EDIT: September 13, 2016
Rain, rain, rain.
Pitter.
Patter.
Splash.
Pitter.
Patter.
Splash.
The sounds of downpour filled the eardrums of Antonio Fernandez Carriedo. London's weather was... Gloomy, the Spaniard noted. Antonio was unaccustomed to the weather. He was from Spain before his job relocation in the United Kingdom. He didn't expect that he would be living under such dreary weather.
Antonio inwardly cursed himself for not bringing with him an umbrella. Antonio was complacent this morning since the weather was bright but right now, a thunderstorm was lashing outside the office building. With no choice, the young man loitered around the lobby, hoping for the rain to stop. One hour and thirty minutes later, there was no sign of the rain letting up. Antonio gave up his hopes and prepared himself to make a blind dash to the subway (which in itself was mad, crazy idea). Luckily, Lovino Vargas, one of his co-workers, offered him a ride. Antonio was saved from making himself look like a wet chick.
Lovino Vargas was transferred to the London branch more than three years ago. As far as Antonio knew, the man was originally from Rome and was then promoted here in London.
"Thanks Lovi; you really saved me..." Antonio said as he took the front seat.
"Arthur would kill my ass if one his men will not report tomorrow due to getting a cold..." Lovino said in an indifferent tone.
Both of them worked in different departments; Lovino was in the creative team while Antonio was in the marketing and public relations department. Even so, the two worked in several projects together. During their interactions, Antonio noted Lovino's gruff manner of speaking with others (others being mostly men since Lovino was a rumored lady's man; apparently, he was very gentle with the women), was how he expressed his concern to his colleagues' welfare.
As the car had left the basement parking area, it was hammered by the torrential rain. But the sound of the drops were inaudible inside the car. The silence was broken once they reached the main road.
"So where do you live Antonio?" Lovino asked as he made a turn.
"Uh, you can drop me by the station. I can take the train," Antonio replied with an embarrassed tone.
"Take the train in this time and weather?! You're a genuine first-class idiot," Lovino then spoke in Italian after the English sentences and Antonio surmised that the other man was cussing at him.
"Ah well, I don't live within London proper," Antonio said sheepishly.
"I don't either. The prices here are fucking crazy; too expensive for my taste," Lovino said and he gently stepped down on the accelerator when the vehicles had begun to move. "So what is your fucking address?"
"Ah, right yes," Antonio then recited where he lived at like some sort of mantra.
"Oh, I live nearby. I didn't expect that," Lovino replied, eyes on the road and speeding at every opportunity, just to escape the traffic.
The rest of the ride was in silence. Before Antonio knew it, he had reached the doorstep of his house. It was a simple bungalow with a wide enough space for a garden. "Thank you Lovi."
"Yeah, sure," Lovino then sped away when Antonio was inside the house.
Their conversations earlier was a progress. Antonio's first interaction with Lovino was beyond unpleasant. It was a week after his arrival and he was asked to deliver a parcel to a Mr. Lovino Vargas. At that time, Antonio was oblivious that the creative team was busy; since a new project underway, the team was working on a concept. The moment Antonio stepped inside the office, there was an angry man cussing in Italian. Antonio quietly closed the door and reported back to Arthur Kirkland, his boss. The Briton laughed and shrugged off the incident, "Lovino's team is PMS-ing right now. Just let it go Antonio. They hate disturbances."
After a week since the incident, there was an apology note on Antonio's desk along with some delicacies. Arthur, who passed by his table commented, "See, as I said, that team bitches harder than women but they really mean no harm."
In an odd turn of events, Antonio became acquainted with Lovino. Then Antonio had called Mr. Vargas, to Lovino then to Lovi. The nickname transition wasn't easy. The Italian was annoyed, to say the least, but said man then let it pass. Antonio considered it as an approval.
Antonio smiled at the memory and he went to the kitchen and made dinner.
Rain, rain, rain.
Pitter.
Patter.
Splash.
Pitter.
Patter.
Splash.
Several months have passed and the season had changed to summer; torrential rains were rare. The skies were usually clear and the winds were welcomed; it helped alleviate the heat.
As the days continue to pass, Antonio had been feeling that he has feelings of the Italian. This baffled the Spaniard since he would be lightheaded and his gut would twist every time he saw Lovino Vargas. His heartbeat also became erratic.
"Perhaps he had some underlying illness," Antonio rationalized with himself. However, he knew that he was feeling love for his colleague. It wasn't platonic; Antonio was very much sure of this.
Arthur called to Antonio. The Briton was stretching out a brown envelope; the Spanish man approached his boss. "Antonio, please give this to Lovino's team."
"Yes sir," Antonio reached out to the envelope. "Oh and, please tell Lovino that they should prepare for next week's outing. It's only their department that has not sent any proposal," His boss added before leaving the Spaniard.
Antonio began walking to Lovino's office; before he had reached the place, Antonio was feeling faint. He was about to knock at the door when it suddenly opened and a surprised Italian was about to go out.
"Ah, Lovi. Arthur sent me to give this to you," Antonio tried to speak calmly but there were uneven timbers in his voice. To the Spaniard's relief, Lovino did not notice (or did not bother to point it out). "He also said to submit your plans for the outing next week."
"What? Are you the courier or something?" Lovino made a snide comment as he took the envelope. "Ah, only three from my team will go. The rest of us had an unexpected engagement."
"Ah, I'll tell Arthur." Antonio said. The Italian just nodded and exited the office. He then went off somewhere inside the building. On the other hand, Antonio remained rooted on where he stood at. His body, his internal system, was going haywire: extreme palpitations, queasy digestive track. It felt like he was on the verge of a panic attack just by mere presence of Lovino Vargas.
"I think I'll die young," Antonio quietly whispered to himself once he gained composure.
Antonio then reported what Lovino said to him, except for the courier part.
"That's a shame. Well, those three will be absorbed by us," Arthur spoke. "Thanks for going there Antonio."
"No problem Arthur," Antonio replied.
Rain, rain, rain.
Pitter.
Patter.
Splash.
Pitter.
Patter.
Splash.
"Ngh. Arthur," Lovino huffed.
"Lovi...no," Arthur took a deep breath after he spoke the name of the Italian.
A year later, Antonio's unrequited crush became permanently unrequited.
It was lunch break and Antonio was looking for Lovino. He wanted to invite the Italian out for lunch. However, when he opened the door of Lovino's office, he didn't expect what he saw. He first felt anguish, then he felt bile rising and a bitter taste in his mouth. He was felt his chest tighten, it was an excruciating experience; his breath was taking a hitch making it difficult to intake air. When Antonio felt his sense of self return, he left without making any noise.
The following days were gloomy for Antonio Fernandez Carriedo even if the weather was clear and bright. The co-workers of the Spaniard had noticed the change in his mood but no one dared to approach. Dark clouds were hanging over the man's head. The change in mood dampened Antoni's work, so Arthur Kirkland approached Antonio. Arthur had the reputation of a good and caring boss but the way he approached Antonio did not by any means fell under the category. The Briton had smacked a large book unto the head of the Spaniard.
"Git, if you are in a deep shit, sort it out. You are scaring the other members of the team," Arthur said point-blank. Antonio did not give any response and the Briton just left. What the man said irritated Antonio, as if he was not allowed to express what he was feeling. Then again, the latter statement had hit him. It hit him hard. Antonio did not expect his colleagues were feeling that way; he was selfishly absorbed by his own feelings.
What he was under right now was difficult to explain. If he would be asked, it was like a withdrawal syndrome. What Antonio had felt for Lovino was, perhaps, obsession or maybe addiction towards the Italian. Antonio did not know and maybe he could not know. Perhaps a day will come that he will know. But what he had to do now was to change and move forward.