Drawn Again

Prologue

This chapter isn't edited in any way, shape, or form.

Disclaimer: I don't Hetalia, KHR, or any of its wonderful characters.

Warnings: A form of character death. Rushed writing.

A/N: I had an account when I was just a mere 13 years old, once. Filled to the brim with weebish stuff such as Hetalia and Death Note angsty fanfiction. I had switched accounts to this one once I decided that enough was enough, haha. I'll always have a soft spot for Hetalia, though, despite it's- well, fandom's flaws and all that. Romano was my favorite character, and I decided to do a throwback Tuesday type of deal with writing this.

Just a note, this might never be updated again. ;a; The Hetalia/KHR crossover section is a very small archive, and I'd figure it'd be a shame if I didn't contribute to it at least once.

Enjoy!

Veneziano was sick again.

Romano frowned as he wrung out the wet wash cloth and folded it neatly, before he put it back onto Veneziano's burning forehead. He wasn't gentle, but he was cautious, so that had to count for something. He sighed as he sat back in his chair, surveying his little brother's flushed face. Veneziano was breathing shallowly and rapidly, little breaths coming out soft wheezes. Every once in awhile, his squirmed uncomfortably and let out a soft noise, expression scrunching up in slight pain.

Feeling oddly irritated now, Romano pushed himself up and left the room, lest he snap and shake Veneziano awake. Or cry. Probably both.

It wasn't hard to figure out what was wrong with him, if you lived in Italy. The city of Venice, where Veneziano originated and his own personal capital, was sinking ever so slowly. With the water level slowly rising, Veneziano was suffering. Romano was growing more worried and scared each time Veneziano called him, and begged him to come home, feeling unwell as he did.

The slight fear of one of them disappearing grew each time.

And- well, Romano was partly scared that it would be him. He was more scared, though, that it would be Veneziano. And the way things were going, that might be true. The thought was sobering and left him feeling oddly empty. Sure, there were times Romano denied his little brother's existence at times, but he cared... somewhat. It seemed like every time he was ready to openly declare his love for his younger brother, that idiot did something stupid and everything reverted back to him denying anything to do with him.

Still!

He was Veneziano's older brother.

Romano wasn't good at many things. He grew somewhat adept at cleaning, despite his slightly clumsy limbs and bad luck in the area. Farming was also something he was quite good at. Cooking was something he always proud of, considering that was the one area he was actually better at than his do-no-wrong little ball of potential and sunshine little brother. Unlike Veneziano, he didn't have many talents, he wasn't good at everything, nor did he really have the right potential to be so.

But he wanted to be a good older brother.

And what older brother would let their younger sibling die?

Stronzo!

The thing is that Romano didn't know how to save Veneziano. Maybe there was a cure, or some fairytale shit like that. But- Romano scowled as he moved around in the kitchen, absently pulling out ingredients and casserole dishes, preheating the oven. Romano didn't really fit the title of 'prince', no matter how much you looked at it. He was- well, he refused to say scared, but that wasn't too far off the marker. Not brave, yeah, that's it. Besides, Romano couldn't really say he 'knew' knew anyone, any other Nation, who had disappeared. Nono Rome, but even then, Romano didn't really know him that well. Or met with him that much.

Veneziano did.

And he was there when nono passed away.

Romano paused, that bitter and slightly envious memory sparking another one. Veneziano also knew someone, from his childhood, who disappeared, didn't he? Yeah, Romano distinctly remembers Spain warning him one time, when they were visiting Austria, to not bring him up to Veneziano lest he break down. Romano, at the time, was just offended that he needed to be warned against making his little idiot of a brother cry rather than wonder why. He had just thought it was because of his rather charming and tough personality-

It was only later Romano heard the rumors.

The Holy Roman Empire had disappeared.

While Romano didn't know him personally, only a few brief meetings that usually ended with Romano face first in the dirt with the bastard's foot grinding his skull into the ground- that was besides the point! The point was that while Romano didn't know him, Veneziano did. And Veneziano was staying with a few others who had also lived in the house at the time- er, before they had abandoned Austria, that is.

Austria, that frugal pianist who also got on Romano's last nerve probably knew.

Hungary, a really pretty and scary lady who- honestly kind of unnerved Romano to an extent with how much she giggled wildly and had nosebleeds every time he came into contact with his previous caretaker at the world meetings. Pretty, but... weird.

France probably knew, considering the rumors.

Prussia, maybe.

Spain, maybe.

Romano weighed his options, already knowing that he was sure as hell that he wasn't going to consult the bad friend trio for advice. Spain, the bastard, would probably just laugh him off, and it was hard to really decipher any real advice from his ramblings. Prussia- well, Romano usually felt gloomy for associating with him after any time they spent together. France was a fuck-face, and that- that was enough of a reason to not go to him. So all that really left was Austria and Hungary, and- that, that was manageable.

"F-fratello?" A weak voice from the entrance to the kitchen spoke, thin and scratchy. Romano whipped around, holding the skillet in front of him as a makeshift shield, almost ready to scream- not that he was scared, or anything! Startled! Yeah, that's it.

Veneziano stood in the doorway, blanket wrapped around hunched shoulders. His face was pale and thin, with deep bags underneath normally bright eyes. He smiled weakly at him.

"Don't scare me like that, you bastard," Romano seethed, placing the skillet down onto the stove top. His heart beat settled and he frowned, sending another glare at his idiotic brother. "And what are you doing up? Go lay back down, I'm making dinner, and I'll be back up there soon, idiot."

"It smelt good," Veneziano protested weakly, eyes unfocusing slightly. Romano huffed, skeptical.

I haven't even started cooking yet. "Of course it does," Romano muttered, walking up to his brother. "You didn't answer my question, bastard," he took Veneziano and carefully guided him into a kitchen chair, where he slumped down into it and grimaced.

"I- I thought you left," Veneziano admitted, with an exaggerated sniff. He blinked away tears, and smiled back up at him, and Romano could see the faint traces of the happy and healthy Veneziano in it. It was- slightly relieving, and painful, to see. "I'm so glad you stayed, ve~"

Romano was slightly torn between flushing heavily, or scowling. He managed both, somehow, and despite the painful thudding his heart was doing- it was good to see Veneziano so coherent. "Of course, you idiot," Romano scolded, softly. Gentle didn't coincide with Romano, but sometimes he managed cautious and soft, as awkwardly as he could. "You need to rest," he told Veneziano with a scowl. "You can't get better if you're up like this."

"Ah, but I'm already feeling loads better," Veneziano nodded, slowly. "So much better now that you're here with me." Romano twitched, cursing his brother's idioticness and stupidness to hell and back. That- that was fucking embarrassing to hear.

But Veneziano was sick; Romano let it go, reluctantly.

"Feeling better doesn't mean fully recovered," Romano quoted Spain, almost wisely. He scowled soon after though. "You either go back to bed, or I'll drag you to the couch. Which one?" Veneziano grimaced, before sighing and closing his eyes, breathing rather shallowly. For a second, Romano thought he was going to faint, but thankfully, he spoke.

"C-couch, please," Veneziano asked.

"Whatever," Romano rolled his eyes, and helped him stand up. He guided him to the living room, and deposited him onto the couch. He turned on the TV, and gave the remote to Veneziano with a huff. "I'll be back to give you something to drink; you better not pass out while I'm in the kitchen, got it?"

"Ve, si," Veneziano agreed weakly, sending him another meaningful glance. "Grazie, fratello," he murmured, and his eyes became unfocused the more he settled into the couch. Romano pursed his lips, and nodded curtly, hurrying back to the kitchen to make a pitcher of water and fetch a glass for him.

It was only after the evening was over, after dinner was served, and Romano helped Veneziano get ready for bed. That included helping him take a bath, and while he was in there, he quickly changed the sheets for Veneziano's bed. He also replaced the water in the water basin, and organized his medication. As Veneziano settled in, he gripped onto Romano's hand, and whimpered, eyes squeezed shut, begging him to stay until he fell asleep. Romano stayed there, silent and rigid, and he was once again watching Veneziano sleep.

It was after all that was done, and Romano managed to sneak away to his room across the hall that he managed to grab his cellphone and dial a couple of numbers. Foremost, Austria and Hungary to tell them that he was visiting sometime tomorrow, and then the potato bastard to come take care of his brother while he was away, or so help me, god, I'll fucking castrate you.

Romano never said he was good with words.

-0-0-0-

"So, have you visited Spain recently?" Hungary giggled, as she poured him some coffee. Romano stared blankly ahead, wondering if this is really his life. While he wanted to respond in kind, and be sweet to such a pretty lady that Hungary was- it was hard when she kept on bringing up his old caretaker and giggling wildly, with tissue shoved up her nose and staring at him with an annoying gleam in her eyes.

"N-no," Romano hedged, at last. "I haven't," he admitted with reluctance. Austria and him were sitting across from each other at a dining table. Hungary was fluttering between bringing them out small snacks and refilling their drinks, and just. Giggling.

Austria just sat there, sipping his coffee and reading the newspaper.

Romano was barely there for five minutes, and he was already- kind of irritated and tired.

"That's too bad," Hungary didn't look all that discouraged though. "Maybe both you and I can visit him sometime," she sighed dreamily, and Romano twitched, awkward and silent.

"Um," was all he could manage to say.

She was insinuating something, he just knew it! And he didn't know what it was- and he, kind of, really didn't want to find out what that was.

"Elizabeta," Austria sighed, finally putting down the paper to frown at her. "Leave him alone," he raised a delicate eyebrow at her. Hungary pouted, but conceded with one last knowing look at Romano, before she fluttered away out of the dining room. Austria spared him an even glance, and Romano had to refrain from scowling at the pianist bastard, clenching his fists underneath the table.

Romano still carried a grudge from being sent away from his house due to being a 'difficult' child. While it left him with a doting Spain, who he really did care for on some level, it was still a sore subject to be sent away while his brother was obviously favored.

Brother. Right. He came here for a damn reason, and that reason was not to be flustered by a giggly Hungarian and a frugal bastard like Austria.

"Italy Romano," Austria mused, making Romano stiffen. Austria's violet eyes were contemplative as he stared Romano down, and Romano had to bite his tongue in effort to not be intimidated by the bastard. "So what brings you here? I assume it's for a reason, and not for a simple visit," he stated, and Romano had to inwardly snort.

Why the hell would he fucking visit him? Especially when his little brother was so sick?

"I came to ask about the disappearance of the Holy Roman Empire," Romano said, bluntly. He hesitated at that slight widening of Austria's eyes, surprise flickering over his expression. "I need to know," he offered, awkwardly.

"Why?" Austria's expression became closed, his mouth thinning slightly. Guarded, and Romano openly scowled this time. "You don't strike me as someone who really cared for him," Austria sniffed, and Romano had to roll his eyes.

"I personally don't care about him, dammit," Romano insisted. "I care about his disappearance."

Austria's expression didn't change. "That still doesn't answer my question as to why you need to know."

Frustration built up, and Romano snapped, "Because my idiotic brother is sick, and I'm-" he clamped his mouth shut, and he glared at the table. He tapped his fingers harshly against the worn wood, trying to even out his breathing and to clear the irritation that clouded his thoughts. "I want to know because maybe if I know exactly how someone disappears I can prevent it."

How dare the damned pianist bastard make him explain himself to him? Romano glared at the surprised Austria, mouth pressed into a thin line of displeasure. He wanted to flip the table and spill his coffee over the damned bastard's face, and probably take a bat to his beloved piano for good measure.

Austria's expression was surprised, and startled. It shifted, and he looked quite stricken, before he cleared his throat, glancing away to compose himself. He straightened his shoulders, and when he looked back at Romano, his face was serious and rather expressionless. Romano flinched when that hardened expression focused on him, making him want to run far away.

"That is a very serious accusation, Romano," Austria spoke sternly. "I won't have you making up these, these lies just to get some attention," he snapped, and Romano had to sputter. "If you're not here on a serious matter, then I'd have to suggest you leave immediately."

"What the fuck, you bastard!" Romano snarled, standing up and slamming his hands down onto the table. His coffee spilled onto the floor, and staining his shoes, but Romano couldn't bring himself to care at the moment. "Why the hell do you think I'm making this shit up? Honestly, fuck you!" Anger churned his stomach, and he breathed harshly through his mouth, eyes watering against his will.

This- this was fucking stupid. Austria was stupid! Fuck him to hell and back, Romano wanted to piss on everything he loved and adored due to how stupid he was! Austria's expression crumpled slightly, before it hardened once more and it looked like he was trying to keep his composure.

"I suggest you leave," Austria's voice was tight.

"Not until I get some fucking answers, you bastard," Romano demanded.

"You won't get them from me. Now, leave." Austria ordered, and Romano faltered.

"You're a bastard, and I hope you rot in hell. Seriously, vaffanculo," Romano snarled, before turning on heel and storming out of the dining room, intent on slamming the front door once he got there. And throwing literally every vase and painting he had onto the ground on his way out.

It was only when he was about to raise an arm to clothesline everything on a passing table down to the ground when a slender, but firm, hand stopped him. He jerked out of the grasp, and whipped around to snarl, only to stop when he saw Hungary's conflicted expression. She raised a finger to her lips, and gestured for him to follow her. Romano hesitated before he nodded stonily. She lead him out of the huge mansion, and out into the rather elegant garden behind Austria's house to a secluded spot.

It was silent, heavy and awkward.

"What do you want, Hungary?" Romano murmured, carefully. It was hard to reign in his frustration from his rather explosive and unproductive encounter with Austria. "I got better things to worry about than staying here," he insisted at Hungary's look.

"I know," she admitted, wringing her hands nervously. She looked nervous and slightly downtrodden. "What you said to Austria back there- it isn't true, is it? I heard Ita-chan was sick, but-...," she glanced away, biting her lip.

And Romano couldn't stay angry at a pretty and worried woman, despite slightly wanting to hold onto that anger and let it carry him through the next few hours or so.

"Why would I lie about something like this?" Romano asked, making a crumpled expression. "And why wouldn't that bastard believe me?" He didn't want to know the answer, considering his bad history with the frugal pianist. Hungary sent him a joyless smile, hinting that she knew the answer, and that it wasn't far off from Romano's original assumptions about it.

When Austria had said that Romano was a 'difficult' child, he wasn't lying.

Romano was an angry little shit when he was younger, he'll admit that much. He did a lot of things he isn't proud of, such as pissing on Austria's lawn and making up outrageous lies to get out of work and trouble, and sometimes to get some attention that wasn't focused on his brother. Still, though, he would have thought that Austria would have helped Veneziano, even if he didn't like Romano himself. Apparently he either really didn't like Romano, or he really didn't care about Veneziano; Romano felt slightly bitter at both, especially if people wouldn't help him because he was Romano, and why would care about your brother, Romano? Aren't you always complaining about him?

Romano glanced away from Hungary's knowing look.

"So you're not lying?" Hungary asked, to clarify. Romano shot her a look of his own, and her expression crumpled. "O-oh," she swallowed, closing her eyes tightly. "Please don't be mad with Austria, please," she begged, and Romano scoffed, before flushing and glancing away in shame. He was never harsh with women, but she was begging him to do something that he felt was impossible at this point.

"No," he denied, with a slight scowl. It fell away when he glanced back at her. "I need to save my brother, and he fucking refused."

Hungary's expression softened, and she smiled a bit sadly. "Austria- he's... a really broken man, deep inside," she tried to justify. "I don't think he'd want to believe something like Ita-chan being so sick as to disappear." Romano scoffed, loudly this time. "I'll help in place of Austria, Romano," Hungary insisted, but she faltered. "But I don't see how knowing about the disappearance of little Holy Roman Empire can help."

Romano literally had nothing else to go on.

"What do you suggest, then?" Romano asked, feeling oddly helpless.

Hungary hummed, looking thoughtful. Determined now, and it was oddly refreshing to see someone else willing to help him with this. "Ita-chan's personal capital is Venice, right? I read a few reports online that said it was sinking, right?" Romano nodded, solemnly. "And he might.. Disappear from that?"

Jesus, how many times did he need to repeat that. "I feel it," Romano insisted, making Hungary nod. He did feel it, somewhat, but it was mostly his worry as an older brother that made him so anxious and guilt ridden.

"Perhaps...," Hungary said slowly. "You two need to not be unified?"

That. Was. Stupid.

While it wasn't Romano's bright idea to actually unify with his little brother, it was something he wasn't willing to risk. It was true that they were stronger together, and while it had happened so quick that it was a bit awkward and that lead to the creation of the mafia -don't think about that, Romano-, and him leaving home to stay with America for a bit- well, more than a bit. He stayed there more often than not in America's house nowadays, often torn between staying there and bouncing back to his little house in Rome, Italy. His brother had his own house that he used to share with him before Romano packed it to America, and it was more up north that left Romano feeling oddly alienated. Still, even if they were to- suddenly decide to separate, no doubt that would cause some disruptions in their people, and that would probably push Veneziano off the edge. So no, that was too risky.

Romano's expression must have conveyed what he was feeling, and Hungary winced.

"Then have you considered one of you guys becoming an... ex-nation? Like Prussia?" Hungary gently prodded, and Romano paused. Oh yeah, he had momentarily forgotten that Prussia was an ex-nation. How the hell did that ever happen, again? Romano thinks it happened when they tore down the Berlin Wall- Romano bit the inside of his cheek, squinting slightly in thought.

"How?" Romano asked, frowning slightly. "I thought Prussia was a special case."

Hungary shrugged delicately. "I don't know, but we know it's possible now," she grinned at him, and Romano blinked, feeling his face heat up slightly. He cleared his throat awkwardly and glanced away. "The only other option I see is magic, and the only one I know whose... really capable of magic is England. And I don't think you're that fond of him," at the mention of the eyebrowed bastard, Romano paled.

"Oh," he managed to say weakly.

England always scared him. Even more so after the second World War, and not to mention the scary bedtime stories Spain used to tell him in order to make him stay close to him during his colony days. That, and the fact, at the time, that England was able to get an upperhand on Spain's Armada was super scary. Romano swallowed, dryly, and considered his options. Prussia was a good choice, but just because he experienced it probably doesn't mean he knows how it happened. Magic was, well, sounds like complete and utter bullshit, but right now, Romano was grabbing at straws here.

That, and if Romano remembered correctly, Prussia was currently in Canada leaching maple syrup from America's invisible brother. Romano couldn't exactly fly over there directly, not when he was currently stuck with regular human's way of transportation. He'll have to bounce and transfer a few flights to be able to go back to the West, and he might as well cross the eyebrow bastard off the list while he was heading there. Just to get him out of the way, and to get the encounter off the list, and so he could go back to pretending that England didn't exist to him.

"Thank you, bella," Romano told Hungary, sincerely.

Hungary blinked, before giggling. "You know, you're a lot more Tsun than dere," she told him, and Romano blinked, confused. C-che? "Good luck, Roma-chan," Hungary told him, and Romano flushed, face heating up at the nickname. "Keep me updated, and go save Ita-chan!"

Romano, despite feeling rather embarrassed, couldn't help but nod dumbly back in reply.

-0-0-0-

England was a gloomy and wet country.

Romano shouldered the cold weather, pulling his expensively cut and thick jacket tighter to him. He silently cursed the fact that his leather shoes weren't going to like the murky puddles and the mist that was located in the hurried and rather bleak town of London, England. Feeling suddenly very small amidst the crowds of people who looked busy, he pushed his way through the crowd; it was faster on foot rather than on car, in this instance. And there was also the fact that England, himself, had personally banned both Italy brothers from ever driving in his country. Personally, and- that was scary, and Romano didn't want to know what would happen if he broke England's personal rules.

He highly doubted he'd live through that encounter.

Every once in awhile, Romano would glance down at the GPS on his phone, making sure he was going the right way. Soon enough, Romano found himself standing in front of a very new looking building, making Romano inwardly snort. Either this building was just built to accommodate England, or he really spent all that money and time refurnishing it to look like this. Romano wasn't one to complain considering that he lived in his capital, but most Nations didn't due to the lack of privacy. Not that it mattered much to Romano, considering he usually stayed with America most of the time, and America's house was fucking huge.

And was located in the outskirts of Washington DC, a little bit more on the Virginia side of the border. It was close enough to reach the capital within a day, but far enough so the house would be rather secluded, and had a lot of farmland.

Romano forced himself back on task, trying not to talk himself out of it, or distract himself any longer. Just a deep breath, Romano straightened up and pressed the button on the side of the stairs that lead up to the entrance. An annoying buzz rang off, and after a few moments of silence, a voice spoke.

"Italy Romano? What are you doing here?" England asked, barely holding in his surprise.

Romano scowled rather instinctively, before curbing his expression into strained politeness. "I need to talk to you," bastard, Romano added silently. Romano had came prepared with blackmail and threats, he was prepared for this encounter. That didn't stop the fear from making his knees shake, and his heart rate accelerate, making him almost want to cry. For Veneziano, he reminded himself viciously.

England sounded vaguely annoyed now. "And why do you want to do that?" He sounded dubious, and Romano inwardly sighed.

"For...," Romano hedged, carefully and awkward. "Reasons?"

"Reasons?" Came England's bland reply.

"Just let me in, you fucking bastard," Romano groaned, wrapping his arms around himself. "It's fucking cold and wet out here," he offered a bit more, mentally congratulating himself on the fact that he was able to think ahead, and sent his suitcase back to America so he could just go back and grab it before he heading over to Canada's house. He was also glad that he wasn't sobbing in fear right now, and running far. Far. Away.

There was an ungodly silence.

"Fine," England finally grumbled, "What type of host would I be if I just let you die out there," Romano paled. "Just wait, I'll be down there in a minute or so," he told him primly, before the connection was cut. Romano sighed a breath of relief, closing his eyes and trying to calm his rapidly beating heart.

It wasn't long before the apartment's entrance swung open, and eerily bright green eyes stared at him, England's expression dry and pinched. He eyed him, before sighing and pulling back.

"Come in, and let's talk about those reasons, huh?" England invited him inside, and Romano slowly inched inside, eyes roaming and posture rather stiff. He almost jumped a meter in the air when England gestured at him, yelping slightly. England raised an eyebrow, "Let me take your coat and hat, Italy Romano," he grumbled, looking personally offended.

Romano flushed, scowling slightly. "I thought you were going to attack me," he defended weakly, taking off his heavy coat and hat, handing it to the other Nation gingerly. "Don't somehow ruin those; those are expensive," he warned as an afterthought.

"Why the bloody hell would I attack my guest?" England questioned, with a heavy roll of his eye. He, almost mockingly slow, put Romano's coat and hat on a nearby coat rack, turning towards Romano with an impossibly large eyebrow raised.

"You're England," Romano muttered, and England blinked.

"How- you know what? Let's stop the conversation there," England sounded pained, and slightly irritated. He brushed past Romano, gesturing for him to follow. "You're lucky you're in time for tea. A little conversation is better with tea, after all," he told Romano, seriously.

Tea? Romano mentally made a face; he was more of a coffee person, to be honest. But he heard America's stories about how England took his food and tea very seriously, and so, Romano didn't want to push his boundaries and accidentally offend him.

"Sure," he ground out, following the eyebrowed bastard through his huge ass building. It figures that he would have the whole damn building to himself, Romano thought. It was surprisingly bright in here, though; Romano was half-expecting it to be dim and gloomy as it was outside.

As England poured the tea, and Romano was ordered to sit on a rather stiff loveseat- Romano took the time to rehearse what he would say to the bastard. Help me cure my brother, and make sure that neither of us disappear, you bastard, was the main thing Romano was going to hedge on. England's voice broke through Romano's concentration, bland and rather curious.

"So what brings you to my humble abode, Italy Romano?" England raised an eyebrow at him. Romano twitched, accepting the steaming cup of tea reluctantly. "Sorry, I didn't add anything to it; I don't know how much creamer or sugar you would have wanted," England apologized, and Romano shrugged halfheartedly.

"S'okay," he muttered, staring into his tea cup. His dark reflection was shown back, and Romano sighed, taking a sip. It was easier to drink tea if it was bitter, to be honest. "I came here to request a favor," he finally spoke, awkwardly and quiet.

"What?" England blinked.

"Don't make me fucking repeat myself, bastard," Romano snapped, halfheartedly.

England matched his scowl with an irritated huff. "My apologies, but I don't speak bloody mumbling," he drawled, making Romano's scowl deepen. "A favor, you say?" England leaned back in his seat, sipping his tea contemplatively. His sharp green eyes eyed him rather shrewdly. "I didn't take you for the type to ask for anyone's help, much less mine," he said, at last.

"It's serious!" Romano gestured, feeling frustrated at the fact that people just- refused to believe that Romano sometimes needed help sometimes. While it was flattering to think that at first, it slowly grew more and more frustrating due to the fact most other nations wouldn't help because they thought Romano wouldn't accept it. Well- he probably wouldn't, but it was still fucking polite to ask anyways, wasn't it?

"It seems so," England's eyebrows raised. "If you're here."

"Just- hear me out, dammit," Romano set aside his barely touched tea down, shifting in his seat. His expression was twisted in his expression. "Have you heard about my brother?"

"Italy?" England blinked. "What about him? I heard that he has been sick for awhile now, and that is affecting some of Europe's economy, but that's all I know." Italy, Romano repeated dully in his head. To other nations, Veneziano was often called just 'Italy', while Romano was just called 'Italy Romano'. There were special cases, of course, but-

Damn it all, it still fucking stung.

Do this for your brother, bastard, Romano reminded himself.

"He is sick, really sick," Romano admitted, uneasily. "I have some concerns about it. He is sick because the city of Venice is slowly sinking, and- well," Romano averted his eyes to glare upwards, above the bright blond that was England's messy hair. "How do I make him better?"

"I'm not a doctor, you know," England said, solemn and annoyed.

"I know, but- magic," Romano gestured vaguely at him. He frowned. "You do that magic shit, don't you? And this is more serious than just a simple illness, dammit," he insisted before he hesitated, glaring down at his folded hands. "I'm- he might disappear," and I'm worried about it.

England squinted at him, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms. Romano tried not to fidget uncomfortably as his scrutinizing stare was unwavering and rather hard. At last, England sighed. "You're being serious, aren't you? Not just some silly Italian anticis that I'd expect coming from both you and your brother?"

What the fuck?" "No," Romano denied, hackles rising. "This is serious! I'm serious," he insisted, hotly. "I already went to Austria's fucking place for help, but he's a dirty bastard and refused to give it to me. My next option is you," and the Prussian bastard. But Romano clamped his mouth shut on that one, knowing full well that if he made it seem like England was his last, and only, choice, that could perhaps work in his favor.

England was silent, chewing in his lower lip and eyes darkening with contemplation. "I'll help," he decided at last. Romano almost collapsed with relief, feeling some tension leave his muscles. "I don't know how much of a help I can be, but I'll be willing to help as much as I am able," England told him, seriously. "Truth be told, I never had to deal with disappearing Nations, so any help I might be able to offer might be unconventional. Is that okay?"

Romano nodded. "As long as my brother doesn't disappear, dammit," was all he said, and England nodded. He stood up, brushing off his clean slacks and nodding towards him.

"Follow me, my library archive is just down the hall," England said. "There should be something there about how disappearing countries work, and whatnot. And if we're lucky, there might be something there to help you."

As it turns out, the library archive was surprisingly brighter than Romano had thought. He had thought that there would dark shelves, and a dim room filled with creepy cobwebs. Perhaps the only light would only be candlelight. But sadly, no, and it was lit with florescent lights installed on the tall ceiling. It was clean and neat, though a few boxes were scattered here and there, seemingly acting as placeholders for small tables.

"I've relocated a few times," was all England said, with a mindful shrug of his shoulders.

And that was the only thing spoken for the next few hours, besides Romano's grumbling and complaints and England's irritated huffs.

They were sorting through book after book, flipping through the pages and frowning at them. English was something Romano had barely learned to read in the past hundred years, and that was only because Romano took off to America a little bit after he unified with his little brother. That is to say, the swirling and rather clunky yet graceful English cursive was a bit hard to read for him, and Romano had to squint really hard at the pages to make sense of it.

Both of the Nations had resorted to grabbing armfuls of books, and sitting on the ground, sorting through them with painstaking concentration. During this time, Romano's phone had went off a few times, much to England and Roman's mutual annoyance. At last, when the phone started to vibrate and let out the Italian national anthem once again, Romano answered.

"What the fuck do you want, bastard? I'm busy," he seethed, pausing in the middle of his work to focus on the conversation. England let out an irritated sigh, but continued to sort through the books, impossibly large eyebrows furrowed as he sorted through them.

"Roma~" Spain's irritating and chirpy voice answered him, making Romano roll his eyes heavily. Great, just great; Spain's ramblings was long and drawn out, and it'd take forever for Romano to get him to shut up and leave him the fuck alone without fully hurting his dumb feelings. Romano shifted, making a grunting noise to answer. "It's been so long since we last talked," Spain continued, sounding disheartened.

"I'm. Busy." Romano reiterated. "What do you want?"

"Busy with what?" Spain sounded dubious. "Oh! Er, what do I want? I wanted to hear your voice, Roma! Just this morning, I was sleeping before I had to go into work for my Boss, ya' know? And I was just finishing up my breakfast, and was going to do a quick check up on my tomatoes before I wondered what you might be doing. I wanted to call you then, so I called around to see if you were there. America had said that you went to visit Ita-chan, and so I called Ita-chan's place. Then Germany picked up! I was really surprised. Anyways, Germany said that you went to Austria's place! So I call Austria, and he said he had no idea where you went. So I was at a lost before Hungary called me, and told me you might be in Canada's house, or England's."

Romano felt a headache began to build up, and he rubbed his forehead.

"But I don't know who Canada is," Spain admitted, after taking a deep breath. "And I don't think you were at England's house either because you're scared of him, ya' know? So- er...," he trailed off, sounding vaguely confused. "Where was I again?"

Romano tsked, "Idiot." He shot a glance at England, who was seemingly entranced in a book that he had picked up. His eyes were scanning the pages intently, something like realization dawning on his features. Romano felt a bit of anticipation build up, and he tried to focus on his conversation with his previous caretaker. "I have a fucking cell phone, you bastard. Why didn't you call me on that first?"

"Oh! Oh, er," Spain sounded at a lost. "I just didn't think of that, I guess, haha."

"Idiot," Romano gritted out. He felt a slight nudge on his side, and shot a quick glare at England, who gestured at the book he had been reading. "I got to go, dammit," Romano tried to cut off the conversation there.

"Wait, where are you, Roma?" Spain interrupted before Romano could disconnect. "Boss is really worried!"

"I'm at England's, bastard," Romano snapped, before pulling the phone away from his ear. "Now goodbye," he disconnected before Spain could interject, and he sighed, shoving the phone into his pocket. He turned to face England's deadpanned expression, and raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"Nothing," England said quickly, clearing his throat. He held up a book and said, "I think I found an answer in this book, but it causes some- well, it's probably not what you might have thought to be a solution. It's pretty farfetched, but should work," England's dubious tone was ignored as Romano huffed.

"Well? Go on," he ordered.

England scowled slightly. A pause of uncertainty, and England's scowl fell away to seriousness. "One question to ask before I begin: how far will you really go for you brother, Italy Romano?"

Romano wanted to snap, anything, you bastard.

But he stopped short at England's serious and solemn expression, something akin to nervousness building up his heartbeat and making something cold shudder it's way down his spine. Licking suddenly dry lips, Romano glanced away and thought about it for a quick moment. Veneziano was someone Romano always compared himself to, was always slightly jealous of, and was someone Romano knew that he couldn't hold a fucking candle to. Ask anyone else, and they'd choose Veneziano over Romano in a heartbeat considering the fact that Veneziano was a ball of fucking sunshine, and Romano was sulky and temperamental brat, under certain circumstances.

But would Romano choose Veneziano over himself?

What a dark question.

Selfish or selfless, what would Romano want to be known as? Perhaps it was a mix of both considering the fact that he was selfish to be wanting to be known as selfless. What a good older brother to give up his needs for his younger brother, right?

For Veneziano, Romano reminded himself viciously.

"Anything," Romano answered, at last. He gave a wild look at the solemn England, heartbeat thudding painfully in his chest. "I'd go as far as I need to for my younger brother," dammit, Romano added mentally.

England's expression didn't change much except for the solemn and self-depreciating twist of his lips. "Then I have a solution to your problem, then."

-0-0-0-

The solution was, to be put shortly, was a spell. A spell that would make Romano an ex-nation of sort. Only it involved Romano's current existence to be put through something call 'rebirth', and he'd be reborn as a human. Whether or not he'd keep his memories was up to debate, and Romano felt fucking scared at the thought of going through this.

Nonetheless, he insisted to do the spell as quickly as possible. Without saying goodbye to his idiotic little brother, and what little people who cared about him. On the bright side, if he was reborn with his memories- this wouldn't be a permanent goodbye.

"Are you sure you want to do this now?" England once again asked.

Romano swallowed dryly, tears making his eyes wet. Fear was making his limbs and fingers tremble, and he took a shaky breath. "If I don't do it right now, I might change my mind," he answered, quietly. He cleared his throat. "I- I won't give myself a chance to do that if I do this now."

For Veneziano.

-0-0-0-

Needless to say, Italy Veneziano felt better, even stronger than before. Though he was left feeling oddly distraught, and worried for his older brother who never returned home. This would eventually lead to Veneziano trying to discover where his brother had went with the help of a few other nations, trying not to think of the worst.

Also needless to say, Sawada Iemitsu and Sawada Nana of Namimori, Japan, had just received news of a second pregnancy. Sawada Tsuna was only 5 years old when he learned that he was going to be an older brother.

No one really knew how this would have affected the world in the years to come.

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Finals are over, by the way. Expect more updates to come for my other stories.

:D

-mms