Describe a relationship: SpaMano
From Romano's POV
I've always wondered about my relationship with Spain – no, Antonio. I've always had this thought, that he deserves so much better, so much more than what I can give him. I'm not good enough for him.
The thing is, though, Antonio is really stupid sometimes. No, I know what you're thinking: "He's always a little oblivious, isn't he?" Well, yeah. But I hate how when I need to tell him something important, he never quite understands me. And if the message actually does get through his thick head, it's impossible to tell just what he's thinking about what I've said or done.
It was me who first suggested the idea of us being an "item." Surprising, right? I figured that because he'd raised me and knew me so well, we might as well move onto the next stage of our relationship. It was inevitable, really, because ieveryone/i saw it coming, even my brother. Granted, all he had to say was "Ve~ fratello, I'm so happy for you!" but he says that about a lot of things so it's kind of hard to tell if he figured out that "big brother Spain" and I were more than friends. Not a lot changed, actually, except he started showing even imore/i physical affection… like kissing me on the lips in the morning instead of on my forehead. Yeah, not a lot changed.
I can't tell if he really cares about me, or if he's just with me so he can get closer to my idiot brother. I should really give the poor guy a break, considering he raised me from when I was his "cute little tomato" until I left his house for good. But come on! He tried to trade me for my brother. I guess he cares a little, though, because sometimes he'll do these little things that just mean the world to me… but if he ever finds out, somebody will have to pay.
Once, I spent a whole morning crying when I thought Antonio left for good. We had a huge fight the previous evening and went to bed on bad terms. When I woke up, he was gone. It was around eleven when I heard the front door open and Antonio carrying groceries into the kitchen. I ran downstairs and started screaming at him, but all he did was hug me – no, embrace me. It was a lot more than a hug. It was all I could do to cry into his shirt and apologize over and over again. He took my hands, looked me in the eyes, and told me he loved me. That was the first time he ever said it and meant it in ithat/i way.
Which brings me to this – Antonio is all about verbalizing his feelings. I mean, I hear the same thing every day: "Good morning, Lovi, I love you!" and if he's traveling, "See you soon, imi tomate,/i I love you!" and when we're having sex (I refuse to call it "making love" like my brother does) it's "Lovino, ite quiero./i" Yeah. I don't tell him exactly how I feel, I'd rather show him. Sometimes I'll cook his favorite meals for dinner, or I'll come home with a bottle of one of his favorite (expensive) wines, or I'll do all the work in the tomato garden for one day. Like I said, he's stupid, but even he's able to tell that when I do things like that, I'm letting him know I care.
We're not a match made in heaven. Hell, we're going against our religion simply by being together. But somehow, Antonio is perfect. He's like my other half. He has his faults, and God knows I have mine. But we work through that, just like we did in the past. We just fit.