“Fuck you!” screamed the physically-12 year old boy before running back into the house, leaving the older nation in the literal dust. Romano ran through the twisting hallways of the manor, taking the long and complicated way to blow off steam. Finally arriving to the door he was looking for, he began kicking at it.

            Belgium opened the door after a minute of kicking, her eyes full of concern as she stepped back to let the angry pre-teen into her bedroom. Romano stomped to the bed, sitting on it cross-legged and crossed his arms as he glared at the window. The curtains were drawn, so he couldn’t see outside. Belgium opened them, letting in light and offering a view of Spain as he continued his gardening.

            “Hello, Roma~” sang Belgium, sitting on the bed across from Romano.

            “I hate him,” he answered. His glare burned through the window and he hoped Spain could feel it. Belgium sighed a little sigh and shook her head, smiling lightly.

            “No, you don’t,” she said, patting his hand. He flinched from her touch and she frowned. “I know you don’t. You know you don’t.”

            Romano glanced over at Belgium, an angry pout on his face. He didn’t answer and flicked his eyes back to watch Spain as he walked out of view, straw hat covering his face. Romano huffed and settled into the bed.

            “Roma, dear, what happened this time?” Belgium asked softly, lacing her fingers with his small ones. They were dusty and dirty from working in the garden, his knees covered in grass stains, and she grimaced at having his dirty bare feet on her blanket. Romano shook his head, lips pursed to keep from wobbling and having his secrets spill out. Belgium pulled the poor boy closer, letting his head rest on her shoulder. “Okay, okay… Not today…”

            Everyday, Romano would get angry at something Spain said. Usually an offhand comment about how cute and childish he was or wanting to hang out with Prussia or France again. It didn’t take much for the nation-boy to be angered. And it didn’t take much to confuse the nation-man. Belgium was always, always, the one either male went to for help. To calm one and bring the other up to speed. Yes, it was tiring. But she would do anything for these two. Even if she ended up with a dirty, tear-stained bed or ripped out hair from trying to explain.

            “You’ll realize one day… You both will…”