This is a based off of P!nk's song, Please Don't Leave Me. There are no song lyrics in this. There should be like one or two more chapters. I tried really hard, and I hope you like it.
Warning: Scary Spain.
Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters or Hetalia, if I did, there would be a lot more canon shippings.
Antonio walked into the kitchen towards the man cutting tomatoes. He leaned over his boyfriend's shoulder and turned the Italian's head to pull him into a kiss, then proceeded to kiss down his neck.
"Nhh, stop it bastard." Antonio halted his motions immediately and lifted his head to get a good view of the other man.
"Oh come on, Lovi. The tomatoes can wait," the Spaniard cooed.
"Don't call me that," the brunette complained. "And it's not the tomatoes. I just want you to stop kissing me," Lovino explained, going back to chopping up the red fruits.
"Why?" The older man asked, squinting his eyes and taking a step back.
"Why? I don't need a fucking reason! I simply don't want you to kiss me!" screamed the Italian. Antonio calmly walked over to the living room and sat down on the couch across from the television, placing his hands on his face before running them through his hair. He took a deep breath and stared at his boyfriend briefly.
"Let me ask you something, do you like me?"
"What do you mean?" the Italian inquired haphazardly, not really listening to the question, but focusing on the task at hand, cutting tomatoes.
"Do you even like me?" the Spaniard asked louder, stressing the pronouns.
"What? Where did that even come from?" the brunette inquired, putting down the large knife and turning to face his lover.
"Where did that even come from?" Antonio laughed silently to himself.
It's amazing how you can hurt me so much and not even realized it. I thought I was supposed to be the oblivious one…
"Every time I kiss you I have to deal with some sort of opposition. I want to feel like you like me, but do you? You like me, don't you?" the Spaniard asked with real pain in his eyes and words.
"What the Hell kind of question is that?"
"One that you apparently still can't answer!" The elder man said, anger beginning to well up inside him.
"I-I'm not a girl. I don't need to fucking preach to you about every feeling I ever have!"
"What feelings? Hmm? The only emotions you ever show are anger."
"Excuse me?"
"You tell me to fuck off as if it were hello! I think you've made your feelings pretty clear! You know you've never said you that love me? NOT ONCE SINCE WE'VE BEEN TOGETHER!" Antonio yelled for probably the first time in his life. The Italian froze momentarily. He'd never actually heard Antonio yell before. He was usually so calm and easygoing.
"You say it enough for the both of us. It doesn't even matter," Lovino said in an effort to change the topic.
"It doesn't matter," Antonio mumbled quietly to himself. "I'm glad that my feelings don't matter!"
"That's what I meant! You're acting like a fucking girl! Melodramatic much?"
Antonio stomped into their room, took a duffle bag out of the closet, and tossed it onto the bed. "Melodramatic?" He thought aloud. He yanked the drawers open so hard that they came out of the commode. He dumped the clothing into the bag, and then threw each empty tray wall. "Melodramatic?" he said, in between the sound of wood colliding with the wall and smashing into the floor. "That's what you call it?!" the Spaniard hollered, his anger building exponentially. He left the bedroom with the bag strapped on his left shoulder.
"What's the bag for?" Lovino asked, trying to change the topic.
"I'm leaving. That is, unless you can give me a reason to stay." The Spaniard put down the bag and stared at the man in the doorway. Lovino stared blankly back at him. Antonio sighed. "That's what I thought. I don't know why I thought you could ever change," the latter chuckled to himself solemnly. "I wonder how Gilbert will react when he finds out he was right."
"Go ahead. Leave you bastard. I don't fucking need you."
"Amazing. We've been together, what? Fourteen years? You still think I'm replaceable."
"That's because you are! Everyone can be replaced! Everyone's going to leave sooner or later."
"Maybe they wouldn't leave if you didn't push them away! But no, you could never do that. That would involve you accepting that you have feelings for other people."
"I don't care about other people! I don't give a shit about anyone. Not you, not anyone!"
Antonio walked over to a table filled with pictures filled with them, Lovino and Antonio, happy. At least that's what the photo would've deceived any other person into believing and for the longest of times, it fooled Antonio too. He picked up the picture of them at prom. "I remember when I thought I could change you." He tightened his grip and broke the frame, tiny pieces of glass escaped from his fist. He took another picture into his hand as Lovino watched, too shocked to move. It was a picture of them at Francis and Arthur's wedding. "Everyone changes with time, but you." The frame exploded in the Spaniards hands. "Everyone moves on, but you." He lifted the picture of them in Spain.
"Don't!" Lovino cried, coming back to his senses.
"Why?! Why do you fucking care what happens to the pictures? You didn't even want to go to Spain, remember? You didn't give a damn about meeting my fucking family!" The photograph was hurled at the ground and glass erupted from the frame. Antonio looked at the last item on the small, circular table, Lovino saw it too. The Spaniard glared at the object. The glass tomato. The memories of that day washed over their minds as they stared at the item.
. . . .
"Can we go out to dinner tonight?"
"Why? We can eat in the dorm," stated fifteen year-old Lovino.
"I want to do something special tonight."
"Fine," the Italian agreed, however not before rolling his eyes. "But if you try anything funny, I'll make sure you regret it."
"Great!" Antonio cheered, pulling Lovino into a hug.
"Get the fuck off me! You know how I feel about PDA!"
"PDA? Those little electronic planner thingies?"
"Public Display of Affection, you idiota!"
"Sorry, I was just too happy, I couldn't help it," the Spaniard said shyly, head down, kicking the dirt.
That night, Antonio got them reservations at an Italian restaurant that Lovino had wanted to go to for the longest time. How Antonio had ever figured that out, he never knew. Dinner tasted wonderful, not that the two spent much time caring about the flavor. They were distracted by their laughing as they recounted what happened to them that day.
That was the day a full tomato was finally removed from the garden the two had started together at the beginning of the school year.
That was the day, their math teacher, Mrs. Hochiki, slipped on a banana, while explaining that tripping on a banana in real life was so unlikely it could be considered an impossibility.
That was the day, for the first time, Lovino didn't call him a tomato bastard.
That was the day, Antonio had to tell him how he really felt.
Antonio reached across the table and took Lovino's hand. The Italian didn't even protest, too busy going on about how in Chemistry, his equation wouldn't balance out and how the teacher put up the wrong subscript on the board.
"Who the fuck could've have gotten that? The whole time he was staring at the class like we were idiots for not getting realizing the mistake immediately. I'm sorry I didn't know the chemical formula for vinegar by heart, but who gives a fuck? Right?"
Antonio smiled at his lover.
"What?" Lovino asked, blushing under the Spaniard's gaze.
"Today, I went to the store, and I found this." He then placed a glass tomato on the table. "I couldn't help but buy it for you. I know how much you love tomatoes."
"Wow, this is actually not a terrible gift, but why?" the Italian asked examining the gift.
"Just because, I guess. I knew I wanted to give you something, the first time... the first time I told you that..."
"That what?" Lovino asked, looking into Antonio's eyes.
"I love you," he smiled. "I-I know you probably aren't ready to say it back, but I just had to tell you. I'm sorry."
"It's... It's okay. I-I actually... I-"
"Check sir," the waiter interrupted. Antonio placed the appropriate amount of money, plus a tip, in the black folder.
"Come on," the Spaniard said, ushering the brunette to follow him out.
They rode home on Lovino's motorcycle; it was a silent trip. Neither of them said a word.
While Antonio was getting ready for bed, the Italian moved the tomato around in his hands, inspecting it.
"I think I love you too," he whispered, not audible to anyone but himself.
"Did you say something?"
"Nothing, let's go to sleep... and thanks for the tomato." Lovino placed it on his nightstand as he walked to the bathroom to brush his teeth.
. . . .
Antonio grabbed the tomato, and its memories pierced his brain like a dagger. The happiness he used to feel, was replaced with anger and his grip tightened.
"Don't even think about it!" Lovino yelled, leaving the kitchen, wiping his hands on his apron.
"This," Antonio began turning towards the Italian, who stopped walking once eye contact was made. "This was the biggest mistake!" The tomato went hurling into the kitchen wall.
"NOOO!" Lovino screamed fruitlessly. Antonio walked over the shards of broken glass to the kitchen where the last tomato had yet to be cut.
"Why?" Antonio laughed hysterically. "Why didn't I see it before?" He picked up the knife used to cut the other, already sliced, vegetables. "You care more about your fucking tomatoes!" he yelled as he stabbed the remaining tomato so violently that not only did its red juices fly everywhere, but the knife was inserted through the cutting board, into the counter itself. "Than me!"
"Calm down Antonio. You-you're scaring me," Lovino said shakily, taking a few step back.
"How?" he asked quietly. "How can I calm down," he began, storming over to the same table he just left a moment ago gripping it tightly, a tear silently falling running down his face. "When I've wasted fourteen fucking years of my life waiting for you!" Antonio chucked the table at the wall near the Italian's head.
The brunette recoiled a bit as he felt the vibration of the table being destroyed, but then the Spaniard's words hit him. "Wasted?" the Italian questioned. "WASTED?" He hollered at the top of his lungs. "Then by all means, leave!" He hollered not thinking about the consequences. "I'd hate to waste any more of your time. So get out!" He screamed, his vision blurred due to tears. "Get out! Get the fuck out! I never want to see you again!" Lovino ran into the guest room, locked the door, sunk to the floor hugging his knees, and began to cry.
Do I really do that? It's only because I don't want to get hurt... It doesn't matter. He'll come back. He always comes back. He's probably not even going to leave.
Lovino fell asleep soon after running out of tears.
After a couple of hours, the Italian left the room. The entire house was strangely quiet. His heart broke a little when he saw that Antonio and most of his belongings were gone. The brunette had never noticed how big the house was, how much empty space there is. The thought made him sad.
Don't worry, he'll come back. He always comes back. Stop acting like a girl.
Eventually, two months had gone by and not a word was to be heard from Antonio. Lovino walked towards the kitchen checking the oven time: 9:00 a.m. He almost called out for the Spaniard to start making him coffee before painfully remembering what had happened.
He's been gone before. He'll come back.
Lovino reassured himself, trying to sound as certain as possible. He couldn't help but think of all the good times they had.
. . . .
It was winter and they'd decided to spend it together in Spain. They had found a peaceful park that was encompassed by snow. Antonio had just bought two large hot chocolates for them to drink. Lovino was holding the sheets that the Spaniard had brought for their so called picnic. While laying them out on the floor, the Italian barely spoke; the sight of his own breath disturbed him.
We must look so weird, just sitting in the middle of the snow and snuggling under a large blanket while having warm drinks outside.
The Italian just watched as the older man took sips of his beverage, grinning and re-nesting his head on Lovino's afterwards. The brunette just loved to watch him smile, although he'd never admit to it. The Spanish man's smile was enough to cheer him up from even his worst of days; something about it warmed him straight down to his core. Of course, since he was with Antonio, this wordless comfort couldn't last forever; no matter how romantic or passionate the latter could be. While cuddling into the Italian the other must have forgotten what he was doing because his drink slipped right out of his hands and into Lovino's lap.
"What the fuck bastard?" the drink-drenched man yelled shooting up in pain from the searing heat emitting from the hot chocolate. "You couldn't go a fucking minute without fucking everything up?"
"I'm sorry Lovi. You can have my pants if you want."
"So then what? You walk around the street in your underwear and die of hypothermia? Is that what you want you mofo? No, keep your fucking pants; you'll just have to make it up to
me later."
"Okay Lovi," the elder sang happily.
It's going to be quite the challenge to think of something for him to make it up with... He spoils me like I'm a girl.
"Well, I'm bored of this romance shit," Lovino said getting up.
"What are you doing?"
"This," Lovino said while revealing the snowball he had kept hidden and chucked it at his surprised boyfriend smiling. "Bastard."
"Then I must retaliate," the other said grinning widely. Instead of the normal response to being hit with snow, Antonio had something different planned. He swiftly got up and tackled the Italian to the ground. Laughing above him, smiling. A giant smile including teeth. A smile that could melt away anyone's worries and make them not want to live another day without this smile.
I love him.
Did you like it? Did you cry? Please tell me in a review.
P.S. I cried, but then again, I was listening to Fix You by Coldplay... I'm not sure how someone could've not cried.