Hetalia Imagines

romano||scribbled on the bathroom wall

(Oh, hey. I had like, no inspiration this morning so i looked up some prompts an this was my favourite. So, credit for the idea goes to "aerynlallaboso" on Tumblr, or at least that's what they were called, they might have change their name since. The prompt was "saw their number graffitied on a bathroom stall". I changed it slightly but its still pretty much the same.) ((creds to whoever drew the picture))
SILT: Bad at Love- Halsey
Word Count: 366

You were washing your hands in the sink of a public bathroom when you saw it. A number scribbled, in red marker pen, diagonally across the mirror. You sighed (you had planned to use that fucking mirror, but whatever). You pulled out your phone and quickly typed in the number, you had some words for whoever's number it was. After moving to another sink and checking your hair, you walked out of the bathroom and casually strode away. When you reached a park, and you checked that you were alone, you pulled out your phone again and dialed the number. It rang once, twice, three times, fou-*CLICK*

"Ciao?" A groggy, Italian accented, male voice spoke through the other end. You would have swooned at the sexiness of it but you were far too angry over not being able to use a mirror (over-dramatic much?).

"Yeah, hey. Why the fuck was your number written on a bathroom mirror? A GIRLS bathroom at that!" You half shouted, half spoke through the phone.

"Huh?" He spoke again, sounding confused. "My-a number is written on a girls bathroom mirror? How-a did that happen, and why-a are you calling me?"

"Why am I calling you? WHY AM I CALLING YOU?! You just found out that your number is written on a girls bathroom mirror, for all the girls that go in there to see, and all you can say is: "why are you calling me?"?! Are you fucking serious?" You exclaimed angrily into the phone, fed up with this guys attitude.

"Look raggazza, I-a don't know how my number got there, all I-a know is that I woke up to some random raggazza calling me-a about a goddamn phone number that has nothing to do with her. Now-a arrivederci." He said into the phone with an irritated undertone (hey, that rhymes!). You were about to reply but he hung up before you could say even one syllable. How rude! Rolling your eyes, you walked back home and hoped that you never spoke to the strange, hot-headed, Italian on the phone again.

You like? Yes? No? Let me know!

(Okay, this is probably shit but idk, i kinda like it all the same. whatever. Anyway, I'll cut this short and let you get on with your lives. Arrivederci~)
FotD: A crocodile can't poke its tongue out