Here they were, in a high school bathroom. Antonio had his eyes locked on the Italian. Sitting in the corner of the room, tears flooded from Lovino's eyes.
"Lovi." the Spanish man whispered.
"I...told you...not to...call me that...bastardo." Lovino said between sobs.
Antonio kneeled down, holding on the Lovino's muscular shoulders. "Stop."
Lovino immediately ripped away Antonio's hands. "Do...do you know what you do to me?" he rolled up his sleeve, and the Spaniard's eyes widened.
There were cuts, crossing and going from Lovino's wrists to his elbow. The cuts looked deep and messy, as if the Italian was intending to shed blood.
Antonio's mouth formed an 'o' and his eyes welled with tears. He delicately touched the scarred skin, making the Italian flinch. "I...do this to you?"
"Ack, chigi..." Lovino grunted, "as if you cared. Stop playing this sympathy game." he sniffed, his beautiful eyes clouded with despair and loneliness.
Antonio's lip quivered. "I'm...not playing...I do care."
"Prove it, damn it." Lovino whispered, a single tear falling from his eye.
Antonio leaned in and kissed Lovino's soft lips passionately. They stayed like that for a few seconds, kissing, until Lovino broke the kiss.
"T-ti amo, Espanga."
A small smile played on Antonio's lips. "Te amo, Lovi~."
The Italian broke out in tears, and pulled Antonio in to a tight, warm hug.
"Shh..." Antonio murmured, his warm breath tickling Lovino's ear. "I am right here, mi poco de tomate."
All Lovino could do was nod.
This moment was simply perfect.
And now, for the first time in his life, Lovino felt that everything would finally be okay.