Of Hide-and-Seeks [Hetalia / Spamano Story]

4

The first thing he noticed was that he was alone. Even before he had opened his eyes and stripped off the last layers of thick sleep, Romano knew by instinct that Spain wasn't around—was most likely not even home. Neither the sheets nor the house's atmosphere carried the subtlest spark of Spain's vibrant presence. There was just the kind of chill silence that made Romano feel like his blood was gradually crystallizing.

Crestfallen, he rolled from his stomach onto his side and scrunched his nose while his hand wandered about the empty mattress next to him, fingers curling into nothing but stale air. He was alone in Spain's house, yet again, but this time it was nobody's fault but his because he had slept like a narcotized log.

"Merda...!" Blinking twice, Romano slammed his right fist against his forehead in frustration and turned in the direction of the windows, still processing what had happened this morning. Spain had probably woken up to his alarm clock's shrill command, hadn't seen the need for disturbing Romano's sleep, and had thus taken off without a single word. What a sneaky son of a bitch! He had successfully avoided having breakfast with Romano. The Italian couldn't help but call himself the worst names. After all, getting up on time and making sure Spain would be well taken care of food-wise this morning was part and parcel of his plan. And now? Romano had fucked things up by sleeping in... Why couldn't he do anything right ever? Hitting his forehead another two times with his clenched fist, he groaned and deduced from the light peeking through the closed curtains that it surely had been a while since Spain's departure.

With a mood that could instantly turn milk sour, Romano swung his legs over the edge of the bed and pushed the cheesy novel from the nightstand. Somebody—or rather something—had to suffer Romano's wrath, now that Spain had pissed off and Romano had ruined things. Funny how he hadn't been able to sleep since the incident at the bus stop, but today when he had wanted to be timely awake, he had slept like a baby in Spain's bed. Whatever Spain had done to his bed, it certainly hadn't been the first time Romano had instantly fallen asleep in it despite having trouble falling asleep beforehand. Well, maybe it had something to do with Spain lying next to him, or maybe there was just some kind of sorcery at work. Nobody could tell for sure.

Romano crossed the room to draw both the curtains and the windows open. Taking the warmth and the position of the sun into account, it was between 10 and 11 am. The garden laid whole in its splendor. Leaves were singing a rustling song to the wind's conducting breeze, birds were bouncing over the water fountain's edge, and the sky was just as clear as the day before. It was a day to laze in the sun and read a book while enjoying some homemade pasta and refreshing gelato.

Rubbing his eyes, Romano closed the curtains and windows—otherwise the approaching heat would creep into the house—and left the room. But not without making a quick trip back to the bed to pick up the stupid book: Just because I still need to know how she's going to save her ass. Or her pussy, or both. You never knew with these delicate novels... And it wasn't like Romano had any memories about what Spain had read to him last night. He recalled Spain eating a tomato before he had started reading, but other than that Romano's mind was a blank page.

Accompanied by the padding sounds of his bare feet meeting the stone floor, the personification of South Italy made his way through the far too quiet house, first into the bathroom and then into the living room, where the clock confirmed his perception of time. Now, however, Romano didn't get a chance to work himself up again because his gaze fell upon the large table linking the kitchen with the living room area. Due to the sight, his heart skipped not only one beat but two. As always, Spain had arranged a large breakfast for Romano, offering a tall glass of freshly squeezed orange juice, a small étagère loaded with a multitude of magdalenas, a big bowl of fruit salad, as well as all the ingredients needed to prepare Spain's beloved pan con tomate. Normally, Romano would be more than pleased with the delicious selection of foods, but in view of the circumstances, his depression about messing up his plan only aggravated. How sick was it that Spain had calculated some extra time this morning to take a quick trip to the supermarket and the bakery, so his guest would feel well provided for, whereas Spain himself most likely hadn't had anything for breakfast at all...