Left My Heart in RomeMore Like This
“Ironic isn’t it?” Spain remarked randomly.
The notorious BTT had thought it was a good idea to get together at the German brother’s house that night; however, only Spain was left standing, in a matter of speaking. The tan nation, as Germany had noted centuries ago, had a tendency to wax poetry when he got wasted. France and Prussia were passed out on the couch, leaning and drooling on each other’s shoulders, so Germany could only assume it was him that was being addressed.
Yet it was always difficult to tell when it came to Spain.
One minute he’d be reciting poetry at Gilbird, of all things, before cutting off mid-word to hold a one sided conversation with a lamp, usually he would tell the inanimate object ‘my most romantic love story’, gesturing wildly as if trying to be animated enough for the both of them. Germany quietly snorted his disgust into his beer.
How egotistical could you possibly be? He thought.
Prussia snored, drawi