A/N: Hi! This is the oneshot I gave to my 60th reviewer, scarletnight72! Hope you like and thank you do much for reviewing! Sorry for any mistakes.
Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia
The rather large apartment that was nestled comfortably in between two run down buildings in Madrid, Spain, was dead silent, save for the continuous ticking of a clock and the even breathing of the lone occupant, who was currently sitting on the couch.
Dark amber hair, deep golden eyes, permanent scowl. The olive colored face was tilted towards the door, the soft pink lips tugged downwards. The round cheeks-too round and childish for a normal 25 year old man, but they seemed to fit him-were puffed out in obvious annoyance.
This was Lovino Vargas. And he was currently waiting for none other than his roommate and long time secret crush (as childish as that sounds), Antonio Fernandez Carriedo.
That bastard.
He had arrived home from work, still smelling like the spices he used in the kitchen all day at work and with a huge smile on his face. The smile itself was enough to make Lovino's insides melt, but he kept up a cool face on the outside. Like always. He had announced to a bored looking Lovino, who was lounging on the dark red couch with a tomato in hand, that Francis and Gilbert had invited him out drinking...
Again.
Lovino hated it when he drank. He always came home drunk and reeking of alcohol, slurring to Lovino about the girl with 'the most amazing eyes you have ever seen~' or 'dance moves that made you practically melt in your seat, Lovi, I swear!'.
Antonio never remembered what happened on those nights when he came home. Lovino would lead him upstairs and help him change. He would nod and let out small hums in response to his ramblings before gently placing the oblivious Spaniard in bed. He would make sure he had a glass of water and two aspirin on his bedside table for when he woke up. These were the only times in which Lovino ever acted openly caring towards Antonio.
When Antonio was asleep, or just plain passed out from the amount he drank, in his bed, sometimes Lovino would just stand and stare at him, tears running down his face before leaving to cry on his own, curled up on his bed with a pillow pressed to his mouth to muffle the sounds, even though Antonio would never wake up.
You see, Lovino has another problem besides the fact that he loves his roommate.
He was depressed.
And every time, every god damn time, Antonio waltzed in the door blabbering about some fantastic girl he met at the bar, Lovino would slowly sink further into his pathetic state of permanent sadness and self loathing.
After all, what could Antonio ever like about Lovino?
He swore too much. He always scowled. He blushed easily and, in what Lovino thought, was a completely unattractive way. He never smiled. He insulted Antonio on a daily basis. He was lazy and was horrible at chores. He had no talent what so ever.
He was...Lovino.
But Antonio never seemed to mind. He always laughed and brushed off his insults. He just beamed at Lovino whenever he scowled in response to a question or statement, and cooed about 'how cute~!' he was whenever he blushed.
And he always, always called whenever he was out drinking. Just to tell him what time he was getting home or if he was staying over at that damned potato's house or the fuckface French's one. Sometimes he called to just chat or talk or tell him excitedly about something amazing he found.
But now, according to the constantly ticking clock, it was 2:04...2:05, and Antonio hadn't even sent so much of a text. Lovino would know, he had his phone perched on the mahogany coffe table that was across from the couch, and it hadn't emitted a sound all night.
And as 2:05 melted into 2:35, then 3:00, then 3:10, the Italian couldn't help but feel a sick feeling of nervousness crawl it's way into his stomach and settle down there, clawing at his insides and making him squirm uncomfortably.
Now, he wasn't worried about Antonio's well being, and he means that in a truthful way. Antonio could certainly take care of himself. Not that he was overly muscular or bulky-oh no, he was just fit as all hell. He was lean and strong, with a lithe body structure. Perfect and stunning to practaclly anyone, especially to Lovino.
And even if, for some odd, stupid reason, Antonio wasn't able to take care of his sorry ass, then those two damn so called friends of his could always swoop down to save the fucking day.
Well, maybe not Francis. He cares too damn much about his hair to be healthy.
No, that horrible, disgusting feeling of nervousness that was slowly suffocating him wasn't caused by the fact that Lovino was worried about Antonio's current state of health. It was because he was afraid that Antonio, being that stupid bastard that he is, would suddenly have an epiphany about Lovino.
He would suddenly realize that the Italian he roomed with was a pathetic, sorry excuse for a human being and would beg one of his damn freinds to plead let him stay the night, he just couldn't stand being with Lovino any longer!
He would come home later, pack up his stuff, and shoot Lovino a hate filled glare before leaving a broken shell of a person behind without a second glance.
Lovino was nervous because he was afraid that Antonio would come home hating him.
Oh sure, he could come home with a girl. And if he did Lovino would retreat to his bedroom and take out those oh so shiny blades that were stashed away and press them to his healing wrists, watching the blood run down as he listened to the man he loved love someone else.
But as long as Antonio was still here, still with him, he would be fine.
Because Lovino just needed to be around him, to see him, hear him, be there with him, to be happy. Which was painfully ironic, considering he was depressed. And he knew it couldn't be healthy. But damn...the sight of those emerald eyes when the tan angel was happy or the way those lips curled upwards into the earth's biggest grin, made Lovino feel like everything in the world was just right.
Even if it only lasted for a moment. But now...there was no word from the Spaniard, and Lovino, curled up on the couch and hugging a pillow, couldn't shake the cold feeling of dread from his insides.
That is, until the lock on the door clicked and swung open, revealing a curly head of hair and two deep green eyes.
Antonio.
Lovino sprang up from his position on the couch, accidentally knocking his phone from the table to the ground with a loud clatter. The sound caused the tan man to turn from placing his coat on the hanger to see Lovino.
"Lovi?" The man paused to let out a yawn and rub his eyes before speaking again. "What are you doin still awake?" He questioned, his low and comforting voice traveling easily across the room. Lovino narrowed his golden eyes, gritting his teeth. The nervousness had dissolved when his roommate had appeared and was replaced with anger, white hot and burning his insides.
"What am I doing awake? What the hell are you doing awake?!" He snapped at the curly haired man who was slipping off his shoes at the door. He turned towards Lovino and frowned, the expression looking alien on his usual smiling face.
"Lovi...I told you I was going out drinking. The bar turned out to be a bust so me, Fran, and Gil just spent the night at the park," he said easily, shrugging a little.
"The park? The god damned park?! Dammit, Antonio! Why didn't you fucking call or text me or...or anything!" Lovino shouted, facing Antonio angrily. The latter's frown only grew.
"Why would I have to, Lovino? You don't have to know where I am all the time," he pointed out coldly, annoyance bubbling up. He wasn't in the mood, he had been tripped far too many times at the park by a snickering Fran and Gil, almost got molested at the bar, and was tired as all hell. The last thing he wanted to deal with was his pissed off Italian roommate.
"Oh, don't give me that bullcrap! Don't you think I would want to fucking know where the hell you were or what the fuck you were doing?! I live with you, dammit!" He seethed, the anger intensifying at Antonio's answer.
"Well, you never seem to act like you care, Lovino!" Antonio shouted back, running a hand through his chocolate colored locks in annoyance and anger. "I don't ever require you to tell me where you go when your out!"
"That's because you don't fucking care, you bastard!"
"Oh come on, Lovino, you know I do, but you just reject any efforts I give at caring for you!"
"That's a fucking lie!"
"Why do you always act like this? Why can't you accept anyone's help, dammit?"
"Why should I?! No one ever tries to help me anyways! Why should they?"
"Because maybe they really do care for you-"
"If anyone cared for me, why the hell would I be so god damned depressed?!"
Silence yet again took over the apartment, of course minus the usual sounds. The ticking of the clock went on, the panting of the two red faces men eventually evened out. Antonio's face, twisted into an angry frown, melted into one of confusion and shock. Lovino's turned into one of pure horror, his formerly flushed cheeks paling.
"Lovino...?"
The Italian abruptly tuned to dash to his room, but Antonio was quicker and in seconds pulled the smaller man into his arms, pinning him to his chest and making him unable to run. Lovino twisted in an attempt to escape, shouting.
"L-let me go! Dammit, you stupid bastard! Let me go!" He repeated over and over until his energy was sapped, his voice hoarse as he fell limp against Antonio's firm chest, tears dripping down his cheeks.
"D-dammit...let me go..."
Antonio waited until he was calm before leading him to the couch, sitting down. He made as if to pull Lovino next to him, but on second thought pulled the crying man into his lap instead.
"Shhh... Shhh, it's ok Lovi..." He murmured, rocking him back and forth as he attempted to sooth him.
After a few minutes, Lovino pulled away and wiped his eyes, forcing a watery laugh. Antonio couldn't help but wince at the sound and all the hidden emotions packed into it. "It's ok? It's ok?! D-do I look ok to you?! I'm pathetic," he stated, looking down and refusing to meet Antonio's eyes. The Spaniard frowned at this.
"Lovino, don't say that..."
"It's true though! Look at me! Nobody loves me, not even Feli does! I can tell! He's always making up excuses as to why he can't hang out with me and I know Ludwig hates my guts too...hell, it's painfully obvious my nonno never loved me when he was alive... Your stupid friends think I'm a joke and you...you..." Lovino paused to wipe away his tears.
"Y-you hate me too! And you're so god damn perfect! W-why do I have to love you when you'll n-never love me back...?!" He sobbed, trying to pull away from the Spaniard, who was currently frozen in place on the couch.
Lovino... Lovino loved him?
Really...?
Suddenly a huge grin whose brightness could rival the suns appeared on his face and he enveloped Lovino in a new hug. "Lovi! You love me!" He sang out cheerfully. He couldn't believe it! His little Italian roommate that Antonio had been trying to woo for the last three years already loved him! This was amazing!
...well, except for the fact that he was bawling his eyes out into Antonio's shirt. "O-of course I do you stupid bastard...! B-but you don't...you don't love me back...I'm sorry..."
Antonio's eyes widened. "No no no no! Lovi, wait! That's not true!" He cried quickly. Lovino tensed in his arms.
"C-cosa...?" he asked timidly.
"That's not true! Lovino Vargas, I love you!" Antonio stated firmly, pulling Lovino back from his chest so he could look into those beautiful golden eyes.
"I love you and I always will," he said, not breaking eye contact. "And Lovino, I will give everything I have to help you get over your depression."
Lovino's eyes widened a little.
"Starting with this."
And the Italian barely had time to think before Antonio's warm lips were against his own and all he could think about was how unbelievably happy and amazing and wonderful he felt. Before he knew it, he was kissing back with just as much passion and love as the older man, his eyes slipping closed as they continued the kiss.
5 years later...
The rather large house nestled comfortably in between two tomato feilds in Madrid, Spain, was dead silent, save for the continuous ticking of the clock and the even breathing of the two occupants of the house.
A dark, tan body twisted out on the bed, his arms thrown around the smaller, slender body next to him. Emerald eyes cracked open sleepily and the Spaniard looked down at the man he was sleeping next to.
His love. His tomato. His life. His happiness.
His husband.
Two golden orbs fluttered open and Lovino Vargas let out a yawn, rubbing his eyes . A golden wedding band glinted in the morning sun.
"Buenos días, mi amor," Antonio Fernandez Carriedo murmured into his ear, and Lovino turned to look at him, a small smile adorning his face.
"Ciao, Toni..." he mumbled sleepily, causing Antonio to laugh.
"Te amo, Lovinito," he said, kissing his soft lips. Lovino smiled wider and sighed happily.
"Ti amo, Toni."