Why? Why can't I tell him? Spain sits there, cheery smile and all, reading some kind of book, and I stare at him from over my own book, "Perche Ti Amo?" I've read it so many times, and now I hide in the bathroom or locked in my bedroom while I read the ending because I place Spain and myself in the characters' shoes. The characters were so much like us that…it was unbelievable.

I think Italy meant to do that. He was the one who gave me the book, stupid little brother. But I always place myself in the girl's point of view, Mila, and Spain into Gino's point of view. Mila was a village maiden, and Gino was in love with her. He kept asking her to marry him, but she kept rejecting him because she was too proud to admit her love for him. And then Gino grew depressed and killed himself and Mila killed herself to be with him.

Anyways, I stared at Spain, like always. Today he was humming an Italian lullaby he used to sing to me when I was a child, afraid of the dark (among other things). Why didn't he sing me Spanish lullabies? He did, but he overheard me singing it to Italy once, and found out that it was my favorite song. His sweet voice mixed with the beauty of that lullaby got me to sleep very effectively.

I moved my book away as I sneezed. Spain smiled at me. "Ah, Lovi~, your sneezes are so cute!" He grinned.

"Whatever," I growled, my cheeks heating up. Spain looked back down at his book. "I'm hungry!" I complained loudly. Spain sighed and got up. But I was already disappearing into the kitchen. He followed me, still humming. "Are you trying to lull me to sleep, jackass?" I asked.

"Possibly." I rammed my head into his chest for his mocking smile. I made dinner, pasta because Italy had brought over way too much ingredients for pasta, and we ate with light talk, mostly about the tomatoes. Then I got up, bored out of my mind, and walked over to my gaming system. While raiding an American house with my mafia, I found this incredible gaming system called a 'Wii.' My favorite game was a war game.

Spain picked up his own controller, and smirked at me. I took his unspoken challenge, selecting the Italian character, Demarco, a man who looked a lot like Italy, except without the hair and buffer. I liked him because he was agile. Spain, on the other hand, took the Spanish character, Alberto, who looked considerably like him, except ugly, and he didn't smile…and he had a mustache.

In choosing our enemies, before Spain could touch it, I clicked the Germans and the French. That means they were on Spain's team. Spain chose Austria and Turkey. I glared at him for choosing Turkey.

"I'm sorry, mi tomate," He apologized with that smile, ugh, that smile! Did he know it made my heart beat against my ribcage rather painfully?

"Asshole," I muttered, and then took the first shot, killing a German. "Ha!" I cried. A Turkish soldier to my left died. "Hey!" I cried.

"Damn, I have horrible aim in video games," Spain mumbled. I glared at screen two, his screen, and shot at him. "Shit!" He barely dodged.

I hid behind a rock, waiting until a few Germans walked by and shot them all. One got me in the arm, lowering my health. "Damn it," I growled. I looked down as Spain threw something on his screen. "Wha-?" a bomb landed in front of me. "SHIT!"

I raced away from it as fast as my character would go, barely getting away before it exploded. I hid behind a rock, next to a few Austrians. I watched Spain's character sneak up behind a group of Austrians, next to a rock. WAIT!

I waited until he killed the group, and then when he turned to corner I hit him in the back of the head with my gun. He fell onto his back, knocked out for a moment.

"Please, Romano, spare me. Have mercy," Spain pleaded, as if his life was on the line. I shook my head to clear the thoughts coming to my head, but they wouldn't leave.

I saw myself and Spain in war. I saw myself knock him over and point my gun at him. He was under me now. He begged me to have mercy. I picked him up and kissed him passionately. And then he was under me again, screaming my name…oh God, stop, stop, stop!

I shot a German, and then sighed. "Fine, I'll-" Spain's character shot at me, wasting half of my health. I groaned loudly and threw my last bomb. Spain laughed, not noticing the bomb next to his character.

Until it went off. Spain's laughing stopped immediately. He gawked as the words flashed on the screen: Italians Win! "Note to self: in war, do not show Spain mercy," I smirked.

"Who says you'll ever fight against me in war?" Spain snickered. I glared harshly at him. He assumed I'd always be his little South Italy. One day, when I got enough power, I'd declare war on Spain. "One day. I'm not his cute little shadow, always tagging along. I want to be as equal as him, but for now-"

Suddenly, Spain glomped me. "You aren't my little shadow, querido!" He cried. I-I had said it out loud!

"G-g-get off me, asshole!" I shouted. Spain chuckled and ruffled my hair, sweeping his hand across that one damned curl. I could feel…feel…I bit my lip as hard as I could, drawing a bit of blood.

Spain leaned forward. "Romano, you're bleeding," He told me. Yeah, no shit. I couldn't stop biting down, or something was going to come out that I'd regret. Spain picked me up, walking into the bathroom with me. He took the First-Aid kit and started to clean up the blood. He touched my lip, and I trembled under his touch.

"S-Spain," I whimpered. Spain cocked his head to the side.

"Si?" I wriggled from his grasp and ran to my room, slamming the door behind me. My heart raced, my breathing ragged. Some areas of my body were significantly harder than usual. Why? Why couldn't I tell him how he made me feel? I took a deep breath.

"A-am I that…revolting?" His voice startled me. I slapped my hand to my mouth to keep the girlish scream from coming out. I opened my mouth to answer, then paused. What if my voice cracked? Then he'd figure out, and I wanted to tell him myself, if I would ever grow a set and actually tell him.

I perked up as Spain's bedroom door slammed shut. I heard a smashing sound, a scream of anger and anguish, and then silence. I felt calm enough to open my own door, walking over to Spain's room and putting my ear to the door. There was a quiet, sad sound.

I remembered the one day that Germany (that fucking potato prick) told Italy he was useless and Italy ran over to my house and was crying. This sound…Spain was crying. Realization was a door to the face…literally.

"Owww~!" I whined, rubbing my face. Spain sniffled.

"Wh-what were you doing in front of the door, idiot?" He asked. I looked up at him. He…he called me an idiot.

"I was…coming in to ask what the fuck you broke!" I shouted, a blush spreading across my face. I was not caring about him!

"I broke the mirror."

I blinked. "How the fuck did…?" He held up his fist, bleeding severely. I cried out, getting to my feet and leading him to the bathroom. This was a painful day; me with my lip, Spain with his fist, me with my head and ass.

Spain watched me get out the First-Aid kit again, and started cleaning out his wounded knuckles. "Why?" I looked up at him, and he stared back with this sad, intent look in his chocolate-brown eyes.

"Why what, jackass?" I mumbled. He pulled his hand away from me, slipping past me out the door. "H-hey!" I cried, running after him. He slammed the door shut, and I slipped and ran right into it. "Owww~!" I whined again, stepping back away from the door.

"Why do you always-!" The door smashed into my face for the third time, though much harder than the other times. Spain looked behind the door. His face paled, and he started to yell something. I couldn't hear him. There was darkness seeping in from all sides.

My legs turned to spaghetti, and I collapsed. Why was the floor so soft and warm and…I looked up and noticed I was in Spain's arms. Oh…that was why. I opened my mouth and started saying something, something in Italian. Spain's eyes widened as I talked. I'm going to regret…my train of thought ended abruptly, as well as my consciousness.

"Don't you dare touch him, France! Prussia, don't break anything! France, get away from him!"

"Jesus, Spain!"

"Mon cheri, relax!"

"I can't! He's been out for a whole hour!"

"…wo~ow, an hour! Calm the fuck down, he'll be fine! I just wish I could see his face when you smashed it!"

"Prussia! I didn't mean to hurt him!"

"Enough of that; tell me again exactly what he said!"

"…'Spagna, mi dispiace per ogni volta che io abbia mai spezzato il cuore. Non riesco a riconoscere come mi sento veramente di te. Spagna ... ti amo la Spagna. Mi dispiace-' and then he passed out." (Spain, I'm sorry for every time I've ever broken your heart. I just can't admit how I really feel about you. Spain...I love you Spain. I'm sorry I-)

My head hurts, my face hurts, my ass hurts, and now I find out that I confessed to Spain? A hand strokes my cheek. Prussia's voice started to speak.

"When will you tell him?"

Silence followed the question. And that's when I whimpered, shifting slightly and opening my eyes. Spain stood over me, a relieved smile on his face. "Thank God, Lovi!" He cried. Tears trickled down my cheeks.

"G-get out, all of you!" I shouted. Spain's smile quickly melted away. The other two assholes left. He stayed. "Go away, Spain," I choked.

"No." I gave a distressed groan, also because my head was throbbing from yelling.

"Please, Spain!" I pleaded. Spain put a finger under my chin and tilted it up. I was still crying, but now I was confused. I just wanted him out. How could I be so stupid to tell him?

Spain searched my eyes, and the defiant fire in his own eyes smothered into something else. He brushed a teardrop from my cheek. I blushed a deep red and shifted my gaze away. "S-Spain," I whimpered. I leaned forward to finally capture his lips.

"CRASH!"

"BANG!"

"I FOUND THE ICE CREAM! MWAHAHAHA!"

"WAIT, PRUSSIA! YOU KNOW WHAT ICE CREAM DOES TO YOU!"

"WITH THIS ICE CREAM, I'LL RULE THE WORLD IN ALL MY AWESOME-NESS!"

"PRUSSIA!"

I groaned and got to my feet. "Let's take the Hungarian approach on this matter," I growled, picking up a random pan.

"Ah, mi tomate, please don't kill anyone," Spain voiced quietly. I blushed.

"I-I won't," I mumbled. I walked into the kitchen, where France warily watched the Prussian with an empty ice cream container on his head.

"Hey, Romano!" Prussia smiled cutely, sitting like a puppy. The ice cream container hat slipped over one of his eyes. I lowered the pan. Prussia looked down at the pan. "You're not gonna hit me, are you?" He whimpered.

"N-no, I'm not," I sighed. Spain walked in, picking Prussia up like a baby. Prussia giggled like a schoolgirl. "On second thought…" I grumbled.

France heard, taking Prussia from Spain. He nodded in my direction. I 'hmph'ed and turned my head away. "France, am I cute?" Prussia asked.

"Adorable. Now let's go bring you to your little brother," France sighed.

"Holy Roman Empire?"

"N-no, Germany…"

"Same person, only Germany doesn't know that," I turned my head to the retreating Frenchman and Prussian.

"Oh, Italy is gonna be pissed," I mumbled. Suddenly, I was picked up. I looked up at my favorite Spaniard. Spain brought me to the room.

"Let's have fun," He smirked, locking the door. He waited a moment, probably for me to protest. I pulled off my shirt, wrapping my arms around his neck and locking our lips together.