occasionally beat me. He beat my back bloody.

"Please, don't," I pleaded with him. I'm eleven now, in case you were wondering. And I guess Spain isn't as bad as he was when I first moved in. That and he fucked every single nation he came across. The sounds echoed through this house, and there wasn't anywhere I could be that I couldn't hear that.

"Oh, I"m going to," he said taking my hand. He led me through the house to what he called the "beating room". I hated this room. This house. This country. This man. I hated everything. I was ficking sick of it all.

"Why? What made you so fucking evil?" I snapped. I yelped as a hand made contact with my face.

"Don't talk to me like that!" he yelled. I saw fear in his eyes then, and it clicked in my head. He was beat. He was yelled at….wasn't he? He was given all the same punishments as me when he was growing up, wasn't he?

"I understand now," I started, cautiously stepping to him, "you were beat...weren't you? Your father or someone did all of this to you too...didn't they? I understand Spain, I understand." I took one of his hands in both of my small ones. "You can tell me you know. I won't judge you. Maybe then I'll share my past and physical and mental scars with you too," I said looking at the shocked expression on Spain's face, and mentally cursing myself for being so nice. Just like Spain, I was becoming more soft. Did it have to do with that tomato bastard?

"Y-you won't judge me? No matter how violent I am/was growing up? You'll understand? You won't leave this house if you know? How do I know if I can trust you or not?" Spain asked, looking at me now, tears threatening to fall from his eyes.

"Why would I? I don't exactly have anywhere else to go. And it's not my place to judge people. And of course you can trust me. I want you to try and change. If not for yourself, then do it...for me," I said turning away from him.

"Romano," Spain said. I heard movement behind me, and then two arms wrapped around my body. His sobs started echoing around us, and I placed my hands on his.

"It's okay Spain, I'm here," I said. His arms gently squeezed me a little harder, and I turned around so his head was on my chest.

"Romano? I think I will...tell you. Everything. But you have to tell me too, okay?" Spain asked.

"Okay, I will. Now, how about I go make us something to eat? Something with...tomatoes?" I said. Spain looked up at me, and a huge smile broke out across his face. And that was the first time Spain smiled at me, and touched me without hurting me. His eyes glew, the emerald orbs shining with tears that were too stubborn to fall. Is this what it felt like to be shown kindness? Or to give it? Or to feel love from another for yourself and not your twin brother?

"Tomatoes sound really good Romano!" Spain said, leading us both back to the kitchen.

"I know that bastard," I said, not being able to keep the tiny smile off my face.

"Why do you have such a foul mouth Romano?" Spain asked me. I contemplated the answer I would give him, and I started slicing the freshly picked and washed tomatoes.

"I just...I don't know exactly. I do know, however, that I didn't use to talk like this. I never did, until people accepted my twin brother more than they did me, even though we're twins," I said, getting out a frying pan.

"People accept Feliciano more than you? Why?" Spain asked. I turned and looked at him, then turned and put a little olive oil in the pan.

"You remembered his name, I'm surprised. You didn't seem to be the kind to remember faces and names. But everyone liked my brother more because he's more talented than I am," I said setting tomato slices in the now hot oil. I sprinkled pepper and salt on them, and threw in chopped garlic.

"I think you're talented Romano. I don't really know Feliciano, but I have a strange feeling that I wouldn't like him," Spain said watching me carefully. I decided to grab some bacon, because it sounded good, and I was cooking it in another pan.

"You might like him, he's a nice person. I kinda miss him," I said shutting off the burner and going to the other one.

"Oh, I almost forgot I took you away from him. Lo siento, Romano," Spain said looking at the ground.

"It's fine dammit," I said bringing a couple of the sandwiches to him.

"I have a question Romano," Spain said after I brought us both a glass of water.

"What is it?" I asked.

"What's your name?" he asked looking up from his plate.

"It's Romano, and you knew that bastardo," I said glaring at him.

"No, no, no. Romano, what's your human name?" Spain asked me.

"Do I have to tell you?" I asked/snapped back at him.

"Si," he said.

"Ugg! Why do I have to tell you?" I asked turning away from him.

"Because," Spain said.

"Give me one good reason to give it to you," I said taking a bite of the sandwich in front of me.

"So I can actually treat you like a person and not just the personification of South Italy that you are," he said finishing off his sandwich.

"What? No!" I yelled at him.

"What? Why not?" Spain asked me.

"I don't fucking know!" I yelled again, my face flushing.

"Romano, why do you look like a tomato?" Spain asked placing a hand on my forehead.

"I don't! Shut up dammit!" I yelled getting up from the table and putting my dishes in the sink and walking out and up the stairs to the balcony I discovered a few weeks ago. I opened and shut the door quietly so Spain wouldn't know where I was. I rushed out into the cool Autumn air, and took a few deep breaths.

I couldn't be. I refused to believe it. I can't be. I can't fall in love with Spain. That's just not right. He's like a father to me! You aren't supposed to fall in love with your father! Hell, you're not supposed to like guys if you are one! I like girls dammit! What the fuck is going on?!

There was a slight knock on the door, and I turned in time to watch the handle turn slowly and the door was pushed open carefully. "Romano?" Spain called out.

"What do you want dammit?" I asked him, leaning against the railing on the balcony.

"Are you okay? Are you mad at me for what I asked?" Spain asked me, coming to join me.

"I'm not mad at you dammit. Stupid idiota. I'm mad at myself. And don't you dare ask what for! I won't tell you!" I said turning to look at Spain's bright, deep, emerald green eyes.

"Oh, okay," he said.

"So, what happened to you...when you were younger?" I asked him after turning away.

"Right, that. Well, my "father"-(yes, he actually air quoted that)-beat me. For everything. Even if it wasn't my fault," Spain said.

"Why?" I asked turning to face him once again.

"I don't really know," Spain started, "even if it was one of my brothers who did something, I still got beat for it. I ran away a few times, but he always hunted me down, and beat me some more. He used different items to beat me, but his favorite was a whip. It caused a lot more damage and pain."

I looked at Spain, and he continued.

"He also yelled at me for everything, and I tried to help my mother with a lot of stuff, but again he'd yell and beat me. He even hit my mom. I don't know why, but that just made me the same way. I don't know why I ever acted that way to you," Spain said breaking down into tears. I walked over to him, and put my arms around his waist, since I was still short, for an eleven year old. "Romano?" Spain asked.

"I'm not mad at you, for anything you've done to me. I know I should be, but in a way I think I deserved it. That's how I see it anyway," I confessed to the broken Spaniard.

"You definitely didn't deserve any of it Romano. You didn't," Spain said tightening his grip on me.

"You sure about that bastard?" I asked.

"Why? Did you deserve it?" he asked me. At that moment, I let go of him and walked over to the opposite side of the balcony.

"I never knew my parents. I only know my nonno," I said turning to look out at the sky.

"Nonno is Italian for grandfather right?" Spain asked me.

"Yes. But anyway, it was just me, Feli, and Nonno. Back in that time, Nonno was teaching Feli and I about different languages, different cultures. By the time I was three in human years, I knew how to speak every language, and art was a passion. But no matter what I did, Feli was still better. Nonno favored him, and I just grew up a lonely child," I said sitting down on the floor of the balcony.

"So that must mean you have trust issues and find it hard to accept people yourself," Spain said looking at me. I nodded and continued.

"I would get into fights with Feli all the time because of it, and Nonno always yelled at me. He never beat me, but it was still hurtful. That damn bastard also decided to go and make himself the strongest empire. The last time I saw Nonno, Feli and I were told to run for our lives and never look back," I said trying to fight not to cry.

"That was around the time the Roman Empire disappeared. So you never saw him again. Lo siento. That must be terrible," Spain said.

"Not really. I mean I loved my grandfather, but I just don't like the fact that he didn't treat me and Feli the same. We are twins, there's not that much of a difference between us," I said wiping more tears from my face.

"What happened after you ran?" Spain asked.

"We were lost for a while, and then Austria found us. He took us back to his house, where we met the Holy Roman Empire and Hungary. Living with Austria proved again that people favored Feli. Holy Rome fell in love with him, Hungary drooled over him, and Austria was happy to have someone who could work," I said hugging my knees to my chest. I completely forgot I was in a dress. I still questioned why I was still in fucking dresses too. I'm eleven dammit!

"And then?" Spain asked, still standing in the same spot he started in. He hadn't looked at me once while I was explaining this to him.

"And then you won sovereignty of me, and you came and took me from Austria's house and away from the only family I had left. When I came here, Belgium taught me how to clean right and she taught me how to make a lot of stuff, and she told me what would make you happy," I said feeling my face flush. Now was the only time Spain had decided to look at me.

"Femke taught you how to make me happy? She must have really hated me when I beat you," Spain said dropping his head.

"She never really spoke to me about what was going on with me, but every now and then she treated my wounds and let me sleep in her room," I said.

"And then she became independent," Spain finished.

"Yep. And then I was left with you, and I knew how to treat my wounds, but I could never reach, so I hoped like hell none of them would become infected," I said. At that moment, Spain was in front of my face. He reached down and pulled me up. I felt it as he twisted me around by my hips and tore the dress off of me. I could tell he was curious about my wounds.

"Your back Romano," Spain whispered. I could tell he was holding back a sob.

"Full of battlescars," I said kneeling to the ground, "most of them are still sore, but a lot have scarred."

"Lo siento...lo siento mucho Lovino," Spain said now crying behind me.

"Va tutto bene. Ti perdono, per tutto. Per favore mi guardi, io ti perdono Spain," I said, not knowing if he would understand or not. Judging by the look on his face, he was clueless.

"What?" he asked.

"It's not important," I said wincing as the breeze came again and washed cool air over the open cuts on my back. Spain then picked me up and started walking back into the house. I decided not to fight his control, and just held on to him, out of fear of being dropped. He took me into his room and straight to his bathroom. He started running water in the tub and then walked out. He walked back in with what looked like an old shirt of his, and a pair of my underwear. That bastard was in my room.

"Get into the water Romano," Spain said taking his shirt off, and then I noticed he had more clothes there, and then it dawned on me that we were about to bathe together.

"O-okay," I stuttered, removing what was left of the dress I had on and my undergarments. I then stepped into the tub, and sat down in the burning water. Spain followed shortly after.

"The first thing I want to do is wash your wounds. If it gets to be too much pain, just let me know, and I can stop," Spain said getting a washcloth ready with some soap. He then carefully started rubbing my wounds. It wasn't as bad as I thought it would be, until he hit the middle of my back.

"O-oh god!" I yelled, "please stop!" I said now slightly crying. Spain's arms then wrapped around my tiny sobbing frame.

"L-lo s-siento," Spain choked out.

"Give my your hand," I said. Spain reached out his other hand and I grabbed it. "Okay, you can continue now," I said making sure I had a firm grip of his hand.

"I'll try to be a little more careful," he said. He started washing the spot on the middle of my back again, and I firmly gripped his hand, for the support. He squeezed back slightly, and moved on.

Around an hour later, Spain was wrapping bandages around my back to cover my wounds. As soon as he was done, I pulled the old shirt over my head and told Spain good night then headed to my room. I layed down and thought about what had gone on that day. If you can remember me telling you, I don't sleep very good. I keep having nightmares about my nonno and Spain. After deciding I wasn't going to get any sleep, I headed for the balcony down the hall. "Why couldn't I tell Spain my real name? What was stopping me?" I asked myself, and the night air.

"I was wondering the same thing," I heard from behind me, "you should really wear a shirt out here, it's cold," Spain finished putting a blanket around my body.

"Grazie," I said turning to Spain. He was looking down at me smiling.

"So, what's up Romano?" Spain asked.

"Can't sleep," I said, turning back to the night sky.

"Why?" Spain said, now talking in a smaller voice.

"Nightmares. They won't stop," I said wiping my cheek.

"What about?" Spain asked coming a little closer.

"You, Feliciano, and Nonno," I said now crying harder than before. Spain took he in his arms and started whispering Spanish in to my ear, calming me down.

"Sleep with me tonight Romano," Spain said grabbing my hand and dragging me back into the house. I followed, too tired to care about it. Spain and I entered his room, and he shut the doors behind us. He lead us over to his giant bed,(I'm not kidding, that thing is huge!), and helped me into one side. He got in on the other side, and took my hand. After a little while, I looked at Spain's face, and saw his calm, sleepy emerald green eyes watching me in curiosity.

"My name is Lovino," I whispered, right before Spain fell asleep. And I never did have a better night sleep.