Not much to say about this chapter except for thanks for deciding to read! This was thought up by me and a very good friend of mine on here turtle001. This chapter is to just kick things off. It'll get longer. Promise.
Enjoy!
Disclaimer: I will never own Hetalia.
Warnings: Language
Chapter One
"Why don't you just get off my case already? I went out for a few drinks, okay? Stop being so fucking overprotective! Give me some fucking space! Damn!" Lovino retorted with cheeks tinged pink.
"Lovi, have you not seen the news? The crime around here has gotten worse and worse! I don't want anything happening to you!" Antonio tried reasoning with his little tomato but he could clearly see that the latter had too much to drink—if not then he nearly did.
"How many times do I have to tell to not call me 'Lovi'? It's annoying as hell! My name is Lovino," he was kicking off his shoes. "We've only been in this country two fucking years and you still won't get off my back! I'm not some teenager who needs to be kept on a leash all the damn time! I was with Feliciano! Nothing was going to happen!"
The possibilities ran through Antonio's head but he wasn't going to voice them. That would only anger the Italian further. So, trying to make peace between them, Antonio took a deep breath and used a much calmer tone. "Lovino," he was careful to use the man's full name. "I was just worried about you. I didn't mean to make you mad."
"Yeah, well, you did!" Lovino's tone was merciless.
Antonio was about to speak when Lovino interrupted him, "I just want to be alone, okay? I've got a headache and need some sleep."
The door to their shared bedroom closed with an unbearable click.
Antonio was infuriated now! So much for trying to set things straight! Grabbing his coat and slipping on his shoes, the Spaniard stormed out of the house and to his car, intending to clear his head with a drive around town. Thirty minutes wouldn't hurt.
They were just too different, he and Lovino. Maybe they weren't meant to be…
No, no! He couldn't allow himself to think like that! This entire thing would blow over in about an hour or so when Lovino finally had the chance to shake off the alcohol running through his system. If Feliciano was there with him at the bar then there was no doubt the young Italian chatted Lovino's ear off the entire time. And Lovino already lacked patience for his younger brother—the alcohol helped none.
Stopping to reconsider leaving his boyfriend alone at this time of night, he took note that the neighborhood was too quiet, the sky was too dark and the stars were too bright. The diamond pinpoints in the sky were watching him, analyzing his every move and the velvet sky cast large shadows that even scared the crickets out of their song for the evening.
Maybe he should go back…
No, that probably wouldn't be wise. It would just spark another unnecessary argument.
Lovino wanted some "space"? Well, damn it, the man was going to get some "space."
Antonio continued towards his vehicle, ignoring the dangerous somersaults his stomach was taking. It must've just been something he ate, Antonio thought. Pulling out of the driveway, the headlights scanned across the front of the house and illuminating a dark figure beside the house.
"It's just an old tree," the Spaniard kept disregarding his stomach's lurches and sped away.
However, the "tree" made its way to the front door.
The door creaking open inside the quiet house might as well have been a scream. With stealth and precision, he was careful not to make too much noise inside the dark home but he moved with accuracy—he had been here hundreds of times and knew the layout of this house like the back of his hand.
Hearing the sound of the front door opening, forest green eyes stared into the darkness, the only light being that of the full moon. Lovino sat up, his senses on high alert. Was Antonio already back? Fighting the sledgehammer beating relentlessly into his head, the Italian slid out of bed and poked his head out of the bedroom door to check things out. When he deemed it relatively safe, Lovino flicked on the switch.
His shoes made soft squelching noises and he smirked as his plan was set into motion. He was caught unaware as the hall light turned on and he swiftly moved to blanket himself in the shadows.
"Antonio? Is that you?" Lovino called out down the hall, obviously too anxious to venture out into the dark living room alone. Smart man, the invader had to admit. Looks like he'd been watching those horror films where the idiotic teenager goes to investigate and ends up getting killed.
He wanted to laugh at how pathetic and frail Lovino sounded. It amused him to no end.
The knife that glinted in the intruder's hand reflected the intentions of his ardent eyes.
"Antonio, this is no time for a game. Stop fucking around," Lovino's tone carried apprehension close by and that made trespasser's sneer broaden and even a small chuckle escaped.
This would be too fun!
This would be too easy!
Like a lamb to the slaughter.
And it would be a slaughter.
One that would be a beautiful symphony of pain, screaming and the sound of gunshots… yes. He glanced around—the walls needed to be repainted anyway. And what better color than to be a vibrant crimson? It would make the place so much more… livelier.
Seeing that Lovino had no intention of coming any further, the invader scuffled his feet across the floor, effectively drawing the Italian's attention. Lovino didn't advance further though; he only froze at his bedroom door.
"Antonio?"
Silence.
Darkness.
Uncertainty.
Desperation.
Fear.
"Okay, look, I'm sorry I yelled at you earlier, all right? It was a long day at work and it wasn't right of me to take it out on you. Just stop playing this stupid ass game! It's not funny!" Lovino felt his feet involuntarily moving forward.
"Who said it's a game?" the intruder's voice was almost a playful purr.
Lovino, jumping back as soon as he heard the voice, could only stare in trepidation when he was staring at a familiar face. And said familiar person was now raising his gun to pull the trigger.
The man grinned.
"Run."
Antonio pulled into the driveway after his thirty minute cool-off. The streets were practically barren this late into the evening so he had no quarrels with traffic to set him off again. Walking with a hop in his step, Antonio was in no hurry open the door. The feeling from before had vanished but as soon as he put his hand on that brass knob to enter his home, a strong chill ran up his arm and rippled throughout his body, making his breath catch and heart stop.
Whatever had happened, his instincts were telling him to not go in… to not see what lay in store for him. With a stiff hand, he turned it and was met with a dark home—just as he had left it. But something was wrong. Terribly wrong. He ran his hand along the wall to feel for the switch to try and alleviate his overwhelming sense of dread but when he found it, no light came on.
Okay, so maybe the bulb burned out?
"Lovi?" Antonio called and was only answered by the beating of his own heart against his ribcage. "Lovino, where are you?"
The Italian could very well be asleep.
Searching for the lamp that was near the door, he turned it on. And he nearly collapsed to his knees. The living room was trashed: broken glass, scattered papers… blood on the walls and on the carpet. The red splotches on the floor were far too large…
"Lovino!" Antonio took off in a sprint up the stairs, checking every single room and finding nothing. He did the same when he came back down, checking the bathroom, their bedroom, the guest room. "Lovino where are you!"
A cold gust of air wafted through the room, drawing Antonio's attention to the back door.
"Lovino?" he followed his gut and went outside. "Are you out here?"
There he found his beloved in a jumbled mess on the patio with clothes stained red and a pool of it collecting beneath him.
"Lovino!" Antonio carefully cradled his lover into his arms.
The Italian's skin was a deathly pale, taking in shallow, much needed breaths, clinging onto this life with a weak will. Through half-lidded eyes, the duo made eye contact before they slipped closed. Antonio shakily stood and rushed out to his car, praying that his little tomato would make it. Little did he know that it would be the last time he would see those beautiful forest green eyes.
