So dear, no matter how we part, I hold you sweetly in my head. And if I do not miss a part of you, a part of me is dead. If I can't love you as a lover, I will love you as a friend. And I will lay a bed before you, keep you safe until the end.
...
"I can't live here anymore, if I do it. You know that? You'll never see me again."
Antonio's reply was a barely a whisper. An almost silent request.
"Then don't do it."
Lovino shook his head slightly, his brown hair falling over his face.
"Lovino." Antonio breathed his friends name into the air.
Friends. The term pained Antonio. He knew that Lovino loved him and he was horribly aware that he loved Lovino too. But it was Lovino who had decided that they could be no more than just friends.
Lovino did not look at him; he couldn't, he just couldn't bring himself to hurt Antonio that way. Lovino knew that if he looked into those green eyes, then the tears would start and Antonio would hurt the way he always did when Lovino cried, though this time it would be a thousand times worse.
...
Antonio could hear Lovino's footsteps coming up the stairs. He clamped a hand over his own mouth, trying to quieten his breath and to hold back a laugh. Antonio had thought himself practically unfindable. He had searched very hard for a good hiding spot…
"There you are, idiot." Lovino said simply, and Antonio came out from the hind the pot plant. Lovino had his arms crossed, and though his face was stoic, Antonio could see the smile tucked away in his greenish brown eyes.
...
They sat side by side on the balcony in silence after the conversation had died out. Below them they could hear cars going by, voices shouting for friends and whistling for taxis. Lovino was startled slightly when he felt Antonio touch his hand. Looking down at the tanned fingers that brushed against his skin, he felt a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He shifted to grasp Antonio's hand in his own, but felt a lump in his throat that prevented him from saying what he wanted to say.
Ti amo.
Yet although he could not speak, he could still move. So when he realised that Antonio was staring at him with surprised eyes, Lovino leaned in quick to kiss him.
...
The smoke whirled around Lovino's face from the cigarettes around him in the coffeehouse. Lovino's eyes were focused on Antonio as the Spaniard brought his cup to his delicious lips to sip the coffee. Lovino wished Antonio hadn't insisted on them going out to have coffee in such a crowded place. If they were alone, Lovino would probably already have the Spaniard naked. But no such luck. Instead, Lovino smiled at Antonio as he savoured the drink, and he laughed at all his jokes, and he tried to make sure that Antonio knew he was having the time of his life with him.
...
It was like it was the only time Lovino could entirely unwind and open up around Antonio. Lovino wasn't proud of that fact, as he set down his empty wineglass rather nonchalantly. His arms snaked around Antonio's neck and he began to kiss his lover with all the passion he could muster in his drunken state. Antonio reacted well, deftly unbuttoning Lovino's ridiculously expensive designer shirt. Lovino's pants were already too tight for his growing excitement, and he couldn't tell if there was a bead of sweat or a tear running down his face.
...
"I have to go. Italy belongs to Feliciano-"
"Italy belongs to you both!" Antonio almost shouted at Lovino, his breath catching in his throat and his chest heaving. His heart was aching terribly. He wanted to hold Lovino, to tenderly kiss him and let him know that he was loved and needed and that he didn't have to go. But he was too angry.
"I'm not strong enough, Antonio! Why don't you understand?" Lovino retorted, just as loudly. And then it was too late. Lovino's eyes met Antonio's, and tears spilled down his red cheeks. A never-ending stream that stayed with him all the way to the airport.
The time spent at the airport was the worst time of both of their lives. Lovino had to go to Italy. He had to sign the papers. He had to hand Italy over to Feliciano, where it would surely prosper and thrive without a useless, hopeless thing like Lovino in the way. But losing his connection with Italy would sever his ties to Spain, and though the thought of leaving Antonio made Lovino feel like throwing up, he knew deep down it was for the best.
Antonio couldn't stay still when Lovino had to leave him in the terminal. He paced panicked circles, his breath still so quick and so frightened. He had no shame in crying in front of the other people there. None at all. His frantic tears were so moving, he had people around him feeling his pain- people around him shed tears as Antonio wept to God in fits.
...
The room in which the papers were to be signed was bare, the walls and floors white, and the air cold. Feliciano sat on one side of the table in the middle of the room. He looked as though he had been crying almost as much as Lovino had.
Lovino sat across from him, and he gripped the pen so hard he nearly snapped it. The papers were daunting.
"Did you say goodbye to Antonio?" Feliciano asked quietly. Lovino tensed, his eyes burning into the paper. He nodded a little, and brought the pen down.
Lovino Vargas, Italy Romano, he signed his name where required.
...
Antonio did not want to be alone. He'd had Lovino for so long, so many times, he could hear the boys voice in his own and it tore him apart each time he spoke. Each word was bitter sweet, reminding Antonio of Lovino but also reminding him of the fact that he was gone…
...
Once the initial pain had faded away, it was okay. Antonio got out of bed in the morning, his knees no longer shook, and his chest no longer ached.
Lovino still crossed his mind, of course. Every single day, when Antonio bit into a tomato and tasted that sweet taste he was always reminded of his even sweeter Italian boy, and most of the time he would smile.