His hand was balled up against the warm glass of window, pleasant to his cold skin. Summer sunlight streamed in through the high arching windows, bringing out the lighter tones of chestnut and red in his messy brown hair. Brown eyes, as bright and as warm as his brother's, were underlined by dark bags, the skin sagging and dry. His clothing was rumpled and wrinkled, tie hanging loosely around his neck, like he'd slept, badly, in the clothes he was wearing the night before.
One hand rested on the warm window glass, the other curled around a small flip phone, hanging half-open. The screen was dark; it'd been open a while. The room was silent and still, the sunlight warming both the man and the patch of carpeting it fell on behind him.
A sudden, harsh knock broke the silence, and tired brown eyes flickered over to the large door set into the wall across from him. He shifted slightly, shutting his cell phone and tucking it back into his pocket, sliding his hands down the legs of his pants in an attempt to smooth out the wrinkles. "What the fuck is it?" he asked, voicing cracking, barely, on the last word.
"Your brother's crying his eyes out thinking you killed yourself," a deep voice came from the other side of the door, muffled by the wood blocking the way. The words were surly, angry, tired.
"Well then, potato-bastard, go back and tell him I'm fine," he snapped, leaning against the window frame. The sharp edging poked into his spine, but he ignored it, brushing his hair from his face as he watched the door warily.
Silence for a moment. "...Are you okay?" the other finally asked, his voice so quiet he had to strain to make out the words.
"What makes you think I'm not?" he responded automatically. No, he wasn't fine, life wasn't great and it would all just get worse, he knew it.
"Does this have anything to do with what Antonio did? Because you seem kind of...off. I mean, you're not trying to kill me, which is strange. Very unlike you."
He went silent, biting his lip as he glanced back out the window at the warm summer's day. People, young and old, were strolling in the wide streets by his house, laughing and talking. A group of teenagers were clustered by a lamp post at the corner of the street, chatting among themselves, waving their hands around before all busting out into laughter so powerful they doubled up, clutching their stomachs. An old couple sat on the front steps of their own home, holding hands, fingers intertwined together, smiles small and real. "...No," he mumbled. "No, it doesn't have anything to do with what he did."
"Oh." There was another moment of silence, and he watched the people outside of his window. The teenagers were walking off now, pulling out cell phones and sliding them open. One girl with a bright red ribbons tying her hair up and off her neck handed her phone to the taller boy standing next to her, pointing something out him as they rounded the corner and left his sight. The old couple was speaking with a much younger pair that had stopped in front of them, the old woman smiling pleasantly as she heaved herself to her feet, the man just behind her. She unlocked the front door, then showed the younger couple, a woman with a waist length braid and a man with messy black hair, into the warm entryway of the home. "That's good, then," the other's voice came, breaking him from his thoughts. "I guess I'll go tell Feliciano that, then."
There was a clomping of footsteps, and he listened as they faded away before his phone vibrated. His hand dug into his pocket, pulling his cell phone from his pocket one more and flipping it open. He stared blankly at the background, a picture of a ripe tomato, before words popped up in front: YOU HAVE: ONE NEW TEXT MESSAGE.
He scowled, feeling a shot of anger race through him, even as he hit the "OPEN" button.
Hey, Lovi – Why are you mad at me? Was it something I did? Wait, was it that I dropped that bag of tomatoes you had picked out? Or that I fell asleep while you were over? I didn't mean to, I swear.
The message ended there but he knew there was another coming. He waited a moment, and his phone buzzed in his hand. He opened the message, lips tightening as he read.
Please, Lovi, it's been over a week; I really don't know what I did. Can you at least answer the phone? If not, I'm going to visit you, whether you want me to or not. I miss you. Please talk to me? - Antonio
Lovino felt his lips thin out again as he shut the phone with a loud snap, then tightening his grip around it. "You don't even remember, you bastard," he muttered under his breath as he pushed himself off the window frame, raising his arms above his head. "God dammit, Spain, you're the most thick-headed person I know. I should knock some sense into you."
His phone buzzed in his hand again, starting up some catchy tune in Spanish that Lovino remembered yelling at Antonio about even as the Spaniard set the tune as his ring tone, laughing the whole time. "What the hell makes you think I'll pick up?" Lovino growled as he checked the caller I.D., even though he already knew who it was. ANTONIO, the screen flashed at him. ACCEPT/IGNORE.
Lovino hesitated a moment, finger hovering above the ACCEPT button. Then he scowled again, and hit the IGNORE button with so much force that the covering cracked and fell off the phone, falling silently to the cream colored carpeting. Lovino ignored it, shoving his phone back into his pocket and leaving the warm room filled with summer sunlight to find some tomatoes to munch on.
----
Antonio frowned as the phone filled with beeping. He pulled it away from his ear to check the screen, just to make sure. Yes, Lovino had ignored his call, once again. After a week of trying to get ahold of his best friend and being ignored every time, even Antonio's patience was wearing thin.
He stared at the screen for another moment, then sighed heavily, flipping the phone shut and tucking it back into his pocket, shoving his hand in along with the phone. His other hand was run through his messy brown hair, fingers tangling in the thick and unbrushed curls. His bright green eyes were surrounded by deep, dark bags, the exhaustion he felt clear in his movements. His reactions were slower,off, and it felt like his head was filled with a hazy fog that made thinking even more difficult.
Feliciano, sitting at the kitchen table a few meters away from Antonio, glanced up, eyes red rimmed and watery. "Did he answer?" he asked, his voice shaking, hands tangled in his bangs. The Italian looked like a wreck; hair mussed, eyes red, skin pale and clammy.
Antonio smiled thinly as he took in Feliciano's appearance. "No, he didn't. But Ludwig hasn't called us; I'm sure that Lovi hasn't killed himself or something." At least, he hoped he hadn't. Life without Lovino there – angry Lovino, disgusted Lovino, furious Lovino, and the rare happy Lovino – was the worst thing Antonio could imagine. Even though Lovino was almost constantly angry with him, hitting him, life would be too dull without him.
Feliciano bit his lips, fresh tears pooling up in the corners of his brown eyes. He scrubbed at them furiously with the back of his hand, cheeks turning a pale pink. Antonio watched silently, one hand still tangled in his hair, the other fiddling with his phone inside of his pocket.
The back screen door clicked open quietly, and Ludwig's tall form appeared in the kitchen, rubbing the back of his head with his hand. His blue eyes fell on Feliciano immediately, and his lips pressed together. "He's fine," he said shortly, shutting the door behind him. Antonio nodded his thanks as Feliciano burst out sobbing. Rolling his eyes, Ludwig crossed the floor and pulled the crying Italian to his chest. Feliciano clutched at the front of Ludwig's uniform, burying his face in the taller nation's shoulders.
"He says you didn't do anything," Ludwig told Antonio over Feliciano's head, one hand rubbing circles on the crying brunette's back. Antonio nodded thoughtfully, rubbing his chin with one hand before turning sharply on his heels. Ludwig watched him go silently before turning back to the task of calming down the sobbing Italian.
Antonio opened the screen door quietly and slipped out into the warm summer's afternoon light. It had been raining lately; the grass of his front yard was a rich green and his flowers were flourishing, a splash of bright red, gold and orange against the dark red walls of his home. Heat streamed off the driveway in waves, mirages dancing in front of his eyes as he headed for the road, gravel cracking around his feet.
----
Lovino sighed as another knock, this one softer and much more gentle then what the potato bastard had inflicted on his poor door, sounded, ringing loud and clear around the room. He took another bite from his tomato and yelled, "I said I'm fine, bastard! Go away!"
"Lovi?"
Lovino's heart almost stopped at the exotic, warm voice coming from the other side of the door, tinged with concern and worry. "Antonio?" he whispered, lips brushing the edge of the tomato he held. Red juice dripped from it to the cream carpet as Lovino repeated louder, "Antonio?""
"Lovi? Are you there? Por favor, open the door."
Anger crashed into Lovino again, a hot and burning wave. His hand tightened around the tomato, more juice falling like rain to the carpet. "Will you leave me the fuck alone, Antonio?"
Antonio sighed heavily. "What did I even do this time? Lovi, please. At least tell me why you're so angry with me."
Lovino pursed his lips, stepping backwards until his back hit the wall, he slide down to a sitting position, legs tucked up to his chest. The tomato was dripping all over his hand, slimy and sticky as it dried. "...I don't want to talk about it," he mumbled, staring at the faded knees of his baggy jeans.
Silence for a moment, then Antonio chuckled weakly. "Was it really that bad? I've been thinking about it all week, Lovi. I don't know what I could have done."
"It's what you didn't do, you bastard, along with what you did." The words were whispered, but Lovino knew Antonio had heard them by the soft "oh." that came from the other side of the door.
"...Are you talking about me kissing you?" Antonio asked quietly. "I wouldn't have, if I knew you'd be angry...is that was this is about?"
Lovino inhaled deeply, eyes shutting so tightly stars danced in front of them. "No...and yes."
"...You've lost me, Lovi." Antonio's voice was confused, bewildered. Lovino smiled faintly; Antonio had always been easy to bewilder. His hand not holding the dripping tomato ran through his messy hair, tangling the strands even more so.
"I'm not pissed about the kiss..." he trailed off and licked his lips nervously, feeling butterflies dance in his chest, their wings tickling in insides.
"You aren't?" Surprise colored Antonio's voice now; Lovino could almost see the dark red flush on the Spaniard's coffee colored cheeks. His smile grew slightly, teeth digging into his lower lip as he bit it gently.
"Not really, no," he mumbled. His voice was getting quieter and quieter even as he spoke, nerves stealing his voice from him.
"It was a joke, Lovi," Antonio called in. "Francis dared me. Come on, Lovi; is your sense of humor that bad?"
"I said I wasn't angry about the fucking kiss!" Lovino snapped, another wave of anger crashing into him and fueling him. "It's because you meant it as a joke that I'm pissed, you fucking bastard!"
Antonio went silent, and Lovino surged forward to his feet, stomping to the door and flinging it open. Antonio's startled face, green eyes wide, appeared in his vision as Lovino shoved his face into the Spaniard's, sticky tomato scented hands grasping onto Antonio's wrists. "...Lovi?" Antonio asked hesitantly, leaning back slightly from the furious Italian. "Is there something you're not telling me?"
Lovino smiled, eyes dancing maniacally. "Oh, I don't know, bastard. Could be you're the biggest moron I know, because you never fucking notice what I'm saying. Maybe it's that I think it's fucking insulting for you to kiss me on a dare, and then laugh about it!"
Antonio looked hopelessly confused, gaping wide-eyed and slacked jawed at Lovino. "B-but I thought you said you weren't pissed about that kiss!"
"No, you're not listening," Lovino snapped back, grip tightening on the Spaniard's wrist, making him wince, "It's just...just...Merda." Lovino scowled fiercely at Antonio for another brief heartbeat, then surged forward, meeting Antonio's lips with bruising force, teeth crashing together as the Spaniard opened his mouth in a yelp.
He pulled back barely an instant later, face flushed as red as the tomato he had been eating just minutes ago. Antonio looked stunned, mouth hanging open, eyes wide, his wrist slack in Lovino's grip. The Italian drew back, curling his spine over, eyes guarded as he watched Antonio blink once, twice, then open his mouth.
"W-what-" Antonio cut himself off, frowned, then spoke again, "What was that, Lovino?"
"Are you really that stupid? It was a fucking kiss, dumbass!"
"B-but..." Desperation and confusion flashed in green eyes, bright and hot, "...What?"
Lovino stared at Antonio, eyes lowered disbelievingly. "It means I like you, moron. Get it through your thick skull." He dropped Antonio's wrist and turned on his heel, storming back into his room and slamming the door so hard behind him that the walls shook, eyes burning. Antonio stared at the shut door as Lovino leaned against the other side of it, burying his face in his hands. The Italian slide down the door to sit on the floor once more.
Antonio, standing on the other side of the door, opened his mouth, then paused, licking his lips nervously before he said quietly, "I lied, Lovi."
"About what?" Lovino's voice was surly, anger and rejection laced tightly into it, so thick that the Spaniard could feel it loop around his neck like a noose.
"Francis-" he cut himself off and sucked in more air, closing his eyes as he tried to steady himself, "Francis didn't dare me, Lovi. It was a good excuse."
Silence once more. "You mean that?" Lovino asked, his voice shaking, so quiet that Antonio almost missed it.
Another deep breath. "I've never lied to you before, Lovino. 'sep about the dare, but I really did need a good excuse for that because I thought you were going to hit me if I had told you the truth."
"I should've."
Antonio couldn't help himself; he laughed. Lovino cracked a small smile on the other side of the door, getting slowly to his feet. The door clicked opened softly, although no one could hear it over the Spaniard's loud laughter. Lovino waited quietly as he waited for the taller nation to stop, then slowly held out his arms, cheeks burning.
Antonio giggled again, but wrapped his arms around the Italian, pulling him into a rib-crushing hug. "Dye your hair green and you'll look just like those tomatoes you love so much," he muttered in Lovino's ear.
"Oh just shut up and kiss me."
Antonio grinned before dipping his head to do as the smaller nation had commanded.
----
Author's Note
Dedicated to EJR-Blue-Rose because she's just that awesome. Never expect anything like this from me again; my tagline on dA is Princess of Tragedy for a reason.