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Chapter Text

Romano wasn’t exactly fond of people from countries he considered to have awful food and even worse people (in his opinion). That probably explained his dislike for Germany, his younger brother’s best friend, and later, much to Romano’s dismay, his lover. He often referred to him as the "potato-eating bastard," despite Veneziano’s constant pleas to be nicer to the German, who was practically family at this point.

Romano hated using that word to describe his connection to his brother’s boyfriend. Still, he cared about Veneziano, even if saying it to his face felt far too cheesy. So, though he'd never admit it, Romano resolved to at least try to be civil with Germany… for his brother's sake. Emphasis on try.

Another reason Romano wasn’t too thrilled about his brother’s relationship with that German was the German’s brother. But not just any brother, oh no, this one was the embodiment of everything Romano despised in a person. Aside from being the representative of East Germany, he had some bizarre obsession—or was it a fetish?—for both Romano and Veneziano. Whatever it was, it was downright irritating and only made the whole situation even harder for Romano to tolerate.

Every time he and Veneziano visited Germany’s house (which, unfortunately, also belonged to Prussia), Prussia would ramble on about how great their "climate" was, how they were eye candy, and all that ridiculous charm. One time, he even made an absolutely horrible joke: “Too bad North’s taken… but hey, I’ve still got you, South.” followed by the cockiest smirk and a wink. Seriously? Hello? Did that guy have any shame? Any sense of decency? Of course not… it was Prussia, after all. But still! On top of all that, he was a narcissist, obnoxious, loud, and just... ugh! Honestly, Romano probably hated him even more than Germany. And that was saying something. It was one of many reasons he couldn’t fully support his brother’s relationship…

But enough with the prologue! Let’s get into the story already.

It had been a perfectly fine day… until Veneziano mentioned he was heading over to his lover’s place for a while and suggested Romano come along. At first, Romano’s answer was a firm nope! Why on earth would he willingly set foot in the home of someone he genuinely despised? It made no sense. But then, another thought struck him. He couldn’t let Veneziano go there alone! What if something happened? Did that German even know how to cook (of course not)? What if his brother ended up in some horrible situation—like being forced to eat undercooked potatoes the entire time?! Ahhh! The mere thought was unbearable. He couldn’t allow it. Absolutely not. So, when Veneziano asked him again, Romano reluctantly agreed.

The trip itself wasn’t too bad. Their countries were relatively close, so the flight didn’t take long. Both of them slept through the entire journey and, thankfully, avoided having to eat airplane food. So, all in all, not the worst experience.

One thing Romano had to admit about his brother’s lover was that he was thoughtful—a decent quality, especially since, in Romano’s opinion, he didn’t have many others. Germany had come to pick them up from the airport, which earned him a point for effort. But, of course, his obnoxious, loudmouthed brother had tagged along—or worse, maybe Germany had invited him. That instantly deducted at least ten points from Romano’s mental scorecard.

The sight of the white-haired German made him frown, a scowl forming almost on instinct. He could not stand that guy!

As soon as the two spotted them, they approached, and Italy wasted no time leaping onto Germany for a big hug and a kiss. Germany, in his typically reserved manner, reciprocated as best he could before stepping aside to let Italy greet his brother, Prussia. Of course, Prussia didn’t object to being hugged by the shorter brunette—he probably enjoyed it more than he should have.

Ugh… Romano thought, feeling his irritation rise to the surface. He didn’t like Prussia. Not even a little. If he stayed near his brother any longer, he’d probably end up taking matters into his own hands, literally, by slamming a fist into that smug face and, while he was at it, wiping off that obnoxious smirk once and for all.

Yet, perhaps Romano’s wish for Prussia to leave his brother alone had been taken in the worst possible way. The moment Prussia finished talking to Italy, his red eyes locked onto Romano, and before he could react, the obnoxious German was charging toward him. In an instant, Romano found himself trapped in a suffocating hug, lifted clean off the ground. His feet dangled uselessly, and he could barely breathe under the crushing squeeze.

Romano gritted his teeth in sheer annoyance. Did this guy have any concept of keeping his hands to himself?!

“Ro-ma-no!” Prussia exclaimed, still refusing to release the struggling Italian. “Did you miss the awesome meeee? Huh? Huh? Did you?” He laughed, clearly enjoying the discomfort he was causing as Romano squirmed to break free. When it became clear he wasn’t going anywhere, Romano finally spoke up.

“Let... go! You smell like disgusting potatoes, and NO, I did not miss you, never!” he growled in frustration. Prussia just laughed that infuriatingly cocky laugh of his, making Romano's anger spike even higher. “Are you deaf?! Let go already, bastard!!!” he snapped, pushing against Prussia’s grip with all his strength.

Germany, noticing Romano’s discomfort, let out a sigh. "C’mon, brother, leave him alone. You know Romano doesn’t like being hugged.” he said, giving Prussia a pointed look. "Plus, we need to get going."

Romano nodded as much as he could, grudgingly admitting that, for once, he actually agreed with the German—which was a big deal. He mentally gave Germany 10 points for at least trying to help him out of this terrible situation. That was a decent quality, especially if he was aiming to prove he was worthy of his brother. It was the kind of thing Romano could almost respect.

Prussia made an exaggerated, dramatic expression, clearly overplaying the hurt, as though Germany's words had stung him. Despite his theatrics, he finally set Romano down.

“Finally…” the angry Italian mumbled under his breath, shooting daggers at Prussia with his eyes and cursing him mentally. Prussia, however, just kept smiling that obnoxiously overconfident smile of his, completely unfazed. How annoying!

Once everyone had calmed down, Prussia and Germany swiftly gathered up the luggage the Italian brothers had and began dragging it toward their car, with Veneziano and Romano trailing behind them.

Germany was going to drive, and Veneziano was eager to sit next to him since they hadn’t seen each other in a while. Romano, however, wasn’t too thrilled about that idea. If Veneziano sat next to Germany, it meant he’d be stuck in the back with… him. Romano’s eyes fell on the white-haired German, who gave him a wink. Romano’s face immediately dropped. No way! There was no way he was sitting next to this guy for an hour-long drive. Nooo! In the end, Veneziano reluctantly agreed to sit in the back with his brother, while Prussia and Germany took the front seats. Romano felt a little guilty for making his brother sit with him when he had wanted to spend time with his boyfriend, but he justified it. This was a life-and-death situation! Besides, his brother would have plenty of time to be with his lover during their stay, so it wasn’t that big of a deal.

In the car, Veneziano and Germany, began chatting, though Germany would occasionally turn to Romano with questions like, “How was the flight?” or “Did you two get enough rest?” Romano would respond briefly, just enough to get through the conversation. But of course, Prussia had to insert himself into the mix, and as usual, most of his remarks and questions were directed at Romano, which was beyond frustrating. Romano only responded with short, one-word answers—yes or no, nothing more. His brother would often add to his responses, then end up getting caught up in a completely different conversation with Prussia. Honestly, it was clear that most of the talking during the entire drive was done by Prussia and Veneziano. At least Germany knew when to keep quiet. Another point for him!

By the time they finally reached the Germans' house, it was already dark, and the street lamps had flickered on. Romano was exhausted, and Veneziano, who had already passed out, was slumped against his brother’s shoulder. Romano had been close to falling asleep as well, but no, someone had to stay alert to make sure Prussia didn’t try anything while they were resting! That’s why he had only closed his eyes and pretended to sleep. That's right, he hadn’t actually fallen asleep, it was all just an act! (Newsflash: He fell asleep.)

After parking the car, Germany turned around to check on the two Italians in the back. They were both sound asleep. Germany frowned, while Prussia snickered, clearly finding the whole scene amusing.

“Didn’t they say they slept on the plane? How much do they actually need to sleep?” Germany muttered to Prussia, confusion evident in his voice as he tried to understand the Italians’ bizarre energy levels.

Prussia leaned back in his seat with a smug grin. “Ha! I knew it. Those two could probably sleep through a battlefield!” He glanced at the two men dozing in the back, then shifted his gaze to his brother, his grin growing wider. “Come on,” he said with a chuckle, “don’t act like you don’t think your precious little Italy looks adorable when he’s sleeping.” He pointed at the light-haired Italian, snickering as he mocked his brother.

Germany's face flushed faintly, but he brushed off the remark with a huff. “You really need to keep those thoughts to yourself. Inside voice.” he muttered. After a brief pause, he added, “We need to wake them up. They can’t keep sleeping in the car. I know how they are… if they stay like this much longer, they’ll be cranky and start complaining about neck and back pain.” He spoke with the tone of someone who’d dealt with this before, likely thanks to North Italy.

Prussia shrugged, shifting in his seat. “So what? We’ve got bags to carry. Let them sleep while we haul their stuff inside. A few more minutes won’t hurt…” He trailed off, then slowly turned to his brother with a sly grin. “Orrrr… do you plan to carry him inside, Prince Charming?”

Germany shot him a sharp glare. “Of course not. But if we don’t wake them, they’ll—”

Prussia cut him off, his grin widening. “Wait, wait. You’re actually considering it, aren’t you? Pfft… you’d carry your little Italian boyfriend inside like some kind of fairy tale prince! Oh, I’ve got to see this.”

“Prussia!” Germany snapped, his blush growing darker. “Be serious for once!”

Prussia burst out laughing. “Fine, fine. If you’re taking little Italy…” His gaze shifted to the other sleeping Italian, and he pumped his fist like he’d just won a prize. Germany could only shake his head in disapproval.

“And the awesome me, of course, will take Romano!” Prussia declared, shooting Germany a look that practically demanded agreement.

The blond sighed, defeated, and opened his door. “Fine… Let’s just get this over with.”

Prussia whispered a victorious “Yes!” under his breath as he opened his own door and leapt out of the car.

Germany opened the back door on Veneziano’s side and gently tapped him on the shoulder, hoping to wake him up. But the Italian was out cold, not even flinching. Prussia, opening the opposite door, did the same with Romano—giving him a light poke to check if he was deeply asleep. From the looks of it, he was.

Germany began carefully lifting his boyfriend, while Prussia did the same with Romano. However, the sudden movement seemed to stir the dark-haired Italian, who started to wake up slightly.

Romano’s eyes fluttered open just a crack, and he instantly felt something strange. He wasn’t in the car anymore, but rather... in the air? "What the..." he thought groggily, his mind still half asleep. He felt like he was being held by something… or rather, someone. His gaze shifted to the source of the disturbance, and his blurry vision caught sight of muscular, pale forearms, as well as a necklace with a cross... Wait a minute. Was that the Teutonic Knight's cross?

A split second later, Romano’s mind fully snapped awake, and all the drowsiness vanished in an instant as he realized who was holding him.

“Che diavolo?!” Romano shouted, his eyes flying open as he struggled against the unfamiliar hold. “What the hell do you think you’re doing, you damn potato freak?!” He wriggled and tried to pull away from the—that—creepy, potato-eating weirdo. With his free hand, he shoved it upward, aiming to push the white-haired German’s face away from him.

Prussia’s vision was suddenly blocked as Romano’s hand met his face. In his scramble to back out of the car, he misjudged the space and hit his head on the doorframe, barely managing to keep a grip on the furious Italian.

“Ow…” Prussia grunted, one hand instinctively going to the back of his head, still holding Romano in his other arm. The movement caused Romano’s body to tilt, his head nearly dropping toward the ground.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! Are you trying to kill me?!” Romano screeched, his voice loud enough to not only grab Germany’s attention but also rouse his brother, who was half-draped in his arms.

The white-haired man shook his head, bringing his hand back down to steady Romano, who was still thrashing around as if a cereal killer had grabbed him. “You’re the one who made me hit my head!” he snapped in protest.

Romano didn’t give him a chance to explain. Instead, he started punching him in the chest, though it had little effect, all the while shouting: “LET GO! LET GO! BASTARD!”

Veneziano, alarmed by his brother’s reactions, jumped out of Germany’s arms, frantic with worry. He began waving his arms and yelling: “Please put my brother down! Please!”

Germany, already regretting listening to his brother's suggestion, could only stand there, feeling the chaos around him.

In the end, Prussia set Romano down, only for the Italian to retaliate with a swift kick to his legs, though, once again, it hardly made an impact…

Romano was red, whether from embarrassment, anger, or something else entirely, it was hard to tell. He crossed his arms, glaring at Prussia. “Listen here, you damn albino bastard!” he snapped. “Don’t you ever try something like that again, you got it? I don’t need your stupid hands all over me, and I sure as hell don’t need your help!”

Prussia found the whole thing hilarious, smirking with those infuriating red eyes as if he were watching some sort of… some sort of… Romano couldn’t even think of a comparison, which only made him angrier!

“Just… Just..!” Romano jabbed a finger at him, his voice rising. “Just stay out of my way, leave me the hell alone, and stop looking at me like that!”

“Like what?” Prussia asked, an exaggerated innocent grin on his face as he leaned in a little closer. “You look like a tomato when you’re mad, y’know that?”

Romano sputtered, his face growing even redder. This guy could never take anything seriously! Ugh! “I said leave me alone, you idiot!” With that, he spun around, shoved Prussia aside, and stormed off toward the house, muttering curses under his breath.

Veneziano quickly chased after his brother, trying to calm him down. Prussia chuckled at the sight. Meanwhile, Germany let out a heavy sigh and tossed a suitcase in Prussia’s direction, which he caught effortlessly.

Prussia then turned to his brother with an amused look. “They do realize they won’t even be able to get in, right? We’ve got the keys.” he snickered.

Germany, already worn out from everything, simply responded with a tired. “No. No, they don’t.” He made his way toward the front door, with his brother following behind him, still in much better spirits compared to the rest of them.

You could already imagine how the entire scene played out. Romano couldn’t stop grinding his teeth, seething at the snarky comments the white-haired German kept tossing his way. “Wow! You actually waited for me and didn’t go inside the house?” or “Really going to let me do all the heavy lifting, huh?” He’d point at Romano’s luggage with that infuriating grin.

Damn it! Damn it! Romano wanted nothing more than to snatch the suitcase from him and bash it over his head. But he didn’t do any of that. Instead, he stood there, silently fuming, as he just waited for the door to be unlocked.

Germany carried Italy’s bags to their shared room, while he instructed Prussia to do the same with Romano’s bags, taking them to one of the prepared guest rooms.

The two of them headed upstairs, and Romano stayed silent, clearly deciding that the situation wasn’t worth his time. But as Prussia walked past the guest room Germany had mentioned and right in front of his own room, he couldn’t resist adding in the most annoyingly cocky tone ever. “This is the best room you’ll get around here!”

Romano’s face flushed with rage, steam practically coming out of his nostrils. Without thinking, he stormed up to Prussia, yanked the suitcase from his grip, and marched straight into the guest room, muttering, “Stronzo!” before slamming the door shut and locking it for good measure.

Prussia simply shrugged and made his way to his own room, humming to himself and chuckling as he went.

Romano already knew he was going to despise the next few weeks. Spending time in the company of that horrible former nation was bound to be a miserable experience. This was a terrible idea, he thought as he flopped onto the bed, too drained to bother with a shower or even step out of the room again. Exhaustion overtook him faster than expected, and he drifted off, momentarily forgetting the nightmare of the day he’d just endured…

Chapter Text

Morning, however, wasted no time reminding him. He woke up earlier than usual, his irritation from the night before still lingering. Glancing at the clock on the bedside table, he saw it was only 7:34 a.m. Great. Early. He rubbed his eyes and sat up, pondering the questionable choices that had led him here. But then it hit him: being awake this early meant he could move around without being bothered!

Romano swung his legs out of bed, unlocked the door, and cautiously peeked into the hallway. It was quiet. No signs of life yet. Perfect. Opening the door wider, he stepped out and began his search for the bathroom, carefully opening doors along the way until he finally found it. Relief washed over him as he quickly showered and headed back to his room.

He moved more carefully when passing Prussia's door, unwilling to risk waking that headache-in-waiting. Back in his room, Romano tossed his worn clothes into his luggage and changed into something more comfortable before heading downstairs.

First, he decided to check on his brother and his brother’s boyfriend. Carefully cracking their door open, he peeked inside. Both were still asleep. Germany slept like any normal person, with his arm loosely draped over Italy. But his brother? A complete mess. One arm flung upward, the other smacking Germany in the face, one leg dangling out from under the covers, and the other bent at an impossible angle. Romano sighed.

“Mio Dio, Veneziano…” he muttered under his breath, shaking his head as he gently shut the door to give the couple their privacy. Turning away, he headed for the Germans’ kitchen. It was far too early to function without coffee, and an espresso sounded like exactly what he needed.

Once in the kitchen, he started searching along the counters and kitchen island for coffee beans. Frustration set in as he rummaged through cabinets and even the drawers meant for plates and mugs. Plenty of instant coffee, but no beans... he thought, narrowing his eyes. It was weird, given the coffee machine on the counter clearly needed them. Why have a machine like that without the beans? he wondered irritably, continuing his search, completely absorbed in the task.

So absorbed, in fact, that he failed to notice his elbow brushing against a mug on the counter. The mug wobbled precariously before crashing to the floor with a loud smash, scattering shards everywhere. Romano froze, his eyes widening as he quickly glanced left and right, hoping no one had heard.

The kitchen remained silent. Relieved but still annoyed with himself, he let out a quiet sigh. “Ah… just great…” he muttered, nudging a few shards with his foot before crouching to clean up. He began gathering the larger pieces, cursing his morning luck, when a loud “EHEM” made him freeze. His head snapped around toward the source of the noise.

His eyes narrowed, and his brows furrowed as he recognized the figure leaning casually against the doorframe. Prussia stood there, his white hair even messier than usual, red eyes fixed on him with an expression that, for once, wasn’t its usual smug or obnoxious self. He wore loose, wrinkled pajama pants and an old T-shirt with "AWESOME" sprawled across it. But what really caught Romano’s attention was the faint trace of concern in his gaze.

Prussia tilted his head, studying the Italian before finally speaking. “Uh… what are you doing?”

Romano blinked, a bit thrown off by how normal the guy sounded… no obnoxious laughter or loud voice, just a quieter, softer tone. It was weird. Too weird. Then he realized he was actually dwelling on it, which was even weirder. “I really need coffee…” he thought, shaking his head before glaring up at Prussia, irritation flaring back to its usual place. “None of your damn business!” he snapped, still crouched on the floor. “Go back to bed, you albino lunatic.”

Returning to collecting shards, he muttered under his breath about how his morning was officially ruined and how he couldn’t get a single moment of peace around here.

Prussia snorted, crossing his arms as he leaned further into the doorway. “You’re the one smashing my mugs at the crack of dawn, South. That sounds exactly like my business.”

Romano clenched his jaw, mumbling curses low enough that only he could hear, certain his blood pressure was climbing dangerously high thanks to the other man…

Yet, to his surprise, Prussia didn’t respond with another smug remark. Instead, his focus shifted, his gaze fixed on the shards Romano was holding rather than his bad mood. Before Romano could fully register what was happening, Prussia stepped into the kitchen and knelt down beside him.

Romano blinked, caught off guard, but his glare returned almost instantly. “What the hell are you doing?”

Prussia ignored the question, his gaze still fixed on the broken pieces. “Drop the shards,” he said simply. “You’ll cut yourself.”

The tone took Romano by surprise. It wasn’t teasing or condescending… it was oddly sincere. Without even meaning to, Romano let the shards fall from his hands.

Prussia smirked as if that single moment of cooperation had restored his usual self-confidence. “Knew you’d listen to the awesome me!” he said, his tone once again insufferable.

Romano immediately regretted complying and groaned in frustration. “Tch. Idiot.”

Prussia chuckled, rising to his feet and grabbing a broom and dustpan from the corner of the kitchen. He began sweeping up the broken mug, humming a tune under his breath.

Romano stood as well, crossing his arms tightly. “I didn’t need your help…” he grumbled.

Prussia glanced at him and snickered, which only fueled Romano’s irritation.

“What the hell is so funny?!” he snapped, frowning deeply.

“Sure you didn’t need my help,” the german replied with heavy sarcasm, tossing the shards into the trash. “You totally had it under control. Probably just wanted to bleed all over my floor for fun, huh?”

Romano’s hands balled into fists, and for a moment, he considered grabbing the broom and whacking Prussia over the head with it. “I was looking for coffee beans, okay?” he shot back. “Unlike you uncultured swine, I can’t function without real coffee in the morning!”

Prussia raised an eyebrow, clearly confused. The brunette huffed and gestured toward the coffee machine sitting on the counter.

“Oh,” Prussia said flatly. “Yeah, that thing needs beans. We’re out. West was gonna grab some yesterday after picking you guys up, but someone passed out in the car.”

“Ugh, great…” Romano grumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose. “No coffee and horrible company. What a fantastic morning.”

The other nation chuckled softly as he stepped closer to the angry one. “West warned me about you Italians being grumpy in the morning without coffee, but I didn’t expect it to be this funny seeing you lose your temper over every little thing!” he teased. South Italy, however, just frowned and stayed quiet, glaring off to the side with an annoyed expression.

Noticing this, the white-haired German paused, blinking a few times before awkwardly scratching the back of his head. After a brief hesitation, he spoke up. “Y’know…” Romano immediately let out a tired sigh, clearly uninterested. Ignoring this, Prussia continued. “There’s a coffee shop not far from here. The owners are Italian, or so I’ve heard.”

There was something… off about his tone… nervous, maybe? But why would he be nervous? Romano squinted at him suspiciously, but the mention of Italian owners was enough to hold his attention.

Prussia continued. “I could show you where it is. You could grab some coffee, maybe even pick up some for little Italy. They sell the coffee beans they use too.”

He paused, casting a quick glance at Romano before clearing his throat. In an instant, his demeanor shifted, and the cocky smirk returned. “But, of course, you’ll have to walk with me!” he added with a laugh, flashing a self-assured grin at South Italy.

The dark-haired brunette tried his best to tune out Prussia’s obnoxiousness as he considered the offer. A coffee shop nearby, run by Italians… which practically guaranteed excellent coffee… and they even sold coffee beans. The benefits were undeniable. Sure, the one downside was having to put up with Prussia tagging along, but for coffee that good? It didn’t seem like such a bad trade-off.

Still, Prussia was insufferable… but coffee… Romano weighed his options carefully until finally, he reached a decision.

“Fine,” he said firmly, breaking the silence. Prussia blinked in surprise. “I’ll go with you.”

The German froze mid-laugh, his smirk faltering as he stared at Romano like he’d just heard the most absurd thing. “You… will?” he asked, still sounding a bit unsure, as if trying to process the unexpected response.

Romano nodded but quickly held up a finger. “Yes, but only if you don’t look at me, don’t talk to me, don’t touch me, and…” He paused, thinking for a moment. “And that’s it! Break any of those rules, and I’ll punch you in the face and leave!”

He fixed Prussia with a glare he hoped was intimidating enough. But to his annoyance, Prussia’s expression shifted—no longer surprised but… happy? Excited? Romano wasn’t sure. What he was sure of, though, was the half-smile spreading across the German’s face. It looked weirdly genuine, not that Romano cared or could even recognize a genuine smile from this idiot—assuming Prussia was even capable of such a thing.

Still, the sight left Romano feeling... off. Something twisted in his stomach, and it was definitely a bad kind of weird. Probably just a mix of being too coffee-deprived and too irritated by Prussia’s existence. Yeah, that had to be it. He wasn’t a doctor, so why overthink it?

Before he could dwell on it further, Prussia suddenly pointed at his own shirt. “Too AWESOME to resist, hah!” he declared, reading the word ‘awesome’ off his chest, then jabbed his thumbs toward his face. “I knew my charm would work!”

And just like that, whatever strange feeling Romano had vanished.

“Ugh…” he groaned, already regretting his decision.

“No take backs!” the albino declared, sliding up beside the Italian and throwing an arm around his shoulder. Romano grumbled in irritation, already regretting his life choices.

“Just go put on normal clothes or something!” he snapped, shoving him away. He then turned on his heel and headed to his room to grab warmer clothes and a coat. He had brought them along specifically because he knew the temperature difference between his home and the Germans’ was like night and day.

Prussia stayed behind, a satisfied grin spreading across his face. After a moment, he spun around and dashed toward the area where he and his brother kept their jackets, shoes, and other outdoor essentials.

Romano had thrown a sweater over his shirt and topped it off with his warmest coat, just to be safe. After slipping on his gloves, he headed downstairs to grab his shoes. But before doing so, he caught sight of the clock. 8:24 a.m. Not much time had passed, but it was surprising to him that Germany and his brother were still asleep.

Well, maybe not his brother, that guy slept as if the world was ending tomorrow, but Germany? That was strange. From what Romano knew, the blond was always an early riser, someone who liked to stick to a strict schedule and do everything in an orderly manner. Sleeping in didn’t really seem like something he’d do.
Curious, Romano opened the door to the couple’s room to confirm for himself.

“West sleeps in on weekends.” came a sudden voice behind him, startling Romano enough to make him flinch slightly. He turned his head to find Prussia leaning over his shoulder, also peeking inside with a smug grin plastered on his face.

Romano frowned and hissed, “Get off of me!” as he elbowed Prussia away and firmly closed the door to Germany’s room. Spinning around, he prepared to give the albino a piece of his mind, something along the lines of: “Stop using me as your personal leaning post!”

But as soon as his eyes landed on the red-eyed German, all those words vanished.

What was he wearing?

Prussia hadn’t bothered to change out of his obnoxious “AWESOME” pajama shirt, and his pants were ripped to the point of looking like they belonged in a trash heap. Over this disaster of an outfit, he’d thrown on a leather jacket, unbuttoned, of course, because why wouldn’t it be? He had no gloves, no scarf, and nothing to protect his neck or face from the cold. He looked like a homeless guy who somehow wandered into a rave.

Romano blinked, utterly shocked. No, scratch that. Shocked didn’t even come close to describing what he felt. Disgust? Yes, that was more like it!

Here he was, dressed appropriately—no, fashionably—for the weather, while Prussia looked like… like… he could say it again: HOMELESS!

Was this how Germans dressed when going out? Or was it just in the mornings? Was this their idea of fashion? Romano grimaced at the thought. To be fair, he’d only ever seen Germany and Prussia in their uniforms, and yesterday, he’d been too tired to really notice what they were wearing when they picked him and Veneziano up. But this? This was horrifying.

If Prussia wasn’t going to kill him by constantly riling him up, he was surely going to do it through sheer secondhand embarrassment! God, just looking at him was painful!

“You ready to leave?” Prussia asked, tilting his head toward the front door with that ever-present smirk.

Romano opened his mouth, ready to fire off a scathing remark about his atrocious outfit, but then stopped himself. It wasn’t like his words would make a difference anyway. Instead, he sighed and muttered. “Yeah. Let me just get my shoes…”

He walked over to the shoe cabinet, retrieved his polished leather shoes, and started putting them on. As he tied the laces, his gaze drifted downward… and that’s when he saw them. Bright red sneakers. The ugliest shoes he’d ever laid eyes on.

At first, he thought maybe someone had left them there as a joke. But then he realized they were attached to legs… legs wearing those torn jeans… and wait—oh my God. Those were the shoes Prussia was wearing.

Romano froze, his jaw dropping as if disbelief had overwhelmed him beyond measure. His brain struggled to process what he was seeing. The mismatched disaster of Prussia’s clothes was bad enough, but those shoes? Those were the cherry on top of this mess.

Prussia noticed him staring and grinned smugly. “Has my style really made your jaw drop?”

That cocky comment, paired with that horrific outfit, was too much. This was worse than any nightmare Romano had ever had. He shot to his feet, face contorted in a mix of horror, fury, and utter despair.

“YOU—YOU HAVE NO SHAME!” Romano shouted, pointing an accusatory finger at Prussia’s chest. “CHANGE!”

Prussia burst out laughing at Romano’s reaction. “Pfft… okay, fashion police! Should I be expecting a ticket too?” he teased, his smirk widening.

Romano’s face turned a deep shade of red, not from embarrassment, but pure anger. He hated Prussia’s stupid jokes, especially when they made fun of things he actually cared about—like dressing like a normal human being and not a sewage rat!

“Go alone!” he snapped bitterly, crossing his arms as he spun around, determined to storm back inside.

But before he could get far, Prussia’s laughter abruptly stopped, and he grabbed Romano’s sleeve to stop him in his tracks.

“GO AWAY!” Romano yelled, twisting and shoving at the ridiculously dressed man, desperate to free himself. “I’m not going anywhere with you like this!”

“I’ll change!” Prussia suddenly declared, bringing Romano to a halt.

“You’ll change?” the other nation repeated, his eyes narrowing in disbelief.

Prussia’s red eyes were slightly widened, and for a moment, he looked... worried? Or maybe just a little rattled? Romano wasn’t sure, but the expression reminded him of the one Prussia had worn earlier when he had broken that mug. It was genuine. And for some reason, that made Romano’s anger begin to fade…

“I’ll change my clothes if you really hate them that much.” Prussia continued, his tone sincere.

Romano felt a sudden flutter in his chest—what? He actually wanted to change his clothes just because he didn’t like them? That was… oddly sweet. And yet, weird. Weird! He quickly pushed the thought aside, his mind spinning in circles.

Sighing, he muttered. “No, it’s fine. I’m just not used to… that.” he said, gesturing to Prussia’s entire outfit.

The German nodded, his expression softening as he gave it a moment’s thought. Then, he zipped up his leather jacket so that the “AWESOME” shirt was no longer visible.

“Better, huh? Lass uns gehen! (Let’s go!)” he exclaimed with a bright smile as he opened the front door.

Romano remained frozen for a moment, his hand instinctively rising to his chest as his heart thudded wildly in his ribcage. He couldn’t quite understand why his pulse was racing—was it because of Prussia’s small, insignificant gesture? Had he really just covered up his shirt to avoid making Romano uncomfortable?

Romano swallowed, shaking his head in disbelief. “Che diavolo… Romano, get ahold of yourself…” he muttered under his breath, trying to shake off the overwhelming feelings. With one last glance at Prussia, he finally stepped outside to join the red-eyed German, who was waiting for him with a wide grin.

The walk to the coffee shop turned out to be much more peaceful than Romano had expected. The "great Prussia" didn’t make any ridiculous comments, didn’t try to grab his arm, and, surprisingly, didn’t even look at him! He didn’t walk in front or behind him either; he simply walked beside him, staring off into the distance with a calm, neutral expression. This was unusual for Prussia, who usually made sure everyone knew how amazing he was, always bragging, laughing, poking fun, but now? Nothing. Just silence.

Was it because of the clothes? Romano wondered, feeling a little guilty. He knew he had overreacted, maybe a little… okay, more than a little. But could anyone blame him? Red sneakers and ripped jeans? It was too much! Still, that could explain why Prussia was acting so quiet, like he was sulking. Had he really been upset by what Romano said? Normally, Romano couldn’t care less about anyone else’s feelings, but after what Prussia had done for him, he felt like he needed to make it right. Not that he wanted to… but he had to.

Right before they reached the coffee shop, Romano grabbed Prussia’s arm. The sudden movement caught Prussia’s attention, and he stopped, a bit surprised.

Romano huffed before speaking. “You can wear whatever you want, you know. Just because I don’t like it doesn’t mean anything.”

Prussia blinked, clearly confused, and Romano could tell he had no idea where this was coming from.

“So…” he continued. “I overreacted. Sorry.” The apology came out grudgingly, but he said it. He looked up at Prussia. “So, stop being all silent and weird! You’re way more annoying like this than when you’re being your usual idiot self!”

Prussia stopped in his tracks right in front of the coffee shop’s door, his hand frozen on the handle as he stared at Romano. For a moment, Romano thought he had said something wrong, but then Prussia chuckled and burst into laughter.

Romano was completely thrown off. He had apologized, which he rarely did for anyone, so how could Prussia find it funny?

“What’s so funny?” he demanded, frowning in confusion.

Prussia waved his free hand dismissively, still chuckling. “Pfft… it’s funny because you said that if I came with you, I shouldn’t look at you, talk to you, or touch you. And I did all that, just for you to complain!” He laughed again, shaking his head. He then opened the coffee shop door, the bell ringing, and held it open for Romano with a grin that wasn’t so annoying anymore.

The rich scent of coffee filled the air, along with the warmth of pastries that reminded him of home. It was everything Romano wanted and needed. But he couldn’t focus on that. Why? Because Prussia had done exactly what Romano asked. He hadn’t disturbed him once. Even though Romano had forgotten he’d made that request, Prussia had remembered. And he’d actually respected it.

Romano felt his stomach churn again, and his heart began to race. His face flushed hot, and for some reason, he couldn’t explain why…

Prussia tilted his head, noticing Romano’s hesitation. “You good?”

Romano nodded silently, trying to shake off the weird feelings swirling inside him. He awkwardly shuffled inside the coffee shop, desperate for some kind of distraction.

The menu was a welcome relief. It was full of familiar Italian coffee names: Espresso, cappuccino, ristretto, doppio, macchiato, none of that Americanized frappé nonsense. Romano gave a satisfied sigh as he scanned the options. This place actually had it all.

His eyes landed on a specific section with different types of coffee beans for sale. Robusta and Arabica, those were the beans he and his brother loved! And the pastries, they looked just like the ones from home, especially the biscotti. Whoever this Italian genius was who had opened a coffee shop in Germany was officially his savior. Romano almost felt like praying in gratitude.

He scanned the menu one more time, mentally preparing his order: two espressos, a bag of a mix of the two best coffee beans, and some biscotti. Just as he was about to step up to the counter, his eyes flicked over to Prussia, who had stayed near the exit. Prussia was just watching him, and when their eyes met, he gave Romano a thumbs up.

Romano rolled his eyes. That was so stupid and lame. And yet… despite how ridiculous it was, he found himself thinking about getting something for Prussia and his brother. Damn it, why was he such a softie?

After Romano finished paying, he carefully gathered the coffee, beans, and pastries, giving a quick salute to the cashier before heading toward Prussia, who was still standing by the door, waiting.

“Damn, South, four cups of coffee?” Prussia teased, eyeing the bags Romano was carrying.

“One’s for Veneziano, and the other two are for you and Germany. You two need to start drinking better coffee.” Romano replied, struggling slightly with the bags as he tried to open the door.

Prussia grinned and held the door open for him. “You really got me coffee?” he asked, a bit surprised, as he followed Romano out. “And here you were saying you hated me! You don’t hate me!” he said with a laugh, making Romano sigh in response.

“Don’t make me regret this decision.”

As they made their way back, Romano couldn’t shake the thoughts swirling in his mind. The way Prussia had listened to him, even when Romano hadn’t been serious, and the way he’d covered up his shirt just because he said so—it was all so confusing. Why did he even care? Why did it bother him so much? He sighed in frustration as he glanced at Prussia, but then his gaze shifted to the man’s hands, which were visibly red from the cold. It wasn’t like Prussia didn’t have pockets, but leather didn’t offer much warmth. And the cold morning air certainly didn’t help. Did he really not own gloves, or did he think freezing was somehow cool? Either way, Romano couldn’t help but feel a twinge of pity for him… especially after his earlier actions…

Without thinking, he stopped in his tracks and set the bags down. Prussia halted too, his expression confused.

“Already tired?” he joked, his usual smirk in place. Romano rolled his eyes but approached him anyway, his frustration replaced by something else, something a bit softer.

“Uh… hah, you okay?” Prussia asked, clearly not sure what Romano was doing as the Italian took off his gloves.

Romano didn’t respond right away. Instead, he grabbed Prussia’s cold hand without hesitation. “Your hands are so cold. I knew it.” he muttered, shaking his head. “You should really start dressing better. Give me your other hand.”

Prussia hesitated for a moment before offering his other hand, and Romano wrapped both his hands around them, warming them with his own.

The difference in temperature was immediate, Romano’s hands warm against the chill of Prussia’s. But it wasn’t just his hands that warmed up; something else stirred in the pit of his stomach as he noticed the way Prussia stared at him, red eyes fixed on him like they were searching for something. Romano’s face heated up in response, feeling uncomfortably exposed under that intense gaze.

After a few more seconds, he suddenly let go, the warmth fading as he hastily grabbed the bags and picked up his pace. “Invest in a pair of gloves, idiot.” he muttered, walking ahead toward the house, trying to hide his flustered expression.

Prussia lingered for a moment, looking at his hands, still radiating heat. He snorted softly and turned around, catching up to Romano. “You still don’t have keys!” he called out, amused, as he hurried toward the door, where Romano was waiting.

As they entered, the two others who had just woken up, Germany and Veneziano, greeted them. Germany was slicing bread and cold cuts, while Italy sat sulking in a corner. The moment he spotted his brother, he leapt up and ran to him, throwing himself into his arms.

“Fratello!” he cried out, his voice trembling as if on the verge of tears. “Germany said there are no more coffee beans, so we have to drink instant coffee, but I don’t like instant coffee! Then he suggested tea, and I got scared and cried and—!” His frantic complaint came to an abrupt stop as his eyes landed on the bags his brother was holding. “What’s that?”

Romano shoved Veneziano off and started scolding him. “Idiota! I could’ve dropped everything because of you! Why don’t you think before throwing yourself at people like that?!”

Italy paid no attention to the lecture and peeked into the bag, drawn by the familiar aroma. His eyes lit up as they landed on the carton cups. "Coffee!" he exclaimed, reaching for them. Romano swiftly pulled the bag out of his grasp.
"You got us coffee! You're the best big brother ever!"

"Knock it off!" Romano snapped, holding the bags out of reach. "You’re going to spill it!"

"But I really want coffee!" the younger Italian whined, sounding like a scolded child.

"Then sit down!" Romano said, and before the words were fully out of his mouth, Italy was already seated at the table, grinning with his usual cheerful expression.

With a sigh, Romano kicked off his shoes and walked into the kitchen. He set the bags on the table and began unpacking them. Veneziano's face lit up when he saw the coffee beans and biscotti.

"We can make coffee and eat it with biscotti every morning now, just like at home!" he exclaimed, beaming. As Romano handed him one of the coffee cups, Veneziano wasted no time, taking a sip and breaking into a delighted smile. "This is so good!"

Germany glanced up from his task, noticing Romano and Prussia still dressed in their outdoor clothes. “Did you two go out together?” he asked.

The comment seemed to also pique Veneziano’s interest. “Oh, yeah! You’re both wearing clothes for out—” He started, looking at his brother. But as his gaze shifted to Prussia, who was busy putting the shoes away, his words froze in his throat. His eyes widened in horror.

“AHHHH!” he screamed as if he’d seen a ghost. “WHAT IS THAT?! GERMANY! HELP!” He bolted from his chair and hid behind his boyfriend, trembling with fear.

Germany glanced around, confused. “What is what?” he asked, still trying to understand the commotion.

Prussia looked equally baffled. Romano, however, sighed heavily. “He’s talking about what he’s wearing.” he said, gesturing toward Prussia’s outfit, which was, admittedly, quite dreadful.

“Oh,” Germany replied, his tone flat as he resumed slicing bread. “Clothes can’t hurt you.” His comment was directed at both Veneziano and Romano, somehow knowing the latter had also been unsettled.

Veneziano shuddered, peeking out from behind Germany. “Those can!”

Prussia put on an exaggeratedly sad, dramatic expression. “How come I never had this problem before?” he confessed, slipping off his jacket in an attempt to appease the Italian’s complaints. Unfortunately, it only made things worse.

“AHHH! Now you look like a homeless person!” Veneziano cried out, clutching Germany’s arm for emphasis.

Germany sighed in disapproval, while Romano bit his lip, trying unsuccessfully to stifle his laughter. “He totally does!” he blurted out, doubling over as his laughter spilled out.

Prussia glanced down at himself and shrugged nonchalantly. “I think I look pretty good. But whatever, I’ll change. Relax, guys.” He turned to leave but paused when his brother’s voice stopped him.

“You went with Romano to that coffee shop nearby? The Italian one, right?” Germany asked, glancing over at him.

Prussia turned back, his expression briefly awkward before shifting into one of pride. “Of course I did! Pretty awesome of me, huh? Besides, you’re the one who told me how Italians get angry without coffee, so I showed South where that coffee shop you mentioned was!” He gestured toward the bags Romano had brought in, as if claiming credit for the entire thing.

Romano rolled his eyes, shrugging off his coat as he pulled out his own cup of coffee along with the remaining two. “I bought some for everyone since you two”—he pointed first at Prussia, who was already halfway up the stairs, then at Germany standing near Veneziano—“drink the most disgusting instant coffee I’ve ever seen. That’s not real coffee. This is.” He gave his cup a small shake for emphasis before taking a sip.

Germany was a bit surprised, Romano was usually colder toward him, but he accepted the gesture nonetheless. Out of respect, he took a few sips of the coffee, but his lover’s constant reminders that he’d happily finish any leftovers kept him from drinking it all. Purposefully, he left nearly half the cup untouched and handed it over to Veneziano, who happily accepted it.

Overjoyed, Veneziano drank the rest and munched on a few pastries his brother had also brought along, smiling as if it were the best meal he’d ever had.

Prussia quickly threw on a shirt and sweats before heading downstairs. He practically leapt over the last few steps and hurried into the kitchen, his excitement clear from his rushed movements. “Ah! Time to have an Italian breakfast, the Italian way! Not as awesome as the German way, but still awesome!” he joked, plopping down next to Romano, who sighed in response.

“You do realize you’ll still be hungry after an Italian breakfast, right?” Germany said, giving his brother a sharp look. “It’s just coffee, usually an espresso, with maybe a small amount of sweet biscuits or pastries. I’m pretty sure it’s not your thing.”

“Pfft, okay, killjoy,” Prussia retorted mockingly, waving off the warning. Germany didn’t bother arguing further, already certain he wouldn’t listen. “Coffee’s coffee. I’ll like it.” Prussia added confidently, flashing Romano an overly smug grin.

With an eye roll, Romano handed him a cup of coffee before returning to his own.

Prussia accepted it, staring at the cup as if it were some kind of grand prize. Romano couldn’t help but wonder what was going through his head before Prussia finally took a big sip.

Germany watched his brother closely, and both the Italians’ eyes were locked on him as well. Prussia set the cup down without swallowing, his expression unreadable. For a brief moment, Romano wondered if he might have actually liked it, but that notion vanished with Prussia’s next move.

“PFFFTTT…!” Prussia suddenly spat the coffee out, spraying it across the table. The reaction startled everyone. Romano froze mid-drink, Veneziano nearly fell out of his chair, and Germany simply looked at him, his expression saying, I told you so.

“The coffee!” Veneziano cried, horrified at the sight.

Prussia blinked in confusion, then took the lid off the cup and inspected its contents. It was just coffee. Plain, black coffee.

“Huh? Where’s the milk and sugar?”

Romano groaned, Germany sighed, and Veneziano stared in silence, still processing the travesty.

“It’s an espresso, you idiot!” Romano snapped. “It doesn’t have milk or sugar! What kind of cultural insult is this?”

Prussia stared at him for a moment, his cocky demeanor faltering. He glanced between Romano and the cup, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. “Haha…! Yeah, I knew that! I was just, uh, so overwhelmed by how… eh, awesome it tasted that I—”

“You spat it out!” Veneziano interrupted, plopping back into his chair and biting into a biscuit, sulking dramatically.

Prussia nodded awkwardly, his confidence all but gone. “Yeah…”

“You don’t have to drink it plain. You could just add—” Germany began, but his brother quickly cut him off.

“No! No! No! It’s good, it’s very good!” Prussia blurted out, his eyes darting to Romano as he spoke. Germany raised a brow, wondering why. “I’ll drink it.” Prussia added, then began taking small sips, actually swallowing the bitter coffee. Both Germany and Romano watched him in surprise.

Romano frowned, puzzled. “You clearly don’t like it. Why are you forcing yourself to drink it?”

Prussia paused mid-sip and looked at Romano, who was studying him curiously. For a moment, Prussia’s gaze softened, his red eyes squinting ever so slightly as he gave a warm smile. Even Romano couldn’t miss the sincerity in it.

“You said you got this for me,” he replied gently. “Why wouldn’t I drink it?”

Romano's eyes widened slightly as that strange feeling he’d experienced several times today resurfaced.

Germany, too, was taken aback by his brother’s words. He stared at him with genuine surprise, maybe even realization, as if he’d just uncovered a side of Prussia he hadn’t known existed.

Meanwhile, Italy remained blissfully unaware, happily munching on his biscuits, oblivious to what was happening around him.

Prussia, noticing the looks he was getting, awkwardly cleared his throat and hastily added. “Plus, you said our coffee sucks, so I have to drink this one, right? It’s better! Gotta get used to it!”

The words came out hurried, lacking the sincerity of his earlier statement, but he hoped it was enough to shift the mood.

Romano turned his head back to his almost-empty cup, his heartbeat pounding in his ears. His breaths came quicker, and a wave of unease washed over him. Oh no. He shifted his gaze toward the German sitting beside him, still struggling to finish his coffee.

He stared at Prussia’s face intently, his eyes tracing every feature… especially those red eyes. His heart began to race even faster, his palms slick with sweat against the cardboard coffee cup. He tore his gaze away, focusing on the espresso in his hand, but he could no longer sit still. A sense of panic bubbled up inside him. Oh no. Oh no, no, no! No!

Biting his tongue in an attempt to steady himself, Romano tried to deny the overwhelming feelings surging through him. He had one idea of why he felt so strange whenever he looked at Prussia, but he didn’t want to consider it, much less accept it. It’s impossible! And yet, when he dared to glance at the albino once more, the same symptoms came back… only stronger. No! No! No! This isn’t real! He told himself firmly. I hate him! I despise him! There’s no way... no way I could feel this for him!

“I’m done.” Romano blurted out abruptly, standing up and turning away. Without another word, he hurried up the stairs.

Prussia watched him leave, his eyes narrowing as he rested his face on his hand, as if deep in thought.

Meanwhile, Veneziano stood and glanced at Romano’s almost-empty coffee cup. “He didn’t drink it all.” he remarked, his voice tinged with concern. Both Germans looked at him, puzzled.

“That’s really not like him at all...” Veneziano murmured before leaving the kitchen to follow his brother upstairs.

Romano threw himself onto his bed, face buried deep into the pillow as his mind spun wildly. He couldn’t believe it. The signs were all there… rapid heartbeat, shallow breaths, sweaty palms, flushed face. Dio! How did this even happen? How could he, of all people, develop feelings for that idiot, moron, jerk, bastard! How could he possibly like Prussia?

He groaned into the pillow, trying to piece together how this disaster began. Did he like him before today? Impossible.There was no way a single day could turn him into some ridiculous, love-struck schoolgirl swooning over her crush. It was pathetic! When he’d arrived, he’d been sure he hated Prussia’s guts. But then again... he had turned red when that idiot tried to carry him inside while he was half-asleep. That was one of the signs, wasn’t it?

“Ugh! Dio, what am I even thinking about?” Romano groaned again, his fists clenching. The only thing he should be focusing on was how to get rid of these terrible feelings because there was absolutely no way he’d ever fall for that stupid, messy German who didn’t even like espressos. And yet... his chest fluttered just thinking about that idiot’s face… his stupid, stupid face.

“AHHHH!” Romano yelled, jerking upright in frustration.

The door burst open, and Veneziano rushed in, wide-eyed. “Why are you yelling?! Are you okay? Is there a bug? I don’t like bugs!” he squeaked, jumping onto the bed beside Romano.

Romano didn’t even have the energy to yell at him or tell him to leave. He just sighed, trying to compose himself. “No, there’s no bug.” he finally muttered, calming his brother down.

“Oh, thank goodness!” Veneziano exclaimed with relief before his face shifted into a concerned frown. “Is everything alright? You didn’t drink all your coffee… Did Prussia make you sad because he spat it out? I was really sad too, but I don’t think he meant it! He just didn’t like it!”

Romano groaned again, running a hand down his face. “No, it’s not that.” he said, though the truth was far more complicated. He didn’t want to tell Veneziano what was really bothering him, not when he didn’t even fully understand it himself. All he knew was that he needed it to stop. He needed to go back to hating Prussia like he always had.

After a moment, he hesitated before speaking. “Hypothetically… if someone… I don’t know, possibly liked someone but didn’t want to, how would they stop?”

Veneziano tilted his head in confusion, but then he beamed. “I’d tell them to embrace that love, not run away from it!” he said brightly.

Useless, Romano thought with a sigh. Of course, his brother wouldn’t understand.

“Veneziano,” Romano began firmly. “you know I hate that jerk Prussia, right?”

“Of course!” Veneziano chirped. “You’re always yelling at him and getting mad every time we visit Germany because he’s around!”

Romano exhaled in relief. “Good.” If everyone believed he still hated Prussia, then maybe he could bury whatever these feelings were and get rid of them entirely. For now, he’d just act the same as always. Everything would go back to normal eventually… it had to.

In the kitchen, the mood wasn’t much different from upstairs. Prussia had taken it upon himself to devour most of the cold cuts Germany had prepared, focusing mainly on the meats. He couldn’t survive on bitter coffee and sugary biscuits alone…

Germany, however, kept watching him with a suspicious gaze, his expression stern. Prussia glanced at his brother mid-bite, finally swallowing before speaking. “What? What’re you looking at me like that for?”

Germany let out a long, exasperated sigh, his face dead serious. “Bruder… you know I can tell when something’s bothering you or when you’re hiding something from me…”

Prussia blinked, completely lost. “Okay?” he replied, still chewing on a piece of ham.

Germany’s patience was wearing thin. He leaned forward, deciding to be more direct. “Oh, verdammt! (God damn it!) How can you go after my boyfriend’s brother so shamelessly?!” His voice rose, startling Prussia so much that he dropped the ham from his mouth.

A beat of silence passed before Prussia shouted back. “WELL…! DON’T SAY IT LIKE THAT! It sounds wrong!” He slammed both hands on the table and sat down, his face flushed.

“Besides,” he muttered, trying to compose himself. “what’s so wrong about that? You’ve got an Italian you like. Can’t I have one too?”

Germany frowned. “You can, but you shouldn’t toy with someone just for fun. Romano may have a fiery temper, but he’s sensitive, just like Italy. A lot of things hurt him, and you shouldn’t be one of them just because you’re curious about what it’s like to have... an Italian.” His tone was serious.

Prussia’s eyes widened, and he shot to his feet, slamming his hands on the table. “JUST WHAT KIND OF PERSON DO YOU THINK I AM?!” he shouted, louder than necessary. “Just because I’m awesome and love awesome things, and, yes, enjoy being worshipped, doesn’t mean I can’t have real feelings like anyone else!”

Germany blinked, unimpressed. Why is he bringing up his ‘awesomeness’? That wasn’t even the topic, he thought before responding. “You’re saying you have real feelings for Romano?” His gaze sharpened as Prussia gave a small, almost nervous nod, his face tinged pink, a sight Germany hadn’t seen since their younger days.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Germany sighed. “You… do…” he said, almost in disbelief. “But seriously… Romano? The brother of the man I’m in a relationship with? Do you realize how strange that sounds? ‘Hey, brother, I’m going to date the brother of your lover!’ You couldn’t have picked anyone else?”

Prussia blinked at him, dumbfounded. “That’s your biggest concern?!” he shouted. “And don’t say it like that! Of course it sounds weird when you put it like that! Just use our names!” He huffed and lightly punched the table for emphasis.

Germany shook his head but relented. “Fine. So, you genuinely like him... When did this even start? And does he feel the same? Does he even like you as a person?” His tone was skeptical.

Prussia gasped in mock offense. “WHAT?! What kind of question is that?! Of course he likes me as a person!” Running a hand through his hair, he let out an exaggerated laugh. “Haha! Who wouldn’t? Look at this handsome face and irresistible charm! I’m too awesome for this world!”

Germany exhaled sharply. “Yeah, I definitely have doubts.”

“YOU HAVE A TERRIBLE ATTITUDE!” Prussia snapped, pointing an accusatory finger at him.

He then sighed and picked up the cup of coffee (the one Romano had gotten for him) that he still hadn’t finished. He stared at it with an unexpectedly soft expression, one that didn’t escape Germany’s notice.

“I think it started after little Italy began visiting you more often when you two got together,” Prussia began, his voice quieter than usual. “Romano would come along, and there were all those times we ended up stuck together because, well, you two had your… couple things to do. At first, I didn’t think much of it, but over time…” He hesitated, his gaze fixed on the cup. “I started to like his company. I liked the way he’d bite back with those snarky comments. I liked how he’d try to hide it when he was happy… and the way his face would look when—”

“Okay, okay, stop listing every detail. I get it.” Germany interrupted, raising a hand. “But what does he think of you? From what I’ve seen, you don’t exactly leave the best impression…” he muttered.

Prussia paused, his gaze dropping to his hands as he replayed the morning in his mind. The way Romano placed his warm hands over his cold ones and gazed at him with his brown-green eyes... The memory brought a faint, almost shy smile to his face. “He doesn’t hate me.” he said quietly, still looking down. “I know that much. And I can work with that.” He glanced up, his confident grin returning.

Germany sighed, a resigned expression settling on his face. “Fine… Is that why you went with him this morning?”

Prussia nodded, leaning back in his chair. “Yeah, figured if we spent more time alone, I could win him over. Ha!”

“‘Win him over,’ huh?” Germany repeated, his brow furrowing in thought. “Well… if your intentions are genuine and what you’re saying is true, then I have no reason not to support you.”

Prussia’s eyes immediately sparkled with emotion, tears threatening to fall as he clasped his hands together dramatically. “You mean that?! Really?!”

Germany placed a hand on his shoulder with a small nod. “Ja. I can even help you figure out how to spend time alone together. But whatever you do, don’t repeat what you pulled this morning.”

Prussia tilted his head, confused. “What did I do?”

Germany gave him a deadpan look. “Coffee.”

“Oh.” Prussia blinked, then winced. “Right. Oops…”

Just after the conversation, Italy walked back into the kitchen, his steps light but tired.

“Oh, Italy,” Germany greeted him, and the shorter man leaned his head on his boyfriend’s shoulder as if already drained from the day. Germany gently patted his head and asked, “Did Romano say why he ran off like that? Is he okay?”

“Ah…” Veneziano mumbled, pausing as he recalled what his brother had said, then brightened as he remembered. “Sì! He said he hates Prussia!” he announced cheerfully, completely unaware of the awkwardness of the situation.

A glass screen shattered behind the two Germans. Germany shot a glance at his brother, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “‘He doesn’t hate me. I know that much,’ huh?” He shook his head, not believing how clueless Prussia was when it came to relationships.

Prussia, still stunned, could only stand there in disbelief.

With the morning chaos behind them, well, mostly, everyone returned to their routines. Romano decided the best way to deal with the situation was to avoid Prussia entirely. If he didn’t see him, he wouldn’t have to deal with those annoying emotions, and maybe, just maybe, they’d fade on their own.

When Germany and Veneziano decided to go out for the day, Romano followed suit, purely to avoid being alone in the house with that white-haired idiot. His plan was simple: wander the city and wait until it was safe to return.

Of course, Prussia had enthusiastically suggested being his guide, claiming his unrivaled expertise of the German capital. Romano, however, flatly refused and bolted out the door without so much as a glance back.

Throughout the day, Romano sent his brother countless texts: “Are you back yet?” “When are you back?” “Sei tornato? (Are you back?)” Finally, as evening fell, Veneziano responded with a simple “Yes.” Exhausted from roaming the city all day, Romano hurried back, eager to retreat to his room and put the entire day behind him.

But, of course, nothing ever went that smoothly.

The moment he stepped through the door, Veneziano ambushed him, insisting they watch a movie together with everyone. Romano refused, naturally, but his brother’s pleading wore him down. Reluctantly, he agreed. Just one movie, he told himself. And he wouldn’t even talk to that annoying German bastard. It’ll be fine, he thought.

On the couch, Romano made sure to sit on the far edge, pulling Veneziano close to his side like a protective barrier. Germany sat on Veneziano’s other side, and Prussia was all the way at the opposite end. No problems here. Nothing to worry about.

Except, of course, the thing he dreaded most happened.

The movie wasn’t even over when Veneziano dozed off, his head lolling onto Germany’s shoulder. Germany noticed immediately and stood, announcing that he was taking Veneziano to bed. Without hesitation, he scooped up the sleeping Italian and disappeared into their room, leaving Romano alone on the couch.

Alone. With Prussia.

Just great.

“Italy, you bastard… I trusted you!” Romano fumed internally, clutching a pillow to his chest and biting down on his tongue to stop himself from growling in frustration. He wanted to leave, desperately, but if he got up right after his brother and Germany, it’d look suspicious. He’d have to wait at least another half an hour.
But damn it, he didn’t want to wait.

Stealing a glance to his side, he saw Prussia staring directly at him. Staring. God! He whipped his gaze back to the TV, but the glowing images on the screen didn’t register in his mind. Why the hell is he staring at me? he seethed. Creepy bastard.

Yet… despite his irritation, a stubborn warmth bubbled in his chest, and his face began to burn. Damn it! Damn my stupid insides!

He heard Prussia shift on the couch, and then the dreaded sound of his voice. “There’s a lot of space between us, haha! You wanna come closer?”

Romano stiffened, refusing to look at him. Instead, he stared at the floor, hugging the pillow tighter like it was the only thing keeping him sane.

Prussia, undeterred by the silence, gave an awkward laugh. “Or… I’ll just move myself, hah!” he said with far too much enthusiasm.

Before Romano could react, Prussia slid closer, way closer, until the heat of his presence was unbearable. Romano’s nerves screamed in protest, and he nearly choked on his frustration. Why is he like this?!

Romano flushed, his face heating up as he buried half of it into the pillow he was hugging. “Just what do you think you’re doing, idiot…” he muttered angrily into the fabric, his voice muffled but sharp.

Prussia blinked, his expression awkward as he scratched the back of his neck. “Ha, oops. Too close?” he replied with an uncertain laugh, scooting a few inches away.

For some reason, that only made Romano more annoyed. How dare he just listen to me so easily?! Stupid guy!

“Better?” Prussia smirked, clearly trying to lighten the mood, and Romano scowled in response.

“No, you damn jerk!” he snapped, chucking the pillow straight at Prussia’s face.

Prussia pulled the pillow off his head, looking genuinely puzzled. “Uh? What did I even—”

“Shut up!” Romano cut him off, his voice rising. “I’m trying to watch the movie!”

Prussia turned back to the TV, shrugging like he’d given up, but he couldn’t help himself. Every few seconds, he sneaked glances at Romano.

Romano noticed every single one.

Is it that hard to just keep your stupid eyes to yourself?! he thought furiously, his embarrassment mounting. Stupid, stupid… Inside, he was screaming with equal parts rage and embarrassment, the warmth in his chest refusing to go away no matter how much he tried to smother it.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, until Prussia spoke again. “Uh, I hope you’re not too upset about the whole coffee thing…” he said, scratching the back of his neck.

Romano looked up, caught off guard. Why is he bringing that up now?

“I know spitting it out was the opposite of awesome, ha… Sorry.” Prussia added, giving the Italian a weak, almost shy smile.

Romano’s face burned like he had a fever. This… this guy! Apologizing for something so dumb, something I didn’t even care about! And yet, he thought it mattered and said sorry?

His thoughts spiraled as he stared at Prussia, flustered beyond belief. What a moron! How could someone be so—?! This is so…! Ugh!

Unable to deal with the rush of emotions, Romano spun around and shoved his face into a pillow, muffling an agonized groan. His body was betraying him… heart racing, stomach churning, palms sweaty. And worst of all, the heat in his chest wasn’t from anger but… something else. Damn it, damn it, damn it!

Prussia tilted his head in confusion. “Uh, are you okay?” he asked, leaning slightly closer. When Romano didn’t respond, he poked the fuming Italian cautiously. Still nothing.

“Roma—” he began, leaning even closer to get a better look, when Romano suddenly whipped around.

“What?!” Romano barked, but his voice faltered as his eyes widened in shock. Prussia was right there. Their faces were inches apart, his red eyes locked onto Romano’s. His messy white hair was so close Romano could see every strand, and he could feel the faint warmth of Prussia’s breath brushing against his skin.

For a second, Romano froze, his mind blank. His face… his stupid face… so close! His soul practically left his body.

“W-WHAT ARE YOU—BASTARD! JERK! IDIOT!” Romano yelled, breaking the moment by shoving Prussia away with his legs before scrambling to his feet.

Prussia stumbled back, confused. “Was it really necessary to kick me?!”

“Stupid idiot!” Romano snapped, his voice rising. “I didn’t care about that dumb coffee! Stop apologizing for every little thing!” Without waiting for a response, he bolted up the stairs and slammed his door shut, locking himself away in his room.

Left behind, Prussia sat on the couch, still processing what had just happened. After a moment, a chuckle escaped his lips. Romano’s flustered reaction was both hilarious and… kind of cute.

Meanwhile, in his room, Romano was an absolute wreck. He paced, muttering under his breath, trying to shake the overwhelming feelings invading his mind. But no matter how much he denied it, one thought kept creeping back:

That idiot Prussia… He’s so annoying… but also so… nice… and… good-looking…

Romano groaned, dropping onto his bed and pulling the covers over his head. “God damn it…” he whispered, face burning hotter than ever. There was no escaping the truth. He liked that idiot Prussia. God, damn it!

Chapter Text

Romano had spent most of the night (well, "most" might be stretching it—he fell asleep pretty quickly) trying to figure out how to make himself feel normal again. By that, he meant ridding himself of these strange feelings for his brother’s boyfriend’s brother. Ugh, even thinking about it like that made it sound so wrong.

Whatever.

He realized that ignoring the white-haired idiot was impossible. It would only backfire. Yesterday was proof enough of that. So, he needed a new plan. And he came up with a brilliant one!

The key was to see the worst in Prussia again. These confusing emotions only popped up because he’d seen the guy being… decent. Nice, even. And since Romano wasn’t used to that, of course he’d gotten all mixed up! But if he could start seeing Prussia in a bad light again, all those ridiculous feelings would disappear, and things would go back to normal.

Yeah, it made perfect sense!

And that’s exactly what he planned to do.

Except… it was proving ridiculously hard to see someone you… oh, for crying out loud, he couldn’t even bring himself to say the word like. Fine, someone you’re… fond of… in a bad way. Every time that red-eyed idiot did something remotely normal, like tidying up or saying something that wasn’t dripping with obnoxiousness, Romano’s brain would completely short-circuit.

And then it’d happen. A stupid, imaginary pink screen with sparkles and bubbles would pop up behind Prussia, like some ridiculous romance scene from a cheap novel. What the hell! Now he was hallucinating!

And, what the hell, part two: how could he be fond of someone for doing the bare minimum?! He seriously needed to raise his standards.

So, inevitably, he did what he did best: run away from his problems. Literally.

Romano had spent most of the day holed up in his room, doing absolutely nothing. His brother, naturally worried, kept checking in on him every so often, which only added to his annoyance. Finally, to prevent his brother from having a full-blown panic attack, and to get him off his back, Romano decided to leave his room. He needed some peace and quiet anyway, so he figured he’d head out and find someplace to clear his mind.

Everyone else was still busy in the living room—except for Prussia. Romano noticed his absence almost immediately. He found himself wondering if the white-haired german was in his room, out of the house, or just off doing something else entirely. Not that he really cared, of course. And there was no way he was going to let his brother or Germany know he was even thinking about him, so he kept quiet about it.

Instead, he simply told them, “I’m heading out. I’ll be back soon.” before slipping out the door.

It wasn’t too late, but the air was chillier than Romano liked, so wandering aimlessly wasn’t exactly appealing. Plus, he was kind of hungry. Sure, he’d be eating with the others later, but a snack sounded good right about now.

The problem was… German food wasn’t his thing. In fact, he wasn’t much of a fan of it at all. The street food was tolerable at best, and while the pretzels could be decent fresh out of the oven, he wouldn’t touch them cold. Not even for money.

Still, he did happen to know, unfortunately, thanks to Prussia, about a certain Italian coffee shop not far from the Germans’ house. The coffee he’d tried the day before had been pretty good, and the biscuits hadn’t been bad either. But, of course, that was to be expected. The owners were Italian, as Prussia had pointed out, and in Romano’s opinion, Italians always knew what they were doing when it came to food.

Romano vaguely recalled seeing focaccia in the display case when he’d glanced at the pastries the day before. Maybe that would make a nice snack, along with something warm to drink. Of course, focaccia would pair better with a sparkling white wine, but it wasn’t like he was in the mood for alcohol right now, nor did he think a coffee shop would have wine on the menu. A latte, though? That could work. It would warm him up and be good enough for the moment.

With that thought, Romano set off toward the coffee shop, retracing the streets and turns he’d taken the day before. His memory served him well, and soon enough, he arrived at the familiar spot.

The sight of the coffee shop's display case, filled with Italian pastries and snacks, instantly made Romano feel a little more at ease. Grande! (Great!) This was exactly what he needed! A small break from all his frustrations. With renewed determination, he strode toward the glass door, hand reaching for the handle, ready to pull it open.

But just as his gaze shifted to the interior of the shop, his stomach dropped. Standing at the counter, casually chatting with the cashier—or maybe the owner, he didn’t care—was the one person he was determined to avoid.

Prussia.

Right there.

Romano blinked and squinted through the glass, hoping—no, praying—he’d seen wrong. Maybe it wasn’t Prussia. Maybe it was just someone with the same stupid white hair and irritatingly smug posture.

But no, it was Prussia.

Romano’s lips pressed into a tight line. “What?” he muttered under his breath. “What the hell is he doing here?”

This was supposed to be an Italian sanctuary!

Okay, fine, it wasn’t technically a sanctuary… it was in Germany, after all, and it was Prussia who had pointed this place out to him. But that wasn’t the point! The point was that Romano had come here to avoid exactly this situation. And now there he was, ruining everything!

Romano let out a frustrated huff, his grip on the door handle tightening so much that he half-expected it to snap off. He glared through the glass, his expression a mix of irritation and… something he wasn’t ready to admit.

What was Prussia even doing? He was lingering by the counter, chatting up the cashier with that stupid grin of his. Romano watched as the German’s confident demeanor faltered for a moment, replaced by something that looked suspiciously like nervousness.

“Wait a minute…” Romano muttered under his breath, his brows furrowing deeper. “What’s his deal? Nervous? Him? Talking to her like that…”
His eyes narrowed further. Was Prussia trying to… flirt?!

The nerve! The absolute nerve of that bastard!

Romano’s scowl deepened, his mind racing with accusations he wasn’t entirely sure made sense. What a cheap flirt! What a two-timing jerk! Who even did that? Seriously, who—

He froze mid-thought, realizing how ridiculous he sounded.

“Hold on a second…” he muttered, his expression shifting to something almost sheepish. “Why am I even mad?” It wasn’t like he cared about what Prussia did or who he talked to. He was trying to stop liking him, for heaven's sake! He should’ve been thrilled to see that guy showing interest in someone else—it would’ve made getting over him so much easier, right?

And yet… if that were true, then why was he clutching the door handle like he was ready to barge in and demand answers? Why did his chest ache at the sight of that insufferable, annoying, infuriatingly charming idiot talking to someone else?

Was he… jealous? No, no, that was absurd! There was no way he could feel something like that for a guy like him. Absolutely not!

He crossed his arms and took a step back from the door, trying to convince himself he was just… surprised. Yeah, surprised. Surprised that anyone, let alone some random cashier, would bother giving that guy the time of day.

With that, Romano let go of the handle and took a deep breath, ready to leave. His appetite had long vanished, replaced by frayed nerves and a restless mind. Yet… for some reason, he found himself unable to move away…

It wasn’t that he cared what that German was talking about with the lady. That was their business. No, no, he just wanted to make sure Prussia wasn’t saying anything ridiculous or inappropriate to the poor girl. After all, nobody deserved to endure a conversation with someone like him! Who knows what kind of nonsense he might be spouting… Yes, that was the reason. He just wanted to ensure the girl wasn’t suffering. Absolutely no other motive…

Romano leaned against the door again, straining to catch any part of the conversation. But the thick glass made it impossible to understand anything—just muffled sounds and occasional bursts of laughter. What on earth was Prussia laughing about?! Romano frowned, his grip on the handle tightening in frustration.

What he didn’t realize, though, was that his constant fumbling and tugging at the handle was having an effect. In fact, with just a bit more force…

Out of what was likely sheer annoyance, Romano gave the handle one last pull—and the door creaked open, just slightly. It wouldn’t have been a big deal under normal circumstances… if not for the bell above the door that rang loud and clear, announcing to everyone inside that someone had just entered.

Both Prussia and the woman at the counter turned their heads, their gazes landing squarely on Romano, who stood frozen on the other side of the barely open door. Oh God, the Italian thought, this could not possibly get more embarrassing or infuriating. His eyes darted to the ground, trying desperately to calm the many… MANY emotions bubbling inside him…

It seemed he had no choice now but to step inside. Leaving would only make things worse… like he was sneaking around or, worse, spying. Which he absolutely was not doing! Not at all!

"Alright, Romano, just stay calm… Grab what you need and leave. You don’t even have to speak to that idiot…” he muttered to himself, glancing at Prussia, who was already eyeing him with that usual annoying gaze. Romano exhaled loudly, resigned to the situation, and opened the door fully before stepping inside.

He made a conscious effort to keep his face hidden, his cheeks burning red from the sheer embarrassment of being caught in the act. Instead, he focused on the display case, hoping to avoid any more awkward exchanges.

Of course, despite his best efforts to block it out, he couldn't escape the inevitable. Prussia was going to say something—and, unfortunately, Romano didn't have the luxury of tuning him out this time.

“Heeeey!” Prussia called out cheerfully. Why was he in such a good mood, damn it? “You came here for more coffee? Huh? Haha! I knew you’d like this place!” He grinned, and Romano immediately turned away, his face heating up even more. He already looked flustered; he didn’t need to resemble a full-blown tomato!

Muttering under his breath, Romano gave his cheeks a quick slap to snap himself out of it. Then, with as much composure as he could muster, he turned back to Prussia and shot him the most annoyed glare he could manage.

“Ugh… as if I’d like anything you’d suggest.” he snapped bitterly. “But it’s Italian, and it’s the only decent place around here, so… yeah.”

Why did he sound so angry? Prussia hadn’t even done anything, other than speak cheerfully to the cashier. That wasn’t remotely offensive. And yet… somehow, it still grated on him. Not that Romano would admit that. Ever.

The German gave him a surprised look before smirking, that irritating grin spreading across his face. “Looks like someone’s in a bad mood! Didn’t sleep last night or what?” he teased, his words only fanning the flames of Romano’s already simmering temper.

Then, as if that wasn’t enough, Prussia turned to the woman at the counter and grinned. “Ah, that’s a reason to be angry in Italy, right?” he asked casually.

Romano rolled his eyes so hard it was a miracle they didn’t stay that way. Seriously? Was he really asking the cashier something like that? And in front of him, no less! Was this idiot actually flirting with her? Unbelievable! The guy was utterly shameless! But before Romano could stew further in his indignation, the woman responded.

“Ah, sì, though I wouldn’t say that’s true for all of us. But yes, especially back home in Calabria, people do get cranky if they’re not well rested.” she replied with a warm smile.

Romano froze, his irritation giving way to sudden realization. That accent… it was… a southern Italian accent. And she said her home was Calabria?

She was from South Italy?!

Prussia nodded at her response, then grabbed a bag with the coffee shop’s logo on it before turning back to Romano with a wide, self-satisfied grin. “I got some pretty awesome stuff from this place for you, since you’re not exactly a fan of our traditional food, and I heard you complaining after lunch. Thank Gott one of the owners was here today, so I could get recommendations from someone who actually knows your food!” he announced, practically beaming.

He held up the bag as if it were a trophy. “And I didn’t even know they sold homemade pasta… uh, shapes? Types? Or… yeah, whatever. Anyway, I got some of those too! Uh, pen… penne? And orchi… orche… ore…” He stumbled over the names, his forehead wrinkling as he tried to piece them together.

The woman behind the counter stepped in before he butchered them entirely. “Penne and Orecchiette.” she warmly corrected him.

“Ah, yeah, yeah, that!” Prussia exclaimed, giving her a thumbs up as if she’d just solved a grand mystery.

Romano stood there, momentarily stunned, unable to form a response.

“Ah, you’re the Italian this young man was buying food for, giusto (right)?” the woman asked, her tone light and friendly. “I gave him our freshest selections of pastries and savory food, so non preoccuparti (don’t worry)!” She offered him a brief smile before turning away to check on something in the ovens behind the counter.

That left Romano standing there, alone with his thoughts—and Prussia.

Oh. My. God. He was the worst. A horrible person! Terrible!

Prussia… annoying, loud, irritating Prussia, had come here to buy food he knew Romano liked. A genuinely thoughtful gesture. And what had Romano done? He’d immediately assumed the worst of him, thinking he was here to flirt with the cashier or whatever other ridiculous nonsense his frazzled brain had conjured.

Two-timing?! Who was Prussia even “two-timing”? The air? Because there was no relationship here! Not even close!

Aaaahhhh! What was wrong with him? Why would he even think something so ridiculous?!

This was more humiliating than the earlier situation. So much worse. He wanted to sink into the floor and disappear. His face burned with sheer, unrelenting embarrassment, and the heat only seemed to spread the more he thought about it. Why, why, why? This was unbearable! If melting into the ground were an option, he would gladly take it right now!

Prussia raised an eyebrow as he noticed how unusually quiet Romano was and how much he was avoiding eye contact. Taking a step closer, he tilted his head, clearly puzzled. “You okay?” he asked, his tone laced with curiosity. But then his expression shifted, and it was obvious he was trying, and failing, not to laugh.

“You’re kind of… pfft, red…” he said, a swallowed chuckle escaping as he brought a hand to his mouth in a futile attempt to hide his amusement.

That did it. This was officially too much. Romano could feel his face grow even hotter, and any shred of composure he’d been clinging to completely unraveled. He wasn’t in the mood to argue, not this time. He felt awful for thinking Prussia was some kind of shameless flirt, and the sheer awkwardness of the situation left him without the energy for his usual retorts.

At this point, all he wanted was to go back to the house, lock himself in his room, and stay there for the rest of his visit. Anything would be better than enduring another second of this embarrassing exchange.

Romano didn’t dignify Prussia’s smug remark with a response. Instead, he slowly turned around, making the albino blink in confusion.
“I’m going. Bye.” he muttered flatly.

“Huh?!” Prussia exclaimed, his surprise evident. “You’re leaving? But you didn’t even—”

Romano didn’t wait to hear the rest. He scurried to the door, desperate to escape whatever embarrassing nonsense was about to follow, and placed his hand on the handle. He pulled the door

It didn’t budge.

He frowned, tugging harder. Still nothing.
What the hell was wrong with this stupid door?! He pulled again, this time with all the strength his flustered state could muster, but it stayed stubbornly shut.

Of all the times for something to go wrong, it had to be now, when he was literally trying to run away from his problems! And this ridiculous door was refusing to let him!

“Son of a…!” Romano growled under his breath as he yanked repeatedly on the door handle, desperate to make it budge. But no matter how hard he pulled, it wouldn’t move. What in the world was going on?! Was it locked? How could it be locked? Nobody had locked it! This was absurd!

Frustration mounting, Romano began tugging at the door like a lunatic, his motions growing more frantic by the second, as though he were trying to escape some kind of asylum.

Behind him, Prussia noticed the struggle and burst out laughing. Laughing! Couldn’t he see Romano was clearly in distress? The nerve of that guy! Laughing while someone was clearly dealing with an issue! Absolutely unbelievable!

“You’re pulling on the door…” Prussia said with a snicker, moving closer as he watched Romano struggle with the stubborn door.

Romano groaned in frustration. “Well, duh! How else am I supposed to open a door, smartass?!” he snapped, letting go of the handle and kicking the door in an attempt to force it open. “WHAT THE HELL?! This door is broken!” he grumbled, kicking it again for good measure.

Prussia, however, only seemed to find it more amusing, his laughter growing louder.

That was it. Romano’s patience snapped. The idiot was laughing at him! It was almost too much to handle. “What?! What’s so funny?!” he demanded, rolling his eyes and gritting his teeth. His face was flushed with both anger and embarrassment, and he had absolutely no idea how much longer he could stand this absurd situation.

Prussia shook his head, still trying to hold back his laughter, before pointing at the door—more specifically, at a sign attached to it. Romano followed the pointing finger and his eyes fell on the sign.

‘Push.’

OH. MY. GOD.

That was it. The last straw. Romano couldn't take another second in this shop, in this country, or on this earth! How… EMBARRASSING! How did he not see that BIG sign right in front of him?! Was he blind?! He could not have felt more stupid in his entire life! And Prussia had seen him act like an absolute moron—he wasn’t a moron! Prussia was! Ahhh! How could he have missed that sign?!

Romano felt his face, already burning with embarrassment, heat up even more. His brain was almost on shutdown mode, completely overloaded from the sheer mortification. He had never been this embarrassed in his life.

He wanted the ground to swallow him whole, to just disappear! No, even worse! He wanted to be knocked unconscious, tossed into the ocean, swallowed by the waves, and then, if that wasn’t enough, thrown into a volcano to be burned into ashes—and for those ashes to burn until there was nothing left of his humiliating existence!

AHHHH!

Romano didn’t want to be anywhere anymore. He just wanted to not be. Slowly, as if moving was too much effort, he let his hands drop to his sides and sank to the ground, as if the weight of the world had crushed him. Before he knew it, he was curled up on the black tiles like a miserable ball of shame.

“WOAH—!” Prussia exclaimed, clearly startled by the sudden collapse. He let out a confused noise before asking. “What are you—what are you doing?!”

“Trying to die.” Romano muttered, his face buried in his hands. He didn’t want to see anything, hear anything, or deal with the world anymore. This was too much.

Prussia laughed awkwardly, clearly unsure of how to handle the situation. “To die? Hey now, it’s definitely not the end of the world! Yeah, sure, it was super mega un-awesome to pull on a door that said ‘push’... pfft…” he snickered again, before quickly clearing his throat and trying to get a hold of himself. “…but it’s not like people don’t do un-awesome stuff all the time!”

He tried to comfort Romano, though it was obvious his attempt was going horribly wrong. “Well, except me, of course. I’m always awesome, haha.”

That was it. Romano couldn’t even process the words before he felt his frustration spike. This was the worst comfort he had ever received in his life. Now he really, really wished he could just jump off a cliff, fall straight into the jaws of a hungry shark, and be eaten alive. Ah, what a dream that would be...

“Please go away…” Romano muttered through his hands, turning away from Prussia and facing the door, as if he could just disappear by willing it.

For a moment, it seemed like the silence had taken over. Maybe Prussia had finally gone away. Romano couldn't help but feel a tiny bit sad at the thought, but... well, that was probably a good thing, right? He could finally sulk in peace, without anyone making things worse.

Yet, without warning, Romano felt a shadow block the dim light that had been casting on him. He tensed, wondering what the hell was going on. Before he could process it, a hand lightly pressed on the back of his arm and tapped him.

So, he didn’t leave…

Romano sighed loudly, shifting just slightly on the ground, and began, “I told you to—” He was ready to reproach, but before he could finish his sentence, he felt a hand slide under his other arm. What was this—?

Before he could even finish that thought, he was suddenly scooped off the ground and onto his feet. Like a cat. Prussia literally grabbed him like a cat!

Romano snapped his head to the side, his eyes wide, and glared at the German who had so rudely interrupted his plans of demise. “What the hell are you doing?!” he demanded, feeling his face flush again, but this time from pure shock.

Prussia smirked at Romano’s reaction, clearly enjoying the Italian's discomfort. “Is it an Italian thing to get so easily embarrassed, or is it just a you thing? Little Italy is Italian too and has absolutely no sense of social awareness!” he teased, chuckling lightly and tilting his head. The way his red eyes caught the dim light made them gleam in a way that sent an odd feeling through the Italian’s chest…

Romano, stunned and embarrassed, couldn’t help but stare. He felt his face flush an even deeper shade of red, his heart pounding harder, his thoughts scattering in every direction.
For a brief moment, it almost seemed like Prussia was looking at him with the same kind of intensity. The German’s smile was warm but strange, genuine yet somehow still teasing. “So it is just a you thing!” he commented, and Romano's mind went blank. No, no, no... I can’t be feeling this...

Before he could stop himself, Romano suddenly yelled out, “AAAHHHH!” The cry was loud enough to startle Prussia, maybe even confuse him—though Romano didn’t give him a chance to process it. He pushed himself away from Prussia’s grip, stumbled over to the door, and shoved it open with force.

In a split second, he was sprinting out of the shop, running as fast as he could without looking back. The embarrassment, the confusion, the overwhelming feeling in his chest—it all came rushing at him at once, and he needed to get away from it.

Prussia blinked in confusion, standing there, staring after him. “Romano?!” he called out, but it was no use. The Italian had already vanished around the corner, out of sight.

“What—what did I even do…” Prussia muttered to himself, furrowing his brow as he shook his head. He grabbed the bag with the food he’d bought and sighed, before starting to sprint-walk after Romano, a little unsure of what had just happened, but still determined to follow.

The dark-haired man arrived at the house in record time, pounding on the doorbell like his life depended on it. When Germany opened the door, Romano didn’t even greet him—he just darted inside and raced upstairs to his room without a word.

Veneziano turned to his lover with a puzzled expression, but Germany could only shrug, equally baffled. He moved to close the door, only to be interrupted by another figure barreling toward him.

“What in the world?!” the blond exclaimed, startled, just as a bag was tossed into his face.

“Put this in the fridge!” Prussia exclaimed, giving no further explanation. He quickly scanned the hallway before turning to Italy. “Your brother went upstairs, right?”

Italy nodded hesitantly, his confusion etched across his face. Without waiting for further confirmation, Prussia bolted up the stairs, leaving the couple standing in stunned silence.

Veneziano tilted his head and looked at Germany. “So... is this the part where I ask you what’s going on?”

Germany sighed heavily. “I’m just as lost as you are.” he admitted, though he did know a little more than he let on.

Prussia strode upstairs, heading straight for the room Romano was staying in. He knocked on the door first but was met with silence. Frowning, he tried the handle, only to find it locked. Letting out an exasperated sigh, he muttered to himself. What was up with Romano constantly avoiding him? This was all he’d been doing for the past two days.

“Knock, knock!” Prussia called out, adding a sharp rap on the door for emphasis. Still no response. He sighed again, louder this time. “Romano, I know you’re in there! The door wouldn’t be locked if no one was inside!”

Silence.

He stared at the floor, tapping his foot as he mulled over his next move. Then, his eyes shifted to a drawer in the hallway—Germany’s designated stash for spare keys to every door in the house. A sly grin spread across his face.

“Fine, I’ll leave!” he called out, making a show of stomping away from the door. Instead of retreating, he quickly rifled through the drawer, found the spare key, and crept back to the locked door as quietly as he could. Pressing his ear to the wood, he listened for any movement. Nothing. Romano had probably thrown himself onto the bed.

Satisfied, Prussia slid the key into the lock, smirking as he heard the original key drop to the floor on the other side. With a quiet click, he unlocked the door and slowly pushed it open.

Romano was sprawled on his bed when he heard the soft thud of the key falling to the floor. His brow furrowed in confusion. Huh? What the... The thought barely formed before the unmistakable click of the lock turning sent a jolt of panic through him.

The door swung open, and standing there, as if summoned by his worst nightmares, was Prussia.

Romano froze for a split second before scrambling to the far corner of the bed, pointing an accusatory finger as he erupted into a tirade. “THIS IS PRIVACY INVASION! THIS IS ILLEGAL! I COULD HAVE YOU LOCKED UP FOR THIS!”

Prussia, unfazed, stepped inside the room and calmly closed the door behind him.

That only made Romano’s panic skyrocket. “WHAT KIND OF HORROR MOVIE DID YOU GET THIS FROM?! STAY BACK!” he shrieked, snatching two pillows off the bed and hurling them at Prussia. Both missed their target, flopping harmlessly to the floor.

Prussia opened his mouth to speak, but Romano cut him off, his voice reaching new levels of hysteria. “HEEEELP! HEEEEELP! VENEZIANO! FRATELLO!!!”

Prussia blinked, momentarily startled by Romano's ear-splitting cries. Good thing he’d had the sense to close the door. He didn’t need Germany or Veneziano bursting in and getting the wrong idea. Still, the Italian’s yelling was bound to attract attention if it went on much longer…

With a resigned sigh, Prussia bent down, grabbed one of the discarded pillows, and strode over to the bed. Dropping to one knee, he leaned forward and pressed the pillow over Romano’s face, hoping to muffle the noise.

Unfortunately, that only made things worse.

Romano’s muffled shouts turned into indignant, furious screams as he flailed wildly, kicking and punching at Prussia in a fit of pure anger.

“OW—HEY! Cut that out!” Prussia snapped, wincing as the Italian’s blows landed on him. He held up the pillow as a sort of shield, glaring down at Romano. “I’ll get rid of this if you promise not to scream in my ears, okay?”

Romano paused, his eyes narrowing in annoyance. Crossing his arms with a huff, he gave a reluctant nod. As much as he hated giving in, being smothered with a pillow was definitely not on his agenda for the day.

Prussia smirked victoriously and tossed the pillow aside. “See? That wasn’t so hard.”

The room fell into an uneasy quiet. Prussia relaxed slightly, but Romano sat stiffly at the edge of the bed, glaring daggers at him.

Idiota! Romano fumed inwardly, muttering curses under his breath. What kind of deranged lunatic barges into someone else’s room and smothers them with a pillow? Only this crazy bastard… that’s for sure.

“Uh, yeah, my bad about the pillow part…” Prussia started, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. “Didn’t really know what else to do since you were yelling—”

Romano cut him off with a sharp huff. “Oh, great insight there! Someone’s screaming their lungs out, and your first instinct is to suffocate them? Yeah, not creepy at all!“

Prussia sighed. He couldn’t exactly argue with Romano’s rant—it wasn’t his finest moment. “Alright, sorry. Again.” he muttered, his voice softer this time as he met the Italian’s irritated gaze.

For a moment, Prussia said nothing, his red eyes lingering on Romano’s face as if trying to make sense of him. Finally, his brows furrowed, and he asked the question that had been eating away at him. “Why do you run away from me?”

Romano froze, his mind grinding to a halt. What?Why? What kind of ridiculous question was that? And more importantly, why did Prussia even care?

His initial reaction was disbelief, followed by irritation. Why does it matter to him if I avoid him? That thought was quickly overshadowed by something deeper, something Romano didn’t want to acknowledge…

Because the truth was, every time Prussia got close, Romano felt something warm bubbling up inside him, something electric and confusing. It wasn’t bad, exactly, but it was… wrong. Not because of the feeling itself, but because of who it was directed at.

Prussia. A German.

Romano clenched his fists, his irritation shifting inward. He would be the world’s biggest hypocrite if he ever admitted he was interested in that guy, when everyone, including Prussia himself, knew how much he disliked him.

It was infuriating. Absolutely infuriating.

Prussia nudged Romano lightly, snapping him out of his spiraling thoughts. “You’re really taking your time thinking of an answer, huh?” he teased, his smirk unmistakable.

Romano let out a small sigh, narrowing his eyes as he scrambled to come up with something—anything—that wasn’t the truth. Because there was no way he was going to admit, “Yeah, so hey, I might have feelings for you. And I don’t want those feelings because they make me look like a hypocrite, and I absolutely refuse to take that kind of blow to my ego or dignity. So, avoiding you is my only way out.”

No way! Just thinking it sounded ridiculous, let alone saying it aloud. Worse, it would make him sound egotistical. (Okay, maybe he was a little egotistical—but admitting that? Never.)

So, he blurted out the first semi-convincing thing that came to mind.

“I just… I, well… I really, REALLY hate you!” he declared, his face turning slightly pink despite his effort to sound convincing. He waited for another teasing retort from Prussia, but none came. A little taken aback, he glanced at the man before him and was even more startled by the look on his face.

The German was staring at him intently—was that surprise? The thought crossed his mind, but he dismissed it. No, the way Prussia looked at him felt far more like… disappointment. Wait a moment… was Prussia really disappointed?

For a moment, the albino glanced away, his expression softening as though he wanted to say something. But he hesitated, letting out a quiet sigh as he raised a hand to scratch the back of his head.

Then, without a word, he stood up and began pacing the room. Romano watched as he walked a few steps, stopped, turned back toward him, and opened his mouth—only to close it again, as if reconsidering whatever it was he wanted to say.

He resumed pacing, his brows furrowed in thought, leaving Romano sitting there awkwardly, unsure of what to make of the strange, quiet tension building in the room…

He watched the german with a hint of concern. Maybe he should’ve come up with a better excuse, something less… harsh. But what else would’ve been convincing enough?

Shifting uncomfortably on the bed, Romano kept his gaze on the German, guilt starting to creep in. He didn’t actually think Prussia was that terrible. Sure, the guy could be loud, obnoxious, and overly confident, but he’d also done things for Romano that were undeniably kind. Nice, even…

Damn it. Maybe he should backpedal. Say he didn’t hate him, exactly. Maybe he just disliked him—well, not him entirely, just certain aspects about him. (Most of them.) Anything to stop Prussia from pacing and looking so… serious. It didn’t suit him.

With a sharp exhale, Romano finally found his words. “Look, I—”

But before he could finish, Prussia stopped in his tracks and interrupted him.

“What... what exactly is there about me that doesn’t scream ‘awesome!’?” he finally blurted, spinning around to face Romano. His expression wasn’t just disappointed, it was genuinely sad, and seeing that on his face, of all people, was jarring.

Romano’s frown deepened as he bit his tongue, the weight of his earlier words hitting him like a ton of bricks. Okay, maybe I went too far, he admitted to himself, his stomach knotting uncomfortably. Prussia wasn’t just brushing it off like he usually did with sarcastic remarks.

The German paced for a few more steps before, with a resigned sigh, he sat down on the edge of the bed, right next to Romano.

The Italian tensed, glancing at him out of the corner of his eye. Why had he said it like that? So seriously, without his usual tone of irritation that could easily be dismissed as his fiery personality? Instead, his words had come across as cold. It must have hit harder than he’d intended.

For someone who didn’t usually care about the opinions of others, it was clear that this had definitely struck a nerve in Prussia…

Romano’s heart sank. He hated this. He hated feeling like the bad guy, hated not knowing what to say to fix it. Why couldn’t he have Veneziano’s natural ease with words? Why did everything have to be so damn difficult for him?

His gaze slowly shifted to Prussia’s face, and he opened his mouth to speak, but… nothing came out. What could he even say to him now?

It was a good thing Prussia was the one who broke the silence. “Sorry, sorry. I just thought… that you were over the whole ‘I hate Prussia!’ situation… or at least that’s what I thought…” he trailed off, mumbling the last part with an air of uncertainty that Romano wasn’t used to hearing from him.

It made the Italian feel even worse. God, why had he gone and said something so harsh?

Prussia wasn’t playing around now. He wasn’t the loud, brash German Romano usually dealt with. He was calm, serious, and, if Romano were being honest, genuinely upset.

“Is it because of the incident in the coffee shop?” Prussia asked, his tone sincere. “I really didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable. Seriously! I was just trying to get food!”

Romano winced, the memory of the coffee shop incident flashing in his mind. He hadn’t meant for Prussia to feel guilty about it. He wasn’t mad about that… he was just… embarrassed. The whole thing had caught him off guard, and he’d acted out of frustration.

But hearing Prussia apologize like that… Romano felt the weight of his own words more than ever. Damn it, now he just felt like an idiot. He didn’t want to make things worse, but he also didn’t know how to make it right.

Romano glanced away, still struggling to find the right words. But it felt worse to stay silent, so he forced out what he could. “Look, I… exaggerated. I don’t really hate you that much. I do find… a lot of things you do annoying and weird, but I wouldn’t say I dislike everything you do.” The words came out awkwardly, making Romano want to kick himself, but he couldn’t take them back now. “I just get easily irritated.”

Prussia blinked in surprise. He leaned in a little, his red eyes narrowing as if trying to hear or see more clearly. Romano cursed inwardly. Damn those eyes, he thought, his face flushing. His stomach did a flip, and he was sure his ears were glowing as red as a flame. Please, don’t let him notice how much I’m blushing…

Prussia tilted his head, a serious look on his face that Romano wasn’t quite used to. “What exactly irritates you… about me, that is?” His voice was steady, his gaze so intense that it reminded Romano a little too much of Germany. It was the only time he could see a slight resemblance between the two.

After a brief pause, Romano shoved Prussia away, clearly uncomfortable with how close he was. “I—I don’t know! I don’t know!” he stammered, flustered and red-faced, though he tried to mask it with irritation.

The albino stepped back, his expression shifting to mild confusion. “You don’t know?” he asked.

Okay, yeah, that sounded pretty stupid. But Romano’s mind had been preoccupied with entirely the wrong thoughts, and he’d blurted out the first thing that came to him! Unfortunately, it turned out to be something completely ridiculous…

“Well, uh, yeah! Obviously! You’re just so… so you that I can’t even figure out why you annoy me so much!” he snapped, glancing away as if in frustration.

Silence followed, and Romano instantly regretted opening his mouth. Everything he said sounded like nonsense. But before the awkwardness could settle too deeply, Prussia spoke up again.

“Well then…” Prussia’s expression shifted, the disappointment fading from his gaze. That had to be a good thing, right? And the way he said those words… it almost felt like he was back to his usual self. Romano barely had time to process that thought before the next words made it unmistakable.

“How about you hang out with the awesome me for a change tomorrow, huh? Huh?” Prussia grinned widely, his confidence radiating. Romano’s immediate reaction was an internal absolutely not. Spending time with him wasn’t going to solve anything! Yet, he couldn’t deny that seeing him smile again brought a strange sense of relief.

“C’mon! It’ll be super fun! And it’ll definitely change your impression of me. You’ll have nothing left to hate, just you wait!” Prussia stood up, gesturing dramatically with his hands as if presenting some grand spectacle. “You’ll see… AWESOMENESS!” he declared, laughing loudly.

Romano knew this was a terrible idea. Spending a day with him could only spell trouble, especially for his own sanity. But watching Prussia laugh instead of looking at him with that awful, pitying expression... maybe it was worth the risk. Just one day, after all. Nothing more than hanging out. He could handle that.

Probably.

“Ah, what the hell,” Romano muttered, rolling his eyes. “I’ll go with you, just to get you off my back already!” His tone was sharp, but deep down, he couldn’t help but feel a small flicker of happiness at Prussia’s excitement—though he’d rather die than admit it, even to himself.

Prussia beamed, his grin as smug as ever. “Awh, of course you couldn’t turn down such an opportunity! Spending a day with the awesome Prussia is a huge deal!” he teased. Then, without warning, he stepped closer to Romano, catching the Italian completely off guard.

Before Romano could react, Prussia reached out and gently patted his head. The smile he gave wasn’t his usual mischievous smirk… it was warm and genuine. Romano’s heart skipped a beat, and his thoughts instantly spiraled into chaos.

“When you’re done sulking in here, come downstairs and eat!” Prussia said with a chuckle, stepping back and heading for the door. “Before your brother eats everything I got for you all by himself!” He laughed again as he opened the door.

With a casual wave, he slipped out, shutting the door behind him and leaving Romano standing there, his heart racing and his thoughts spinning.

Romano stayed frozen for a moment before collapsing back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling as his mind raced in every direction. No matter how hard he tried to make sense of it, one thought kept resurfacing: Was he really going to spend the day with Prussia tomorrow? Just the two of them? The very idea made his face grow hot. What had he gotten himself into this time? Damn his stupid empathy for letting this happen!

With a sigh, he finally sat up, forcing himself to push aside his jumbled thoughts. Rising from the bed, Romano straightened his clothes, trying to compose himself before heading toward the door. He opened it and hesitated for a moment, exhaling again. This was only his second day here, and already things had gone completely off track…

“Third time’s the charm…” he muttered under his breath, hoping the saying would hold some truth. Tomorrow had to go better. Right?

Shoving the thought aside for now, Romano made his way downstairs, his footsteps echoing softly in the quiet hallway. Entering the kitchen, he prepared himself to join the others for dinner.

Chapter Text

The next day, Romano was still reeling from the sleepless night he'd spent fretting over the fact that he'd agreed to hang out with Prussia alone. He knew they'd be by themselves because his brother, over dinner the evening prior, had excitedly announced that he and his boyfriend were heading to the Bavarian National Museum to admire, in his words, "pretty art and cool sculptures."

It was one of the largest museums in Europe, meaning their visit would take more than just a few hours. But that wasn’t even the main issue. The real problem was that the museum was in Munich, while they were staying in the capital. Between the long journey there, the museum visit, and the return trip, it would take two full days. Two. Whole. Days.

In short, his worries about spending a few hours alone with Prussia suddenly seemed laughable. This was a much bigger problem. Two entire days! Alone with that guy! How did he keep ending up in these situations?

Romano had tried to convince his brother to reconsider the trip, but Veneziano’s only response was an enthusiastic suggestion that Romano join them for a “fun field trip.” Romano had no desire to be crammed into a car for hours with his brother, Germany, and probably Prussia too—because of course, Veneziano would have invited him along to make it a “fun group outing.” Gosh, his positivity was almost terrifying.

In any case, Veneziano and his lover left early in the morning, right after breakfast, giving Romano just enough time to see his little brother off. And then, the moment he’d been dreading finally arrived. He was alone in the house with the one person who made him feel so... strange. God, could this day give him a bigger headache?

The morning started off awkwardly, with neither of them knowing what to do. To break the silence, and because he couldn’t think of anything better, Romano told Prussia he was going to take a shower. He ended up staying in there far too long, overthinking everything, as usual.

When he finally came out, Prussia suggested they go out for a while, even though it was still fairly early (just past 11 a.m.), since sitting around the house was painfully dull. Romano, reluctantly agreeing that he was right, decided to get ready and go along with the plan.

He fully expected Prussia to show up dressed as horribly as he had the day before—and, honestly, the day before that too. But to his genuine surprise, the man had actually dressed like a normal human being. A regular jacket, unripped jeans, and even a scarf this time! And his shoes—white, thank God—were a massive improvement over those hideous red ones.

Still, the Italian couldn’t help but notice one glaring issue: no gloves. That small oversight was just so irritating.

“Are you seriously still not going to wear gloves?” the brunet sighed, slipping on his own shoes and shooting Prussia a sideways glance.

Prussia’s expression was hard to read—almost embarrassed, but not quite. Or maybe? Romano couldn’t tell with him. “Ah… well,” Prussia began, before saying the cheesiest thing Romano had ever heard. Even for someone who clearly had a thing for him, it was more awkward and cringy than charming.

“I thought you’d warm my hands up for me!” Prussia added with a pair of finger guns, as if that somehow made it better.

Romano finished tying his shoes and stood up, giving Prussia a look that screamed awkward secondhand embarrassment. “You’re wearing gloves.” he said flatly, before grabbing his scarf and gloves, leaving Prussia standing there, visibly deflated.

“Hm, worth a shot.” the German muttered under his breath, managing a small smile. He wandered off and swiped a pair of gloves that were clearly Germany’s. At this point, it didn’t matter whose they were. Gloves were gloves.

The two stepped out of the house, with Prussia locking the door behind them. He quickly urged Romano to stick close, claiming it was so he wouldn’t get lost or something. Romano had no idea where Prussia even got the idea that he could get lost so easily, but he let it slide. It was far too chilly outside to waste energy arguing.

They wandered through the city center for a while, stopping to admire some of the attractions. The buildings weren’t too bad—some had rather impressive architecture. Prussia took it upon himself to explain their significance, occasionally slipping in stories about his battles and how he’d fought on those very lands long before the buildings even existed.

It was clear the guy was full of himself, and yet, for some reason, Romano found himself quietly laughing. There was something unexpectedly nice about hearing him talk so passionately about his past…

An hour or two passed quicker than the Italian expected, but by then, the cold was starting to creep in. His gloves felt useless, and his face was practically frozen. He desperately wanted to step inside somewhere warm, but Prussia, walking beside him, still seemed as lively as ever.

There wasn’t even a hint of discomfort on him—his breath puffed visibly in the cold air with every word he spoke, while Romano’s throat felt chilled to the bone. He shivered slightly but didn’t want to admit how cold he was. If he did, Prussia would definitely make some smug comment about how he managed to freeze even while dressed like he was braving the Arctic.

The thought, however, didn’t linger long.

Prussia, mid-story about some old fight with Austria, suddenly paused and turned to face him. Romano noticed the silence, feeling the albino’s gaze settle on him. He flinched internally at how abruptly Prussia stepped closer, but he managed to keep his composure—probably because he was too frozen to overreact.

The German studied him for a moment before a small chuckle escaped his lips, the kind that came with realizing something amusing. “Are you cold?” he asked, still laughing softly.

Romano blinked as though Prussia had just insulted him, then rolled his eyes and straightened his posture—despite the movement making him feel even colder. “As if…” he muttered, trying to sound confident, though the slight tremor in his voice betrayed him.

Prussia watched him for a moment longer, and Romano braced himself for the inevitable teasing. But instead, the albino tilted his head, glanced around, and then looked back at him. “Well, either way, I’m starving. How about we head inside somewhere, hm?”

Romano blinked again, caught off guard. He’d been expecting smug remarks or a poke at his endurance, but none came. Still, he quickly composed himself. “Starving?” he repeated, pulling out his phone to check the time. He looked up with a raised eyebrow. “It’s not even 1 p.m. yet!”

Prussia shrugged nonchalantly. “So? I’m dying to eat something…” He dragged out the last word dramatically, miming a headache for added effect.

Romano frowned, opening his mouth to argue. “It’s too early to have—” His protest was cut short by a sudden gust of icy wind that froze him to the core. His entire body stiffened, and he reconsidered. “…Actually, I guess an early lunch wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.” He tried to sound indifferent, but his stiff posture and tightly crossed arms made his true intentions painfully obvious.

Prussia smirked knowingly. “I know a great spot! Can’t promise you’ll love it, but it’s good—trust me.” Without waiting for a reply, he began guiding Romano toward a small, cozy restaurant tucked away from the busier streets.

It wasn’t a touristy place, just a quiet spot where locals ate. A good sign when it came to food.

The restaurant wasn’t very big and had a rustic, traditional look with its crisscrossed wooden beams and small windows, each decorated with flower pots on the ledges. It didn’t exactly scream "restaurant" to Romano, but it wasn’t hideous either. And, more importantly, it was warm inside. So, it would do.

They stepped inside, and Prussia exchanged a few words in German with some of the workers. Before long, they were seated at a table by the window, a spot slightly more private than those in the center of the room.

Romano immediately felt better, as though a layer of ice had melted off him, letting warmth creep back into his body. At first, he only removed his gloves and scarf, leaving his coat on to help him warm up faster. However, after a few minutes, it became uncomfortably hot, and he decided to take it off.

It was good timing, as just then, a cheerful waiter approached, handed them menus, and said something in German that Romano couldn’t understand before leaving them to decide on their orders.

The brunet flipped open one of the menus, already irritated by the fact that the food and beverages were listed together. But that wasn’t his biggest issue. As he scanned the options, it quickly became clear that there wasn’t a single dish he’d willingly eat. Everything seemed to revolve around meat, potatoes, cabbage, or some combination of the three—exactly the kind of food he couldn’t stand.

And the beverages? Almost entirely beer. Not exactly his idea of a good drink.

He spent a few more minutes frowning over the menu, reading through the ingredients of nearly every dish and sighing in frustration. Why would he ever be interested in food so far removed from what he was used to?

Prussia might have picked up on Romano’s complete lack of enthusiasm for the menu—or maybe he just found it amusing. Either way, he set his own menu down, resting his head in one hand as he watched Romano try (and fail) to hide his obvious disappointment. The scowl on his face made it painfully obvious.

“Hah, can’t find a single thing you’re willing to eat?” the albino teased with a small laugh.

Romano sighed, setting his menu down to glare at him, but quickly picked it back up when he noticed how intently the German was staring. There was no way he could risk his face turning red in a public place, especially when he couldn’t blame it on the cold or some other excuse…

“I don’t like potatoes, and I’m not a fan of how this…” Romano pointed at a dish on the menu, his disdain evident. “… meat is prepared. Do you people honestly think drowning it in sauce gets rid of the meat’s smell?”

Prussia tilted his head, clearly baffled. “The meat’s smell?” he repeated, as though the concept itself was foreign to him. “What do you mean?” he started to ask, but then paused, shifting to what he clearly thought was a more pressing question. “Isn’t meat supposed to smell like… well, meat?”

It was only then that Romano realized who he was complaining to—a former nation with absolutely no understanding of cooking whatsoever.

The Italian exhaled softly. “The meat will still smell like meat.” he clarified. “What I meant is that you won’t notice the… hmm, how do I put this in simpler words…” He paused, tapping the table lightly as he searched for the right phrase. “You won’t notice the smell of the dead animal anymore.”

Prussia blinked, clearly taken aback. “The smell of the… dead animal?” he repeated, his expression one of genuine surprise. Romano already knew this conversation wasn’t going to lead anywhere useful, but he still felt compelled to explain.

“Any kind of meat has a particular smell after it’s cooked,” he began, trying to stay patient. “And it’s hard to eat something when it smells like it just died. In Italy, and in France, we deal with this by marinating the meat for 24 to 48 hours, or even longer if possible. Alternatively, we prepare it with alcohol, usually white wine. At high temperatures, the alcohol evaporates, leaving the meat easy to cut, and subtly infused with the aroma of the grapes used in the wine.”

He explained with as much detail as he could, knowing that without it, Prussia wouldn’t have the faintest idea what he was talking about.

The albino stared at him the entire time, as though genuinely impressed by his knowledge and the way he explained it. That attention almost made Romano feel like his chest was about to act up again. Prussia seemed far too invested in something he clearly didn’t fully understand. Yet, seeing how attentive he was… it made Romano feel those very same feelings he was desperately trying to avoid. Ah, what a mess this was turning into…

“A-anyway,” he stammered, his voice slightly shaky as a faint flush crept onto his cheeks. “it’s not like there’s anything on this menu that’s remotely close to that, so…” He trailed off, hoping to change the subject.

But just then, Prussia glanced back down at the menu, scanning it intently. After a moment, he perked up and jabbed a finger at one of the dishes.

“Sauerbraten! (Marinated Beef Roast!)” he exclaimed enthusiastically.

Romano tilted his head, thoroughly confused. “Uh-huh… and that means…?”

“Oh, right.” Prussia gave a sheepish laugh, clearly having forgotten that Romano didn’t understand German. “It’s like beef that’s marinated for, uh, a long time… I think, and then slow-cooked with… certain spices. Haha, not too sure which ones, though. It’s kinda tangy, but it sounds close to something you’d eat, right? Since it’s marinated?”

He offered a small, encouraging smile, as if trying to convince Romano to give it a shot.

The other nation eyed the menu skeptically, searching for the English translation of the dish Prussia had mentioned. When he finally found it, he read the small description carefully, giving it a moment of thought. Past experiences told him he didn’t like German food, but marinated meat, 3 to 5 days, as the description said, couldn’t possibly taste bad. You’d have to be completely incompetent to mess that up…

He looked up from the menu to find Prussia still smiling at him. Romano furrowed his brows slightly. Why was he so easily persuaded by that stupid face? Damn his racing chest.

With a resigned sigh, he muttered. “I already know I’ll hate it, but there’s nothing else here I can tolerate, so... ugh, fine. I’ll try the… sour... or whatever it’s called.” He stumbled over the name, unable to pronounce it properly.

The German seemed subtly amused, or perhaps charmed, by Romano’s attempt, his gaze lingering a moment longer than necessary as a faint flush crept across his cheeks. Romano, oblivious, had already turned his head away.

After a brief pause, Prussia shook his head and chuckled. “Sauerbraten.” he said, repeating the name with a smirk.

Romano turned back with a defeated huff. “Yeah… that.”

After a while, the waiter arrived to take their orders. Prussia requested a beer, while Romano chose mulled wine. Since Romano didn’t speak German, Prussia took charge of the ordering. Romano caught the name of his dish when the other pronounced it amid the stream of German words, then listened as Prussia added his own order. Once he was done, the waiter departed, leaving them alone.

They sat in silence for a moment as Romano checked his buzzing phone. Veneziano had sent him a string of messages, complete with pictures of every place he'd passed before reaching Munich—photos of a gas station, a few roads, and an overwhelming number of plants. At the end, there was a cheerful message:

"Ciao fratello! Come stai? Cosa fai? Andate d'accordo con la Prussia o voi due litigate?"
(Hi brother! How are you? What are you doing? Are you getting along with Prussia or are you two fighting?)

It was followed by another message packed with emojis and hearts. Romano’s lips curved into a faint smile. His brother always made a point to keep him updated on his travels, even if it was just trivial details. Romano, however, wasn’t the type to return the favor…

Well, maybe not usually. He glanced at the text again, then shifted his gaze toward Prussia, who was busy fussing with his jacket draped over the back of his chair. Romano hesitated, then quietly lifted his phone, angling it just enough to snap a discreet photo of the table in front of him (and of Prussia). Without overthinking, he quickly sent the picture to his brother with a short message:

"Stiamo mangiando." (We’re eating.)

He set his phone down and glanced back at the German, who was still fiddling with his jacket. Now that he thought about it... this setting, this place, what they were doing… it almost felt like a... date.

Romano immediately smacked his forehead and shook his head. No, no! Bad thoughts! He had to stop thinking like that! It wouldn’t lead anywhere good.

As he struggled to steady his thoughts, the albino, finally done with his jacket, turned back to him and spoke.

“You know, your brother always visits West,” he began, his tone softer than usual. “And you always come along. Is there a… particular reason you do? You don’t seem to care much for Germany, or me, so why is it you always tag along with little Italy?” His gaze lingered on Romano, as if waiting for a specific answer.

Romano met his eyes, unflinching. Why did he always come to Germany? It was such a simple question, one he didn’t need to think hard about. “Veneziano’s not the brightest,” he said matter-of-factly. “I don’t want to deal with his whining and crying if he gets into trouble, so I keep an eye on him. Besides, he always asks me to come. That’s all there is to it.”

For a moment, the albino looked genuinely caught off guard, almost uneasy. Romano wasn’t sure he’d ever seen him like that before. “Uh, just that? Haha… really?” Prussia asked, a faint tension creeping into his voice, as if he’d been expecting a deeper answer. “No… other reason?”

Romano narrowed his eyes slightly. Why did this feel more like an interrogation than small talk? He’d told Prussia the truth. What else was there to say? Letting out a dry laugh, he tried to brush it off. “I don’t like this country. I can tolerate Germany, but I’m not sure how he feels about me. And you—” he jabbed a finger in Prussia’s direction “—you don’t like me, and I don’t like you.” He shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “So what other reason could there possibly be?”

Prussia’s expression faltered, his usual smirk slipping into something more subdued. His gaze dropped, and for the briefest moment, he seemed almost… melancholic. Romano tilted his head, puzzled by the sudden shift. What was his problem?

Before he could think to ask, or risk saying something stupid, the waiter returned with their food and drinks, breaking the tension like a snapped thread.

After that, the German seemed to shake off whatever had been bothering him and slipped back into his usual cheerful, talkative self—though, oddly enough, he was... nicer. He’d already been acting kinder than usual, but now it was almost unsettling how overly nice he was. Why? Romano couldn’t figure it out. Was it intentional? Or had he just run out of smug remarks for once? It was strange—disturbing, even. Maybe it felt off because Romano wasn’t used to having calm, easy conversations with him. Or maybe… he kind of missed the cocky tone, the overconfidence, and those smug remarks he claimed to hate.

Well, whatever.

Eventually, they started eating, and to Romano’s surprise, the food wasn’t half bad. Not that he’d admit it out loud, of course. His dish was good, at least, though he still didn’t trust whatever Prussia had ordered. No matter how much the German insisted he try it, that cabbage just didn’t look appealing. The one thing he did try were the potato dumplings on Prussia’s plate. They weren’t anything special, like gnocchi without the filling or sauce, but they were passable.

The mulled wine, though? That was genuinely enjoyable. It warmed him from the inside out, with just the right touch of sweetness. Honestly, the whole outing wasn’t nearly as terrible as he’d expected. And, somehow, having that ridiculous, smug idiot sitting across from him made it... better.

Not that he’d ever admit that, either.

After they finished eating and the waiter returned with the bill, Romano reached for his wallet, ready to pay his share. But Prussia waved him off, insisting it was his treat since Romano was visiting. The Italian shrugged, not bothering to argue. A free meal was a free meal, after all.

Once the payment was complete, they bundled back up in their coats, scarves, and gloves. Prussia gave a casual wave and a cheerful German goodbye to the workers before they headed out. By the time they made it back to the house, late afternoon had already faded into evening.

That’s when things started to get... unsettling, or at least, for Romano. Prussia kept doing things that made him feel downright uneasy. He offered to take his coat, said he’d handle tidying up, and acted way too polite. It was starting to seriously freak Romano out! He’d never seen Prussia like this before…

Needing a moment to himself, the shorter nation excused himself to his room and changed into something more comfortable. When he returned downstairs and wandered into the living area, Prussia was sprawled across the couch, grinning. He waved at Romano and patted the empty cushion beside him, silently inviting him to sit.

Romano let out a heavy sigh. Another movie? Just great. The last time had been awkward enough to make his skin crawl. Still, he sat down stiffly, keeping his eyes locked on the screen and doing his best to avoid even glancing at the German.

But staying quiet wasn’t an option for long. Prussia’s overly nice behavior was escalating. He kept asking if Romano was cold and offering to grab him a blanket, or suggesting water if he might be thirsty. Romano’s unease crept higher with every absurdly considerate gesture. What was he playing at?

It didn’t just feel strange… it felt wrong. Romano couldn’t stop his thoughts from drifting to those horror movies where someone gets possessed by a demon. They act weirdly nice at first, different in just the right way to make you uneasy, and nobody realizes the danger until it’s too late. That’s exactly how this felt.

Eventually, Romano couldn’t take it anymore. He needed answers. Now.

“Stop, stop, stop!” he exclaimed suddenly, throwing up his hands.

The albino turned to him, confusion written all over his face. “What?”

“Pause the damn movie for a second!” Romano demanded sharply.

Of course, Prussia complied—because why wouldn’t he?! He grabbed the remote and paused the screen, still giving Romano that puzzled look.

The Italian let out a long exhale, running a hand through his hair as he tried to gather his thoughts. “What’s wrong with you? What’s got you acting so creepily considerate all of a sudden? At first, I didn’t mind… because, sure, no more unnecessary headaches… but now you’re like… like Saint Teresa, for God’s sake!” His greenish-brown eyes narrowed as he leveled a stern glare at the German.

Prussia blinked at him, clearly baffled. “Uh…” was all he managed.

But Romano wasn’t letting up. “You’re freaking me the hell out!” he snapped, waving his hands in frustration.

For a moment, silence stretched between them. Prussia kept staring at him, and Romano felt a familiar unease creep in, like he was about to get smothered with a pillow again (war flashbacks)…

Then, Prussia’s gaze shifted to the paused movie screen. He let out a sigh, raised a hand to his face, and dragged it down in exhaustion, his second sigh far heavier than the first.

Romano watched, unsure of what to make of the strange display, until Prussia finally muttered under his breath. “You’re impossible to please.”

Huh?

The Italian’s eyes widened slightly before narrowing into a sharp glare as he turned toward the German.

“Huh?! What the hell is that supposed to mean, you bastard?!” he snapped, his brows furrowing to emphasize his indignation. That comment hit a nerve. Who just says something like that out of the blue? (Not that it wasn’t true or anything... but still! You don’t just go around saying that to someone’s face!)

Prussia gave him a sideways glance, then shifted fully toward him, draping an arm over the back cushion and propping his head on his hand. For a fleeting second, Romano’s mind betrayed him with a completely unhelpful thought: What a sight… He quickly shook it off—this was no time to get distracted, not when he was furious with the guy!

The albino studied him with an unreadable expression before speaking. “You clearly didn’t like the way I was, so I tried to act… nice.” He let out a dry chuckle, though there wasn’t a shred of humor in it. “You hate me when I’m awesome, and you hate me when I’m… well, not.” He gestured vaguely, as if referring to his earlier behavior. “Are you sure you don’t hold some personal grudge against me, haha?” His laugh was soft, hollow, and oddly bitter.

Romano’s glare faltered, confusion replacing anger. “What?” he asked, the word coming out more uncertain than he wanted.

Prussia shifted closer, his crimson gaze sharp but hesitant. “Yesterday, you said I’m too much like… well, me, and that it annoys you.” He sighed, the frustration clear in his voice. “So I tried acting the opposite, but that seems to annoy you too.” He hesitated, his words heavy with something Romano couldn’t quite place. “Romano… I don’t want you to be so irritated by me. I don’t want you to hate me. And…” He glanced down, his voice dropping lower. “I don’t want you to think I hate you either.”

The Italian blinked at him, wide-eyed, as if he’d just spoken complete nonsense. But before he could say anything, Prussia pressed on.

“At the restaurant, you said it was obvious we dislike each other. But that’s not true.” His voice grew firmer, more insistent, as if willing Romano to believe him. “I don’t dislike you. In fact, I—” He stopped mid-sentence, the words catching in his throat.

A moment passed. Then another.

Prussia continued to stare at Romano, his red eyes gleaming like rubies. He cleared his throat, as though shaking off the weight of the moment, only to be replaced by a more nervous, awkward air. His gaze darted to the side, the TV’s flickering light casting an almost uncanny glow across his pale face. The room was dim, but Romano could have sworn he saw a faint flush creep across Prussia’s cheeks… though, it could’ve just been the colors from the screen playing tricks on him…

The German let out a long, weary sigh, his lips curling into that same depressing smile Romano had already seen too many times. “It doesn’t matter right now. I’ll tell you tomorrow.” With that, he turned back to the TV, leaving Romano staring at him, baffled.

What the hell did that mean?!

Why tomorrow? Why not now? Was there some specific mood or setting Prussia needed for whatever he wanted to say? Romano couldn’t see what made this quiet evening any less suitable. Was it something huge? Something that required time to explain? Or worse, something bad?

Romano’s thoughts circled like a trapped bird, going nowhere. He tried to piece it together, replaying the German’s earlier words: “I don’t dislike you! In fact, I—” And then… nothing.

Okay, so Prussia didn’t dislike him… that much was clear. Romano had already figured that out from their recent encounters. But what did “In fact” mean? Did he see Romano as a friend? Someone he respected? Or… was it something else entirely?

The ambiguity gnawed at him. Romano hated being left in suspense, hated cliffhangers and unanswered questions. His patience was paper-thin at the best of times, and this was pushing it to the limit.

He shifted restlessly on the couch, telling himself to let it go, to wait until tomorrow. But it was no use. The unanswered question clawed at his thoughts, insistent and unrelenting.

He had to know.

With another restless shift, Romano turned to Prussia, his wide-eyed stare resembling an owl. “You don’t have to wait until tomorrow! Just tell me now, since we’re already talking about it!” he demanded, his impatience practically radiating off him. It was obvious he was itching to know what Prussia had meant but decided to delay.

The white-haired former nation glanced at him with a slight turn of his head and chuckled softly. “I said I’ll tell you tomorrow. Just wait a bit!” he replied, flashing an amused smile. That easy grin, clearly entertained by how impatient Romano was, only made Romano’s irritation grow.

“But why not tell me now, huh?!” the Italian exclaimed, grabbing Prussia’s arm without thinking and tugging it back and forth like a child begging for candy. “Tell me! Come onnnnn! I hate cliffhangers!” His voice grew louder with each word, and the exaggerated tugging finally made Prussia laugh outright.

Romano scowled. “Stop laughing and just tell me already!”

Prussia, still chuckling, leaned back slightly, his red eyes turning to the Italian. “Wow, I didn’t know you wanted to hear what I have to say that badly!” he teased, his smirk widening. It was the same kind of smirk he wore before pulling some ridiculous stunt, the kind that always left Romano feeling on edge.

Romano noticed the shift immediately. Thankfully, the overly nice act was gone, but that didn’t make him any less annoyed. “Ugh, fine, you… maledetto stupido idiota! (you damn stupid idiot!)” he snapped, crossing his arms and giving Prussia’s shoulder a firm nudge in protest. He muttered something else under his breath, probably in Italian, but it was too low to make out.

The former nation had unpaused the movie, and a few scenes played out on the screen. The brunet stood still for a moment, his irritation simmering as he mulled things over. Then, an idea came to him… a small, mischievous plan (hehehe)… This guy didn’t want Romano to hate him, right? Well, that was something Romano could use to his advantage..! Maybe then he’d finally get Prussia to spill whatever he was holding back…

Awkwardly and subtly (well, at least attempting to be), Romano shuffled closer to the albino. He took a deep breath and, with movements so stiff they barely passed as natural, leaned just slightly against Prussia.

Immediately, Prussia turned his head toward him, and Romano could feel the heat of his gaze. Perfect. That meant his plan was working! Though Romano couldn’t see Prussia’s expression, he hoped it had something to do with surprise or happiness…

(For the record, it was awe. Romano wasn’t one to openly express his emotions, so even a small gesture like this could signal to Prussia that he didn’t truly hate him. Prussia’s wide red eyes softened, and if anyone else had been watching, they might’ve imagined sparkles surrounding him. But as much as that might be true, the German also recognized that the southern Italian knew how to get his way. It didn’t take long for him to figure out that Romano had done this to coax him into spilling whatever he planned to say tomorrow, right now. That was amusing, considering Prussia wasn’t about to fall for it. He had a younger brother, after all. When they were kids, even if no one believed Germany ever acted like that, the little German would pull suspiciously ‘cute’ stunts, like hugging Prussia out of the blue or giving him a pitiful, wide-eyed stare before asking for something. Back then, Prussia used to fall for it. But after so many incidents, he’d learned better. Still, Romano’s little gesture now couldn’t stop the smile tugging at his lips. He was just… too cute.)

The moment dragged on, and Romano grew increasingly self-conscious. Why hasn’t he said anything yet?! he thought, stiff with discomfort.

Then, the German’s snicker broke the silence.

“Uh?” Romano tilted his head, startled, and looked at Prussia, who was now laughing in his usual carefree way.

He flashed him a smug grin, barely containing his amusement. “Pfft, I’m still telling you tomorrow.” he managed between chuckles.

Romano’s face burned with embarrassment, and he immediately pushed away from Prussia, turning his back to him (How the hell did he figure out his plan?!). “Whatever, bastard! It’s probably nothing important anyway, and you’re just wasting my time!” he snapped, flustered, before curling up at the edge of the couch like an angry cat.

Prussia, still laughing, watched him fondly, the awe-struck expression lingering on his face. “Mhm, well, you’ll see.” he said with a soft chuckle.

The Italian scoffed and gave him a light kick with his foot, grumbling under his breath before finally turning his attention back to the movie. Not that it mattered. He’d missed half the plot already, too distracted to keep track of anything on the screen.

Eventually, the exhaustion of the day caught up with him, and he dozed off, curled up on the couch like that. Prussia, who rarely fell asleep during films, surprised himself by nodding off too. Maybe it was the long day spent walking through the capital. Maybe it was the cozy quiet of the moment. Or maybe he just felt at ease.

Whatever the reason, the room grew still. The only sound was the faint hum of the movie’s end credits, followed by the muffled strains of its final song.

Chapter Text

Romano had slept soundly through the night, as he usually did, but today he’d overslept far more than usual. The sun was already high, flooding the living room with light, and even with his eyes closed, he could see the reddish glow seeping through his lids. It was irritating. He still wanted to sleep. With a groggy sigh, he decided to shift onto his side, turning away from the sunlight in hopes of stealing a bit more rest.

He moved his arms first, preparing to roll over, but when he tried to turn his body, he couldn’t. Or rather, he could move, but something heavy was pressing down on his lower abdomen. It wasn’t just heavy… it was shifting slightly too. What on earth was sitting on him?

Romano reluctantly opened his eyes, still yearning to stay curled up in lazy half-sleep. But as his gaze shifted to the source of the weight pressing on his stomach and legs, his eyes widened in disbelief. The heavy "something" was... PRUSSIA?!

A faint blush crept across his face, though he didn’t have the energy to fully panic, still muzzy from waking up. Even so… seriously?! Prussia was sprawled on top of him, fast asleep, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. One of his arms was tucked beneath Romano’s back, holding him like some sort of makeshift pillow, while the other dangled lazily off the edge of the couch, swaying ever so slightly with each unconscious twitch.

Romano stared at Prussia for a few moments longer before attempting to push himself upright, hoping to get his head off the edge of the couch. The moment he moved, though, a sudden wave of dizziness washed over him, forcing him to slump back down with a groan. The sensation was awful! His head spun, his stomach churned, and for a moment, he thought he might throw up.

What the hell was wrong with him? He didn’t feel sick… there were no other symptoms, no aches. Still, this dizzy, nauseating feeling wasn’t something he could ignore. With a frustrated sigh, he raised a hand to his forehead, half-expecting to feel warmth. Instead, his skin was cool. No fever. So, if he wasn’t sick, what was going on?

His mind fumbled through the fog of fatigue and discomfort, searching for an answer. Then it hit him like a slap to the face. Hunger. A deep, gnawing emptiness clawed at his stomach, making itself impossible to ignore now. Of course! He was starving.

Now that he thought about it, he hadn’t eaten since yesterday afternoon. He and Prussia had skipped dinner entirely after falling asleep during that stupid movie. Romano turned his head toward the clock on the wall, squinting at the time. 11 a.m. His stomach sank even further. Over 18 hours without food? No wonder he felt so weak and sick.

Skipping breakfast wasn’t unusual for him. He’d never had much of an appetite in the mornings. A coffee and a small treat were usually enough to tide him over until lunch. But that only worked because he always ate a proper Italian dinner the night before! Starters, a main dish, a second dish, and so on. Missing that was clearly a mistake. Now, the consequences were hitting him hard…

For the first time in his life, Romano craved not just coffee but a full-on, indulgent breakfast. He hated admitting it, even to himself, but right now, he'd take one of those ridiculously lavish spreads from the movies, with anything and everything piled high. Just this once.

With a heavy sigh, he ran a hand over his face, trying to collect himself. After a few moments, he glanced down at the man sprawled across his legs. Prussia hadn’t stirred an inch, his messy white hair falling in disarray over his face, one longer bang partially covering an eye. He looked so peaceful, almost calm… a rare sight.

Romano couldn’t help but stare. The rise and fall of Prussia’s chest with each quiet breath was oddly mesmerizing. Without thinking, he tilted his head, his fingers hesitantly brushing against a few strands of that messy white hair. They were softer than he expected, despite being tangled.

Huh, he thought absently, running his hand through the strands. His hair’s such a mess. Almost unconsciously, he began working his fingers through the tangles, carefully smoothing them out. It wasn’t until the German let out a deep breath and a small groan, shifting against him, that Romano froze.

Prussia adjusted, one hand slipping further under Romano as if trying to secure a better hold on his "pillow." The sudden movement startled him so badly that he snatched his hand away, his heart racing. His face burned as he stared at his own hand, now traitorously guilty of playing with Prussia’s hair.

What the hell was he doing?!

Romano slapped his forehead a few times in a futile attempt to knock some sense into himself before letting out a sharp sigh. His gaze drifted back to Prussia despite himself. Why is your face so annoyingly good-looking? the thought crossed his mind before he could stop it.

Shaking his head furiously, he placed his hands on Prussia’s shoulders and pushed, trying to shove the former nation off of him. He was starving, light-headed, and dangerously close to passing out if he didn’t eat something now. Coffee, bread, fruit—hell, even a dry cracker would do at this point!

But Prussia didn’t budge. His grip was like iron, pinning Romano down with no sign of letting go. The Italian groaned in frustration, mouthing his displeasure silently. As much as he might’ve been fawning over how close they were just a moment ago, his stomach had far more pressing concerns.

“Damn it… bastard!” he muttered under his breath. “I’m starving, and I need coffee! You can’t just treat me like your personal pillow..!”

Still, Prussia remained blissfully asleep, holding on as if his life depended on it.

Trying again, Romano shifted his focus to the hand clutching his shirt. He grabbed it and tried to pry it off, but the more he pulled, the tighter Prussia's grip became. What was this? One of those animal traps where struggling only made it worse? He sighed in frustration, letting go of Prussia’s arm before resorting to something more drastic. He placed both hands on the German’s face and pushed, attempting to shove him in the opposite direction.

Romano had no intention of waking him up, but being pinned under him wasn’t an option either. Damn… under him? The thought alone made his face flush. He shook it off and kept pushing at Prussia’s face, but the albino only responded with a groggy groan. Waving the brunet’s hands away with his free arm, Prussia shifted again, this time wrapping both arms securely around Romano like he was some kind of oversized pillow.

Romano froze.

Prussia’s head now rested against his abdomen, and his grip tightened, fingers pressing into the small of the Italian’s back. His breath was warm, even through the fabric of Romano’s clothes, and Romano could feel the gentle rise and fall of Prussia’s chest against him. His pulse quickened, and that unwelcome sensation returned to his stomach… fluttering, like fireflies buzzing inside him.

“Uhm…” Romano muttered under his breath. The proximity was unbearable. Too close. Too much. He couldn’t even think straight. Literally.

Against his better judgment, his hand drifted to Prussia’s hair again, brushing through the messy strands with a softness he didn’t fully understand. It was tangled, sure, but softer than he’d expected. His fingers lingered, and before he realized it, a faint smile crossed his face.

But then reality snapped back into focus. He cleared his throat and furrowed his brows.

“Get… OFF OF ME!” he shouted, his voice echoing through the room as he tried to shove Prussia off with all his might.

The yell startled Prussia awake, or halfway, at least. The albino groaned, lifting himself slightly with one hand, squinting blearily at the world like the sunlight had personally offended him. His breaths were shallow, his movements sluggish, and just as Romano thought he was making progress, Prussia collapsed again, this time flopping entirely onto the shorter nation’s chest with his arms falling limply to his sides.

The brunet let out an exasperated scowl, wiggling himself free now that Prussia had finally released him. He swung his legs over the side of the couch, panting as he sat on the edge, before standing up. Prussia, meanwhile, rolled onto his back, completely unbothered by the fact that he’d just been tossed off his "pillow."

Romano stared at him, dumbfounded. How had this guy ever been to war? It was already 11 a.m., and he was still passed out like it was dawn.

Jumping off the couch, the Italian nearly collapsed as a wave of light-headedness hit him, but he caught himself just in time. His vision swam, and his steps were unsteady as he stumbled toward the bathroom downstairs. Halfway there, he groaned, realizing his toothbrush and other essentials were upstairs. Great. That meant he’d have to climb a flight of stairs in his current state.

Muttering curses under his breath, he trudged up, clutching the railing as his head spun with every step. Somehow, he made it to the upstairs bathroom without face-planting and quickly cleaned himself up. With his balance still shaky, the descent back down was just as precarious. By the time he reached the living room again, he was winded and annoyed, his gaze immediately falling on the still-sleeping figure sprawled on the couch.

Fifteen minutes had passed, and Prussia hadn’t moved an inch.

Romano shook his head, half in disbelief, half in disapproval. “How is this guy still asleep?” he muttered before turning toward the kitchen area, which opened up into the living room.

His stomach growled loudly as he opened the fridge, scanning its contents. Two-day-old Italian pastries sat on one of the shelves, and though Romano hated the idea of eating anything less than fresh, he wasn’t in a position to be picky. If he didn’t eat something now, he was going to pass out.

Grabbing a cannoli, he bit into it without hesitation, practically inhaling the pastry in four bites. As the sugary, creamy flavor hit his tongue, he sighed in relief. The dizziness eased up, and the nauseous, sickly feeling faded. Disaster averted.

Still, he wasn’t completely back to normal, and his stomach growled again, reminding him that a single cannoli wasn’t enough to fix everything. He set his sights on brewing a strong cup of coffee and preparing a proper breakfast. Something hearty and satisfying, like a frittata accompanied with cold cuts: prosciutto, salami, maybe some cheese, and cut-up vegetables drizzled with olive oil and a sprinkle of salt. Maybe even slice up some fruit and include a few more Italian pastries. Yes, that sounded like exactly what he needed right now…

But before diving into the task, his gaze drifted back to Prussia, who was still sprawled on the couch, sleeping in the same position as before. Romano frowned, a small sigh escaping his lips. Knowing Prussia, the former nation was likely just as hungry as he was, especially since neither of them had eaten dinner the night before…

He hesitated, crossing his arms as he considered it. Normally, he wouldn’t go out of his way for someone else, but… well, it was only fair after Prussia had treated him to lunch the previous day. The food may not have been five-star quality, but it wasn’t terrible either, and Prussia had paid for the meal. The least he could do was return the favor with breakfast.

Exhaling softly, Romano turned back to the fridge and started rummaging through it. He pulled out eggs, a wedge of parmesan, onions, and a handful of basil leaves. There wasn’t any zucchini (typical) so he grabbed bell peppers and spinach instead. Moving on to the cold cuts, he carefully inspected the packages, scrutinizing the appearance and quality of the meat before deciding which ones were acceptable. Anything that didn’t meet his standards was promptly returned to the fridge.

The same went for the cheeses. Romano examined each option, muttering to himself in disapproval when the selection didn’t live up to what he was accustomed to. After choosing what he deemed worthy, he pulled out the bag of leftover Italian pastries and set it on the counter.
Finally, he closed the fridge and rolled up his sleeves, ready to get to work.

Romano started by setting the coffee beans to brew. While waiting, he moved to the sink, washing the vegetables thoroughly before thinly slicing the onions and chopping up the bell peppers. Next, he cracked the eggs into a bowl, tossing in the vegetables and spinach, and whisked the mixture until it reached the perfect consistency.

The familiar bubbling sound from the coffee machine caught his attention, so he poured the freshly brewed coffee into two separate mugs. Pausing, he glanced toward the living room and peeked his head out to check on Prussia, who, unsurprisingly, was still sprawled out in the exact same position.

Romano squinted at the sight. How in the world was that guy still asleep? He checked the clock—12 PM! Prussia had somehow managed to outdo him in sleeping in, and Romano had thought he was lazy…

For a moment, he debated waking the German up, but the silence was too nice to give up just yet. Returning to the kitchen, he placed the mugs on the table to cool before pulling out a milk carton from the fridge. He poured it into a jug, rummaged through the cupboards for the sugar bowl, and set both on the table. As much as it pained him to butcher a perfectly good cup of coffee, he remembered Prussia’s reaction the last time: spitting out the bitter drink and demanding milk and sugar. He wasn’t about to deal with that again.

Refocusing on breakfast, Romano found a pan, the olive oil, and salt. After heating the pan and pouring in the egg and vegetable mix, he covered it with a lid to let it simmer. With a brief sigh, he sat at the table, sipped his coffee, and allowed his thoughts to wander to the night before.

Prussia’s words crept back into his mind. Something about a secretive impression he had of him, something he’d planned to share ‘tomorrow’... Well, now it’s tomorrow, Romano thought, drumming his fingers against the table. He shot another glance toward the still-snoozing Prussia. Whatever it was, it better not be something aggravating. Then again, with Prussia, who could say?

Shaking his head, he took another sip of his coffee and got back to work. He flipped the frittata, covered it again, and moved on to preparing the rest of the meal. He retrieved the cold cuts, carefully arranging them on a large platter alongside some crackers he found in a cupboard. He chopped up more vegetables, tomatoes and cucumbers, tossing them in olive oil and salt. Then, he gathered some fruits, apples, pears, and bananas, and sliced them neatly, placing them on another plate. Finally, he spooned some yogurt into a bowl to pair with the fruit.

By the time the frittata was done, he plated it, cut it in half, and served each portion separately. Looking around, Romano realized he’d used nearly every plate in the house. But honestly, who cared? It was improper to pile everything onto one plate; meals should be presented nicely, even if it meant a mountain of dishes later…

After admiring his culinary work, the brunet made his way into the living area. To no one’s real surprise, Prussia was still asleep. He’d shifted positions since Romano had last seen him, now lying on his side with his head dangerously close to slipping off the edge of the couch. One arm was tucked under his head for support, while the other draped over the side. Romano couldn’t believe it. It was already 12:30 PM! How could anyone still be asleep at this hour?

“Oh… come on! You’ve gotta be kidding me!” he muttered to himself, marching toward the couch. He stood over the still-snoozing Prussia, incredulous, before reaching down to shake him slightly.

Prussia’s eyes cracked open just enough to give Romano a confused, bleary stare before promptly shutting them again.

“Jesus Christ!” Romano huffed. Was this man serious? After nearly 20 hours of sleep, how could he still be tired?

His patience running thin, the Italian shook him harder, but it had no effect. Frustrated, he resorted to his signature tactic: yelling.

“Wake up! Come on! It’s almost one in the afternoon! You can’t possibly still be tired!” he barked. When that failed, he leaned closer. “BASTARD, WAKE UP!” This time, he punctuated the demand with a sharp slap across Prussia’s face.

That finally did the trick.

Prussia bolted upright, one hand flying to his cheek as he blinked in dazed confusion. He rubbed his face, trying to figure out what had just happened. His red eyes landed on Romano, who stood before him with arms crossed and an expression of pure annoyance.

“Finally!” the Italian snapped. “I’m out here slaving away in the kitchen, and you’re sleeping like it’s not almost noon!”

Prussia groaned, running a hand through his messy hair. He glanced at the clock on the wall, squinting as though it might be lying to him.

“Noon…” he mumbled in a scratchy voice. His brows furrowed, and he pressed his fingers into his temples as if trying to massage some life into his brain. “Ugh… I feel like crap…”

Romano paused. That sounded familiar. Nausea, dizziness, a pounding headache. He’d felt the same way earlier before he’d eaten something. His frustration softened as he glanced at Prussia.

“Of course you feel like crap.” he said, his tone less sharp now. “You’re starving. It’s almost one, and you skipped dinner last night. You’re practically fasting at this point.”

The former nation groaned again, slumping back into the couch.

“Go wash up.” Romano ordered, turning toward the kitchen. “Breakfast… well, lunch, is ready. Don’t keep me waiting.”

With that, he strode away, leaving Prussia to begrudgingly drag himself off the couch.

The German lingered for a moment, still half-slumped on the cushions, trying to piece together what was going on. He rubbed his temples, groaning softly. After a moment of internal struggle, he decided to take Romano’s advice and trudged toward the bathroom.

Washing up was no easy thing. He nearly collapsed twice just trying to stay upright, the sickly, drained sensation weighing on him like bricks. By the time he finished, his head was pounding worse than before. Damn.

When he finally stumbled back into the living area, he caught a faint scent in the air. Hm? he thought. Did Romano fry something? He walked into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes and blinking. There, he saw Romano sitting at the table, casually munching on a cracker topped with what looked like an omelet. A steaming cup of coffee rested in his other hand.

That wasn’t what surprised him, though.
On the table, directly across from Romano, sat a second plate—complete with utensils, a cup of coffee, a jug of milk, and a sugar bowl placed neatly beside it.

He blinked in surprise, the fog of fatigue lifting slightly as he stared. The sickly feeling that had burdened him only moments ago melted away, replaced by something warm, soft, and… oddly overwhelming.

He made me food…?

His expression shifted, and his eyes widened fully.

That’s so… thoughtful.

Prussia plopped down at the table, sliding his chair much closer to Romano with that goofy grin he always wore when things were going his way.

“I thought you didn’t cook for others!” he said, or maybe asked, resting his chin in his hand and fixing his red eyes on the Italian.

Romano rolled his eyes, clearly unimpressed. “I don’t. And this isn’t really cooking, you idiot. It’s just frying some eggs and throwing stuff on the table. Learn the difference.”

With that, he turned his head away, sipping his coffee with a slight huff. The pink tinge on his cheeks didn’t go unnoticed.

“Well, looks cooked enough for me!” Prussia teased with a laugh as he reached for his coffee. He poured in milk, added a bit of sugar, and took a few sips before diving into his plate with plain enthusiasm. He ate like a man who hadn’t seen food in days… which, to be fair, was true.

Romano turned back to him, a faint frown tugging at his lips as he watched him eat. “Can you at least pretend you know what table manners are?”

Prussia tried to answer, but Romano couldn’t understand a word of his muffled reply. The man was talking with half a frittata in his mouth, along with what looked like five pieces of meat and cheese. Ugh… disgusting.

The Italian scoffed and shook his head in disapproval. “Don’t talk with enough food for a week stuffed in your mouth, idiot!” he scolded, trying to focus on his own plate without feeling queasy from Prussia’s lack of decency.

Prussia swallowed it all in one go, then washed it down with a massive gulp of his overly sweetened coffee. Turning back to Romano, he looked as cheerful as ever.

“Man!” he exclaimed, his voice full of energy. “You’re like a master chef! This is awesome!” He quickly shoveled more food into his mouth but paused to swallow properly before speaking again. “Seriously, you’re amazing at cooking!”

Romano glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, brushing his bangs back with a hand. His cheeks had gone a touch pink again. “Of course I am. I’m Italian.” he muttered, as though that explained everything. He hid behind his coffee cup, clearly trying to avoid saying anything else.

Prussia stared at him for a moment, his expression softening into something almost… appreciative. Then, with a satisfied hum, he returned to his plate, devouring what was left with just as much enthusiasm.

As he ate, the sickly feeling from earlier melted away completely. Romano had been right. He’d been starving.

After finishing their very late breakfast, or lunch, depending on how you looked at it, Prussia decided to be helpful and take care of the dishes. Considering the mountain of plates and utensils on the table, it seemed like the decent thing to do.

Normally, neither he nor his brother used this many dishes for a meal, but Romano clearly had a different philosophy. Prussia figured it must be an Italian thing, separating every type of food onto its own plate.

But as he turned toward the dishwasher, his gaze drifted to the sink beside it. His steps faltered.

It was full.

Not just full, but brimming with plates, utensils, the frying pan, and… was that a blender? What on earth had Romano used a blender for?

He turned back to the Italian, who was already on his second cup of coffee, happily munching on some biscuits like nothing was out of the ordinary.

Prussia gestured toward the sink, eyebrows raised. “Did you use every single plate in the house?”

Romano gave him an offended glare. “Wow, that’s a great way to say thank you after I made you breakfast.”

He glanced at the sink, then shrugged. “I needed to chop the vegetables on something, then put them on separate plates. Then I had to mix them with the eggs in a bowl, and so on! It’s called preparation.”

The German tilted his head, his expression skeptical. “Couldn’t you have just reused the plates you put the chopped the vegetables on? I mean, they were just vegetables, and if they were all going into the eggs anyway—”

Romano cut him off with an indignant wave of his hand. “Why would I eat off an already used plate? That’s disgusting!”

Prussia stared at him for a moment, realizing there was absolutely no winning this argument. He sighed in defeat. “Right, right. Got it.“

Turning back to the task at hand, he surveyed the disaster zone with growing dread. “Guess I’ll be running the dishwasher three times…” he muttered to himself. “And… hand-washing the blender and pan. Great.”

After what felt like the most time-consuming cleanup in history, it had taken nearly an hour, Prussia finally finished. Romano had refused to help, claiming he’d already done his part by cooking. Annoying as that was, it was… fair, he supposed. By the time the dishes were done, the counters wiped, and the leftovers stashed in the fridge, the kitchen no longer resembled a war zone but an actual kitchen again.

Thank God.

Prussia left the kitchen and scurried to his room to change out of the clothes he’d been wearing since the night before. He assumed Romano had already done the same since the Italian looked far less disheveled earlier. Once changed, Prussia returned to the living area, where Romano was sitting on the couch, phone in hand, typing away.

Romano glanced up when he noticed Prussia climbing onto the other end of the couch. Lowering his phone, he gave the German a curious look.

Prussia stretched out, making himself comfortable, before addressing him. “So, I don’t really remember—did you go back to bed after falling asleep last night?”

Romano blinked, his brow furrowing slightly as he thought. “Uh, no. I woke up an hour or so before you. Still on the couch.”

“Ah,” the albino replied, mulling it over before a sly grin tugged at his lips. “Wait, how did we both even fit on this couch? It’s not exactly big. Does that mean we—”

Romano, recognizing the smug look forming on Prussia’s face, cut him off immediately. “We slept on separate edges of the couch.”

Prussia raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. “Really? All stiff like that? Till morning?”

“I don’t move in my sleep!” the Italian snapped defensively.

Prussia chuckled. “I do.”

Heat rose to Romano’s face, but he shook his head, trying to ignore it. He shifted to face Prussia directly, narrowing his hazel eyes. “We still slept on opposite sides.” he insisted, his voice firm. “I woke up first, and then you hogged the entire couch. I should know!”

The former nation tilted his head, squinting as if trying to piece something together. “Hmm. Maybe. But I swear I remember… or maybe I dreamed it, something about my hair… like someone messing with it.” He tapped his chin in contemplation.

“IT WAS A DREAM!” Romano blurted, his face now a vibrant shade of red. He hastily turned back to his phone, avoiding eye contact. “You have stupid dreams!”

Prussia’s laughter filled the room, the Italian’s reaction far too entertaining. Even though he already suspected the truth, he didn’t push it. Romano’s embarrassment was answer enough.

“Hm, maybe it was a dream,” he said with a playful smirk, leaning back into the couch. “But you know… it was a good dream.”

Romano’s gaze shifted back to the German’s face, his cheeks redder than ever, though this time he didn’t look away. Instead, he shifted on the couch, drawing his legs in front of him and leaning against the armrest for support. He seemed like he wanted to say something, his lips parting slightly, but he hesitated. His eyes flickered to his phone as if searching for a distraction, but whatever thought was tugging at him wouldn’t let go.

Finally, after a brief pause, Romano cleared his throat, breaking the silence. “Anyways…” he began, his tone casual, though it wavered slightly. “What was it you wanted to tell me today?”

Prussia blinked at him, wide-eyed, as if caught off guard. The brunet tilted his head, frowning at the lack of response.

“You said you had something you wanted to tell me yesterday on the couch,” he pressed, his voice growing more insistent. “And you said you’d tell me tomorrow—which, by the way, is now today. So…” He shifted forward slightly, resting an elbow on his knee, his gaze locked on the other. “What was that thing you wanted to tell me?”

Prussia quickly realized what Romano was referring to, but for some reason, he hesitated. He shifted awkwardly on the couch before abruptly standing up. Romano’s eyebrows rose in surprise as he watched him.

“Yeah, I know what you’re talking about. But… I’ll tell you tonight.” Prussia said, his voice uncharacteristically nervous. Without waiting for a reply, he turned and started heading toward the stairs.

Romano shot up straight on the couch, his eyes narrowing. “What?! Are you serious? And tonight?” He could not believe what he was hearing!

The German paused at the base of the stairs, glancing back over his shoulder with an apologetic grin. “Yeah. I feel way more awesome around that time!” he quipped, attempting to mask his nervousness with his usual cocky attitude.

Before Romano could fire back, he quickly ascended the stairs and disappeared from sight.

The Italian scowled, crossing his arms with a huff. “Awesome my ass…” he muttered under his breath. Letting out a sigh, he leaned back against the couch and picked up his phone to distract himself. A new message from his brother was waiting for him.

“A che ora torneremo? Hmmm, non ne sono troppo sicuro! La Germania dice, in base al traffico e tutto il resto, probabilmente sarà più tardi stasera... intorno alle 22.” (What time will we come back? Hmmm, I’m not too sure! Germany says, based on the traffic and all that, it’ll probably be later tonight… around 10 PM.)

Romano hummed in thought as he typed out a reply.

“È piuttosto tardi. Di' al tuo ragazzo di non schiantarsi con l'auto di notte. So che porta gli occhiali.” (That’s pretty late. Tell your boyfriend not to crash the car at night. I know he wears glasses.)

A reply came almost instantly.

“Stanno leggendo gli occhiali! :)” (They’re reading glasses! :))

Romano rolled his eyes at the smiley face, muttering to himself as he typed again.

“Stessa cosa.” (Same thing.)

Satisfied, he locked his phone and stood up from the couch. Stretching briefly, he decided there wasn’t much else to do downstairs. With that, he made his way upstairs to his room, still grumbling about Prussia’s evasive behavior as he closed the door behind him.

Both he and Prussia spent some time in their respective rooms, tending to their own matters. Eventually, the German came to Romano’s door, urging him to join him for another outing. Although Romano wasn’t in the mood and would have preferred to stay inside, he figured it might be a welcome distraction, so he agreed.

Dressed for the chilly weather, they soon found themselves wandering the streets of Berlin again. The cold was sharper than the day before, and they quickly ducked into a nearby coffee shop for warmth. Prussia purchased a ‘Nußschnecken’ (a traditional German pastry made with almonds or hazelnuts and a glossy glaze) and a warm drink. Romano just settled for a cup of coffee.

With typical persistence, Prussia waved the pastry in the Italian’s face, insisting he try a bite. Annoyed by the German’s pestering, Romano finally gave in. It was sweeter than he liked, but not bad. Still, he flatly declared he didn’t like it. He wasn’t about to admit he’d been wrong. Prussia didn’t seem to mind. He could tell Romano didn’t completely dislike it and found the Italian’s stubbornness amusing.

They lingered in the shop for hours, talking about everything and nothing. The conversation turned to their brothers, with both of them agreeing they could be unbearably sappy.

Romano steered the discussion toward food, passionately explaining the importance of quality over quantity and detailing how to spot the freshest produce. Prussia listened with genuine interest, adding his own quips here and there. The topic eventually shifted to more personal matters, and Romano, uncharacteristically, admitted feeling overshadowed by his brother’s talents. Prussia, surprised by the Italian’s openness, reassured him. He confessed he’d felt similarly as his own brother seemed to surpass him in many ways. The fact made the conversation unexpectedly comforting for Romano… he liked not feeling so alone in these thoughts.

By the time they grabbed a light meal, the sun had begun its descent. Soft red and gold hues spread across the sky, signaling the evening chill was settling in. Agreeing it was best to head back, they made their way home.

Once home, they quickly warmed up after changing out of their outdoor clothes. As on previous days, they found themselves gathering in the living room. It was becoming some sort of tradition at this point. But Romano couldn’t shake the grip of those lingering words. Now that evening had arrived, it meant Prussia was finally going to tell him… whatever it was.

Relief and unease churned together in his chest. On one hand, he’d finally get answers. On the other, what could be so strange, or important, or nerve-wracking, that Prussia had delayed it for an entire day? Whatever it was, he supposed there was no point in agonizing over it now. He’d find out soon enough…

Romano settled awkwardly on the far side of the couch, tucking his legs in front of him. He cast a sidelong glance at Prussia, who was staring blankly into the distance, lost in thought. The silence between them grew heavier by the second, and Romano felt the need to break it.

“So, uh—” he began, but before he could finish, Prussia straightened up, planting his feet firmly on the floor and leaning forward with his elbows on his knees.

“You want alcohol?” he interrupted, his voice unusually tense. His leg bounced nervously, betraying just how on edge he was.

Romano blinked, caught off guard. “Alcohol?” he repeated, raising an eyebrow in confusion.

“Yeah!” the German said, the words tumbling out quickly. “West’s got this secret stash where he keeps all the wine and stuff your brother sends him for ‘special occasions.’ You probably don’t like beer, but Italian wine? That’ll do, right?” His nervousness was impossible to miss, and it made Romano even more suspicious. What could be so important… or so unnerving, that Prussia needed a drink to get through it?

The brunet hesitated. Letting Prussia drink in this jittery state didn’t feel like the best idea, but his curiosity was stronger. If alcohol was what it took to get Prussia to spill whatever was on his mind, then so be it.

“Fine, yeah, sure.” he said at last, watching as Prussia clapped his hands together and stood up with a curt nod.

“But I want the oldest bottle! Not the new crap!” Romano called after him as the German was already heading out of the room. Prussia gave him a thumbs-up over his shoulder without breaking stride.

Left alone on the couch, Romano sank deeper into his overthinking. His mind stirred through every worst-case scenario imaginable. What could be so dire that Prussia needed a drink and nerves of steel to say it? Whatever it was, the idea of hearing it, and hearing it from a tipsy Prussia, no less, made his stomach churn.

This was going to be something.

It wasn’t long before the German returned, smirking victoriously, and carrying not one, but two bottles of wine. Two! And both were Barolo red wines. Romano’s eyes widened as he recognized the brand. These were high-quality bottles, no question about it. But two? Was Prussia planning to drink himself under the table?

Prussia placed the bottles on the small coffee table in front of the couch before heading to the cupboards to retrieve two wine glasses. He set them neatly beside the bottles, then paused, realizing he’d forgotten the bottle opener. “Stay put.” he said, as though Romano were about to go anywhere, and rushed off to the kitchen.

When he returned, he popped the cork on the first bottle. Romano quickly snatched it from him, muttering something about showing him how to pour wine properly. Carefully, he poured a glass, explaining the importance of swirling it in the glass before tasting it, and only then drinking.

They started slow, each having a glass. Conversation flowed more easily after that, and the awkwardness between them began to fade. By the time they’d each finished their second glass, the mood had lightened considerably, and their chatter turned to the most random of topics.

Romano stopped at his third glass, already feeling tipsy. He had no intention of getting drunk and risking a hangover the next day. Prussia, on the other hand, kept going, filling his glass with the last of the first bottle as if it were water. Romano shot him a concerned look, pointing out that the pink tinge in his cheeks made it clear he was already a bit drunk.

But Prussia just waved him off with a grin, insisting he was fine and boasting about his high alcohol tolerance. Before Romano could argue, the German had already cracked open the second bottle. In his tipsy state, Romano found himself unable, or perhaps just unwilling, to stop him.

By the time Prussia had polished off half of the second bottle alone, the effects were impossible to ignore. His usual brashness had been replaced with a silly, overly cheery demeanor, complete with slightly slurred words and exaggerated gestures. The brunet couldn’t help but sigh. This was exactly the kind of nonsense he’d expected…

Suddenly, the albino raised a hand, his gaze fixed on Romano’s head. It was obvious he intended to touch his hair. Romano slapped the hand away instantly, glaring at him.

“What do you think you’re doing?!” he snapped. “You can’t just go around touching people’s hair without asking!”

Prussia frowned, but not in anger—more like a pout, almost childlike. He let out a small grunt and slumped forward, cradling his face in one hand. “That’s not very awesome of you…” he muttered, his voice heavy and slurred.

Romano raised an eyebrow, already regretting agreeing to this whole wine situation. “What the hell are you on about now?”

The German let out a small huff, his free hand idly waving in the air. “You touched my hair…” he mumbled, glancing up with half-lidded eyes. “So… I should be able to touch yours too…”

It wasn’t just the way he said it, mumbled and dragging, it was the statement itself that made the Italian freeze.

“What?” he blurted, his voice rising an octave. “W-What are you even talking about?”

Prussia shrugged lazily and took another gulp of wine before answering, as though he’d almost forgotten the question. “In the morning, you… you touched my hair.” He paused, trying to piece his thoughts together. “I know ‘cause… I was half-asleep. Yeah.”

Romano’s eyes widened, his heart lurching as he nearly flinched. He was awake?! His thoughts raced. That meant Prussia knew. He knew! The hair-touching, the whole thing he’d tried to convince the other was just a dream… Prussia had known all along!

“Th-then why the hell did you agree with me when I said it was probably just a dream?!” he exclaimed, though immediately regretted it. His face turned crimson, not from the wine, but sheer embarrassment.

Prussia didn’t seem to register the panic in Romano’s voice. He just gave another lazy shrug and looked vaguely thoughtful. “Dunno. Didn’t wanna… uh, make you… uncomfortable or somethin’.” he said, his words trailing off as he took another sip.

Romano stared at him, absolutely mortified. His heart pounded in his chest as his mind spun in circles. Prussia had known. He’d known! And yet, he hadn’t said a word. Why? To spare his feelings? To mess with him? To—

No. No, wait. Romano’s eyes narrowed slightly as a thought occurred to him. Prussia was drunk. Very drunk. He wouldn’t remember this conversation tomorrow. Right?

Right.

He exhaled, forcing himself to calm down. Everything was fine. Everything will be fine, he told himself firmly, though his flushed cheeks betrayed just how flustered he truly was…

Having calmed himself, Romano glanced at the German again. Prussia was staring intently at him, or maybe disassociating. Honestly, anything was possible with how drunk he was. Romano tapped a finger against his knee, thinking.

He recalled something Spain had taught him long ago, back when he was far too young to hear such advice: alcohol makes people tell the truth. Aha! That was it. He could ask Prussia about whatever he’d been delaying. With the guy in this state, Romano could finally get a straight answer.

“Hey,” he began, his tone casual but probing. “You wanted to tell me something, right?”

Prussia’s eyes went wide as if Romano had just accused him of a crime. He shifted awkwardly, grabbed his empty wine glass, and raised it to his lips, only to realize it was bone-dry. Without hesitation, he reached for the bottle, but Romano swooped in, snatching it out of his grip.

“Uh, no. Don’t be an idiot. You’ve had enough.” the Italian said firmly, setting the bottle on the far edge of the coffee table.

Prussia groaned dramatically, planting his hands over his face and mumbling something incomprehensible into his palms.

“I can’t understand you when you’re muttering into your hands like that,” Romano snapped, crossing his arms. “Geez.”

Slowly, the former nation peeked out from behind his hands, then let his chin drop into them, elbows braced on his knees. He glanced at Romano from the corner of his eye, his expression somewhere between embarrassed and sheepish. “I need… I need more alcohol to tell you…” he mumbled. “I can still… uh, I can still think…”

The brunet gave him a sharp look. “You can still think? Don’t be stupid. You can’t even form a proper sentence, let alone think.”

Prussia mumbled something again, too quiet to decipher.

Romano let out a sigh, his gaze drifting to the clock. It was already close to 8 p.m. He really wanted to wash up and go to bed, especially after the wine he’d had. But when his eyes returned to the drunken German, he couldn’t shake the gnawing frustration of not knowing what Prussia had been meaning to tell him all day. How nerve-wracking!

“C’mon,” he urged, his tone filled with irritation and exhaustion. “Spit out whatever it is you need to say already. I wanna go wash up.”

Prussia’s head snapped up, his red eyes wide with alarm. “You’re leaving?” he asked, his voice filled with an unexpected urgency.

“Uh, leaving upstairs, yeah,” Romano clarified, frowning. “What? Did you think I was about to leave the country or something?”

“Ah…” the German mumbled, his gaze dropping. After a moment, he looked back at Romano, his expression unusually pitiful. “I’ll… I’ll tell you. Just don’t go yet. Stay.”

Romano couldn’t quite understand why Prussia’s words, whether it was how he said them or what he said, stirred so many feelings inside and out. Then again, there were plenty of things he didn’t understand, so whatever. He glanced away, a bit flustered, and mumbled, “Fine, bastard, I’ll stay a bit longer…” with a resigned sigh.

A second passed, maybe a few, and Romano sat stiffly, unsure what to expect. Prussia, however, leaned closer. Too close for comfort. Romano could feel the other’s warmth now, a detail that only heightened the tension coiling in his chest.

“You know, Romano…” the German began, his words slurring just a bit as he broke the silence. “I think it’s awesome the way you always… uh… bite back during arguments. Even when you’re not arguing.” He let out a faint laugh, his smirk faint but real. “I really like that about you.”

Romano raised an eyebrow, his throat tight and his heart doing something he’d rather it not. But before he could respond, Prussia pressed on, oblivious of the effect his words were having.

“And… and you know how you’ve got all these ideals and stuff? Like… you won’t do something unless it meets your expectations?” He gave a weak, drunken smile. “I think that’s awesome too.”

Romano didn’t know where to look. If he weren’t tipsy, he’d be fumbling for an excuse, a way to deflect the sudden heat rushing to his face. Instead, he told himself he could blame the wine for the redness in his cheeks. Yeah, it’s the wine, he thought, even as his rushing pulse betrayed him…

It wasn’t necessarily the words themselves… anyone could say nice things, and he wouldn’t care. But knowing this was what Prussia truly thought about him? (Because, again, when one is drunk, they tend to tell the truth) Knowing those words were real? It made Romano’s heart race like nothing else…

And the German wasn’t finished.

“I… I also think the way you dress and look is really… uh…” Prussia trailed off, glancing to the side, his own face tinged pink despite the flush already there from the alcohol. “...nice.”

The Italian blinked, his mind a blur. What was happening? Why was Prussia listing things he liked about him? It didn’t make any sense. And yet… a small thought… a very, very tiny thought… nudged its way into the back of his mind.

No way.

There was no way this was going where that thought suggested it was going.

Romano shook his head slightly, trying to cool the heat on his face before glancing back at the albino. Somehow, he managed to mutter a single word:

“…So?”

Prussia shifted closer, and Romano nearly flinched at the sudden proximity. The German’s breath, warm and slightly uneven, ghosted against his skin. Romano swallowed hard, forcing himself to stay still.

Prussia took a deep breath, as if steadying himself. His crimson eyes locked on Romano’s, drunken yet strangely clear, strangely genuine…

“So… I…” he hesitated, his voice faltering.

The Italian’s pulse quickened as he watched, waiting, every theory he’d made up in his mind spiraling out of control.

“I think I may…” the former nation pressed on, nearly whispering at this point.

He may? He may what? Romano’s thoughts scrambled, his chest tightening.

Then, finally, the words that had been delayed for an entire day spilled from the German’s lips.

“I think I may be… in love with you.”

Chapter Text

“I think I may be… in love with you.”

The words barely registered in Romano's mind at first. He was tipsy, flushed, and outright panicked. But when they finally sank in, his already frantic state spiraled even further.

In love?

Prussia was… in love with him?

What?—Wha—WHAT?

Panic might have been an understatement. Romano's face burned like a ripe tomato, and his heart—was it even still beating? It raced so fast it felt like it might stop altogether. The same went for his pulse. Rational thought was long gone, and he was so overwhelmed he might as well have fainted right then and there!

Prussia was close. Too close. Romano could feel his nervous, uneven breaths brushing against his skin. The man had just confessed to him! And there was no mistaking it for a joke or an attempt to provoke him. No one in Prussia’s state could fake that kind of sincerity, much less spin it into some ploy. Those words… they were real.

The Italian still couldn’t wrap his head around it. Was he shocked? Overwhelmed? Thrilled? Probably all three. The man he had feelings for had just admitted to being in love with him. In love. That wasn’t some casual phrase you threw out lightly. It wasn’t a fleeting crush or a passing whim. It was big. Romano wasn’t even sure he could call what he felt “love” yet. Like, sure. Feelings, absolutely. But love? That took time, didn’t it? Had Prussia been harboring these feelings longer than Romano could’ve guessed? Was that why he could use the word so confidently?

The southern nation froze, holding his breath as he tried to gather his scattered thoughts. He needed to calm down—his racing heart, his chaotic mind, all of it. But with the alcohol clouding his head, the fog wouldn't lift, and his silence lingered. Perhaps a tad too long…

“You… don’t love me back?” Prussia blurted out suddenly, catching Romano completely off guard.

“Huh?!”

The German lowered his head, his expression shifting to something somber. Romano blinked, confusion and surprise swirling in his mind. How had Prussia even come to such a conclusion? A second passed—maybe two—before it clicked. Right. The silence. That had to be it. His silence had sent the wrong message.

He should say something… anything. But finding the right words felt impossible while he was still flustered, panicked, and undeniably tipsy. No! Romano! For God’s sake, pull yourself together! With that thought, he forced himself to sound normal. Well… forced being the keyword.

“H-Hey! Don’t give me that look! It’s not like I—…” Romano stopped, stumbling over his words. What he wanted to say next felt way too cheesy, so he awkwardly switched gears. “Well… what you said just caught me off guard! That’s why I’ve been so… uh, quiet!” Even that came out as a stammer, his voice trembling as his face burned hotter by the second. He could feel the heat rushing to his cheeks, completely betraying the calm demeanor he was desperately trying to fake. Acting normal was quickly becoming the hardest thing in the world. Damn it!

With another mental shove to keep himself going, Romano cleared his throat, determined to press on despite how much effort it took. “Anyway… love’s a big word, you know? I wouldn’t say I—”

Yet…

Before he could finish, the German tilted his head and, without warning, leaned forward, resting it against Romano’s shoulder. The sudden weight caught Romano so off guard that he nearly toppled off the couch in shock.

“Wha—what the hell?! Hey! You can’t just—!” he started, his voice filled with irritation. His already humiliating speech had been interrupted by something somehow even more embarrassing. What the hell had gotten into the potato-brained German? His mind raced as he tried to think of some cruel remark to yell that would get Prussia out of his personal space.

But the words died in his throat when he heard it—a small, audible sniffle.

The brunet blinked, frozen in disbelief. Was this guy… crying? What in the world?

The first thought that ran through his mind, considering the type of person Prussia was, was: Is this guy seriously fake-crying to guilt-trip me? Sure, it wasn’t exactly a fair assumption—he knew he was “judging a book by its cover” or whatever—but could you blame him? This was Prussia they were talking about. The guy was notorious for using tricks and schemes to get his way.

With a sigh, Romano glanced down at the messy white hair now resting against his shoulder. He’d been caught off guard by Prussia’s confession, sure, but it wasn’t like he didn’t feel the same. That much had been his internal struggle all along—coming to terms with those feelings, learning to accept them. If Prussia hadn’t confessed so shamelessly, Romano probably would’ve been stuck in the endless loop of “Does he even like me back?” forever.

And yet here they were. Prussia had taken the lead—something Romano hadn’t anticipated, though maybe he should have. The German’s constant attempts to impress him, his over-the-top antics… in hindsight, it all started to make sense.

Romano had wondered about it before but hadn’t dared to hope…

Still, this sniffle felt so dramatic. Was Prussia really trying to fake his way through this? The brunet frowned, his skepticism kicking in. No, that couldn’t be it. Prussia was drunk, and there was no way he had the brainpower to pull off such a manipulative stunt right now..

So… this was real?

Romano blinked, his hand twitching as he debated poking the albino to snap him out of it. He thought for a few moments longer… but before he could act, Prussia finally muttered something under his breath.

“Nobody loves the awesome Prussia…”

Huh?

The Italian was startled that he’d spoken but also suspicious. ‘Nobody loves the awesome Prussia?’ It sounded more like a bitter complaint than actual sadness. His instinct was to shoot back with a sharp remark, something snarky to put the idiot in his place, but he hesitated.

As pathetic as this idiot could be, seeing him so easily discouraged was… well, pitiful.

With a small sigh—and silently cursing himself for going soft—Romano reached out and patted Prussia’s head lightly. This was so unlike him, but… whatever. The things one does for the person they like… or however that saying went.

“Why do you jump to conclusions so quickly?” he asked, his tone softer than he’d intended.

Almost instantly, Prussia lifted his head to look at him, wide red eyes filled with a hope that made Romano’s heart skip a beat. How many times have I thought about his stupid red eyes? Romano wondered, annoyed with himself. I definitely have a thing for them…

Shaking his head to clear the intrusive thought, he focused on keeping his composure. He tried not to think about how the blush on his face probably matched the bright red eyes staring up at him right now. Pressing on, he muttered, “You didn’t even let me finish my sentence, idiot.”

Prussia, uncharacteristically silent, didn’t respond. Romano, now looking away out of sheer embarrassment, continued, his voice quieter than before. “Love isn’t just a word you throw around. It’s… it’s something that takes time. You have to know someone, really know them, before you can—”

“I do love you.”

The words cut through Romano’s rambling, startling him. Prussia tilted his head, leaning into his view. His voice was steady, almost defiant, forcing the Italian to meet his gaze. “I do.”

For a moment, Romano just stared at him, the words replaying in his mind over and over. Each repetition chipped away at his defenses, leaving him increasingly swayed by their sincerity. Oh… that stupid, confused-yet-good-looking face. Why did it make him feel like the bad guy here, just because he was trying to explain that love took time instead of outright reciprocating? His chest tightened with irritation… and guilt. Prussia was really putting himself out there, and Romano didn’t know how to deal with it.

He took a small breath, clearing his throat awkwardly. “Right…” he mumbled, unsure of what else to say. Whatever he’d been trying to explain clearly wasn’t working, so he decided to meet him halfway. Or… something like that.

“Uh…” he started but faltered, heat rushing to his face again. Why was this so hard? Admitting feelings was bad enough—admitting them out loud felt like torture. Taking a deep breath, Romano forced himself to continue, even as his heart pounded painfully in his chest. “That’s why… I wouldn’t call what I… uh, feel toward you ‘love,’ exactly…” He paused, hoping the words would sink in without giving Prussia time to jump to another conclusion.

“But I think…” He hesitated again, his gaze dropping to the floor as his hands nervously fidgeted with the hem of his sleeve. His pulse felt deafening, but he pressed on. “I think it’s possible that I… might feel something for you. Like… some sort of attraction, or whatever…”

The German blinked, his expression strangely blank for someone who’d just had their feelings reciprocated. It was the look of a man too drunk to fully grasp what had been said. Right… he’s drunk, Romano reminded himself with an irritated sigh. If this guy was going to understand, he needed to spell it out in simpler terms.

Clearing his throat again, Romano shoved his discomfort aside. He shifted in his seat, leaning forward slightly, his hands still gripping his sleeves tightly. “I’m saying…” He groaned, his cheeks burning as the words caught in his throat. “Ugh, this is so corny. You owe me for this, you bastard.”

His heart pounded, and he hated the way his voice wavered... but he didn’t give himself the chance to hesitate. He swallowed hard, forcing down the lump in his throat, and let the words tumble out, faster than he’d intended because the embarrassment was unbearable.

“I like you.”

There was no mistaking the message now.

The other nation stared at him, wide-eyed, and Romano felt his face burn with embarrassment. Before he could say anything, Prussia leaned in closer, his face flushing a deep, unmistakable red—not the pale pink of alcohol, but something far more telling…

“So… you do love me?” he asked, a slight smile tugging at his lips as he inched closer.

Romano’s heart jolted, but he shoved Prussia’s face away with a huff. “Tch! Idiot!” he snapped, scurrying further down the couch like a startled cat. His cheeks burned brighter, but he crossed his arms in a feeble attempt to seem unaffected.

“I never said that! Stop putting words in my mouth!” he snapped. “I said I like you, not—ugh! Don’t twist my words, dumbass!” His voice faltered a little bit. “I told you, I can’t just… just say that! It’s not that simple!”

But he froze mid-rant, noticing the faint frown on Prussia’s face. Those red eyes, gazing at him in confusion, reminded Romano of one important fact. Prussia was completely drunk. And here he was, once again, trying to explain something far too complicated to someone too far gone to comprehend. The thought alone was… kind of frustrating.

Romano sighed.

Sure, it felt nice to have his feelings returned—at least, in theory. But now, as he replayed the situation in his mind, that "nice" feeling rang hollow. This was how Prussia chose to confess—needing not just one drink to loosen up, but nearly two bottles to wreck himself to the point of incoherence? It grated on Romano’s nerves. If Prussia truly loved him as much as he claimed, why couldn’t he say it while sober? Why did it have to come to this?

Romano let out a small, frustrated groan, dragging a hand down his face. “What’s the point in saying anything right now?” he muttered, not bothering to lower his voice—Prussia wouldn’t understand him anyway. “You’re drunk.”

The German blinked at him again, his expression clouded with that same muddled uncertainty that refused to leave his face. Somehow, that only made Romano feel worse.

“You’re really messing this up for both of us, you know that?” the Italian snapped, not caring anymore whether Prussia understood him. “I’m here, trying so hard not to make a fool of myself while spilling my guts to you, and you can’t even stand up straight!” His gaze dropped to the floor, voice dipping into something bitter. “You’ll just forget all of this tomorrow and go back to acting like—like you! And I’ll remember everything. I’ll be the one embarrassed, again, because I’m always the one who has to—ugh!”

He cut himself off, frustration tightening his jaw as his glare shot back up to the unsuspecting German, who looked like he hadn’t the faintest idea what he’d done wrong. It only made Romano’s irritation flare hotter, as if the man had ruined his life on purpose.

“God forbid you ever say anything serious without getting drunk first,” he muttered bitterly. The admission hurt more than he cared to admit. “And if I ask you about this tomorrow, and if you do remember, you’ll just awkwardly laugh it off or pretend it never happened. I know you will!”

His voice cracked slightly at the end, though he masked it with another groan, pressing his fingers to his temples. He was talking to a brick wall, wasn’t he?

His face was probably twisted into an angry scowl by now, but when he glanced at Prussia, the sight of him stopped Romano’s thoughts cold. The confusion was gone, replaced by something else—something that almost resembled hurt or sadness. It was a strange expression, like Prussia had understood what Romano said about him, and understood it wasn’t exactly flattering…

A flicker of guilt stabbed through Romano’s chest, sharp and sudden, but he pushed it aside. He had every reason to be mad. A good reason to stay mad, too. Crossing his arms, he turned his gaze away, refusing to let himself linger on that pathetic look. His voice dropped to a low grumble.

“Why… why couldn’t you just confess like a normal person instead of drinking your problems away?” he muttered. “You’re such a damn idiot sometimes.” He huffed at the end, a small, sharp sound meant to punctuate his frustration, as if it would somehow make his anger feel more justified.

But when he chanced another glance at Prussia, his heart skipped a beat (and not in a good way). The man was still staring at him, and that sad expression… it hadn’t gone away. In fact, it looked even sadder now, heavy enough to make Romano reconsider his choice of words...

Great.

Maybe Prussia was drunk, but apparently not so drunk that he hadn’t picked up on the petty, insensitive things Romano had just said. And sure, they were true, damn it—but for him to actually get it in his current state… That meant what Romano had said must’ve been really bad.

He didn’t want to explain himself. He didn’t feel like apologizing, either. But God help him, he’d be lying if he said that miserable, kicked-puppy look on Prussia’s face didn’t get to him…

The Italian bit his lip, annoyed at himself for being like this. He exhaled sharply through his nose, debating his next move, before finally deciding to speak. “Uh… look, I—” he began awkwardly…

But he didn’t even get the chance to finish, because out of nowhere, Prussia suddenly spoke, cutting him off mid-sentence.

“You’re… you’re mad…” he mumbled, his voice thick and slow, each word dragging out like it weighed more than he could handle. He blinked hard, strugglin to even focus his gaze. “Mad that… uh, I didn’t… didn’t say it. Before… y’know, drinking.”

Romano’s jaw tightened, caught off guard. For someone as drunk as Prussia, that wasn’t a half-bad sentence. Somehow, he’d managed to hit the nail on the head, pinpointing the reason behind Romano’s earlier outburst. But the sluggish delivery made him hesitate... Was that a question? A statement? He wasn’t sure, so he stayed quiet…

“I… uh… I’m sorry. I think,” Prussia continued, though he paused to correct himself, stumbling over the words like they were foreign. “No—no, I am sorry. It’s just… hard to, uh… say stuff like this. You know? Big stuff. Feelings. Love and all that crap.”

Huh…

Despite the slurred delivery, Prussia’s words didn’t feel like the aimless rambling Romano had been expecting. No, there was something genuine buried in the drunken mess, and against his better judgment, the Italian kept listening…

“I’m usually awesome at saying stuff,” the German rambled, gesturing vaguely in the air, like waving his hand would help his case. “Brave. Confident. Awesome. But, um…” He trailed off, his gaze dropping to the carpet like it was shifting beneath him. “When I wanted to tell you this—I didn’t feel awesome. I felt… uh, scared? Yeah. That.”

Scared? Romano blinked, the thought catching him off guard. Him? Scared? This was the guy who could brag about anything—his skills, his looks, even his questionable fashion sense—and here he was, admitting something so vulnerable. For Prussia to say he was scared… that meant something. Something big.

Prussia rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “I—I love you, okay? I do. But I was scared you’d, um, reject me. That’d suck. It’s happened before, and… and I don’t…” He wavered, catching himself on the arm of the couch as his breath hitched unevenly. “I don’t wanna feel like that again. Like I’m not… not lovable. Or whatever.”

“That’s why I wanted us to drink…” he pressed on, his voice softening, his gestures growing weaker as he motioned vaguely toward the wine bottles. “Because I’m not scared right now. I can… I can say all this because I’m not scared anymore.”

Romano’s breath caught in his throat.

This was Prussia, for God’s sake. The same obnoxious, self-absorbed idiot who spent half his time boasting and the other half causing chaos just to avoid any real responsibility. Prussia never admitted he was wrong—he’d move heaven and earth before saying “I’m sorry,” let alone “I was scared.” Even Germany, the one person who knew him better than anyone, struggled to get through that thick skull of his.

And yet, here he was. Admitting he was afraid. Afraid of rejection. Afraid of love. Acknowledging past failures that had left him scarred and guarded. The same man who’d charge headfirst into any situation without a second thought was now standing before him, laying bare a truth Romano hadn’t expected to hear in a million years.

It was almost unbelievable.

Romano’s heart raced, but not in the frantic, flustered way he usually felt when he was embarrassed or annoyed. This was… different. Softer. Warmer. He could feel the heat rising to his face, but it wasn’t the aggressive blush of someone caught acting like an idiot over a silly crush. No, this felt deeper, steadier—like something that reached past the surface and settled in his chest.

He felt calm. Relaxed, even.

And while a small part of him couldn’t help but wish Prussia had said all of this while sober, it didn’t really matter right now. The words had been said. Prussia had opened up, pulled back the curtain, and let him see a side of himself he kept buried. A side that was genuine and honest, and maybe even a little afraid.

That was enough.

For the first time that night, Romano felt… content.

With a small scoff of resignation, the Italian shifted slightly toward Prussia. The German’s gloomy expression vanished in an instant, replaced by wide, awe-struck eyes, as if Romano had just handed him the greatest treasure in the world.

“Don’t think you’re off the hook just yet,” Romano started, his tone sharp enough to keep the German in check, though it softened near the end. “But… uh, thanks for… for telling me this. It means… a lot to me…” His voice trailed off, the last words quiet, more for himself than Prussia—but Romano knew he’d probably heard them too. “This is the one thing you’re not allowed to forget… got it?!”

He jabbed a finger toward Prussia, whose wide-eyed stare remained locked on him. The intensity of it made the southern nation’s stomach twist uncomfortably—or maybe comfortably. He couldn’t tell anymore.

“You can forget everything else for all I care, but not that! Otherwise, I’ll stay mad at you. Capito?” (Understood?)

Prussia didn’t move. He just kept staring, his expression so utterly full of awe and adoration that it was almost unbearable. Damn it, Romano thought, he was way too attractive when he looked at him like that…

“You got that?!” the Italian repeated, leaning closer, his heart hammering faster than he wanted to admit, the heat creeping up his neck in defiance of his attempt to stay calm.

The only response from Prussia was a quiet, confused—or maybe strained—“Uh huh…” It wasn’t exactly reassuring, but Romano supposed it would have to do. Prussia’s eyes narrowed slightly, his breaths turning shallow, the weight of his drunkenness clearly catching up to him—or, Romano thought uneasily, maybe there was something else on the idiot’s mind.

He was just about to roll his eyes when he caught it: Prussia’s gaze shifting. Not to the floor, the couch, or some random object, but lower. To his lips.

Romano froze. He didn’t need to second-guess what he’d seen—it was obvious. So painfully obvious it made his chest tighten and his thoughts spiral. Damn it, he thought to himself, that’s one hell of a reason to back up. He’d gotten too close, far closer than he should’ve been, and now it was starting to show.

But… did he even want to back up?

If he’d been completely against the idea of whatever was likely playing out in Prussia’s drunk, love-addled brain, he would’ve moved by now. Put some space between them, shut it down before it could even start. But he hadn’t. He was still there.

No! Romano’s thoughts jolted, his mind screaming like a bucket of cold water had been dumped over him. This guy is drunk! Drunk! Sharing feelings was one thing, but indulging in them? That was another thing entirely. He couldn’t—shouldn’t—do that. Not when Prussia was wasted and he, himself, was still reeling from the wine. Things could spiral. They could spiral so easily.

And yet…

With Prussia only inches away, his breath warm and shallow, common sense felt like a faint, distant whisper, drowned out by the erratic thundering of his heart.

He should move. He had to move.

But for some reason…

He didn’t.

The German inhaled deeply, then exhaled, his breath heavy and uneven. “Does that mean… you return my… feelings?” he murmured, his voice barely audible, like he was afraid the question might make the other nation bite back.

But that definitely was not the case.

Romano felt like his heart might give out right then and there. He was seconds away from melting into a puddle of emotions—embarrassment, shame, nervousness, and something else he couldn’t quite name. Maybe it was all of those things, tangled up and sitting heavy in his chest, making it impossible to breathe normally or think straight.

He didn’t want to answer. Hell, just admitting something so personal, so vulnerable, felt like tearing away a layer of his own skin. His pride was already battered, and the thought of adding to that humiliation made him want to crawl under the couch and disappear.

And yet, something stopped him.

Maybe it was the wine, loosening his resolve, silencing the sharp edges of his usual defenses. Or maybe it wasn’t the wine at all.

Whatever it was, it didn’t let him snap back with something biting or sarcastic. Instead, his response slipped out softly, hesitantly, and so unlike him it left even himself stunned.

“What do you think, idiot…”

At that, Prussia smiled—a soft, genuine smile that sent a wave of warmth radiating from his flushed face. It wasn’t the usual cocky grin or mischievous smirk; no, this smile was different. It was so open, so pleased, that Romano almost felt like saying something about it…

But before he could even think of anything to say to break the moment, Prussia leaned in closer. Too close. Dangerously close. Romano’s heart jumped into his throat, pounding so hard he thought it might just give out.

“Then… can I… I want to…” the albino stammered, his voice faltering as his face inched nearer, his red eyes locked onto Romano like he was the only thing that mattered.

“Just—just—!” the Italian snapped, his words tumbling out in a flustered rush as the heat in his cheeks became unbearable. “This is way too embarrassing to ask, moron!”

And yet, as much as Romano hated it, he knew exactly what the idiot was trying to ask. He also knew, with frustrating certainty, that Prussia would just sit there, fumbling over his words and looking stupidly good while doing it, until the end of time if Romano didn’t take charge.

That thought alone made his head spin.

So, before he could talk himself out of it, before his pride could rear its head and stop him, Romano grabbed the front of Prussia’s shirt, yanked him forward, and kissed him.

The kiss was quick, abrupt, and absolutely an “I’m shutting you up” kind of move. Yet, there was no denying the heat behind it—or the way Prussia responded. Romano felt the initial tension in the German’s lips, but he also felt the hand that gently gripped his forearm.

He was into it.

But—

The kiss ended as fast as it started. Romano yanked himself back, his face burning as the weight of what he’d just done hit him like a ton of bricks. He’d kissed Prussia. While Prussia was drunk. And he, himself, was tipsy. Spain’s warnings about situations like this came flooding into his mind, and this was not how they were supposed to go.

Desperate to salvage some shred of dignity, Romano avoided looking directly at Prussia and muttered. “I… I only did that because your stupid face was all in my space! Or… or something! Not that it matters—you’re drunk, so you won’t even remember this tomorrow! And I… I have nothing to be embarrassed about!”

But…

Before he could spiral any further, Prussia’s hand slipped from his forearm and cupped the side of his head. The other found its way to the back of his neck. Romano barely had time to yelp in protest before Prussia pulled him closer and kissed him again—this time on his terms.

The brunet’s eyes widened so much they looked like they might pop out of his head. His heart pounded violently in his chest, as though it was trying to break free entirely.

Prussia tilted his head, deepening the kiss with maddening confidence, but Romano snapped back to reality. Letting out a furious, muffled groan, he shoved Prussia hard in the chest and yanked himself away.

“JUST WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING, BASTARD?!” Romano shouted, his face as red as the couch beneath them. “WHO GAVE YOU THE RIGHT TO—TO JUST—TO DO SOMETHING SO—SO IMPULSIVE?!”

Prussia didn’t seem fazed in the slightest. If anything, he looked distracted, his crimson eyes studying Romano’s face like he was committing every detail to memory. When he finally spoke, his tone was calm, almost disarming. “You.”

“M-me?!” Romano sputtered, tripping over his own outrage. He wanted to argue, to throw another insult his way, but the words died in his throat when the realization hit him. Technically… yeah. He had kissed Prussia first.

Still, there was no way he’d admit defeat so easily. “W-well, since when do you listen to anyone, huh?!” he shot back, trying to regain his footing.

Prussia caught both of Romano’s hands with surprising gentleness, ignoring the fiery energy radiating off the Italian. He pulled him just a little closer, a quiet smirk tugging at his lips. “I don’t,” he murmured, his voice low and steady, his gaze locked on Romano’s. “But…” He leaned in, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “… I do listen to you.”

Romano’s chest tightened like a vice. How many heart attacks could one person survive before they finally dropped dead? Because he was positive this was his limit. That line was so stupidly cheesy! And yet… the way Prussia looked at him… those red eyes soft, sincere, and completely unguarded… made it impossible to see it as anything but genuine.

Heat rose to the southern nation’s face as he jerked his head to the side, refusing to meet that gaze any longer. His lips pressed into a pout, more stubborn than defiant.

Prussia, undeterred, seemed to take the silence as a green light. His hand moved slowly to the back of Romano’s head, his fingers threading through his hair. A tiny, hopeful smile played at his lips as he leaned closer, voice soft. “… Can I—”

“Don’t ask!” Romano snapped, cutting him off sharply.

Prussia’s eyes didn’t just light up—they sparked. Before Romano could think to retreat, he was pulled forward, and Prussia kissed him again.

This time, the kiss was deeper, more intense than the last two, like Prussia was pouring every emotion he’d bottled up into this single moment.

Romano stiffened at first, unsure if he should shove him away again or just let it happen. But the way Prussia’s hands cradled the back of his head, fingers threading into his hair, made it hard to think of anything else. His touch was firm yet careful, like he was afraid Romano might pull away at any second…

And Romano… he should’ve stopped this. He knew he should’ve. But he didn’t.

Instead, he leaned into it, clutching Prussia’s shirt with hesitant hands. His heart hammered wildly in his chest—louder, faster than ever—but he didn’t care.

Honestly, the kiss was a little sloppy, thanks to the alcohol, but it also felt… fulfilling in some way. There was something addictive about the way Prussia kissed him, like he was trying to express everything he couldn’t say in words. And Romano… as much as he hated to admit it, he liked it.

Embarrassing? Absolutely. Awkward? Probably even more so once this was all said and done. But still… it felt good.

Slowly, the brunet loosened his grip on Prussia’s shirt, his tense body finally relaxing as he leaned into the moment. His hands drifted to the other’s shoulders, then trailed up to his face. He cupped Prussia’s cheeks, his fingers brushing lightly against his jawline, and tilted his head slightly to adjust their angle. If they were going to do this, they might as well do it right. And who better than a Mediterranean to make that happen?

The sudden change in pace didn’t escape the German. His breath brushed softly against Romano’s lips, and his movements grew surer, more purposeful, as though he’d realized Romano had no intention of pulling away.

Romano himself grew more confident as he leaned further into the kiss, trying to match the other’s intensity. However, maintaining the upright position was proving to be a bit of a challenge. The Italian was starting to grow tired of leaning backward, especially since the German’s larger frame required him to angle even more to make it work. With the effort Romano was putting into the kiss, it was no wonder he was getting frustrated.

It seemed his discomfort didn’t go unnoticed. Prussia attempted to support him, placing a hand on his back for balance, but when a kiss turned this heated, keeping hands in one place was easier said than done. Fortunately, Prussia seemed to have an idea. Without warning, he shifted them toward the edge of the couch, pinning Romano against the armrest with his weight.

Romano’s breath hitched, probably from the surprise, but he didn’t complain. This position was far more comfortable, and at least now he wouldn’t have to keep leaning awkwardly. It was a clever move on Prussia’s part. Romano adjusted himself against the armrest, braced his hands for balance, and let Prussia settle fully against him.

Damn, he’s heavy, Romano thought, a flicker of irritation crossing his mind. Still, it wasn’t enough to stop him. If anything, the way Prussia practically melted into him, his warmth radiating between them, made Romano’s chest tighten in a way that had nothing to do with discomfort…

They continued kissing, completely lost in the moment. Frantic breaks for air were brief, mere seconds before they dove back in, their hands wandering without thought or direction. The heat between them was rising fast… things were definitely about to escalate. That is, until something stopped them…

What could it be? Well… unfortunately for them, their heated make-out session dulled their senses to everything else. Neither of them noticed the faint click of the front door unlocking or the creak as it swung open…

The blissful bubble they were in popped violently when two figures stepped inside… and one of them, very loudly, announced their arrival.

“Big brother! Guess who’s back earl—!” Veneziano’s cheerful voice rang out, only to cut off abruptly.

Romano froze. His heart stopped. He knew that voice.

Veneziano’s wide, confused eyes locked onto his older brother… then shifted to the figure leaning over him, lips pressed firmly against his own.

For a second, Veneziano simply stood there, his brain working overtime to process what he was seeing. Then, it clicked.

“WAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!” The younger Italian’s scream shattered the fragile silence like glass, his horrified gaze darting between the two on the couch. His finger trembled as he pointed at them, his voice cracking. “Y-you’re—you’re k-kissing?! NO! YOU’RE MAKING OUT!”

His face contorted in a mix of shock, betrayal, and utter disbelief, as if he’d just walked in on something he’d spend the rest of his life trying to forget. “FRATELLO!!!”

Germany, who had been preoccupied with the luggage and hadn’t been paying attention, sharply turned his head at the sound of Veneziano’s shriek. “What are you—” he started, his tone impatient as he tried to make sense of the commotion. The words ‘kissing’ and ‘making out’ barely registered at first, and he frowned in confusion as he glanced toward the couch.

At first, the sight of his brother leaning over Romano, their lips just barely parting, didn’t fully register. But then, realization dawned on him like a slap to the face. His blue eyes widened, and his usually stoic expression cracked, hardening into one of shock… and perhaps disbelief as well.

“COSA STAI… STAI FACENDO AL MIO POVERO FRATELLO?!!!!! VIA DA LUI!!!!” (WHAT ARE YOU… ARE YOU DOING TO MY POOR BROTHER?!!!!! GET AWAY FROM HIM!!!!) Veneziano shrieked in his native tongue, arms flailing as if physically trying to erase the image from existence. He turned to Germany, tears already streaming down his cheeks. “GERMANY! GERMANY! GET YOUR BROTHER OFF OF MY BROTHER! HE’S DOING THINGS HE DOESN’T WANT! WAAAAH! MY POOR FRATELLO! PRUSSIA, YOU… YOU BIG MEANIE!”

Romano and Prussia had long since stopped kissing, but their reactions couldn’t have been more different.

Romano looked utterly mortified. His face, neck, and ears were burning with such a deep red it was practically glowing. His wide, unblinking eyes resembled those of someone who’d just witnessed their life flash before them. He was so stiff he might as well have been a statue. He wanted the ground to swallow him whole. No, he thought, being locked in England’s dungeon and force-fed his cooking would be better than this.

Prussia, on the other hand, had the audacity to look… annoyed. His lips were slightly pursed, and he gave the two newcomers a look as if they were the ones interrupting something important.

With zero shame, he muttered. “Uh… do you mind?”

Romano’s humiliation reached its peak. Before Prussia could even think about leaning back in, Romano lashed out, kicking the albino off him with surprising force and sending him tumbling to the other side of the couch.

“I DO MIND!” he screeched, feeling absolutely embarrassed. The sheer pitch of it made Veneziano flinch.

Scrambling to the far end of the couch, Romano clutched at the cushions as though they could somehow shield him from the burning, judgmental stares in the room. His face was a furious shade of red, and his hazel eyes darted anywhere but at the trio standing before him.

Seeing this, Veneziano wasted no time rushing to his brother’s side, his face pale with worry and his eyes already brimming with tears. One might’ve thought he was the one caught in such a mortifying situation. Throwing his arms around Romano, he sobbed dramatically.

“Fratello! Are you okay? Did he—did he do something to you?! Ohhh, I didn’t know leaving you alone with him meant you were going to get jumped!”

Romano, still frozen with embarrassment, could only stammer incoherently, his hands gripping his knees so tightly his knuckles nearly hurt.

Veneziano had never seen his brother like this before… so completely flustered, so out of his element. The sight only fueled his emotions, and his tears quickly turned to anger. He spun toward Prussia, who was now sitting upright on the other side of the couch, looking dazed and bewildered.

“YOU!” Veneziano shouted, pointing a finger at the albino. “Germany said you weren’t like this!” His tone carried an unusual sharpness, almost resembling his older brother’s fiery reprimands.

Prussia opened his mouth to speak, but before he could get a word out, Veneziano turned back to Romano, his tear-streaked face crumpling all over again. “I didn’t know, fratello—I didn’t know! I wouldn’t have left you alone with him if… if I would’ve known!” He dissolved into another round of sobs, clutching Romano tightly as though trying to shield him from further harm.

Germany, who had remained silent throughout the chaos, finally stepped into the living room and cleared his throat awkwardly. His pale face betrayed his internal struggle to maintain composure. The accusations against Prussia echoed in his head, and as much as he wanted to defend his brother, he couldn’t. Not this time. Prussia had admitted to him not long ago that he was interested in Romano, but Germany hadn’t thought he’d actually act on it—let alone like this.

“Prussia, you…” he muttered, rubbing his temples as if trying to massage away the headache already forming. His voice was strained with frustration.

Prussia, looking vaguely annoyed by the interruption and clearly irritated by the accusations of harassment, finally broke his silence. “What’s… what’s the big deal? We were just—”

“DON’T SAY IT!” Romano shouted in panic. His face turned an even deeper shade of red. “JUST SHUT UP! THIS NEVER HAPPENED! NEVER!”

Veneziano clung to him even tighter, nodding furiously in agreement. “Yes, fratello, it never happened! I’ll forget it right now!”

Prussia blinked, clearly disoriented and still reeling from the sudden outburst—and, if the glazed look in his eyes was any indication, still very drunk. Meanwhile, Romano buried his face in his hands, muttering something incomprehensible in Italian.

Germany let out a long, exasperated sigh, shaking his head. It was painfully clear that this situation wasn’t going to resolve itself anytime soon. As his gaze shifted, seeking anything to momentarily distract him from the absurdity unfolding, his eyes landed on the coffee table—and froze.

Two empty wine bottles sat there, alongside abandoned glasses. Germany’s stomach sank as he recognized the labels. His ‘secret’ stash. He clenched his jaw, his frustration mounting as he picked up one of the bottles, inspecting it. Completely empty. He set it down and grabbed the second bottle. This one was nearly empty too—barely a quarter left, if even that.

His hand tightened around the bottle as he slowly turned his gaze toward Prussia, his blue eyes narrowing with growing realization. The drunken state, the recklessness, the chaos… it all made sense now. Germany’s expression darkened.

Not only had Prussia stolen from his private collection, he thought grimly, but this entire mess could’ve been avoided if the idiot hadn’t gotten himself wasted.

Still holding the bottle, Germany let out another deep sigh, mentally bracing himself to deal with the aftermath.

“Bruder…” he began, his voice low and dangerously calm as he held up the wine bottle. “…are you drunk?”

Prussia didn’t respond right away. His unfocused gaze drifted toward some distant point, as though he were staring at something only he could see.

Germany’s tone sharpened, his patience wearing thin. “BRUDER!”

Prussia finally snapped back to reality, blinking at his younger brother. “Huh?”

Germany’s hands clenched into fists at his sides. The strain of holding back his temper was almost visible in the tight set of his jaw. “You… you—!” He stopped himself, taking a deep breath as though to physically restrain the urge to strangle the albino. “I asked… are you drunk?”

Prussia furrowed his brow, his face scrunching up in exaggerated thought, as if Germany had asked him to solve a complex math equation. After a long pause, he finally slurred. “Uh… I dunno. Probably.”

Germany’s composure shattered. “YOU ARE!” he bellowed, slamming the bottle back onto the table with enough force to rattle the empty glasses. Both Italians jumped, startled by the outburst. Germany’s furious gaze bore into his brother. “How much did you drink?! Did you force Romano to drink with you too?!”

Romano, still red-faced and mortified, glared at Germany with indignation. “Hey! I’m not drunk, you dumb potato-eater!” he snapped. “But I did have a glass or two…”

Germany turned his horrified expression back to Prussia. “Prussia! Are you serious?! You got Romano to drink just so you could—so you could do that?” He gestured frantically toward the couch. “Have you no shame?! When you told me you knew what you were doing, I didn’t think you meant this!”

Prussia, looking mildly offended, waved a hand dismissively. “Huh? Hey, West… don’t go saying stuff that’s not true!” His words slurred slightly, but his expression was very serious… or at least as serious as it could be given his intoxicated state. “Your awesome brother doesn’t need tricks! I was very nice, told him how I feel, and… uh…” He paused, squinting as though trying to remember. “Oh yeah! I didn’t even have to ask! He kissed me first!”

The room fell silent.

“W-WHA—WHAT?!” Veneziano shrieked, clutching his older brother even tighter, as though the truth might somehow slip away if he held on hard enough. His wide, disbelieving eyes darted between Romano and Prussia, struggling to comprehend what he’d just heard.

Germany’s jaw dropped. He looked as though he’d just been slapped. “What… what did you just say…?”

Prussia, oblivious to the shock his casual confession had unleashed, scratched his head nonchalantly. “I mean, yeah, he gave me the green light. I wasn’t gonna… uh, do anything he didn’t want, y’know? He kissed me first.”

Veneziano’s horrified gasp pierced the silence that followed the former nation’s remark. “FRATELLO?! YOU DID WHAT?!”

Romano’s face, already red with embarrassment, somehow darkened even further. He threw his hands over his face, mumbling incoherently, though he made no effort to deny the claim…

That lack of denial made Veneziano’s anxiety skyrocket. “Fratello?! Y-you didn’t… right? I know you wouldn’t!”

Silence. More silence. Romano remained frozen, his gaze glued to the floor.

“Uh… right, fratello?” Veneziano tried again.

Still, no answer came. The southern Italian shifted uncomfortably, but his refusal to meet anyone’s eyes said more than words ever could.

Germany and Veneziano stared at Romano in utter shock. Then, Veneziano burst out, “YOU DID?!” His voice echoed through the room as he leapt off the couch like the truth was as improbable as an Italian willingly eating pasta with ketchup.

He opened his mouth to shout something else, but before he could, Romano finally snapped.

“SHUT UP!” he yelled furiously. Unfortunately, it did little to calm the chaos—or his own nerves. His entire his face burned hotter than ever. He wanted nothing more than to disappear, to sink into the floor and escape the suffocating attention and judgment pressing in on him from every side.

“STUPID IDIOTS! YOU’RE ALL STUPID!” he shouted, clearly frustrated, and, before anyone could stop him, he shoved his younger brother aside with a forceful push. Veneziano let out a startled yelp, stumbling back.

Without another word, Romano bolted from the couch, storming out of the room and up the stairs, his footsteps loud and furious.

The room fell silent once more. Prussia blinked, his expression still vaguely confused, as if he couldn’t grasp what had just upset Romano so much. Germany, on the other hand, was as pale as he could be as he stared after the retreating figure.

Veneziano shook his head, regaining some of his composure, and immediately took off after his brother. “F-Fratello! Wait!” he called, his voice fading as he clumsily climbed the stairs, nearly tripping over his own feet in his rush.

Germany and Prussia were left alone. The blond finally turned to his older brother, his attempt at remaining calm clearly failing. “Drunk or not, you’re going to tell me was zum Teufel (what the hell) just happened!”

His older brother gave him a sideways glance, and Germany pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering under his breath… This was going to be a very long night.

Chapter Text

SLAM!

The sound of Romano slamming his door echoed through the house. Loud? Sure, but not unusual. The reason behind it, though, was anything but ordinary…

He and Prussia… kissed. No. Made out! Even worse! And while they were completely caught up in that, his brother and that other German bastard had come back early from their field trip! Romano glanced at his phone’s screen: 21:34 PM. Thirty whole minutes earlier than the 22:00 PM his brother had promised. Thirty minutes!

If only they’d stuck to the plan, he and Prussia would’ve stopped before they returned. Probably. Maybe. Hopefully. But no… fate decided to ruin his life. Now Romano was stuck wrestling with the memory of… of everything, his embarrassment mounting by the second.

Maybe this was for the best, though… right? Right? He groaned, running a hand down his flushed face. What if things had escalated? What if Germany and Veneziano had walked in on them? Romano would’ve died. Actually died.

Wait. Why was he even thinking about things escalating further?!

He leaned against the door, face buried in his hands, trying to steady the chaotic mess of his thoughts. But no matter how much he willed himself to calm down, the embarrassment wouldn’t let go. His heart pounded in his ears, his face burned hotter than ever, and the weight of the moment—humiliation, nervousness, whatever it was—refused to subside.

What now?

Would Prussia even remember? He’d been drinking, after all. Maybe he’d forget everything and pretend it never happened. That wouldn’t be too bad, except… except Romano would still be stuck with the memory. He’d probably avoid him for weeks… or force Veneziano to keep quiet. Germany wouldn’t say anything either; that wasn’t his style. At least that was a small relief…

But… what if Prussia did remember?

What if he’d had just enough alcohol to act recklessly tonight, but not enough to forget by morning? What if he wanted to… talk about it?

Oh, God. What would Romano even say? Tell him to forget it? Hide in his room for eternity? Or worse… what if they actually talked it out and… and came to a positive conclusion?

Romano’s breath hitched at the thought, his face somehow growing even redder. That would mean they’d… they’d…

Knock! Knock! Knock!

Suddenly, a loud, continuous knocking ripped the southern nation from his scattered thoughts, yanking him back to reality. He flinched. What was he even thinking about? Jesus Christ, he needed to get a hold of himself! Calm down first, then deal with everything else.

He took a shaky breath, trying to settle his racing thoughts, but the continuous knocking wasn’t helping... The noise grated on his already fragile nerves, and to make matters worse, he was still a little tipsy… definitely not ideal for keeping calm.

“Fratello! Please open the door!”

Romano frowned, recognizing his brother’s pleading voice through the racket. Great. He’d literally run out of the living room, making it obvious he wanted to be alone, yet Veneziano still couldn’t take the hint.

He didn’t answer. Maybe if he stayed quiet, Veneziano would give up and leave. Pressing himself firmly against the door, Romano waited.

But his brother didn’t stop. The knocking continued, and now the door handle rattled as Veneziano tried to open it.

“Come on! I just want to talk to you!” the younger Italian’s voice rang out, and to Romano’s horror, the door creaked open just slightly.

“Ah, cazzo!” Romano yelped, throwing his weight against the door to keep it shut. He forgot to lock it?!

“Romano!” Veneziano exclaimed, now pushing the door from the other side with surprising determination.

Romano twisted around, bracing himself against the door with both hands. “Go away, Veneziano!” he barked, his voice strained as he struggled to keep it closed. Why was this so exhausting?!

But Veneziano, as always, didn’t seem to grasp the concept of going away. The younger Italian continued to shove against the door, undeterred.

Romano huffed, becoming more irritated by the second. “You know you’re not stronger than me!” he snapped, though the strain in his voice betrayed him.

“I—uh—well, you’re not in great shape either!” Veneziano shot back from the other side, his voice defensive.

South Italy’s eyes narrowed, deeply offended. “See if I ever let you in my room again!” he hissed, his muscles burning as he kept shoving against the widening gap in the door.

For a brief moment, Veneziano considered jamming his hand or foot into the crack to force it open. But the risk of Romano slamming the door on him, and breaking something, made him reconsider. He needed a new strategy.

“I’m calling Germany to help me!” he announced, stepping back from the door.

Romano froze. That bastard!

“What?!” He flung the door open, glaring at his brother with a livid expression. “You—you little—! You always run to that dumb potato bastard when things don’t go your way!” He was ready to launch into a rant, but something stopped him… There was no sign that his brother had even thought about going to Germany—just a small, satisfied smile on his face. And then it hit him.

It was a trap.

Gah! He always fell for those! Damn his brother and his infuriating ability to make anything he said sound believable! Romano wanted to slam the door shut, to keep Veneziano out, but before he could act, his brother darted inside, slipping past him with ease.

Great. Just great.

“Cazzo!” Romano muttered, slamming the door with a frustrated growl, though it didn’t quite latch. He crossed his arms and turned his back on Veneziano, his face burning. “Great. My plan to be alone and die of embarrassment just went out the window, thanks to you…”

The younger Italian gave him a sympathetic look, though unease flickered in his expression. He stepped forward to close the door properly before hurrying to his brother’s side, his concern now evident. “Fratello… you can’t just lock yourself away every time you have a… problem…” he said, his voice soft but firm.

“Huh?!” Romano let out a loud, indignant noise. Veneziano? Lecturing him? “Look who’s talking! You’re always the first one to disappear when things go wrong!”

“That’s different!” Veneziano shot back, shaking his head. “I run away from scary things and scary people! That’s completely justifiable! But you…” He paused, giving Romano a strange, almost hesitant look.

Romano raised an eyebrow, his irritation mingling with confusion. “But me what?”

Veneziano fidgeted, clearly reluctant to finish. His expression twisted in discomfort, but finally, he blurted it out.

“You run away from… feelings.”

The older Italian pressed his lips into a thin line, a frown settling on his face. It was an attempt, albeit a poor one, to mask the way his cheeks had just turned fifty shades redder. “Feelings?!” he scoffed, though the crack in his voice betrayed him. “W-where’d you even get such a stupid idea?! Whatever you think you saw was just a… a stupid thing! A dumb thing that happened because of drinking… that’s all!” He waved his hand dismissively, but his eyes darted away, and the impatient stomping of his foot made it clear there was more to the story than he wanted to admit.

And there was.

Veneziano didn’t believe a word of it. His sad, empathetic expression, the one he always wore whenever emotions were involved, made that clear. Tilting his head, he pursed his lips, mirroring Romano’s expression but with an added note of disagreement. “Romano, I’m your brother. I might not be the smartest, but I can tell when something’s up with you…”

Romano shot him a quick, unsure glance before looking away again. Seeing the small crack in his brother’s defenses, Veneziano pressed on.

“You kissed Germany’s older brother.”

It wasn’t a question. It was a statement—blunt and to the point. Romano’s stomach churned as he bit his tongue.

“I know you wouldn’t do something like that if you hated him. Even if you’d had a drink or two.” Veneziano took a step closer. “I know you, Romano. When you hate someone, you make it very clear. You’re specific. You’re loud. You wouldn’t do something like that with someone you hated...”

The older Italian bit his tongue harder, turning his head even farther away, though he’d already twisted it as far as it could go.

“That’s why I panicked so much when I saw him… uh… on you…” North Italy continued, his voice quieter now. “At first, I thought he’d… forced you into something you didn’t want. But then Prussia said you acted first. And you didn’t deny it.” He hesitated for a moment, as if giving Romano a chance to interject, but when no rebuttal came, he went on. “That’s when I realized what really happened… and that’s why I’m saying it now: you have feelings for Prussia.”

Romano clenched his fists, his face burning. He wanted to argue, to snap back, to say anything, but no words came. Veneziano had him cornered, and worse still, he was right.

The younger Italian stepped to the side, angling himself into Romano’s line of sight. His concerned expression hadn’t wavered. “And, Romano,” he began gently, “you might not want to talk to me about it, and I get that… but it’s all so strange to me. I mean, I thought you hated Prussia. You definitely don’t like Germany, so I figured the same logic would apply for his older brother. And the way you act around him… it’s not… well, it’s not friendly at all. But for you to…” He trailed off, his hands fidgeting awkwardly before he finally continued. “For anyone to even think you might like him… it doesn’t add up.”

“You even told me a few days ago that you hated him,” Veneziano added, his voice quickening as he recalled. “I think I came to your room for coffee or something… uh, doesn’t matter why! The point is, how did this happen? How did your impression of him change so suddenly? And… why didn’t you tell me?”

Veneziano’s voice softened at the last question, his worried expression deepening into a pout. “I want to understand. And… you know you can always talk to me if something’s on your mind…” He sighed, drawing Romano’s full attention at last.

The annoyed look had vanished from his brother’s face, replaced with an expression of startled sympathy.

Noticing this, Veneziano offered a small smile. “Avanti, fratello maggiore, parlami…” (Come on, big brother, talk to me…). He opened his eyes wide, his expression earnest, silently pleading for his brother to confide in him.

Romano stared at him, his lips parted slightly in surprise. For once, he didn’t have a sharp retort. He wanted to frown, wanted to push back in annoyance, but… he had nothing to frown about.

Veneziano was right.

“Ah…”

Romano sighed, the strain of everything pressing against his chest. Taking a deep breath, he walked past Veneziano and toward the bed. His younger brother trailed behind him without hesitation, his movements quieter now, as if sensing the shift in Romano’s mood.

Romano sat at the edge of the bed, elbows hovering briefly as though he might lean forward, but he quickly abandoned the thought. Instead, he scooted back, pressing himself against the wall. His knees came up, legs pulled in close, arms wrapping around them as if to shield himself from the world—or maybe just from his own thoughts.

Veneziano watched silently before climbing onto the bed and mirroring his brother’s position.

They sat in silence for a long moment, their gazes fixed on the other side of the room. It wasn’t the awkward silence someone might feel when stranded with others. No, this silence was softer and more comfortable…

After another moment, South Italy finally spoke.

“I hate that you can practically read me like an open book… ugh.”

Veneziano blinked in surprise but smiled anyway. Romano huffed and lowered his head, clearly reluctant to keep going.

“And I hate that you’re… right…” He dragged out the last word, like admitting it physically pained him. There was a brief pause before he forced himself to continue. “I guess I… do… have…” He hesitated, pouting, but pushed through anyway. “…feelings for… that bastard.”

If Veneziano hadn’t been so close, he might not have caught the words his brother mumbled through clenched teeth. Poor fratello, he thought, recognizing how hard this was for him. But at least Romano was trying. Veneziano’s smile widened.

“That’s great!” he exclaimed before quickly correcting himself. “I mean—not that you having feelings for him is great—since, uh, you don’t look too happy about it! But it’s great that you’re admitting it!” He clapped his hands and nodded encouragingly.

Romano rolled his eyes. His brother was too much of a people pleaser. They’d have to work on that later. “I didn’t say it’s a bad thing…” he muttered, as if the words were being dragged out of him against his will. Which, in a way, they were—by himself.

Veneziano tilted his head. “Huh? But you acted—”

“It doesn’t matter how I acted!” Romano snapped, face burning. Clearly, he did not want to relive whatever had happened earlier. Veneziano took the hint and nodded.

“Well then… what’s the problem? Why’d you run off like that? Why didn’t you at least try to explain?” the younger Italian shifted a little closer, looking like he wanted to ask a hundred more questions but restrained himself. Romano appreciated that.

“I don’t know…” South Italy sighed, shoulders sagging. He glanced off to the side, debating whether to keep going, but since he’d already started… “I guess… I panicked. It’s not every day your brother and his boyfriend walk in on you…” He dragged a hand over his face as his cheeks flushed. “…kissing… your brother’s boyfriend’s brother…”

The words sounded so ridiculous out loud that even he had to pause. Veneziano blinked before giving him a hesitant look.

“And maybe I wouldn’t have panicked so much… if you hadn’t jumped to conclusions and started yelling things that just stressed me out more…” Romano muttered, shooting him a look. “You were more panicked than I was. And I think seeing you freak out made me freak out more…? God, I don’t even know…” He groaned and dropped his head onto his knees. Trying to explain something he barely understood himself was exhausting.

Veneziano reached out and patted his brother’s back, looking guilty. “Mi dispiace, fratello…” (I’m sorry, brother…) he murmured. “But—but! You have to understand where I’m coming from, too! It’s not every day you, uh… see your brother kissing your boyfriend’s brother…” He tripped over the words the same way Romano had, and that was enough to make his older brother chuckle.

Veneziano paused, then snorted at his own phrasing.

“That sounds weird when you put it like that…” Romano muttered with a small smile, nudging him.

“You said it first!” Veneziano shot back, laughing softly. But he was relieved—Romano’s mood had lifted, even if just a little.

They stood in silence for a moment. Veneziano leaned against his brother, and, for once, Romano didn’t pull away.

“Will you…” North Italy suddenly spoke up, though his voice wavered, like he wasn’t sure he should finish his thought.

“Hm?” his brother hummed, urging him to continue.

“Well…” Veneziano hesitated. “…Will you—I don’t know—do something about… this? I mean…” He fidgeted but, seeing that Romano wasn’t angry, took a breath and pressed on. “I think it’s obvious that Prussia likes you… and if you like him back… will you do something about it?”

Yeah… Romano had already thought about that—or, more accurately, panicked about it—when he first bolted from the room. There were plenty of possible outcomes, none of which he’d been able to wrap his head around. And besides, this didn’t just depend on him. Prussia had a say in it too. If the idiot even remembers anything… Romano let out a small huff.

Veneziano suddenly waved a hand dismissively. “W-what a stupid thing to say! I know! Why did I even say it?”

Romano blinked at the abrupt shift. “Uh…?”

“The way Prussia likes you isn’t how a person should like someone! Just because you’re physically attractive and have a beautiful country doesn’t mean that’s all there is to you! That’s such an objective way to see someone, and—” Veneziano cut himself off when he noticed Romano looking at him with a raised eyebrow. “…What?”

The older Italian shook his head and let out a small snort. “If you’d told me that a few days ago, I would’ve believed you. But…” His expression softened, and he turned away, suddenly shy.

Veneziano caught on instantly. “Huh? What? What did he do?” He shifted on the bed, now kneeling so he could face his brother directly.

“Ah…” Romano’s face turned pink. “Well… he said a lot of things…”

Veneziano’s eyes widened as his brother’s face got even redder. “A lot of things? Like what?” He poked Romano’s arm. “Like what, fratello?”

The southern nation groaned, clearly regretting bringing this up. “Uhhh… just… you know… things.”

“I don’t know.”

Romano pursed his lips, then spoke very quietly. “He said… he said he…”

Veneziano leaned in close.

“…He told me he… well… loves me…”

Veneziano’s reaction could not have been bigger. His eyes went wide, and then—

“WHAT?!”

Romano flinched. Great. Now the whole house knows. “Shhh! Don’t be so loud, idiot!”

Veneziano nodded quickly, but his excitement didn’t fade. He practically vibrated with energy, fists moving up and down in enthusiasm. “He loves you!” he repeated, quieter this time. “That’s great news—no, amazing news! That means I don’t have to worry about him just playing with your feelings! Grazie a Dio!”
Before Romano could react, his brother tackled him in an enthusiastic hug.

“H-hey, you’re choking me!” Romano yelped, struggling to push him off.

“I’m so happy for you!”

The dark-brunet’s face burned. “Get off me, idiot! And what the hell are you even happy for?! It’s not like me and him are anything!”

Veneziano, ignoring him entirely, flopped onto the bed and propped his head in his hands, legs kicking behind him like an overly excited schoolgirl. “Did he say what he loves about you? Did he confess romantically? Oh, you have to tell me everything!”

Romano groaned, burying his face in his hands.

“Please, please, please!” Veneziano pleaded, still kicking his feet.

Romano bit the inside of his cheek, weighing his options. Finally, with a heavy sigh, he muttered. “Fine…”

“Yupiii!”

.
.
.

Downstairs, the atmosphere was far quieter than in the Italians' room. Before addressing the issue at hand, Germany had brought his brother a large jug of water, hoping to flush out some of the alcohol and clear his head. Prussia drank it. He was still a bit hazy, but at least he wasn’t staring blankly at random objects, completely out of it.

Germany took his time before bringing up the subject again. Things had been far too chaotic for his liking. He paced the room, occasionally glancing at his brother before finally settling on the couch with a tired exhale. Prussia raised an eyebrow but didn’t get a chance to ask what was wrong before Germany spoke.

“Can you talk normally now?” the younger German asked, his stern expression making it clear he wasn’t in the mood for nonsense.

Prussia made a vague gesture—somewhere between yes and no. Not ideal, Germany thought, but good enough.

“Okay… then start by telling me what in the world you did.” he pressed, furrowing his brows.

Prussia narrowed his eyes, his expression hovering somewhere between boredom and mild amusement. “I already told you,” he said, sinking further into the cushions as if he’d had enough of the conversation. “I wanted to put myself out there, had a little drink for encouragement, and—well, Romano responded positively to what I had to say.”

A smirk tugged at his lips as the memory surfaced. “He did kiss me.”

Germany sighed, shaking his head. That explained nothing. “Right. Sure. But if that’s true,” he shot his brother a pointed look, urging him to be more specific. “then why did Romano run off like the British army had just shown up at his door?”

Prussia didn’t seem to catch on immediately. Maybe it was the alcohol still in his system, or maybe it was just him. Hard to say.

He shrugged. “You’re asking the wrong guy, West. How should I know?” He paused, considering something for a moment before adding. “Though, you know… maybe it had something to do with you and little Italy barging in like that.”

He gave his younger brother a look that all but pinned the blame squarely on him and Veneziano. And, honestly, it’s not like he was wrong. The couple was to blame for the older Italian’s outburst…

Germany frowned at the insinuation. “We did not barge in.” he corrected Prussia with a scowl. “It took Italy a good few seconds to open the door. Did you not hear the handle rattling?”

Prussia shook his head, intending to make it clear that no, he had not heard any rattling—only to immediately regret it as a fresh wave of dizziness hit him. He pressed a hand to his temple and slumped further into the couch, trying to steady himself. It took him a moment to gather his thoughts, but when he finally spoke, his voice still carried that insufferable cockiness.
“Yeah… no. Guess we were too into—”

Germany cut him off before he could finish. “Okay, yeah, I get it. Don’t finish that thought.” His expression twisted into something vaguely uncomfortable. The unfortunate image of his brother leaning over Veneziano’s brother was already burned into his brain, and he had no desire to revisit it.

Prussia just shrugged, unconcerned. Maybe a part of him did know why Germany didn’t want him to say it out loud, but he wasn’t in the mood to torment his little brother. Not while he himself was still feeling like this. Any other day, though? Absolutely.

“So,” Germany began, fixing his brother with a serious look. “you plan to do… what, now that… that happened?”

His tone made it obvious he was bracing for some disaster. Maybe he was already dreading how Veneziano would react—angry that he’d let his brother ‘harm’ his brother. Or maybe he was actually worried about Prussia and Romano themselves, about whatever mess this situation could turn into.

“You might be serious about this, but is Romano?” Ah. So it was the second option.

Prussia lifted his head, glancing at his sibling in mild surprise before shifting on the couch, removing his hand from where it had been propping him up. “Well…!” He started, then paused, mentally replaying the events before Germany and Veneziano had barged in, making sure he gave an honest answer.

After a small nod—careful not to make himself dizzier—he finally declared. “West, he reciprocated my feelings.” His voice was steady, confident.

“Well… halfway.”

He chuckled. “I told him I love him.”

Germany blinked. “That’s… a bit much for a first confession. Shouldn’t you have started with liking? ‘I like you’?”

Not that he was one to talk—his own confession to Veneziano had been far more chaotic.

Prussia pulled a thoughtful face before waving a dismissive hand. “I just said what was on my mind… or, well, I wasn’t really thinking at all.” He let out a dry chuckle, fully aware of how bold he’d been with all that wine in his system. “Still not feeling great, but lucky for me, being a nation means I bounce back fast!”

To prove his point, he started to stand—only for a fresh wave of nausea to hit him. He quickly abandoned the effort, settling for a thumbs-up and a cheeky grin instead.

Germany sighed, unimpressed but not surprised. He chose not to comment, focusing instead on his brother’s earlier words.

“What do you mean by ‘halfway’?”

“Hm?” Prussia blinked in confusion.

Germany let out a loud exhale. He wasn’t fond of repeating himself, but given his brother’s current state, he let it slide. “You said he reciprocated your feelings halfway. What did you mean by that?”

“Oh! That.” Prussia scratched the back of his head, clearly reluctant to explain but pressing on anyway. “Yeah, so… I told him I’m in love with him, and he kinda freaked out. Thought I was about to get un-awesomely rejected.”

He cringed at the memory—specifically at the part where he’d all but collapsed onto Romano’s shoulder in what had to be ‘the most dramatic moment of the night’. “Wow. Okay. West, remind me to never drink two bottles in one go again.” He shook his head as if scolding himself, though it was obvious he wasn’t about to follow that advice anytime soon.

Germany raised a brow. “Why? What did you do?”

At that, Prussia averted his gaze, his usual confidence faltering just a bit. He crossed his arms in an exaggerated X. “Doesn’t matter.”

Germany rolled his eyes but let it go. He knew better than to push.

“Anyway,” Prussia continued, “after that, he went on about how love takes time and all that. And that he—”

“Seems reasonable.” Germany cut in.

Prussia shot him a glare. “Yeah, okay, love expert, stop interrupting me.”

Germany just sighed, deciding it wasn’t worth arguing. “Just continue.”

“Right. So, he explained all that, but—he did say he likes me.”

Germany almost couldn’t believe it. He knew Romano. He knew Prussia. It already seemed improbable that Romano could tolerate him, but something to like? That didn’t seem likely at all.

“Like-like?” he asked, tilting his head slightly.

Prussia frowned, clearly not amused that his own brother was so doubtful of his charm. “Yes, West. Like-like.” He nodded, his expression unusually serious.

That actually surprised Germany. His brother wasn’t serious about much.

“And after that,” Prussia went on, his rare serious streak still lingering, “he complained about me being drunk and said I wouldn’t remember anything—which, not true, by the way. Then I told him about…”

He stopped abruptly. His expression twisted, and he groaned, pressing a hand to his forehead like he’d just recalled something horribly embarrassing. Which, knowing him, was probably the case.

“Ugh… Yeah, no. I really won’t be drinking that much in one sitting again.”

Germany narrowed his eyes. “If you’re not going to tell me what you did, don’t complain to me either.”

Prussia let out a small sigh, amused. He straightened up slightly before finally admitting. “I just told him that I’m… not good at feelings and stuff.”

That was only half of it. Germany knew it, but he let it slide—he usually couldn’t get this much out of his brother anyway.

“Okay. Go on.”

“Right, so after that, I came to an awesome conclusion,” Prussia declared with a proud grin. “And I wanted to seal the deal—if you know what I mean.” He shot his younger brother a smug look.

Germany, however, just stared at him blankly, clearly unimpressed.

West’s got no sense of humor, Prussia mused before continuing. “But I didn’t even get to ask! Older Italy took matters into his own hands and kissed me!” He gestured to himself dramatically.

Germany’s eyebrows lifted slightly in surprise.

“Yeah, I know! I was hella surprised too! And then, well… you know the rest.” He waved a hand dismissively before settling more comfortably into the couch, trying to stave off the lingering dizziness.

Germany was quiet for a moment, mulling over his words. Despite the fact that this was Prussia they were talking about, he couldn’t actually find much fault in what he’d done. He tapped his chin thoughtfully before finally looking back up.

“That all seems… reasonable.”

Prussia nodded in agreement, pleased to see his brother actually taking his side for once. “Right?”

“You weren’t rude, you didn’t push him into anything, and you gave him space to process his feelings.” the younger german noted, listing everything based on what he’d heard.

But then, his expression darkened slightly as a small frown formed. So why had Romano reacted that way?

If Prussia had told him he got both of them drunk, jumped on Romano, and kissed him while the Italian was too out of it to understand what was happening—then, yeah, Germany would completely understand why Romano had bolted. Hell, he probably would’ve thrown his brother over the Berlin Wall himself.

But that wasn’t the case.

Prussia had been respectful. A confession, drinking for courage rather than out of recklessness, and, most importantly—Romano had kissed him first. That meant something.
Germany just couldn’t wrap his head around Romano’s outburst.

“I don’t get why Romano was so upset.” he admitted, his thoughtful expression lingering.

Prussia tilted his head. “Hmm.” He hummed in thought before glancing at his brother again. “Probably because you and Veneziano walked in on us.” He gestured vaguely in Germany’s direction.

Germany frowned slightly, clearly not convinced.
Prussia sighed and leaned back. “Look, from what I’ve seen, Romano gets super embarrassed in awkward situations. And he lashes out, probably because he doesn’t want people to see how embarrassed he is.”

The younger german raised an eyebrow, a little surprised at how well his brother had picked up on that. He really does like him, huh?

Prussia tapped his fingers against the armrest, thinking. “So, put him in this situation—” He made a loose circular motion with his hand. “—making out with his brother’s boyfriend’s brother, only for said brother and boyfriend to walk in on him?” He let out a short laugh. “Yeah. That’s awkward as hell.”

Germany considered it. It did make sense. Yet, he still looked a little unsure.

Prussia caught the hesitation and leaned forward slightly, his usual lighthearted tone dropping into something more serious. “But you can trust me, West. I didn’t do anything stupid—if that’s what you’re worried about. And—” He held up a finger. “—I am serious about this. If that’s the other thing you’re worried about.”

Germany blinked, surprised by how easily Prussia had read his thoughts. But then again, Prussia had practically raised him. It wasn’t that surprising.

“I’ve told you before…” Prussia went on, voice unusually sincere. “I’m not looking for a good time. I want… a real relationship with Romano. The kind of thing you and Italy have.”

Germany caught the faint tinge of pink on his brother’s face, the uncharacteristically shy expression that replaced his usual arrogance. It was so obvious.

“I want that with him.” the older german admitted, quieter now. “I’ve thought about it for a hell of a long time… since their last two visits…” He smiled—not his usual cocky grin, but something so genuine that Germany felt his own stoic expression soften slightly.

Prussia glanced at his brother again, and when he saw that he actually believed him, his smile widened. “I can’t have you thinking poorly of me, you know. I’m your awesome big brother, after all!”

Forgetting about his dizziness, he straightened up and leaned toward his younger brother, ruffling his neatly combed hair with a grin.

Normally, Germany would’ve shoved him away and scolded him for messing up his gelled hair. But right now, that didn’t really matter. What did matter was the relief settling in his chest—the reassurance that his brother had been honest with him, that he wasn’t just playing around with Romano’s feelings, that he was serious about committing to something as important as a relationship.

It had been a long time since he’d seen Prussia so determined about something like this. And, in a way… it was kind of nice.

Exhaling softly, he ran a hand through his hair to fix what little damage had been done, then glanced at Prussia. “I guess I can’t argue with that.”

Prussia grinned triumphantly, giving him a few hearty pats on the back before flashing a thumbs-up. “There we go!”

The younger german let out a short breath, but then muttered. “Let’s just hope we didn’t ruin your chances by walking in…”

Prussia’s smile immediately dropped into a look of pure dismay.

Germany quickly waved him off. “Relax. Veneziano’s probably talking some sense into his brother.” He paused, then added under his breath. “I hope.”

That seemed to be enough to reassure his brother. He sat up straighter, raising a fist in the air. “I’m counting on little Italy to save my future relationship!”

Germany shook his head, but this time, there was a small smile on his face.

.
.
.

Now, let’s see just how much ‘sense’ Veneziano was actually talking into his brother…

“GAH!” The younger Italian muffled a gasp, nearly jumping off the bed in shock. “YOU pulled on a door that said PUSH?!” he exclaimed dramatically.

Across from him, Romano nodded vigorously.

“That sounds like something I would do, not you!”

“I know!” Romano groaned, burying his face in his hands. “And then—I went ahead and fell to the floor like a ball!”

“No!” Veneziano gasped, clutching a pillow.

“Yes! Ugh! And the bastard had the nerve to pick me up and put me back on my feet! I literally died in my mind, like, seven times!” Romano peeked at his brother through his fingers before finally dragging his hands down his face in pure mortification. “That’s why I ran into the house like that!”

“Ooohhh! That’s what that was about!” the younger Italian sat up straighter, looking enlightened. “I was so confused!” His expression then shifted into one of deep thought. “Wait… but didn’t Prussia follow you? I know I saw him bolt upstairs after you!”

Romano stiffened, turning a deeper shade of red. “…Yes, he did.”

Veneziano let out a delighted shriek. “No!”

“Yes!”

“Tell me! Tell me!” the northern nation all but melted into the pillow, eyes sparkling with curiosity.

Romano rolled his eyes, but it was obvious he wanted to spill. He let out a small exhale, making it seem like he was reluctant—even though he wasn’t.

“…Fine.”

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The Germanic brothers waited, eyes flicking toward the stairs every so often, but neither Veneziano nor Romano emerged.

“How long does it take to ‘figure stuff out,’ anyway?” Prussia muttered, tilting his head as he chugged more water.

Germany exhaled. “Apparently, a long time.”

“Guess so.”

Silence settled between them again. Now that they had properly addressed the issue at hand, neither seemed to know what to say. After a beat, Prussia glanced at his brother and blurted out. “So… how was your trip to Munich?”

Germany shot him a look—he wasn’t blind to how obviously Prussia was just fishing for something to talk about—but since he didn’t have a better topic himself, he went with it. “It was fine. Not much traffic.”

“Ah. Good, good.” Prussia nodded as if that were groundbreaking information.

“…Mhm.”

Another pause.

“…Man, we suck at small talk.”

Germany sighed. “Yes. Yes, we do.”

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“And then… I was in the restaurant, and I told him it was obvious we didn’t like each other—even though in my head, I was thinking the complete opposite!” Romano threw his hands up in exasperation, practically shaking his brother to emphasize his frustration. “And I could not understand why he looked so sad! But now it actually makes sense—I basically rejected him without realizing it!” He pointed to himself, as if making it clear he was the one to blame.

Veneziano gasped. “Fratello, you really need to get better at reading social cues!” He shook his head, looking thoroughly scandalized.

Romano narrowed his eyes, though there was no real bite behind it. He was too deep in reliving his disastrous night to be truly annoyed—but he still had to keep up appearances.

“Oh, don’t you start lecturing me about social cues!” he shot back, pointing at his brother accusingly.

Veneziano just giggled, shaking his head before waving a hand for him to continue. “Okay, okay! But what happened after that? What did he say?”

Romano hesitated, sifting through the memory. When it clicked, he gave his brother a look that all but screamed ’you’re not gonna believe this'.

Veneziano gasped again, practically beaming with curiosity. “What?! What happened??”

Romano sighed—not out of exhaustion, but as if bracing himself. “It gets even more embarrassing…”

His brother shot him a ’well, now you have to tell me’ look.

Romano groaned. “Okay, so…”

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Germany and Prussia had moved to the kitchen long ago. Prussia’s headache from the alcohol was still very much present—chugging water helped, but only to a point. His brother had suggested they eat something, even though it was late, since food might ease Prussia’s headache. Plus, Germany was hungry too, so it was a win-win.

Prussia sat slouched at the table, head resting on his arms as he lazily watched whatever his brother was doing.

“What time is it?” he asked, shifting slightly to sit up as Germany set something down in front of him.

“Almost eleven.” the younger german responded, placing cold cuts and cheeses, still in their packaging, onto the table before turning back toward the fridge. There should be some pain relievers in the fridge… somewhere…

Prussia groaned dramatically. “Augh…”

Germany rolled his eyes.

“I’m starting to think older Italy changed his mind about me…” Prussia muttered. “Maybe he’s listing all the reasons they should leave the country as soon as possible…”

Germany blinked, caught off guard. “Huh?” He set a glass of water and a small white pill beside his brother before sitting down.

The albino let out a heavy sigh. “They’re taking too long. It’s making me anxious. Or maybe I’m just too drunk and out of it. I don’t know…” He huffed, then grabbed the pill and washed it down in one gulp.

Germany was a little surprised—Prussia wasn’t usually the type to stress over something like this. But then again, if he really did like… no, love Romano, then it made sense. If Veneziano had shut himself away like this, he knew he’d be just as restless.

“Calm down,” he said, nudging Prussia’s arm to stop him from sulking. “It’s probably nothing worth worrying about.”

Prussia grumbled something under his breath but still reached for some of the food.

Germany, meanwhile, stacked every type of meat and cheese onto a slice of bread before taking a massive bite. “Besides,” he added, mouth half full, “they’re Italian. Italians talk a lot and don’t like leaving out details. Romano’s probably just telling his brother everything that happened tonight in excruciating detail.”

Prussia ran a hand through his hair, sighing again before grabbing a random slice of meat and popping it into his mouth.

“…I guess.”

He didn’t sound entirely convinced, but at least he was eating.

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“And… yeah, that’s about it. Now we’re here.” The southern nation finally concluded, finishing his account of everything that had happened with the white-haired German since they’d arrived in Germany. He stole a quick glance at his phone. Nearly midnight.

Wow. He and Veneziano had really been talking for a while. It had been some time since they’d had one of these late-night conversations—probably because Veneziano had been spending his nights with his potato-loving boyfriend... It was nice. Comforting, even.

“You know…” Veneziano’s voice cut into his thoughts. Romano turned to see his younger brother grinning at him, eyes full of mischief. With a small laugh, Veneziano added. “From the way you’re describing it, Prussia was actually kind of romantic with you.”

Romano felt his face heat up and immediately shoved his brother’s shoulder. “No, he was not!” he snapped, scowling—though there was no real bite to it. “He was just stupid and pushy!”

Veneziano snickered at his reaction but soon quieted, his expression softening into something more thoughtful. Something… understanding. Maybe even a little emotional.

Romano noticed the shift.

“Fratello,” Veneziano murmured. “I’m really glad you get to experience this kind of thing too.”

Romano frowned. “This kind of thing?” What was he talking about? Being ridiculously embarrassed?

Veneziano just smiled, warm and full of meaning.

“Love.”

Love…?

Romano’s face warmed, his eyes widening just slightly—just enough to be noticeable. He glanced away, gripping his phone tighter as a small frown formed on his forehead.

What was with everyone insinuating such things? First that white-haired bastard, now his brother… Love takes time! Was he the only one thinking rationally here?

He knew what love was—at least in the way that mattered. He loved his brother. That was a given. Family was family, damn it. He loved the people who raised him too. But loving someone outside of that? That didn’t seem probable… especially in such a short time.

His gaze flicked to the bed sheets as he thought.

Prussia.

Romano knew he liked the idiot—annoying as he was. He’d admitted that much already. He liked the way Prussia just… was. The way he never got mad at Romano’s sharp tongue. If anything, he seemed to enjoy provoking him, pushing just to get a rise out of him. And when he did, he’d laugh, smirking in that smug, insufferable way of his.

God, that annoying face…

But Prussia never treated him like he was lesser—not in comparison to Veneziano, not in comparison to anyone. Maybe because he understood. Also having a brother like his own…

And, fine, Romano liked the way Prussia looked at him too. Those red eyes—like pools of blood, yet somehow not frightening. Not to him. He really liked Prussia’s eyes. Damn it, why did he keep thinking about them?

So… yeah. He liked the bastard. That much was clear.

But love?

They’d known each other for a long time. Romano had met him when he was younger, but never really talked to him. Back then, he saw him as a stuck-up, power-hungry prick (which, to be fair, he still was—but that was beside the point). He hadn’t cared for him at all.

That changed when Veneziano started hanging around Germany. Suddenly, Romano found himself stuck with both Germans more often than he liked. His opinion of Prussia hadn’t improved at first—he was still an arrogant narcissist who, given the chance, would probably try to conquer the world all over again. Maybe that’s why Romano had resented him so much. That, and… the thought of Prussia influencing his Italy was horrifying. Bad food. Stiff attitudes. No, no, no—not happening!

Yet despite Romano’s endless complaints, Prussia never took them to heart. If anything, he seemed amused. He kept coming back, unfazed, like a moth too stupid to realize the flame would burn it.

And, okay, maybe they did spend a lot of time together. Especially after Veneziano started dating the potato bastard. It often ended up being just the two of them, stuck together because their brothers ditched them. Romano never let Prussia forget how much his company sucked, but the idiot never seemed to mind. He just kept talking to him, teasing, existing—until, at some point, Romano started being… decent in return.

Wow. Yeah. They really did spend a lot of time together.

And now that he thought about it… maybe he’d started liking Prussia long before this trip. Maybe way before. He just hadn’t seen it. Or maybe he hadn’t let himself see it. Maybe it took this trip to finally strip away whatever stubbornness kept him from admitting the truth.

That he didn’t hate Prussia.

That he actually liked him.

His company, his remarks, his everything.

But… love?

Love took time, right? And yet, as much as he wanted to use that argument, he couldn’t anymore. Because, really… hadn’t they already spent enough time together?

So what did that mean? Had he already reached the answer?

And if Veneziano, who knew him better than anyone, listened to all of this and came to the conclusion that Romano was in love with Prussia…

Then… did that mean he truly was?

Romano swallowed hard, his face still warm. He scowled, more at himself than anything, and gave his brother another nudge, lighter this time.

“Tch, you’ve been spending too much time with your potato-loving boyfriend…”

Veneziano just laughed, completely unfazed. “Maybe, but that doesn’t mean I’m wrong.”

Romano didn’t answer. He wasn’t sure if he could.

His brother shot him a knowing glance. “I’m just saying…” He patted Romano’s shoulder a few times—whether as comfort or a warning for what he was about to say next, Romano wasn’t sure.

“Hey, Romano?” Little Italy asked, still clinging to his brother’s shoulder.

“Hm?” the older Italian hummed.

“Are you… going to…”

Romano already knew what Veneziano was trying to ask. It was written all over his face.

So he saved him the trouble.

“I… might.” he mumbled, cheeks red.

Might. He might actually consider it—consider doing something about this whole situation with Prussia. Something like… what Veneziano had with Germany.

Veneziano’s eyes widened for a second, surprised, but his expression quickly melted into one of pure happiness. “I’m happy for you, fratello.” His voice wasn’t loud or overly excited—just soft. Genuine.

Romano wanted to roll his eyes, but he couldn’t bring himself to. Instead, he let Veneziano hug him again, listening as he chirped about how funny it was that they both ended up falling for Germanic nations.

Romano huffed. He couldn’t exactly disagree.

They stayed like that for a moment until Veneziano suddenly pulled away, his usual energy returning—though still a little subdued.

“Fratello!” he exclaimed, as if he’d just received divine inspiration from Grandpa Rome himself.

Romano blinked. “What?”

“I totally forgot to tell you about my trip!”

“Oh—right, you went to that big art museum…?” Romano perked up slightly, actually a bit interested. He did love art, after all.

Veneziano nodded excitedly. “Yes! Yes! The sculptures were so beautiful—wait…!” He started fumbling around in his pockets before finally pulling out his phone. “I’ll show you some photos!”

Romano smirked. Like hell he was going to say no to that.

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After cleaning up in the kitchen, Prussia crashed into his brother’s bed and fell asleep almost instantly. The pill he’d taken must have made him drowsy, and given that his headache was still lingering, it was probably for the best.

Germany, on the other hand, stayed up a little longer. He wanted to wait for Veneziano to come back downstairs and share the predicament… but even as the clock struck midnight, the light-haired Italian was nowhere to be seen.

That made Germany uneasy. He was worried for his brother, of course—but also for himself. He didn’t want to be the reason Romano shut Prussia out, leaving him hurt…

After pacing around the living room for a few minutes, he finally decided to take matters into his own hands. Exiting the living area, he climbed the stairs to the second floor. When he reached the room assigned to Romano, he stopped in front of the closed door.

He didn’t usually hesitate. But this time, knocking felt oddly difficult.

Still, he wasn’t one to back down.

He rapped his knuckles against the door.

A moment later, he heard some shuffling from inside before a soft click sounded, and the door cracked open. Veneziano peeked through the gap, his expression weary yet confused. But when he saw who was standing there, his face brightened with a smile.

“Germany…!” he let out, followed by a yawn.

Germany felt a small wave of relief. Veneziano seemed to be in good spirits, despite looking like he was about to collapse from exhaustion. That was a good sign… at least for his brother’s sake.

Returning the smile, Germany asked. “Is everything okay with…” He glanced past Veneziano into the room. Romano was slouched against the wall, nearly dozing off, but still awake enough to give him a confused look.

Veneziano turned his head, following Germany’s gaze, then turned back and let out a small laugh. “Of course! Everything is fantastico! I was just showing Romano some photos of the pretty sculptures we saw at that big museum!” he said cheerfully, though his exhaustion was obvious.

Germany furrowed his brows. “That’s… that’s great, but I was referring to…” He gestured slightly toward Romano, trying to clarify.

Veneziano blinked, then quickly caught on. “Oh! That!” He laughed again, placing his hands on Germany’s shoulders before suddenly pulling him into a hug. “Poor Germany…” he murmured, his words slightly slurred with sleep.

Germany stiffened in confusion. “Uh?”

Veneziano giggled. “You always worry too much! Everything is perfect, like I said before!” And with that, he kissed Germany’s cheek before hopping back to the doorway and clinging to the edge. “You should go to bed! It’s really late! And don’t worry about me—I’ll stay with my brother tonight!”

Germany blinked again, still processing. “Huh?” he let out.

Before he could get another word in, Veneziano jumped up and gave him a quick kiss—this time on the lips—before retreating back into the room.

“Buona notte, Germany!” he chirped, then promptly shut the door.

Germany stood there, staring at the closed door, hand drifting to scratch the back of his head.

What… just happened?

Maybe he was too tired to make sense of it. Maybe it was fine. Or maybe Veneziano had just been too tired to explain properly. Either way, he’d told Germany not to worry—and to get some sleep.

The blond sighed and made his way back downstairs, where he found Prussia still sprawled across his bed, snoring. Normally, he would have scolded him for sleeping in his outside clothes… but Germany was still fully dressed too, so he couldn’t really complain.

With a tired grunt, he shoved his brother over to make space, then collapsed onto the mattress.

Even as exhaustion pulled him under, his thoughts lingered on Veneziano’s words.

Everything would be fine in the morning… right?

Well, at least he hoped so.

Chapter Text

At some point in the night, the two Italians had drifted off, with Veneziano still in the middle of showing Romano the countless photos he’d taken at the Bavarian National Museum. Compared to the ever-worrying Germans, they seemed much more at ease—well, at least Veneziano did. Romano’s mood could shift by morning when he actually had to deal with his problems.

It wasn’t terribly late when a few knocks at the door stirred them from sleep. Romano was the first to flutter his eyes open, muttering a slurred curse under his breath before shutting them again, already slipping back into unconsciousness. But whoever was knocking wasn’t about to let them off that easily. Another knock followed, this time accompanied by a voice.

“Italy? Are you up?”

Ugh… Romano barely held back a groan. Of course, it had to be Germany. The last person he wanted to see first thing in the morning.

He cracked an eye open and glanced at his brother, who was still curled up beside him, clutching the second pillow like it might sprout legs and run away. Completely dead to the world.

Romano gave him a lazy nudge—about as much effort as he could muster at this hour. When that failed, he grumbled and tried again, this time adding words.

“Veneziano… get up, you bastard. Your potato-loving boyfriend’s at the door…” He whispered the last part, pushing him a little harder.

Veneziano barely stirred, mumbling something utterly incomprehensible before rolling onto his stomach and promptly dozing off again.

“Veneziano…!” Romano hissed, though he was too exhausted to put any real bite into it. Instead, he weakly swatted his brother’s head before collapsing right back down beside him.

Honestly, Veneziano had the right idea… Romano began to drift off again as well—but, of course, peace and quiet were never an option in the Germans’ house. That irritatingly stoic voice called out once more, followed by another round of knocking, denying the elder Italian the rest he deserved.

“Italy!” A sigh. Then a brief silence, like Germany was debating whether to say something else. And sure enough, he did.

“Romano? Are you awake?”

Romano wanted to suffocate himself with the pillow. What in the world did this German want from him? He just wanted to sleep… And his damn brother…! Why couldn’t he wake up and deal with his boyfriend for once?

“Ugh… I literally hate you…” Romano mumbled through clenched teeth as he forced himself upright, dragging his legs over the edge of the bed. He was so tired…

With a sluggish shake of his head, he pushed himself to his feet, taking his sweet, sweet time crossing the room. It felt like the hardest thing in the world, but eventually, he opened the door. And, unsurprisingly, he found himself face-to-face with Germany. Even with his usual stiff posture, the blond looked oddly worried.

Romano didn’t meet his gaze. Instead, he scanned the hallway… Hm. He wasn’t sure what exactly he was looking for, but… Prussia’s still asleep? A part of him had expected to see the albino banging on the door, demanding answers about last night. Romano narrowed his tired eyes slightly. Or maybe… he was awake and just not coming? The thought crept in, and with it, a strange feeling of disappointment…

He’d figured Prussia forgetting everything would be a good outcome. But now, standing here, the idea left a bitter taste in his mouth.

A cleared throat snapped him back to reality. Right. Germany was still standing there.

The southern nation exhaled heavily before shooting him a glare. “What?” He leaned into the doorframe, still too sleepy to stand properly.

Germany gave him a look—one that clearly meant ‘I’m trying not to piss you off’, though honestly, just his face irritated Romano, so it wasn’t working. He appreciated the effort, though.

“Sorry if I woke you,” Germany said, glancing past him into the room. “Veneziano’s still asleep?”

The sight of his younger brother sprawled across the bed, now completely hogging it, answered that question well enough. Romano didn’t bother responding.

Germany pressed on. “You want to wake him up and come downstairs to eat? It’s already pushing ten.”

Romano let out a small sigh, thinking. A cappuccino did sound good right about now… But then again, why should he listen to Germany? What was there to gain?

Then a thought struck him.

Wait… Germany would know if Prussia was awake. And if he was, then that meant—if anyone could tell him whether Prussia actually remembered what happened last night, it was this guy…

Instead of answering the question, Romano asked his own.

“Is…” He hesitated, his stomach twisting at the thought that Germany probably knew exactly what had happened last night. Embarrassing. Humiliating, even. But still, it was better to have some idea of what he was walking into than to charge in blindly and die of sheer mortification. So, he pressed on.

“Uhm… your brother…”

At that, Germany’s expression shifted—surprise? Maybe even relief? Like some weight had just been lifted off his shoulders. Romano wasn’t sure. He was too focused on staring at the floor instead of Germany’s face.

“…Is he awake?”

A small pause. Long enough for Romano to deeply regret asking. God, he should just slam the door in Germany’s face and pretend this never happened. He wasn’t the type to ask about other people... Caring how someone was doing, especially that idiot, practically spelled out his feelings in big, bold letters!

And Germany had already figured things out. That was the worst part. Between whatever he’d witnessed (God, what a horrible memory) and whatever Prussia had probably told him, there was no point in pretending.

At last, Germany answered.

“Ah, no,” He sighed. “He’s still in bed. I figured I’d let him stay there a little longer. He had a bad headache yesterday.” His tone was almost reassuring, like he expected Romano to care about that.

Romano hummed. Of course he has a headache. The idiot had downed so much alcohol, it was a miracle he even had a functioning brain left…

The southern nation shifted against the door, pondering for a moment. So… Prussia was still asleep. Veneziano was still asleep. No immediate reason to go downstairs and suffer through awkward breakfast conversation with Germany… He glanced up at the blond, who gave him a confused look.

But then… his eyes drifted back to his brother, an idea slowly forming in his mind. If he left Germany to wake up Veneziano, he’d have the whole kitchen to himself for a bit. And knowing his brother, it’d take forever to get him out of bed. A few minutes of peace and quiet sounded pretty damn nice.

He looked at Germany again and waved a hand over his shoulder. “Wake Veneziano up. I’ll make coffee.”

The blond looked mildly surprised—probably because Romano hadn’t slammed the door in his face or thrown an insult his way—but he didn’t question it. He simply nodded and stepped inside to wake his sleeping boyfriend while Romano slipped out, heading for the kitchen.

Well, not immediately. A quick stop at the bathroom was necessary to wash up a bit—maybe even rinse away the lingering sleepiness. And he sure took his time with it before finally making his way downstairs.

Entering the living area, he headed straight for the kitchen and got to work brewing some coffee.

As he waited, he checked the fridge. No more pastries. Tch. He wasn’t about to settle for bread with cheese and meat like the Germans would, nor was he particularly hungry for anything that heavy… Maybe he should head to that little Italian coffee shop nearby and pick up something fresh. For himself and his brother… and, fine, maybe for the Germans too—if they could even appreciate real pastries…

Thinking of the Germans… Romano wandered back into the living area.

Prussia wasn’t on the couch.

He frowned. He’d assumed the idiot had slept there, considering his bedroom door had been wide open when Romano passed by earlier. The bed hadn’t looked slept in, and Germany had just said his brother was still asleep. But if Prussia hadn’t been in his own room or here…

Romano’s gaze snapped to the hallway, landing on the slightly ajar door of Germany’s room—the one Veneziano usually crashed in.

…Huh?

For a moment, he just stood there, blinking. Then, curiosity got the better of him, and he walked over. He placed a hand on the doorknob, pushing it open just enough to peek inside.

The room was dim, the blinds drawn. Romano’s eyes adjusted, and—ah.

There he was.

Prussia lay on one side of the bed, one hand tucked under his head, the other gripping an extra pillow. Despite his obnoxious personality, he actually slept pretty neatly. Unlike Veneziano, who—God, how did Germany survive getting kicked in the face every night? Romano knew the struggle all too well…

He hesitated at the doorway, staring a little longer than necessary. Then, before he could think better of it, he stepped inside.

What he didn’t consider was that this was also the room his messy little brother was staying in.
Not even four steps in, Romano’s foot caught on Veneziano’s suitcase—carelessly tossed beside the bed.

“Shit—!”

He barely managed to catch himself on the mattress, then immediately ducked, hiding out of sight. His heart pounded as he squeezed his eyes shut. Damn it! That had to have woken him up!

“Veneziano…!” Romano hissed through clenched teeth.

Still crouched, he slowly, cautiously peeked over the bed’s edge.

Prussia was still out like a light.

Romano exhaled a deep sigh of relief before pushing himself up. He carefully stepped over the damn suitcase this time and made his way around to the other side of the bed, where the albino was sleeping.

His eyes squinted in the dim lighting, adjusting again.

Prussia looked… peaceful. Completely unbothered. His white hair was a messy, fluffy disaster. Romano blinked at the sight. He frowned, suddenly aware of the warmth creeping up his face. No. Nope. None of that. He took a small step back.

I should go check on the coffee…

The thought crossed his mind, but it was quickly replaced by another.

Does Prussia remember what happened last night?

His frown deepened. He did not want to be the one to bring it up. He wasn’t going to be the desperate one. He wasn’t the one who had started this mess in the first place. Prussia should be the one coming to him—awkward, embarrassed, and asking if this meant anything. Then Romano could decide whether to accept or reject him.

That’s how it was supposed to go.

But for that to happen, Prussia actually needed to remember.

Romano started pacing beside the bed, running through every possible scenario in his head. Eventually, he stopped, inhaled sharply, and dropped down so he was level with the sleeping idiot.

He propped his elbows on his knees, resting his face in his hands.

“Why are you still sleeping? Wake up already…!”

His brows furrowed. His lips pressed together.

He glared—sort of.

“This is your fault,” he muttered. Despite the words, there wasn’t any real anger behind them.

Prussia, of course, didn’t respond.

Romano sighed. “Take responsibility, damn it…”

Nothing.

He exhaled again and pushed himself back up.
Fine. He’d wait. He needed to get back to the coffee anyway… With that, he turned on his heel and headed for the door.

But, of course, things couldn’t just stay peaceful. Something had to go wrong. (Again)

The same damn suitcase. Romano had somehow already forgotten it was there and tripped on it… again. But this time, the fall was far worse. He didn’t have a wardrobe, a bed, anything to brace himself against. No—this time, he went down with a loud, clumsy—

THUD!

“Ow…”

Sprawled out on the carpet like a dropped sack of flour, Romano groaned in pain. He pushed himself up onto his hands, then onto his knees, wincing at the ache in his wrists. And let’s not even talk about his face—because it had quite literally met the floor, cushioned only by the carpet…

He groaned again, irritated. Damn it. He could not believe his brother. Yes, he was blaming Veneziano for this. Every bit of it.

Romano shot a glare at the open suitcase sitting in the middle of the room. Who the hell just leaves their luggage lying around like that? What if someone tripped and fell? Like he just did. Not once, but twice! And sure, maybe—maybe—he should’ve accepted a sliver of the blame for not being careful, but it was dark! The stupid thing blended in with the floor! He had every right to trip over it.

So, of course, he was free of blame. His brother, on the other hand…

The Italian let out a small sigh and shook his hands, trying to rid himself of the lingering pain in his wrists. They still ached. His gaze landed on the suitcase again, and his frown deepened.
For a brief moment, he seriously considered chucking the damn thing out the window—problem solved, no more tripping hazards. But that was just the irritable part of him talking. His more rational side, the one that knew Veneziano would bawl his eyes out, reminded him that he’d never actually go through with it. He cared too much about his idiotic little brother.

Muttering a final curse under his breath, Romano decided he’d had enough of sitting on the floor in complete darkness. He planted one foot on the ground and started to push himself up… only to freeze.

A soft light flickered to life in the corner of the room.

It was then, in the middle of all his griping about the suitcase, that he remembered a rather important detail.

The white-haired German had been sleeping here.

Had been.

Because if there was light… that meant the guy was awake.

Letting out the sharpest exhale of his life, Romano slowly turned his gaze toward the bed, still frozen on the floor. On the opposite side of the bed, now sitting up and looking both confused and disoriented, was Prussia. He blinked at Romano like he’d just caught him in the middle of… something. What, exactly, Romano couldn’t say—his brain was far too busy melting into the floor from sheer awkwardness…

He didn’t say anything. He wasn’t going to say anything.

Thankfully, Prussia took that burden upon himself.

“Uh… Romano?” he rasped, running a hand through his messy white hair before resting it against his temple, his head propped up lazily. He kept blinking at Romano, weary and a little dazed, like he was still trying to piece together whatever the hell he had just woken up to.

Romano’s awkwardness skyrocketed.

He felt so stupid for tripping over that damned suitcase—twice!—and even stupider for ending up in this nerve-wracking situation because of it. But… he couldn’t just stay silent. Or—okay, maybe he could, but as his brother liked to remind him, he couldn’t run from his problems or his feelings forever.

Oh, but he was so embarrassed!

Calm down, Romano. He forced himself to take a breath. He needed to be rational. Collected. But the moment his eyes landed on Prussia’s face, all sense of calm evaporated, leaving him a nervous wreck all over again.

Prussia rubbed his eyes and blinked a few more times, as if making sure he wasn’t hallucinating. When it was clear that, yes, Romano was actually in his room, his grogginess faded into full awareness, his expression shifting to surprise. He shifted on the bed before swinging his legs over the side and standing up. Without a word, he strode over to the blinds and pulled them open, flooding the room with light.

And there they were. Not quite face to face—there was still a whole bed between them—but for the expression’s sake, it might as well have been.

Prussia blinked again, tilting his head slightly as he stared at Romano like he’d just been hit with the most shocking news of his life.

Now, in the light of day, Romano couldn’t even look at the guy for more than two seconds. His head snapped to the side as he started sweating buckets. God, this could not be more awkward. There he was, clinging to the ground like some kind of weirdo, while also having to live with the memory of the day before— Ah! He wanted to die!

He needed an excuse. An explanation. Something that would justify why he was snooping around in Prussia’s—no, Germany’s—room while Prussia was sleeping in it!

But what the hell was even believable?!

God, he didn’t even know the real reason he had stepped further into the room after confirming that Prussia was asleep. Why had he felt the need to get closer? To look at the guy while he was sleeping?! That was a question he had no answer for, and he wasn’t about to try finding one. Because if he did, he knew he’d start freaking out all over again.

Oh no—he was getting sidetracked! What was he supposed to be doing again?! Right! An excuse!

Romano’s eyes darted back toward Prussia—who was still staring at him with that same baffled expression—then flickered around the room, searching for something. Anything he could use as a cover. He needed to say something—

His gaze landed on his brother’s suitcase.
The same suitcase he had cursed twice already.
But in this moment of sheer desperation, that damn thing had just handed him the perfect excuse.

Romano swore to himself that, for once in his life, he would actually thank his brother for being such a disorganized mess—because that suitcase was about to save his dignity.

As quickly as he had fallen, he scrambled back onto his feet, trying his best to sound casual. But the slight scratchiness in his voice betrayed him.

“I—I didn’t mean to wake you up,” he stammered, definitely nervously. “Veneziano, he…” his eyes flicked back to the suitcase. He lunged for the nearest article of clothing, snatching up a random blue shirt and holding it out like a prize. “He sent me to get… this!” he pointed at the shirt as if it alone explained everything.

…Yeah, he probably wasn’t selling it very well.

Prussia glanced at the folded shirt in Romano’s hands, then back at him. He lifted a hand to scratch his head awkwardly before stuffing it into his pocket—like he wasn’t quite sure what else to do with it.

“Ah… it’s fine,” he said. “I would’ve gotten up soon anyway.” he averted his gaze, his posture shifting slightly—like he had something to be awkward about, too.

Romano gave a quick nod, pretending to focus on the shirt in his hands, fumbling with the fabric as if it were the most interesting thing in the world. He just needed something to do, some kind of distraction from how painfully awkward this whole encounter was.

A few more seconds passed, and when it became clear that Prussia had nothing else to add, Romano saw his chance.

Perfect. Time to go. Time to escape from the clutches of EMBARRASSMENT.

“Well… I’ll get this to—” he started, pointing
once again at the now very wrinkled shirt in his grip, already taking a step back, preparing to bolt.

But he never got to finish his sentence. Because just as he was about to turn and flee, Prussia’s voice cut through the room.

“Wait!”

Romano froze in place, like a deer caught in headlights. His grip on the shirt tightened as if it were a stress ball, his fingers kneading into the fabric while his head spun and his face burned.

Wait…

Why did Prussia want him to wait, exactly?
Was it about him sneaking in while the guy was still sleeping? Was it about him messing with his brother’s stuff? Did that really need to be addressed more than it already had?! Or… oh God, maybe in all his fumbling and falling on his face, he had somehow messed up the room’s tidiness. That would be a drag, considering Germany, and by extension, Prussia, was a complete neat freak!

Or… maybe…

Romano’s gaze flickered toward the white-haired German across the room. Prussia wasn’t even looking at him anymore. His gaze was averted, his body tense, like it was hard for him to sit still. Like something was on his mind.

And that’s when it hit him. The painfully obvious reason why Prussia looked so conflicted.

He remembered.

Romano’s pulse spiked. His breath hitched.
Of course, he had wanted Prussia to remember! He wouldn’t have done what he did otherwise. But now? Actually standing here, facing the consequences of his own actions? It made him feel like he was about to pass out.

Prussia finally glanced at him again, expression hesitant, like he was debating whether or not to speak. But this was Prussia—hesitation wasn’t really his thing.

So, naturally, he found it in himself to press on.

“…Can we talk?”

Whatever Romano had been feeling before those words were spoken intensified tenfold the moment they left Prussia’s mouth. His heart pounded against his ribs, his palms grew sweaty, soaking his poor brother’s shirt, and his mind screamed at him to run.

This was not how this was supposed to happen.
First thing in the morning? When the guy had just woken up? If he had anything to say about it, he would have already been out the door, hiding under the kitchen table or something equally pathetic. But then… his brother’s words from the night before echoed in his mind.

You can’t always run away from your feelings.

Romano bit his tongue, his eyes falling to the crumpled shirt in his hands. His grip had all but ruined the fabric at this point.

Damn it…

Veneziano was right. As much as he hated to admit it, he couldn’t keep avoiding things forever. He needed to face them—like any other person would. And even though running away was the easier option… for once, he decided to take the hard path.

He inhaled deeply, trying to steady himself, then forced his gaze upward, meeting Prussia’s eyes with as much composure as he could manage. Which, admittedly, wasn’t much.

The guy was still watching him, still wearing that same hesitant expression. Romano supposed it helped to know that he wasn’t the only awkward one here.

Letting out a slow exhale, he forced himself to answer.

“I… guess we… do… need to… talk…”

It came out more hesitant, more quiet than he would have liked. But at least, at the very least, he managed to get the words out.

Prussia’s gaze locked onto Romano, more focused than before. No more glancing away. No more hesitation. He looked a little surprised by the response—but also, maybe, just a little relieved? Or perhaps that was just Romano’s mind playing tricks on him… He wasn’t exactly thinking straight at the moment, given how much blood had probably rushed to his head.

“Romano—” Prussia started, taking a step forward.

Romano tensed, bracing himself.

This is it…

The conversation he’d been dreading was about to begin.

.
.
.

But… they never got the chance. Before Prussia could say anything else, the door swung open.

Both men snapped their heads toward the doorway, Prussia freezing mid-step, his expression shifting from surprise to mild irritation.

Romano followed his gaze, and oh, when he saw who it was—

Germany stood there, staring at them like he’d just walked in on something important. Which, he had.

“Ah, sorry, did I—”

That was as far as he got. Romano had had it.

There was no way he was continuing any sort of emotionally charged conversation with this guy’s brother within a five-mile radius!

Veneziano’s words? His promise to be calm and rational? Gone.

Face burning hotter than before, Romano turned on his heel, shot Germany a glare, and scurried past him—but not before hurling the poor, wrinkled shirt right into the blond’s face.

“Give it to my brother…” he muttered through clenched teeth, storming out of the room without another word.

Germany pulled the shirt off his face, looking thoroughly confused.

Prussia, meanwhile, remained frozen in place, staring after Romano like the guy had just personally destroyed his will to live. His hand twitched at his side, reaching out halfheartedly before dropping back down.

A deep inhale.

An even louder exhale.

Then, without another word, he pressed a hand to his forehead, as if trying to physically hold back the headache that was rapidly forming.

Germany, still standing there, frowned slightly.
“I didn’t mean to…” he started, but Prussia cut him off.

“Man, read the room!” A string of curses in German followed.

Germany furrowed his brows. “I didn’t know Romano was in here!” he shot back. “I came to wake you up, because normally, you’re the only one in this damn room!”

Prussia groaned, rubbing his temples before shoving his hands in his pockets. “We were just about to… talk!” he huffed, frustrated.

Germany didn’t look impressed. “You can still talk.” he pointed out, deadpan. Then, as if deciding he was done with this conversation, he stepped aside and walked toward the door.

“Come eat.”

And with that, he left.

(Though, truth be told… he did feel kind of bad for ruining whatever that was. But oh well, no point dwelling on it now. His brother still had plenty of time to talk to Romano… hopefully.)

Prussia lingered in the room for a moment, sulking. Then, with another sigh, he dragged himself toward the door and finally headed out.

.
.
.

Romano was a mess inside… and probably on the outside, too. His hands were clammy, his stomach twisted into a knot, and—ugh, was his face burning up? It had to be. Just great. As if the mortification of running off wasn’t bad enough, now he had to deal with his own body betraying him.

Embarrassed? Yeah. But more than that, he just felt… awful. Like some coward who couldn’t handle even a second of pressure. He’d tried—really tried—to take Veneziano’s advice to heart, to be open for once. But the second Germany walked in, the walls shot up. His heart rate spiked. And before he knew it, he was out of there. Pathetic.

Talking about feelings was one thing. Talking about them with an audience? No way. What the hell did Germany have to do with any of this? Romano wasn’t about to bare his soul in front of some third party, especially not that oversized, steel-spined control freak.

But did that really justify running away? …No. He knew that. He knew it was a terrible excuse. Knew he was being a coward. But knowing that didn’t magically fix anything. It wasn’t like he could force himself to be fearless just because it was the “right” thing to do.

So what now?

Romano exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair as he stalked toward the living area, willing himself to calm the hell down before anyone saw him like this. He just needed to collect himself, maybe distract himself with something—

The faint scent of coffee wafted through the air.
Oh. Right. He’d set some to brew.

For a moment, relief flickered in his chest. A good, mindless task. Something to focus on that wasn’t this suffocating mess of thoughts. But as he stepped into the kitchen, his brow furrowed. Wait. He hadn’t poured the coffee yet.

And yet, four neatly filled mugs sat beside the machine…

Huh?

“Ah! Fratello!”

Romano spun around at the sound of his brother’s voice. Veneziano stood in the doorway, his usual bright expression plastered across his face. Not that it meant much. When wasn’t he smiling?

"I saw that some coffee was brewing, so I finished it. Then I got the idea to make cappuccinos, but Germany doesn’t have a coffee foamer…" Veneziano explained, trailing off mid-sentence. His gaze lingered on Romano, his smile faltering just enough to show he’d noticed how flustered his brother looked.

Romano, completely missing the scrutiny, was still eyeing the coffee. “Why not do it the traditional way?” he muttered, already rummaging through drawers. He finally grabbed a whisk and shoved it toward his brother.

Veneziano took it, but his attention never really left him.

A beat of silence.

Then, as he turned to the stove, whisk in hand, he hesitated. He was debating something. Romano could feel it before the words even came.

“…Did you run into…” Veneziano lowered his voice, casting a quick glance around as if making sure they were alone. “…Prussia?”

The reaction was immediate. Romano tensed, his muscles snapping taut like a stretched rubber band. His gaze flicked to Veneziano, startled—that alone was enough to give him away. So, he couldn’t really hide the truth from his brother…

With a sigh, the older Italian grabbed two mugs and carried them to the stove. “Ugh… yeah…” he muttered at last, his voice unsteady.

Veneziano shot him a knowing look. “And…?”

Romano averted his eyes. He didn’t want to talk about this. But also, maybe he did. It was complicated. He slumped forward, propping his chin in his hands as he stared at the warming milk. “…He suggested we talk…” he admitted, watching the liquid swirl.

Veneziano’s face lit up. “Eh? Really? È fantastico!” His hands shot up in excitement—only for him to suddenly freeze, remembering the milk was still on the stove. Scrambling to grab the whisk again, he stirred it quickly before anything could burn. “Did you talk? Did you?! Oh! Are you two now—”

“No.”

Romano cut him off with a sharp huff, nodding toward the pot. “It’s done.”

Veneziano pouted slightly but let it drop, turning off the heat and whisking the milk into a proper foam. But he wasn’t letting the subject go.

“Why not?” he pressed, shooting his brother a sideways glance.

Romano made a noise, somewhere between a sigh and a groan. But instead of answering, he pushed himself up and started searching through the cabinets. “Is there any cinnamon or cocoa powder here?”

“Ah, yeah! I think I saw some cacao powder in that little container there!” Veneziano gestured toward a lower cabinet.

Romano nodded and dug through it.

“We didn’t get to talk because…” he finally said, his voice muffled as he searched. Then, finding the box, he straightened up with an irritated click of his tongue. “Your stupid boyfriend walked in.”

Veneziano’s eyes widened. “Germany?”

The southern nation plopped the cacao powder next to the coffee mugs with a firm thud. “Mhm,” he muttered, already winding himself up. “He came in right after I’d finally calmed down—and then the bastard made me not calm anymore!” He slouched against the counter in frustration, scowling into nothing.

Veneziano shot him a mildly disapproving look—well, as disapproving as he could manage. Still, he got it. He knew how Romano was.

“Will you try talking to him again?” he asked, finishing up the milk.

Romano didn’t answer immediately. He just held the pot steady as Veneziano scooped the foam into their mugs. “I don’t know,” he admitted after a moment, exhaling through his nose. “I might… but I wouldn’t be able to say anything if there were others around.”

That included Veneziano. Not that he didn’t trust his brother… it was just… awkward.

The younger Italian hummed, clearly deep in thought. Romano ignored him, grabbing the box of cacao powder. Before he could even ask, Veneziano had already handed him the sifter.

Romano took it without comment. He dusted a fine layer over the foam, first one cup, then the other. The box was left on the counter, the sifter tossed into the growing pile of ‘We’ll wash it later’ utensils.

They weren’t washing anything anytime soon.

Instead, at some point, they both moved to the table. Silence settled between them, not awkward, just… there. The occasional quiet sip of coffee filled the space where words didn’t.

Then, suddenly, Veneziano’s entire face lit up.

“I know!” he blurted, setting his mug down with a little too much force. The coffee inside sloshed dangerously.

Romano startled, shooting him a deeply suspicious look. “What?”

Veneziano grinned, practically vibrating with energy. Whatever this idea was, he was excited about it. Romano could only hope an explanation would follow soon.

…Wishful thinking.

Just as Veneziano opened his mouth, movement from the kitchen doorway caught his attention.
Germany and Prussia had wandered in. Instantly, Veneziano shut down. His enthusiasm evaporated. His hands curled back around his coffee, and suddenly, he was very focused on his drink.

Romano frowned.

For a second, he thought about asking—but then, what was the point?

With a quiet sigh, he let the thought go and took another sip from his own mug…

Germany pulled out a chair beside his boyfriend and offered a small smile. Naturally, Veneziano returned it without missing a beat. But Romano could tell. Veneziano still wanted to say something. And now, thanks to the untimely arrival of the Germans, he wouldn’t get the chance.

“You made coffee for us too?” Germany noted, glancing at the two untouched mugs on the table, steam curling lazily from their rims.

“Mhm!” the younger Italian nodded, his usual bright smile firmly in place. “Me and Romano. There’s still some foam left on the stove if you want to add it to yours!” He leaned slightly toward Germany, punctuating the offer with a quick peck on his cheek—one that Germany accepted without so much as a blink.

Romano grimaced, rolling his eyes at the sappy display. Ugh. Disgusting. He flicked his gaze downward, intending to glare at his coffee instead, but… his eyes drifted, and landed on the other German in the room.

Prussia was still standing, still staring, like he hadn’t quite figured out what to do yet. The moment their eyes met, the albino blinked, startled, before offering an awkward, small smile, lifting a hand in a hesitant wave.

Romano felt his face start to heat up. Damn it. He looked away so fast he nearly gave himself whiplash, fixing his eyes on his half-empty mug with such intensity it was as if he could burn a hole through it. He did not want to know what expression Prussia was wearing now. He didn’t even try to find out, because he had a feeling if he did, his ability to stay calm would go up in flames.

But it’s not like he had to. He could hear it. A chair scraped against the floor. Romano tensed but didn’t lift his gaze. Prussia had moved. Romano knew exactly where the chair had been—across from him. The safe distance. But instead of settling into it, the idiot put it back.

The Italian’s stomach twisted. He felt it before he saw it. The presence beside him, the shift in weight, the deliberate movement… Prussia had walked around the table. And now, he was standing right next to him…

Romano’s grip on his coffee tightened. His pulse, which had barely started to settle, ramped up into an erratic, anxious rhythm. Just what the hell was this guy’s intention? Then, before he could even process it—

The chair scraped again.

Prussia sat down.

Next to him.

HIM. HE SAT DOWN NEXT TO HIM.

Romano didn’t move. Didn’t even breathe. This wasn’t supposed to happen. This wasn’t part of his plan—the plan where he avoided confrontation, avoided eye contact, avoided everything until he could handle it. Was this Prussia’s way of forcing the conversation? Of making sure he couldn’t run? Because it sure as hell felt like it.

His fingers clenched around his coffee mug like it was the only thing tethering him to the present. The ceramic was warm against his palms, grounding. He pressed his lips together, willing himself to keep it together, but it was getting harder by the second. He could feel Prussia watching him. He could feel Veneziano watching him. Germany too, probably…

Romano swore he could hear his own heartbeat over the dull murmur of the kitchen, pounding in his ears, drowning out reason. His face burned. The warmth of his skin could’ve rivaled the heat of the coffee in his hands…

This was too much!

Yes, they needed to talk. Yes, avoiding it forever wasn’t an option. But not now. Not here. Not in front of their brothers, for God’s sake. Just the thought sent a fresh wave of dizziness crashing over him...

But perhaps… he wasn’t the only one feeling this way.

Romano barely moved, but he caught it—the quick flick of Veneziano’s eyes toward him when Prussia sat too damn close. He noticed how Romano tensed. Ugh… Of course he did. Veneziano had always been annoyingly perceptive about certain things. By now, he had probably figured out exactly what was running through Romano’s head, reading the tension rolling off him like heat from a stove.

And, like any sibling would, he tried to smooth things over—if his expression was anything to go by.

“Ah! It’s such a beautiful day today!” he suddenly exclaimed, his voice artificially bright.

A few awkward glances were exchanged across the table.

Undeterred, Veneziano kept going, turning first to Germany. “No, Germany?” He gave the blond’s arm a few light taps, like an impatient child begging for attention.

Germany hesitated. Even he could sense the tension in the room. He shot a quick glance at Romano and Prussia, clearly aware that something was going on, but Veneziano’s stubbornly expectant expression was impossible to resist.

“…Well, I suppose, yeah.” he finally answered.

That was all the encouragement Veneziano needed. “You know what we should do?” he asked, his voice still bubbling with excitement.

Prussia raised an eyebrow. Romano narrowed his eyes.

What was his brother scheming?

Before either of them could ask, Veneziano clasped his hands together with a flourish. “We should go for a walk!”

Silence.

Prussia looked skeptical. Romano looked suspicious.

A walk? Of all things?

The younger Italian caught the wary look on his brother’s face and gave him a subtle nod—one only Romano would notice. Romano picked up on it instantly. Oh, he mused. So this was his plan… Okay… But how was a walk supposed to help? He still didn’t get it. What was Veneziano playing at?

He barely had time to dwell on it before Veneziano pressed on, brimming with the eager determination of a child trying to convince his parents to buy a puppy.

“Wouldn’t it be lovely? It’s so rare for the weather here to be this nice! We have to take full advantage of it!” He clung to Germany’s arm, shaking him slightly as impatience bled into his voice. “C’mon!!! We have to!!! Please, please, please, Germany!”

Germany sighed, already losing the battle. Veneziano knew exactly what he was doing.

“…Fine,” the blond relented. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt.”

“Yuppii!!!” Veneziano beamed, throwing his arms around him in an affectionate hug before quickly turning his attention elsewhere…

To Prussia.

His expression shifted slightly—still bright, but now there was a glint of intent.

“You’ll come too?”

Prussia blinked, caught off guard. His gaze darted around the table like he was double-checking whether North Italy was actually talking to him. Then, with a nervous chuckle, he rubbed the back of his neck. “…Aha… I’m not too sure.” He cast a subtle side-glance at Romano, then looked back at Veneziano. “My head still kinda hurts, so I’d be… uh… very un-awesome to be around, y’know?” He tapped his fingers against the wooden table.

Veneziano didn’t waver. He just smiled. “Oh, that’s too bad…!” And then, he turned to his brother. “Fratello, you’re coming, no?”

Romano hesitated, his suspicion deepening. What exactly was he trying to do?

Then, Veneziano lowered his voice—just enough for only Romano to hear. (And, frankly, to understand, since they were the only ones at the table who spoke Italian.)

“Se vieni tu, lui verrà.” (If you come, he’ll come.)

The southern nation stiffened.

Veneziano tilted his head slightly toward Prussia, subtly gesturing in his direction. Then, in a whisper, he added: “E mi assicurerò che io e la Germania saremo il più lontano possibile da voi ragazzi. Sarai in grado di discutere le cose.” (And I'll make sure that Germany and I are as far away from you guys as possible. You’ll be able to talk things out.)

Romano’s eyes widened slightly.

Oh…

Oh.

For someone like Veneziano, that was actually… kind of a smart move. Inside, there was no privacy—anyone could walk in at any moment. It had already happened once. But outside? Outside, Veneziano could lead Germany away, just like he’d said, leaving Romano and Prussia alone… A perfect chance to talk. The offer, or plan, didn’t sound half bad…

Romano squeezed his mug one last time, grounding himself. Fine.

“…I’ll go with you.”

His little brother let out a delighted noise, clapping his hands together. “How great!”

Romano gave a slight nod, then turned his gaze toward Prussia. The guy had just said he was too hungover to go—no surprise, given all the wine he’d had the day before. Whether that was true or just an excuse to avoid an awkward situation, Veneziano had just assured him that Prussia would come along if he agreed to go. Romano wasn’t sure if that would actually happen, but at this point, there was nothing left to do but see if Veneziano’s little prediction would play out…

For a moment, the albino looked genuinely surprised—like he hadn’t expected Romano to actually agree. He blinked, his gaze flickering down at the table for barely a second before he straightened up.

Then—

“Actually…! You know what? My head feels so much better already! Haha!” Prussia let out a forced laugh, waving a hand like it had all been some huge misunderstanding. “I think I’ll join you guys after all..!”

At those words Germany looked bewildered. Veneziano looked triumphant. Romano? Romano was shocked.

His brother actually predicted that.

How? How?!

What was he, some kind of love expert? Did being in a long-term relationship actually give him some kind of sixth sense for this kind of thing?! Was that just something you gained over time? Some mystical, god-tier ability to read people and use it against them?!

…Okay, but jokes aside, that was actually kind of impressive.

Romano shot his brother a look. Veneziano, still glowing with satisfaction, met his gaze with the smallest, most infuriating smile of victory. Romano huffed and turned back to Prussia, who was now struggling under the weight of Veneziano’s overenthusiastic excitement about their newly made plans.

Romano exhaled.

Maybe… he should ask Veneziano for advice on these things later.

Chapter Text

After finishing breakfast, the four nations got ready for their little outing—an idea sparked by the ever-cheerful Italian. Romano dressed warmly, layering a beige coat over his clothes and wrapping a checkered brown scarf around his neck. He wanted to grab his gloves too but couldn’t find them anywhere. Since he didn’t feel like searching the entire house, he’d just have to settle for putting his hands in his pockets…

The others followed suit.

Veneziano wore a coat similar to Romano’s, though his was a murky gray, and he paired it with a white scarf and black gloves. Germany, ever practical, dressed plainly: a simple jacket over a black turtleneck, no scarf, but at least he wore gloves. Even Prussia, whose fashion sense was questionable at best, looked fairly put together. He threw on a dark red hoodie with a black jacket over it. He had gloves, but like his brother, no scarf. Typical. The two Germans were being careless about the cold… but that wasn’t exactly surprising.

Once they were bundled up and out the door, the next step was choosing which park to walk through. Berlin had plenty of beautiful parks of varying sizes, but given the chilly weather and the Italians’ limited tolerance for the cold, they settled on one not too far from the Germans’ house—Tiergarten. The Italians were also familiar with it, having visited Germany plenty of times before, making it a good choice.

With that thought in mind, the group finally set off.

The walk to the park was awkward, at least for Romano. He wasn’t in the mood for small talk, so he kept his eyes on the ground, watching the pavement shift beneath his feet as he kicked at stray pebbles. Not that he had the mind for conversation anyway. His thoughts were elsewhere...

He was nervous. Very nervous.

How was he supposed to address things with Prussia? How would the conversation go? How would it end? The uncertainty made his stomach churn. What if he said something stupid? What if he messed up? What if Prussia saw him in a bad light?

That last thought made his chest tighten.

Logically, he knew where Prussia stood—after all, the guy had outright admitted to being in love with him the night before (though, to be fair, he had been drunk). But knowing that didn’t make the anxiety go away.

Romano hated this about himself—how his body couldn’t seem to tell the difference between discussing his feelings and getting thrown off a cliff. The panic, the overthinking, the sheer dread… It was the same either way.

So, he kept quiet, letting the others do the talking.

(Between you and me, though? Prussia wasn’t saying much either. His gaze was just as fixed on the ground…)

After a few more minutes of walking through the city, the group finally reached Tiergarten.

Romano lifted his gaze from the ground, taking in the sight of the German park. It wasn’t the same as the southern Italian coasts, where the sea crashed against jagged cliffs, carrying the sharp tang of salt through the air… but even he had to admit, it was rather appealing in its own way.

Especially in the cold season.

The trees, now painted in shades of gold, orange, and deep red, stood in stark contrast to their usual summer green. Fallen leaves blanketed the ground, their rich colors adding to the park’s quiet charm. The sight alone was enough to settle some of the unease swirling in Romano’s mind, giving him something else to focus on besides his own jumbled thoughts.

They entered through one of the park’s many pathways, stepping beneath the towering trees as they began a slow, steady walk through the thick display of autumn foliage.

Romano stuck close to his brother, his gaze fixed on the colorful leaves beneath his feet. With each step, they crunched softly, a steady rhythm that occupied his thoughts more than anything else. He wasn’t paying much attention to his surroundings anymore, too caught up in the simple sound… Which was why he flinched when Veneziano suddenly tugged at his coat sleeve.

Romano blinked, startled, before turning to his brother with a confused expression. Veneziano didn’t say anything—he just glanced at him briefly before shifting his gaze off to the side...

Romano followed his eyes… and then he saw him…

Prussia.

The moment Romano’s eyes landed on the man, he quickly looked away, heart beginning to pick up speed. He turned back to his brother, pulse drumming louder with every passing second.

Veneziano, ever perceptive, caught on immediately. With his free hand, the one not clinging to his boyfriend, he gave Romano’s forearm a few gentle pats, flashing him a warm, reassuring smile.

Then, in a hushed voice, he murmured. “Puoi farlo. Ho fiducia in te.” (You can do it. I believe in you.) A soft squeeze to his arm followed before Veneziano let go, his hand falling back to his side.

Romano stared at his brother, still looking startled, before his gaze dropped back to the ground. He let out a small sigh, understanding exactly what Veneziano was trying to say—and what he was hoping for…

He had to admit, his brother knew how to comfort someone when they were distressed.

Biting the inside of his cheek, Romano hesitated before glancing up again. His expression was still tense, but there was a flicker of confidence now, however faint.

"Grazie." he mouthed the word silently, but Veneziano understood anyway.

With one final smile, the younger Italian turned away completely, placing his free hand on his boyfriend’s arm, mirroring the other. And just like that, the plan to leave Romano and Prussia alone was set in motion…

Romano took a slow, deep breath, steeling himself…

This was happening. Time to get ready.

“Germany! Germany!” Veneziano exclaimed enthusiastically, nearly bouncing in place beside the blond.

Germany shot him a confused look, brow raised. “What?”

“Look at that cool tree over there!” Veneziano pointed toward one of the many trees at the far end of the path.

Germany squinted, following his boyfriend’s gesture. His eyes landed on the tree in question—a completely ordinary tree that looked no different from the others surrounding it. He turned back to Veneziano, expression even more puzzled.

“It’s just a tree like the rest…” he said flatly.

The Italian shook his head, clearly unimpressed with that response. His face set in a determined expression. “No! Can’t you see?” he grabbed Germany’s head and physically turned it back toward the tree. “That tree is special..! It has…”

He faltered, realizing he hadn’t actually thought of a reason for his sudden investment in that particular tree. But after a brief pause, inspiration struck.

“…all red leaves!” he blurted out triumphantly.

Germany, once again, regarded him with confusion, his gaze shifting back to the tree with red leaves. He studied it carefully, trying to figure out what, exactly, made it so special in Veneziano’s eyes. But when he found no obvious answer, he decided it was best to just ask.

“What’s so special about that? Other trees have—”

He didn’t get to finish.

“Germany! How could you say that?!” the light-brunet gasped dramatically, shaking his head as if deeply offended.

Germany sighed. Here we go…

Veneziano turned back toward the tree, squinting at it as if searching for a deeper meaning himself. “All red leaves… It’s, well—” He faltered, clearly trying to come up with a reasonable explanation for his sudden fixation. His eyes darted around, scanning his surroundings, until his gaze landed on the ground… then his feet…

Aha!

It was like a light bulb flicked on above his head.

He straightened up, beaming.

“…It’s an Italian saying! Il rosso porta fortuna! Red brings luck!” He nodded firmly, as if this were a well-known fact.

Of course, there was no such saying. He had made it up on the spot. But since Germany didn’t exactly have an in-depth knowledge of Italian expressions, it worked.

The German blinked, furrowing his brows as he glanced back at the distant tree. “An Italian saying…” he muttered, clearly unconvinced.

Veneziano nodded again, this time with extra enthusiasm. “Exactly! And we need to go check it out so that… we’ll have luck in our relationship forever and ever!” Before the blond could respond, Veneziano sprang in front of him, grabbing his arm and tugging eagerly, urging him forward.

Germany frowned, digging his heels in slightly. “We have to go now? We’ll end up passing it soon anyway, why not just—”

He stopped mid-sentence when he caught sight of his boyfriend’s expression.

Veneziano’s eyes widened in exaggerated heartbreak. “Do you not want our relationship to have luck?” he gasped, voice trembling with dramatic distress. A few mock sobs followed as he turned away, shaking his head. “You don’t care about it…!”

The German’s confusion deepened. “What? No! That’s not—! How did you even—?” He cut himself off with a heavy sigh, realizing there was no winning this argument. He knew Veneziano too well—once he got an idea in his head, there was no changing it…

With a resigned but fond look, Germany reached for his boyfriend’s hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Fine,” he said. “Let’s go look at the tree.”

Veneziano practically lit up, his face beaming with joy and affection. Almost immediately, he squeezed Germany’s hand tightly in return and stepped closer, his bright smile unwavering. He loved how Germany would do anything just to keep him from feeling sad.

“I love you so so much!” he declared, resting his head on the blond’s shoulder for a brief moment before springing back into action. “Let’s go!” he tugged on Germany’s hand, practically skipping forward like an overexcited child.

Germany exhaled quietly, shaking his head, but there was no hiding the small, warm smile tugging at his lips. Matching his lover’s pace, he quickened his steps, and before long, the two had put a noticeable distance between themselves and their brothers, who remained behind…

…

As his brother and Germany disappeared into the distance, Romano felt a wave of dizziness wash over him. His steps grew heavier, as if the solid pavement beneath him had turned to quicksand, threatening to pull him down with every move. At last, he was alone with the white-haired German…

And it was clear as day that Romano wasn’t the only one who had noticed this.

Beside him, Prussia had also taken note of the fact that their brothers had scurried ahead, leaving the two of them quite literally alone.

Romano felt the subtle shift as the albino adjusted his posture, slipping his hands into his pockets. He inhaled deeply, then exhaled, his breath forming a faint cloud in the chilly air.
And then, before Romano could brace himself, Prussia spoke.

“I… wasn’t really paying attention. Why’d those two run off like that?” he asked, his voice carrying a hint of awkwardness as his gaze lingered on the retreating couple.

Romano clenched his fists, trying to keep his nerves under control. He raised his gaze from the ground and followed Prussia’s line of sight, watching as Veneziano and Germany continued to walk ahead. With a quiet exhale, he responded.

“Veneziano saw a… tree. Something about it having red leaves...” His voice was hesitant, almost too quiet, unlike his usual way of speaking. He couldn’t help it. His nerves were running wild.

He quickly turned his gaze away, his discomfort obvious in the way his body tensed. Romano loosened his fists, then crossed his arms over his chest, as if that might offer some sense of control.

But even with his eyes fixed elsewhere, he could feel the change in Prussia’s posture. He could sense the other man’s gaze on him, the weight of it pressing down, making his stomach churn. He swallowed hard, fighting to keep his composure.

Then, unexpectedly, Prussia spoke again.

“Are you cold?”

Romano turned slightly toward him, his brow furrowing in confusion. He parted his lips, still processing the unexpected question. “Cold?” he echoed, bewildered.

Prussia blinked, his gaze flickering for a moment before returning to Romano. He pulled a hand from his pocket, pointing at him. “Your arms are…”

Romano glanced down, following Prussia’s line of sight. That’s when he realized how he’d crossed his arms—almost like he was trying to hold himself together. It probably did look like he was cold, and honestly, he was—though not freezing. But admitting that his awkward posture was more about his nerves than anything else? That was something Romano would never admit.

“Uh, yeah… a bit.” The words tumbled out, and immediately he regretted them. They felt clumsy, uncomfortable, like he wanted to take them back. But they were already spoken.

He tightened his grip on his arms, eyes still fixed on the ground as he walked slowly, feeling the tension knotting tighter in his chest.

Prussia let out a quiet “Ah,” as if Romano’s answer had caught him off guard. The Italian wasn’t exactly one for admitting things so easily. He shifted his weight, mulling over a suggestion. “We could go someplace—”

Romano shook his head before he could finish. “I’m not that cold yet. It’s fine.” His voice was steady, though his gaze never wavered from the road ahead.

Prussia nodded, accepting the answer without pressing any further. He slid his hands back into his pockets and fell into step beside Romano, matching his slow pace…

Soon enough, silence settled between them.

Romano could hear the frantic thudding of his own heart, each beat louder than the last, reverberating in his chest like it was impossible to ignore. In the background, the muffled hum of distant voices swirled around them, passersby lost in their own worlds, oblivious to the silence that stretched between the two nations walking side by side.

He clenched his jaw, the muscles in his face tightening with frustration. Why wasn’t Prussia saying anything? Why wasn’t he bringing up the fact that they needed to talk? The silence was unbearable.

His thoughts collided in a chaotic tumble, spiraling into a dozen—no, twenty—different disastrous scenarios. Each potential outcome played out in his mind, each one worse than the last. It wasn’t helping. It only made things worse, feeding his anxiety.

All he wanted was the comfort of his brother’s presence, where his awkwardness didn’t feel so crippling, so unbearable. But before his mind could fully spiral into panic, Prussia’s voice cut through his thoughts…

“Romano… do you still think we could… talk?”

Talk…

The words barely registered in South Italy’s muddled mind, and he suddenly lost the ability to think.

“Talk?” he echoed, distant and uncertain, the question slipping from his lips before his brain could catch up.

Prussia cast a nervous glance his way, pulling his hands from his pockets and waving them around dismissively. “Ah… we don’t have to..! If you don’t wanna, haha… I can forget all about it…” The last words hung in the air, too clearly betraying that this was the last thing the German wanted, the hesitation in his voice and the slight narrowing of his eyes giving it away. “I just thought—!” he began again, but before he could finish, Romano’s mind cleared and his voice followed.

"Of... of course I still want to talk, jerk!" he blurted, his nervousness fading just slightly as half of the bad scenarios he’d made up in his head were erased as possible outcomes, now that the tension had broken. The dizziness began to ease too.

He looked away briefly, pursing his lips. "Stop insinuating things about me..." he muttered with a small frown, glancing up to see Prussia’s surprised gaze.

The German stared at him for a few seconds, then, after a brief pause, shook his head and let out a small, nervous laugh. “Oh, uh, my bad… You just… I don’t know, based on… uh, you looked really…” He faltered, searching for the right words. He didn’t want to say anything that might upset Romano, especially after the Italian had already voiced his frustration… But when he realized he couldn’t find the right words, he quickly abandoned that line of thought and shifted his focus to the more important matter. “I want to apologize…” he said, his voice softening as his gaze drifted off into the distance.

Romano blinked, confusion flickering across his features. He turned to study the albino more closely.

“Apologize?” he echoed, still unsure what Prussia was referring to. “For insinuating things about me… or…?” His head tilted slightly, his frown deepening. He couldn’t fathom why something so trivial warranted an apology.

Prussia shot him a quick, sidelong glance and shook his head firmly. “No, no, not that,” he interjected before Romano could say more.

The Italian fell silent, his expectant gaze fixed on him, waiting for an explanation. But when the words finally came, they weren’t what he had anticipated…

“I want to apologize for last night…”

What?

He wanted to apologize for last night?
Romano’s breath hitched. He hadn’t expected that. His brows knitted together as his mind scrambled to piece together the reason behind Prussia’s sudden need for an apology. What exactly did he regret?

Was it the drinking? No—that didn’t seem like something Prussia would suddenly feel guilty over. Did he say something offensive? Romano couldn’t recall anything particularly out of line... His thoughts twisted in circles, chasing a reason, but before he could settle on one, Prussia spoke again—cutting through his unfinished theories.

“I’m sorry about how… I urged you to drink with me…” he began, his voice unusually cautious, as if he were carefully picking apart words that still felt foreign in his mouth. “And how… I probably made you do stuff you wouldn’t normally do, but went along with because of the alcohol…”

His gaze flickered downward, and for once, he looked genuinely uncertain. Almost guilty. Romano wasn’t used to seeing him like this. Prussia was always bold, always loud, always unapologetically himself. But now, he looked like he was afraid of his own words.

And yet… Romano was surprised.

It wasn’t just how Prussia was apologizing that caught him off guard—it was why. He thought he had made Romano uncomfortable and was taking responsibility for it. Romano hadn’t even considered that. The truth was, he hadn’t been drunk enough to act against his own will. Everything he had done, everything he had said, had been entirely his own choice. But hearing Prussia apologize for something he assumed had been wrong, without Romano even having to say a word, made something warm stir in his chest…

He wasn’t used to people considering his feelings like this.

And somehow, that mattered.

“I know I was very pushy, and you hate that,” the German continued, forcing a breath out. “And I know how lame this probably sounds to you right now, but I’ve been thinking about the possibility that… maybe what you said last night was just—just the alcohol talking. And I wouldn’t blame you for that, because, again, my fault for even suggesting drinking in the first place. But…” He swallowed hard, his voice starting to unravel. “Just… tell me if you didn’t mean what you said, and I swear I won’t ever bring it up again. I’ll act normal. I’ll move on. I’ll—” He let out a shaky laugh, the kind that barely covered how much this was tearing at him. “I’ll try to get over the hell amount of things I feel for you. And again, I’m not blaming you, I just—”

His manic rambling was abruptly cut off.

"You made me do stuff?" Romano echoed, disbelief flashing across his face. His heart pounded annoyingly fast, and heat was surely rushing to his cheeks—not from nervousness this time, but something else...

"Are you hearing yourself?" he huffed, forcing down the warmth creeping up his neck.

Prussia tensed, as if the words had struck him. Romano exhaled sharply, but the uneasy tightness in his chest wouldn’t fade...

It wasn’t fair that he had no control over his own body because of this idiot’s words…

And yet, as stupid as it was… he liked it.

The words caught in his throat, and for a moment, he nearly swallowed them down. But after everything Prussia had just laid bare, waiting for him to tear it apart, it was the least he could do.

So he forced them out.

"I meant what I said, idiot."

After saying this so boldly, a deep blush crept up his cheeks, and he immediately turned his head away, unwilling to meet Prussia’s eyes. Damn him. With that dumb, guilty expression, he’d completely cornered Romano into admitting something he never would have said otherwise...

He stood like that for a second, swallowing dryly and overthinking. But after another moment, curiosity won out, and he couldn’t help but wonder how Prussia had reacted. Slowly, hesitantly, he flicked his gaze back toward the Germanic nation—only to be met with wide, stunned eyes.

Prussia looked like he’d just been told the most shocking news of his life. His face was flushed, lips parted slightly, as if he wanted to say something but had completely lost the ability to form words.

Romano wasn’t sure what annoyed him more—the fact that Prussia had worked himself up over something so stupid… or the fact that he actually found his dumb, shocked face kind of endearing…

A second passed. Maybe two. Neither of them said anything.

By the third, Prussia finally shook himself out of his daze. He gave a quick shake of his head, as if trying to make sure he’d heard correctly, then stepped in front of Romano, halting him in his tracks. The sudden movement startled the southern nation, but what really got to him was the look on Prussia’s face—still wide-eyed, still visibly shocked.

“You… what? Really?!”

He stepped closer, leaning in slightly, as if he needed to see Romano’s expression up close—to confirm this wasn’t just something he was saying…

Romano’s heart lurched.

“Don’t do that!” he sputtered, face burning, as he instinctively pressed a hand against Prussia’s side to push him away. But it was barely a nudge, and the bastard didn’t budge. With no other option, Romano turned on his heel and walked past him, trying to ignore the way his pulse pounded in his ears.

But then—his steps slowed.

The albino’s question still lingered, unanswered. Romano felt it pressing against his back, heavy with meaning. And damn it all, he couldn’t just walk away from this.

So, without turning fully around, he cast a glance back over his shoulder, his expression, just for a moment, unusually sincere.

“…Yes. Really.”

Then, before he could see the idiot’s reaction and regret everything, he turned back and kept walking, shoulders tense and face on fire.

For a brief second, there was silence behind him.

Then—

Prussia made a noise. A startled, strangled sound, like his brain had short-circuited.

Romano didn’t dare look back, but he could feel the moment Prussia processed what he had just said. The energy shifted, a sharp inhale filling the space before—

“You… like me?!”

The Italian visibly flinched at the sheer disbelief in his voice. Why did he have to say it like that? Like the concept was so impossible, so utterly shocking? He turned his head slightly, just enough to glare at the ground as he quickened his pace. “Don’t make me repeat myself… bastard…”

But his attempt to flee the conversation was doomed from the start.

Prussia, undeterred, quickly fell into step beside him again. Then, because of course he would, he moved in front of Romano and started walking backward. He almost tripped over his own feet.

“You’re gonna fall on your ass, idiot…” Romano muttered, forcing himself to slow down just slightly so Prussia wouldn’t actually break his neck over this.

Not that the bastard seemed to care.

The eastern nation’s expression was still surprised, maybe even overwhelmed, but there was a rare seriousness in his eyes too...

Then, just as Romano’s brain was finally catching up to what was happening, he felt it—
A warm hand pressing against his chest.

South Italy froze.

Prussia had stopped walking. And now—he was stepping forward.

The distance between them shrunk.

Romano’s breath faltered as he snapped his head up, hazel eyes wide, locked on Prussia’s face.

He was too close.

And he wasn’t smiling…

Instead, Prussia slowly moved the hand that had stopped him, pressing it flat against his own chest, right over his heart. Romano could see how red his face was now, how genuine his expression was…

“I too…” he started, then hesitated—only for a fraction of a second. Then, with a quiet breath, he steadied himself. “I too meant what I said.”

Romano stared.

Prussia’s face was burning. His pale skin was flushed so deeply that it nearly matched the autumn leaves around them. But somehow, it wasn’t embarrassing. It wasn’t some stupid, awkward moment…

No. He meant it.

“Romano,” Prussia murmured, his gaze never leaving the Italian’s. “I hope you know that I’m being serious. That I’m not just saying this.” He exhaled slowly, and God help him, Romano felt it—the warm breath ghosting over his skin in the chilly air. “I know I’m not the best guy out there, and I know how untrustworthy you probably think I am because of the way I normally act…”

He swallowed, then gently grasped Romano’s forearms, as if afraid the other might bolt. Which, in all fairness, he might have.

“…But you have to trust me that I meant it when I said it.”

Prussia’s grip tightened—not harshly, but firmly.

“I do love you.”

Romano’s stomach twisted. His breath caught, every nerve in his body on edge. Damn it, this guy… He’d already confessed. Romano had heard it before—this wasn’t new. It shouldn’t feel new. And yet, his chest felt too tight, his pulse too unsteady, as if his heart itself refused to believe it wasn’t the first time.

“And…” Prussia hesitated, just for a moment, before pushing forward. “I still mean it. I love you. And… I know you said love takes time. I know. But even so… I do. I know I’m in love with you.”

The Italian’s eyes stayed locked on his face. This was too much—too damn much! And yet… he couldn’t tear himself away. No matter how much he told himself to look elsewhere, his gaze refused to budge. Something in the way Prussia looked at him… so open, so real… held him captive…

“When you visit with your brother, when you tag along to see West… I always hope you’re coming just to see me.” He exhaled, almost a laugh, but it was too soft to be amused. More like longing. “My head’s been like this for so long already, and I know I probably sound desperate, but I just… I can’t help it.”

He dropped his gaze for a second, lips pressing together as if debating whether to keep going. Then, with a quiet breath, he lifted his head, meeting Romano’s eyes again.

“I know I can’t force you to make a decision you’re not ready for. Or do something you don’t want to do. But… knowing you meant what you said yesterday…” He inhaled slowly, his voice barely above a whisper. “My mind’s a mess with hopes now.”

Romano’s stomach churned again, and that urge to flee was all too present in his mind… but he didn’t move. He couldn’t. Especially not when Prussia’s hands were warm… grounding. Not when those damn eyes… so earnest, so quietly pleading, made even blinking impossible…

“I know love takes time,” the albino repeated, softer now. “But… do you think you could at least give loving me a shot?”

And as if what Romano was already feeling wasn’t bad enough, at this, he could’ve sworn his heart skipped a beat.

“I won’t do anything stupid…” Prussia promised, voice quiet but steady. “I swear.”

…

Romano swallowed hard, his heart hammering in his chest as the German’s words lingered in the crisp air between them.

He couldn’t move. Couldn’t look away.

Damn him.

Damn the way he said it… so earnestly, so completely vulnerable in a way that didn’t suit him at all, and yet… fit so perfectly right now.

Romano clenched his jaw, his hands curling at his sides as he dropped his gaze. His fingers felt cold. He regretted not searching harder for his gloves before coming here…

His mind raced, his thoughts tumbling over one another.

This wasn’t a decision he could take lightly. Love wasn’t something he threw around. It wasn’t something he even liked talking about…

But…

His mind wandered…

To all the times Prussia had pushed and pried his way into his life, refusing to be ignored no matter how much Romano insulted him or shoved him away.
To all the times he’d stayed, even when Romano had made it damn near impossible.
To the stupid, cocky grins that softened when they were alone…
To the way Prussia would stare at him with those eyes of his and actually listen—like what Romano had to say mattered.

And to the way all of it made Romano feel.
Maybe—just maybe—this decision wasn’t as hard as he wanted to believe…

A sharp breath forced him back into the present.

Prussia was still looking at him, his hands still gripping his arms, his expression still so painfully hopeful that it hurt to see.

His words echoed in Romano’s ears.

"Do you think you could at least give loving me a shot?"

Romano’s fingers twitched.

It wasn’t fair. None of it was. Not the way Prussia made him feel so damn important. Not the way he stood there, waiting—like Romano’s answer actually mattered more than anything else in the world.

His chest felt tight.

Slowly, cautiously, he lifted his gaze.

For a second, he hesitated. His mind screamed at him, warning that whatever choice he made now would change everything. But with Prussia’s warmth still lingering on his skin and that earnest look in his eyes… the consequences felt distant.

He exhaled—a breath he hadn’t even realized he was holding—and gave the smallest nod.

“…I’ll try.”

His voice was barely above a whisper.

But before doubt could creep in, before he could second-guess himself, he added—softer this time, almost like a warning. Almost like a plea.

“You better not make me regret this…”

The painful longing in Prussia’s expression shattered in an instant, replaced by wide-eyed shock. His lips parted slightly, and for a moment, he just stared, blinking once, twice, then a third time before finally finding his voice.

“You… are you serious?”

His words were hesitant, almost disbelieving, like he was afraid this was just some figment of his own imagination.

Romano’s face burned, a deep blush creeping over his skin. If he could, he would’ve turned away completely, but Prussia’s grip on his forearms kept him in place. He had no choice but to jerk his head to the side, stubbornly avoiding the other’s gaze.

He didn’t say a word. He didn’t have to. The flush on his face, the way he refused to look at him, the sudden shyness in his posture—it was answer enough.

“You…” Prussia said again, still sounding stunned. Even without looking at him directly, Romano caught it—the way his crimson eyes brightened, the way his fingers curled just a little more securely around his arms.

But Prussia didn’t finish his thought. He didn’t push. And Romano knew why. The German saw how flustered Romano was, how his pride was barely holding together under the weight of his own feelings. And instead of making it worse, instead of pressing just because he could, he held back.

Romano really did like that about him…

Then Prussia exhaled—a small, almost relieved breath. And when the brunet dared to glance his way, he saw it…

A smile. A soft, honest smile.

Somehow, that sight settled the embarrassment—if only a little. It eased the tension in his shoulders, let his body relax just enough. Gave him the confidence to turn his head, just slightly, toward the German…

And in a voice so soft it barely touched the air, the German whispered:

“You won’t regret it.”

Something in the way he said it—the certainty, the gentleness—made Romano’s breath hitch.

Prussia held his gaze, unwavering.

“I promise.”

Now fully facing the albino, the southern nation felt something unfamiliar settle over him—calm. His heart still pounded, his face still burned, but for once, he wasn’t panicked. He wasn’t scrambling for a way out.

Because he believed Prussia’s words.

Truly.

But… even so, speaking felt impossible after everything that had just happened. His mind was still a mess, his emotions still tangled beyond reason. All he could manage was a small nod—subtle, hesitant, but certain. A silent confirmation that, yes, he believed him.

Prussia’s eyes practically lit up at that, his smile turning even warmer. His grip on Romano’s forearms stayed, before loosening—just a bit, just enough to give him space.

“You won’t run away if I…?”

He trailed off, hands still hovering near Romano’s arms, as if he wasn’t entirely convinced yet. As if he half-expected the shorter nation to bolt the second he let go. And who could blame him? Too many times before, Romano had run.

But this time, he didn’t.

This time, he shook his head, just a little, gaze flickering downward instead of meeting Prussia’s eyes.

He wasn’t going anywhere.

Even if he wanted to, he probably couldn’t. His legs felt weak—so weak that if he even tried, he’d collapse before he made it a meter away.

Prussia slowly let his hands slip away, hesitating before awkwardly holding them in front of him. Then, with nothing else to do with them, he let them drop to his sides.

And suddenly, silence.

Not the heavy kind, not uncomfortable—but charged. Waiting.

Then, looking away, he mumbled. “So… are we…?” His voice wavered, just slightly. He faltered, stole a glance at Romano—waiting, hoping, for an answer.

Romano knew what he meant.

That unspoken ‘together’? lingered between them, making his face heat up all over again. He wanted to say it. To confirm it. But his throat felt tight, his voice refusing to cooperate.

So instead, he just nodded again. Quick. Barely noticeable.

But Prussia saw it.

And the moment he did, that stupid, soft grin of his stretched even wider.

Romano huffed and turned his head away, but he couldn’t stop the corners of his mouth from twitching. No matter how hard he tried to play it cool, the warmth in his chest was undeniable—relief, happiness. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d felt this way, like something had actually gone right for once…

Only when his fingers curled into his palms did he notice how painfully cold they were. He must’ve lost all feeling in them with everything that had just happened. He hadn’t even thought to shove them into his pockets… Not that it mattered. His mind was too wrapped up in the surge of dopamine rushing through him. He was actually happy.

But someone else had noticed what he hadn’t.

Of course, Prussia had. He’d seen the way Romano clenched his hands, how stiff they were from the cold. And without hesitation, without a second thought, he yanked off his gloves and stuffed them into his coat pockets.

Then, without much warning, though not without care, he reached out and took Romano’s hands in his own.

The warmth was jarring.

The Italian inhaled sharply, his heart stuttering. It was ridiculous, really, how something as simple as warm hands on his could have such an effect on him.

“Wha… what…” he finally managed to get words out, staring at their hands like he couldn’t quite believe what was happening.

Prussia’s grip was light. Not demanding, not forcing. Just… offering. His fingers curled loosely around Romano’s, his thumbs brushing faintly over his knuckles, easing warmth back into them.

A faint smile tugged at his lips.

“I owe you one.”

Romano stared at him for a moment, recalling—ah, that’s right… He’d warmed Prussia’s hands before. And now, Prussia was doing the same for him.

His throat tightened, and he swallowed thickly, his fingers instinctively curling just a little tighter around Prussia’s. Despite how flustered he felt, he liked it.

“…Idiot.” he muttered, though his voice came out far too soft for his liking.

Prussia’s grin widened, and he let out a small laugh. “That’s me!” He let go of one of Romano’s hands, giving him the chance to shove it into his pocket so it wouldn’t freeze, but he kept a firm hold on the other. Romano didn’t try to pull away, though he couldn’t help but wonder why Prussia was still holding on…

Before he could ask, Prussia turned toward the road, glancing into the distance. Just barely, he could make out his younger brother and Veneziano near a tall tree with red leaves. Veneziano was gesturing toward it, likely explaining something to Germany.

“Ah, there they are!” Prussia said, pointing in their direction with his free hand. “We should catch up before they notice how far behind we are!” He shot Romano a grin and gave his hand a slight tug, urging him forward.

Romano blinked, then nodded, falling into step beside him. But his thoughts were elsewhere…

Prussia was still holding his hand.

Why? He didn’t need to anymore. His hands were already warm… There was no reason to keep holding on.

But perhaps Romano had overlooked one crucial detail…

The thought lingered, turning over in his mind until the realization struck, sudden and jarring, like a splash of cold water.

They were… a couple now.

This was what couples did. They held hands.

Heat rushed to Romano’s face, spreading fast, making his skin prickle. He glanced down at his feet, his mind spinning. The guy next to him—his… boyfriend. Wait. His boyfriend. Oh God. He could actually call him that now.

The realization hit like a second wave of heat, knocking every other thought from his head. Including the fact that they were still holding hands.

He had to look. Had to see if Prussia was just as flustered, if he was still processing that they—the two of them—were actually together now.

But when Romano finally glanced over, there was no embarrassment on Prussia’s face. No nervous fidgeting.

Instead, he looked… happy. Genuinely, effortlessly happy. So at ease that for a second, Romano could’ve sworn he almost saw sparkles around him.

Romano quickly dropped his gaze, trying to steady himself. His heart was racing, his thoughts spiraling—but then it hit him.

Prussia had the right idea. There was no reason to panic. No reason to be embarrassed.
He should be happy.

Because he was happy.

Slowly, he took a breath, lifting his eyes from the ground. The scenery stretched ahead of them, quiet and peaceful. Without thinking, he let a small, subtle smile slip onto his lips.

Yeah. He really was happy.

Without hesitation, he tightened his grip on Prussia’s hand.

Prussia glanced at him, startled—but then his smile widened, bright and warm. He gave Romano’s hand a light squeeze in return.

Yeah, Romano thought. He really, really was happy.

.
.
.

Further down the road, on the other side, the other German and Italian still stood in front of the tree Veneziano had so eagerly dragged Germany over to see.

For the past few minutes, Veneziano had been spouting absolute nonsense, making up Italian traditions on the spot and claiming they had something to do with the red-leafed tree. He explained them with full confidence, as if they were real, but in truth, he was quickly running out of things to say. He really hoped his brother would finish talking with Germany’s older brother soon, or he might just have to start making up poetry about the tree…

Desperate for a distraction, he glanced toward the spot where he’d last left Romano and Prussia, squinting to focus. His eyes searched for a moment before landing on the two approaching them.

They were walking side by side—so far, nothing unusual. But then Veneziano’s attention caught on something else…

His brother’s face was flushed, yet… content? Happy, even? Veneziano raised an eyebrow.
Then he looked at Prussia—who, if anything, looked even happier than Romano.

And then he saw it.

“OH!” he gasped, practically jumping in place as he turned fully toward the approaching pair.

They were holding hands.

Hands!

That wasn’t something you did with just anyone—especially not Romano! That had to mean… that had to mean—oh, thank God! A proud, warm smile spread across Veneziano’s face, his chest swelling with happiness. They’d really done it. They’d figured it out. He’d always known they were alike in so many ways, and he was sure the decision they’d made would be good for both of them.

Beside him, Germany noticed his sudden shift in attention and stepped closer, raising a brow. “Is everything alright? You were talking about trees one second ago, and now you’re jumping around…”

Veneziano didn’t turn to look at him, still staring into the distance with an almost dreamy expression. “I think I’m not that interested in the tree anymore…” he mumbled, voice laced with contentment.

Germany blinked, confused. “But you were so excited just a second ago…” He took another step forward. “What made you change your—“

He stopped mid-question as his gaze followed Veneziano’s.

The second his eyes landed on their brothers, hand in hand, looking all sappy, everything clicked.

“Ah,” he let out simply, watching the scene unfold before them.

For a few moments, they both just stood there, taking in the sight.

Then, with a small smile, the German reached for Veneziano’s hand, gently tugging him away from his staring. “Let’s go sit on a bench,” he suggested. “We don’t want them catching us watching them like this.”

Veneziano finally turned to him, his warm smile mirroring Germany’s. With a soft nod, he allowed himself to be led toward a nearby bench.

But not before stealing one last glance at the other couple, his smile only growing brighter.

Then he turned back to Germany, squeezing his hand just a little.

“Let’s go!”

.
.
.

From this point on, one could easily guess how things unfolded.

Romano and Prussia didn’t need to say out loud that they were a couple—it was obvious. But, of course, they still ended up talking to their brothers in private about the whole thing. Romano told Veneziano every little detail, recounting each emotion he’d felt, while Prussia took a more boastful approach, proudly insisting to Germany that his actions had been chivalric—and that perhaps Germany could take some lessons from his older brother.

In the end, both nations were content with their decision, and their brothers couldn’t have been more supportive.

The rest of the trip felt different. The tension that had once been so palpable between Prussia and Romano had faded, replaced by something easier, something natural. Gone were the awkward silences and strained moments. There was still a nervous edge between them, but it was the kind that came with excitement rather than uncertainty.

Romano, though still prone to blushing fits, had stopped getting worked up over every little thing. Well, mostly. There were still moments that left him flustered, but he no longer let them ruin the moment—or the trip. And, somewhere along the way, he found himself genuinely enjoying it.

What had once seemed like a terrible idea now felt like the best idea. He had come to terms with his feelings, admitted to them, and—more importantly—he hadn’t run away. He’d stayed, talked things out, and faced his emotions head-on. That had to count as some kind of personal growth. At least in his head.

The rest of the trip was spent doing relaxing, enjoyable things. They ate out at restaurants—or cooked at home, though, naturally, the Italians insisted on handling the cooking (otherwise, in their opinion, no one would eat properly). They visited a few museums, and at some point, Prussia managed to convince everyone to go see a movie in theaters, insisting that watching it fresh on the big screen was the way to experience it.

They strolled through parks, visited a traditional German food market—something Romano had initially been against. But Veneziano had insisted. And so had his boyfriend. And, well… in the end, he had gone. (Not that he’d admit it out loud, but he actually ended up having fun.)

Before they knew it, the trip had flown by.

And soon enough, much to everyone’s dismay—especially the Germans'—it was time for Romano and Veneziano to return to Italy.

The airport was crowded on the day the two Italians were set to leave for home. Travelers scurried in all directions, wheeling their suitcases across the polished floors, the sharp sound of rubber and metal echoing over the constant hum of voices. Every few minutes, the overhead speakers crackled to life, announcing boarding calls or the names of passengers who had yet to arrive at their gates.

It was loud, far too loud for Romano’s liking, but, honestly, he could hardly focus on the noise. A strange, heavy feeling settled in his chest, one he didn’t usually experience when leaving Germany. But now, it was there, weighing on him. And he had a good idea why…

After dropping off their luggage, it was time for the security check—‘the point of no return’. Once they passed through, they wouldn’t be able to turn back, wouldn’t be able to return to this side of the terminal where the Germans were waiting. So, knowing they’d have to say goodbye soon, they lingered a little longer, sitting with the Germans while they still had time.

Veneziano clung to Germany, dramatically sobbing as if he were being shipped off to war rather than simply going home. Ordinarily, the blond would have scolded him for overreacting, but today, he only held him close, silent in a way that made it clear he wasn’t particularly happy about Veneziano leaving either.

Romano, meanwhile, stood before Prussia, shifting his weight from foot to foot, hands shoved deep into his coat pockets. The last few days had been… nice. Different, but nice. They hadn’t strayed too far from their usual ways, but there had been small changes—things couples did. Holding hands, sitting next to each other, Prussia leaning in closer than he used to. He was touchy, affectionate in a way Romano found himself growing accustomed to. Sometimes, if Romano allowed it, Prussia would even wrap an arm around him. It had all been rather sappy, really. But they hadn’t kissed, not since they made things official. Romano had made it clear he wanted to take things slow, and Prussia had respected that. He hadn’t pushed, hadn’t rushed. It had been… good. And yet, as the old saying went, all good things must come to an end. Now, here they were, in the middle of a crowded airport, with Romano set to board a plane back to Italy.

The heaviness in his chest hadn’t gone away. In fact, the closer it got to leaving, the worse it seemed to grow. It wasn’t that he was unwilling to acknowledge it… he knew he felt sad about going. But something about this sadness felt different. He wasn’t sure if it was because things had changed between him and Prussia, or—God forbid—because he’d actually enjoyed being here, in Germany, with the white-haired idiot. But he knew one thing for certain. He was leaving. And that meant he wouldn’t see Prussia again—not in person, not face to face—for quite some time…

The thought made his gaze drop to the floor.

Prussia wasn’t too pleased with this either. He wasn’t grinning. He wasn’t cracking jokes. He was quiet—hesitant, even, if that made any sense. And when Romano looked at him, he could tell he felt the same way.

Somehow, that only made it worse.

“So,” Prussia said, exhaling sharply as he broke their silence. “Guess… this is it, huh?” He tried to sound lighthearted, but the forced nature of his joke was obvious, even to himself.

Romano scoffed, ignoring the way his stomach twisted at those words. “Tch. What do you mean, ‘this is it’? It’s not like I’m never coming back.”

The albino let out a short laugh, but it lacked its usual energy. “Yeah, yeah. I know.” He rubbed the back of his neck, his gaze flickering away for a moment before returning to Romano’s. “Still… it was nice having you here.” A brief pause, then a quiet correction. “Very nice.”

Romano’s face heated up, and he scowled, kicking at the floor. “D-Don’t get all sentimental on me now, dumbass…!”

Prussia’s lips twitched into a smirk, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Too late.”

Before Romano could figure out what to say—what could he say?—Germany’s voice cut through his thoughts.

“Text me when you land in Rome,” he told Veneziano, his tone steady and serious as always. “And try to wake up before then. You and Romano were the last ones off the flight when you came here. You don’t want the staff having to wake you again…”

Despite the stern words, he was holding Veneziano’s hand affectionately, fingers curled around his as if reluctant to let go.

Veneziano, who had finally calmed down, smiled up at him—though it was clear he didn’t want to leave either. “Don’t worry, Germany! We’ll be fine!” He punctuated the reassurance with a tilt of his head before shuffling closer, arms winding around the blond’s neck as he leaned up on his toes with an obvious intention.

Germany sighed, but he didn’t hesitate. He brought a hand to the Italian’s face and leaned down, kissing him. Veneziano, his expression already bright, somehow beamed even more as he eagerly returned the gesture.

It was effortless. Natural. Normal.

Romano stared for a second too long before glancing back at Prussia, who had also taken notice of the scene. There was something in his expression… an unmistakable longing. He wanted that too. He wasn’t saying anything, wasn’t pushing, because he was giving Romano his space. Waiting for him.

That idiot. Always so loud, so proud… yet somehow the only one who had ever been this considerate of him. Romano had never expected it from him of all people, but he’d been patient. He’d cared.

And that… that deserved something in return. The very least Romano could do was give that something to him…

Heat crawled up his neck. He quickly averted his gaze, but only slightly, not turning his head away. He knew Prussia was watching him with the same quiet expression.

Taking a steadying breath, he tilted his chin upward, glancing at his boyfriend.

Prussia raised an eyebrow at the sudden movement but managed a smirk. “What? You gonna give me a kiss goodbye too, Roma?” He chuckled, clearly joking, clearly expecting nothing.

Romano flushed darker but didn’t look away. After all, he wasn’t one to run away anymore. “Shut up…” he muttered, frowning slightly as he kept his gaze locked on Prussia. His hands clenched at his sides for encouragement.

The German laughed again, opening his mouth to add something—but he never got the chance…

Romano took a step forward, closing the space between them. Before Prussia could react, hands were on his shoulders, and then—

Romano kissed him.

Prussia’s eyes widened briefly before he shut them, leaning into the warmth of it. It wasn’t like their first kiss—the drunken, heated one from before. This one was calmer. Softer. Simpler. But good. Just as good.

Prussia wanted to deepen it, but given the very public setting, Romano pulled away before they could attract too much attention.

His face was flushed, his breath uneven as he stared at Prussia like he couldn’t believe he’d just done that. His hands lingered on the other’s shoulders before he slowly pulled back, only a step.

Prussia had a bit of color on his face too, but his eyes… They were so soft. Romano didn’t want to look away.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. Then Prussia reached out, taking one of Romano’s hands in his own. He didn’t grab it, didn’t yank, just curled his fingers around it, holding him gently.

“And you’re gonna leave me hanging after that?” he teased, but the way he looked at the Italian made it impossible to take as a joke.

Then, after a small breath, his voice quieted. “I… really don’t want you to go.”

Romano’s heartbeat stuttered. His fingers twitched in Prussia’s grasp, but he didn’t pull away. If anything, he let himself be tugged just a little closer.

“…I know.” His voice was barely above a mumble, his sigh soft.

He didn’t want to leave either.

Prussia’s smile returned—smaller, quieter, but real. His grip on Romano’s hand tightened, as if trying to hold onto this moment just a little longer.

Romano let him.

Suddenly, an announcement crackled over the speakers—the flight to Rome was now boarding, and all passengers should proceed to the gate.

Romano’s head snapped up. It’s time. If they didn’t leave now, they’d miss their flight.

Veneziano turned to him and pointed toward the security check they still had to go through. “Fratello, we gotta go!”

Germany gave his lover’s arm one final pat. “You two need to hurry up.”

Romano nodded, then slowly, almost reluctantly, slipped his hand from Prussia’s grasp. The moment their fingers parted, Prussia’s face shifted, his expression bittersweet.

Without another word, both Italians hurried toward security. They passed through without issue, collected their belongings, and made their way to the gate. But before they left, Veneziano turned back, waving eagerly to the Germans who still stood on the other side.

“See you soon!” he called out cheerfully.

Germany smiled, lifting a hand in response.

Prussia waved at Veneziano too, but then his gaze flicked to Romano’s, and his hand faltered mid-wave. His smirk returned.

“Don’t forget to miss me!” he called out, waving more energetically again.

Romano flushed, immediately glancing around to make sure no one else had heard. Veneziano giggled beside him.

Scowling, Romano turned back to the white-haired German, still visibly flustered, and mouthed: “Bastard…!” Then, without another glance, he grabbed Veneziano’s arm and urged him toward the gate.

His brother didn’t resist, simply quickening his pace to match. Before disappearing into the crowd, Veneziano cast one last smile at the Germans.

Romano didn’t look back.

But, if Prussia had been paying close attention (which, of course, he absolutely was), he would’ve noticed the way a small, almost amused smile played on his lips.

Prussia and Germany lingered in the airport for a moment longer, their eyes still fixed on the spot where the Italians had disappeared.

Germany let out a small sigh.

A beat later, Prussia sighed too. “Man, now I get why you always got so melancholic whenever little Italy left for home.”

Germany gave a slight nod. “Mhm.”

Prussia kept staring, then frowned slightly. “When do they visit again?”

Germany raised an eyebrow. “You do realize we can visit them too, right?”

Prussia blinked. Then exclaimed. “Oh, shit, yeah. You’re right. Why didn’t I think of that?!”

Chapter Text

Romano tapped his foot impatiently against the smooth tile floor, the sound lost beneath the murmur of conversations and occasional intercom announcements. Arms crossed, he drummed his fingers against his sleeve, eyes fixed on the automatic doors of the arrivals passage. Each time they slid open, his gaze snapped to the flood of passengers stepping through.

Some rushed past, dragging their luggage behind them, clearly in a hurry to catch their next flight. Others strolled leisurely, taking in the bustling airport, probably tourists seeing the place for the first time. And then there were those who simply wanted to get home, their expressions tired but relieved as they stepped onto familiar ground.

Romano scowled. None of them were who he was waiting for.

His impatience was obvious, making his fingers twitch. How long was this going to take? He knew flights could be delayed, but this was getting ridiculous. With an irritated scoff, he shifted his weight onto his other foot. "This is taking too long..." he muttered, the edge in his voice earning a glance from his younger brother.

Veneziano sighed, lowering his phone to his chest. “None of my messages are going through to Germany,” he pouted, repeatedly refreshing the screen. “See?” He turned the phone toward Romano, showing the dreaded "not delivered" icon.

Romano barely glanced at it, already knowing his own messages to the other German had met the same fate. Probably airplane mode. Or a dead battery. Either way, nothing to worry about.

“Stop fussing over it..." Romano grumbled, giving the phone a slight shove. "You're ruining my good mood."

Veneziano let out a dramatic whimper. “But… but! What if the plane crashed? What if it exploded midair? What if Germany and Prussia are stranded on some abandoned island with no way to get back to civilization?!” He flailed his arms wildly, his voice rising in hysteria.

Romano shot him a look of disbelief, likely tinged with concern. Where did he even get these ideas? Damn it, now I’m thinking about it too… His frown deepened. Before he could stop himself, his hands clamped down on Veneziano’s shoulders, shaking him back and forth with growing frustration. “Would you shut up?! You’re making me worry too, idiot!”

Veneziano’s head lolled as Romano shook him. “Fratello, you’re making me dizzy…!” he whined, his voice wobbling with each shake.

The older Italian wanted to throw another biting remark his sibling’s way, but before their bickering could escalate further, the automatic doors slid open once again.

This time, it wasn’t just another stream of strangers.

Two familiar faces emerged from the crowd, looking a bit confused, if he was being honest…

For a moment, neither he nor Veneziano moved.

Then, like a rubber band snapping, Veneziano practically exploded with joy.

“Germanyyyy!!!” he exclaimed, twisting out of Romano’s grasp with surprising speed. His whole face lit up, excitement radiating off him like a puppy spotting its favorite person.

Romano barely registered his brother’s sudden escape. His focus had already locked onto the other German…

Prussia.

The albino was scanning the crowd, his red eyes flickering from face to face, as if searching for something… or someone specific. Romano felt his heart pick up pace. Was he looking for him?

Before he could think too much about it, Veneziano’s second gleeful screech pierced the air. Both Germans turned toward them, and the moment Prussia’s gaze landed on Romano, his expression shifted from confusion to a wide, lopsided grin.

Without missing a beat, the white-haired German turned to his brother, shoving his suitcase into his hands, ignoring whatever complaint Germany muttered over the noise of the airport. Then, he spun back around, lifting a hand and waving at Romano like a complete moron.

"The Italy brothers!!!" he hollered, making a bigger scene than necessary as he scurried toward the two Italians.

Romano rolled his eyes, huffing. “We’re right here, dumbass…” he muttered under his breath, though his irritation was half-hearted at best.

Veneziano, of course, didn’t seem to mind. “Hey, Prussia!” he greeted brightly before his gaze flickered to Germany, who was clearly not happy about being abandoned with all the luggage. A look of realization crossed his face before he gasped dramatically. “I’ll go get Germany!” he announced, practically skipping toward the flustered blond.

“Yeah, go help West…!” Prussia called after him with a lazy wave.

And then… it was just the two of them.

Romano felt it instantly—the way his body tensed, an involuntary reaction he couldn’t shake, even though he’d sworn to stop doing this around him. They’d been together for a month now, for God’s sake. But this—this was only the second time they were actually face-to-face since they started dating. Texting, calling, even those late-night conversations, they were all different from being in the same space, sharing the same air…

Prussia turned fully toward him now, his smirk growing. Then, to make matters worse, he spread his arms wide, clearly expecting a hug.

“What’s with the face, Roma?” he teased, letting out a small laugh. “Didn’t you miss your super awesome boyfriend?” His grin widened, and his tone was obnoxiously confident.

Romano felt warmth creep up his neck. Yeah, obviously, dumbass! But saying that out loud? Absolutely not. Instead, he crossed his arms and turned sharply, facing away with an indignant huff.

“Yeah, ‘awesome boyfriend,’ my ass…” he grumbled. Still, the way his eyes flickered toward the German from the corner of his vision betrayed him.

Prussia raised an eyebrow. “Pffft, what’s this about?”

Romano tried to calm himself, but it wasn’t easy. He couldn’t exactly admit how flustered he was—how just seeing Prussia again made his heart race like he'd been confessed to for the first time. That would only feed Prussia’s ego. So, instead, he settled on something that genuinely irritated him.

“Can’t even answer a few messages…” he muttered bitterly.

“Messages?” Prussia blinked, confusion flashing across his face, before it quickly shifted to realization. His smirk twisted into something more amused. “Ohhh,” he drawled, tilting his head. “Me and West forgot to charge our roaming SIMs. We couldn’t send any messages without WiFi.” He said it so casually, like it wasn’t a big deal…

This guy…!

Romano scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Forgot, huh?”

Prussia’s brow furrowed slightly as he watched him. He knew Romano well enough to recognize when he was holding onto irritation, but c’mon… this was different. They hadn’t seen each other since Romano’s trip to Germany. Sure, it had only been a month, but that felt like an eternity to Prussia. His thoughts raced, and after a second, something clicked in his mind. A new, knowing expression flickered across his face, and his smirk softened.

“Ohhh,” he said, stepping closer. “You… were worried about me!”

Romano immediately stiffened.

He hated how easily Prussia could read him.

“No!” he snapped, turning his head even further to the side.

But his silence from earlier, and the way his face began to flush, already gave him away…

Prussia’s smirk melted into a warm smile.

“Awwww, you totally were!” he laughed, taking another step closer, now completely invading Romano’s personal space. “You know nothing bad can happen to the Great Prussia, so no need to worry, haha!” He thumped his chest dramatically, as if trying to reassure both of them.

Romano scowled. “Don’t get so close to me!” he grumbled grumpily, but he didn’t actually push him away.

Prussia, of course, took this as an invitation.

“Well…” he hummed, stepping even closer before suddenly wrapping his arms tight around the Italian from behind.

Romano let out a startled noise, his whole body jolting. “Wh—?! Idiot—!”

“Miss me or not,” Prussia said, squeezing him even tighter. “I missed you! So let me have this.”

The Italian spluttered. “I… can’t breathe, idiot!” he grumbled, though his voice was noticeably weaker. Despite his complaints, his hands had somehow ended up clutching Prussia’s arms—not trying to pry them away, but gripping them lightly, almost as if, despite his words, he actually liked the display of affection…

(Which, if he were being honest, he did.)

Prussia laughed, his grip never loosening. “Ha! This is so much better than video calling!” he announced before leaning in slightly, pressing a kiss somewhere on Romano’s face—he didn’t really care where it landed, as long as it did.

Romano jerked at the unexpected contact, eyes widening as he turned his head sharply to glare at him.

“N-Not in public, dumbass…!” he whisper-yelled, his hands tightening around Prussia’s arms but still making no real move to escape.

The albino let out a small laugh before finally releasing Romano from his grasp, knowing better than to press his embarrassment further. But he didn’t step away completely. Instead, he held out his hand, palm open, silently offering it, a smile still lingering on his face.

Romano, still thoroughly flustered, glanced at him over his shoulder. As much as he tried to maintain his sour exterior, he couldn’t deny the truth—not to himself, at least. He’d wanted to see Prussia again. He’d missed him. His voice, his stupid grin, his warmth. And though he’d never admit it out loud, he couldn’t deny how much he’d liked being held like that…

God damn it… this guy was going to be the death of him.

The German wiggled his fingers in an exaggerated gesture, his grin unwavering.

Romano sighed, hesitated for a second longer, then, reluctantly, placed his hand in Prussia’s. His grip was stiff at first, but he didn’t try to pull away. Instead, he averted his gaze, his face still flushed.

“Happy?” he muttered, clearly embarrassed.

Prussia didn’t hesitate. He tugged Romano closer, his smile softening. “Very.”

The Italian forced himself to look away, scowling as if it might somehow hide the warmth creeping through him. “Tch… you’re so goddamn annoying…” he muttered, his voice barely more than a grumble. Yet even as the familiar sourness left his lips, his fingers curled slightly against Prussia’s, betraying him.

Prussia’s grin widened, victorious. “Yeah, yeah, but you love me anyway.”

Romano didn’t answer—his face burned too much to give the German the satisfaction.

But he didn’t let go either, and that said more than words ever could…

"Romano! Prussia! Let’s go to the car!" Veneziano called out cheerfully out of the blue, snapping the two out of their little moment. He practically bounced toward them with Germany in tow, his arm linked with the taller blond’s.

Romano sighed, trying to ignore the way his younger brother’s eyes immediately flickered to their joined hands.

“Finally…” he murmured, feigning disinterest. But even as Veneziano smiled knowingly, he still made no move to withdraw.

As they stepped outside, the cool night air rushed against their skin, crisp and refreshing after the stale airport atmosphere. Romano stole a glance at Prussia from the corner of his eye, only to find him still grinning like a damn fool.

He rolled his eyes. Idiot.

And yet… he still didn’t pull away.

If anything, he held on just a little tighter.

Because somewhere between his initial hatred and something far harder to name, there was something real. Something he wasn’t willing to let go of, no matter how much he grumbled, no matter how embarrassed he got.

And as much as he hated to admit it…

He was really looking forward to the days Prussia would be spending with him in Rome.