SOY: This is kinda sad, but don't let it stop you from reading :)

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Rating: T

Warnings: angst, death–ish, anguish.

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia.

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Voice

One–shot

"I wish he would disappear!"

.

.

.

.

At first, the pain was just a small twitch in the back of his head, not even enough to disrupt his sleep; it was tame but continuous, humming in the background, under his conscious levels.

Then, it grew stronger.

It mounted like a storm, like an earthquake, building up, feisty and powerful –it sucked in all his dreams, turning them into pained nightmares.

He was running on a sunny, beautiful meadow. The trees were moving along with the light, and there was a soft wind blowing against his face. The sky was of a deep, rich blue shade, and everything felt perfect, wonderful.

And he was alone. Blissfully alone, dancing among the flowers, smiling because there was no one else around to see it and stare.

Then came the pain.

It hit him in waves, making it hard to breathe, his lungs heavy and filled with cotton.

The sky suddenly turned dark, a deep violet hue, then bled into black and red and brown and grey; drops of water fell on his skin, and they were so cold that he shuddered and trembled, soft moans leaving his lips in puffs of condensed air.

He tried to cover his head and arms and neck, but there was nowhere to hide, so he kept running, the trees growing further and further away…

He gasped out when the grass turned into mud under his feet, sucking him down, making him lose his balance and sink lower, deeper inside…

Lips opening to a soundless scream–

And everything around him went black.

It covered his mouth and nose, choking him.

Gone.

Pain again, choking him, the mud restricting his movements–

Alone.

Was it… was it…

Pupils flashing from right to left under his lids, frantic, blind…

"Br–"

He woke up with a start, jumping up in a sitting position and panting hard. For a second –the fraction of a second– he gasped in shock, skin rippling with cold waves, eyes wide and unseeing.

In that fraction, he made contact with reality again –the reminder of his dream shook him to the core, and he almost let out a shaky laugh, as he'd escaped his nightmare, he was safe now, everything was–

And then the pain hit him again.

Stronger, faster, building inside him like a fire, burning its way inside his body, the pain grew. It mounted hard, exploding, roaring, tearing his body inside out–

Yelling hard to the four walls around him, pleading for mercy, feeling something pull and push and rip and mend–

No mercy at all

It left him shuddering after what felt like years, body convulsing at the remaining twinges.

Alone in his bedroom, body flopping on the mattress.

He fell into a dreamless sleep, too tired to think.

…–…–…–…

When he woke up, it was morning.

His body still buzzed in shivers of pain and cold, and he fumbled upwards, gasping and stumbling out of bed, the world toppling around him.

He felt different.

Something was inside him, and something was not, and it felt painful.

"U–urgh…"

He felt sick.

What was happening… what…

"I wish he were dead"

As he wobbled through the door, he caught himself in the wall mirror, and stopped, staring at his reflection.

He looked normal. On the outside, nothing was wrong, only dark circles under his eyes, and his curl hung low instead of standing proudly on top of his head.

Romano reached the bathroom in a daze, gulping down water from the sink. It felt heavenly in his dry throat, but as swallowed, it made his already freezing body even colder. He felt sick. He felt wrong. Something was missing, but his mind couldn't concentrate.

Sore, confused, dizzy… a thought wormed itself up until it was the only thing he could think of, a burning need, strong and invasive, coming from his childhood together with almost forgotten memories –protected and shielded by the hands of his caretaker.

Spain.

He needed to see Spain.

Unbidden, overwhelming –Spain would help. He would hold him close and pet him, and everything would be alright.

Fumbling with his clothes, Romano left the house so early that the sun was barely up in the sky, birds strangely quiet outside his window.

He walked down the streets, barely noticing how they were strangely empty –no people yelling their prices, no one moving around with fresh meat and fish, no kids laughing…

Everything felt off.

"I never wanted to be an half of a whole, the half that is not recognised, the unimportant half!"

As he passed through an ally, footsteps echoing in the silence, the sound of a radio hit his ears and he stumbled backwards in shock.

The sound was so familiar and yet, foreign to his ears.

"Earlier during the night, a strange earthquake of unconfirmed causes and provenience shook the regions of Friuli–Venezia Giulia, Veneto and Trentino Alto Adige".

He froze.

"The intensity was reported to be of the fourth grade of the Mercalli Scale. No actual lasting damage has been done to the territories, but the seismologists noted the waves are expanding, and there might be more earthquakes in the regions of Aosta, Lombardia and Piemonte with a similar intensity in the next few hours. Once again, authorities are working at the best of their capabilities to aid the cities in the worst conditions".

The voice coming from the radio was metallic, and it sounded tired.

As tired as Romano was.

Earthquake?

Was… was his brother ok?

'It's stupid of you to wonder that… not after what you thought. Not after what you wished for' a voice inside his mind rebuked, hissing.

'It's not like I've never hoped for him to be gone before yesterday,' he thought back, mind wavering suddenly.

It wasn't like he really meant it. On the spurt of the moment, he had yelled so many obscenities, maybe even thinking he believed that. But it was always a momentary rage. Veneziano surely knew he hadn't meant it.

Maybe he had been too harsh this time, but…

The rage never lasted long.

He always woke up the next morning and went to hug his brother, because in the end, he didn't really ha–

The sun was still shining, why did he still feel so cold?

"Authorities fear for the city of Venice. The earthquake vibrated under the water, creating a tidal wave that raised the level of the water of over two meters. Most of the city is currently underwater, and the scientists are unsure when the parameters will return normal… if ever. Experts are currently trying to find a connection between the unexpected earthquakes and the situation in Venice, though answer are still lacking".

Romano blinked, trying to concentrate on the words, but it was hard. He still didn't feel good. His right eye was pulsating painfully, the eyebrow heavy, his pupil unfocused, and his right shoulder and the right side of his head were also thrumming with pain at every movement.

He felt like vomiting.

Why were things so out of… so out of perspective?

He looked around, suddenly hit by a wave of dizziness.

…–…–…–…

"Lovino…?"

The voice penetrated through his fogged brain like light through clouds, dispelling the confusion.

Arms circled his shoulders, pushing his cheek against a strong chest, holding him so tightly he felt constricted, sick and uneasy; his sight suddenly was filled with the brown colour of Spain's shirt, dull and almost unbearable to his tired eyes.

He tried to push him away by unconscious reaction, then realising who it was that was holding him, he ceased to move and allowed himself to be held.

Spain. Until seconds before, he'd wanted him so much and there he was…

"Anto–"

"Oh… Lovino! Lovino! Madre de Dios, Lovino! God, thank you…"

Romano closed his right eye and took a deep breath, taking in Spain's sweet scent, of tomatoes and sun and soil. It was almost soothing…

"I'm sorry… I'm sorry… I'm so, so sorry, Lovino…"

Then Spain's words reached his brain again, and he stirred, not understanding why would Spain act like that. Of course Spain wouldn't understand… did he know about the earthquakes? He shouldn't be this damn clingy, not even if Romano needed that too.

Was he worried? Did he think Romano wouldn't be able to hold strong?

Stupid Spain…

The pain was still humming inside him, dull but as present as before, and it was only with a great strain that he managed to push Spain away, wobbling to the side and placing one hand on the wall to stead himself.

"Ant…" he cleared his throat when his voice faltered. "What…"

Looking up, Romano froze.

Spain was crying. The tears were flowing down his cheeks without restraint, dampening his clothes and falling on the ground, and he looked lost and hurt and heartbroken, and Romano's brain stopped working.

Why was he–

"Oh, Lovi… I'm… I'm…" choking, sobbing, desperate, Spain rushed towards him again, and Romano wasn't sure anymore if he was offering comfort or asking for it. "We've been searching for you… after this night… I had to see you, I had to see if you were ok, because… because…"

Grunting, Romano shifted in his hold, too tired to yell. "You're not… making sense, stupid. I was sleeping… it's just an earthquake… it'll pass… there have been others before".

Spain's body froze against his own, his breath itching, and Romano could feel the steady sound of his heart move to a frenzied pace. For a moment, neither spoke.

"L–Lovi…? You surely have to… how could you not know… you…"

Looking up again, eyes focusing on Spain's pained face with so much fatigue he was almost tempted to give up, Romano grunted in irritation. What was he dawdling about now?

"The fuck are you saying?" he murmured, swaying as he pushed the other away again. "Let me go… I… I need to go see if Feli… is ok…"

Spain's arms fell to his sides, leaving Romano free.

He pushed away, staring at him quizzically, head still painfully pulsating, but soon enough he had no interest in Spain anymore, because the pain was rippling through him again, sharp like needles moving through his chest, and…

he was falling forwards, hands clutching at his temples, sobbing as tears fell from his eyes like skin ripped away with a knife–

"Lovino!"

–arms encircling his frame again, a balm to the pain, a mouth close to his ears, asking him to breathe, to relax

"It's another earthquake… please breathe… calm down, calm down… it's going to be ok… stay with me…"

Gentle words penetrated the cloud of pain of his brain and he clutched at them, clutched at the warm arms with all his weight…

Why was the pain so bad? If he was feeling it like that, what about Veneziano…?

"Be gone! Be gone! I hate you! I wish you were bgone/b! There should be only one, and it should be me! They love you more, but why? You're useless, you're stupid, you let them beat you with a smile!"

Why had he said these horrible words? He hadn't meant to –he loved his brother, it was his other half!

Now his little Veneziano was suffering, and he had to go to him… make up for his words, make him smile, lessen his pain…

"L–let me… go… b–bastard Antonio…" refusing the relief of the arms holding him up, Romano pushed Spain away, growling and falling on the ground. "I need to… see… Feli…"

It was painful.

It was hard.

Gravity was pulling him down, eyelids heavy over his tired pupils, body so tired that he just wanted to let go–

But no. He had to go.

Why was Spain still crying?

"Oh, Lovino… can't you… can't you feel it?" Spain's voice was quiet, broken by soft tremors, and the Italian Nation faltered, stopping and looking up at him.

His heart was beating fast in his chest.

"That pain… it is… it's only yours, Lovi. There is no… there is no Feli. Not anymore. There is no Italy. There is just… just you. He's gone".

The sound of a heart breaking.

Soft, almost like the pause of silence between one heartbeat and another.

The pain still hummed through his body, but was almost forgotten. Dull. Ears buzzing. Mouth dry.

Fingers digging into the asphalt, bleeding into it.

There is no Italy.

…–…–…–…

Romano could hear them –outside of the room, talking. He could hear the hushed whispers that Hungary was trying to hide, the louder comments of America, the insults England threw at him for yelling.

So many nations were there to see him, and he didn't want to see any of them.

They had been swarming to the house –his brother's house. His own house– after Spain had brought him there, wanting to know if…

Italy was gone.

The pain was still rumbling inside him, a dull wave through his body, but his brain was clearer now. He could feel it.

The lack of something inside him –his brother's heart beating together with his own, his presence tugging in the back of his mind– and the feeling of something filling him completely, in a way he had never experienced –his whole land. All the territories that had never belonged to him– were overwhelming.

Italy was gone.

That silly smile, the way his arms would wave around when he explained something.

His brother… his little brother. Veneziano.

Italy was only him.

There was no more South and North. He was the only one.

"You think you're so good, yet you don't realise my people want to secede, they want to see you gone, bI/b want to see you gone!"

It wasn't true –it wasn't true!

"What will happen now that Lovino is the only Italy?" Bulgaria's voice coming from the slightly ajar door. "What happened to Feliciano? Is it something that will happen to others?"

"None of us is in a situation like this," someone else said. Romano didn't bother recognising the voice. "They were different. Maybe it was supposed to happen. Maybe Feliciano found a way to disappear. I wonder why Feliciano and not–"

"Will you shut up?" Spain's voice, louder and filled with hatred. "Do you even know what you're saying? Feliciano is–" he faltered, and continued with a lower tone, "–no more… and you're just standing there, without even understanding how… how…"

Romano curled more into his blankets, mind blank.

It was his fault.

His activity groups had been demanding separation, Romano's blood boiling in his veins, wanting to show he was good as well, no, that he was better than his brother, that he was the good one, that he was strong–

"Ve~ but Lovi, we're supposed to be brothers, we share a country together… don't you love me?"

Yes, I love you Veneziano, of course I do, you're my brother…

"No! I hate you! It would be better if you were to disappear! I never cared for you!"

"No…" barely a whisper, followed by tears that he could not stop…

"All of you, leave!" Hungary's voice penetrating through Romano's haze. "If you are not here to help… if you are not here to mourn…" voice shaken with tears and pain "then leave. We don't need you here. We don't want you here".

"Hey, Elizaveta, you don't need to be hostile, we're sad that Feliciano's gone, but we have to settle things about–"

"I suggest you refrain from continuing that," Austria's voice was cold. Steely. "It is not a moment for that. Leave immediately, or suffer the consequences".

"I won't allow anyone to step into this room!" Spain's voice again. "Not when you're so bent on disrespecting Feli and Lovi like that!"

Romano looked up from his trembling hands, peering through the blanket wrapped around his head, and wept.

"Feli…"

…–…–…–…

"It was my fault".

Spain and Hungary looked up, staring at him as if they were facing a ghost, and not him.

Romano's eyes were soulless, open and dark and empty, but his voice was filled with all the emotions his eyes could not offer.

Hungary hesitated before moving towards him, one hand delicately pressed against his shoulder –he barely felt it through the terrible ache. Three days, and it was still there.

"It was my fault," he repeated in the same tone.

This time, Spain also moved closer.

"Stop saying stupid things…" Hungary's eyes filled with tears again. "Go back to bed, I'll bring you some soup later on–"

"I wanted him gone," he continued.

Hungary's hand shifted away from his shoulder.

"I told him I hated him. I told him I didn't need him. I told him that–" he choked on his sobs, pulling the blanket around his thin frame. "–that I wished he'd be gone".

Spain's arms once again around his body. Warm. He didn't deserve it.

He didn't deserve Spain and Hungary caring for him. He didn't deserve it when he'd killed his brother. Wished him gone.

"I had never been that cruel before. I didn't mean it. Oh, Dio, I didn't mean it!"

How weak he sounded. How terribly weak.

It was his fault. It was eating him from inside.

"Lovino…" Hungary's voice. Filled with tears. "Oh, no, it's not your fault… your words meant nothing…"

But he knew they did. They all knew it, and Romano knew that they would blame him too. Keep him away. Curse at him for taking Veneziano away from them. Scream and hit him, and he'd deserve it, because…

"It was the last thing I said to him. He was gone then. My brother is gone…"

Then he couldn't say anything anymore, because he was sobbing and clutching at Spain like a lifeline, and there was nothing but more pain, and no reassurance coming from the two Nations could ever help.

…–…–…–…

"Lovino! No! Wait! Come back!"

He ran.

He'd been standing in front of his brother's house, with Spain and Hungary at his sides, Spain's hand on his back, gently guiding him towards the entrance after a long walk around.

More than two weeks since he'd been left alone. Spain had been worried, but when Romano had agreed to go out, he had smiled so brightly that even Romano had felt touched.

They had talked about Italy. They had talked about before, and Spain had been at his side all the time.

Someone cared for him, someone still remembered Veneziano.

And now he'd seen him.

Germany.

Panic had mounted inside him, so strong that it had erased all his pain and all his ache, adrenaline rushing through his veins at the look in those blue eyes.

He hated him.

For taking Italy away. For taking Feliciano away.

Germany knew it was his fault, and hated him.

"No! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" the words had left his lips as soon as Germany had looked his way. "I didn't mean it! I love him!"

Romano hadn't noticed the bangs under the other nation's eyes, the way his shoulders hung low, the way his hair was not perfectly combed, the way he was slouching.

Romano didn't notice the pain in Germany's face, in the way he moved.

All he saw was the person he'd disliked so much, the person his brother had loved, the person that had loved his brother.

He couldn't face him, not when the rippling guilt was still tearing his mind apart.

He ran.

Doors and corridors and stairs, blindly moving up to the attic, pushing away boxes of old clothes, old paintings, old furniture, pushing his way up through a small corner, coughing out the webs and the spiders and the dust, pushing himself through until he was hidden away, curled upon himself where once had been his and Italy's safe place.

Small, away from the world, behind a giant luggage and a painting of Holy Mother Mary that Italy had painted, Romano clutched at his knees and sobbed.

It was small and constricting around his big body, but he didn't care. They had hid there more than once, crying and cuddling with each other, sharing promises only brothers could think, promising each other they would never be apart.

'I want him back'.

Wasn't it enough? He'd learnt his lesson.

When was Veneziano going to come back?

It was enough.

He missed him. everybody missed him. Germany. Hungary. Spain. Austria. Japan. Prussia.

More land, more people, the pain –nothing of it was worth it.

Where was his brother?

He wanted him back!

"Is this a joke? Why won't you come back?"

He'd be back for sure.

It was Veneziano. He'd be back.

He was just making it out in a big, gigantic joke. He'd reappear again, for sure. He'd show Romano how it felt, and they'd laugh it away.

It was this belief that kept Romano from despair, that managed to help him when he couldn't sleep at night.

A soft noise alerted Romano's panicking brain, and he stopped dead, biting on his lips to prevent sobs from slithering out.

Someone was in the attic.

Another noise, this time closer. Things being moved.

"… Feliciano?"

Nobody knew of this place, and yet someone was coming his way, methodically moving through as he'd done before, making noise.

Coming closer. Closer.

Romano's heart skipped a beat, then it quickened the pace so much his brain wavered.

Noise.

"Feliciano… you're back?" squeezing out from behind the luggage, Romano jumped up and frantically scanned the attic, a smile stretching his lips upwards.

It was empty.

"Don't hide, Feli! Please! I know you're here! I want you back! Come here! It has been long enough!"

He pushed the boxes away, kicking the paintings until they fell, stepping over old paint supplies and books, uncaring.

His brother was there. For sure.

"Feli! Please! Answer me! Come back! I learned my lesson!"

Hands grabbing a painting –ripping the canvas with his fingers, throwing the frame against the wall.

He grabbed a book and threw it against an armoire, the echo like a loud explosion. The book fell on the floor, open in the middle.

"Damn it! Feliciano!"

There was no answer other than the sound of his gurgled sobs.

…–…–…–…

"Lovino, please–"

He ignored Spain completely, eyes still searching the streets.

"Lovi…"

"I heard him," he finally answered.

"Feliciano is dead! Lovi, come back inside, you need to eat and rest… Eliza prepared you some pasta, if you–"

"He has to know I'm waiting for him. He's out there, looking at me. He wants to know if I'm dedicate enough," he continued.

He rubbed at his tired eyes, refusing to move.

Veneziano was there, he knew it. He was looking at him, smiling and daring him to leave first.

He'd heard his voice calling him.

"Lovi? Are you still angry?"

No, of course not, Romano just wanted him back.

"You're still waiting for me, are you?"

"There was no voice calling you. Lovino, come back inside with me!"

"How would you hear it, stupid Antonio?" he didn't move, but a smile lingered on his lips. "You're not his brother".

"You're my older brother, you wouldn't really hate me, ve~"

Yes, Veneziano would come back. Everything would be ok then. He just had to wait.

"He won't come back! Lovino! Snap out of it and come back inside!"

"Go away, Antonio" he grunted in reply.

He felt Spain move closer, but he ignored him.

The pain was gone. He felt whole and normal again. Venice's flood had returned to normality, the earthquake's problems were slowly being fixed.

He could feel it deeply inside his body, with his eye and shoulders not hurting anymore. His back was ok. He didn't even have a fever.

Things were ok now.

Veneziano would come back now that his punishment towards Romano was completed.

"Ve~ brother Lovi will wait for me, right?"

Yes. Yes, he would.

They had a strong bond. Veneziano was his brother. He was waiting.

"Lovino, listen to me…"

Spain's arm around his neck. He pushed it away, disgusted.

"Shut the fuck up and go away!" he screamed, finally turning around to punch Spain in the shoulder.

The other Nation accepted the hit and didn't move.

Romano retreated from him, suddenly scared by the look in his eyes –dark and filled with danger and pain and sadness and pity.

"I…" he shook his head. "Go away, Antonio".

This, too, he was doing for Veneziano. Why wasn't he coming back already?

Time ticked loudly with the sound of his heartbeats. Each second passing by was a second he missed Veneziano even more.

"I'm waiting," he murmured, ignoring once again Spain's attempts at talking. "Talk to me. I'm here".

He looked outside, the streetlamp illuminating a few boats in the canal in front of him. It looked so peaceful. Beautiful. Like Veneziano was.

"I'm talking, Lovi! If only you could listen–"

"I'm not referring to you, bastard," he murmured. "I'm talking to Feli".

A whiff of cool air hit his face. His heart sped up again.

"Can we play hide–and–seek, ve~? I'm hiding already, come and find me~"

A shadow flickered in the corner of his eyes, but when he looked, it was gone.

His heart was thumping in his throat.

"Lovino?"

He looked at Spain, smiling. "I'm taking him back myself," he murmured. "Just wait, Feli will come back to me".

He turned around again and stepped into the night, allowing it to wrap its arms around his body, moving away from the light of the open door, ignoring Spain's calls, ignoring the coolness sweeping through his body.

The water in the canals sloshed soundlessly as he ran by, following a flickering shadow hiding in the night.

He smiled, lips stretching painfully.

"Of course I'm coming, Feli…"

…–…–…–…

Romano found himself running, gasps coming from his parted lips, wind against his face, up and down the bridges of his brother's city, ignoring the few humans that were walking around, too concentrate on following Veneziano.

The muscles of his face twitched.

A laughter –loudly, echoing through the empty, narrow alley, beckoning him on–

Turning a corner, another empty street stretching on…

"Feli!"

"Come on?"

He started running again, hands clenched into fists, straining to reach that voice, that sound of footsteps echoing in the night, still evading him.

Up and down empty streets, watching the way the moon reflected on the water, watching the boats silently rock right and left, watching the ruined houses, thinking back of how much Veneziano loved this city, how much of this place was Veneziano…

His lips stretched further up, eyes growing wide.

"Feli!"

Another soft, silly laughter.

He ran faster.

Piazza San Marco was open in front of him, silent and dark. His pace slowed down to a complete stop in the space of a few heartbeats, twirling around to look everywhere, eyes straining to see in the dark, glancing up at the moon he could see behind the campanile.

He was alone.

"Feliciano?"

The silence was deafening.

"I know you are here, Feli…" a hesitant, trembling laugh.

The silence between his heartbeats was long enough to be able to fill an endless tune.

"Come back… please… I miss you so much… I'm sorry… you're going to come back, are you?"

No answer but silence.

The place was void of life except him. he forced his feet to move, and as he walked, he felt like he himself was nothing more than the sound he made on the floor.

"This is yours," he pressed his hand over his right eye. It was prickling slightly. "All of this is yours" he pointed around him, arms wide.

They were aching.

"You belong with me, Feli… come back… please…"

Once again, only the silence and the soft blowing wind against his body.

A soft breath.

His eyes looked up, towards the sky.

The pain was sudden, and without warning.

It seeped through him from his eye and his head, and it expanded like a wave.

He gasped and panted, feeling ripples of pain shot through his body, a dull twinge in the back of his head, growing stronger and stronger, building inside him, throbbing and expanding–

He fell on the ground, nails digging into the asphalt, blurred sight and pain and tears and…

Was the ground shaking? Was it him?

"F… F–Feli?"

Was he coming back? Finally?

Through the tears, he smiled. Yes, he was coming back. He was.

Footsteps behind him, louder noise than his heart, louder than his soft cries of pain.

With a soft gasp, Romano turned around. "Feli…!"

Silence.

Tears like grains of sand rolling downwards in an hourglass.

"Lovino? Why are you crying?"

Empty.

…–…–…–…–…–…–…

SOY: please take your side whether Italy comes back or not.

Madre de Dios (Spanish) - Mother of God

Dio (Italian) - God