(A/N): *bows head* Sorry to anyone who wasn't happy with the Italies dying... if you weren't happy with that, here's something that might help. Only if you think about it, that is. Please enjoy.

Romano was having a bad day. Not just bad; it was a God awful terrible day. If he hadn't picked up his phone, maybe it wouldn't have gone so bad. Accordingly, Spain had spent just a bit too much over his budget and had sent his country into an economical slump. So, he had decided to go and check on him, and sure enough, he looked like shit.

Admittedly panicked, Romano ran back to Italy to try and get some money for the stupid bastard, and naturally, he ran into the one group of people he hated; the mafia.

Damn it! Couldn't they have left him alone? He literally had to sprint by them, only to have them call after them how much he owed them. He hated dealing with them; they always wanted more, and were out for their own gain. He always got an aching feeling in his chest whenever he was around them, one that only went away when they weren't around him.

After running back to Spain, he found out the tomato sucking bastard had already gotten better. And he coincidentally forgot to tell Romano he was fine. It was frustrating, and he was definitely not in the mood for anymore troubles today.

And of course, this was the day his brother wanted Romano to spend time with him. Romano half heartedly stalked to the café they were to meet at with a frown and an overall killing intent glare to anyone who got in his way.

With a loud huff, Romano dropped into the chair of the small Italian café, tossing his legs onto the chair closest to him. He threw his head backwards, and was met with confused hazel eyes. His brother looked at him with slight worry, before breaking out into a full grin. "Ciao Romano, how are you?" he asked innocently, arms wrapping around his brother's neck.

Romano instantly pushed him back, rolling his eyes. "How the hell do I look, moron?" he asked rhetorically. His brother went to say something, but Romano swiftly interrupted him, continuing his complaints. "Damn tomato bastard doesn't know when to stop spending! Idiot caught a pretty bad cold. So I decided to… y'know, help him out. Bastard didn't even need the help! He didn't tell me jack, and I ended up running through half of freaking Italy trying to help him! And I ran into the mafia…" he growled at the word. "Damn I hate the mafia..." he hissed under his breath. Those low lives didn't know when to stop. The last thing he needed was for them to pop their heads into his business. He managed to run straight by them, but hell knows when they'd pop their shitty little heads back into where they weren't supposed to be…

"Ve… you're okay, right?" his brother's concerned voice brought him out of his thoughts. He looked at Veneziano skeptically, as if it were a trick question.

"Yeah, why the hell wouldn't I be? I'm a country, dammit! Well, half country… you know what I mean!" he waved his hand carelessly, as if to push away the problem.

His brother still pressed on, as if it were a serious matter. "But you're okay, right?" he asked again."They didn't hurt you?"he grabbed his brother's hand, a flash of graveness in his eyes. Romano returned the gaze, surprised by how serious his brother became. "They wish they could hurt me! I'm just as fine as I usually am. The hell has gotten into you, Veneziano?" Romano waved a hand in front of his brother's face, trying to take him out of the trance.

In an instant, his brother blinked once, twice before getting the goofy look back into his eyes. "Hmmm~?" Veneziano tilted his head, bewildered. "I couldn't hear you for a moment there, Romano~. What were you saying?"

Romano sighed before shrugging. "Nothing too important, bastard. I was just talking about how I ran into the-"

"Yay, they brought us pastaaa~!"

Romano rolled his eyes, glancing down to the bowls which were placed in front of them. He took a glance to his little brother, who now was basically gorging down the pasta with joy. Romano chuckled softly, a small, warm feeling in his chest.

"Hey Romano?"

"Yes?" he answered, snapped out of his thoughts. "I was talking with Germany today." Veneziano began. Romano groaned, annoyed at the thought of his brother's 'macho' manipulating friend. "Ugh. Why do you have to bring the potato bastard into this?" he grumbled, his somewhat good mood fading. "Just listen, please?" his brother begged, a pleading look in his eyes.

"….Fine…" Romano muttered, crossing his arms.

Veneziano smiled gratefully and continued. "He said that if you see a shooting star, it's good luck!"

"Good luck my ass. Bastard got it wrong. It isn't good luck!"

Feliciano frowned. "It's not?"

"Nope. Not one bit."

"Ve…"

"Uh… but it's something better moron! Wait for me to finish!" Romano quickly added, feeling bad for have given Veneziano such a damned sad face.

Veneziano's eyes lit up instantly. He stayed quiet, but he seemed excited to hear his brother. Romano rubbed the back of his head, thinking. "Well, they say if you're lucky enough to see a shooting star, you get a wish. But you have to do it quickly, and it only works once." Romano wondered where he thought up this random shit about shooting stars.

"Really?" His brother sat up straighter, interested. Romano nodded. "Yeah, sure." He mumbled, still trying to remember if where he had heard about shooting stars before.

Veneziano nodded, before letting out a small sigh "That's too bad… I don't have anything to wish for…"

Romano cocked an eyebrow, surprised. "You don't?" he asked. "Not a single wish?"

His younger brother shook his head, a small smile on his face. "Why should I? I have everything I'd need~. I have a great older brother, and pasta! What else could I want?"

Romano smiled slightly, feeling the happiest he had all day; maybe happier than he had been in a long time. He couldn't help but smack his brother lightly in the head. "Sheesh…you're such a moron, Veneziano." His brother pouted at the insult, but quickly went back to his pasta. "I love you too fratello~." he huimmed before stuffing his mouth with more pasta. Romano scoffed, muttering a small, "Bastard…" under his breath, but he couldn't push away the smile that wanted to form on his face.

Maybe today wasn't so bad...

(A/N): That's the end.

Hmmm... I could've made an awesome joke about using your 'dying will' last chapter (Hitman!Reborn fans will get it )... guess it's too late for that... Oh well... ^^;

I'm glad I managed to finish this story... I'm still depressed over the whole, 'I lost all my stories' thing... Alas, the show (or rather, story writing)must go on~. I'm working on a new fic that won't be out for a bit. At least until I get far enough in the story to feel confident about posting it. It's Canada-and-America centric (I think I have a think for brotherly bonds or something... sheesh.) and will involve spies. Oh yes.

Thanks for staying with the story, and Reviews/Comments/Advice/Questions are always appretiated. And remember... I'll be watching. (6 w 6)