Then Spain was smiling at Romano and gesturing for him to follow. Fucking hell. Nothing remained appealing about eating at this restaurant. Not with stupid Germany and his stupid face and the four fucking faggots with their stupid public displays of revolting affection. Romano turned his back to Spain and crossed his arms. He wanted to go back to the hotel.
“Romano?” Spain asked, suddenly a lot closer than before. “What’s wrong?”
Romano scowled. “I hate everyone that’s here. They’re fucking freaks, and I don’t want to eat with them.” He tightened his arms around himself, ready to put up a fight if Spain tried to drag him in.
Spain was quiet for a moment, and then in an imploring voice, asked, “But you want to eat with me, right?” Romano remained silent. “Please come in and eat, Romano. You won’t have to sit next to anyone you don’t want to. You can sit next to me and Veneziano.”
“Veneziano’s stupid when he’s with that potato bastard.” Almost as bad as those fucking— “They’re all stupid!” Romano cried suddenly. He spun around and started yelling. “Did you see them?! Did you see the way they were acting?!”
“You mean France and—“
“All of them! They were… they’re gay!” Romano’s heart pounded hard, and he felt drenched in a heavy, furious heat. “Did you see that?!”
“I saw that,” Spain murmured. He distanced himself a little from Romano. “But that’s not your problem, is it? Will you really let that ruin your evening?” Before Romano could even answer, Spain left him to go into the restaurant.
Romano blinked and stood frozen in surprise. He had expected at least three more minutes worth of pleading on Spain’s part. He watched as Spain disappeared behind two large doors, and then shifted awkwardly from one foot to the other. A cool breeze chilled him slightly, and Romano rubbed his arms, looking up and down the street in front of the restaurant.
Damn it. There was only one thing Romano hated more than homosexuality, and that was being alone.
He dragged his feet on the way to the entrance and, feeling stupid, pulled the doors open to let himself in. Romano could feel his cheeks growing hot from the embarrassment of having to arrive at the table late and by himself.
“I’m glad you decided to come after all.”
Spain was leaning against a wall, smiling at Romano. Waiting for him. A warmth in Romano’s stomach replaced the chill from before. He didn’t say anything as he joined Spain in walking to their table, but he hoped Spain took his silence as gratitude.
Untitled 5c/?
“Romano?” Spain asked, suddenly a lot closer than before. “What’s wrong?”
Romano scowled. “I hate everyone that’s here. They’re fucking freaks, and I don’t want to eat with them.” He tightened his arms around himself, ready to put up a fight if Spain tried to drag him in.
Spain was quiet for a moment, and then in an imploring voice, asked, “But you want to eat with me, right?” Romano remained silent. “Please come in and eat, Romano. You won’t have to sit next to anyone you don’t want to. You can sit next to me and Veneziano.”
“Veneziano’s stupid when he’s with that potato bastard.” Almost as bad as those fucking— “They’re all stupid!” Romano cried suddenly. He spun around and started yelling. “Did you see them?! Did you see the way they were acting?!”
“You mean France and—“
“All of them! They were… they’re gay!” Romano’s heart pounded hard, and he felt drenched in a heavy, furious heat. “Did you see that?!”
“I saw that,” Spain murmured. He distanced himself a little from Romano. “But that’s not your problem, is it? Will you really let that ruin your evening?” Before Romano could even answer, Spain left him to go into the restaurant.
Romano blinked and stood frozen in surprise. He had expected at least three more minutes worth of pleading on Spain’s part. He watched as Spain disappeared behind two large doors, and then shifted awkwardly from one foot to the other. A cool breeze chilled him slightly, and Romano rubbed his arms, looking up and down the street in front of the restaurant.
Damn it. There was only one thing Romano hated more than homosexuality, and that was being alone.
He dragged his feet on the way to the entrance and, feeling stupid, pulled the doors open to let himself in. Romano could feel his cheeks growing hot from the embarrassment of having to arrive at the table late and by himself.
“I’m glad you decided to come after all.”
Spain was leaning against a wall, smiling at Romano. Waiting for him. A warmth in Romano’s stomach replaced the chill from before. He didn’t say anything as he joined Spain in walking to their table, but he hoped Spain took his silence as gratitude.
*~*~*