Inside Italia
Romano is insecure.
Sicily feels like he's living under everyone's shadow.
Sardinia is torn between two personalities.
Vaticano is still living in the Renaissance.
San Marino can't let go of old grudges.
Seborga can't do anything to stop his brother's fighting.
Veneziano blames himself for all of it.
Beneath the veil, the Italian family really isn't as happy and perfect as it seems...
=X=
Inside Italia
Romano – Insecurity
~~::.::~~
Romano scowls as Spain pulls him into a quick hug, and places a gentle, fleeting kiss on his temple. He grabs his hand, trying to silently plead for the other to stay. Spain just grins back at him.
"Don't worry, mi Lovi! I'll see you soon, si? Friday, I promise." He laughs. He takes hold of Romano's face, and kisses him quickly; one to the forehead, one on each cheek, and one to his lips. After that, he turns, and flounces over to where France and Prussia are waiting, and the three walk away together. Spain doesn't turn back to wave.
"Fratello!" Veneziano's cheerful voice calls him, and he turns to see his brothers all waiting for him. Vaticano is glowering, Sicily is playing with the rim of his hat, Sardinia is twitching slightly as she seems to have an inner battle about whether to smile or frown, Seborga is bouncing happily and pulling at Veneziano's sleeve, and San Marino watches over all of them. Veneziano waves him over, still grinning.
Grudgingly, after a last peek over his shoulder, he follows them.
~~::.::~~
The southern Italian plays carefully with the cuffs of his shirt, staring down at his hands. The frown usually present has fallen off his face like the mask it acts as, and exposed an expression of complete and utter vulnerability. His brow creases slightly in uncertainly, and his eyes flicker nervously.
Romano hasn't spoken to his brothers at all for hours; since the meeting ended. He retreated to his room as soon as they returned to their house. He curled into himself and proceeded to try and piece himself back together.
The questions take over his mind again.
Why didn't he look back? He always looks back; he always waves, until he's dragged away. He never just turns away and leaves. Does... does that mean he doesn't want me anymore?
Romano shivers at the thought, whimpering quietly in the back of his throat.
What did I do? Maybe he finally realised just how useless I am. He probably realised I'm not as good as he is. He probably realised I'm not as good as my brothers. He probably saw how much better Veneziano is. Maybe he likes Veneziano more?
Romano flinches, hit hard by the words his mind throws at him.
That must be it. Everyone always likes Veneziano better. He's just staying with me to keep Veneziano close. He's waiting until he finds a way to explain it to Veneziano, and then he'll leave me. He'll leave and forget me.
A tear runs fast down his cheek.
It's better for him. He'll be happier with Veneziano. Veneziano smiles and laughs and plays. Veneziano has a handsome face, and a perfect body. He'll be able to go out with Veneziano, and not feel ashamed to have someone like me at his side. He'll be happy with Veneziano.
Still the tears cascade, soaking into his sleeves and trousers where they fall. He doesn't bother to try and wipe them away.
What was I thinking, that I could be happy? I'm not a good enough person to be happy. It's just a temporary arrangement, to tease me. I'm shown happiness so it can be ripped away and rubbed in my face. I don't really deserve to be happy. Look at me. Look at me.
Romano glances up and stares at himself in the mirror opposite. He sees an insignificant, weak, flawed man looking back. His hands clench tightly at his wrists.
Why did Veneziano get it all? The talent, the looks, the personality? Why should Veneziano have all I want, without even trying? Why should Veneziano be able to take my happiness from me? It's not fair.
He lashes out violently, only striking his pillow, but still determined to hit something. He punches it again, and lets a quiet, choked cry escape his lips. Then he collapses onto his bed, burying his face in the battered pillow and crying.
~~::.::~~
Dinner in the Italian household is tense. Romano glowers fiercely at everyone, arguing violently at even the slightest provocation. San Marino has had to separate him and Vaticano at least four times, and is now keeping them under close watch. Seborga has a sad look on his face as he half-heartedly eats his pasta. Even Veneziano isn't as bright and bubbly as he usually is.
Under the scowl, Romano is fretting about tomorrow. Friday means Spain would be coming to see him and usually take him back to his house for the weekend. The Italian is too busy worrying that tomorrow would be the last day he would be with Spain, and wondering what he would do after.
If Spain doesn't want me...no one will. Maybe I should just stay home. Maybe I should disappear somewhere. I'm sure Santo and Piero would be happy about that...
"Veh, fratello Spagna is coming to get you tomorrow, isn't he Roma?" Veneziano asks, smiling at his older brother. He knows Spain was one of the few people who made him happy. However, at this Romano's reaction is startling to him.
"Fuck off, what should you care, idiota?" Romano snaps angrily, hunching his shoulders defensively.
"Romano, don't talk to Veneziano like that." San Marino steps in, trying to prevent a fight before it happens, though he's scowling too now.
"You can shut the fuck up as well Santo!" Romano rounds on his older brother, hating him for standing up for Veneziano like always.
"Romano watch your mouth!" Vaticano shouts, standing next to San Marino. Romano growls, feeling ganged up on.
"You can't tell me what to do bastard! Leave me alone!" he yells.
Seborga whimpers quietly, but no-one really hears him. Veneziano has shrunk down in his seat, tears gathering in his eyes. Sicily sits still with an icy glare fixed on his brothers. Sardinia seems to be confident of her emotions for the first time, scowling down at her plate.
Romano glares for a moment at his brothers, before violently swiping his plate off the table, sending the remnants of his food flying and making the plate smash loudly.
"Fuck all of you!" he screams, using anger to cover his sadness as usual, and storms off, purposefully knocking hard into Veneziano, making him fall off his chair, and throwing something small at San Marino and Vaticano. He shuts himself in his room and doesn't resurface for the rest of the day.
~~::.::~~
Spain walks happily up the drive to the house Romano resides in with his siblings. This weekend he plans to take Romano away to a really nice luxury holiday home, right by the beaches that are usually quite a walk away from his house. He is looking forward to seeing the rare little smile on Romano's face, the one he knows only himself and Romano's family have ever seen, and even then, the Italian brothers had probably seen it less than he had.
He knocks on the door, and soon a happy, bouncy Veneziano has answered, along with a little happy, bouncy Seborga.
"Hola, Feli! Hola Seborga!" Spain smiles. Veneziano laughs happily and hugs him.
"Ciao, fratello Spain!" is the response, as usual. Seborga joins in the hug too, and Spain returns the embrace happily. Once he's been invited in, he spots Sicily and Sardinia lazing on a sofa.
"Hola, Sicily, Sardinia." He greets them, his tone still happy and friendly. Sardinia replies with a flash of a bright smile, before turning away to frown at the opposite wall. Sicily seems to go a little pink when Spain notices him, but scowls and turns away coldly all the same.
"Is that Spain?" a rather grumpy sounding voice asks from the direction of the kitchen, and San Marino appears, scowl stuck on his face. Spain's smile falters slightly and he takes just a tiny step back. San Marino has a real problem with him, and he knows it.
"Si, it's me. I'm looking for mi Romanito." Spain chuckles nervously. San Marino grunts.
"He's sulking in his room." He mutters sourly, glaring up at the ceiling. At Spain's side, Seborga deflates slightly with a whimper, and Veneziano flinches discreetly. Spain doesn't seem to notice, instead smiling brightly.
"I'll go and get him, then I can be out of your hair. Adios!" Spain gives a tiny wave before quickly turning and flouncing up the stairs towards Romano's room.
"Roma~. Mi Lovi~. Españga is here~!" he coos happily. However, as he draws closer to Romano's door, he hears a choked sob and shuddering breaths. Instantly, his carefree attitude evaporates, his voice loses its floating tone and his smile is replaced by worry.
"Romano? Mi amor?" he asks gently as he pushes the wooden barrier out of his way.
The sight that meets his eyes is something he wished he'd never see. The whole room has been torn up and destroyed; old posters have been thrown across the floor, the bedside table has been thrown to the side, the mirror usually atop it smashed against the opposite wall, a few shards giving red glints from blood-covered edges. Romano is curled up on his bed, body shaking with barely-suppressed sobs, the nails of one bloody, cut hand digging roughly into the skin of the other arm, scratching shallow gouges into his wrist. He is crying to himself in Italian, broken and cracked as it escapes his lips.
"Romano!" Spain cries worriedly, wasting no time in dashing over to be beside his boyfriend. Romano tenses and his sobbing increases almost tenfold. Spain pries his hand away from his arm, before pulling the Italian quickly to his chest. "Stop that, amor. Dios mio, Romano, what's wrong? What happened?"
"Mi dispiace! Mi d-dispiace! Mi dispiace, io non sono b-bravo abbastanza per voi. Mi dispiace ti sto tenere lontano da V-Veneziano. Ti prego,n-n-non lasciarmi. Farò qualsiasi cosa! Diventerò come molto simile Veneziano che p-posso! Smetterò di urlare e farò meglio a compiti e i-io anche sorridere e cantare e fare altre cose s-stupide se volete! Mi dispiace sto b-brutto e orribile, ma per favore, perdonami! Non lasciarmi!" Romano cries frantically into his shirt, grasping desperately at the fabric. He chokes on the tears and words as they spill, and still he shakes, like a leaf in gusty wind. Spain doesn't understand all of what was just screamed at him, but he gets enough.
I'm sorry. I'll do anything. I'll be like Veneziano.
I'm ugly and horrible. Please forgive me.
Don't leave me.
"Amor! Roma, Roma, hush. Stop apologising. You've done nothing wrong." Spain comforts, still shocked. That was what Romano thought of himself?
"I-I'm not good enough. Mi dispiace, mi dispiace..."
"Romano." Spain's voice is firm. "Stop it."
Still Romano chants apologies into his chest, whispering them under his ragged breaths. Spain pulls him away and shakes him slightly.
"Basta, ahora. Ahora, Romano." He commands, forcing the smaller man to look at him. Romano's words die on his lips, and instead he stares at Spain, whimpering and crying.
"Amor, what are you crying about? You've done nothing, you don't have to do anything. You're my Romanito, and I don't want you any other way. I don't want you like Veneziano, I want you like you. Please, stop crying, amor." Spain stares deep into the olive-gold of his love's eyes, reddened and swollen from crying, and says every word with sincerity.
"P-please don't leave me. Please, p-please, per favore, por favor..." Romano can't help the words that sputter from his mouth. His hands grip tightly at Spain's wrists, and he ignores the pain from the scratches, trying to keep him close. Spain looks sadly at him.
"I'd never leave you, Romano. Never. Look at me; I'm not going anywhere. I will not go unless you want me to. You are beautiful, wonderful, loving, sexy, cute – you're everything, Romano. You're my everything. Te amo. Te amo y siempre lo haré." Spain assures him, trying to sooth his fears.
"E ti amo! Ti amo, ti amo...per favore, Spagna..." Romano cries, desperate to keep hold of what he thinks he is losing, and pushes his face into the warmth of Spain's hands. Spain sighs and scoops Romano into his arms again, cradling him gently. The Italian continues to cry, unable to calm down from the state he's worked himself into.
Spain looks up at a noise from the door; Veneziano is staring, wide-eyed, looking around the room before settling his sight on his brother, pressed tightly to Spain's chest. He opens his mouth to speak, but is stopped by a fierce look from the older nation. Spain has never glared or shown anger to Veneziano, but now, his eyes are hard and full of danger – his lip twitches in an almost-snarl and his whole look yells 'Don't say a word. Get out.' in warning. Veneziano scurries away as fast as he can, choosing not to aggravate Spain while he's in protective mode.
~~::.::~~
It takes a while, but soon Romano has cried himself to exhaustion. He sleeps tensely against Spain's chest, his cheeks red and damp from his onslaught of tears. Spain has refused to move, instead just swaying gently until the sobs subsided. He knows Romano would hate for his brothers to have seen him so weak, so he stayed in the wreckage of his room. After Veneziano had scuttled off, no-one else had come upstairs to check on the other brother.
Carefully, the older nation checks his lover over. His hands are cut and bleeding, presumably from hitting and throwing the mirror. His head has a bump and a bruise forming, perhaps from where Romano has thrown himself into the wall angrily. He has a bleeding bite-mark on his knuckles – Spain knows, when he's angry or upset and trying not to yell and scream, Romano bites his knuckles. Obviously he bit too hard this time. And down his left wrist he has three shallow gouges, scratched by his nails; two are quite minor, just chicken-scratches that have taken away the top few layers of his lightly tanned skin. The third is deep enough for blood to seep lazily from it.
Spain sighs and lifts the sleeping Italian carefully, and carries him out into the corridor and down the stairs. Romano's head presses against the crook between Spain's neck and shoulder, still whimpering under his breath. As he walks past the archway to the front room, Spain catches a glance of San Marino talking moodily to an upset looking Veneziano. Vaticano is stood scowling as well. The other three are nowhere to be seen.
The Spanish man simply continues to his car, so he can set his Roma down and drive him home. The fancy sea-side place will have to wait; for now, Spain just needs to get them both to a house by themselves. Carefully, the older nation lays Romano in the passenger seat and straps him in. He hears stomping footsteps behind him, and turns to see a near-livid Santo storming over to him. The raging Italian hits out at his arm and pushes him backwards.
"What did you do to him? Where are you taking him?" he demands angrily. Spain frowns back.
"I'm taking him home." He responds, trying to keep calm.
"You think I'm letting you take him again? What the fuck did you do to make him cry, bastardo?" San Marino is obviously furious, because usually he controls his language much better, even around Spain. Even so, his accusations sting Spain, who starts responding to fire with fire.
"You think I did anything to him? Niño, you do not know me. I would never hurt him." Spain spits back. "I found him in his room like this. Do you know what you, his brothers, have let him do? Let him think?"
Spain lets his lip curl and his bright green eyes darken and throw hatred in the older brother's direction.
"Adios, niño." He growls, pushing roughly past the other nation and he quickly climbs into the other door of his car, starts the ignition, and reverses out of the drive. San Marino stares at him, in shock, hurt and anger in his eyes. Veneziano appears at the doorway just in time to see Spain's car. He runs after it for a moment, calling desperately.
"Mi dispiace! Fratello, Spagna, mi dispiace! Mi dispiace..."
~~::.::~~
A/N: And so ends the first chapter of this wonderfully angsty story. Hurrah!
And I'm not dead~! YAY~!
Sorry, I've been really shit with writing anything that actually gets finished recently... here's hoping this'll be different!
Okay, just a few notes;
-Romano wasn't purposefully hurting himself. Maybe subconsciously, but mainly he was just trying to hold himself together, and I know one of the things I do is cling to whatever I can, often my own arms. He's simply so desperate to hold on that he ends up injuring himself.
-Spain wasn't really angry at Veneziano. Mostly, he was trying to save Romano embarrassment by not letting him know his brother had seen him in a weak state. It was just that he was so angry with what had happened to Romano, a warning glance turned into a glare. On the other hand, he got seriously pissed off with San Marino, because he couldn't believe none of them had noticed how upset Romano was before, and for blaming Romano's upset on him.
-Spain uses 'Niño' as an insult – basically calling Santo a child, to make a point of how much older he is as a nation. He's trying to stress that Santo is clueless and knows nothing, or at least not as much as he does, especially about his own brother.
Translations:
Mi dispiace! Mi d-dispiace! Mi dispiace, io non sono b-bravoabbastanza per voi.Mi dispiaceti stotenere lontano da V-Veneziano. Ti prego,n-n-non lasciarmi. Faròqualsiasi cosa!Diventeròcomemolto simileVenezianoche p-posso! Smetterò diurlaree faròmeglio acompitie i-ioanchesorrideree cantaree fare altrecose s-stupidese volete!Mi dispiacesto b-brutto eorribile, ma per favore, perdonami! Non lasciarmi! – I'm sorry! I'm s-sorry! I'm sorry, I'm not g-good enough for you. I'm sorry I'm keeping you away from V-Veneziano. Please, d-d-don't leave me. I'll do anything! I'll become as much like Veneziano as p-possible! I'll stop yelling and do chores better and I-I can laugh and sing and do other stupid things! I'm sorry I'm u-ugly and horrible, but please, forgive me! Don't leave me!
Basta, ahore. Ahore, Romano – Stop, now. Now, Romano.
Niño – Child
Reviews will be GREATLY appreciated! I'd love to hear what you thing of the story, the concept, this chapter, everything! And it'll also motivate me to keep writing, at the moment I've gone back to just writing, then not uploading and losing motivation... I miss getting reviews and hearing what people think of my stories D: