It all started on a normal weekend, a Sunday to be exact.
"Lovino! Feli! Come down here, please!" their grandfather called, dusting off his apron, where flour was smeared from making pizza dough.
The grandsons made their way down the stairs from their rooms, one bounding the steps and one dragging their feet.
"What is it, Nonno~?" the younger twin asked. The older twin just rolled his eyes at the other bubbly Italians. "Well, mi old friend, Torvald, is moving here to our city, in America, and he has grandsons living with him that are around your age," Romulus said, leading his own grandsons into the kitchen, "I need you to help make them comfortable here and help them around when school starts again." Feliciano gasped in excitement, while Lovino groaned, "Do we get paid for it?" The surprisingly young grandfather sighed, but smiled cheerfully as he chopped tomatoes for tacos. "If it guarantees them getting comfortable, then sì." "Here," Romulus handed his eldest grandson a few five dollar bills, "Get a new tire for your motorcycle." Lovino looked satisfied, stuffing the cash into his wallet with tomato stickers littering it.
Romulus pulled out bills for Feliciano, but the boy shook his head. "I hope they like me~!" he chirped instead and the older Italian smiled, ruffling Feliciano's hair.
Lovino's smile disappeared at this. Damn Feli. Why does he have to be so fucking good all the time? He thought, muttering under his breath.
"I bet they will, since one of them is so much like Torvald. Which means, since I am Torvald's friend, you'll friends with his youngest grandson easily 'cause you are so much like me~!" Romulus and Feliciano celebrated this discovery, while Romano stole a few slices of tomato off the cutting board and walked out of the kitchen.
"Bastardos.." he muttered under his breath, stuffing a slice of tomato in his mouth, before trudging up the stairs.
He sighed and flopped onto his banana yellow sheets. When he was little and sometimes wet the bed at night, his grandfather used to catch him in the morning, hauling his blankets to the laundry room. So, now he got him yellow bedding so Lovino would be able to get away with wetting the bed if he so needed to. Lovino saw it as a reminder of the humiliation he went through as a child. Nonno, you bastardo.. He gritted his teeth at the memories and snuggled into his big tomato pillow which took up half of his queen-sized bed.
He then settled on it and pulled out his iPhone, not wanting to do his homework. Lovino scrolled through his contacts, looking for someone to rant to. Bella? "No." She was in Amsterdam, visiting her brother before summer break was over. Lovino rolled his eyes and scrolled down his family contacts. That was pretty much it. Bella, a girl who transferred from Belgium, was the only person he really talked to in his high school. Everyone else judged him by his attitude. "Well, that's their problem," Lovino grumbled, turning to his side and hugging his tomato pillow. He blinked and scrolled down to his last contact.
Toni the Tomato Bastard. Lovino smiled, which was rare to even anyone who knew him well. Toni was his Spanish penpal that he got when he was in grade school. Lovino and him were now close texting buddies who still never met face-to-face. And Lovino liked it that way. No pictures adds some mystery, though Toni frequently complained about it. He finally agreed to it in the end, doing what Lovino wanted. Toni was a year older than him and lived in Madrid, the capital of Spain. He played sports all the time, but always replied quickly to Lovino's texts. Him and Lovino would talk anything and nothing all the time. And though it was pretty sad, he was the one Lovino would consider his best friend.
The Italian opened a chat box. His little picture of a cartoon tomato and a green copy of his signature hair curl protruding out of the stem appeared when he sent the message: Ciao, bastardo.
Antonio, who had just carried a bunch of moving boxes into his room, pulled out his smartphone and smiled as he saw the text.
Hola, amigo? Como estas? His picture of a cartoon baby sea turtle dressed as a tomato popped up next to his message.
Lovino snorted at the Spanish and texted back.
Didn't I tell you not to use your stupid home language when texting me, tomato bastardo?
Antonio chuckled at this, knowing that this meant Lovino was bored and just needed someone to rant to about something.
What's the problemo, Lovi~?
Lovino sighed, looking at the ceiling for a few minutes before texting back.
Two new bastardos are transferring to our school and Nonno happens to be friends with their grandfather, of whom I assume they live with. I can't remember his name, but it sounds German. Aren't all Germans Nazi potato bastardos or some shit like that? Anyways, I got paid to make them fucking comfortable in our city and our school.
Antonio pulled magazines out from under his bed and dropped them into the first box he unfolded. Normally teens at his age would have some dirty playboy or porn magazines, but Antonio had cooking and home improvement magazines. When this thought went through his head, Antonio couldn't help but chuckle and wonder why such important books were under his bed in the first place. He checked his phone again, smiling as he had noticed he had been right about Lovino wanting to rant.
So, you agreed to do it?
Lovino grimaced at the thought of showing two potato bastards around their city.
Sì, but I'll probably have Feli do most of the work.
Antonio stretched and changed out of his shirt as Lovino grabbed a towel from the closet and went into his bathroom, plugging his phone in to charge. The shirtless Spaniard tugged on a wife beater as he texted back.
As expected. Though, it's nice of you to make an effort to help.
Lovino shed his clothes and hopped into the shower after texting:
Oh, shut up, Toni!
Antonio grinned at his phone screen and folded clothes neatly, putting them into a big box, though he didn't have many clothes. He was about to plug it in to charge when he got a call. He shrugged and answered it.
"Hola, Toni here~"
Gilbert shoved a moving box down the stairs and rode on it until it tumbled at the bottom step. It would have broken something if there was anything fragile inside the box. "Hey, Toni. Wie geht's?"
Antonio chuckled, as he heard the stunt and the small groan of pain as the albino got up.
"Nothin' much. How was the tumble?"
Gilbert opened the front door and started pushing out the box to the ramp of the moving truck. "Almost got it perfect, which is expected of the awesome me~"
Antonio picked up a picture frame from his desk. It had a picture of Gilbert, Antonio, and their exchange student buddy, Francis, who had stayed with Gilbert when Antonio lived in Berlin in middle school. The Spaniard smiled. "So, the flight to Paris is in three days, no? Time goes by quickly.."
Gilbert pushed the box all the way into the dark truck trunk and then fanned himself with his shirt as he walked back into his house. "Ja, yours is. Time's actually moving faster for us. We're leaving tonight."
Antonio paused in what he was doing. "Really?"
Gilbert laughed, checking his pale skin for any sunburns, before jogging up to his room for more filled boxes. "Ja, didn't I tell you?"
"Not that I remember.." Antonio murmured, racking his memory. "Well, surprise! Francis and I will pick you up from the airport, what d'ya say~?" Before Antonio could respond, Gilbert cut in again, as if he had just remembered something. "Oh, and I'll be going to Amerika early, so you guys can drive the awesome me to the Frenchie airport and I'll pick you guys up when you arrive~!" Antonio chuckled, amused at this transportation plan. "Sì, that will give Francis and I enough time to hang out~!" "Ja, don't have too much fun without the awesome me~!" "Sì, don't worry, we won't~!"
Gilbert loaded in another box, calling down for his younger brother to get his lazy ass up and pack in his boxes too. "Prepare, Amerika, the awesome me is coming your way~!"