A sequel to "You are Cute" because Romano/Kid is something that's never been seen before and seems fun!

Also, I have updated "You Are Cute" with an extra 4k words and improved writing in case you want to check it out. I recommend that you do because the tone of it has changed drastically to fit my sadistic angst needs.

Warnings: Language

Enjoy!

Something was wrong.

Literally the entire world felt it.

It wasn't too noticeable at first. The usual chaos and noise that accompanied world meetings kept a majority of the nations distracted. Everyone was trying to speak over one another, faces pulled into tight smiles that didn't reach the eyes as they conversed as politely as they could managed.

Spain had realized it first, and tried to find a solution. When it was apparent that it was much more serious, his gaping had caught Veneziano's attention. And Germany is never too far behind when something makes Northern Italy fuss. Germany being unsettled sparked the interest of many others, and soon the entire conference room had quieted down to faint murmurs.

They tried not to make their staring obvious but it wasn't too hard, considering the target of this confusion was too dazed to care. Even America stopped his bickering with England in favor of quietly watching, his cup of expresso forgotten.

Italy Romano was sitting at his designated seat; scowl absent from his face. That in itself wouldn't have been such a big deal- those who knew the Italian knew that Romano can be surprisingly civil and polite. But it was the fact that Romano literally had the world's attention, and he still hasn't noticed. Instead, his lips were pressed together into a thin line that betrayed no emotion. His green eyes seemed to be staring beyond the meeting room.

In his hand was a small rose that was continuously twirled by his fingers. He let out a deep exhale, his brow furrowed.

That was not normal.

"F-fratello?" Veneziano whispered, and tilted his head when Romano let out another sigh.

"Ve...Germany, is Romano sick? The Northern Italian turned his head with worry, tugging at the German's sleeve. The blonde stammered, and pulled the other man's hand off with a mumbled protest.

"I-I don't, well I uh, Spain!" He hissed at the Nation of Passion with a glare, gesturing towards Romano pointedly. The Spaniard chuckled nervously, and mumbling an soft apology before turning to poke his former charge in the cheek. The world watched with bated breath when Romano didn't immediately swat Spain's hand away.

"Romano~" He drawled out, a soft smile on his face. This should get some kind of reaction out of him.

"Hm?" Romano's reply was soft and distant.

Spain's jaw almost dropped. He was still poking Romano's cheeks incessantly, something the Italian always told him he hated. Yet, he was barely reacting?

"R-Roma?" He tried again. His voice was soft, shaking a bit in disbelief.

"I said what?" The Italian's eyes trailed over to spare him a disinterested glance-the smallest glint of irritation in them, before returning to rose.

"Is something wrong, Romano?"

That got the other man's attention. Romano's head snapped up as he flinched and he turned to stared at Spain with wide eyes. As if blinking out of a trance, his gaze then shifted to give the conference table a quick check. His sun-kissed skin flushed when he met eyes with several dozen curious ones. He pulled his arms off the table, taking the rose with him, out of sight. He glared at the table, his lips trembling.

"I, uh, fuck. N-nothing's wrong! What makes you think there is, stupid Spain?" He scowled, his eyes narrowed in annoyance. His cheeks were warm with embarrassment, and when he spared a glance up, he noticed the nations across the table were still staring. His lips formed a snarl, and he slammed a fist on the table. "A-aren't we in a meeting? Stop staring at me and pay a-attention, damn it." He derailed into a tirade of whispered curses in Italian. Fuckkk...he shifted to bury his flushed face in his hands. Being the center of attention was so nerve-wracking. How embarrassing.

The tension in the meeting room slowly disappeared, and the others nations took a deep breath of relief before returning to their usual antics, turning their eyes away from Romano. So Southern Italy hadn't been replaced by some weird copy after all. Everything is normal.

"Wahh, Romano you had me scared for a second there." Spain let out a puff of breath, poking Romano's cheeks again.

"What the hell you talking about?" He slapped the playful fingers away, growling; he turned his head away, catching the sight of Veneziano snuggling up to Germany and he grimaced. Stupid fratello-

"Because you weren't being yourself." Spain's cheerful voice met his ears, and he turned away with a scowl.

"Asshole, are you saying that I can't be normal when I'm not...not.." He glared, unsure of what to say. What constituted as normal Romano for the world? He wasn't sure. Spain just chuckled, the sound giving him a headache.

"Yup, you just aren't the same, my little tomato~"

"Shut up!" And the both of them did as Germany began yelling for the continuation of the pointless meeting. Things settled down a bit, but Spain couldn't help noticing how Romano continued to rub his fingers against the petals of the white rose gently.

Veneziano tilted his head, his lips curved downwards as he watched Romano twirl his fork around his food, never once lifting it up to eat. He had watched Romano throughout the entire meal in such a meticulous way, he bet Germany was proud. Food was something that both brothers had always take seriously, no matter how pissed off or sad they'd be. Wasting food was a great sin, so the two always made sure to finish their plate. Yet, he had watched Romano glide his spoon into the soup, stare at it, pour half of it back into the bowl and taking a tiny sip before repeating. Then he had watched Romano roll the cherry tomatoes around the salad plate, answering Veneziano's questions with half-hearted answers. Veneziano exchanged a worried glance with Germany before clearing his throat.

"Ve...fratello, are you sure you're alright?" He asked softly. Romano flinched; his fork clanged against plate when his head snapped up to stare at Veneziano and Germany. For a split second, both of them saw the unguarded look of- surprise? fear?- before it was abruptly erased as he pulled up a facade.

"O-of course, idiota, why wouldn't I be?" Romano muttered, finally lifting his fork to take a tiny bite of noodle. He never met their curious gazes.

"Fratello, you've barely touched your pasta, and it's your favorite, si?"

Romano started at the observation, and looked down at his cold plate. Oh that's right, he had even forced Germany to treat them to lunch at his most favorite high-end restaurant in France. Even he could admit that the pervert had some passable culinary taste buds. This was probably one of his favorite places to eat at outside of Italy and Spain.

"I-I'm not hungry, that's all." He blatantly lied, and winced when he heard his brother gasp dramatically.

"G-Germany! Romano said he's not hungry for pasta! We love pasta. This has never happened before. Fratello, are you sick? I'm scared!" The younger Italian cried, and Germany rubbed at his face with a tired sigh.

"Italy, why don't you go down the street and buy some ice cream. You said that there was a famous cart, ja? Maybe that will cheer your brother up. I'll take care of the bill." Before Romano could protest that he was fine, Veneziano had already gotten up to run for the door. They could hear his soft strained hums of "gelato~ gelato~" all the way out.

Romano inwardly scowled, and took out the white rose to absentmindedly twirl again. However, he couldn't even bring himself to think about the Kaitou Kid, not when he could feel Germany's steely gaze boring into his forehead. He subtly observed the man. His posture was stiff as usual, the bags under his eyes spoke volumes of his exhaustion, which was how everyone usually felt after a meeting. Hell, Romano just wanted to roll on home, and take a long-deserved siesta. Germany's eyes were burning with unanswered questions, and Romano could feel it weighing down on his mind. Fucking nosy asshole.

"Stop staring, potato freak." He muttered when he finally couldn't take it anymore. He watched with a spark of satisfaction when Germany flinched, looking away in embarrassment. His fun was ruined when the German quickly regrouped, hiding his discomfort under a solid mask.

"Romano, what is bothering you?"

Romano's hands froze, and he stared at the almost dry petals of the rose. Who the fuck did Germany think he was, asking such a thing out of nowhere. And how was he supposed to answer that? What bothered him? Hah-he could feel his thoughts derailing into a familiar void, accusations hissing in every part of his mind. Let's start with the fact that Vene can't seem to keep his hands off of you, and your grubby potato-greased hands can't seem to push him away either. And there's also the fact no one seems to take me and Vene seriously, treating us like we're stupid and weak when we have conquered so many as well. After all the things we've been through- being passed back and forth between nations like a couple of rubber balls, the separation, the Unification, the fucking wars that you pulled us into- that you tricked Vene into, we're anything but weak. Spain's also an asshole who can't-who won't see me as an adult. There's also the fucking Kaitou Kid who showed up and ruined everything that I am in just one fucking night and now I can't stop thinking abou-

"Why do you care?" He said instead, swallowing his barrage of thoughts. He lifted his head to truly look at Germany, all his dissatisfaction and hate dissolving into just one word- tired. He just wanted an honest answer for once.

Germany didn't seem to get it.

"Look, you being upset will get your brother up in a fit, and I don't need two upset Italies."

Romano's heart sank, and he let out a derisive snort, turning back to his rose. Ah yes...Vene, Vene Vene. It's always about Vene. The fucking German never changes.

"So you're only caring about me to comfort Veneziano huh?" He drawled out, his fork stabbing into the pasta.

"W-what, you're changing the subject!" The blonde groaned, rubbing the bridge of his nose irritably, and Romano felt like bashing his head against the table. He pushed away from the table, edging his chair back to balance precariously on two legs.

"Listen bastard; is it that wrong for me to...act normal?" Was that the right word? Is that what's got everyone's panties in a twist? Because he was starting to let the storm in his mind bled onto his face?

Germany froze at his quiet tone.

"Excuse me?"

Romano rolled his eyes. "Is it that wrong for me to act normal?" He repeated, lowering his head while crushing the stem of the rose. The thorns dug into his skin but he ignored it.

"H-hey, I didn't mean it that way." Germany began defensively, afraid that he had steered the hot tempered Italian the wrong way. His eyes were focused on the tight grip Romano had on the rose; he could see the blood starting to well. Before he could voice his concerns, Romano stood up, slamming his hands on the table. Surprisingly the rose survived the man's temper.

"Tell Veneziano that I'll be back home late." His voice was completely flat. There was no use talking to a stubborn German who didn't understand.

"W-wait! Where are you going?" Germany stood too, ready to chase him down.

Romano stared at the rose with a strange expression before giving a soft laugh.

"I wonder." Then he left, leaving Germany to wonder what was wrong with Romano. But he frowned when he remembered what Romano had asked him.

Is it that wrong for me to act normal?

As if any part of that circus show was normal. Germany sighed, sitting back down taking a bite of his food, which had already gone cold. He looked across the table at the untouched plate of pasta. Great, there goes his hard earned money.

A moment later, Veneziano appeared with three gelatos in his hand.

"Ve Germany, I couldn't decide which flavor I wanted so I got all three! Chocolate, vanilla and-" The Italian slowed to a stop. His grip on the cones tightened. The only betrayal of his emotions were the creases on his forehead.

"Where's Romano?" His voice was soft and quiet- uncharacteristic enough to send shivers down Germany's spine. He didn't want to see such expressions on Veneziano's face. Never again.

"Ah...he said he had something to do and won't be home until late. Don't worry too much." Germany forced a smile on his face, and Veneziano stayed quiet.

"Come on, Italy...I'll walk you home, ja?" Germany bit his lip as he reached down to grasp the hand Veneziano was holding the vanilla cone with. "This does look good." He mumbled with a slight flush on his cheeks as he dipped down for a quick bite. Veneziano blinked, staring up at him for another long minute before brightening. He intertwined his fingers with Germany's tightly, his cheeks rosy.

"Si, then I get to eat fratello's gelato too!"

"You're getting it all over our hands, Italy!"

Romano had barely made it down a street in Paris when he was suddenly yanked into an alley.

His assailant put a hand around his mouth to keep him from yelling out. Romano cursed and kicked his leg back, catching the figure in the groin. He heard a yelp, and was out of the figure's hold. The stupid sun was in his eyes and he couldn't see a face, only the outline of a figure curling in on itself.

"Oh mon cher! I am proud of this thing! Don't damage it!" He flinched and his instincts told him to stand prepared to fight. But that stuffy voice combined with the heavy accent could only belong to one nation.

"F-Francia?" He hissed, crossing his arms over his body. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" The sun disappeared behind a cloud, and he shivered, watching France slowly gather himself.

"Humph how hostile, this is my place after all. Of course I'll be around. That question should be reserved for you, non?" The Frenchman sniffed and Romano growled.

"In case you forgot, there was a meeting here. Of course I'd still be around too. Now if you don't have anything useful to say, piss off. I'm going home." He turned around. His gaze fell towards the rose on the ground, dirtied by the dust and for a split second, his chest tightened with panic. He bent down quickly, his pants gathering dust as he swiped the flower off the ground. He brushed the dirt off it gently, avoiding any chance of damaging it before pulling it close to his chest with a shuttered sigh of relief.

The entire time, France just stood by quietly, observing Romano's strange actions with a frown.

"What's that?" He asked softly, trying to appear nonchalant.

"What?" Romano carefully put it back into his pocket, barely hearing the question.

"The white rose." France pointed with a neatly manicured nail, his expression curious.

Romano stiffened, and turned away.

"None of your business." He muttered, and began to leave the alley. But France surged forward, grabbing his uniform sleeve. "Wait-"

"Let go!" Romano growled with a flinch, yanking his arm away. He immediately backtracked, never losing sight of France.

"It's Kid, isn't it?" Came France's accusation.

Romano froze, the breath knocked out of him.

"I don't know what you're talking about." The Italian whispered, but his voice was shaking.

"Kaitou Kid. He had a heist recently at your home, oui?" France said sharply, and Romano stopped moving back.

"..."

"So it is." France sighed, running a hand through his silky hair.

"How..." Romano sputtered, and France chuckled.

"He first appeared in Paris in that thing remember?" France nodded his head towards the Eiffel Tower.

"...You met him?"

"But of course! I was there for Phantom Lady at first." France smiled warmly, as he turned to stare at his Tower in nostalgia. "She was such a charming beautiful woman. I'm sure she still is! It was one of her last heists. Then," France turned back to face Romano with an excited grin. "He appeared too! He was strange and mysterious, appearing out of nowhere in his white suit. He was unlike any other human I've seen in so long. He left me this." Romano leaned in close, eyes growing wide when France pulled out a laminated transparent card. Pressed in it was a white rose, long dead but preserved to stay white.

This made Romano's heart skip. He thought that he had finally gotten something that belonged to him and only him. He never had anything to himself. He had felt so happy when he discovered the white rose tucked into his breast pocket when he woke up after the heist. He finally had something that belonged to him solely.

Kaitou Kid's attention.

But, after looking at the card, he guessed not.

"R-Romano? Mon cher?" France frowned at Romano's face. The Italian's expression held a mix of disbelief, sadness and betrayal. Then he looked down, bangs covering his eyes.

"Are you here to rub it in my face?" He ran a hand through his hair, an ugly laugh ripping out of his throat.

"W-what?"

"Well, I knew it." He stepped back again, his eyes trained on the ground. "Looks like I can never be the happy one."

"Romano I don't know what you are talking about-" He was cut off by Romano's furious glare. France flinched back. The last time he saw such rage in the Italian's eyes was so long ago.

"Vaffanculo." Romano swore with a hiss, and ran out of the alley with France's surprised yells behind him.

"Romano!" France called again but trailed off when he saw that the man was already out of sight. He exhaled deeply, holding the laminated card close to his heart.

"I only wanted to warn you...that the thief will break your heart..."

Romano turned to the flight board with a yawn. There was a flight for Naples taking off in another three hours. Great, he had no intentions for staying in this place longer than he had too.

He could call his private jet, but he was pretty sure he would have to go meet his boss afterwards since the plane runs directly under his boss. And he was in no mood for listening to the man blab on and on about shit that would ultimately rely on Veneziano's final decision.

He sighed but gave the airport attendant a wink, making her giggle with a blush. He took a deep breath, reaching into his pocket for his credit card, and opened his mouth starting to ask for a ticket but stopped when the flight board flashed to a different schedule.

A flight for Tokyo, Japan taking off in an hour.

His heart skipped another beat, and he cursed himself for the heat rising on his face.

His mind raced back to the rose, and the one France was holding. Did the perverted bastard actually care about Kaitou Kid? Did Kid really give France a flower? Considering the fact the first time Kid appeared was almost twenty years ago and France still had it with him, it must've meant something to the nation, right?

"Um, sir? Is there a flight that you wish to board?" The girl stammered shyly, and Romano snapped out of his daze. He gave the board one last look before smiling at her. Well, as if he'd lose to the fucking creep.

"Si, one ticket for Flight 4869 to Tokyo, Japan." The woman nodded with a small smile, and turned to her computer. Romano chuckled under his breath.

That thief had stole a kiss from Southern fucking Italy, and he wasn't going to get away with it.

End of chapter 1. Hope you enjoyed. Please review! Also sorry if Romano was out of character but he was distracted ahaha.

EDITED: 2/17