Rome, Italy. 1846

The air was warm and sweet, embracing him. It welcomed him and wrapped around him like the whispering Spanish air that tickled his nose on hot days and kissed his skin golden. It most likely would have been more welcoming had he been able to identify where exactly he was. However, that was not the case and Antonio found himself staring straight ahead at the path, looking up the buildings, sweat rolling down his forehead. Emerald eyes flickered to the buildings and the people around, but they did not find what they searched for.

A heavy sigh escaped Antonio and he looked in defeat as he attempted to not look as exhausted and lost as he was. He was sure he was missing the building simply from the lack of sleep he had gotten. Though, it was understandable considering his situation. When he had gotten the news that he was going to be a guest at a salon* in Italy, he was thrilled. After all, it meant that his ideas were appreciated and that he was going to share them with other people with similar ideals. After the Parisian salon he had attended, Antonio was confident in his work and what others would think of it. However, he needed to find the place that he was supposed to be at.

As luck would have it, he remained unable to find where he was supposed to be. He stood there, a dazed look on his face as widened eyes stared at the people and the buildings, not sure of where he was headed or even where he was at the moment.

A cough broke through the thickness of his thoughts and a sharp but alluring voice spoke, "I hope you do realize that you are in the middle of the pathway, sir."

Snapping from his daze, Antonio glanced to find a rather small man. His brows arched in an irritated manner, though it was difficult to see through the soft curls of delicate hair that cupped his face and covered a good portion of his forehead. His lips were in a small pout that fit well with his face and his hazel eyes flickered with a sort of daring flame that sent a shiver through Antonio. He couldn't have been any older than eighteen, but his attitude could have belonged to someone much older.

"My apologies. I'm a bit lost is all. Let me move out of the way," he smiled warmly, a soft chuckle bubbling past his lips. The small man gave a small huff, eyebrow arched higher, though it didn't sound irritated, before he made his way along, the golden rings on his fingers glistening in the sunlight. His clothes sparkling as they cried out the status that he held.

It contrasted with Antonio's duller clothes that were not nearly as extravagant. Though equally nice, they were dull in their dark greens compared to the other man with his rich rouges. It left him stunned for a moment with a dry mouth.

He was slightly intimidated.

Taking a deep breath, he looked once more up and down the streets for the building. It did take him a bit of searching, and waking himself up properly after the long journey and the sleepless night.

He was fashionably late, he would admit. Walking inside, the conversation died and the eyes fell on him. A pompous smirk grew on his lips as he made his way inside properly, his heels tapping on the ground. The conversation picked up once more, people acting as if nothing had happened. His cocky composure did not allow him to not fill with the desire to immediately get into a conversation and show his clearly superior ideas and philosophies.

While salons were not popular anymore and were certainly starting to die from popularity, they were still held for the purpose of talking of modern issues. They were still held, but they were not popular was all. This did not stop Antonio from attending them.

He recognized one face, Francis Bonnefoy, and quickly made his way to the seat next to the Parisian he had met at the previous salon. Though, considering the situation in France, he was surprised that he was here. He must have been recognized as well for the Parisian made no hesitation to move so that Antonio could sit next to him.

"It is a pleasure to meet you again, I did not believe we would meet again after Paris, Antoine," his voice was soft, much like the sweet kisses of a mother. They brushed the air delicately and painted him a saint. Though, Antonio knew how the man was. He had stayed with him while in France and even now, his words held a fire to him that Antonio recognized as spite from their last conversation.

"Nor did I. Though, it is refreshing to see you here."

Francis' lips curved into a smirk and his brow arched. As irritated as the conversation before had left him, he took pleasure in his conversations with Antonio.

Before another word broke past them, the door burst open.

"God's light now shines on this building!"

A metallic laugh rang through the area, causing Francis to scrunch up his nose and Antonio to stare in awe at the albino who fearlessly burst into the room in the rudest of manners.

Though, it was fitting with an appearance as startling as his.

Ruby eyes flickered through the room, the door shutting behind a rich blue coat. Eyes wandered to him, most in disgust, but none as disgusted as the sky blue eyes of the Parisian who scowled and glared as if someone had dropped a dead dog at his feet.**

The albino made his way across the room, sitting right next to Antonio, "My timing is a little off, but the trip was long. Then again. An event never starts until I walk in."

He laughed again, the metallic and loud laugh that was filled with enthusiasm and joy, but was venom to the ears. His accent was just as eccentric as he was.

"I only tease. I am not that egotistical," his loud attitude quickly melted away, "Or perhaps I am."

Francis, who was still very much glaring, huffed "Eugh. Prussians."

His tone must have caught the attention of the albino, as his ruby eyes glittered and glared at the Parisian. They trailed his attire up and down, an amused grin spreading on his lips, "A Parisian wants to insult me? How endearing. Go back to wasting your money and allow the Prussians to handle the battles."

Antonio could feel the tension. It was thick in the air and it reeked. The way that the both of them glared at each other as if they each had been enemies for years. It shocked Antonio. Especially when he found both equally eccentric and worthy of talking to. How was it that not even an hour in, two people could loathe each other with the fire of a thousand suns.

"I thought Prussians praised humility and modesty."

"We do. We also greatly appreciate courage. Though, I don't think a Parisian would understand what that is," His brows lowered, a pompous grin on his face and an amused look washing over his face as a disgusted and offended one fell on Francis' face.

Antonio saw how the conversation would go and while finding both to be interesting people, did not want to be near either when a brawl broke out because of the words that both continually shot at one another shamelessly. Petty insults that meant nothing at all but seemed to irritate both parties.

He supposed that it was natural for the two.

Turning, he began to engage in a conversation with the man next to him and the rest of the circle in hopes that by the time he was finished sharing his ideas—including the book he had written, that the two bickering behind him would have gained their senses once again.

It worked. He found himself engaged in a conversation that began with the rights of women, to the rights of slaves, and many other topics. However, the one that struck him was the one that he found many people, especially during the time that they were in, found extremely fascinating.

War.

"Personally, I hate war. I think it selfish and hypocritical really. Murder is a crime and we are punished for it until it is to the sound of trumpets and when there are thousands of men together on a field," he admitted, his shoulders drooped lazily and his eyes flickered to the side as a soft chuckle broke past his lips.

"Then are you are a hypocrite, my dear Fernandez? You enlisted in one of the recent wars, did you not? You contradict yourself," the man in front of him stated, interested in what this man believed.

Antonio met his eyes again, a smile on his face, "Indeed I am. I will admit that much. But we are all hypocrites, are we not? Man always contradicts himself," he clicked his tongue, "But I still stand firm with my first statement. I dislike war. I find it to be a scholar's ignorance gone extreme."

"You mock yourself?"

A few others laughed, mostly those who saw war as necessary in establishment of power.

"Erudition really," he replied, "Which I suppose would include myself. I did create a satire of it. We strive for so much knowledge and give the image that we know everything. How are we to know that what we are being taught is even the truth? Galileo went against the classic teaching and yet, what if he was wrong himself? What if-"

"Then it is your best interest to prove Galileo wrong, sir."

A voice broke the conversation and Antonio's brows furrowed as he turned to the owner of the voice only to be met with striking red clothing.

Glancing up at him, he found an angel. If he hadn't gotten a good look before, he surely did now. Those soft curls fell, bouncing gently and those hazel-olive eyes glittered with mischief but something else. Pouted lips were in a smirk and the bright red clothing sparkled just as much as he did. He was the brightest thing in the room, from his skin to his glittering jewels that matched every piece of fabric that wrapped around him.

"Unless of course, you play the hypocrite again and are the scholar you mock in your terribly written satire," his lips curved into a malicious grin—as if he enjoyed coming and stomping on Antonio's focus. The conversation in the circle came to a halt all because of this fashionably late person that nobody recognized.

"Pardon?"

"Oh well, you seem so insistent on your beliefs, but your book bore me and really seemed like something a child would come up with."

Antonio's jaw dropped as he stared at the demon in front of him with an angel's face, "And I suppose you believe that you are a superior writer, niño?"

Laughter bubbled past pouted lips, kissing Antonio's ears and filling him with anger and interest, "Have I damaged your masculinity, sir? How amusing. But yes, I do believe I can. And I believe I can create something less pretentious as well"

His tongue poked out and Antonio felt a million fingers run up his back before striking him hard. Who on Earth was this—this demon?

"I would love to read your less pretentious work, if it even manages to succeed," his words were bitter and not like him at all, but once a challenge came in his way, Antonio found it near impossible not to charge forward.

"Hah! You're rather amusing, Señor Fernandez. Are you challenging me? How endearing. You are no better than your two friends over there," he jerked his head, Antonio's eyes landing on the Parisian and the Prussian who were both still bickering and looked ready to pounce at each other at any moment.

He raised his brow and looked back at Lovino. A smirk grew on his lips and he could feel his heart pounding against his chest. Oh, he hated this little demon. The way his eyes stared through Antonio through half-lidded eyes was striking. But not as much as the way he so freely acted without fear of consequence.

He was deadly close to him, inches away and Antonio's brain racked with a million thoughts. He was in misery at the moment and knew he was dragging himself into a problem.

Yet, as he looked at the hazel hidden by half-lidded eyes, he found himself unable to really fight back.

"I suppose not, but you're no saint either, Señor-"

"Vargas," he replied calmly, "Lovino Vargas. I hope you never forget my name for it will one day crush you."

Antonio chuckled, "Perhaps. But until I see a book of yours at my feet that defeats all that I believe in, I suppose I am the superior, yes?"

Lovino laughed, a laugh that was by no means angelic. It was rough and like tin. It scraped and screeched, a snort breaking in for a moment. People stared, some amused and laughing at the way he laughed, others wide-eyed. A few faces turned up through the entire thing. Debates came to a halt just because of a laugh that sounded like a howling cat or a dagger scraping on a smooth stone.

Antonio thought it was the most gorgeous thing that he had ever heard in his entire life.

"You have to be insane to think I will ever admit to a thing like that. Or a plain fool. The second seems much more reasonable. Stop being vazey and grow some senses."

"I need senses? Then do tell me where you stand in beliefs and why you are here, Mister Vargas. You claim that you will best me and you have yet to provide me with a reason to believe you at all," he folded his arms, a cocky grin on his face. Such an argumentative person—and Antonio was drawn to him far more than was safe.

Lovino met him, eyes sparkling with mischief and confidence, "Well, I myself focus more on criminal justice than anything."

That was a new one.

"I think the death penalty is completely useless."

That was a surprise. Antonio's head tilted a bit. He didn't have a particular opinion on the death penalty set yet. Though, he knew that most people found it beneficial in preventing crime. He had to admit, that at this point he was leaning particularly more to the side that agreed with the penalty.

"It is not only the death penalty, I dislike torture as well. I find it hypocritical."

"Hypocritical to punish someone? I don't understand, Mister Vargas."

Lovino rolled his eyes, taking small steps and concentrating, "Of course you wouldn't. You're such a ratbag," he scoffed, "But yes, it is. Why is that murder is a crime and should never be done because it is morally wrong until it is either to the sound of the trumpets or the decree of a king? Is it right or is it wrong?"

He fell silent, stunned and overall amazed at the fire that his boy contained. He agreed-but he didn't. Snapping away from his daze, he gave a slight jerk of the head, "It is not that simple-"

"So you say that a sin and a crime is okay in certain senses? Would you say the same for adulterers, thieves, prostitutes, slavery, and everything else that we see as right or wrong depending on how it fits with us?"

It was difficult to come up with any words. He wanted to say yes, but he was aware of the lashing he would gather from that.

Averting his eyes, he felt the defeat settling in, "You cannot compare murder to thievery-"

"I can and I have. My point is this. It is hypocritical to punish the crime with death. It makes a wrong right. Not only that, it is much too expensive, especially when a majority of those who are killed are the peasants who are seen as less for crimes that a noble would not be killed for. As for torture, in general, it is inhumane and unnecessary. What is the point of it if the criminal is already locked away? It is allowing the anger and frustrations of one person to go onto another for reasons idiotic."

In all honesty, Lovino made excellent points. Antonio was impressed. Such a small character with such a thin figure. He was a child. Or at the very least, he looked very much like one. There was no way that this small ball of fire was any older than eighteen.

It was a good thing that he was just as bold.

"If I am understanding you correctly, you are defending the criminals? Why on Earth do you have any reason to pity a murder, a thief, or a liar? And is it not more expensive to keep a criminal living since they are to be provided with food and locked up than it is to kill a criminal? Your logic is flawed."

A bright and devious smirk quickly spread across Lovino's face and he shook his head, "I'm sure that if the false allegations and the petty crimes were not charged with death, the expenses of it would fall. Instead of the rich having all of the power and refusing to look through the eyes of the poor, perhaps there should be equality in all who get punished. The state should not obtain the right over a man's life; it is not even an effective way to handle things when the state itself is biased. It promotes vengeance and abolishes morality," an amused chuckle broke the air and it carried a deadly venom with it, "Plus, you act like a prisoner gets treated better. All of that wouldn't be so expensive if torture were condemned. You're such a fool! You hate war and murder but the death penalty is fine. Make up your mind!"

"But-"

"Ah ah ah! I was not done explaining why you're wrong, sir! Now, shut your mouth and allow me to finish," Lovino put a finger to Antonio's lips causing an unwelcome shiver to go down his spine.

It was a curse. That was what it was. Otherwise, there was no way to explain why he could feel his knees collapsing and his heart pounding violently against his chest. It was unfair.

He was the one who was supposed to make people quiver so.

He must have lost his focus because when he looked into his doom's eyes, he found them filled with slight irritation. Brows furrowed for a moment before eyes flickered away from him and focused on something else.

A man in the circle scoffed, "They are criminals. If a criminal is not to be punished, then what?"

Lovino said something; Antonio didn't hear though. His mind wandered for a bit. He couldn't focus. He felt his large ego and his pride being picked apart in the conversation and it gave him such a thrill! He craved more of it. He craved the fight and the fire—and he craved Lovino. As much as he attempted to deny it out of professionality, he desired the man more than he could handle and it drove him mad.

He wanted to contain that fire and tame it in a way. He wanted to make those sharp words sweet and directed only to him. Antonio craved his attention and he knew it was selfish and rather lustful of him, but it was difficult.

A fire like this burned inside of him and he had never felt it before. He loved this thrill of debate and he loved the pompous smirks exchanged. As he looked back to the angel in front of him all clad in red, Antonio knew that he would cross oceans and do anything for the ball of fire that sat there with a grand grin on his face as he explained his views to the other men.

But he did not know if Lovino preferred men and that would become an issue. He doubted he would find him at a male brothel. Even then, Antonio never walked into those things.

The last thing that he needed at the moment was to get charged for pursuing him or losing his credibility for it. As he looked up at Lovino, he saw a twinkle in his eyes that told him not to fret. Relaxing, he got back into the debate.

It all turned out well in the end. While they never did get a unanimous view on the death penalty, quite a few men did agree with at least condemning torture. Lovino took that as a triumph and grinned at Antonio, rubbing his success in his face with the tip of those brown boots.

He laughed lightly, standing up and making his way across the room to leave, but stopping as he saw Lovino, "You have a great fire in you despite being so young."

A fleeting smile twitched, "And what are you? An old man? Don't act so much older than me."

Antonio laughed, a warmth filling his stomach, "Perhaps," he paused, thinking over his next choice of words carefully before taking a deep breath, "Have you read Dream of a Red Chamber***?"

His angel blinked, staring for a moment in shock, "I-Yes. Well, a friend of my grandfather's from China translated it to me. Not many people have though. I suppose it has to do with the limited amount of translated parts and the fact that nobody speaks the language. I quite enjoyed it. It's a book certainly ahead for the time. "

"What do you mean by that?" His head tilted gently, though he had a feeling that he knew what he would say and it brought him great joy.

Lovino's face paled and his eyes widened before he looked away, muttering a small curse under his breath, "Well—there's certain things addressed in the book that would still be a bit surprising to people in our society."

Bingo.

A coy grin spread on his face and he averted his gaze for a moment, "I suppose you mean Baoyu? I can understand that."

His angel was nervous; he liked this.

"Yes."

"Understandable," he replied, "But I find I can relate to Baoyu—specifically when it comes to the young Qin Zhong."

He waited, a smile still on his face, for a response from Lovino. He was laying everything out for him on a gold platter.

Lovino's eyes widened in realization and Antonio searched through them for a moment for horror or disgust and found neither. He only found a face that began to tint red either from embarrassment or something more.

And then the daring grin returned to Lovino's face, "Oh really? That's fascinating, sir. But why tell me this? Do I appear as someone who really wants to hear your life experiences and feelings?"

This. This thrill and the tension in the air is what drew him to Lovino. The building itself was empty, so it was only the two standing there. Antonio curiously wondered where the host was. Though, that concern wasn't the biggest. Lovino didn't seem to draw away from the conversation which lit a flame inside of him.

He pulled back, pacing the room and shrugged, "I was thinking of recreating parts of it to practice my skills as an actor—I do act, if you didn't know—and I am looking for someone perfect to play Qin Zhong. I was wondering if you would be interested."

He felt confident. After all, if he had reached this far then there was absolutely no way that-

"Oh, you're endearing. But I'll have to pass," A wicked smirk was on his angel's face and Antonio realized he had once again forgotten that this man was a demon.

Lovino shrugged and dusted off his clothes, winking at Antonio as he made his way past him, "I have standards when it comes to sodomy. You'll have to do better than that. Until next time, sir."

That demon waltzed past him and moved to a different part of the house making Antonio realize whose home he was in. He stood there dumbstruck wondering how on Earth he had failed. As a bedroom door slammed shut and a wicked but enticing laugh filled the air, he knew he had made a mistake in letting his heart pursue such an evil little thing with no filter.

But like hell was he not going to continue to do so.

*Salons were gathering for philosophers, scholars, nobles, and educated people in general to discuss things, debate, etc. They were popular in the 1700s and started dying as the French Revolution got closer. Most were held in France (Paris mainly) but were also held in Italy. English versions of these were called coffeehouses. There are still some in modern times, they are just not popular like they once were.

**The Prussians and the French weren't really fond of each other throughout history. Especially not during this time with the French Revolution sparking up which made other absolutist monarchies (like Austria and Prussia) look bad. There was a lot of tension.

***Dream of a Red Chamber is a book originally published in China. It is about a love triangle with the main character Baoyu and his two cousins. However, it has been hinted that Baoyu was bisexual. Mostly because of a scene where a teenage boy named Qin Zhong is found attempting to get handy with a nun when a third figure joins them in bed. It turns out to be Baoyu who threatens to tell that he tried to seduce the nun unless he gives him a good time after bed that night. It was not translated entirely until the late 1800s. Small bits of it were translated over the years though by many people. Some more accurate than others.