Red Carnations

by Mochi-Tan

A story for the Hetalia pairing Spamano. Caution- yaoi (sort of). So, if you dislike it in all forms, avoid. My second fanfic, and rated M for language and later story. Enjoy! ... I noticed many people had a story with this name. I feel so... unoriginal... my apologies to authors who feel I have taken their title for their story. I respect all of them as talented writers.

Red Carnations

Welp, to keep it short, I don't own anything. Obviously. Enjoy, my readers. Or don't enjoy. If you don't like the story. That's not my problem. It's a free world, you got your opinion, blah blah blarb. So enjoy (or not).

Prologue: Light

It's a blazing hot morning in the summer. Children running about the place to play and have fun, and especially NOT learn. And yet, I, one of the most lazy and rebellious of them all, is cleaning up for a man I think sloppy, peculiar, ignorant, and greedy. Not to mention a damn bastard.

Here's the scoop: I'm the representative of the southern territory of Italy, which is in Europe. Ever since the Spaniards were given the land during the age around the Renaissance, this guy took me from my home country to Spain and kept me locked up. I already heard my country won their independence a long time ago, and I'm (for some damn reason) staying with the guy I hate.

Now here I am, sweeping the day away at the front porch. Antonio is in his study with his window curtain withdrawn, to keep an eye on me. I swear, that bastard's a stalker. Each sweep I make on the paneled wood floor he has to look up from whatever the hell he's doing. Each step he has to practically knock down the chair. You bastard, all I'm doing is getting to the next part of the porch, damn it! I think. Damn. Will that bastard always have to monitor my every move?

Oh dear, Lovino's getting the porch all dirty like that, slapping the broom onto the wood paneling. Well, I can't help it; he's just a little clumsy after all. I'll need to keep up at my work as well- I'm falling behind.

But it's such a beautiful day outside. The windows are crystal-clear, just as the water. The breeze is enjoyable, just lightly cooling someone's face. The birds are in sing-songy moods, the stream is trickling peacefully. The jade moss is curving the archway out the front yard ever so perfectly. The grass is soft and warm to boot. Children run around mindlessly, chasing each of their friends playfully. It's perfect.

So why is Lovi so tense today? And for that matter, on his birthday. He's a big boy now: shouldn't he celebrate?