Italy Veneziano was having a very hard and depressing day. He tried to keep his smile going the entire time but he found it impossible to. It started off by waking up to another nightmare about Germany leaving him and never coming back, then he was late for training, he was attacked by England again, he dropped his pasta, he was called a ditzy idiot by France, who then molested him, Germany left for some meeting and wouldn't be back for a week, and, to top it off, he had started remember Holy Rome for some reason.

All of that, however, disappeared when he saw his older brother, Italy Romano, sitting on the couch in their living room, his head resting in his hands. Romano looked up at Italy as he shut the front door. His eyes were red and puffy, as if he'd been crying.

"What's wrong, fratello?" Italy asked, sitting next to him.

"Nothing, I'm fine." He gave Italy a small smile. Romano smiled at him? He never does that nor does he say he's fine. He always made a big fit about some petty thing that had happened that day.

"Liar. What's wrong?"

"I'm fine, really."

Italy suddenly became very serious. "Romano, tell me what happened. Don't you dare lie to me again."

Romano sat there, shocked at his brother's change in tone. "I-I... I was thinking about you." He looks at the ground between his feet, not wanting to look at his brother's face anymore.

"What do you mean?"

"I was thinking about our relationship. We've grown apart as brothers, you know." Oh, Italy did know. It was one of the things that kept him up at night, wishing his big brother was in his bed with him again like before they were taken over by Austria and Spain. Ever since they had gained independence, they had just grown apart. Italy had cried every night for the longest time because of it. He loved Romano more than anything, even pasta. He wished he could spend every moment with him. He wished he could make up for the time that they were separated.

"What happened to us? Before Austria and Spain and even that fucking potato bastard, we were inseparable. We slept in the same bed, we shared our food, we went everywhere together. We loved each other like brothers should. I miss that... I really fucking want that back." By then, Romano's eyes were full of tears, threatening to be shed. "I want to be brothers again."

Italy wrapped his arms around Romano's shoulders and held him tight. Romano, surprisingly, turned and hugged him back, the tears now flowing down his cheeks.

"E-ever since G-grandpa Rome died, you're all I h-have. I c-can't lose you t-too. I n-need you, Veneziano. I love you. I want us to be as we were b-before. Without that, I'm nothing. Even S-spain has said I'm more d-depressed than usual. I just want to be with you again, fratello."

"Shh. It's ok, fratello. I'm right here. I'm here for you, I promise. I'll never leave you. I miss what we had too. I want it back." He held onto his brother, now on the verge of crying too. "I love you. I love you so much. I'll never leave as long as we live."

He pulled back a little to look in his brother's eyes. He managed a weak smile. "Come on, let's go to bed. It's late and I'm tired." Romano nodded silently. Italy took a hold of Romano's hand and walked with him to his bedroom. They both stripped down to their underwear and climbed into Romano's bed, slipping under the covers. They faced each other, foreheads touching. They interlocked their hands, not wanting to let the other go ever again.

"I love you, fratello." Romano whispered.

"I love you too." Italy smiled for real for the first time that day, honestly relieved and overjoyed that he was able to sleep with his fratello again after all of this time.

-END-