I remember when we met. I remember everything between us. Every little thing, from his favorite color to the day of our first kiss. But most of all, I remember how frightened he looked when I was convulsing in his arms, fighting for air to enter my lungs. Fighting for a longer life time to spend with him. I hadn't wanted us to end this way, not when he was so happy, when I was so happy for the first time since…
I remember choking on air, coughing violently, and a warm hand trying to sooth me. A gentle, soft voice telling me everything would be fine. I think I knew it wasn't going to be 'okay' or 'fine'… I think I remember tears...
Remember. That's all I really do here. Remember and long for something. Then wait for something to happen, something to change, anything really.
There's a few things I regret. Everyone does, don't they? I regret not telling Antonio it was terminal. It's a little late for that now...
I'm not dead. Far from it. But I'm not alive. I'm stuck somewhere in between and I don't know where. Sometimes, I feel like can hear his voice talking to me, but it's far away and a jumbled mess. Am I asleep? I want to wake up, if I am. This nothingness is just that, nothing. This nothingness where I feel like I'm floating around with no destination. It's not light and it's not dark. There's no sound, no warmth, no cold. There are no smells here, nothing to taste, nothing to touch. It's like I'm frozen in time and none of my senses work. At all. I don't even know how long it's been. An hour? A day? Weeks? …Years even?
It's... terrifying.
I want to go back. I know my illness was terminal. If I really died, why haven't I moved on?
I want help, an escape route. I want to know where I am. I want to know if someone misses me. I want to know what happened. I want to know what time it is. I want to feel the sun on my face and the coolness of a raindrop on my skin. I want a redo of that seemingly perfect date with Antonio at the park.
I want a lot of things, a lot of things I can't get.
~ooXoo~
A sigh escaped his lips, forehead pressed up against the cold container in front of him. He had his eyes closed, not wanting to see the calm and peaceful expression on the body inside, the beautiful, tan skin exposed to the cold air of the room. How could he look so... so perfect like that?
It was his worst nightmare and his only hope. Every single part of him hated the cold that made his love look dead and loved the cold that kept his love away from the dead. It confused Antonio how he could love and hate the same thing for almost the same reason, but it was true.
"I know you can't hear me." Antonio chuckled sadly, "I wish you could though. I miss hearing you curse at me and seeing that blush on your cheeks. It's cold without your hand in mine, you know. Actually, it's always cold without you, caramelo." He looked down at the ground, smiling at nothing. "I wish you could be here. In the few years you've been gone everything's changed so much… it's almost like the world knew you went away and decided to renew itself… I'm rambling again, aren't I? You hated when I did that..." Tears started making a path down his face.
That was why he didn't go so often, he always ended up trying to talk to nothing and someone at the same time. He always ended up in tears, more so than usual.
"Y-you always managed to shut me up. I never complained, I loved it when you did. You always attacked me with a kiss. I loved-," it was always so hard to accept and he hated it, he didn't want to because Lovino wasn't gone, not yet, "loved it... loved you... love you." He sighed again wiping at his eyes.
He stood awkwardly leaning against the container trying to forget that day that ultimately stole Lovino's warmth exactly three years ago. The sound of a sliding door behind him made him turn and realize just how long he had stood there, was his time up already? He wanted to spend as much time as they'd let him in that frigid room where nothing ever changed.
"Antonio," a blonde haired women said quietly, she smiled gently at him and tapped at her wooden clipboard. "Visiting hours are-"
"I know." He smiled weakly. "Thank you, I just..." Antonio walked forward stopping right next to her. He cast a sad glance back at the container that held his love frozen in place, standing stiffly among the icy smoke that rose and curled around him caressing his body like silk would, "miss him."
The blonde, Bella, placed a hand on his shoulder trying to reassure him. "I know, we all do. The clinic thinks they're close to finding a cure for him." She smiled sadly, looking around the closed containers that held preserved bodies, each one waiting for their own cure to an illness. "I know what it's like..."
Antonio nodded, not reassured in the least, but understanding. "But close can still mean years, Bella... It's been three. H-he still looks twenty-three... I look closer to thirty now..." His words were muttered, sad. Bella laughed lightly at him. "Why are you...?"
"Antonio, you haven't aged much either. You still look the same as three years ago."
He frowned, he'd wanted to grow old with his love, his caramelo, his Lovi.
"Now, come on. We're closing the clinic for the night." He followed her out, glancing back just one more time. There wasn't any movement from the room, it was supposed to be that way anyways. He sighed looking over the face he'd memorized a million times over, the lips he'd kissed a thousand times, and the eyes he wished would open up to show him their beautiful color shining with emotions that would usually be hidden behind a perpetual scowl.
"Amor... I'm sorry you aren't here- where you belong."
~ooXoo~
When can I leave this… can I even call it a place? I don't want to be here. This place, area, state is a nightmare. Either I go back to Antonio, or I go wherever you go after death. And hopefully, that's heaven.
Maybe I'll meet him again?
Maybe... I'll go back. And this time, I'll stay.
Translations:
caramelo- sweetheart (Spanish, literally translates into 'caramel')
A/N: I don't own Hetalia, nor the characters. Thanks for reading!