AN: Hi guys! This is my first fanfiction. I hope you enjoy it! Don't be afraid to drop a review in that pretty lil' box below.
He was the epitome of physical beauty. His skin was soft caramel. His hair held perfect curls that looped around his ears and danced joyously over his scalp. His name ringed out the beauty all would see in him. Antonio. An-to-ni-o. Four syllables that fell delicately from one's lips and ending in the sound most women-and many men-found themselves muttering when they would first spy his stunning form.
His voice, like warm brie poured over the frontal lobe, dulled any reasoning that one's mind might have presented against completing any task he asked. Whether it graced the English language or Spanish, all who would heed it were enraptured by it.
All but one.
Only one man in the expanse of the whole kingdom was able to say 'No' to the beguiling male. This man himself was a beauty, although he denied it; he denied it furiously. Most of his life, this man was compared to his charming, tender, and unripe younger brother who seemed like the embodiment of innocence to their caregiver and all living in the kingdom. But only his elder brother knew the tainted soul that thrived on this trickery.
This one man, the only living being in the whole sovereignty able to refuse Antonio, was named Lovino. This name of his was not a happy one. Mistakenly named, by his dear mother, after the word Rovino , the first-person singular present indicative of Rovinare, or 'to ruin, to wreck, he certainly seemed to live up to his unfortunate name. All throughout his childhood, he managed to break any object that could crash to the ground and shatter, all on accident, of course.
He would desperately try to please his mother and father by cleaning their humble home that was situated above the small tailor shop owned by his grandfather. With every attempt to sweep or dust, the broom handle that was forever too long for his small body, or his awkwardly growing and lanky arms, would bump a precious family object, sending it cascading to the ground. After successfully destroying all but one of their many breakable items, Lovino gave up cleaning, leaving all of the work in his brother's more than capable hands.
Lovino grew up tall and angular with long, nimble fingers that he used when sewing intricate patterns and laces on clothing that he himself would never be able to afford. He began devoting himself to his father's former job along-side his old grandfather after his parents passed away due to fever. He did so to help support his brother's dream of painting for the nobles, or even the king and queen themselves.
He aged quietly but had an anger that was kin to the roar of a tempest. His harsh temper and shameful language was something that most in the commonwealth tried to avoid. This drove away many costumers from their small shop but they always kept a steady flow of wealthy nobles that they were never desperate for money.
In this small shop was where Antonio, a noble in the Land of Alekzandra, first met Lovino. He walked into the shop, leaving the two strong men who accompanied him, with a bright smile. His dear friend, Francis, only child of the King and Queen of Alekzandra, was to have his fifteenth birthday celebration in three weeks thence, and Antonio had decided that he wanted to try out a new tailor for his attire.
As he entered, his bright smile was met with a hazel-eyed scowl plastered the lean face of a boy just sprouting into a full grown body. The young Antonio walked up to the thirteen-year old that was once sitting behind the main counter, only to have finally stood when Antonio walked passed the frame of the door.
"Are you the owner of this establishment," Antonio asked with humor lacing his voice, placing his palms on the counter.
"No," Lovino all but hissed at the amusement in his tone, "My grandfather is. I'll get him." The boy walked hastelessly up the stairs to fetch his ancestor. Antonio watched the boy's retreating figure with slight surprise in his eyes. Not once in his overly posh life had anyone spoken to him with anything but respect and fear intertwined in their voices. This boy, however, held malice in his intonation. Malice and disgust.
What had he done to earn the bitterness that was thrown at him by that boy, Antonio thought to himself with an unfamiliar frown as he was greeted by the older smiling face of Roma, Lovino and Feliciano's grandfather and shop owner. This smile was a tired but happy one set on a face that showed age and loss. His golden eyes shone like his smile with a wisdom that only the experienced seemed to hold.
"Hello, sir," he voiced with warmth, "How may I help you?" Antonio returned his smile with a stunner of his own. He placed one of his opened palms on the back of the other, standing very officially.
"A very important friend of mine is having a name day celebration in three weeks. I wish for your services in the making my costume for such event. It must be something extravagant," Antonio waved a hand, "and the price is of no issue, only time." Roma's smile widened and he clapped his skilled hands together.
"I'm very glad you decided to choose my humble shop, Mr. Carriedo," he stated with joy. "We can get started with your measurements right away if haste is necessary." Antonio nodded and followed the elder man.
All throughout this exchange, young Lovino watched silently from his crouched position at the top of the stairs. "Damn spoiled noble-bastard," he whispered quietly, "'the price is of no issue.' Neeh. The price is always an issue for the rest of us." He scoffed at Antonio as he and Roma walked behind one of the curtains, the indignant noise poofing through his nose. Once they disappeared behind the curtain, he straitened up and walked to the tiny kitchen to help his brother fix lunch, trying desperately to wipe his cheeks clean of the red staining them.