Just A Dream~Prumano

~Chapter Eight~

~{Romano's POV}~
Okay. Two versions of this. First, how it actually went down:

"ROMANO YOU'RE GOING TO ITALY AND GERMANY'S."

"WHY?"

"BECAUSE YOUR BROTHER MISSES YOU, AND I SAID SO."

"YOUR NOT MY DAD, YOU KNOW!!"

"MIGHT AS WELL BE. YOU'RE IN MY HOUSE, AND YOU LISTEN TO ME. ALSO IT'LL ONLY BE FRANCE AND I HERE TONIGHT, AND WE WANT SOME TIME ALONE."

"THE FUCK DOES THAT MEAN?"

"WE DON'T WANT YOU HERE BECAUSE YOU ONLY YELL AT US TO SHUT UP."

"SPAIN YOU STARTED YELLING AT ME AND WE'RE LITERALLY LIKE TEN FEET AWAY SO I DON'T THINK YOU HAVE ANY ROOM TO TALK."

"I HAVE A WHOLE HOUSE TO TALK."

"OH MY GOD."

"WOULD YOU TWO SHUT UP?!" Oh that one was the neighbors. But this is how it should've gone:

"Hey Romano, I'm sending you to Italy and Germany's tonight, okay?"

"Sure, but why?"

"You're brother wants to see you."

"Oh okay."

"Oh and it'll be just France and I here tonight, and I don't think you want to listen to us because we're worse without Prussia."

"I can understand that."

Huge difference, right? But anyway I stomped up to my room and slammed the door, to make it seem like I was mad. Then I tried not to laugh too loud, because that was hilarious. The yelling, I mean.

Grabbing my bag - a certain, blue one that I use for staying the night at Italy's, even though I don't need anything because I have a whole room there - I scanned my room for something I would need. Then I spotted my popsicle sticks, glue, cardboard, markers, fabric, and playing cards. Perfect, all I need.

Lately, I've been sculpting and building things out of popsicle sticks and cardboard because I don't have a talent - other then dancing but we don't talk about that - like Italy does. I've never seen him sculpt much, only draw and paint. So, I grabbed those things, shoved them in my bag, and took a few chocolates from my secret stash, putting those in too. Only I put them in a little case I made for them so they wouldn't melt in my bag and get all over my things.

The struggles.

Scanning my room twice more, I walked backwards toward the door. Being the clumsy me... I tripped over a marker. Go ahead, laugh.

I threw my arms backwards and gripped onto the door. Don't ask how, I don't know, but what I do know is whatever it was, it saved my clumsy ass.

I got back up and set my bag down. There's no telling when they'll be here, so might as well chill for a while. I walked back down stairs, careful not to trip or miss a step, and grabbed a tomato from the basket on the counter.

"They should be here in about ten minutes," Spain told me. I only shrugged and sat down on the couch, where I was before he started yelling at me.