[APH] Resonance
Title: Resonance
Category: Axis Powers Hetalia / Hetalia World Series
Characters/Pairings: North Italy, South Italy, Spain, Ancient Rome
Genre/Rating/Warnings: hurt/comfort, family/G/switching names?
Summary/Excerpt: "The sad fact was it was Veneziano who was often taken for Italy and Romano had to vehemently argue he was much of Italy as his brother, no matter how likable and cute the younger half was."
A/N: A super duper belated Happy Birthday and Happy Holidays chromatic_coma! \O\\O//O/ Here be a fic for joo o 3o Idek what to write at first but I figured I'd try my hand at the Italies. Sorry if it kinda turned out weird LOL Hope you enjoy! *hugs*
Resonance
"To be honest, when I first met you two, I was scared shitless," Ancient Rome told Veneziano. "I mean, I knew I wasn't going to last any longer and I had heard of how kid nations were replacing the empires, but seeing you and your brother made me think 'Oh god, I don't want to die yet.' But then you mellow out as you get old. Now if there's anything I've got to be grateful for, it's the both of you."
Veneziano shifted in his chair. The spot where he was in the public library was as silent as a confessional. A hefty volume about the Roman Antiqua lay open before him. The shadow of his late grandfather sat across him, looking grave yet tender. Veneziano was quiet. Words were battling inside him, those of pasta and how much he missed him, how he learned to tie his own shoelaces and how everyone was now friends. But there as a part of him that didn't want to talk at all, for fear his grandfather might disappear at such questioning and for the need to hear his side of the story, if only to ease the bitterness lingering in his heart. Which of the two was the sinner and which was the priest, it was hard to tell.
"Why don't you visit Romano?" Veneziano asked quietly, without accusation or jealousy.
Rome smiled. "He doesn't need visiting. He has a lot of people who love him even if he refuses to acknowledge it."
Veneziano hummed in agreement. Indeed, ever since they were young, his brother had been sought after. Spain owned him. France wanted him and so did Turkey. Compared to himself, Romano wasn't complacent or gullible or nice to everyone. He was wild, feisty, rude yet surprisingly shy and only wanted to please. It made any nation want to tame him, get under his skin and see how many expressions they can evoke. If any single one of them succeeded in making him smile, it was a small reward unlike any other.
In a fit of vanity, Veneziano asked his grandfather, "Which one of us do you like, nonno?"
The answer wasn't going to change anything. He was just purely curious and Rome knew that. "I can't say," he said with an apologetic scratch of the head. "You are strong and Romano is beautiful. Both of you are very kind."
Satisfied, Veneziano stood and kissed his grandfather's forehead in thanks. The shadow disappeared as he closed the book and returned it to its shelf. He made his way out of the library and into the golden afternoon. A cheerful hum hung on his lips as he walked back home.
- - - -
"Heeeh~? To what do owe this pleasant surprise?" Spain asked as he walked into his living room and saw Romano sitting on his couch with the most adorable of pouts gracing his cheeks.
"Nothing," Romano replied. "Veneziano's not at home."
"Oh?" Spain remarked as he changed into some house clothes draped behind a chair. "Where is he?"
Romano gave him a long look before the Spaniard sat down, realizing the answer was the very reason why Romano came to him rather than stayed at his own home.
"Library."
Ah.
Spain sighed and stood up. This called for a strong cup of coffee and he headed to the kitchen with heavy air and no words. Romano followed without being told what to do or why. They both knew what was needed and when to say things that needed calculating. It was how they worked together.
After clinks and hums of coffee brewing machinery, Spain and Romano sat down on the dining table with hot drinks in hand.
"Then?" the former picked up where they left off. "Did you tell him it was mission impossible?"
Romano stared at his coffee. "I told him that even if there was a possibility to talk to Rome through the artifacts he left behind, how exactly he was going to do so was a problem. He told me I didn't have to worry because he's got it all figured out. I didn't want to push it. He sounded so happy."
Spain smiled and after a moment said, "Jealous?"
Romano pulled a face. "And why would I be?"
The Spaniard laughed at the clear defensiveness in his tone. "I mean, don't you want to talk to Rome too? Feliciano isn't the only grandson he has."
"That old man has no reason to see me. He hardly did when he was alive." Romano replied dispassionately and drank his coffee.
It was true and clear as day no matter how much he hid things out of habit, Romano had been jealous of Veneziano ever since they were young. Their relationship wasn't quite what brothers had. Despite what the elder nations said, they felt they were too different to be representing one country. The sad fact was it was Veneziano who was often taken for Italy and Romano had to vehemently argue he was much of Italy as his brother, no matter how likable and cute the younger half was. Their relationship was one of resonance-two complements that vibrated at unequal frequencies if one or the other was struck with some sort of force. They felt each other, united by the very core of being one country, whether they wanted to or not. True enough, Romano didn't want to admit, he cherished the connection.
"He's a lonely boy," Spain said, easing in his seat.
Romano frowned, not knowing how anyone surrounded with so much company can be called lonely, but listened all the same.
"He's got a burden he doesn't want to talk about but constantly remembers. A matter that's very personal and very big," Spain gestured to his heart. "What he can't grasp yet is that the person he loved and searched for years is the very same right beside him, different in form but the unchanged in essence."
Romano wanted to say he didn't understand, that he couldn't care less about his brother's relationship with Germany and their mysterious past. He wanted to ask why Veneziano had so much and why he himself had very little. But then he remembered the smiles his brother gave for everyone and how only a few were genuinely returned. With this realization, he sat straighter in his seat and looked up at Spain's face. There was something of a shit-eating grin there, but it was gentle.
"He constantly has a crowd around him, and even if people say he wears his heart on his sleeve, he can't be quite as honest as you. Words can't pin it, but there's something between you that only the both of you share. You two are very much loved. You just don't see it. Try and understand him, Roma."
Romano felt a pang in his chest, or something that morphed into what filled his heart to bursting, pushing past his eyes as tears. "You don't need to tell me that, bastard."
- - - -
It was late in the evening when Romano returned to the home he and his brother shared. The light in the kitchen was on but there were no aromas of dinner. Strains of song flowed through the open back door and as he followed them, he realized he and Veneziano had never really talked. For more than half their lives, they were almost always apart. There really wasn't any reason for Romano to be always irritated with his brother's antics. They only had each other to show all of their sides to.
"Fratello, you're back!" Veneziano said, hopping off the wall he had been sitting on and singing.
Romano leaned on the doorway, his shadow silhouetted on the ground in kitchen light. "How did your visit go?"
"I met nonno," Veneziano replied, with a smile that held deep melancholy. "He said he was proud of us."
Romano let out a huff of bemusement and crossed their flowered yard to where his brother was. "Then I'm glad you went." He said tenderly and gave him a tight hug.
END
Category: Axis Powers Hetalia / Hetalia World Series
Characters/Pairings: North Italy, South Italy, Spain, Ancient Rome
Genre/Rating/Warnings: hurt/comfort, family/G/switching names?
Summary/Excerpt: "The sad fact was it was Veneziano who was often taken for Italy and Romano had to vehemently argue he was much of Italy as his brother, no matter how likable and cute the younger half was."
A/N: A super duper belated Happy Birthday and Happy Holidays chromatic_coma! \O\\O//O/ Here be a fic for joo o 3o Idek what to write at first but I figured I'd try my hand at the Italies. Sorry if it kinda turned out weird LOL Hope you enjoy! *hugs*
Resonance
"To be honest, when I first met you two, I was scared shitless," Ancient Rome told Veneziano. "I mean, I knew I wasn't going to last any longer and I had heard of how kid nations were replacing the empires, but seeing you and your brother made me think 'Oh god, I don't want to die yet.' But then you mellow out as you get old. Now if there's anything I've got to be grateful for, it's the both of you."
Veneziano shifted in his chair. The spot where he was in the public library was as silent as a confessional. A hefty volume about the Roman Antiqua lay open before him. The shadow of his late grandfather sat across him, looking grave yet tender. Veneziano was quiet. Words were battling inside him, those of pasta and how much he missed him, how he learned to tie his own shoelaces and how everyone was now friends. But there as a part of him that didn't want to talk at all, for fear his grandfather might disappear at such questioning and for the need to hear his side of the story, if only to ease the bitterness lingering in his heart. Which of the two was the sinner and which was the priest, it was hard to tell.
"Why don't you visit Romano?" Veneziano asked quietly, without accusation or jealousy.
Rome smiled. "He doesn't need visiting. He has a lot of people who love him even if he refuses to acknowledge it."
Veneziano hummed in agreement. Indeed, ever since they were young, his brother had been sought after. Spain owned him. France wanted him and so did Turkey. Compared to himself, Romano wasn't complacent or gullible or nice to everyone. He was wild, feisty, rude yet surprisingly shy and only wanted to please. It made any nation want to tame him, get under his skin and see how many expressions they can evoke. If any single one of them succeeded in making him smile, it was a small reward unlike any other.
In a fit of vanity, Veneziano asked his grandfather, "Which one of us do you like, nonno?"
The answer wasn't going to change anything. He was just purely curious and Rome knew that. "I can't say," he said with an apologetic scratch of the head. "You are strong and Romano is beautiful. Both of you are very kind."
Satisfied, Veneziano stood and kissed his grandfather's forehead in thanks. The shadow disappeared as he closed the book and returned it to its shelf. He made his way out of the library and into the golden afternoon. A cheerful hum hung on his lips as he walked back home.
- - - -
"Heeeh~? To what do owe this pleasant surprise?" Spain asked as he walked into his living room and saw Romano sitting on his couch with the most adorable of pouts gracing his cheeks.
"Nothing," Romano replied. "Veneziano's not at home."
"Oh?" Spain remarked as he changed into some house clothes draped behind a chair. "Where is he?"
Romano gave him a long look before the Spaniard sat down, realizing the answer was the very reason why Romano came to him rather than stayed at his own home.
"Library."
Ah.
Spain sighed and stood up. This called for a strong cup of coffee and he headed to the kitchen with heavy air and no words. Romano followed without being told what to do or why. They both knew what was needed and when to say things that needed calculating. It was how they worked together.
After clinks and hums of coffee brewing machinery, Spain and Romano sat down on the dining table with hot drinks in hand.
"Then?" the former picked up where they left off. "Did you tell him it was mission impossible?"
Romano stared at his coffee. "I told him that even if there was a possibility to talk to Rome through the artifacts he left behind, how exactly he was going to do so was a problem. He told me I didn't have to worry because he's got it all figured out. I didn't want to push it. He sounded so happy."
Spain smiled and after a moment said, "Jealous?"
Romano pulled a face. "And why would I be?"
The Spaniard laughed at the clear defensiveness in his tone. "I mean, don't you want to talk to Rome too? Feliciano isn't the only grandson he has."
"That old man has no reason to see me. He hardly did when he was alive." Romano replied dispassionately and drank his coffee.
It was true and clear as day no matter how much he hid things out of habit, Romano had been jealous of Veneziano ever since they were young. Their relationship wasn't quite what brothers had. Despite what the elder nations said, they felt they were too different to be representing one country. The sad fact was it was Veneziano who was often taken for Italy and Romano had to vehemently argue he was much of Italy as his brother, no matter how likable and cute the younger half was. Their relationship was one of resonance-two complements that vibrated at unequal frequencies if one or the other was struck with some sort of force. They felt each other, united by the very core of being one country, whether they wanted to or not. True enough, Romano didn't want to admit, he cherished the connection.
"He's a lonely boy," Spain said, easing in his seat.
Romano frowned, not knowing how anyone surrounded with so much company can be called lonely, but listened all the same.
"He's got a burden he doesn't want to talk about but constantly remembers. A matter that's very personal and very big," Spain gestured to his heart. "What he can't grasp yet is that the person he loved and searched for years is the very same right beside him, different in form but the unchanged in essence."
Romano wanted to say he didn't understand, that he couldn't care less about his brother's relationship with Germany and their mysterious past. He wanted to ask why Veneziano had so much and why he himself had very little. But then he remembered the smiles his brother gave for everyone and how only a few were genuinely returned. With this realization, he sat straighter in his seat and looked up at Spain's face. There was something of a shit-eating grin there, but it was gentle.
"He constantly has a crowd around him, and even if people say he wears his heart on his sleeve, he can't be quite as honest as you. Words can't pin it, but there's something between you that only the both of you share. You two are very much loved. You just don't see it. Try and understand him, Roma."
Romano felt a pang in his chest, or something that morphed into what filled his heart to bursting, pushing past his eyes as tears. "You don't need to tell me that, bastard."
- - - -
It was late in the evening when Romano returned to the home he and his brother shared. The light in the kitchen was on but there were no aromas of dinner. Strains of song flowed through the open back door and as he followed them, he realized he and Veneziano had never really talked. For more than half their lives, they were almost always apart. There really wasn't any reason for Romano to be always irritated with his brother's antics. They only had each other to show all of their sides to.
"Fratello, you're back!" Veneziano said, hopping off the wall he had been sitting on and singing.
Romano leaned on the doorway, his shadow silhouetted on the ground in kitchen light. "How did your visit go?"
"I met nonno," Veneziano replied, with a smile that held deep melancholy. "He said he was proud of us."
Romano let out a huff of bemusement and crossed their flowered yard to where his brother was. "Then I'm glad you went." He said tenderly and gave him a tight hug.
END