Chibi Romano and Big Brother England
Ever wonder why France had such a fascination with Chibi Romano? Itr's because he used to belong to England. Note: In here, Romano is obviously a chibi but Iggy is a teenager. He may be younger than France but physically grew up faster than him.
"Grande fratello!" I call out as I toddle around the house looking for him. "Ugh, where is that d*** b******?" I mutter to myself, glad to be able to use bad language, if only for a few minutes.
"Big brother, where the h*** are you?!" I yell, louder than the other times. "He's probably in his special room or something," I think to myself. I go over to and up the stairs as fast as I can manage, which isn't very fast. I may be able to run at top speed but I suck at stairs. I'm only a little kid after all. I finally get to the top of them then hurry to the door of Mr. England's special room. He never lets me in there, but I know when he's in there because he can't hear me calling for him when he is. It's the only sound (and me) proof room in the house. I go up to the door and knock. It opend within a few seconds.
"Oh, hello Romano. I wasn't expecting you to be up so soon. I was going to let you sleep in a while today," he says. I curse myself in my mind. I had gotten up early to straighten up a bit then give him his tea this morning. I had gone into his room with it to find he was already awake.
"Uh, I- uh- guess I'm just used to waking up early," I lie. I wanted to impress Mr. England. My idiota fratello, Veneziano, got to spend all his time with Grandpa Rome while Grandpa spent none with me. My brother was actually with him right now, learning how to paint and sing and all that cr*polla. I had just been holding my own well enough when I met Mr. England. He was argueing with my brother France, my brother Spain watching closely, and had stopped immediatly when he noticed me. My idioto brothers had tried to keep me away from him, but I decided to go with him to spite them. They were always talking about Veneziano anyway. Besides, it shows how much they care about me considering they call him Italy. I'm Italy, too, after all.
"Ah, that makes sense," he agrees passivly. There's a dead beat of akward silence.
"I made your tea, Mr. England," I inform him.
"Thank you, Romano, and I've told you before you needn't call me "Mr." or even big brother as you often do. Britain and England are perfectly fine." He smiles down at me.
"Well, I-a call you big bother because I don't like any of my actual brothers. They're all as-"
"Watch your language, Romano," he reminds me sternly. He doesn't like me cursing, even though I hear him curse all the time.
"Right, mi dispaice. Anyway, I don't like any of my actual brothers, so I call you my brother," I explain, feeling a blush spread across my face. England's face softens from the hardness it always holds.
"You know," he begins, kneeling beside me, "your brothers aren't half bad, well, not including that frog face, France."
"Yes, they are! They and my stupido Grandpa only care about il mio fottuto fratello, Veneziano, e non frega niente di me. Sto solo spreco di spazio per loro! E 'questa l'Italia e l'Italia che, oltre lui non è nemmeno tutta Italia! Sono l'intera fottuta metà meridionale di esso! Eppure mi Romano e lo chiamano l'Italia! Sono anche l'Italia, e sono stufo di gente dimenticarlo! [my f***ing brother, Veneziano, and not give a d*** about me. I'm just a waste of space to them! And it's always Italy this and Italy that, when he is not even all of Italy! I am the f***ing entire southern half of it! Yet I'm called Romano and him, Italy! I am also Italy, and I'm tired of people forgetting it!]" I rant, pacing while I do so. I don't care if he fusses at me for cussing. Then i remeber, I've just broken one of his rules. He said he hates when he's disrespected in his own house so he made it a rule for me not to do so.
"Romano?" he asks calmly, but I just keep pacing.
"Oh great, he probably doesn't want me to be here anymore. I've screwed things up again," I think, sadly.
"Romano!" he says louder. I finally stop and look at him.
"What? Are you going to try to tell me to leave nicely? Forget the theatrics. I've known it would end the same way anyway," I gripe then, before he answers, I run past him, down the stairs, and into my room. I plop on my small bed and feel tears coming.
"No, idiota! No tears! You need to pack a few things then just leave so he won't have to kick you out," I think to myself. I get up and hurry to collect the only other clothes I have, my white outfit that I was wearing when I first woke up a new country and a small green cloak that England gave to me. I halfway want to leave it to have a clean break off from him but, ... I actually like living here. Sure the food absolutely sucks if he makes it, but I always made it instead. I mentally shake myself again.
"He doesn't want you anymore, so suck it up. Take the cloak with you. If he asks about it later, say you burned it or something," I mutter to myself. I toss the few items on my bed. Then I quickly slip out the door and into the kitchen. I grab a container of spice that I originally brought with me. I've used most of it, but there's still a little left. I hurry back to my room. I lock the door once again then change out of my working outfit and into the white uniform. I use my apron as a makeshift bag for the other things then go over to my desk. I pull out a quill, ink, and peice of paper. (It's all England has to write with in his house out of pure stubborness.)
I think for a moment the write,
"Dear British B***ardo,
I'm leaving. You obviously don't want me anymore, just like everybody else.
I'll be gone by time you read this so don't bother trying to catch up to me.
P.S. Your food still sucks."
I stare at the note a moment, wipe the tear forming in my eye then pick up my makeshift sack and go out of my room. I look around one last time then hurry out the back door. I take off running and don't stop until I've reached the sea. I go to the nearest dock and get on a ship set for France. As the ship starts to leave,I'm hanging over the side, waving, when I can swear I hear Britain yelling for me, but I brush it off. He doesn't want me so why would he be here? I hop down off the rail and go off in search of a place for me to take a seista.
*** Britain's P.O.V.- right after Romano left***
I'm at the top of the stairs when I hear the back door slam shut. "S***!" I curse. I run down the stairs and to Romano's room. I'd decided to leave him be for a little while. I get to the door to find it cracked slightly.
"Romano?" I ask, hoping he's there, but when I push the door, he isn't as I'd figured he wouldn't be. I turn to leave when a flutter of ivory catches my eye. I look for it to see that it's a peice of paper on his little writing desk. I go over to it and pick it up then read it over several times before the message sinks in. HE LEFT?!?! I curse over and over again then bolt out of the room to the back door. He's nowhere in sight.
"Where would he go?" I think then come up with the obvious answer. Home. I take off running, making a straight shot for the coast that's about 6 kilometers away from my estate. I run as fast as I can manage, hoping something slowed him down. Somehow that kid could run faster than anybody if motivated. I reach the coast within an hour.
"Thank- goodness we- countries- can run faster- than normal people," I murmur to myself, between my panting. I hurry to the docks a few hundreds meters away.
"Sir, you wouldn't have happened to see a little boy with dark brown hair with an odd curl out to the side of his head around here, have you?" I ask to the nearest person.
"I seen no'un young'r 'en yurself, lad," he says to my disappointment.
"Thank you, anyway." I hurry up the busy area, scowering it with my eyes, looking for some sign of the small Italian boy. I accidentally bump into someone then and get spun around and land on the ground. I curse again as I stand, throwing a rushed apology in the vague direction of the person. Then, I catch a glimpse of somebody a lot shorter than everybody else. I squint my eyes and am able to make out his brown hair.
"Romano!" I call out but the dock is to loud for me to be heard. I start to run to where he is, to notice that he's going up the ramp onto a ship. I yell his name again but he still doesn't seem to hear. I'm not paying attention to where I'm going, so I run straight into a man's cart and topple it over. I swear at the top of my lungs as pain shoots through my abdomen but nobody's bothered by it. Not here where sailors always remain. I try to stand again but then realize that I'd hit it harder than I'd thought. There's a screaming protest in my rib cage when I move.
"D***it, broken rib," my mind comes up with. I glance towards the ship. I frantically look at the faces of the people saying goodbyes then somehow find him again, halfway over the side rail, waving like crazy to nobody in particular. I suck in a deep breath despite the agony it brings and let out one last desprate attempt for him to see me, see that I care and want him to stay. He seems to glance over the crowd once more the hops down and saunters out of sight. I relaxe my head, defeated. Eventually, then cart owner is able to help me up. I walk home slowly, the journey going later than it should have taken. When I finally get there, the sun is beginning to rise again. I go inside the now empty house.
"I'll miss you, Rom-" I begin to say, then remember something he'd said before. I smile grimly then start over. "I'll miss you, Italy Romano."