Two Shades of Green- Chapter 1

Please keep in mind that Romano is one of the main characters, expect cursing, swearing, offensive language/insults and that he has strong (negative) feelings about Germans

There is also a strong appreciation for Spain's butt, so expect that.

It's not like Antonio Fernandez Carriedo expected every beautiful stranger he saw to come up and talk to him, but as he sat on the stage, strumming his guitar, he wished this one would.

The Spaniard had accepted long ago that he just wasn't interested in women. They were gorgeous, of course. He felt that every man, no matter his sexual orientation, should tell them so. But this still didn't mean he felt any real desire to be in a relationship with them.

So when he was surrounded by women fawning over his singing and guitar playing, it didn't bother him in the slightest. He complimented them back, but made sure never to take if further then that, lest he be confused for a flirt, which he most definitely was not. Antonio wasn't uncomfortable when a woman clung to his arm, giggling in his ear, he just smiled his carefree grin and politely pried them off. He didn't get upset when women handed him slips of paper with their phone numbers on it, he would just slip them into his pocket to be thrown out later. He never promised to call, just tucked them away. Antonio had never felt the need to announce that he was gay, just to get the girls off his back, and had never actually felt the need to tell anyone for any reason. He had never told anyone, ever, and he didn't plan on doing so. To Antonio, this fact wasn't important. In his mind, you should love someone for their personality, not gender, race or looks in particular.

That is... until this stunning stranger started showing up for his shows. Now, he still felt strongly that it should be the inside that you loved, but this stranger altered his opinions about women completely, as well as coming out to the world about his sexual orientation.

It was a rainy spring afternoon when the man first caught Antonio's attention.

It had been cloudy for days, and no one had really thought it would actually rain. So, when the sky split in two and a steady downpour began, no one had expected it.

Almost instantly, crowds of people had poured into the usually empty cafe, the man one of them. People took seats at random and ordered hot drinks to warm up while they waited out the storm. Soon, the customers grew bored and restless, many complaining about the dreariness of the restaurant.

Antonio's boss knew of his skill with the guitar and singing, so she had quickly ordered him up onto the small stage, thrusting the instrument into his arms.

Antonio wasn't shy, he'd never been shy, but singing in front of strangers was a new experience for him. He shook as he stumbled up the wooden steps, and almost dropped the microphone when it shrieked.

A chorus of laughter came up from the audience at that, and he flashed them a goofy, lopsided grin before settling onto the stool.

No one had expected much from the emerald eyed man, who was barely 22. That one stranger especially hadn't. He played a few chords, tuned the guitar and cleared his throat, making the stranger scoff and roll his eyes.

None knew that he would soon prove them wrong.

Antonio hadn't even caught sight of the stranger yet, and wouldn't for several minutes, as in his state of anxiety, every face in there blended together.

But when he closed his eyes, and opened his mouth, it was like Heaven had been released into the room.

His voice wasn't particularly deep, but it wasn't high either. It held a manly tone, but not in an obnoxious way, rising from his throat in vibrations. It poured from his sculpted jaw, floating across the room like a boat on a lake. The guitar strums all matched up perfectly, forming a smooth yet oddly rough rhythm as he started with the first song that popped into his head, a song about heartbreak.

When he finished, he cracked his eyes open, awaiting the insults and jeering that were sure to come.

Antonio took it as a bad sign that people in the crowd were sniffling, and some were wiping away tears. Even the stranger, seated in the dimly lit back corner of the room, was choking back sobs at the pure emotion in the Spaniard's voice.

He was about to bolt and lock himself in the employee bathroom to cry when the first person stood, clapping wildly. Soon, everyone in the cafe had joined, save for the mysterious stranger in the corner, by himself. He just frowned, glaring up at Antonio.

Antonio noticed this, flashing the man a large smile, before bowing and walking off the stage.

The second he did so, he was swarmed by people, most women, but some were men, and all of them were showering him with compliments that he didn't need, or want, to hear.

Antonio had been patient and talked to everyone in turn, but by the time he had broken through, the attractive man was gone.

His boss had switched his position from taking orders to performing, and the small cafe became more and more popular. Soon, every one of his coworker's pay had doubled, except for his, which quadrupled. He was getting $40 or more per song, due to his already existing pay and the generous tips people would leave for him.

Over the next few weeks, he noticed that the man would show up and sit in that corner, never bringing anyone with him. Every show, the stranger would listen, watching Antonio's every movement intently as the Spanish man kept his eyes trained on some distant point, and every time he would pretend to have not payed attention, turning to a notebook on his table. Antonio took notice of the strangers appearance of disinterest and made it his goal to make the man applaud, or even just smile.

He spent hours on end, practicing in front of mirrors, or in his bathroom, singing a song that was sure to crush. It was a risk, but he wanted no more than to impress this individual, more then anything in the world. It was his dream, you could say. He didn't want money, or a better job, just to see the stranger smile.

Even now, as he manned the cash register in the place of a sick coworker, he was stealing glances at the man. Little did he know, the man was doing the same.

Antonio had long since memorized the angles and colors of the man's face, his image burning into his lids every time he shut his eyes.

His eyes were chartreuse, with golden specks that sparkled when they caught the light. His skin was like porcelain, smooth and clear. Antonio noted that whenever he and the stranger made eye contact, an adorable red blush rose onto his cheeks, and if Antonio made a silly face at the other, his entire face turned a red that put that tomatoes in Antonio's garden to shame. The man appeared to be a small amount taller than the Spaniard, even from a distance. He had mahogany hair that shone brightly whenever a ray of sunlight stuck the top, and a strange little curl stuck up off the side of his head. A firm frown was seemingly always on his face, forcing the corners of his pink lips down. Antonio was tempted to go up to him and tug his cheeks upwards until a smile appeared, though that would probably scare the man off. The stranger had a specific fashion sense, wearing designer, Italian made shirts, nice pants and shoes and sometimes a scarf to go with it. Antonio had caught more then one girl drooling over the man, but never once had he seen the man look at them. "Or," he thought sadly,"at me." Oh, how dreadfully oblivious Antonio was when it came to... well... anything, including people looking at him.

Lovino Vargas watched the emerald eyed, chestnut haired man intently, memorizing his every move. He knew exactly how his muscles looked when the rippled beneath his long sleeved shirt, how his jaw adjusted when he smiled. He knew how his fingers spread when he raked them back through his unruly, yet extremely stylish, waves. He could picture in his mind how he looked from behind, specifically his rear end. Even Lovino had to admit, he had a nice ass. It was perfectly sculpted in his opinion, though he wouldn't go into full details on how nice it was.

With a small sigh, he turned back to the drawing he'd been working on for several months.

Lovino wasn't the best artist, not by a long shot. He was, however, better then most at it, with the exception of his brother, that Kiku guy and the wine drinking bastard, Francis.

However, this drawing in particular was exceptional. It was of Antonio, how he looked when he sang. Lovino had studied that face so many times, fixed every line to be perfect and to match the man's looks exactly, but something was missing. Feliciano had complimented him on it many times, telling him over and over that it was the most realistic picture he'd ever seen, but Lovino wasn't satisfied. Something wasn't there, something that needed to be there. He'd captured every crinkle, every mark, every angle. He'd even gotten the coloring just right, the complexion, the hair, the smile, the eyes. The thought wouldn't shake.

It was missing something. And Lovino would find it.

Thanks for reading the first chapter of my story!

I'm planning on uploading chapters frequently, though I don't know how often yet.

Constructive criticism is appreciated! Tell me what you want to see, and what you think should be changed, it will only make the story more enjoyable for you, me and everyone else.

Any side pairings?

Sabrina Megan