Author's Note: Hi readers! I'm Churrosity but you can call me Churro n_n. This is my first time posting any written work of mine on the internet, and to be honest, I am really terrified right now. I've never shown anyone my work, so I have never received any feedback... so I would really REALLY love for some critiques or comments so I know I'm doing okay (or if I'm not, then I can know what to improve on)! Thank you! Also, thank you for taking the time to click on this fic and reading this a/n! You're wonderful! c:
About this story: I was inspired to write this after reading One Day by David Nicholls. Just to summarize the book, it was a story that followed the lives of two best friends on one day a year. But for those that read the book, I'm only using the format of the book, so the story will be different, although there will be some things I will keep the same! This fic is a bit of a shot in the dark for me, so I apologize for any mistakes. I did research on the setting and time period and all, advice or tips on these would be very much valued!
Characterization: Spamano is my OTP of OTPs. I love them so, so much. I really hope I didn't butcher their beautiful relationship with this fic. FORGIVE ME! Ahhhhh D:
Other notes: Sorry about the inconsistent verb tenses. I'm trying to write in present tense, but for some parts, present doesn't work, so I keep switching between present and past and it's just a mess. :(
Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia. Characters belong to Hidekaz Himaruya.
Okay, here we go! Thanks for reading all that. Gah! Feedback (about anything!) would be extremely appreciated!
I hope you enjoy!
"What do you think life will be like when you're … say …34?"
He laughs in reply - a beautiful laugh that makes Lovino's heart flutter.
"34? You're only 16! You shouldn't be worrying about what life will be like when you're 34!" He gives Lovino a playful nudge on the arm.
For the next few moments, the two are silent. As they lay side-by-side on their backs in the over-grown grass, gazing up at the night sky, they listen to the sound of the summer breeze whispering through the air, the gentle sound of ocean waves splashing against the coastline and the sound of each other's steady, rhythmic heartbeat.
Slowly and carefully, Lovino turns his head towards him. He doesn't want him to notice him staring. But who can blame him?
Antonio Fernandez Carriedo. His eyes, which are peering admiringly at the twinkling stars, are of the most gorgeous colour Lovino has ever laid eyes on. They remind him of fresh limes sold at markets, the shinning emerald earrings his Nonna used to wear, or perhaps even that apple-scented dish detergent he has at home. Yet, none of those greens could compare to his eyes. They were just a brilliant, soft, soothing green – they just take Lovino's breath away.
Before he stares for too long, Lovino whips his head away, a blush already threatening to colour his cheeks.
He ponders to himself how he had ended up here, lying next to this boy, on this small grassy hill overlooking the ocean waves.
...
Several hours before
Shouts of "Congratulations!" and "Good Luck to you!" are repeated and repeated all around, like a chorus of noisy geese. Lovino walks past the happy, smiling faces, saying nothing to any of them, only thinking to himself, "I'll never have to see you people again."
"Lovino!"
He stops and turns toward the voice. It's Kiefer.
Today, Kiefer looks nothing short of his usual appearance. Atop his head sits his red beret, while his outlandish white hair is secured in two long braids. A small mole is visible underneath one of his two eerie violet eyes. But something is definitely out of place today. A wide grin graces his face.
"You look happy." Lovino comments.
Kiefer and Lovino could be called friends. Or maybe the better term would be two-loners-who-sometimes-associate-with-each-other . Kiefer was known as the eccentric art student, and Lovino was referred to as the short-tempered douche who hated everything but art, so they often hung out together. Lunch hour was spent together in the art room, where they chirped spitefully about everything: the teachers, the crappy school and the hooligans they called classmates. Not exactly the ideal friendship-making bonding time one would hope for. Nevertheless, Kiefer was the closest thing to a friend to Lovino, and possibly, it was the same the other way around.
"Well, yeah, you know," Kiefer splutters out. "There's a party that everyone's going to. Everyone's invited."
"Okay," Lovino says, nonchalant as ever.
"So do you want to go?"
"No."
Kiefer grabs Lovino's shoulders, and there is an almost pleading look in his eyes.
"No?! Come one, Lovino. It's a party. With everybody!"
"God, Kiefer, why would I want to go to a party with all of these losers?"
"Have some fun!"
"Fun," Lovino scoffs. "Yeah, watching these drunkards puke all over themselves is definitely my kind of fun."
"Come on, Lovino! It's graduation! You'll never see them again."
"Why does that matter to you?"
Kiefer hesitates for a moment. He takes a breath.
"Look, Lovi. I know we both talked about how much we hated this place, and these dumbasses. I wasn't lying when I said all of that. But, now I… I feel like I'm going miss all of this… everything… and everyone." He pauses. "Next year, I'm moving to Austria."
Lovino looks at him blankly. This is news to him.
"I'm studying art there. I've already applied to an arts college. My aunt lives there and all, so I've got a place to live. Anyway –" He quickly ends his spiel. "I'm just saying, that I'll never see all of you again. I'll never see you again, Lovino."
He actually sounds sad, Lovino thinks to himself. Admittedly, he feels a little blue himself. His one companion was about to leave his life for good. Farewell to the days of snide gossip and mutual hatred!
"So Lovi, please, go! It'll be the last time we ever hang out again."
Lovino stares back at him. He heaves a deep sigh and mutters, "Fine."
Kiefer's face stretches into an even wider grin.
...
At 11:48 pm, Lovino finds himself seated in a corner at the back of the small pub with a bottle of cheap champagne as his only company. He leans his head back into the musty couch as he takes a swig from the bottle, draining the remaining contents. His eyes take a quick sweep of the scene in front of him.
The party is beginning to wind down; there are probably only a quarter of drunken graduates left in the dimly lit pub than there were at the height of the celebration.
Unsurprisingly, the party was everything Lovino expected it to be: loud, obnoxious banter; numerous spilled drinks and sweaty teenage bodies pressed much too closely together.
At least no one ripped off their shirt and jumped on the tables. The pub was owned by one of the graduate's parents, and it was being used on the condition that everyone would act responsibly.
In the early stages of the party, Kiefer had sipped at a can of beer ("My first time drinking alcohol!") and engaged in light chatter with Lovino. He then proceeded to study each painting that lined the pub walls with great effort, and just as he was about to move onto the sixth painting, he clapped his hand to his mouth, ran to the bathroom and did not return for 20 minutes.
When Lovino went to check on him, there was no sign of Kiefer. He asked the bar manager if he had seen him.
"Boy with long white braids? Yeah, I saw him leave out the back door with his parent or something. Looked sick to his stomach."
So Lovino decided to sit in the corner and finish his bottle of champagne – he wasn't going to let that go to waste! After all, he wasn't in a rush to be anywhere; there was no one waiting for him to come home.
The small apartment on the corner of Bosorne Road and Queen Street used to be occupied by Lovino and his grandmother. Now, two years after her untimely death and many nights spent crying into his pillow, Lovino lived independently in that lonely apartment.
Except for a grandfather and a younger brother, Lovino had no other family. His parents both died in a fatal collision with another car when Lovino was still a blubbering diaper-wearing baby. For the early years of his childhood, Lovino and his brother Feliciano were raised by their grandparents.
One day, Grandpa Vargas returned home after midnight again, drunk as a skunk as he always was, and his grandmother finally snapped, filed a divorce, packed her bags and announced she was taking the grandchildren with her. But Grandpa Vargas fought tooth and nail to keep Feliciano with him in Italy; nothing could release his grandfather's unrelenting grip on his youngest grandson. So his grandmother took Lovino, "away from that stronzo!", and moved to Cornwall, England of all places.
While Lovino was less than pleased with her choice of residence, he loved living with his grandmother. His Nonna was loving, strong and she made the best Insalata caprese. Meanwhile, his grandfather was carefree, flirtatious and unreliable. But since the separation and death of his wife, he has been trying harder, and frequently keeps in touch with Lovino. For Lovino's graduation, he had sent a card apologizing for his absence, stating that he wouldn't be able to attend.
It is past midnight now. Lovino sets the empty bottle on the low table in front of him and lifts himself off the creaking couch. He makes his way toward the exit, weaving carefully between overly affectionate couples and retching boozers. After a boring and disappointing night, he's glad to finally head home. But at the same time, Lovino feels … excited. Tomorrow is officially the beginning of his new life! Or more accurately, today, right now.
He pushes the door open, steps out and immediately he collides with someone.
Irritated, he turns to face the jerk. Who the fuck stands right in front of a door?! He whips his head up to yell at the bastard, but the words stop in this throat as his glare meets a pair of very green eyes.
Lovino's mind stops for a moment.
He takes in the whole face and realizes quickly who it is. He shoots a glance behind him. Sure enough, the other two are here as well, standing a few yards away from them.
The Bad Touch Trio. Everyone knew them – even the teachers. They were the most bad-ass bad boys in the school. An unbreakable alliance of mischievous punks. Nothing but trouble. Their members included Gilbert Beilschmidt, the German albino self-proclaimed "awesome-sauce" of the group; Francis Bonnefoy, the amorous French flirt; and Antonio Fernandez Carriedo, the new Spanish student that transferred into the school a year ago and had girls asking to have his babies before he could even utter a single "¡Hola!"
Lovino avoided the group at all costs, and probably only encountered them briefly once or twice in the past year, but here he was, face-to-face with one of its members.
Antonio observes the boy in front of him. A wild hair curl sticking up out of a head of soft, chestnut-coloured hair; stunning amber eyes that manage to shine in the lackluster light of the streetlamps, and to complete the look, an expression like a deer caught in headlights. He's seen him around school before. He's the art student that hangs around the art room all the time! What was his name again?
Antonio's eyes search the boy's face, as if it would reveal his name to him. He suddenly realizes that they've been staring at each other speechlessly for a good amount of time already. He quickly says something.
"Sorry about bumping into you!"
Lovino snaps out of his trance and blinks. He doesn't know what to say. He stares dumbly back at Antonio, who studies him with a small, amused smile.
He decides to talk some more.
"I don't think we've ever met before! I'm Antonio! Nice to meet you." He sticks out his hand.
Lovino stares at the hand offered to him. He is once again at a loss of words and capacity to think clearly. He blames it on the alcohol.
Antonio watches him stare at his hand like it is talking burrito with nine eyes, and he lets out a tiny laugh.
"You're so cute!" Antonio says.
This incites an immediate reaction. Lovino's eyes angrily flicker from the outstretched hand to Antonio's face and snarls at him, "No, I'm not! Fuck you!"
With his flaming red face contorted in both embarrassment and anger, Antonio cannot help but to burst out laughing.
"What are you laughing at?!" Lovino's face becomes an even brighter shade of red.
"You're really funny!" Antonio says between chuckles, and then adds "You look like a tomato!"
Lovino feels something snap inside him, and he grabs the front of Antonio's shirt.
"You-! What did you say?!" he growls out. "Did you just say I look like a tomato?! Fuck you, I'm no tomato!"
Antonio wants to laugh even harder, but he restrains himself.
"Lo siento, lo siento!" Antonio raises his hands in apology. "Then what should I call you?"
"I'm Lovino Vargas, bastard," Lovino snarls.
"Okay! Lovino Vargas bastard!" Antonio cheerfully repeats.
"Fuck! No! You're the bastard!"
"No, I'm Antonio!"
Lovino hisses and lets go of Antonio's shirt, who smiles gleefully back at him.
Antonio sneaks a glance behind him and spots his two friends. Gilbert, drunk out of his mind, is slumped over the shoulders of Elizabeta, who is grumbling at his recklessness. Francis and student council president Arthur Kirkland are having something that looks like a couple's fight, though they are not in a relationship – they just like getting under each other's skin. Assured that his friends are taken care of, Antonio turns back to Lovino.
"Hey, Lovino. Do you want to go somewhere with me?"
"Huh?!"
"Do you want to go somewhere together?" Antonio says again, grinning.
"What?! Where?!"
"You'll see~"
Only a fool would agree to run off into the night with some stranger they just met to God-knows-where. Lovino was that fool.
Who knows what possessed him to let Antonio grab his arm and lead him down the dark streets while prancing like an overhyped idiot. Maybe it was that blinding grin. Or the thrill of the question "Do you want to go somewhere with me?"
Or those eyes … those hypnotizing green eyes. Fuck, no way! Lovino just blamed it on the alcohol.
...
"Here we are!"
Lovino rolls his eyes. "You wanted to take me to Cape Cornwall?"
"Yeah! It's beautiful here." Antonio's voice is filled with excitement.
Cape Cornwall was simply a small headland at the edge of the mainland, a grassy cliff that extended into the restless ocean.
"There's Land's End!" Antonio points in a general direction towards the rocky cliffs. "And over there is the Heinz Monument! Did you know it was named for that ketchup company?"
He sounds like a tour guide, Lovino chuckles to himself. He looks over at the Heinz Monument, which really is just a chimney sticking out of the grass.
On the topic of ketchup…
"I couldn't care less about that vinegary sugar shit," Lovino says. "But tomatoes are a whole other story. Tomatoes are the fucking best." Lovino quickly reminds, "But don't you dare call me a tomato again!"
Antonio laughs loudly. He had never met anyone who spoke with such serious passion about tomatoes.
"I love tomatoes, too!" Antonio responds.
"Is that right? That makes you a little better, bastard." Lovino says with a slight smirk on his lips.
They walk a little further down the cape. Lovino watches the waters churn and slosh against the cliff.
"Hey, you can shout anything you want!"
"Huh?" Lovino turns to Antonio.
"You know! Yell into the ocean! Whatever you want to say!"
Lovino likes the sound of that idea. After thinking momentarily of what to say, he runs to the edge, cups his hands around his mouth and yells, "SUCK MY BALLS, HUMPHREY DAVY SECONDARY SCHOOL! I'M FINALLY FREE!"
The message is swallowed up by the sound of the waves crashing.
"Wow, you really didn't like the school that much?" Antonio says.
"God, you wouldn't believe it." Lovino snickers a little. "This crap town, too. I'm going to get out of here as soon as I can."
"It's nice here," Antonio simply states, staring into the ocean.
"Come on, your turn." Lovino gives Antonio a poke on the arm.
"Okay," he perks up, and then shouts loudly, "GRACIAS MUCHOOOOS!"
"What was that for?"
Antonio shrugs. "I felt like saying it."
"Weirdo."
They settle on a spot on the cliff overlooking the frothing ocean waves. Antonio lies on his back and Lovino does the same.
They gaze up towards the twinkling lights together. After a long silence, Antonio sits up.
"I almost forgot! Do you need to get home soon?"
"Nope…" Lovino answers. "I live alone. I can come and go as I please."
"Oh, "Antonio stares at Lovino for a moment, and then lies back down. "Me too."
Curiosity fills Lovino's mind. He wants to ask him.
"Say… you're from Spain. So why did you decide to come to England?" Lovino says slowly.
"Oh! Well," Spain shifts himself so the back of his head is resting on his hands. "Ever since I was young, I have always wanted to travel the world and meet lots of people! And in order to do that, I would need to overcome the language barrier! I've already got Spanish, so I thought, alright, then I'll go to England to study English! And that's what I did."
Lovino smiles. He sounds like a child talking about his dream; he's so cheerful and optimistic about it.
"I've got a little bit of French and German, too. Francis and Gilbert have been teaching me."
Antonio turns his head toward Lovino. "And now you can teach me Italian, too!"
"Stupid," Lovino chuckles. "Who said I'll teach you Italian?"
"Haha! Come on, Lovino!"
"Alright, here's something. Vaffanculo, bastardo!"
Antonio laughs. "Be serious about this, Lovi!"
"Lovi? You're going to call me Lovi? Since when were you allowed to call me Lovi?" Lovino turns towards the laughing Spaniard.
"Either that or Lovinito!" Antonio grins.
"God, no,"
"Pick one! Or it's going to be tomato~"
"Oh, hell, you did not. Fine, then you'll be bastardo."
...
"Okay, then. How about next year? What will life be like for you next year?" Lovino suggests.
Antonio turns to Lovino, and then looks back up at the stars thoughtfully.
"Actually, even for next year, I have no idea." He admits.
"Seriously?"
"Yeah… I'm just going to let life happen. You know, carpe diem!"
Lovino rolls his eyes. "God, that's clichéd."
"Heh," Antonio chuckles lightly, then shifts his gaze to Lovino. "How about you?"
"Well, sure as hell, I'm getting out of this place. I've already applied to Camborne and Duchy, and some other places in Devon. I'm going to go into the arts - that's for certain."
"You like planning out your future, huh?"
"It's not like I particularly like it or something…" Lovino says. "It's just, I think of the future like a blank canvas. You can be anything! You can do everything you have always wanted to do! It's your chance to paint a beautiful life for yourself! But if you want the painting to turn out the way you want, you have to plan it properly."
Antonio smiles. "But sometimes, things don't go as planned, and a painting can still turn out beautifully."
The truth of his words brings a small smile to Lovino's face.
"Just like life," Antonio adds.
"Yeah… just like life." Lovino agrees.
"Like today."
Lovino looks over at Antonio, who is smiling back at him.
"I don't know how everything happened this way, but I'm really glad I met you, Lovino."
Green eyes stare into amber eyes, and after a brief moment of hesitation, Lovino tells him the most honest and genuine thing that comes to his mind:
"I'm glad I met you, too, bastard."
Translations: (in case anyone needs it!)
*I just got these from the internet, so if they need any fixing, it'd be wonderful if you could point it out n_n
Nonna – grandmother
Stronzo – asshole
Lo siento – sorry
Gracias muchos – thank you very much
Vaffanculo, bastardo – fuck you, bastard