Warning : long one-shot is long, Romano's vocabulary, OCs

Pairing : SpainxRomano and SpainxBelgium, side of Italyxfem!Germany and Germanyxfem!Germany

Please don't kill me for the pairing who claims the majority of this fic...

This story is inspired from a song in my language, titled "All About Us" in English. It is a very sad song with a very sad music video and for some reason I just had another angsty idea of SpainxRomano from the song, so once again, please don't kill me...

The sentence in bold is the lyric of the song. I translated it into English without changing it, so even though it says "her" instead of "him", it doesn't refer to SpainxBelgium.

I do not own Hetalia nor the song.

Time seems to be passing by, leaving a story about us

She was a seven year old little girl. Wavy blonde hair tied back in twin ponytails, emerald eyes shifted from one photograph to the other as she craned her neck to see them.

There were many photographs. Placed in nice frames and were lined on top of the fireplace, high and out of her reach.

There was one of her mom and dad smiling, dad's arm around mom's shoulders. There was one of their wedding, white gown and white suit and mom looked so pretty, her green eyes shining and dad smiled that wide smile of his, their hands clasped in each other. There were photographs of her, the first step she took, when she ate by herself, when she played in the tub with her tomato bath toy. There were photographs of the three of them, one of her fifth birthday, mom and dad were wearing party hats, dad had her locked in a tight hug and mom was laughing. One of when they went to the beach together in one weekend.

Dad told her there would be more photographs of the three of them as time passed. And she believed him, and she patiently waited.

Then there was this one photograph, a bit different and looked out of place. The photographs on top of the fireplace showed mom and dad, or mom and dad and her, but this one was different.

There were four people in that photograph. It showed mom and dad in their youth. Mom still has roundish face although that smile of hers was still the same. Dad looked younger and more easy-going. She recognized Uncle Ned, tall and stony face and wild hair, looking like a big cold teddy bear but she knew he has a soft spot for her.

The fourth person, she didn't recognize. Dark haired boy, a strange curl on the side of his head. Hazel golden eyes, 'pretty,' she thought. A scowl instead of a smile, and dad had his arms around his shoulder.

The little girl frowned, she knew all mom and dad's relatives and close friends. But how come she didn't know this one?

She counted with her chubby fingers, Uncle Francis (he was weird and made weird gestures, and she was kind of scared of him), Uncle Gilbert (his hair and his eyes are so pretty, but he was so loud), Mr. Ludwig and his wife Ms. Louise (she liked them. But she also didn't understand that Mr. Ludwig doesn't look like Uncle Gilbert even though they are brothers). Dad has no siblings, and she knew Uncle Ned is mom's brother.

She knew all the close family and friends, but this mister wasn't one of them.

-o-

"Mama?"

"Yes, sweetie?" Her mom smiled to her, green eyes gentle and wavy blonde hair fell to her shoulder as she tucked her safely underneath the blanket, patting her cheeks after she made sure her daughter was warm.

"I looked at the photographs on the fireplace."

"Yes, and?"

"Who is the mister in the photograph of you, papa, and Uncle Ned?"

Her mother blinked, looking at her dumbfoundedly. Her eyes flickered with something the little girl didn't understand. But then mom smiled and nuzzled her nose against hers, sending her into a fit of giggle. "Mom's girl is so smart," She cooed, and the little girl laughed.

"How about a bedtime story?" Mom asked, pulling herself back and smiled to her with a playful glint in her eyes.

She nodded enthusiastically. "Is it about the person in the photograph?"

"Why, yes." Her mother brushed a strand of hair from her forehead. "But your papa would be the one to tell." She winked to her and rose from the bed, slipping past the door into the hallway.

The little girl waited five full minutes until her dad finally showed up at the doorframe, emerald eyes twinkling and the broad smile on his face. "I heard my little Isabel wants a bedtime story."

"Si," She nodded, giggling when her father pinched her cheeks and pulled a chair to her bedside, sitting down.

"Your mama said you want to know about the person in the photograph,"

"Yes. Tell me about him, papa."

"Okay," Her father smiled to her and pulled the chair a bit closer. "Take your best position." She giggled.

-o-

Antonio met him one summer day, when the sun was shining strong and spread heat across the land and flowers were blooming in their most beautiful form.

Bella introduced him to the twin Italian boys, similar brown hair and same hazel golden eyes. She said they were his friends back then when she was still living in Italy, but she and the older Italian were still keeping contacts even after she had moved to Spain when they were in their second year of middle school. The twins had just moved there several days ago and they would be attending the same high school with her and Antonio.

The one at the front introduced himself with a bright smile, innocent and happy and Antonio thought of how cute the boy was. Feliciano, he said, the younger of the twins.

His brother stood a bit behind him, a scowl on his face and seemed reluctant to make a new friend. He introduced himself after his brother nudged him on his arm. Romano, the older brother, and don't think that you can mess with my brother because you're Bella's friend, you bastard.

When school started, Antonio, like everyone else, was attracted to Feliciano as he smiled, laughed, offered help, and made friends. Just being with him made Antonio happy. He didn't notice how the older brother sat in the corner of the class, talking to no one, and ignoring everyone.

It was one day when Feliciano was almost hit by a student's motorcycle and sprained his wrist pretty bad. Romano had come rushing to the nurse's office, wide-eyed with worry. His whole feature visibly relaxed when the nurse told him that there was no need to worry, there was no broken bone. He asked his brother who was the bastard doing that and whether or not he apologized.

The next day, Romano came to school with a black eye and bruises. When asked by a worried Bella, he said that he managed to teach the bastard who recklessly drove motorcycle into school ground and not apologized when he had almost hit someone a lesson.

Bella scolded him, saying that he was a reckless one himself, the guy was famous for being pretty tough and he himself had no fighting talent. But Romano only huffed and said that he would protect his brother. His parents were no longer around for that so he would be the one to do so.

Antonio was surprised by the unexpected courage and resolution. And so he started to pay a little more attention.

He noticed how Romano always stood a bit behind his brother whenever they were together in public, standing in his shadow both literally and metaphorically. People smiled and talked to Feliciano, but not to him. He said he was content with that. He didn't like to be center of the attention and he wasn't in a real need of friends.

He noticed how that boy blushed in the slightest praise and the most subtle affectionate attitude toward him.

He noticed that Romano liked tomatoes and homemade food. That he liked art as much as his brother did.

Antonio said he wanted to be one of the few people that he let to be his friends. Romano said, "Never in a million years, bastard."

But they did become friends. Romano was a solid wall of things that he kept for himself. Antonio was patient.

Romano was afraid of making relationship with other people. Antonio was understanding.

Romano thought himself was inferior, that he didn't deserve a life like Feliciano's. Antonio didn't see him that way.

Romano tried hard to change, but it was difficult. Antonio accepted and waited.

The first time that Romano called him by his name, Antonio smiled and knew that he had become his friend.

-o-

"So they became friends," Isabella concluded innocently. "So the mister in the photograph is papa's friend!"

Her dad laughed and nodded, stroking her hair lovingly. "Yep. Mister Romano was papa's friend."

"I'm happy that he is," The little girl was already too sleepy to notice the past tense in her father's words. "But I'm sleepy now, papa."

"Buenas noches," Her father kissed her forehead gently. "My sweet little girl."

She smiled sleepily into her pillow and one last glance before she fell asleep showed her dad's smile and her room's lamp turned off.

-o-

There will be no more of your smiles, the ones that chased away the loneliness in my heart

Isabella was twelve when she asked her mother the question after they got home from Gilbert's wedding.

"Mama, why don't I see mister Romano? Papa said that he's papa and mama's friend, so why wasn't he there at the party? Or is Uncle Gilbert not friend with him so he didn't invite him?"

Bella stared at her slightly wide-eyed and suddenly looked a bit nervous. She took her hand and sat her on her lap on the couch.

"Well, Uncle Gilbert was friend with him too, dear." Her mother says gently, brushing a strand of hair from her face like she always did. Isabella liked it, because her mother's hand was always so warm and soft and it calmed her down.

"Then why?" She turned her head around to look at her with curious emerald eyes. Bella smiled sadly.

"Because he's already dead."

"He is?" Emerald eyes widened, and Bella nodded, wrapping her arms around her daughter's waist.

"He died before me and your papa graduated from high school."

"That means he died three years after he and papa became friends?"

Bella nodded, absently stroking her daughter's hair and staring into a distance.

-o-

There was a story about me and her, when we were together a long time ago

"Isabel, may I come in?" Antonio knocked his daughter's room lightly, hearing the rustle of bed sheets and light steps, and in a moment the door was swung open.

Isabella stood on the doorway, emerald eyes twinkling and a smile that was so similar to her mother's on her face. "Hi, papa! What's wrong?"

"Your mother told me my little Isabel is in love," Antonio cocked his head to the side and smiled playfully. Isabella laughed in response, stepping aside and allowing her father to enter.

"So, who is he?" Antonio couldn't suppress his chuckle as he watched his daughter bounced across the room and threw herself into her bed, grabbing her stuffed puppy and held it on her chest.

"My classmate, Carlos." Her smile was so wide across her face. "He's so kind and sweet, and his smile is so cute." Antonio reached down and ruffled her hair affectionally, laughing.

"You think I'm out of my mind, aren't you papa?" Isabella pouted and punched his arm lightly.

"No, no, of course not." Antonio shook his head, still laughing. "I just think you look so adorable yourself. My little Isabel sure is growing up, to be able to fall in love."

"It's like the song my British friend Alice let me listened to," Isabella smiled a bit dreamily. "It's my first love, what I'm dreaming of, when I get to bed, when I lay my head upon my pillow," She sung softly, and her chest fluttered with warmth as her father's face lit up and he smiled to her proudly.

"You sing so beautifully."

"You're not going anywhere with flattery alone, papa." The fifteen year old giggled and threw her puppy to her father's chest. They laughed together for a minute, and when they finally ceased down, Isabella crossed her legs and looked at her father, a small smile was still on her lips.

"Have you ever feel first love too, papa?"

"Of course," Antonio nodded, looking at her playfully. "Who haven't?"

"Was it Romano?"

The Spanish man gaped at her. "Why do you think like that?"

Isabella laughed and winked playfully. "I remember the story you told me about him. And mama told me a little bit more about him. For someone to still keeping the photograph of a deceased person on the family section, he must be someone precious to you." She raised a sarcastic eyebrow at him. "Friends, eh?"

Antonio laughed sheepishly and scratched the back of his head, a habit that he couldn't seem to get rid of. "You caught me off-guard."

"So, was it him?" Isabella leaned a bit closer to her father, eyeing him curiously. "But if it was, that means you're a gay, papa."

Antonio burst into a hearty laugh. "I am. But," He ceased his laughter after some moment and said softly. "Will you hate me because I'm a gay?"

"Why should I?" Isabella stared wide-eyed at her father's worried face. "I love you, you should know that, papa."

"I know," Antonio chuckled. "But most people would be ashamed if their parent is a gay."

"It's not like you've run around in the city screaming you're a gay," She frowned and tucked a strand of her blonde hair behind her ear. "I'm not ashamed."

"Gracias!" Antonio laughed and pulled her into a hug, stroking her hair lovingly.

"Papa!" She pushed him away after a minute. "Don't think you can escape from me. Was he your first love?" She pouted.

"He wasn't," Antonio straightened himself, leaning against the wall and looking at his daughter gently. "But he was the first person I've ever truly loved."

Now she was curious. Isabella scooted closer to her father, leaning herself on the wall next to him. "Tell me about it."

"Are you sure?" Antonio raised a brow at her. "I don't think you want to hear a gay's love story."

Isabella groaned and smacked his arm lightly. "Tell me. Alice's parents are gays too so I don't see why not."

"You mean Arthur and Alfred," Antonio chuckled, but a spine cracked on his temple. Isabella knew her father and Alice's 'mother' didn't really get along, so she didn't ask of it anymore. "Okay, but don't regret your decision." He pinched her cheeks.

"I won't," She promised. "But are you okay, papa? I mean, he's dead." Her voice faltered and she looked at her father's suddenly sad eyes with worry.

"I'm okay," He smiled softly. "People move on, and I can't just say no to my little girl's request." He teased. Isabella pouted and smacked his arm again. "Just tell me already."

"Okay, okay."

-o-

There was a story about the beautiful days, when we were crying and when we were laughing

Antonio, like any other teenagers, had felt first love and first broken heart, and many feeling of interests of other person that came after that.

He didn't expect that the one who would make him fall in love again, this time for real, was his best friend.

It was one summer day, similar to the day they first met, but hotter and more humid and more suffocating.

Antonio watched him shrinking behind the long shadow of his brother, head hung low and long bangs obscuring his eyes, listening as the art teacher told the other students of how beautiful and perfect Feliciano's piece for the school festival was.

He found him after school that day at the back of the school ground, standing before the incinerator. It was too late when Antonio realized that the thing he threw inside the burning machine was his painting.

"What are you doing?" Antonio cried, reaching for the canvas but Romano pushed him back with all his might and elbowed the incinerator door closed.

"It returns to its rightful place," He said, voice low and bitter and held the barest hint of shame.

Antonio knew that he wasn't always like this. It was just sometimes it became too hard seeing your brother's achievement and people's words of praise to him, and then looking back to your own piece, the one you painted with your hands and your tears and sweat and blood and your heart, your soul, looking uglier and so much different than it was supposed to be.

Romano had that period sometimes, but he always brushed Antonio's comforting words away, saying that he was just being selfish and Antonio didn't need to worry and fret over him because it would just make him hate himself more.

This time, Antonio didn't say anything. He couldn't.

The look on that face, on that eyes, was unbearable, and Antonio watched as he once again shrunk into his own long shadow, casted by the hot summer sun above.

Romano didn't trust words, so he wouldn't use words.

He leaned down and kissed him.

-o-

Isabella squealed into her pillow, successfully startling her poor father out of his skin. "That was so sweeeeeetttttttt, papa!"

Antonio laughed shakily, staring at her with a slightly shocked face. "Is that so?"

"It is!" She nodded excitedly. Then a thought came to her mind and she ceased down, eyeing her father intently. Antonio looked at her, confused.

"Is there something wrong?"

"You only tell me your love confession, papa." Isabella crossed her arms on her chest and frowned at him. "But you didn't tell me about the whole love thingy."

"Because I don't think you'll understand now," Antonio smiled fondly to her. "I'll tell you when you're older."

"Typical adult's excuse," The teenage girl slumped on her bed and drowning herself in the pillows. "You're such a party pooper, papa." She shushed him away with a pout and a wave of her hand. Antonio laughed and stood up, ruffling her hair before reaching the door.

"Papa, one more thing." She perked up on top of her sea of pillows. Antonio turned on his heels to face her, a smile on his face.

"Do you still love him?"

Antonio blinked. And blinked again.

"I love your mother, if that's what you want to know."

"But you still love him, don't you? I can see it in the way you're talking about him, papa."

"Isabella,"

"How come you can love mama and love him, I mean in the same time?" She tilted her head, confused. "Isn't love supposed to be for the one and only?"

"It's the other thing you'll understand when you're older," Antonio ended the conversation, smiling to her and exiting the room.

She groaned. "Adults."

-o-

She was standing in front of the fireplace, whole body was rigid and her wavy blond hair was a mess, looking at the line of photographs she used to look at as a seven year old. Now seventeen, she didn't need to crane her neck to look at them.

Her emerald eyes were dark as they rested on that photograph, still looked different and out of place. She had come in terms with the thing being put in the family section, but now she wasn't so sure with it anymore. If anything, she felt like she wanted to yank the picture away from the fireplace and threw it to the floor, shattering the frame into million pieces.

"Isabella?"

Her mother's soft voice snapped her out of her trance and she turned her eyes to her. Bella looked at her daughter worriedly, a mess and eyes were bloodshot.

"Mama,"

"Are you okay, sweetie?" Bella took a step toward her, unsure.

"I broke up with Giorgio."

"Oh, my dear sweet Isabella," Her mother stretched her arms out and pulled her into a hug. She could make out the faint smell of fresh flowers and sugar from her.

"He goes out with another girl, behind my back." She buried her face into her mother's hair. "And then all he did is apologize and said that we can't go on like this."

Her mother ran a hair through her hair and whispering soft comforting words, but she kept blabbing.

"And I feel so stupid for falling for a jerk like him, and believe that he's my real love. He's just someone who switch from one person to another like switching clothes. I hate him so much!"

"He doesn't deserve you, dear," Bella whispers softly into her hair, comforting her. "This means you'll find another guy, one who will love you and only you."

"How about you, mama?" She pulled away, looking at her mother with tear-brimmed eyes. "Is papa someone who loves you and only you?"

Bella took a sharp breath, looking at her daughter wide-eyed. "What do you mean, sweetie?"

"Bella? Is there something-" Antonio appeared on the doorway to the room, blinking into the dim room. His eyes widened at the sight of his wife and his tearful daughter. "Isabella? What's wrong?" He approached them, looking at her.

"You lied, didn't you, papa?" Isabella whispered, her tone was sharp and dangerously close to anger. Antonio blinked in confusion, looking at Bella who seemed to be unable to say anything.

"What do you mean, mi querido?"

"You said you love mama," Isabella looked at him, and Antonio cringed at the fury in her eyes. "But that can't possibly be true. You can't love two people in a romantic way equally. And I know that you still love him!" She pointed the photograph with a trembling finger. "That means you don't love mama."

"Isabella, that's not true." Her father looked hurt, genuinely hurt, but she was too angry to care.

"Then explain to me!" She yelled, brushing her mother's hand away. "You're gay, that means you can't love women. But you said you love mama, so you were lying! You can't love two person equally, and you can't love a woman because you're gay! You don't love mama, you married her because he died, right? And you stay with her only because she's your wife, right?"

"That's not true." Antonio said calmly, although his voice was also shaking. "I love your mother, and I love him. You can't understand it now even though I try to explain."

"You always say that!" Isabella cried. "It's just an excuse, isn't it? Admit it, you don't love mama. Or maybe you only love her as a friend. Don't lie anymore!"

"Isabella!" Her mother grabbed her wrist but she yanked it away, glaring at her.

"I can't believe you, mama." She said. "You married papa even though you knew, and you stay with him? You said to me that I deserve someone who loves me and only me, but how about you?"

"You don't understand," Bella said, shaking her head.

"I've had enough of this… fairy tale." Isabella spat, walking away to the hallway. Antonio tried to touch her shoulder but she yanked away.

"I hate you." She glowered to him, her tone dripping with hate. She stormed away, leaving her parents in a heartbreaking silence.

-o-

As soon as she walked past the door, her mother threw her arms around her and hugged her so tight she thought she would break in half.

"Mama!" She gasped and laughed, patting her mother's back. "I can't breathe!"

Bella laughed and released her daughter, studying her with bright and loving eyes adoringly, before smiling and kissing her on the cheeks. "Why didn't you tell me you're coming home? I can make you your favorite!"

"I want to make it a surprise," Isabella smiled to her mother and kissed her cheeks back. "So don't worry about me. I love all of your cooking, mama." She put off her shoes and stepped into her childhood home, gazing around nostalgically.

Bella looked at her daughter fondly, now twenty five, working as an accountant, and would be married to the man of her dream in two weeks. "Do you miss here?"

"Of course I do," The young woman said, glancing over her shoulder to her mother with a grin. "My apartment is nice but this will always be my home." She stopped before the fireplace, tracing each of the photograph with her hand.

There were still photos of her mom and dad smiling together, her fifth birthday party, her parents' wedding, and the other old photos. But now there were also the photos of when she graduated from high-school, her prom night, and her graduation from university. Her emerald eyes fell on one photograph, old and different and looked out of place, cramped in a corner, but was still given a space there in the family section. She traced the surface of the frame lightly, her eyes darting from tall and stony but still has soft spots for her Uncle Ned, her smiling with a cat smile mom, her sunny smiling dad, and the last figure, locked in her dad's arms. Dark hair and weird curl and hazel golden eyes, scowling but now when she looked closer, a hint of smile was on his eyes.

Her mother approached, putting a soft hand on her back. "Isabella,"

She turned around, calm and gentle and understanding. "Where's papa?"

She found him in the tomato garden at the back of her home, covered in sweat. Big, warm, calloused hands were still strong and skillful, tending the patches of tomatoes while humming to them in Spanish.

"Papa," It was soft and almost inaudible, but Antonio straightened and turned around. His face visibly brightened on the sight of his daughter, tall and wavy blonde hair and emerald eyes and a soft smile on her lips.

"Isabel!" He called to her, laughing happily and pulling off his gloves, tossing them aside. She went to him and fell into his open arms, wrapping her arms around his back and feeling him did the same. "Welcome home, querido." He kissed the top of her head and she chuckled, no longer giggled but was still the same.

"I want to talk to you, papa." She said, loosening her grasp a bit and looked at her father's emerald eyes, the one she inherited. "I want to… apologize."

"What for?" Antonio led her to the porch, arm still around her shoulder.

"For those horrible things I said years ago, about you not loving mama and all that," She shifted uneasily. "And for saying I hate you. I didn't mean that." She locked eyes with him. "I'm so sorry."

"I know you didn't," Antonio smiled to her, gentle and understanding. "But I accept your apology."

"I still don't understand the whole thing about loving two person equally. Not understand at all. But it's okay." She let out a small sigh.

"We don't expect you to," Antonio replied, stroking her hair like he always did when she was still a child. Isabella smiled to him and leaned into his touch.

She still didn't understand the relationship between her father, mother, and that boy named Romano even in her wedding day. But still, when her father squeezed her hand before handing her to her husband, she smiled softly and was content with just that.

-o-

It was years, many years later when she sat back in her former room in her house, thirty two and would be married to her second husband in a week.

Antonio came into the room, knocking softly even though he knew that she knew he was there. His daughter lifted her head, wavy blonde hair cut short onto the shoulders and emerald eyes of a woman, she smiled to him.

"Isabel," He called her with that nickname he loved to use so much and sat down beside her on the bed. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm alright, just a bit nervous." She pulled her legs up onto the mattress and crossed them. "And I think I understand." Antonio raised a quizzical brow.

Isabella chuckled and took his hand in hers, tracing the calloused and rough fingers that he used to tend the garden, cook, and everything else that he loved and she had come to love. "I understand what you were trying to say to me back then, when I was still a spoiled teenage girl." She paused, sensing him waiting, and continued. "I love Derek, and I can't forget him. After four years without him, I came to love David. But that doesn't mean I don't love him anymore. I love David, but I also still love him." She sighed. "It's complicated. I understand why you didn't tell me sooner."

Antonio smiled, didn't move to stroke her hair like always, but she knew that he understood. She clasped his hand in hers before returning it to his lap and leaned back to the wall herself. "Hey papa, tell me more. More about you and him. How you fell in love with him, why you did, and how mama came into your relationship without being an intruder."

He was unsure, but she nodded and smiled encouragingly.

-o-

Antonio didn't know since when the feeling started to bloom.

He only knew that after knowing him better, being friends with him, and spending more time with him, Romano was the one who made him smile more. Feliciano still did, but it was different.

He came to see and to understand and to respect the Italian who always stood in the shadow of his brother, was ignored by the world but was always fighting.

Romano said he wasn't brave or strong. He was nervous around too many people, he couldn't fight, he was the fastest after Feliciano in escaping from trouble, his curses and names he called people were just to hide his fear and anxiety.

He said he wasn't the best or the most precious. He loved painting but always failed at it. He tried to do cleaning without messing up but he always, always broke things and made bookcases fall and ended up destroying the room.

He said he wasn't worth anything.

Antonio said he was worth everything.

He didn't care what people thought of Romano because they just couldn't see and it was truly a pity. They couldn't see the real Romano, but yet they judged him and casted him away.

"You won't believe my words," Antonio whispered to him, arms wrapped protectively around him. "But I'll make you believe them."

Because for him, the flaws were the beauty. They showed his true self, one that always tried his hardest, was always the bravest one because he was scared and he denied it but he still stood up to the world.

What people said was a failure was actually the most precious for Antonio.

"I don't understand you, bastard," Romano muttered. "How come flaws were beauty for you?"

He laughed into his hair and said that "It just is."

It was the second year after they started going out together when Romano started to bring Bella into their relationship. He didn't always bring her, but it was often. When they went to the movie, when they had lunch together, when they tended Antonio's tomato garden together, when they cooked.

Antonio didn't understand and he asked about it. Romano only shrugged and said that he had his reasons. The act brought uncertainty and insecurity. Antonio asked Romano if he didn't love him back or if he was getting tired of it, Romano replied that it wasn't the case. He loved Antonio and how would he get tired of the bastard?

But he didn't give clear answer as to why the relationship of the two of them started to become of the three of them. And that only caused more heated arguments and tears and slammed door.

One night, Antonio had had it. Romano had brought Bella over again for cooking at Antonio's house, he even told her Antonio's favorite food.

"What are you trying to do?" He could no longer remain calm. Romano was always someone that was difficult to figure out but this one was too unexpected.

"Nothing!" Romano shook his head, glaring at him. His fists were clenched and they trembled a bit. That was another change Antonio noticed of him. It seemed that these days, Romano had lost more and more of his physical strength. He didn't join PE, he rarely drew or painted anymore, he no longer punched or kicked or headbutted Antonio and retreated to only verbal attack.

Louise said the same thing about Feliciano. That girl was getting worried, but her boyfriend always said that he was just tired, a lot was happening in his house. Antonio got the same answer from Romano.

"Romano, are you hiding something?" Antonio's voice softened. He reached out and took his hands in his, smaller and trembling and suddenly looked so fragile. The Italian shook his head, and the next word coming out from his lips was unexpected.

"I'm sorry." He bit his lower lip, shaking his head so his bangs fell and hid his eyes, a gesture he often did when he was close to breakdown. "I'm sorry, Antonio. I'm so selfish."

"What is this about?" Antonio pulled him into his arms, stroking his hair gently. His heart swelled with fear when he realized how thin that boy was, and how his body trembled lightly against his. "Roma, are you okay?"

The boy nodded. "I'm fine." He looked up at him, hazel golden eyes were sad but dry. "I'm so sorry."

He didn't tell Antonio the reason why, he never did.

Until that certain day.

-o-

"So he was the one who united you and mama," Isabella mused softly, looking at her father. He suddenly looked older, his eyes were sad and a tired smile escaped his lips as he nodded. "Why? It seems that you and him were in a really good relationship and were in the best period that time. Why did he do it?"

Antonio said nothing, leaning back on the wall and looking at the ceiling. Isabella noticed the same look in his eyes with the one in her mother's years ago, when she told her about Romano's death.

"Papa, why did he die?"

A soft knock interrupted them, and Bella appeared on the door, smiling. "David is on the phone, dear."

Isabella nodded and reluctantly got up, noticing the look on her father's face and decided to leave the matter for now.

-o-

Isabella watched with a smile on her face as her twin sons and their older sister tackled Antonio in a hug, laughing and trying to reach every inch of his body.

Her father, now an old man but was still as strong and cheerful as he was back then, laughed and started to play wrestle with his grandchildren. Her mother entered the room and laughed on the sight, noticing her and covering her in a hug.

Her husband entered the house a moment later, souvenirs for his parents-in-law on his hand. Bella smiled and hugged him too, ushering them into the house. Antonio who finally got back to his feet, twin grandsons swinging on each arm and granddaughter clung to his feet, moved to kiss her cheek and shook hands with David, giving him a friendly slap on the arm.

They went into the house, Bella announcing that lunch was ready and three grandchildren ran into the kitchen to have a first bite of grandma's delicious cooking. Antonio and David was chatting on the way. She was glad that her husband and her father seemed to get along really well. Both of her parents loved David. They said he is a good man.

Isabella turned to the living room instead of going directly into the kitchen, and as always took time to stand before the fireplace and reminiscing. Like she did years ago, she traced each of the photographs with her fingers, smiling at how there were new photographs of her first and second wedding, her children, and her with her husband and parents and children. The fireplace was getting too small, but none of the old photos was removed. Some was placed behind the others, but there were all still there.

She moved the photographs carefully around until she found what she was looking for.

The photograph, different and looked out of place and now looked old, the edge of it had turned slightly yellow. She took it in her hand, gently tracing the persons inside one by one.

Big and tall and stony Uncle Ned who lived by himself until now but was always enjoying his life, working and cycling and drinking beer with his Danish friend and smoking and getting high.

Young and smiling mom, wavy shoulder length blonde hair, cheerful green eyes and cat smile.

Young and laughing dad, messy dark brown hair and bright face and glinting emerald eyes.

And young and alive Romano, dark hair and weird curl and hazel golden eyes that held a smile and a scowl on his face.

"Isabella, lunch's ready and everyone's waiting," Her mother stepped into the room, slightly panting and face flushed from laughing. Her green eyes fell to the photograph on her hand and her face softened.

"I'm coming," Isabella nodded and smiled, placing the photograph carefully back on top of the fireplace and wrapping her arms around her mother's shoulder. They left the room together into the kitchen.

-o-

Antonio didn't lift his face when his daughter entered the porch, but he smiled when she sat down next to him. They were silent for a moment, enjoying the scene of lush tomato patches and warm summer sun pouring onto the field.

"Don't overwork yourself, papa." Isabella said softly. "Just because mama isn't around to scold you anymore doesn't mean you can work yourself to the bone for your darling tomato patches." She said the last four words with a fond glint in her eyes. Antonio chuckled.

"I'm not overworking myself, Isabel. I'm merely enjoying my days."

She sighed and turned her face to him, sadness passed on her face. "I'm sorry, papa. I know it's hard." She had to hold back a sob, but she managed to keep her voice steady.

"Don't apologize, mi querido. It's hard for you too." Antonio turned to face her, his eyes wrinkled in a gentle smile.

"But you lost two person you loved."

He let out a long sigh. "I did, but they wouldn't want me to keep being sad." He smiled wistfully.

"Papa, may I ask you something? You don't have to answer it of course."

"What is it, querido?"

Isabella reached across the porch table and placed her hand on top of her father's, long and soft against big and calloused. "Why did he die?"

Antonio was silent for a moment, but he moved to take her hand in his and patted it gently. She was comforted by the feeling of his calloused skin against her, rough but warm.

The sun still shone blindingly above them through the shadow of the porch when he told her.

-o-

First, it was Feliciano that was absent from school. His grandfather said that he got something to take care about outside of Spain, but he was being very vague and didn't want to tell them more than that. Louise and Ludwig didn't believe him, but they couldn't do anything.

Then, a week after Feliciano's absent, it was Romano's turn. And Romulus couldn't hide it anymore. He called Antonio, Bella, Ned, Louise, and Ludwig one day after school and gave them a ride somewhere. Along the way, he told them the truth.

Feliciano and Romano had a genetic disease, the one that had killed their father. It was a degenerative illness and it had started a year ago, the second year in their high school. First it wasn't too severe. Both twins refused to be taken into the hospital as they could still manage. But then their body slowly began to wear down, starting from their digestive system, then to their muscles until it finally reached their respiratory system.

Feliciano collapsed a week ago, and Romano did two days ago.

It crashed down on them, the realization that came with the truth. Antonio suddenly felt his body turned to lead, he couldn't think straight and he couldn't process anything that people around him were saying. All he could think of was how Romano seemed to get tired quicker and get thinner day by day.

He remembered hearing Bella asked through her tears, "Is there any cure? Will they be okay?"

And from the driver seat, Romulus shaky voice replied, "No."

Cold silence fell between the five of them, as they all came into a realization. There was nothing they could do.

When they arrived at the hospital, Romulus led them to a room, saying that both of them were placed in the same room.

Feliciano was on one bed, IV stuck onto his arm and oxygen mask strapped on his face, life-supporting machines beeping around him. He was slumping on the pillow, a book on his lap. But his face visibly brightened when they entered.

"Ve~, Louise, Ludwig," He chirped, and both Germans cringed at how weak he sounded. They walked over to his bed, worry and fear were barely hidden on their face.

Romano was on the other bed across him on the room, in the same state but he wore an oxygen line across his face instead of a mask. He too had a book on his lap, and his eyes widened slightly when he saw them. He quickly masked it with a light frown. Bella sat down on his bedside, trembling. Antonio could only look at him, not even being able to smile. Ned was the most calm among them. He asked Romano how his condition was and how he was feeling.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Antonio croaked, looking at him with such a devastated look that Romano cringed.

"Because I want to spend my remaining days happily, you bastard." He huffed, his voice was a bit raspy. "If I told you, you'd be like this, all sad and we couldn't spend our days like we used to."

Antonio couldn't say anything anymore. He took Romano's hand in his, thin and fragile and cold, clasping it gently and trying to give some warmth.

Romano's face softened and he smiled a bit. "I'm fine, you moron." He turned to Bella and said to her, "Don't look at me like I'm dead already, you friggin' weird girl."

"You are an idiot!" Bella started to cry, clutching the folds of his bed sheets tightly. Ned put a hand on her shoulder and after a while she ceased down.

When the visiting time was over, Bella squeezed Romano's hand gently and promised him to come visit again as often as she could, Ned nodded assuringly behind her. They left first, as well as Ludwig, to give the couples some privacy.

Antonio could hear Louise's soft voice from Feliciano's bed, but he and Romano stayed silent.

"Don't look like that, bastard," Romano said softly. "Like I said, I'm not dead yet."

Antonio managed a shaky chuckle. "I know you're not. I'm just…" And his voice trailed off. Romano nodded lightly.

Closing his book and putting it on his bedside table, he touched Antonio's palm. "You'll fucking come again, won't you?"

Antonio didn't believe that Romano was asking that out of all the questions. "Of course!"

Smirking a bit, Romano replied, "Then no need to be all fucking sad. Come again tomorrow or I'll ask grandpa to bring me his cellphone and I'll haunt you."

Antonio laughed quietly but finally nodded. He bent down and kissed his forehead gently, holding his hand like it was a fragile glass. He lingered longer, putting everything he wasn't able to say through the simple kiss before he pulled away.

"Rest well," He said softly, smiling when Romano stubbornly scowled at him before sighing and closing his eyes. Antonio pulled his sheet higher and made sure he was comfortable before exiting the room, casting a glance at Louise doing the same to a sleepy Feliciano.

After that, Antonio's days were filled with school and hospital visits. He visited Romano everyday, bringing him more books and talking about various things with him, everything that would keep the weakening boy happy. Romano didn't complain about his state, about how he had to eat mushy food or how he couldn't move around without help from the nurses or his grandpa.

But he did say that he missed painting and drawing even though he wasn't as good at it as his brother, he missed cooking and tending the tomato garden with Antonio (with furious blush on his face), he missed the humid summer air and the autumn wind, he missed everything in his old life.

And he said about how his grandfather had to work twice harder now to pay their hospital fees. Romulus refused to give up on them, and nothing could make him change his mind. Antonio was thankful for that.

He knew there was no cure, but he was persistent. No, he knew he was being selfish. The medication and life-supporting machines could only prolong their lifespan by a bit, supporting their lungs so it wouldn't die down in its degenerating state. He saw how it got harder for them to even shift on their bed and to breath.

But he wanted to be with Romano. He was selfish, but he would do everything it takes to be with him even for only a little longer.

-o-

"You're not selfish, papa." Isabella said, watching as his father's emerald eyes flickered with sadness. "You wanted to be with him. I'm sure he too wanted the same."

Antonio only smiled and stroke his daughter's hair. Isabella looked at the sky getting darker above and sighed. She rose from her seat and gave her father a hug.

"I have to go home now, but I'll be back," She promised as she kissed his cheeks. "So you have to wait for me, papa. You still haven't finished your story yet."

-o-

She came back as she promised, spending a day with her lonely father. They were making churros in the kitchen, flour streaked their face and her father was smiling, bright and happy like he used to and she was happy for that.

"You've told me sad stories," Isabella said, wiping the flour from her face as she watched her father fried the churros. "Tell me about your happy days with him, papa."

Antonio laughed. "My little girl will always be my little girl, eh?" He teased. "You sound exactly like you did back then when you asked for bedtime stories."

"Do I?" Isabella grinned. "Then do tell your little girl, papa."

-o-

I was reminded of the time when we laughed together, sharing a story about us, the whole being of us

It was one short year before Romano started to bring Bella into their relationship, but it was one short year that Antonio cherished the most.

They learned more about each other slowly, though he was more on the learning side than Romano was.

They tended his tomato garden together, and he looked at how the Italian was so fond of them, complaining when he did work but his face softened everytime he stroke every little leave, every under-ripe tomato, every small patch that had just bloomed.

They cooked together, and the first dish they made was churros, golden brown and sweet and covered in cinnamon powder.

He learned how to make Romano smile, through the tiniest act of genuine affection, honest praise, and genuine smile. He knew how to make him blush, through the stolen kisses on his neck and sweet words he knew he truly meant.

Romano didn't understand that Antonio could smile and laugh and be happy with his curses, his scowl, names he called people, and his glare. He didn't understand how Antonio could put up with his moody attitude and violent acts and self-loathing period.

"I love you," Antonio whispered to him one night when they sat on the porch of his house together. "I might not know all about you, but I'm more than willing to learn. And by learning I'll come to understand. But even when I don't, I'll always accept you."

"I don't understand," Romano croaked back, his voice trembled. "How could you love someone who's a coward, loud-mouthed, harsh, violent, clumsy, and good-for-nothing?"

"You only see your flaws," Antonio nuzzled his face into his hair. "You don't see the beauty in them."

"I don't understand you," Romano huffed. "I think I don't understand any of your friggin' words."

Antonio laughed and kissed the top of his head. "All of that is summed in just three words." He chuckled when he saw the raised eyebrow of the Italian. "I love you. That's why."

"Sappy bastard," He muttered, flushing bright red but allowing himself to be pulled into his embrace.

-o-

"It's hard to explain us," Antonio put the fried churros into a plate. "People didn't understand how we could be a couple, how, in their term, I could put up with him. And I didn't know the right words to explain either. I still don't."

"It's okay, papa." Isabella took the plate and placed it onto the table. "I think I understand a bit of it. But even though I or people don't understand, I think as long as you do, that's what matters." She smiled to him, and Antonio smiled back, his eyes glinting softly.

-o-

Isabella was sitting on the side of his father's hospital bed, watching as the man she loved and looked up to waved and smiled to his grandchildren and son-in-law before they exited the room.

He turned to her and smiled, his whole face wrinkled softly. "Don't look like that, querido. I've lived good and happy life."

"I know," She chuckled quietly. "You're always smiling, papa. That's why I know you have."

"I had a loving wife, stunningly beautiful and kind daughter who gave me a nice son-in-law and cute grandchildren," He smiled teasingly to her and she smiled with him. "I've eaten all the tomatoes I want to eat in my whole life, I've traveled to France and Germany and Italy, I had many good and true friends. All of those are more than I could've asked for."

Isabella took his hand in hers and squeezed it gently, blinking back tears. "I love you, papa."

"I know, mi querido, my little girl, Isabel." Her father smiled gently to her. "There's something you've been wanting to ask me, isn't there?"

Isabella nodded. "But I'm not sure about it."

"I'll answer anything, querido," Antonio smiled assuredly to her. "Anything. I have no regrets."

"I won't be mad, I won't be angry, I won't regret anything, so please answer me honestly, papa," She looked at him and tried to smile, but the first drop of tears slid down her cheeks at the sight of his wrinkled smile.

"The only person you've ever truly loved, is him, right?"

He sighed lightly and nodded. "You've understood then, Isabel." She nodded, and he continued. "I loved your mother, but I could never love her the way I loved him."

"I know," Isabella smiled through her tears. "I understand."

Antonio smiled to her, clasping her hands with his other hand and said, "Then maybe I should finish the story for you."

Isabella looked confused for a moment, before a realization dawned onto her face. "You haven't told me how he died."

Antonio nodded and smiled softly, wiping her tears with his hand before clasping her hand again.

-o-

Feliciano died five months later. It was the last attack, doctors and nurses rushing around his bed and Romulus looked ready to burst out into a full-scale cry.

Louise was calm, her hands clasped his, her expression was neutral. Antonio couldn't comprehend how she could be like that. Romano was watching too, seated on a wheelchair and was as thin and broken like his brother, he looked… understanding, calm even.

With difficulty, Feliciano smiled to his grandfather and the girl he loved, mouthing 'I love you', before turning to Romano. It was only exchange of looks, but Romano slowly nodded and smiled softly.

"Wait for me, fratello," He whispered, low and raspy but Antonio heard it and a heavy lump fell into his chest.

Feliciano smiled to him also and mouthed "I will," before his eyes fell closed and the beeping in the heart-monitor machine stopped.

Romano couldn't attend his brother's funeral, and he spent another one month alone in his hospital room until one day he told Antonio one thing that shattered him into his core.

"I'm going to end this." He looked up at Antonio's emerald eyes tiredly and saw how broken the man was. "I'm sorry, Antonio."

Romulus called him two days later in the evening. Antonio rushed to the hospital to find him sitting on the bench in the hall, his face buried in his palms. When he looked up to meet Antonio's gaze, his eyes were full with tears.

"He managed to convince me," He chuckled shakily. "He said, 'I don't want you to waste your damn money on me any longer, pops. So listen to me and I won't accept a no.'" He broke down completely on that. "I'm a murderer."

"You're not," Antonio said. He expected it to come out more comfortingly, but it was tense and forced. Romulus understood though. He cocked his head to the room.

"He only has until dawn. He forbade me to enter the room, but I know he wants to see you."

Antonio nodded and entered the room, feeling like it was all not real, like his legs were made of lead.

The room was silent, there was no more the sound of the machines. Romano was on the bed, his head was turned to the window. His breath came out short without the oxygen mask. So slowly, he turned around when he heard the creak of the door. Even in his state, he managed a small scowl on his face. Antonio forced himself to smile and sat down beside his bed.

"You don't have to come, you know." He whispered.

"I want to. Why don't you let your grandpa inside?"

"He's seen Feliciano go. I don't want him to see me too." He took a deep, short breath. "That's why I said you don't have to come."

Antonio took his hand, cold and felt sucked out of life slowly. He clasped it as gently as he could, fearing it might broke under his touch. "Even if you don't want me to, I'll still come."

He didn't have the energy to huff, so Romano settled with only eyeing him with a you're-an-idiot look. "Now that you're here, sleep with me tonight."

Antonio chuckled at his flushed face, and climbed onto the bed, laying down and carefully wrapped his arms around his figure.

Romano's short breath and steady heartbeat calmed him down as he ran a hand through his dark hair.

"There's something I want to ask of you," Romano muttered after a while, wheezing a little.

"Anything," Antonio promised.

"After… After all this, you have to go on with your life," He wheezed again lightly. "I'm not asking you to do instantly, but you have to live the rest of your life happily."

Antonio felt his throat tightened, but he managed a nod. Romano took a breath before continuing. "And, please give Bella a chance.

I'm not asking you to love her, but… just give her a chance."

He breathed into Antonio's chest. "She's a nice girl. I've asked her the same."

"Then, a year ago, when you started bringing her…"

"You figured it out finally," Romano frowned at him. "I want you two to at least get along better first."

"Romano…" Antonio swallowed hard. "I…"

"Sorry, I didn't tell you because…" He wheezed again. "I want to spend the remaining year with you. But I still tried to make you and Bella get along.

I'm so selfish. I'm sorry, Antonio." His voice lowered down, and Antonio had a flash of panic before he realized with a great relief that Romano was still breathing.

"Don't be sorry…" He whispered into his ear. "I'm a selfish one too."

"You fucking are," Romano chuckled into his chest. "I love you, Antonio."

"I love you too, Roma."

Antonio stayed wide awake that night. And he was still holding him even when his breath had long stopped.

-o-

"He wanted me and your mother to be happy," Antonio smiled to the face of his stunned daughter. "By introducing us to each other, the best man and the best woman he knew."

Isabella sniffed, looking at him with eyes glassy with tears, but she was smiling softly. "You must miss him so much."

"I do. But I'll meet him again soon, and your mother too." He smiled to her. "I have until dawn. You don't have to be here, Isabel."

She shook her head and smiled. "No, let me, papa. I want to."

"Gracias, my dear sweet Isabel."

-o-

Three years after her father's death, Isabella started packing the memorable things in her childhood home before its new owner moved in.

She placed the photographs in a cardboard box, placing each onto the other carefully, smiling to every piece of memories contained in them. Her hand lingered longer on the photograph, still different and looked out of place but now had a place in her heart.

She smiled to each of the person inside. Uncle Ned, her mother, her father, and then someone who had given her father the best of his life he could get, as reluctant as she was, she admitted it.

After caressing it one last time, she put it in the box and closed the lid, carrying it outside to her family's car in which her children and her husband were waiting.

Thank you, for a lifetime story of a lifetime love.

There was a story about me and her, when we were together so long ago. There was a story about beautiful days, when we were crying and when we were laughing.

2nd A/N:

The real title of the song is "Semua Tentang Kita" in Indonesian. In the music video, it shows how a man died in an accident but he doesn't know about his death and still lingers in the world looking for his lover. The girl mourned for him, but then she moves on, and in the last scene, the man finally realizes about it.

The music video can be seen here www dot youtube dot com /watch ? v = F9of-KR3UY4 (remove the spaces and change dot with ".") with English subtitles for non-Indonesian speakers.

Constructive criticisms are always welcomed, but please no flame.

Thank you for reading! :D