Work Text:
Romano always knew he was going to disappear one day. He knew it in the same way he knew that the sun would rise tomorrow, or that the flowers would die after fall came. It was how all life worked, and it was the only way his brother would ever grow stronger. Romano knew that he couldn't stay forever, and he hated himself for it.
He hated himself for the first time he and Italy had been separated, and he had felt this throbbing loneliness for the first time. Romano hated his Grandpa Rome. He hated him for disappearing when Romano still needed him. He hated Grandpa Rome for leaving Italy alone. He hated Rome for never loving Romano like he loved Italy, and he hated that he wanted to be loved, like Italy.
He hated himself for not being there for Italy when the Holy Roman Empire fell, and that he couldn't stop it. He hated the Holy Roman Empire for leaving his brother alone. He hated him for breaking his brother's heart. He hated him because Italy's eyes still filled with tears at the thought of him. He hated him for his brother's tainted memories.
He hated Germany for the same reasons.
The country's blond hair and blue eyes reminded him too much of the Holy Roman Empire, and left a sick feeling in his stomach. He hated the likeness to the empire that had killed his Grandpa. He hated the similarities between him and the one who had been the first to break his brother's heart. He hated the fact that it could happen again.
"Can you promise me?" He had once yelled at Germany in anger. "Can you promise me that you won't disappear, you bastard? Can you promise that you won't disappear like-" He had been silenced by Italy's calloused hand placed over his mouth, and his brothers soft, and sorrowful voice. "Romano, enough." Italy hadn't said anything else. He hadn't needed to. Romano understood.
And for that reason he also hated Italy. Foolish Italy, who had already been hurt once before, and was destined to be hurt again. Naive Italy, who couldn't learn his lesson, who opened his heart up again even though he might lose Germany at too. He hated Italy who cried for the loss of two empires he loved, for Grandpa Rome and Holy Roman Empire. Italy who still cried for them, and Italy who would cry for Romano one day.
He hated Italy for being such a crybaby, even though he had everything. Even though it had been Italy who was Grandpa Rome's favorite. Even though Italy was always protected; by Germany, by Japan, and even by Romano. Romano hated that he had to protect his brother, even though he was scared too. Romano hated that his brother couldn't protect himself. Romano hated his brother for being so weak, and he hated the idea of leaving him alone, to be easily defeated and crushed.
Romano hated Austria, for forcing Italy to work for him, and even more so, for letting Italy go. Romano hated Japan, for being too indecisive, for leaving Italy as he is, for letting Italy depend on him. Romano hated France, for abandoning Italy.
He hated Prussia, for always acting like tomorrow didn't matter, for laughing and drinking as though he couldn't disappear at any time. He hated Prussia for the face he made when he drank alone at the bar in the farthest corner, for the face he made when all the other countries went to a meeting and he thought no one could see, for the face Prussia made when he saw Germany with Italy. Romano hated Prussia's smile most of all. He hated Sealand, a being formed by the wish of an abandoned people, a being no one accepted. He hated Sealand for trying so desperately not to disappear. He hated Sweden, for buying Sealand, and giving that innocent "country" hope. Romano hated Sealand for the simple fact that he would one day disappear.
And Romano hated Spain. He hated Spain for taking him away from Italy. He hated Spain's devotion to him, he hated the way Spain always smiled and forgave him, no matter what he did. He hated the fact one day Spain might not forgive him. He hated that one day the smile would disappear from Spain's face. He hated Spain for pretending he didn't know, for pretending everything would last forever.
But most of all, Romano hated himself. Romano hated that he had to go. Romano hated that one day he would hurt the two people who meant the most to him. He hated that he was scared to go, he hated that he was afraid to leave Spain, he hated that he was going to disappear, and he hated that he couldn't stop it. He knew he had to disappear one day so Italy could grow stronger, and wiser, and greater. He had know this from the first time he learned how countries came to exist, and how the ceased to exist. Romano had always known he would disappear, and he was ready.
But...
"Why?" Romano gasped, reaching for the curl, so like his own. His chest shook with sobbed, and he cried like a dam had burst, like all the fears and pain he hid his whole life had broken free at once. He had always known he was going to disappear, so why-"Why was it you Italy?" He sobbed. "Why wasn't it me?"
Romano hated a lot of things. He hated the sound of Germany's broken sobs and Hungary's sniffles. He hated the hopeless look on Japan's face, he hated how the usually strong Hungary clung to Prussia desperately. He hated how empty Austria's eyes were, and the fact he hadn't said a single word since he found out. He hated how even America, the loudest country, could find nothing to say. He hated the way China had accepted the situation, he hated the way Spain's hand rested on his shoulder. He hated the distance between them.
Romano hated his boss for the words he had said, and he hated the words for being true. He hated the pope, for how easily he changed what he called Romano. Romano hated with all of his heart the moment his boss, with tears streaming down his face, said in a choked voice; "Romano, You're Italy now."
He hated the way his brother was crumbling away, the same way his Grandpa had when he disappeared, like the ruins of an old empire. He hated the fact he was still there, standing where his brother should be. He hated himself for crying, loudly and openly. Romano hated the empty space beside him, the feeling as though something huge was missing from his heart.
Most of all, though, Romano hated that he hadn't been able to save him.