Those little things you took for granted.

[rompicoglioni.livejournal.com]

Characters: rompicoglioni and towerofanimus!
Setting: Starting on the Fourth Floor.
Format: Prose, but feel free to tag with either!
Summary: Romano's being whiny about how much stair climbing he's been doing lately. Frankly, he's a little sore. Also some introspective woobieness.
Warnings: Obligatory warnings for Romano's mouth?

Why the hell weren't there elevators in a building this big? Why did they have to build stairs instead? Of course, his silent questions went unanswered, leaving him with nothing to do but to collapse on one of the sofas on the fourth floor, somewhere away from the dreary windows.

He missed Italy so much, the burning desire to feel actual soil beneath his feet growing so intense he thought he might cry. God (he presumed) had been kind enough to leave him with tomatoes and wine from home, but he was going to run out of those eventually if he stayed here long enough. How long would that be? Would he ever see his brother again? Were Spain and Belgium okay? He hadn't seen them, if they'd been saved alongside him and the other nations here.

He'd like to introduce his Spain to the female Spain he met in the cafeteria on the first day... they'd probably get along. A weary smile lit up his face and he sprawled out on the sofa, wincing as he felt his poor sore muscles protest that very movement.

Comments

[koyo]

Unknown to Romano, Spain has also been exploring and he's always been a few steps ahead of him. Of course, once he got to the fourth floor, there were no more steps to go so Spain spent time looking outside the windows, hoping the clouds would break.

Just before Romano came in, Spain decided to lay down on a couch that was facing the window. Wow, talk about timing, huh? He doesn't even realize that someone's walked into the room. As he lies down, he thinks about a lot of things.

He thinks about taking a nap. He contemplates heading downstairs to see if he can find anything else. He wonders if his friends are okay. He was giving himself a headache with all of this thinking. Taking a break from his thoughts, Spain begins to hum to himself.

[rompicoglioni.livejournal.com]

Still surprisingly conscious, Romano heard that annoying humming, and it was so familiar, he sprung up from the couch and looked for the source.

When he saw Spain there, on the verge of napping, the most familiar sight in all the world, it took all of his self-control not to fling himself at the idiot and thank God he wasn't dead. Wait, why the hell would he do that? That's stupid. O-Of course Spain wouldn't be dead.

He didn't think Spain deserved to be napping when he should be happy that Romano is alive and damn it. He flicked Spain on the forehead, hoping that'd be enough to get his attention.

"Hey, bastardo..."