The air blew through Lovino's hair as he gazed out across the city of Madrid, Spain. He sat on a chair on the roof of an apartment, observing the life below.
He'd always loved this particular spot in the city, where he could feel the culture and people, and, most importantly, him. Spain, Antonio- whatever the bastard wanted to be called. It was one place where Lovino could safe.
His eyes flickered down to the sidewalk below, watching people walk and talk, going into shops and buying things from street vendors. Joyous Spanish music floated through the street. The smells wafted into his nose and he deeply inhaled, thinking of all the times Antonio cooked for him. It wasn't pizza, but it was always wonderful.
Just by thinking of Antonio, he seemed to appear. Lovino spotted him in the crowd (which he was easily able to do, even from a height, due to the Spaniard's immense good looks).
While it was easy to see Antonio, it was much more difficult to see the person he was leading through the mass of people, weaving in between individuals and couples.
When Lovino finally saw who it was, his breath hitched. It was his younger fucking brother. Antonio guided Feliciano up the sidewalk by the hand, occasionally glancing back at his fratellino with love and joy.
"Oi!" Lovino called down to the pair as they were passing the building. "Bastardo!"
They kept on going, but Lovino swore that he could see the Spaniard shoot a quick smirk up to the older Italian.
Why the fuck are they ignoring me? Lovino wondered irritatedly, his temper rising, as he made his way to the staircase and down to the lower level of the building, angrily bursting out the front door into the busy sidewalk.
He scanned his surroundings for the duo, rudely pushing past people, his eyes searching almost desperately. They seemed to have disappeared into the crowd. His heart pounded. Why is he with Feliciano? Why is he with Feliciano?
Finally, he spied the two sitting at an outdoor cafe, holding hands over the table and smiling. When he approached, Antonio must have just said something very funny because Feliciano was giggling madly and Antonio had a rather large grin on his face.
"What the hell is going on here?" Lovino asked very confrontationally. The Spaniard sighed heavily and looked up at him.
"What do you want, Romano?" he asked in a very annoyed voice. Lovino stood, shell-shocked. Romano? Since when did Antonio call him that?
"Yeah, fratello," Feliciano said with an uncharacteristically smug look on his face. "What are you doing here?"
"Wh-what are you doing?" Lovino asked, stuttering. "Why are you holding hands like some f-fucking lovebirds?"
Antonio rolled his eyes with an irritated expression. "Because we're on a date," he said sharply. "Now leave us alone, Romano. We don't want you here.
The Italian trembled where he stood. "Wha-What about us?"
The Spaniard stood up slowly, very exasperated. "There is no us. I dumped your sorry ass a while ago, remember?"
Lovino said nothing, perplexed. Antonio hadn't left him, had he?
"Wh-Why?" he asked, shaking in both anger and fear.
"Because," his younger brother butted in. "You're a pain in the neck, brother. He wanted me."
"L-Liar."
"No, Romano," Spain interjected. "Mi amor is perfectly right." He glanced back at Feliciano with a loving expression in his eyes. He looked to Lovino again, but with no fondness or care. "Your brother is better than you in every way. He's cuter, sweeter, more talented, and very romántico. Compared to him, you're nothing."
The words resounded in his head, crashing into the sides of his skull with such a powerful force. It was what he had been told his whole life- you're not good enough, you're pathetic, you're so goddamn grouchy all the time, you're useless, you're nothing. Nothing.
And they were right. Feliciano was right. And Antonio was right,
But, still… Antonio loved him… he had said so.
As if reading his mind, the Spaniard told him in a voice that stabbed daggers into his aching heart, "I never loved you."
Apart of Lovino's mind told him sternly, he had always wanted to trade you for your brother- now I guess he got what he wanted.
Antonio watched with no sympathy as hot tears fell down the Italian's eyes. "Come on, Feli," he said, almost sneeringly, grabbing Feliciano's hand and pulling him up. "Let's go dance."
Merciless green eyes met despairing hazel ones as the former smirked. "After all," he drawled. "Romano never wanted to dance with me anyway."
Lovino shot up in bed with a panicked cry. He thrashed about, as he tried to take in his surroundings. Once he realized where he was, he stopped, breathing heavily, his heart racing.
It was just a dream.
He sat up on the mattress, tears streaming down his face while his body racked with silent sobs. He couldn't seem to stop them, so he pulled a pillow to his chest, burying his face in it to try to prevent a certain nation lying next to him from waking. But it was too late.
"Lovino?" Antonio yawned groggily, slowly shifting up. "Lovino, what's wrong?"
"I-It's nothing, damn it!" Lovino replied, alarmed and embarrassed. "Go back to sleep, you bastard."
The Spaniard got a concerned look on his face as he sat up too. "What is it?" he insisted. "Did you have a nightmare?"
"N-No!" Lovino lied, stuttering. "I'm fine. Leave me alone."
"You're obviously not fine, tomate," he said, snaking his arms around Lovino's bare waist. The action was familiar and comforting to the Italian, but he pulled away, moving to sit at the edge of the bed, legs dangling off the mattress, as he furiously tried to wipe tears away.
"I said it was nothing, Spain!" Lovino spat back. Antonio seemed taken aback at the use of his country name.
"Tell me," he pleaded, a bit of hurt in his voice. "Please, mi amor."
Lovino shuddered at that name, reminded of the horrible dream where Antonio hated him and loved his brother instead.
Or was it only a dream?
In a moment of weakness, Lovino let his thoughts slip out to the Spaniard. "D-Do you really love me, Antonio?"
"¿Que?" Antonio asked, sounding astonished. "Of course I love you. Dios, te amo. Why would you think otherwise?"
"A-And what about my little brother?" Lovino asked, his voice shaky.
"This is about Feliciano?" he inquired.
Lovino hesitated and then said, "You wanted to trade me for him. Is that still true?"
He heard Antonio sigh behind him. He was silent for a while as Lovino squeezed the pillow in a deathlock. He suddenly felt the Spaniard's strong, tanned arms around him once again. "A day doesn't go by when I don't regret that, Lovi. I was stupid then. I didn't know what I wanted. I do now. I wouldn't trade you for the world, mi amor."
"Y-You mean it?"
"Of course."
"G-Good," Lovino said shakily. "Ti amo, you stupid tomato bastard."
"I love you too, mi tomate," Antonio replied, pulling the Italian onto his lap and turning him to face the Spaniard.
Gently, he kissed the tears away, lips brushing against each cheek, the tip of his nose, and finally, his lips.
Lovino moaned into the Spaniard's mouth so, so relieved that he is wanted. So happy that he is loved.
Eventually, they laid back down, Lovino snuggling into Antonio's warm, muscular chest. They stayed like that for a bit, exchanging kisses and cuddling under the covers.
After a while of feeling the most secure he's felt for what seemed like forever, Lovino got the courage to ask something that he'd had on his mind since the dream.
"A-Antonio?" he asked shyly.
"Yeah?" Antonio whispered back softly.
"Never mind," Lovino said, blushing.
The Spaniard's green eyes opened, meeting the hazel eyes with love and warmth. "Tell me, mi amor."
"Fine, bastardo," the Italian sighed. "Can- Can we dance?"
Antonio hesitated, seemingly unsure of what to say. "Right now?"
"No," Lovino grumbled, rolling his eyes. "Just... sometime?"
"Sure!" Antonio replied, smiling brightly at his tomato, whose cheeks now really resembled the said food. "Anything for you."
Lovino blushed even more.
The Spaniard looked curious. "But why?" he asked. "I thought you hated dancing."
It probably seemed that way. Whenever Antonio asked him to dance, the Italian always turned bright red, pulled away, and flung insults and excuses.
"I- I just…" Lovino stammered.
"Yes?" he pressed.
"I was just too shy to dance with you," he admitted. "I was afraid I'd make an idiota out of myself. I'm so terrible at dancing and you, you're so… good at it. But I want to- I want to make an effort to now."
"Okay, mi tomate," Antonio replied, gently caressing his face. "But, for now, we should sleep. It's late."
"Okay," Lovino agreed, snuggling deeper into the bed and closing his heavy hazel eyes. "Buena notte."
Antonio wrapped his arm around the Italian. "Buenos noches."
And Lovino fell into a sweet sleep, undisturbed by the haunting nightmares that his Antonio had drove away.
So, yeah. I had a lot of Spamano feels today, so there's that for ya.
Here are some translations. I got the phrases from some basic language knowledge and… *gasp* Google Translate:
mi amor- my love
romántico- romantic
mi tomate- my tomato (Weird? Kinda…)
Dios, te amo- God, I love you
ti amo- I love you
que- what
bastardo- bastard (pretty obvious…)
idiota- idiot (duh…)
buena notte- good night
buenos noches- good night
Anyway, sorry for any OOCness. I'm new to this Hetalia fanfiction writing thing.
Yup… thanks for reading! Don't forget to review (I love feedback!) and check out some of my other stuff!
Peace, Love, and Churros,
~27lablover