AN: For Sunni, as always.
There may be a prequel to this.
I'll always be there for you. I promise.
The bastard told me that time after time after time. He told me he'd always be there for me. So why am I sitting here at his funeral, pretending we were just friends, pretending he didn't say those words? Why are we not sitting at my house, doing homework?
Why am I pretending that when his parents said something about him 'never getting to marry a beautiful Spanish woman' didn't make me want to go up there and scream "Yeah. Guess what? Your son was fucking gay. Your son and I? We were fucking. Oh. And I'm Italian. Not Spanish. So suck it." But I couldn't, I couldn't make his parents hate him the way they hated me. I couldn't.
"Why do you hang around that Vargas boy, Antonio? You know, I think he's gaywhat if he tries to make you be like him?" when the truth was Antonio was the one who made me realize I was gay. I dated girls before him. Then when he came into my class, speaking with his Spanish accent, I hated him instantly. But the fucker grew on me, he grew on me so much that we were nearly inseparable. He had me hang out at his house all the time, despite his parents telling him how much they hated me.
I more liked the times when he came over. Nonno didn't care, and knew that we were together. He actually liked Antonio. Probably more than I did half the time. He was never allowed to stay over, because of his parents though. But when he did spend most the day with me, it was kind of awesome. Usually it was just watching movies or something, but it was nicer than spending time with my fratello and his stupid bastard of a fucking boyfriend.
I hadn't cried yet. Not in the days following the accident, not now at the funeral. I may never cry. Feliciano was sitting next to me, clutching my hand, bawling, but I couldn't. I couldn't cry.
I was more angry than anything. How could he be so fucking stupid? He knows he can't drive well at night. He's not even supposed to drive at night. Why? Because he would do stupid fucking things like crash into a fucking tree. Fucking moron.
His parents were still up there talking. They were talking about how he just got an acceptance letter to the college that day….The College we applied to together. It was across the country…Oh. He must've been on his way to my house to tell me. So it's my fault. It's my fucking fault he's dead.
I shouldn't have pressured him into applying. He wasn't even going to fucking go to college. Why the hell did I do this to him?
I just wanted to be with him. But we had to live on campus. And his parents weren't going to let him leave if he wasn't going to go to college.
But now he wasn't going to go to college. He's dead. He's dead. Antonio is dead. My fucking boyfriend is dead.
Some of his other friends and family members talked about him. His love for tomatoes and how he seriously considered becoming a tomato farmer, his love for sports, but every so often someone would mention him never getting married to a woman a Spanish woman. Even his 'girlfriend' before me talked. His girlfriend that was a cover, though she never knew, but I knew what she was.
My brother even got up to talk. Talked about his 'Big Brother' Antonio and how much fun they had together, cooking and singing. He talked about how Antonio tried to teach him Spanish, and we tried to teach Toni Italian.
Suddenly I felt eyes on me. It was my turn. I was even asked to talk. I don't know why, his parents hated me. They must've known he was watching.
I got up, shakily, I stared at the wall of the beautiful Catholic church we were in. It was about to come out. Everything we hid for so long.
I couldn't hold it in anymore.
"I loved Toni. He was a fucking moron. But I loved him. He taught me to let go. He made me smile at times no one else could. More than anyone else could. I loved him more than I have ever loved anything. And he loved me back. We were in love. He was my boyfriend. I don't care if you hate me or if you blame me because I know. I know that he loved me. He loved me even though you hated me. And I didn't turn him gay. He helped me realize who I was. Antonio, the stupid bastard…He made me realize who I was. He helped me become who I am. He was better than any of you could ever possibly fucking think of being."
I turned to his coffin, where he was laying, looking almost sleep-like. But he didn't have his sleepy smile, that I knew he had. So I knew he wasn't sleeping. I said a quick prayer in my head, mumbled "Ti amo" before running out of the church, not before noticing the horrible, dirty looks his family were giving me, the ones that screamed "I wish it was you instead of him. I fell to the ground sobbing immediately after walking out of the church.
For the first time in a week I was sobbing.
I didn't know if I could live without him. I didn't want to live without him. But I knew I had to. I knew he wanted me to.
Fin
AN: It is unbelievably hard for me to write dead!Spain.
My gosh.
Ironically, I'm a Spain RPer, but I always write in Romano's POV.