Once upon a time, in an average little house, in an average little city, there was a tiny little Italian boy who lived with his grandfather. Now this little boy was just like any other, so of course he loved things like drawing, and laughing, to squirm around and make messes. He loved to play silly games, and make his grandfather burst into laughter. He was so happy and full of life, and he had it put in his tiny little head that his mission in life was to make people smile. And so when the news came that he was about to receive a little baby brother, he could hardly contain himself.
Naturally, when the baby actually did come, he was disappointed that they couldn't play together quite yet, but he vowed that when the baby was old enough, he would teach him everything. Everyday, he would draw a little picture for him, to the best of his two(And a half, he'd insist)-year-old capabilities, & show it off to him proudly saying "See this, little brother? Someday, I'm going to teach you to draw just like me!" And so he waited.
As it turns out, he didn't have to wait that long. Before he knew it, little brother was out of the crib and toddling around after him, shouting random words(usually having to do with food) at the top of his lungs and collapsing into fits of giggles whenever he tripped over his stubby little legs. And of course, they drew pictures together. They'd often show off their masterful(or at least they thought they were...) artwork to their grandpa, and he would(pretend to) swoon with pride. And life was perfect.
Then little brother started school.
It wasn't noticeable at first. Grandpa still pretended to be impressed with both of their artwork, and even though Lovino could tell he only really admired Feliciano's, it didn't really matter. At least he was loved, and that was most important. It wasn't until Grandfather started to dismiss him completely that it actually started to hurt.
And so the years went on, Feliciano growing progressively better and better at, well, everything. In grades, in art... Grandfather was overwhelmed with pride. And all Lovino could do was wait on the side, pretending to be proud as well. But in reality, on the inside, sometimes(or maybe all of the time) he wished he could have a little bit of talent for himself. Wasn't there something he could do, just once, to have Grandfather look at him that way?
But he couldn't. He wasn't good at anything, not in the way his brother was. And one day, after yet another school art show where Feliciano had recieved a plethora of applause, Lovino lay across his bed with his hands balled into fists. Why did I even bother to go? He berated himself bitterly. What was the point? Did I really expect anyone to notice I was even there? His brow furrowed, and all the faces started to wander before his eyes, the teachers, the parents, and even his Grandfather's. All of those people that had looked at him with those sorry, condescending eyes that told him he just couldn't compare. Anger began to bubble up inside him, brewing heavily. He furrowed his brow towards the ceiling.
I hate Feliciano.
He flung himself from the bed as soon as he realized what he'd said. NO, no, I don't hate him. I can't hate him. He's my little brother, I can't hate him...
Lovino always felt empty after that. He felt so bitter, so full of sadness, loneliness. But he couldn't hate his brother. He refused to hate his brother. So all of those feelings, all the anger, the hate, they just turned themselves in on him. And he began to hate himself.
It's my own fault. I'm just inadequate.
But hatred is like poison, and it soon began to spread. He became cold and withdrawn, snapping at the slightest provocation. He had grown to the point, he realized with dull intent, where he could hardly be bothered to care about anything anymore. So when Feliciano was accepted to a prestigious art school in Spain and Grandfather decided to move the family there, Romano was indifferent. What, was he supposed to be surprised, or something, that they hadn't even asked his opinion about it? He was only a few years away from graduation anyways, and it wasn't like he had any friends to leave behind. And so off they went to Spain.
He met this ridiculous Spaniard on the first day of class. That idiot had been staring at him all day, and at the end of class he'd come bounding up, gushing about "how cute his curl was, how does he get it to stay that way,""his accent was so cool, where was he from," and all other sorts of stupid questions like that. He'd insisted on walking home with him, and when Lovino refused, he simply followed along anyways(much to Lovino's annoyance).
And so it continued for several days. But Lovino was refusing to buy the act. Because he knew, he knew, that whenever it so happened that Antonio met Feliciano, he'd be forgotten in an instant. So when Feliciano showed up after school one day to surprise him, he was not surprised when, just as he expected, Antonio spewed out love all over him. Disgusting. He started to leave.
"Nooooooooooo, Lovi, where are you going?" Lovino froze. He couldn't possible care that he was leaving, not with his brother there. No. He.. must just be acting polite, and is feeling sorry for me. At this thought, Lovino's temper flared. He turned back with a scowl, ready to spit out a venomous reply, only to realize that he was being glomped. His eyes widened in surprise, and he completely forgot whatever sarcastic retorts had been running through his head.
"Ge-GET OFF ME YOU," he accused, finding his voice. He shoved the older boy away. "And who're you calling Lovi!?" Antonio only pouted.
The next day, Antonio was still gushing about how cute Feliciano was, and hell if Lovino was about to tolerate listening to that. "He's not home today. So if that's the reason you're following me, dammit, then you should just go home now!" Antonio blinked once. Twice.
"Feliciano's cute, Lovi, but you're still my favorite!" Antonio tried to nuzzle into his arm.
"Tch," muttered Lovino, jerking away. "Then there's definitely something wrong with you," Antonio moped lightly, mumbling somethingerothers quietly to himself(Something to do with cute tomatoes, it sounded like. As if that made any sense atall).
Lovino scoffed and proceeded to ignore him. But somewhere inside, he could feel a tiny glimmer of.. something. Happiness? Couldn't possibly. Hope? It was such a... distant feeling, and he really had no idea what to make of it. All that he knew was that this person, this one, idiotic person, was the first one to ever see him. Him. Lovino. Not Feliciano.
For the briefest of moments, he felt like that little boy again. That little boy who had loved to draw, and to laugh, to squirm around, and make messes. That little boy, who, had once wanted nothing more than to make people smile.