Remember Me: A Hetalia Fanfic

Chapter 14

I don't have the time to put all of the translations up, so... sorry. It should be fairly obvious, though.

I also wanted to apologize for somewhat rushing the UsUk relationship. I just felt it was necessary for the future of this story.

I want to also say one more thing. France may be a pervert sometimes to certain extents, but that doesn't mean he's a 'bad guy'. Sorry you had to hear my rant, it's just that everywhere France shows up on the Internet, he is portrayed as the 'bad guy' who is 'power hungry'. I mean, I used to think badly of France until I watched the episode where he says, "Love is something that should not be forced on others." That is true, and I'm sure we can all agree to that. This topic is partly why FrUk was ruined for me, though I still kinda ship it, but I like UsUk better.

Anyway, let's move on with the story, shall we~

Romano's POV~

I was stuck with Spain' 2p, who scared me more than he should have.

Well, it was better than being stuck with 2p me...

As it may have been obvious, Rena was the one who allowed Andres to take me in, after telling him not to murder me.

Convincing, right?

He was lazy, like me, and not like his 1p so much in any way. He just sat down and ate churros on the couch for hours straight, not even offering me any. Not that I would want anything from him, but still.

I was in the living room to his house, just standing there blankly whilst he sat down.

"Ey, bastardo, are you-a going to do anything?" I asked, getting annoyed with this man.

He looked up at me from his couch and the TV lazily.

"I'm already doing something," he informed me.

"Really?" I asked, placing my hands on my hips, "Like what?"

He sighed.

"Watching TV."

"That-a doesn't count, so get your lazy butt up already and-a do something produttivo, no?"

"Don't piss me off, I am under strict orders not to kill you, and we don't want any accidents, sí?"

I gasped slightly, unaware of how murderous my friend's second personality was.

My heart sped up at the mention of him killing me.

He wouldn't really do it... right?

"Of course he would," a small voice in my head started, "what good am I to Spain, anyway?"

"It's his 2p," another part of me thought.

"Still, 2p or not, they are the same person but from different dimensions."

I gulped at his words of intimidation towards me.

"Could-a you at least tell me where the tomatoes are?" I asked quietly.

Without moving his eyes away from the TV, he pointed to a far corner in the distance of the kitchen.

"Dio, aiutami," I muttered super quietly in my native language as I walked towards the tomatoes.

[Italian: Dio, aiutami; God, help me.]

I picked out the freshest one and washed it, letting the clearly visible grains of dirt to blend into the tap water that I washed the tomato with.

I slowly walked away from the sink with the now-clean tomato, slowly taking a bite. It tasted like... cardboard. That was probably because I had no appetite or intention to eat.