There they sat on the beach, watching the sun slide down to the level of the ocean. The palm trees were swaying in the wind, their green leaves gently flapping. It was a warm day that was fading slowly into a cool night. Beautiful, bright colors splattered across the sky, gradually getting darker and making the scenery all the more surreal.
And so there the two boys say, facing the crashing waves at the beginning of a gorgeous summer night. Not another soul was anywhere near, nor was any evidence of others. The boys' backs were to an area of brilliant plants that hid them from the rest of the world.
The taller boy's dark brown hair blew gently in the wind. He looked over at his company, somehow ignoring the serene scenery around them. One could see in his gaze that the younger was far more beautiful and precious to him than the scenery was. Eventually he gained the younger teen's attention.
"Why are you staring at me?" The rude tone did not even get an eyebrow raise from the shorter's older accomplice. In fact, it got a smile. "It's creepy! Stop it!"
"Lovino." It was just a whisper into the breeze, but it suddenly plummeted the situation into a whole different place. It made Lovino realize that here he was, sitting with Antonio on a deserted beach as a dramatic sunset occurred. He gulped.
"Antonio, stop," he said weakly, trying to gain some control of the situation.
It was then silent. Completely silent as they looked into each other's eyes, both having an idea where this was going; both not really minding. The slightest hint of a peaceful melody drifted on the wind, carrying their memories of the rest of the world away with it. All that mattered was then, there, and each other.
"Lovino," Antonio started again. "Lovino, do you really believe what your grandfather says about two men loving each other being wrong?" The Italian went silent and pondered it. He knew his answer, knew what would happen if he said it, but didn't know what to do.
What would happen if he betrayed his grandfather? Would it be better to hurt Antonio than Grandpa Roma? Lovino never had enough patience to think through consequences. He was rash and impatient and always furious. Yet somehow he had tricked someone into loving him.
It was sitting there with the most beautiful person in the world, surrounded by the most beautiful scenery there ever was, that a tiny voice rung out. It was a thought that had never occurred to him previously.
Love was worth the risk.
Lovino wanted to slap himself in the face. That was far too cheesy to be accurate! And Feliciano was the one who told him it! Feliciano is never right!
But then again, Lovino had thought Feliciano was wrong when he said Antonio wasn't a huge jerk. He thought Feliciano was wrong when he said that Lovino loved Antonio. He thought Feliciano was wrong when he suggested that Grandpa Roma might not always be right...
"No."
Lovino's eyes, which were previously trained on the sand just in front of Antonio, lifted up to meet Antonio's.
"No, I don't believe it's wrong for two men to... love each other."
"Thought so."
A moment of silence. Complete silence. The melody on the wind hushed and everything froze except Antonio's face, which was inching towards Lovino's.
Their faces collided smoothly, gently pressing lips to each other. Lovino could feel the slightest hint of stubble on Antonio's face. He could feel their noses touching and rubbing. All his senses were working harder than ever before, trying to take in the most possible of the Spaniard.
Lovino then quickly ripped his face away from the other's. His eyes were wide and panicked as he backed away. Antonio's head spun around the see what freaked out his Lovi so much.
Standing there taking picture after picture were Gilbert and Francis. They were cackling and catcalling and talking of spreading the photographs around town. Lovino wobbled to his feet and spat down at Antonio.
"Did you-?"
"No! I swear!" Antonio was pleading, a mad glint in his eyes. If Lovino didn't believe him...
A dry, bitter laugh tumbled out of the Italian's mouth. He had an equally insane shimmer to his eyes.
"Sure."
"Lovi, I swea-"
"Don't call me Lovi. In fact, don't talk to me ever again!" He somehow managed to walk away without collapsing with the weight of broken-hearted-ness. The tears were pouring down his face, but they did nothing. The melody on the wind came back, this time it seemed painfully nostalgic.
Well, it appears Feliciano really is never right.
Well, that's sorta short and suckish. I think I plan on making this a multi-chapter. It'd be sorta fun to toy around with. Wait, this is my first Hetalia fic. Which probably means new readers. So... Hello! I'm Oz!
Anyways, yeah. This happened on a plane while I blasted Riptide by Vance Joy on repeat.