A little drabble about the Spanish-American War in which, at 1898 Spain lost his last colonies (Cuba, Phillippines and Puerto Rico). It wasn't so much an economic disaster if not one moral: this was the end of the Spanish Empire. I like Antonio/Arthur relationship not only because of shipping reasons or love, more because they are very similar sometimes.

Please: I'm spanish and I guess I have a medium-decent-something english level but I am looking for someone who could be my beta for me in english (I don't need you know any spanish, I only look someone who can correct my english). My main fandom now is Welcome to Night Vale so if you are fan it would be great.

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At the end of the bar

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Antonio was sitting at the end of the bar when he entered.

That little corner, dark and lonely, seems to be made on purporse for drown tears in vain.

Found him wasn't difficult. Neither sitting at his side. Neither ask to the waiter for a glass of whatever he was drinking. What he didn't was glare to him. Neven when he sat, nor when he picked up the flass, nor when he raised it, nor when he tried and tasted it, nor when he let on the wood bar which was marked with a wet silent circle.

He didn't say anything.

Antonio neither.

He had the shoulders sunken, with head bent down. The tipical bombed, would say anyone. Unless because he wasn't drunk. He just was sunken, beated.

Arthur knew very well that feeling.

"It's not as bad as all that" unlike the spaniard he had the shoulders raised and head looking forward, or to the glass but without that melancholy. It neven was melancholy.

Antonio didn't answer. He didn't seem like he was going to do it. Arthur should get up and leave. It wasn't time or day for being bury in a dark bar.

"You have no idea" muttered Antonio without knowing well what he was saying. Or maybe he knew but he didn't note to who."I don't want your compassion."

"Who is piting you?"

For first time ince he entered at the bar Antonio stared at him. He at least looked like his presence had carried a new emotion to the lead: fury. Beyond sadness.

That was something.

"Don't try to taunt on me. Coming here ad sitting to drink with me without a reason."

Arthur glared his face, evaluating but taking the decision, only for this time, to say anything.

Instead of it he drank another sip.

"You are not so bad, you know it" said after a while. Antonio groaned. "It's only you have get used to them, but you will survive."

Of course Antonio knew it, of course he did. It was his country after all. He knews very well. But he didn't like what he was listening.

"Are you who says it?" he muttered, staring him still holding his glass of alcohol.

Arthur hold that gaze, without a word, but he frowned his lips. That was enought for Antonio: he had the point. He drank another sip.

Now he will leave, thoughs Antonio, and will leave me in peace. It made no difference to him, what is he doing here?

But he didn't leave and asked for another drink.

And another.

And another.

And Antonio didn't remember well anything more.