Being in this kind of place always gives me inspiration. WHERE EXACTLY AM I, DO YOU ASK!?!!11one Well, yeah. I'm on a trip in some old RV in the middle of Florida~ Whee. Okay but yes, that's not why I havn't updated in so long... Actually, I've been sick and.. Well.. I forgot all about 'Whatever He Wants', so I thought I'd try and get my insparation back up in some place where Spaniards once conquored ;D But, that's also a lame excuse, considering I live there.. orz

So yes. A Spain x Romano fic.. Jesus what is wrong with me? So if I get enough positive R&Rs, then I may let this become a multi-chapter story... Agh. We all know how horribly I'm doing at the 'Whatever He Wants' fic. Poor Liet. D;

Beaware of angsty, angsty Romano! 8D And also beaware of weird and obvious grammar errors. I'm using a new laptop that's not connected to the internet, so I couldn't download anything like Word Office or whatever it's called. xD

I panted hard, the remaining oxygen in my lungs not supporting me in the fit on anger which led to a mad dash to.. Anywhere away from Spain. Damn tomato obsessed bastard. It was his fault that I was out of breath, hands clutching my knees for support. It was his fault that I got mad. It was always his fault for, it seemed, everything, really. But how much of it was really his fault and how much was just my odd way of thinking? I seemed to have a lot of that lately. Everytime I was around Spain, all thoughts were blocked and my heart fluttered around in my chest like a butterfly... Or maybe a moth. My heart wasn't as beautiful and graceful as Spain's. Woah... Wait, what? I did not just think that, right? That was definatly the Tomato Freak's fault this time. If anything, the bastard's organ Should be just like anybody else's. Except for maybe Russia's; he didn't have a heart.

I looked up from trying to cath my breath, scanning the area around me. The first thing I saw was green. It was.. Everywhere! Moss scattered across the edge of the trees that surrounded me; the lush emerald leaves on top of the jade-tinted bark of the plant. I took a deep breath, trying to get out of the daze I was in. A squirrel scampering across the leaf-covered dirt snapped me back to Earth. I suddenly remembered why I was mad; the reason I sprinted away from the Spainiard. As much as I wanted to deny it, I.. Kind of cared about him. Looking back, I felt the corners of my mouth curve upward ever so slightly to form a miniscule grin. The look on his face when I walked up to him, without saying a word of warning, started screaming out a string of Italian curses, which, I think, he knew perfectly well what they all meant. He looked shocked and somewhat hurt at first, having the expression turn into a puzzled look.

"What's the pr..." he started, pausing until that confused look burst into a wide grin, a large hand ruffling my hair, "Lovi~ You look so cute when your face gets all red and you yell~" That's when I snapped. I didn't even realize what I was doing until I felt the top of my head hit something. Hard. Hearing a yelp of pain from Spain and realizing where I was, I retreated from the sudden attack. I just rammed my head into Spain's stomach, and by then, I felt my head throbbing with pain. Scanning my eyes over the nation's crumpling body, I gave a nod of approval and dashed out the door. And, unfortunatly, that's where I was now. Contemplating my feelings for the Spanish country. Did I really care for him as much as I had previously thought not too long ago? No. I hated him. I hated him because... Because everytime he looked at me- everytime he touched me, my heart started racing as fast as it had when I was running away. Even thinking about the nation made me shudder and made my breath catch in my throat, and the organ in my chest would beat almost as fast as a small mouse scared to death. Thus, said heart was racing at an unbelievable rate as I stood on the ground covered with bits of leaves and patches of grass, my mind a wonderful blur with various images of Spain.

The squirrel I noticed previously was now bravely skittering toward me. The little rodant looked a bit like Antonio. His eyes were the same shade of green. And as I looked closer, noticed that it was... Smiling. The small creature came shuffling closer to where I was standing.

"Hey," I said aloud, stretching a hand out as an offering of friendship, "You remind me a lot of Spain... I'll call you Antonio!" My brows furrowed, the small smile that was slowly forming on my face instantly transformed to a disappointing look. I growled lowly, suddely enraged with that fact that I was happy to see something even closely related to the annoyingly happy country. The animal's tiny ears perked up, its tail twitching. I swung my leg forward, trying my hardest to kick 'Antonio' as hard as I could. If I was lucky, maybe I could kill it.

Much to my disappointment, the rodent scurried away in fear, while I felt my legs give in under me, leading to a painful tumble to the ground below. I balled my hands into fists and stared at my lap, my eyes starting to sting a bit. My hands ran through my brunette hair, feeling the streams of tears running freely down my flustered face. Shuddering. Sobbing. Burrying my hands in my tear-soaked face in frustration. Why did I feel like this? Why did I only react to Spain. I.. I cared for him. More than Feliciano, more than my people.

"Lovi...?" I snapped my head around, looking for the voice that I just heard.

"W-what.." I started, only to be interrupted by the feeling of two beautifuly tanned arms wrapping around my shoulders, soon followed by a warm, broad chest pressed against my shivering back. My breath hitched, suddenly, I stopped crying, still frowning, of course.

"Lovino... I'm so sorry," the Nation hugged me tighter, his chest warming me completely, "For whatever I did. I'm sorry,"

"You..." I felt moist, inviting lips press against my neck.

Smack.

I stood up, glaring at the Spaniard, who was still kneeling down, a hand covering the noticable handprint-shaped mark on his left cheek.

"What the hell do you think you're doing!?" I screamed, my face entirely red. I felt almost lightheaded from all of the blood that rushed to my cheeks so quickly. It was obviously more from embarassment than anger. Spain stared up at me, moving his hand away from his throbbing face.

"I'm sorry, but" his eyes looked away from mine for a breif second, switching around the area until resting back on me, "can you tell me why you're so mad? I could help..." No. He couldn't help with what I was feeling. No matter what he did. He could only make it worse. That's exactly why I hate him so much. "Dammit, Spain! I'm mad because I'm around you! I hate you!" I screamed, flailing my arms around for emphasis. I glared at him with as much hatred as I could possibly muster. His expression looked so hurt. Damn.. I regret everything I just said. Why did things always have to end up like this? With me going blue in the face, screaming at the Spaniard. But the way it always ended up was that he would brush it off like it never happened, smile, and say something stupid. It would come soon, I knew it. He should smile any second, now.
Nothing. His face was still contorted in the pained, hurt way. I told Spain I hated him before... Right? It wasn't like it was the first time he heard it.

"Do... You really hate me?" He whispered in the quietest voice I've ever heard him talk in. He looked to vulnerable, sitting in the grass, on the brink of tears, staring up at an angry Italian. Me.

"I... I hate you because you always get in my personal space! You know absoloutly no privacy whatsoever! You always talk to me, all cheery and happy! You... You bastard," I said- screaming at first, quieting my voice at each word until the last sentence was barely a whisper. "Well then," he stated blankly, his eyes downcast and hollow, the light taken away by sadness. And it was all my fault.

"I suppose... If that is how you feel, then I'll cut off connections with you," No. No. No, no no! This couldn't be happening! I wanted Spain, as much as I hated to admit it. I... Wanted him- no. Needed him. If he cut off connections with me, then I would never be able to live happily. I liked the way things were! Anotonio was the only country that made me remotely content! Everybody else could go to hell, for all I cared. He looked up, his eyes still blank, consumed entirely with that sorrow. It didn't look good on him. I missed his carefree smile. I miss him being happy. I miss Spain.

Said nation slowly got up from the dirt, brushing himself off quickly, turning around and starting to walk away. I couldn't let this happen! I stumbled forward, grasping at the collar of the taller man's shirt, tugging back with as much force as I could. The result was him stumbling backward, turning around to face me. I wrapped my arms around his waist, holding him up and hugging him tightly, burrying my face in his shoulder.

"Spain, please, no!" I said, my voice muffled in the fabric of the man's shirt, "I don't want you to leave me. I hate you. I hate you because you're the only one who makes me blush, the only one who makes my heart beat really fast. You're the only one who I'm happy to be around... You... I love you, Antonio,"

Fuck.

Is that what was happening? I was... In love with Spain? I blushed furiously, looking up to check his expression. He was smiling again, the shiny light back in his emerald eyes. He returned the embrace, hugging me tightly. I almost couldn't breathe. I managed to slip out of the man's grasp, storming off further in the unkown place, blushing even more than I thought was possible. Before too long, I felt a hand crash down on my shoulder, forcing me to turn around, facing the powerful country.
I couldn't even think about what was going on until I felt the Spaniard's fingers intertwine with my own, his lips crushing against my own. My mind died for a second, closing my eyes, tilting my head slightly.

So cliche.