Blood Tears, a Spamano fan fiction
Romano Vargas was a cutter. He did it to prove to himself he was real, a human being that could feel pain like everyone else around him. He would've gotten away with it forever, until he finally cut himself too deep or bled to his relieving death that was, until Antonio barged into the Italian's life and messed it all up.
Romano had known Antonio for two years when he had overheard a short conversation of the Spaniard's two friends, Gilbert and Francis. 'Tonio is just using him' one said. The other nodded 'When he's done I'm worried about what Romano will do. He thinks their friendship is real' Romano had run away then, unable to hold back his flowing tears.
He was being used. He had finally trusted someone and opened his heart and he was being used! Of course it made sense now. Why else would an amazing actor with good looks, a laid back attitude and half the student body in love with him even want to be seen with ugly, useless Romano unless he was using him. He hadn't thought that Antonio was the type for that. He was wrong. Antonio was a bastard.
He pulled open his kitchen drawer and messed around with the knives until he found his favorite and yanked it out quickly running the cool blade over a free patch of skin near his wrist. He let out a content sigh as the pain ran up his arm. He sliced his arm a few more times before feeling lightheaded. This was his favorite moment, he felt so peaceful, the numb throbbing in his wrist distracting him from the pain of Antonio using him. He ran the knife under cold water before doing the same with his wrist. The wounds stung but Romano wasn't stupid. Ironically he didn't want his arm amputated because he got an infection.
He fell asleep that night with thoughts of Antonio in his head.
It was Saturday, he was supposed to meet up with Antonio today. Notice the supposed to. The Spanish bastard had cancelled on him last minute 'Something more important came up sorry!' he'd explained. Romano held back his tears. There was no doubt about it in his mind, Antonio didn't love Romano the way Romano loved him. He was being used just like his idiot friends had said.
He felt his knees give out from under him and he collapsed to the floor, shaking as tears ran down his cheeks. The same ones that frequently blushed red when Antonio was around and blushed when Antonio called him 'mi tomate' Spanish Bastard.
Romano had never cut the day after he already had, it wasn't healthy. Ironic huh, being concerned about health. Oh well, to be honest the only reason he'd even tried for the past few years was to impress Antonio. He had no reason to even breathe if Antonio left him. He didn't bother to slice clear patches; he added new scars and reopened the old. He didn't stop when he felt light headed and only chuckled darkly at the pain he felt. It made him feel like he was worth something. Blood stained his clothes and trickled to his floor, pooling around him. He didn't stop until everything went black.
His name being called woke him up. His arm throbbed and his head felt like he had a bad hangover. He was engulfed in two warm and muscular arms. He knew that voice, it was Antonio. The Spanish man was crying why. He couldn't find his voice and only stared on, trying to focus his blurry vision as he did so, the whole time was spent by Antonio blubbering something about 'needing him'. Romano choked back his sobs and shakily told him about what his friends had said. The Spanish man paused.
Suddenly a pair of lips where on Romano's but as soon as he reacted they were gone. "I'll never use you Mi tomate, please never hurt yourself again because I'll never forgive myself if you get hurt, Te amo Roma."
Romano looked at his arm, did he seriously hear that? One thing was for sure, he would never cut again "I love you too, Spanish bastard" and he pulled Antonio's face down to clash their lips together again