He carefully strummed the strings to his guitar. The notes carried by the warm Tuscany wind. Tall towers of yellow flowers danced to the casual plucking of the wooden instrument with their invisible partner that was the breeze.
His brother, painting as usual, was only a few feet away from him, in the middle of the sunflower field. Their maroon blanket scattered with pillows of random sizes and shapes, lies delicately in a small patch that seemed to have not grown anything. The brothers thought of it as an island when they first arrived, their own little paradise.
A small table was seated at the edge, holding up an open bottle of wine and two glasses. One filled only a quarter to the way up, while the other was completely empty. A small dish of what used to hold an assortment of cheeses and crackers only held crumbs.
The sky above reflected perfect shade of blue occasionally speckled with white clouds. Another set of notes was played as his little brother continued to work his artistic magic.
"Such a beautiful day, isn't it Romano." He dabbed at the yellow paint before bringing his arm up to paint some more.
Romano hummed his replay in an agreeing fashion. He continued to pluck at his guitar, strumming out another melody.
"I'm glad we took the time off to spend such a wonderful day together, ve~ wouldn't you agree, Romano?" Romano answered his brother with another hum, closing his eyes as a strong breeze rushed past his face.
It was warm and it smelled of summer. The sun's rays bounced off his skin, making that too warm. He could see the light illuminate trough his eye lids a little, and even though it was bright, he felt the need to take a nap and dream of the sunflower field some more.
"Uh, Romano?" Romano sighed quietly and kept is eyes closed as he addressed his younger brother.
"What is it, Feliciano?" He grumbled slightly, trying hard not to let his irritation be heard.
"Could you keep playing your guitar? It's giving me some great inspiration!" Feliciano said in his usual cheerful manor.
Romano opened his eyes and looked down at his wooden instrument. A dark brown brow shot to his hairline as he noticed that his hand had stopped moving. Indeed he had stopped playing. When did that happen? ... It must be the sun; it's getting to my head.
"Va bene, Feliciano, I'll keep playing. Just don't get paint all over the blanket while you work on your 'inspiration'."
"Technically, fratello, inspiration is the idea you get from something, I'm working on a painting from that inspiration."
"Yeah, whatever…" Romano smiled as he strummed his guitar again and began another made up tune. Something slow, soft, and beautiful that could be carried onto the warm breeze. Something like the summer day, spent together on their little island paradise.