The Well

By: Insanity's Pen

A/N: I intended for this to be so much shorter, but...yeah...

"Stupid tomato bastard!" Romano screamed at the older Spaniard.

"Romano, por favor, you're being unreasonable!"

Spain was usually a very cheery guy and very kind toward his charge, having the immense patience to put up with the foulmouthed child.

But today proved to be different.

Maybe it was the oncoming storm and bleak weather, or the wind that was constantly blowing in his face and hindering his work, or maybe even because he'd had to awaken at an ungodly hour that morning, but Spain was not in a good mood. Coupled with an angry (more so than usual) Romano, his patience had all but withered down to a stump.

The two were currently in Spain's tomato field trying to set up tarps over the precious plants to protect them from the relentless rain that would soon be falling. Grey clouds rumbled above, lightning flashing occasionally. Romano had asked Spain for some gelato before having dinner, and when Spain had refused, an argument had broken out. The insults the small brunette threw at him only served to annoy the Spaniard even more.

"Look Roma, you'll spoil your dinner and then you'll complain about me not feeding you." Spain sighed as he secured the last of the tarps. He stood and surveyed his work with a careful eye.

"Humph! I hate you, tomato bastard!" Little Romano crossed his arms and pouted. Even through his annoyance Spain couldn't deny that he looked absolutely adorable.

"Get some water from the well; I'll put away the tools."

Romano stuck his tongue out at the man, but obeyed nonetheless and walked a few metres away to the old stone well. Spain shook his head as he began picking up the many long ropes that were strewn about the field. It would take him a while to gather and untangle each one….

"Fucking tomato bastard, always making me do the work." Romano grumbled as he kicked at the pile of rope that lay at the base of the well. He piled it and stood on it in order to use it as a sort of stepping stool to increase his reach for the pail that hung from a nail. He secured it tightly to the hanging rope and lowered it down into the water below. He peered down into the large, dark hole, a slight shiver running down his spine as he caught sight of his blurry reflection in the water and watched it ripple when the pail hit the bottom.

Spain made quick work of coiling the ropes in the area around him and only seemed to have trouble with two final ones. He pulled on one end and coiled it in one hand. As he went about the menial chore he frowned up at the clouds and briefly wondered what he'd make for dinner. The rope he was tugging seemed to have gotten stuck on something and without paying much mind to it, gave it a sharp tug.

Time slowed.

Romano, who was leaning over the edge of the stone well, did not notice that the rope at his feet had coiled around his ankle. A sudden tug caused his leg to jerk out and he lost his balance. With a terrified scream he pitched forward and fell headfirst into the well.

"Spain!"

Spain heard the sound of distress before hearing an echoing splash and making a mad dash to the well.

"Spain!" the boy sputtered out again before his head went under once more. He was thrashing around trying to desperately to grab at the pail. His lungs burned with water and they screamed for air. He managed to wrap the rope around his wrist tightly and swing his arm through the pail's handle so he could lift himself up. But even so his efforts were in vain. His weight caused the rope of the pail to lengthen and fail to keep him up. Romano could no longer keep his head above water and he was beyond tired. His limbs grew heavy, as did his eyelids. Bubbles of air escaped from his blue lips as the life slowly seeped out of him. Faintly he heard the panicked screams of the older man and felt the pail being lifted out, but it was much too slow to help matters. With one final exhale, the small Italian closed his eyes.

Spain pulled at the rope with frantic movements as he continued to yell. Romano, thankfully, wasn't a heavy child and had no trouble lifting him out. But he felt he wasn't moving fast enough and he cursed himself for it. Hot tears streamed down his face, but he paid them no mind as he carried the boy onto the ground.

"Romano!" he cried as he tried to pump the water out of the tiny boy's lungs. He tried everything he could thing of to revive him, but nothing worked.

It wasn't until the rain came pouring down that he stopped trying. He looked down at the limp body in his lap, a sob ripping through his chest.

"Romano." He whispered. His poor Romano, so cold and lifeless. He was so young, had so much to live for. And because of his own stupidity he had caused his precious child to die. If only he had been more careful instead of being so annoyed, he would still have his little tomate. "Es mi culpa."

He clutched the boy to his chest and let out an agonising scream so loud it could be heard over the sound of thunder.

Es mi culpa.