Don't own Hetalia nor the pairing Spamano. Enjoy.

His beloved tomate…changed. The feisty and fast at cussing Italian he knew changed into a gloomy, timid teen. All the little complaints he would make about everything died out along with his voice. The permanent scowl or occasional smiles Antonio would see were well hidden behind a mask with a drawing of a smiley face, which only covered his mouth and down. The sharp eyes of hawks were no more, reduced to blank, teary eyes.

Antonio promised with all his being to keep Lovi safe and happy, but as always, fate had a way to tamper with such promises.

Antonio didn't know what caused it anymore. Was it the fact that he hadn't heard from his twin in over a year? Was it the fact that he found out that he had a dangerous condition—he never mentioned it to Antonio, but he could tell it was serious. Was it the fact that he wasn't accepted into a college—the Spaniard found that out when Lovi refused to leave the apartment complex the day after the letter was sent. Was it because of the after school job he did at the local pizzeria as a janitor—probably the only job he'd be able to have, without a college degree.

After discovering and stopping Lovi from trying to do anything crazy or disappear, forever, Antonio finally had enough. He was going to make his tomate shine and smile no matter what, even if involved force.

"Breaking" into Lovino's apartment room one afternoon after school—Lovino was off work that day—the Spaniard hid Lovi's smiley mask under the couch as the petite Italian napped on his study table. There were heavy bags under the Italian's eyes and he was way skinnier than normal. Was he skipping meals?

Like a mother, Antonio draped a blanket over the Italian's back and shoulder before closing the door as quietly as he could. Rubbing his hands together, he began some pasta for dinner. He didn't think the Italian would mind if he stayed a bit longer than usual…

It was around seven p.m. when the Italian woke up from his sleep. Wiping the drool off his face, he stared at the blanket on top of him curiously before going to the kitchen, blanket cloak and all.

"Hi Lovi" chirped the Spaniard, showing him the freshly made pasta. Lovino gave him the usual blank stare before edging over to the couch. Without the mask covering his mouth, Antonio saw the permanent slight frown on his friend's face.

As the two ate their pasta, Lovino finally broke the awkward silence.

"Where's my mask, Toni?"

Antonio nearly choked on his forkful of pasta. Out of all of the things you could talk about, you chose that… You're more desperate than I thought…

"What makes you think I have it?"

"Don't lie to me, Toni. Where's my mask?" In all dead seriousness, the Italian wasn't joking. Antonio's fork clattered onto his bowl as he looked the other way.

"I'm not lying," he teased, but it didn't change Lovi's mood.

One second, everything was in order, the next, pasta and shattered glass flew everywhere as Lovino body-slammed Antonio onto his back, pinning him on the couch. His usual blank eyes screamed with anger and hurt.

"Don't give me that kind of s—"

"Language," Antonio warned, still teasing even in this situation.

"Shut up!"

Pain ricocheted through Lovi's heart as his head fell to Antonio's chest, crying. Antonio touched the spot where Lovino slapped him.

"You'll never understand me, and don't even trying to fake it either! I hate it so much…I hate having your pity eyes looking down on me!" A fistful of the Spaniard's shirt, he whimpered, "Why do you even care?"

"You're my friend—"

"Don't give me that girly explanation!" Lovino snapped. "You don't get it, do you?"

"Lovi, please let me—"

"Heck no, if you think I'm going to hear your explanation, then you've—"

It was complete instinct. Kneeing his friend in the stomach, Antonio pulled Lovi's hair curl—his Achilles heel—before pushing and pinning him onto the other side of the bed. Hissing in pain, he tried to push the taller teen off of him, but Antonio had a firm hold.

"Just shut up and listen. What happened to you? You used to be so full of yourself, but now, you're acting like a sniveling little coward. Has wearing a mask worn you down this much? What happened to that feisty, cussing Italian from before? What happened to the Italian that was my friend? What happened to the Italian that would complain about everything I did, but still had a smile when he said it?"

Biting back his counter attack, Lovino broke down, but Antonio kept him up. Pulling the Italian to sit up, he gave him a hug.

"Lo siento , Lovi; I just had to say something. Seeing you so down pains my heart so much. Please, smile for me? It's going to be okay," he whispered.

"I'm going to ruin your shirt," he murmured, "with my tears." Random as always, mi tomate, Antonio thought, reaching for the smiley mask he hid hours before. Putting it into Lovi's balled fists, Antonio whispered,

"You can have it back. Smile, please?"

Warm hands crept over Antonio's back, Lovi was hugging him. Dropping the smiley mask, the tears in Lovino's eyes disappeared, leaving his face in an angelic glow. It was small, but it was the smile the "stupid" Spaniard asked for.

I don't think I need my mask anymore…