And enter... Spamano!
The bar was full that evening. Behind the counter, the owner poured out frothing pints of beer, which were carried to tables by flirtatious, buxom barmaids or slid along the smooth oak to men already tipsy, if not drunk. In the corner, music blared from a portable stereo, adding another layer of confusion to the drunken laughter and rabble that built steadily in the dim, old room. A perforated dartboard hung lopsidedly on the wall, a pack of bald, "I'm just big-boned, right?" men augmenting the holes in its surface. Alcohol and sweat, along with a huge dose of testosterone, were in the dense, heated air and, of course, the 'big men' would be out for a fight. Not a place that Lovino Vargas really wanted to be.
Yet here he was, waiting for someone to show up. Who had dark, chocolate brown hair, piercing verdant eyes and a dazzling smile. Who had been his boyfriend for five years, nine months and two days (not that he'd counted at all). And who was supposed to have been here twenty minutes ago.
With a sigh, golden eyes flicked down to a watch face, then up at the low door. Keeping a carefully nonchalant look on his face, the Italian folded his arms and leant against the cold flint wall.
"Che…where are you, bastardo?" The softly muttered statement could not have been angrier, yet, for the words and tone, more concerned. For any number of things could have gone wrong. He could have crashed on the way here. He could have been mugged. He could even have been attacked! And raped or something! The idiot wouldn't think twice about going with someone who said they needed help with something…then anything could happen! Help…yeah, to get rid of their fucking boners! Damn bastards! Of course, he could just have not shown…up…
"LOVIIIIII!"
The dark-haired man's neck snapped upright, spotting through the crowd a tall Spaniard waving to him. A smirk appearing on his face despite himself, the Italian stormed across, still fighting to keep at least the rest of his visage in a scowl. He showed up! Grazie, Dio.
"About fucking time, bastard! Where the hell have you been?"
"Ah! I went to Francis' house to get something and then there was loads of traffic and then the lights were against me and I'm really sooooorrrrryyyyyy!" Cue puppy dog eyes. Lovino looked away to hide the small smile that was, dammit, putting up a very good fight to stay on his face.
"Cazzo…don't ever do it again!" The taller man instantly sprouted another huge smile.
"I won't, I promise! Let's go get a drink!" And with that, Lovino was practically dragged over to the bar.
~Le timeskip~
It was now late into the velvety night and Lovino had had, what he would never really admit to his love, a brilliant time. The atmosphere, coupled with the drinks, had placed a pleasant, drowsy veil on his mind and eyes and he felt the most content that he had in a long, long while. A nudge on his arm drew his attention to who must surely be the most handsome, funniest, nicest man in the world. He was so lucky. With this realisation, he gazed into emerald eyes and smiled.
The other man gasped. His little tomato had finally smiled, a genuine smile, to him. The small box nudged his leg and a feeling of utter happiness flooded through him. This was obviously the right thing to do. Why had he not done this sooner? Remember Francis' tips…It'll go fine!
"Come on, mi tomate! It's getting late!" The smaller man groaned and rested his head on the bar counter.
"Can't we stay…just a bit longer?"
"No, your brother will worry. Lo siento."
"Ugh…fine…" Lovino stood and shrugged his coat on, taking a step backwards.
"Oi! You little shit!" The heavily-built man that the Italian had inadvertently jogged turned threateningly to face him.
"I didn't mean to…" keeping his hands by his sides, Lovino backed away a step, eyebrows still drawn together slightly.
"It doesn't matter if you meant to or not, you did!" Following him, the man drew back a meaty fist. Closing his eyes, Lovino turned his head and braced himself for the impact-
Thunk.
Opening one eye slightly, the smaller man furrowed his brow in confusion. He had heard the hit, but had felt no pain…
"Gngh…Ah…merda…" Gasping, Lovino looked down at the floor as his boyfriend started to push himself groggily up, blood oozing from a cut that the punch had opened in his cheek.
"Antonio!" Crouching down, Lovino knelt beside the Spaniard, sliding an arm around his shoulders. "Are you alright?"
"Hey, guys, look at the little faggot! Comforting his boyfriend!" The man called to his friends. Unusually, Lovino ignored them, instead trying to help Antonio to stand so that they could get away. Green eyes blinked blearily open, before focussing on a point behind the Italian.
After that, it was all a bit of a blur for Lovino. One moment, his lover's eyes had opened, the next there was a rush of movement, he was a metre away and Antonio was curled up in a ball on the floor in a circle of strong, drunk, homophobic men. Mierda. The circle closed.
For maybe five seconds, nothing happened. Then, yelps started to emerge from the centre, accompanied by laughter and cheers.
"ANTONIOOO!" Lovino charged towards the men, trying to force a way in to help, but couldn't. Franticly, he tugged at arms, clothes, anything, biting and clawing to create an opening. Just beyond his reach, Antonio was struggling, failing to stand, block, punch, protect or defend himself. Before Lovino's desperate eyes, he got weaker and weaker, eventually reaching the point where all movement ceased from him entirely, leaving him a bloodied lump on the floor.
Yet still they continued kicking and punching, kicking, punching, kicking… Although he didn't know it, Lovino was screaming by now, begging them to stop… Blood trickled down his boyfriend's face and arms, motionless on the ground…
"EVERYONE STOP!"
A man dressed in a police uniform stood in the door, pointing a gun straight at them. The men froze, allowing Lovino to rush to his lover's side. Another policeman with sandy blond hair pushed past the first, saying something that Lovino couldn't hear through the rushing in his ears. The only thing that seemed real was the body in front of him, the person that he loved, the only one who made his lonely life worth living.
"Hey."
Lovino raised teary eyes to the cerulean ones of the first police officer.
"My name's Alfred. Could we get your friend to the ambulance? It's just outside."
Dumbly, the Italian nodded and watched as the prone body was lifted onto a stretcher, holding the other's hand as he was rushed to the vehicle. The doors closed and the sirens started, hurrying them both closer to safety, them both closer to life.
Antonio's eyelids fluttered, prompting the other to gasp and shuffle closer to him.
"Lovi…are you…alright?"
"No! I mean, those bastardi didn't touch me, but they hurt you!"
"That's…bueno…" A weak smile appeared on the Spaniard's face, before he started to cough.
"Toni? Toni! Stop coughing, dammit!" But the other man continued, droplets of blood starting to appear on his lips. A dull horror settled in Lovino's chest, not allaying even when the brief fit passed.
"Heh…"
"W-what?"
"That's the…first time…you volun…tarily called me…Toni…"
Lovino shook his head, worry nearly overcoming him. He couldn't be…dying, could he? But he-
"Lovi…kiss me… per favor?"
"Promise me you won't die and leave me alone first!" Antonio looked up at those eyes that he loved more than anything else in the world, filled with worry and determination, and smiled.
"I promise."
Lovino leant forwards and their lips made contact; briefly and sweetly, like their first. But now it was tainted with the metallic taste of Antonio's blood. The other's lips curved into a smile against his and he felt the words "Te amo, mi tomate" being formed. Suddenly, Lovino knew something was wrong.
Pulling back, he stared at his lover's smiling face, Which kept on smiling, even though the eyes above it were now glassy and clouded. His chest did not move, nor his skin retain the same vibrance that it did when he was…alive.
"ANTONIO! ANTONIO, YOU BASTARD, WAKE UP! PER FAVORE! Per favore…" The Italian's face crumpled and salty, hot tears streamed down his face. Sitting next to the empty shell of his only love, shoulders shaking and head bowed in the ambulance that could now not do anything to help, Lovino cried.
At the hospital, Lovino sat alone in a corner, dull eyes staring at the wall. Vaguely registering a person approach him, he glanced up to see the first policeman, Alfred, wasn't it, sitting down beside him.
"Uh…hey."
Lovino glared at him. Was this guy so imbecilic that he couldn't tell that he wanted to be left alone? The taller man scratched the back of his neck awkwardly.
"Look, umm…I'm really sorry and…erm…we found this in his pocket. Do you happen to know who Lovino Vargas is?"
"…I'm Lovino…" The Italian would have probably said more, but his voice cracked on the last syllable and he decided to stay quiet.
"Oh!" A huge smile was flashed his way, not unlike the ones Antonio wore- used to wear when he agreed to do something, when they kissed…all the time. "Then this is yours! I'll see you soon, dude!"
He pressed a small box into Lovino's hand then left, followed by the other policeman who seemed to be lecturing him. Overcome by curiosity, the brunet opened the bit of paper that was attached to the lid.
Hey Lovi! J
Look, I was planning to do this in person, but…you know what an idiot I am sometimes. So!
Lovi, you are the most handsome, funniest, kindest (to me, at least!), sweetest person I have ever known and I love you more than my whole life. Would you consider being my husband/partner?
Eagerly awaiting your response,
Antonio Fernandez Carriedo.
Flipping over the lid, a ring presented itself to the man's shocked eyes. O Dio…Once again, the tears welled up. You bastardo, Antonio. Ti amo e si, ma ora? Pomodoro bastardo…mio pomodoro bastardo…
Translations:
O Dio... : Oh God...
Ti amo e si, ma ora? Pomodoro bastardo... mio pomodoro bastardo... : I love you and yes, but now? Tomato bastard... my tomato bastard...