I think...my writing mojo is back. ohohohohohohon. But after I finish and take a look back at my work I go '...' orz. *sob*

okay...normal text is 3rd person. Italics is his self conscious, and text in bold are Romano's thoughts.

To Dream

His head rests on Spain's lap; it's so peaceful, he feels like he can breathe.

"Spagna..." He let's his eyes flutter close and sighs. It's sad and deep and not at all how he's used to feeling. Bittersweet. His smile feels like acid on his face - but it doesn't matter; as long his Spain doesn't see. All that matters is that. He buries his face into the crook of his knee, and inhales. It's a spicy, earthy scent, he'll never forget it - though a small voice inside says the truth, and it's a slap in the face.

Yes, yes, you will forget, don't lie to yourself-

It taunts, and all Romano wants to is close his ears, even if it won't work, he still wants to; but he doesn't because he doesn't want his Spain to see it, doesn't want to worry him, although how could he get worried, especially when...

Don't lie, you're not dreaming.

...when what? He can't remember; and he brushes it off like one would do to a fallen leaf. Something is off though, and Romano's self conscious is fully aware of what is, screaming. Romano stops listening.

After all I don't hear anything.

No, nothing, nothing at all.

Romano sits up slowly, staring into Spain's relaxed face as he does so, and climbs into his lap, nuzzling his cheek against the Spaniard's neck. His skin is warm and welcoming-

Cold. It's cold - what the fuck are you doing help him he's-!

-and he smiles against tan skin. Kisses it, and sighs contently. He looks up into his ex-boss' face, giving him a rare smile. He wants Spain to see him now. This smile was for him, only for him. He kisses a little higher, on his jaw, and his brain picks up something cold and sticky on his lips as he pulls away.

There's nothing wrong.

Get him help he's-he's-!

It's such a pretty color.

He doesn't mind the sticky substance on his lips-

Especially since whatever it is it isn't real, no, not at all.

-and gives the taller man another sweet smile-

It feels like acid-

...please look at me, Spagna, please?

-and ohgodwhat'shappeningwhy-

And gently pulls himself off Spain's lap, sitting cross legged. He gently pulls the Spaniard into his lap, his head resting against his mid section. Romano pushes back his slightly wavy hair back, and kisses his forehead, kisses the red stains away, and it doesn't help- it just gets all over him- and what would Spain say if he saw Romano now?

...Spagna?

He feels a frown on his face-

-ishedreamingishedreamingPLEASEisheokay-?

-and why isn't Spain moving? He feels his frown deepen, and he gently shakes the older nation.

...Spagna?

It's begins to hurt now and his thoughts jumble together-why was he here again? He couldn't remember. He presses his hand to his cheek, and pulls back-feeling like something was wrong.

...

What was he thinking again?

...Please?

And something tells him to look down at his beloved Spaniard in the face agai-

...Look at...

He does, and realises-

He's dead.

It's good to dream.

ehhh...I dunno.

Basically:

Spain died and Romano is in a daze, and his brain is repressing the fact that Spain died, while his inner conscious(italics) knows perfectly well what's happening. His shallow conscious(the bold text) - which isn't as deep as his self conscious is starting to realise what's happening near the end. Yeah. Nothing like an emotional back slap.