The Price To Pay

"Hey, fratello?" Veneziano called out as he turned to the other side of the bed, facing his brother and wondering if his brother was still awake.

Romano, as Veneziano expected, was indeed awake. "Go to sleep, stupid fratellino. It's 3 in the fucking morning."

The other Italian ignored what his big brother said and continued anyway. "What would it be like if we were unified again? Ve~ I bet we'll have lots of fun!" The excitement in his voice was obvious and Romano can't help but smile a bit at how ridiculous his brother sounded.

"Fun? What's so fun about being unified?" Romano muttered under his breath. Of course, he secretly wanted Italy to be unified as well and his little brother knew that but all Veneziano did was chuckle at his brother's response.

March 17, 1861

The Unification of Italy

The atmosphere of the meeting room was suffocating. Everyone was silent, but tense. I mean, who wouldn't be? The meeting was about who would represent Italy and who would be chosen to be "dissolved" or who would "disappear" because there can only be one representative.

Germany can be seen rubbing his temples in frustration, and Veneziano was looking down, fidgeting. On the other hand, America looked really uncomfortable and all France could do was nervously tug at his collar from time to time. Each and every nation had their way of showing their discomfort regarding the topic and obviously, none of them liked it but they didn't have all the time in the world and a choice had to be eventually made. A choice that never really existed in the first place.

The gun placed between Romano and Veneziano is heavy with responsibility, duty, and obligation. Even as Romano hovered his eyes above the weapon, he can feel its weight on his shoulder. It was as if the gun was meant for him. He knew that it was about time he became useful.

Romano lets a shaky breath out and the deafening silence was broken when Romano stood up and slammed his fists on the table before grabbing the gun. "I'll do it."

Alarmed, His little brother sucked in a breath and before Veneziano could protest, Spain immediately shot up from his seat, surprisingly furious. "Lovino Vargas, no." Everyone's eyes were on him, and Germany, who barely showed any emotion like the stoic potato bastard he is, was caught off guard by Spain's outburst.

Romano cocked a brow in challenge. "Oh, so you'd rather have mi stupid fratello... Dissolve?" He spat out the last word bitterly, as if it was poison on his lips.

The harsh expression previously etched on Spain's face softened, taken aback by Romano's reply. "No, I didn't mean it that way-"

Romano interrupted with a satisfied smirk. "Then it's decided." He crossed his arms as his usual arrogant expression masked his face and what he truly felt.

As stubborn as Romano is, so is his little brother. "Fratello!" He cried out, eyes wide. "I can't let you do that."

As painful as it may be, Romano knew he had to find a way for his brother to back down. He can't risk having his little brother's life ruined for something like this. Romano knew how much Veneziano dreamed of having Italy unified since who-knows-how long! God, he can still remember the nights they spent together whenever he visited his fratello, the sweet and innocent look in his eyes as he enthusiastically talked about his plans after Italy would be unified, the hope in his voice and the smile on his face as he imagined all of these things. He can't afford to lose all of that, to lose his brother. Also, the last thing he wants to happen is his fratellino to blame himself for a choice Romano made. But for this to happen, sacrifices had to be made.

"Shut the fuck up, North Italy." His brother's nation name felt foreign on his tongue and it rang threateningly in his ears. He yelled these words knowing how much it would tear his brother's heart apart, knowing how much he himself would be dying inside. "I'm not doing all this shit for you."

Veneziano was left frozen, mouth agape. His lips quivered ever so lightly, as if trying to form words but all that tumbled out of his mouth was, "...F-Fratello?" His white flag fell on the floor along with the hot salty tears that escaped his little brother's eyes.

"Don't fucking call me that. I hate it." Romano snarled back."Do you have any idea what the heck I had to go through because of you?" Another part of him died as he said that but if his brother won't stop, he's left with no other choice but to say things he'll regret.

'Dammit.' Romano mentally cursed as he hissed through his teeth.

Despite the big fat tears that rolled down his cheeks, Veneziano took a few steps toward Romano and reached out to him with trembling hands. "Don't say that, fratello. W-we can find a way around this."

Romano's fist was white from being clenched for too long and he tightened his grip on the gun with the other hand. 'For fuck's sake, Veneziano, STOP.'

With beseeching eyes, Veneziano went on as Romano kept a cold and straight face. "There must be a way without any of us having to..." He gulped and choked back the sobs that were threatening to leave his lips. "Go."

Romano closed his eyes and drew a long breath in as he gathered enough courage for what he was about to say. "Are you that fucking dense? Well let me spell it out for you. I hate you. I've always been a shadow-your shadow and do you know how difficult that was? All I want is to end this goddamn misery of mine and you wouldn't even let me? You're pretty fucking selfish, did you know that?" Romano paused, gritting his teeth and allowing himself to calm down. "I thought by now, you would realize this, North Italy."

Veneziano pulled his hand back and slapped Romano across the face. He didn't flinch nor did he react to the burning sensation that was stinging his cheek. He just stared back at his brother with an empty look in his eyes. This was what he wanted, this was what he deserved. The hit left a red hand mark on Romano's cheek but it can't be compared to the pain his brother must've felt after he said those words.

His little brother's eyes widened, the amber glinting with shock and confusion with the sudden realization that hit him. "I didn't mean to do that, fratello. I-I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" He began to profusely apologise as his wild curl crooked.

His hand shook as he tried to caress Romano's cheek only for his brother to jerk his hand away. "Did you hit me because I was right?" Romano laughed half-heartedly before scowling. "Of course, I fucking am. And I meant what I said. I hate you, so don't touch me next time or I won't be the one getting shot."

His heart wildly pounding in his chest, the ringing sound of numbness echoed in his ears, and that was it. He finally said it. For sure, his brother would hate him after what he's done. The other nations probably gasped or whatever, but Romano couldn't tell. All he can see is how his brother's arms fell limp to his sides and how his knees gave up. No more sobs, just silent tears streaming down Veneziano's expressionless face as he whispered his endless apology over and over again like a broken record. Everything was in slow motion by now. Hungary jumped out of her seat and was immediately by his brother's side and he was relieved that he could at least rely on Hungary to take care of his fratello when he's gone.

Romano could already feel his cold and harsh demeanour slipping away, his emotions getting the best of him. He shoved the gun in his pocket before exiting the room, leaving the other nations baffled by what he has done. Unbeknownst to the Italian, Spain was trailing behind him.

When Romano was sure that he was far enough from the meeting room, he punched the wall nearest to him before muttering a string of curses. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!" He was agitated by what he was forced to say, upset by what he had done, and he is angry at the damn world for it has forsaken them. He didn't really know who to blame, but that didn't matter right now.

Spain grabbed Romano's arm and pulled him to a corner, worry written all over his face. "Lovi?"

Romano slapped the Spaniard's hand away out of reflex before backing away. "I'm fine." He muttered under his breath, fists clenched. Of course, he was anything but fine but that would be the last thing he'll let anyone know and Spain wasn't an exception to that.

How can he be fine when he knew that he was supposed to disappear? How can he be fine when he knew that he would be leaving his little brother behind? He knew his fratello was much of a scaredy-cat to do it and besides, there wasn't really a choice in the first place. Everyone knew what the answer was and they'll obviously choose his lovable, enthusiatic, and wanted little brother over a scorned and cowardly dumb fuck. Besides, even if he doesn't say it out loud, he loves his fratello way too much that he'd sacrifice literally everything just so Veneziano could live the happy life he deserved with... Everyone. Everyone but him, that is. He won't be able to forgive himself if that idiotic little brother of his would be the one disappearing. He won't be able to live with the guilt.

Hearing Romano's seemingly indifferent reply, distress glinted in Spain's usually warm and welcoming emerald eyes. The silly smile that would normally play on the other nation's lips was pulled into a taut line. "You don't look fine." This damn Spaniard knew him best other than his stupid fratello and he can't deny that fact.

"Then don't look, dammit." He spat out with feigned disdain.

A distant pain tugged at Romano's heart and he stubbornly told himself that it was nothing. He had to repeatedly remind himself that the sickening churn in his stomach was nothing, that the thoughts drowning him inside was nothing, that the sadness and overwhelming fear he carefully tucked behind a scowl was nothing. What else could he have done? There was no turning back now.

"Lovi, please..." Spain was practically pleading to the other nation, his voice, hoarse and cracked. It seemed that he was in much more pain than Romano was in. How was that even possible? It was supposed to be Romano that was falling apart, not this tomato bastard. It was supposed to be him pleading... So why? Romano couldn't understand why anyone would even care. Why anyone would even bother. Most of all, he couldn't understand why of all people, it always had to be Spain. It just made no sense! He doesn't deserve any of this.

"What?!" His voice slightly cracked as well and tears were beginning to sting his eyes. This was frustrating. He can't stand anyone treating him that way. He was mad, he was lonely, he was lost. He didn't know what he was supposed to feel and that made everything worse. That made him mad at Spain for making him feel this way and madder at himself for being like this. It was just too much!

Romano was already pissed at the persistence of this Spaniard and at the same time, he was also eager to run away. He has been holding it in this entire time and his defences were slowly crumbling away. The scant pain he felt earlier was now violently clawing in his chest and no matter how much he hates admitting it, he knew he was close to collapsing to the throes of agony. He was silently praying that Spain would just walk away before he breaks apart but a small part of him also wanted the Spaniard to stay, even if that wouldn't lessen the growing distress in his heart-It was better than having to face the horrible truth alone because more than death, more than being hated, and more than anything else, he was actually afraid of being alone, of being left behind. That was the sad secret he always kept to himself.

Spain didn't say anything. Instead, he enveloped Romano in a warm and gentle hug. Romano stiffened at the touch, but he didn't push the Spaniard away. The Italian simply bit his lips as he tried to suppress the urge to burst into tears. The embrace felt secure and soothing and it felt like that was all Romano needed at the moment.

Spain proceeds to pull Romano closer, patting his head. A familiar gesture he has done since Romano was still a child and it brought back many memories.

"Really? Are you sure you mean it?"

"You'd be cuter if you were always this meek."

"Ah, how's my precious little tomato doing?"

Finally, Romano began to cry. His heart ached and he wanted nothing more than to have Spain by his side a little longer. He wept for his short predestined future, he wept for the little brother he was about to leave, he wept for the foolish Spaniard who'd only hurt himself the longer he stayed with Romano. He cried harder and harder on Spain's chest and all the Spaniard could do was rub small circles on the Italian's back and silently grieve with him.

"I'm sorry." Spain began to mutter as he himself leant closer to Romano. "I'm really sorry, mi Romanito." Sorrow was laced in every word that stumbled out his mouth.

Romano attempted to silence his sobs for a moment, taken aback by this Spaniard's sudden apology. "What're you apologising for, you jerk?"

"I'm sorry, Lovi. I'm sorry I can't protect you this time." Spain held Romano tighter as if he was going to lose the Italian any moment. "I'm sorry I can't do anything at all."

Hearing those words, Romano finally understood. "I-It's not your fault, tomato bastard." There was a long pause between them and Romano finally thought of what to say. It was simple and maybe it's the best he can do before he leaves. "Oi, can you do me one last favor?"

Spain nodded. "Anything for you."

Romano blushed at the Spaniard's reply and refused to look at him in the eye as he said, "Don't fucking cry when it happens. I want your smile to be the last thing I'll see before... Before I eventually go, Toni."

"What...?" Spain was surprised at what Romano had called him. His name sounded surreal on the Italian's lips and that was the most beautiful thing he has ever heard. This was his precious little tomato.

"I said don't fucking-"

Their little moment was interrupted as England cleared his throat, catching their attention. The Englishman gave a grim nod to both the other nations as if telling them 'It's time.' Spain held Romano a tad longer. It was a short embrace but Romano could feel the desperation and the slight clinging of the Spaniard who seemed to refuse to let him go but both of them knew he eventually had to but before he did, he whispered, "I promise. I'll smile for you, mi tesoro." Those words were so soft and Romano knew that it was only meant for him alone.

The trip back to the meeting room was silent. England was leading the way as Romano trailed behind, with eyes downcast. He counted every moment he had left, every step he had to take, recalled every precious memory before arriving. It was painful, it was beautiful, it was all that he had left. Spain squeezed his hand in reassurance, reminding Romano that he wasn't alone. That this Spaniard will be with him through the end.

Romano returned to his seat, eyeing his fratellino warily who only returned a pleading gaze back at him. This was it. Romano stood up and pulled the gun out of his pocket. He unusually felt calm at the whole process. He doesn't know whether it was Spain's warm and bright smile from across the room, the silence of the entire room as they watched in anticipation or if it was because he was about to fulfill a long overdue duty but it was serene; it was the kind of peace he's been searching for in world of chaos and war. At last, he raised the gun and for a moment, he flashed his brother a relieved smile.

Everything that happened next was quick. It all happened in a blink of an eye. His fratello practically jumped out of his chair and snatched the gun away from Romano who now stared at him wide-eyed with fear and realisation.

"FRATELLO!"

"FELICIANO!" Romano and Germany yelled in unison but it was too late. There was too little time. Everything was happening too fast, too sudden.

Romano couldn't believe his eyes as Veneziano pointed the gun to his head before softly saying, "I love you, fratello." He dived towards his little brother and at the same time, the trigger was pulled.

Bang!

The familiar body of his little brother fell limp in an instant and Romano caught his brother before he hit the floor. Blood immediately seeped through their uniforms and stained the ground.

Too sudden.

Too fast.

Too little time.

It was impossible. This can't be happening-It was supposed to be Romano covered in blood, it was supposed to be Romano laying on the ground, cold and lifeless, it was supposed to be him. Why is his brother the one in his place?

Romano's hand trembled in disbelief. His heart pounded mercilessly in his chest, his head throbbed and he couldn't feel his legs nor can he hear anything anymore. Suddenly, it was difficult to breathe and everything spinned around him. Every breath he took became heavy, became desperate. His lungs was burning. Heck, it was on fire! He doesn't know what to do, he doesn't know what the shit just happened, he can't understand. His stomach twisted and turned with a foreign pang, his heart was terribly aching as if it was being torn apart and the world still won't stop fucking spinning! He was confused, he was panicked, he was still gasping for air. But when he finally focused on the body he held, everything stopped. The spinning, the pain, the haze. It was as if the world slowed down and paused. It was almost like a dream if it weren't for the weight of his fratello in his arms and the warmth of the blood that reminded him this is real. All of this is real. His brother's eyes were still open but unseeing, the cheerful and joyous look now dull and lifeless. The warmth was leaving his body too fast.

Before Romano can register what exactly just happened, Germany shoves him aside and takes Veneziano from his arms. Romano didn't move-he couldn't move. He looked down at his bloody arms and began to breathe heavily. Nothing has hit him harder than this.

"No..." He muttered softly. "NOOOOOOO!" His cry was drowned by the chaos that has taken over in the meeting room. His fratello didn't just want Italy to be unified, he wanted him to be happy, to be also called, "Italy" like they rightfully are, to be with him. But none of them knew the cost of unifying their nation. Not until today.

"Let go, bastard!" Spain grabbed Romano and held him as the Italian thrashed helplessly. "Fratello, no. My fratello, MY FUCKING BROTHER IS STILL-" Spain pulled him out of the room with the help of a few other nations and the last thing Romano had a glimpse of is that small happy smile on his brother's lips. That was the same smile he gave Romano when he ate the pasta his fratellino prepared, the same smile he gave when Romano visited him, the same goddamn smile he gave when Romano found his pet cat. It's also the same smile that broke Romano, that fractured his heart to pieces.

Now his brother is dead and that was the price to pay for unifying the broken Italy. The price to pay for the happiness his brother dreamt for him.