Okay guys, this is my first Hetalia fanfic!

I hope it's good but criticism is always welcome. But nothing too mean please, I'm a pansy.

Enjoy!

Spain sat on his bed, legs dangling off the sides. The bed was so cold. He was so cold. He didn't like this bed anymore. It was empty. Haunted. Because there was no one to share it with.

No Lovi to share it with.

"You could share it with me" the figure behind the Spaniard whispered, arms sliding around Spain to engulf him. Smother him. That's what Spain felt. Smothered.

Smothered by this man who insisted on replacing his little Italian. His beautiful Italian. The Italian he raised since a child and had grown to love Spain as much as Spain loved he.

His little Italian would never see him again.

So now Spain sits with the strange man, whom he knows isn't as strange as he'd like him to be, feet dangling off his bed, staring at his second most beloved, yet despised, treasure.

His old battle axe. It had been stained red many times and had been stained red yet again tonight.

The blood dripped to the ground, Spain too catatonic to care. He'd care at some other stage. Then he'd most likely scrub all the blood until it was gone. Because that blood shouldn't have been there. That blood was a sin. The sin of killing an innocent. Spain had done this many times in his past, but not for a couple of centuries at least.

"It's not so bad" the man behind Spain purred "It needed to be done. That annoying little brat was in the way" The man smirked. Spain would get angry at this, he knew. Because he knew Spain almost as good as himself.

Spain pushed himself away from the bed and glared at the man. This glare would seem out of place, but for the fact that the man was as old as Spain himself, and remembered vividly how bitter and angry he could be. The great Spanish empire of old was no nice guy.

Spain picked up his old axe and ran at the man. He swung his axe, directly tgrough the strange but not so strange man.

And a gaping hole was left in the bed. The man moved to fast, with his youthfulness and life on the sea. It made him a dangerous foe.

He shoved Spain to the bed and loomed over him, chuckling.

"All you need is me 'Tonio" He used Lovino's old nickname for him so carelessly "Just me and these delicious tomatoes"

The strange man sank to the side of Spain, holding him, before biting into a tomato.

Spain hated that tomato. He hated it because of the plant it had come off. The plant that was planted on his beloved Lovi's chopped up remains.

He hated that tomato, yes, but he hated the man who had its blood red juice dripping from his mouth more. This man had killed his Lovino.

But Spain knew he couldn't really hate this man. Because this man was in his head. A figure in the image of his conquering days. He had killed Lovi. And Lovi had been so afraid.

So really Spain knew he should hate himself.

He snuggled down with his imaginary self despite his hatred for the man.

Because it was better to be in bad company than on his own.

Ugh that could have been so much better.

But as far as first time in the fandom goes? Is it decent? Should I never come near Hetalia again?

You be the judge.