HEY GUYS! I got a new laptop for Christmas! my old one got a virus and got messed up :(
I don't want to bore you guys with an extremely lengthy Authors note but if you want to know what's going to be going on with my stories for the next couple of weeks, check my profile!
This is a Christmas one-shot for you guys based off of Shane Dawson's Maybe This Christmas music video.
It is sad, and I apologize from the beginning, but it's lengthy :D
Enjoy, my cupcakes!
Lovino Vargas woke up that Christmas morning as he did the past few years: cold, bitter, and irate. His breaths were uneven and shaky upon waking up as his thin fingers snaked into his chestnut colored locks and tugged lightly. He sat up, taking in the bland decorations in his bedroom. Just a few pictures pinned onto the pale crimson walls. Bills, - both paid and overdue - unimportant letters, and family greetings scattered about lazily in the dark room. Nothing eccentric or outgoing, he had gotten rid of that stuff years ago.
With grubby movements and foul curse words, Lovino managed to kick his feet to hang on the edge of the bed as his hands gripped the sheets in unspoken desperation. He huffed out a breath, which caused his unruly hair to flutter, and stood up to make his dreaded march to the closet. Hazel eyes shot around in search of what to wear, not that it mattered anyway. He settled on checking the hangers one by one, only to retract his hand upon touching a trite, unpleasingly decorated Christmas sweater.
He bit his lip and pushed the unattractive piece of clothing aside, settling for a black V-neck buried at the end of his closet. He matched it with a pair of dark jeans and black socks - too lazy to be bothered with putting on shoes in his own house. With another groan, the Italian slammed his closet door shut and trudged into the kitchen to start on his mug of coffee.
He usually hated the dull drink, but for some reason, Christmas made him crave the foul tasting, bitter substance. He came to the conclusion of it being because it mirrored how he felt on that day, not that it was any different from his attitude any other day of the year.
In the far corner of the room, sitting -almost completely - still and silent, a head of chocolate colored curls danced in a disapproving manor. Green eyes stared at the grumpy man with such a deep, heartfelt longing for both him and his happiness. He hated how Lovino recoiled into his bitter, lonely self after all the years it had taken him to pull him out. He missed his genuine smiles, - the ones only seen by his eyes - and his rewarding laughs every time he said or did something silly. He missed the man Lovino had become when they were together.
Glistening snowflakes continued to lightly pile up on top of one another, but Lovino couldn't help but be distracted by the blond couple bickering across the street as they finished putting the final decorations on their home for their yearly Christmas party. His sickly fingers tightened around the rim of his empty, black mug as the taller one stepped down on the ladder and placed a chaste kiss on the shorter man's thin, chapped lips. The brunette gulped back his emotions and redirected his gaze to the utensil filled sink.
With a roll of the eyes, Lovino busied himself with cleaning as he waited for his drink to be done. He scrubbed the plates with extra force when his doorbell echoed through his, nearly empty, abode. Maybe if I ignore it, they will go away he thought as he picked up a crumb covered butter-knife. A few seconds later, another chime filled the house, causing him to jump and graze the tip of his finger with his knife, drawing the tinniest amount of the crimson, metallic liquid.
One more ring followed by a muffled hello caused him to take a sharp breath. "Cazzo, io vado- I'm going!" He shouted as he stuck his faintly bleeding finger into his mouth. He jogged to the door, put on his most intimidating visage, and opened it slowly.
"Howdy neighbor-" The taller blond, whom Lovino identified as the American bastard, began, but stopped as soon as his eyes fell on the Italian. He wasn't used to seeing Lovino look so thin, pale, and malnourished. "What's wrong, dude?"
The shorter blond coughed and elbowed his partner, pulling on a kind smile. Before he could open his mouth, Lovino raised a curious eyebrow and pulled his finger from his mouth. "I was washing dishes when you two idiots came and caused me to cut my finger." He said, sticking his finger in front of him for emphasis. "What do you want?"
Noticing his husband's irritation, Alfred spoke up. "Me and Arthur are having our yearly Christmas party and we wanted you to come, dude." He pulled a nicely decorated invitation from the bag he carried over his shoulder and handed it to him.
"It's Arthur and I, you ninny." Arthur corrected before looking up at Lovino. "We hope you can make it, your brother said he was coming."
Lovino studied the card and nodded as politely as he could muster. "I'll look into going." He replied. Alfred's smile grew, as did Arthur's and they said their goodbyes. Happy that the two morons from down the street were gone, and that his coffee was finished, he threw the card onto the kitchen table as he went to retrieve his drink.
Green eyes quickly scanned the card as the Italian busied himself with the coffee.
Lovino,
We hope you can find it in your heart to join us for our yearly Christmas party. We've missed you these past few years. Hope to see you this time around!
Alfred & Arthur Jones-Kirkland.
A warm smile spread onto pink lips as he sat down opposite to Lovino's usual seat.
The Italian walked back into the room and sat in his chair, both feet kicked on top of the wooden table. Green eyes rolled at the action, but brightened upon seeing Lovino reach for the card. He skimmed the card, muttering random phrases out loud before scoffing and throwing it over his shoulder.
"As if I would go." He muttered bitterly as he took a sip of his coffee. "Why the hell would I waste my time over there when I could be here... cleaning... and preparing for work tomorrow." Another sip followed by a longing sigh. "Yup."
. . .
Antonio Fernandez Carriedo was a kind, warmhearted person, loved by all and envied by few. He was brought up by a hard working middle class family and was always one to fight for what he wanted, even his little Lovino. It took him three years to make the feisty Italian his boyfriend, another two to propose and one final year to marry. It had been a small wedding, only family and close knit friends, but it had been the happiest day of Antonio's life.
The couple lived in a peaceful bliss for a few years, until Antonio was involved in a bad car accident. He was rushed to the emergency room, a frantic Lovino was disrupted from his slumber and stuck to his husband like glue as the gurney pushed him through the hospital.
The Spaniard made it until December 25, 2012; the worst day of Lovino Carriedo's life. He couldn't help but blame himself for the ordeal, more so when Antonio revealed that he had gone out to buy Lovino one last Christmas present.
All the hard work Antonio put into making Lovino social was recalled with his last, "te amo." The Italian wouldn't let anyone comfort him for an entire year. He still cries himself to sleep, and Antonio's spirit lingers and hopes that he'll get better.
Dear Santa,
My wish is to have one more night with him,
-Antonio.
. . .
Lovino gulped and pulled on the string of his pullover hoodie. He reached a shaky hand out and knocked on the wooden door marked with 345 in golden numbers. His eyes shut tight as he heard the clicking of multiple locks met with the increase in volume of the pulsing American Christmas music.
"Lovino! You made it!" Alfred cheered as he pulled the small Italian into a hug. He awkwardly patted the blond's back, only used to that kind of contact from his younger brother. When he finished hugging him, he snaked his hand around his shoulder and cheered. "Everybody! Lovino Vargas is here!"
Even through the blasting, obnoxious American Christmas music, the silence could be felt. All eyes fell on Lovino and his blood ran cold. He despised public affection, and the way people looked at him, as if he was some animal free from his cage, made the situation more uncomfortable.
One of Antonio's closest friends, Gilbert, noticed his discomfort and stood on Alfred's coffee table, earning curse words from Arthur. "Christmas 2014!" He shouted, just barely dodging the pillow that was thrown his way. And just like that, the chatter and laughter picked up once again.
Well aware of his burning face, Lovino managed to get himself out of Alfred's grip and blended into the crowd of people nearby. His hands shook as he stuffed them deep in his jean pocket and slipped into the kitchen, which housed only a few - thankfully - unfamiliar faces. He took a deep, shaky breath and reached into the cooler on the kitchen island. He didn't care what he drank, he just knew he needed alcohol.
He downed the first shitty beer in less than a minute, and at the moment he reached for the next, a pale hand grabbed his wrist. Hazel eyes met crimson in a battle for superiority, but Lovino caved and retracted his hand, rubbing the spot where Gilbert held.
"You might want to slow down, Lovino. It's dangerous to drink so much." His tone was genuine, but that didn't stop the brunet from crossing his arms and looking away.
"Fuck off. Who are you to tell me what is or isn't too much, potato bastard."
Gilbert chuckled lightly at his insult, already used to Lovino's language. Not knowing what else to say, and also not wanting the conversation to end, the white-haired man started small talking. "I honestly did not expect you to be here."
Lovino's glare hardened, but wasn't directed toward the Prussian beside him. His hands wrung with anxiety and he huffed. "I didn't expect to be here either. I don't even know why I came." He was honest.
Gilbert bit his lip. "It's still nice to see you. By the way, it was so unawesome what Alfred did to you."
Lovino shrugged. "He's oblivious, I'll leave him to his own world. He didn't think I was coming either. No one really expected me too."
"Lies! I've been waiting to see that unruly curl of yours since last Christmas." With an evil grin, Gilbert flicked said curl, causing the Italian's face to contort in discomfort.
A thick, heavy breath caught in Lovino's throat, but he gulped it down. Without a second thought, he thumped Gilbert over the head and muttered a string of curse words before, rather rudely, asking the albino to leave his presence.
. . .
Feliciano arrived at the party not much later, and when he heard news of his brother's appearance, he pushed and shoved his way through the packed living room and into the kitchen. His brother sat up on one of the kitchen counters, his legs kicking the cabinets underneath rhythmically. Three empty beer cans resided beside Lovino and one was housed in his twitching palm and tightening grip.
"Ciao, fratello." He began, only to regret it when a half filled beer can way chucked his way. He yelped and, luckily enough, missed the threatening shot. He gulped audibly, shooting a cautious glance at his brother and frowning in the process.
Lovino pulled his knees to his chest, hugging his legs tightly as he tried to control his heavy breathing. His body shook at his failed attempts and his bottom lip tucked under his teeth to keep the tears from forming. "Go away, Feliciano." He groaned.
"No." He replied sternly. Lovino's body went ridged for a fraction of a second and Feliciano noticed. Lovino was scared. Feli took slow, counted steps toward his brother, his hand reached out ever so softly and brushed upon his shoulder, causing Lovino to jump away from the touch. "Lovino, I'm going to sit next to you, okay?"
"No, go away." I'm lying, stay close and comfort me. Make this pain go away, fratello. Ignoring his brother's verbal request, Feliciano hoisted himself up onto the counter and wrapped his arm around Lovino's shoulder.
The older Italian let out a deep breath, but nuzzled into his younger brother's shoulder, allowing the tears to flow. It didn't matter if he was in someone else's house, it didn't matter if anyone saw him in the midst of tears, hell it didn't even matter to him that he was crying. He was just so grateful to have someone who understood him right by his side during his time of need. Someone whom didn't need to be told what was going on, someone who cares, someone who, although would never replace Antonio, loves him regardless of all of his flaws.
. . .
Nothing was said during the time that Feliciano comforted Lovino, but that's because nothing needed to be said. There was a silent understanding between the two brothers, one that Lovino was thankful for having.
Once Lovino was satisfied, he asked his brother to walk him home. Despite the fact that it was a two minute walk, Feliciano agreed, instantaneously grabbing his brother's hand and dragging him through the thick mess of sweaty, overly drunk people.
The walk seemed to drag on with Feliciano babbling nonsense and Lovino dragging his feet against the snow. When they got to his front porch, Feli wrapped his arms around his older brother, squeezing him tightly. "I'm here for you, no matter what, fratello."
Lovino returned the gesture and nodded into his brother's shoulder. "Thank you."
When Feliciano was safely across the street and waving from the front door of the Jones-Kirkland residence, Lovino waved back and headed inside. He slipped out of the black jacket, throwing it in a random direction, and marched into his bathroom. He needed a shower more than anything at the moment.
His shower was quick, not only because he feared recoiling into dark thoughts, but also because there was a persistent banging on his front door. He dried himself and slipped on a pair of pajama pants that he had set out earlier that day. "I'm going, dammit!" He shouted when he was steps away from the living room. He put on his fiercest scowl and opened the door, all forms of insults stuck in his throat.
Towering over him, a bright smile filled the dark home. Lovino forgot how to think, how to speak, how to breathe. He couldn't believe it, it had to be some cruel, sick prank. "Leave." He muttered when his mental processing caught up to him. "I want you to leave and never come back! This is a cruel, sick joke and I need you to leave before I-."
Lovino didn't have time to finish his empty threat because before he knew it, the door was kicked shut and he was enveloped in one of the most controversially confusing yet comforting hugs of his life. "Shh, mi corazón, soy yo." A rough, calloused, but warmly familiar finger pressed onto his lips as a hand stroked his wet hairs.
"Go away, bastard! It's not funny, nobody's laughing! Do you know how heartbreaking it is to have someone dress as your loved one? LEAVE!" Lovino struggled to break loose, but the hands secured a place on his hips.
"Believe me, Lovi. It's me! Antonio, I promise!" To emphasize, he stuck up his ring finger, still adorned with the ring that bound their love together.
Lovino swallowed a cry and glared. His hands balled into fists and pounded roughly onto Antonio's chest. "You sick, sick bastard! Leave me alone!" At that point, Lovino could do nothing to prevent the tears from falling. His breath was shaky and uneven and his actions grew more blurred with every strike against Antonio.
"Amor mio," Antonio began as he grabbed Lovino's fists of fury in one strong grip. "I swear, it's me. I would never lie to you." Lovino shut his eyes tight when his chin was cupped in that strangely familiar calloused hand. "Open your eyes, Lovi. You'll see."
Lovino cursed every force in the universe that allowed him to peak through his left eye up into those same caring, emotion-filled green eyes he had grown to love. His breath hitched as his right eye shot open and stared unbelievingly at the man before him.
"You… You can't… You're lying, bugiardo!" He blinked a few times, trying to convince himself that it was all a lie or, better yet, a dream.
"Ay, Lovino, tú eres tan precioso." Antonio cooed, releasing the grips he held to stroke his husband's cheek.
Lovino took a careful step back, to which Antonio took two confident steps forward. "You… you died two years ago. There's no way in hell that you could be here.
Antonio chuckled, soothing Lovino's nervous antics like cough syrup would a sick child's throat. "It has nothing to do with hell, tersoro, I promise. You can say it's a Christmas miracle. It was my wish this year." To prove his point, he pulled out a neatly folded letter from his pocket and handed it to the Italian.
Lovino careful unfolded the paper, shooting nervous glances at Antonio as he did so. His eyes softened at the penmanship on the page. The same rushed, chicken scratch the Spaniard wrote in his entire life.
Knowing that his husband wasn't going to speak anytime soon, Antonio continued. "I hate seeing you the way I do every Christmas. You shouldn't tear yourself apart because I' m not here anymore, Lovino. You should go out, make friends, find someone else, do something. Don't recoil into the shell of a man you were before we met."
"But it's so hard!" He cried, his fingers tearing at his hair as he struggled to even his breaths. He had given in. "You're not here! I don't have you! Antonio Carriedo, you gave me everything and when you left it was all taken away. It's not that easy to move on! I miss you! I miss your laugh, your smile, your god-dammed stupidity! I miss that one freckle right underneath your eye, the way your hair looks when you wake up, how you dance to Spanish music when you clean! I have none of that anymore! "
Antonio's eyes darkened and he reached for Lovino's hands. When Lovino let his hair go, Antonio pulled him into a hug, a really hug, one that the Italian didn't reject. Regardless of whether or not he believed what was going on, Antonio knew it was his place to comfort his little tomato.
He tucked a stray strand of hair behind Lovino's ear and kissed his forehead gently. "I know it's difficult, mi amor. I'm not asking for you to stop loving me or let me go, I'm just asking for you to move on. Live your life."
"That's the same thing, idiota." He muttered childishly, earning a chuckle from his late-husband.
"You'll see soon enough, bobo."
"I know what that means, jerk."
"I assumed so."
A heavy silence fell between them, and Lovino filled it by tightening his grip around Antonio. "Don't leave me again, Toni." The sadness was evident in his tone and the Spaniard could do nothing but sigh.
"If I could stay, I would." He whispered honestly, returning the squeeze given to him by the Italian. "It's hard for me too."
"Antonio…" Lovino began, but then hid his blushing face in Antonio's chest. "Never mind."
Antonio smirked. "No what is it? You can't just say never mind to someone you have limited time with! You may delay, but time will not – Benjamin franklin."
"Stupido." Lovino murmured before slowly looking up at Antonio. "I just… I wanted to tell you that I love you. I never told you enough and I…"
Sensing his husband's sadness, Antonio shook his head and tugged on Lovino's chin. "Don't worry, I speak Lovino. I understood you every time." Antonio looked into Lovino's eyes, silently begging for permission for one last kiss.
Lovino waste no time and wrapped his arms around Antonio's neck, pulling the tall man down to his height, and locking their lips in a kiss of passion, longing, understanding, and most of all lament. Passion and longing for two long years of solitude. Understanding that Antonio's time was limited, whether this be real life or a dream, and he hoped like hell it wasn't a dream. Lament, for everything he never had the chance to do or say.
Not wanting the kiss to end, but in desperate need of oxygen, Lovino pulled away, smiling bashfully at the floor with pathetic attempts to catch his breath. Antonio chuckled one last time as he ruffled Lovino's hair. "Yo te extrañaré, mi hermoso Lovino."
Knowing that his time was coming to an end, Lovino gave him one last peck. "I'll miss you too, Antonio."
End
Translations:
Cazzo, io vado- Fuck, I'm going! (Ita.)
Mi corazón, soy yo.- My heart, It's me (Sp.)
Amor mio- My love (Sp.)
Bugiardo- Liar (Ita.)
Ay, Lovino, tú eres tan precioso- Oh, Lovino, you are so precious (Sp.)
Tersoro- Treasure (Sp.)
Bobo- Fool (in a caring way) (Sp.)
Yo te extrañaré, mi hermoso Lovino- Ill miss you, my handsome Lovino. (Sp.)