Songs: Home – Daughtry / I Don't Care – Fallout Boy
"Not now..."
Italian fingers fussed with layers of feminine clothing, a steady string of curses hissing in his breath. Damn knot was tied way too damn tight, and it had to be Toni's fault, had to be. He had... messed with it in the few minutes it had taken before he had vanished to somewhere, leaving Lovino alone in this too-big house. Not completely alone, to be honest, he had his brother for companionship but he was rarely seen, too busy doing these same tasks for a different nation.
"Oh, please, not now..."
He had gotten the letter yesterday, accompanied by a certain rapist bastard. "Lovino! Oh, cherie, look what I have!" he had cooed from behind heavy wood doors, the Italian secured behind a barely-opened mail slot. "A letter from your crush, oui?"
"He's my boss, you bastard!" Lovino had spat, face flushing despite his anger. The Frenchman had only smiled at him through the narrow opening."He's... chigiii!" He snapped the small brass flap closed and leaned against the door.
"You don't deny it," a French voice sang through the door, and the Italian thunked it with his fist.
"Just give me the fucking letter, frog," he snapped, and the paper poked its way through the slot. He grabbed for it – no, not needily, it wasn't as if he actually missed Spain. That was for saps like his brother. Italia Romano was above missing someone, above feeling lonely when certain tomato bastards left him alone.
With a shake of his head, he banished the thoughts and turned to lean his forehead against the door. "Go away!" he yelled. There was an answering scuffle, the sound of hard soles on the stone entryway. He waited several minutes, then made a second call. "I know you're still there, you rapist!" His voice became shrill. "Get the hell away!"
"I am away!" Francis cried, and he wasn't lying – his voice was more distant. It didn't satisfy Romano, though, and he growled.
"All the way away!" More scuffling and then silence, and he was confident that this time he had left. Silently, he clutched the paper in his hands. Unopened. At least the frog hadn't stooped to going through his mail. Quickly he slid a finger into the folds of paper and broke the seal, unfolding it, staring uncomprehending at the words scrawled on the paper. Bastard. Couldn't he write any better than this?
But then his eyes caught sight of a certain string of words, a phrase he had been waiting to see for far too many years. Lovi gasped, he felt his heart still, and damnit his hands did /not/ start to shake, not in the slightest, and he definitely didn't tear up a bit.
Antonio was coming home. Soon. Very soon.