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- Sir, perhaps you should stop hiding behind this bush and sit down? Perhaps I could get you a glass of water?
- Ah!... No, I'm quite well where I am right now... Just make sure no one sits down at that table! - loudly whispered Romano at the waiter. He didn't really want to give up his lookout position quite yet, just after mere twenty five minutes of hiding. Technically his date is not supposed to start until fifteen minutes later, but he couldn't sleep all night. He spent hours upon hours of picking what he is going to wear, then cleaning up (poorly) the resulted mess, discarding the previously chosen wardrobe because he decided it would clash with Spain's hair, and then aimlessly circling around the establishment where they planned to meet... But he decided beforehand that he will wait for Spain to show up first and then join him fashionably late. He didn't want to appear that desperate. Not really.
Spain was looking forward to this day all week. He made various preparations, wanting to make sure that everything goes perfect. Unfortunately he didn’t take into account just one thing that probably wouldn’t have mattered at all have he left his apartment just one minute sooner. As soon as he was getting ready he heard the most horrifying howl that he has ever heard in his life. Shivering, he peaked out the door. That fraction of a second was enough for pissed, angry and drunk England to barge inside.
Two hours in Romano decided to give up and sit down. He was still trying to rationalize the absence of Spain. Perhaps he has simply overslept; after all, they did decide to meet rather early. Perhaps something happened... An accident! But, no, Italian quickly calmed himself. They were nations, after all. Simple accidents, even deliberate assassination attempts by mere humans wouldn't leave them incapacitated for a long period of time. And last time he checked, Spain's economy was on a decent level... no sort of emergencies written about in the newspaper... Dammit, where is that bastard!
Drunken England is a scary sight, indeed. He was virtually a hostage within his own apartment. Every time he tried to inch away toward the exit, Arthur just grabbed him by his clothes and told him another soul-wrenching story about what an ungrateful brat Alfred is, and how on such an important day he just ignores him. And every time Spain tried to explain England that maybe, just maybe he could have plans that day, he was greeted by a scowl and a declaration of war. And then Arthur would lose his trail of though and start telling the story from the beginning.
After shooing away the waiter for the umpteenth time (who kept trying to get him to order something), Italian was becoming genuinely angry. How did Spain possibly dare to stand him up! How dare he forget that they were planning to meet! Perhaps he is spying on his brother and that potato-head... The sight of those happy couples sitting around him, whispering sweet nothings to each other was making him sick. He wanted to cry, but kept it in himself, not wanting to give that bastard the satisfaction of knowing he made him feel miserable. He kept staring at the phone, waiting for a call from Spain that would explain everything; damn, he wanted to call him himself, to yell at him, to make him come here and apologize! But he didn't and just kept waiting and waiting and waiting.
Spain managed to hide himself from England in the toilet. Damn, the window is too small to get through, but at the very least he could try calling Romano. He knows the number by heart, but the only message he gets is "We're sorry; the person you are trying to reach is not accepting calls at this time". And then he mentally groans - Romano forgot to pay for his phone again, apparently... He doesn't have time to do anything else because he hears glass breaking and a string of English curses - Arthur has found his fridge and is currently going through it in search for more alcohol. This did require his immediate attention if he wanted to keep his kitchen from being vandalized.
He should leave. He most definitely and absolutely should get up and leave, right now. There is really no point any more of staying here. And he actually does get up, but then powerlessly falls down into his seat and buries his head in his arms. What if he leaves and then Spain would show up, and then, and then...! Dammit, that idiot made him miss Siesta... Suddenly he feels sudden movement beside him, his head jerks up -
- What, a pretty girl stood you up? - and then he sinks back in his chair even further because it isn't Spain. A girl in front of him, one of those happy in a relationship type, places a flower from a big bouquet on the table, pity evident in her eyes. Romano starts feeling especially bitter at this and uncommitally shrugs, - Then she probably doesn't deserve you, and you should find someone who appreciates you more.
And then she giggles and leaves hand in hand with her boyfriend. And Italian is left alone again, with a hole in his chest. No, Spain doesn't appreciate him, he never did. And he really doesn't deserve him. But! But Romano loves him. And that's enough to keep him there.
Eventually Spain convinced Englishman to go cry to Francis. Immediately after being released from the ordeal of being a shoulder to cry on, he storms outside. He is too impatient to wait for a taxi, and just runs all the way to the restaurant. Silly, probably, no reasonable person would ever stay for that long waiting for a date that didn't show up. And Romano would probably hate him for the rest of time, and would never want to see him ever again, and..! But he simply has to get there, because otherwise he would never forgive himself, either. Failing to catch his breath he opens the door, and his heart breaks. Whether it is from pure joy of seeing the Italian sitting there, or from waves of absolute despair that the figure in front of him emits, he doesn't quite know. He quietly comes from behind, leans ever so slightly and whispers -
- Happy Valentine's Day, Lovi.
Romano doesn't react. He thinks that this is his imagination again, therefore he doesn't give into the temptation of turning around. But then he feels hands around him, sweeping him into a desperate hug. He catches his breath, breaks away, and his eyes widen as he finally sees the one for whom he was waiting all day long. And then he can't quite hold back sobs as he buries his forehead into the crook of Spain's neck, his angry fists slamming into the other's chest.
- Where have you been, you bastard?!
- Ah, um... Heh. Busy day, you know?
And then Italian proceeds to weep openly, long and hard. After a while, though, his sobs began to quiet down, his breath slowly evened out.
- Sirs, I didn't want to interrupt such a touching moment, but we have closed five minutes ago, - Spain has nodded at this, but Romano hasn't moved an inch.
- Ne, Lovi, have you heard the waiter? We need to go... Lovi? Lovino? - and then whatever else he had to say didn't quite seem so important anymore because Italian was soundly asleep against him.