Hello!
So this story idea just kinda hit me one day, and suddenly 3,000 words had appeared. I wanted to post it earlier, but college is a parasite and consumes too much of my energy and time. Then I lost my muse to write anything over my semester break... And now I've finally finished it and decided to post it!
Anyway, it's a spamano one-shot with mentions of GerIta
Warnings: Swearing (you should expect this), depression, low self-esteem/self-worth, boy-boy, etc. Um, may have slight triggering possibilities, possibly?..
I do not own Hetalia
Love.
It is often used when it should not,
Passion, Lust, Attraction, Possessiveness, Affluence
A word thrown into the world at every chance,
A word overused and abused.
A word misunderstood.
Love.
Withheld like a punishment
Even scorned by some.
It's not Greed, Envy, Charm, or Wealth,
You cannot own it,
But you can give and receive it.
Love.
A powerful, majestic word.
A word some people never
have the joy to hear,
the joy to know.
The rain pelts down hard as he races through the street, mud and car-polluted puddles spraying up with every fall of his fleeing feet.
He could barely see a thing and relies purely on instinct to lead him and avoid getting hit by a car. Not that he would care. If he got hit he would pass out—become enveloped in the sweet black nothingness of unconsciousness. Then he would wake up in some hospital, be told he was lucky to be uninjured, and be allowed to go home.
Except he couldn't go home.
Not after what happened.
Not after what his stupid brother said to him.
His brother chose to abandon him; to side with that fucking potato bastard.
A sob racks through his body as he slips and lands face first in the mud. He had somehow made it to the house without injury, the soft light that seeps through the windows bathed over him.
Without even thinking, Lovino had ran to Antonio's home.
The drenched and broken Country limps up to the door, just now realizing how sore and tired he was, and quietly knocks. The lights were on, so he had to be home…right?
Shivering, Lovino knocks a little louder and then wraps his arms around his thin, trembling body.
After what seems like hours, the front door finally opens and a sleepy Spaniard is reveal. His green eyes fly open to the size of softballs.
"Lovi?! Aye de me! It's the middle of the night and you are soaking wet, ¿qué pasó? ¿Estás bien?" The mother hen rambles, reaching for the other.
Instead of resisting, the traumatized Italian leans in and buries his head in Antonio's chest, his hands tightly gripping the pajama fabric covering his back as he begins to cry again.
Antonio gently wraps one arm around him, shutting the door with the other and leading the poor brunet deeper into his house.
Slowly calming down, the Italian relaxes his hold on the other man but remains quiet, still lightly gripping the other. Antonio leads them to a bathroom and begin to fill the bath tub up with warm water.
"Come on Lovi" he murmurs, gently rubbing the other male's back. "We have to get you out of those clothes and warm you up. You'll feel better after, alright?
He receives a numb nod in response, but nothing else. Sighing, he carefully peels the wet shirt off of Lovino. At any other time Antonio might have stopped to admire how well the article of clothing showed off the sexy Italian, but not when he was so quiet and upset. The shirt falls to the floor with a heavy plop and the Spaniard turns his attention to the stiff pants.
"Cariño, you have to help me out here" he chides gently, not wanting to further invade Lovino's personal space. Sighing deeply when no response was given, the Spaniard carefully removes the drenched pants, leaving Lovino in only his (tomato print) underwear.
Turning off the faucet, the Italian finally seems to fall back to reality and murmur a small 'thank you.'
Turning around, Antonio waits until he hears Lovino safely settle in the tub before scooping up the ruined clothing and starting off towards his room.
Or he was, until he hears a vulnerable "are you leaving me?" from the tub's occupant.
"¿Qué? No Lovi I…" he trails off as he caught sight of the Italian: lips slightly parted and trembling; knees pressed to his chest; arms wrapped tightly around his body; amber eyes dull with exhaustion yet brimmed with fear.
It broke Antonio's heart, yet at the same time enraged him. Who had done this to his little tomato?
He sinks beside the tub and gently places a hand on the other's hair. "I have to go but I will be right back. I need to find you warm clothes to wear. I promise to come right back, vale? Yo nunca te dejaría."
There was a long pause, as if Lovino was deciding whether or not to believe the other man. Finally he nods and sinks further into the tub without another word.
The curly-haired brunet quickly exits the bathroom and jogs into his room, stripping out of his damp sleeping shirt before throwing all the waterlogged clothes into the hamper. Slipping another shirt on, the Spaniard grabs an older t-shirt, sweatpants, and a clean pair of boxers (with little sea turtles on them) for Lovino.
Fast as a falling falcon, Antonio is back in the bathroom to deposit the supplies and pull out a thick, fluffy red towel.
"I'm going to be right outside the door, Lovi. Dry off, get dressed, and tell me when you're done, okay?"
"Okay."
His reply was quiet and impassive.
'What could have happened…?' Antonio ponders as he exits the bathroom. 'I can't remember the last time Lovi was like this… I just can't imagine…' a low growl found its way from his throat, 'When I figure out who did this to Lovi I'll… I'll kill them.'
The door beside him slowly creaks open, revealing the person of his thoughts and current worries. His beautiful eyes are focused on the ground, tremors still running through his body.
Without a single spoken word, Antonio takes the hand of his beloved and leads him to the guest room. He gently settles Lovino onto the bed before sitting down himself.
At last he asks, "What happened, Lovi?"
Shattered amber slowly met concerned olive. The gaze holds for a few seconds before Lovino brakes it to lean on the other nation.
"Feliciano's moving out" he finally admits, breaking down yet again with a sob. "With that f-fucking potato bastard." He hiccups and grips the shocked Spaniard. "He's… he's abandoning me, dammit! He picked that fucker over m-me! He…he…" another coarse sob erupts from his mouth.
Antonio feels his anger dissipate, understanding the most important part of the situation—the part that was actually upsetting Lovino. He begin to comb his fingers through the distressed man's hair, quietly murmuring in an attempt to calm the other.
But the Italian continues his crying, his head buried in Antonio's chest, and continues to question his brother's actions. Why would his brother leave him for someone like that German? Was he not good enough? Why? Why?!
After another half hour of sobbing, rocking, hiccupping, whispering, and rubbing, he finally succumbs to his exhaustion. Lying atop Antonio, tucked safely against his broad chest and secured by one of the tanned Spanish arms, the lonely half-nation finally falls asleep.
The still conscious male feels his heart tear as he looks down at his slumbering companion. Slowly Antonio brings his free hand up to caress the side of Lovino's face before gently fingering through the soft brown hair.
"Mi pobre tomatito… if only you knew how Feli felt…how much he loves both you and Ludwig, and how hard the decision must have been for him…" he murmurs, pressing his mouth to the Italian's forehead.
The tender moment gets interrupted by a vibrating phone in Antonio's pocket. Carefully as to not awaken his sleeping beauty, he clicks 'answer' and holds the device up to his ear.
"Álo?" He whispers, keeping a wary eye on Lovino in case he would awaken.
"Ciao Tonio, is…is fratello at your place?"
Antonio sighs, "Sí, he's sleeping now but… he wasn't good earlier. I don't remember ever seeing him that upset…"
"Ve… I didn't want to hurt him like that by telling him suddenly, but I was frustrated. He probably hates me now…"
"No, he loves you Feli. He just… can't wrap his mind around the thought of you moving out. Hah…he is definitely closer to you than he is to me…"
There's a pause, then a sigh is heard from the other line.
"I know it doesn't seem like it, but he likes you Tonio. He trusts you, which is why he went to you for comfort. I don't think he'll want to talk to me for a while…after what I did. Will you take care of him for a few days, Tonio? Per favore? Until he stops being so sad?"
While that might be true, Lovino never liked spending too much time with the Spaniard. What if Antonio couldn't handle cheering his tomate up?
"I… I don't know Feli. He-"
"Please Tonio? You know how to handle him, and I… don't know if I can right now, with Luddy and everything… fratello really hates him, but I love him so much, and…"
Another sigh is heard, deeper and filled with more emotion than the last.
"I'm sure he'll come around to accept you and Ludwig. But I… I'll watch over him until then, okay?"
"…Grazie, Antonio. I know it must be hard for you, because you love him as much as I love Luddy but… ve, thank you. I know you'll take good care of fratello." Beep
With that, his call with Feliciano ends and Antonio pulls Lovino even closer, pushing his nose into that soft, brown hair with a heavy sigh.
"Oh Lovi… what am I going to do…"
He loves him so much, yet knows Lovino doesn't feel the same way.
And he would rather suffer silently than lose his querido forever.
He places a sweet kiss between Lovino's eyes before allowing sleep to finally overtake him.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
He gently twists the last ripe tomato off of the plant and places it in his basket, the afternoon sun beats strongly against his bare back. He wipes the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand and stretches, sighing contently as his back gives a relieved crack.
Shifting through his bounty he counts each vegetable. He's harvested a lot of different tomatoes, a few zucchini, sugar beets, and cucumbers.
He still has to check the olive trees, but that could wait until later that evening. He also needed to remind his brother to dig up the stupid potatoes in his garden.
Lovino sighs. It was beyond him how his stupid brother could stomach that crap. Potatoes were nasty.
Picking up the swelling basket, the Italian nation starts back up the dirt path towards the house he shares with his brother, Feliciano.
Kicking open the back door he sets the vegetables on the kitchen table before picking his shirt up off a chair and pulling it back over his thin, muscular frame.
"Veneziano, where the hell are you?" he calls into the house, "I swear if you went back to sleep, I'll punch you."
An hour had passed in the garden, so it was entirely possible that the younger nation had gone back to sleep.
Lovino stomps off towards Feli's room, a scowl forming on his face. "Oi, Venezia…no…"
He had opened Feliciano's bedroom door to a revolting scene.
Germany was on top of his brother.
They were kissing.
Feliciano's arms were around Ludwig's neck.
The potato bastards fucking hand was in Feli's shirt.
It was like Vesuvius all over again; all hell broke loose.
"Get away from my brother you fucker!"
Both guilty parties jolt and quickly unwind themselves from one another, Ludwig blushing heavily with Feliciano looking oddly annoyed.
Lovino doesn't notice, though, since his murderous glare fixed itself on the German. One foot after another he stalks up to the blond. "The fuck do you think you're doing in my house?" he snarls..
"Lovi it isn't his fault, I'm the one who-"
"Shut up! I don't fucking care, you aren't that stupid fucking potato bastard. It's his fault! He did this to you." The fuming Italian growls, poking at Ludwig's chest.
"Lovi don't touch h-"
"Seriously, who the fuck do you think you are? You think you're so fucking mighty 'cause of all your muscles?"
Another jab to the chest.
"Lovino please sto-"
"I don't want you anywhere near by brother-"
"Fratello!-"
"-And I forbid you from entering my fucking house agai-"
"Romano stop!" Feliciano finally cries, forcing his way between Ludwig and Lovino before shoving the latter away. "Stop being mean to Ludwig! I love him and I was enjoying what he was doing to me! Just leave him alone!"
It takes Lovino a few moments to get over the force of his brother's shove. "Dammit Veneziano! I don't like him stinking up my house with his potato funk-"
"You're being really mean to him fratel-"
"I don't fucking care! I don't want him in my fucking house!"
"Well you won't have to worry about that anymore because I'm moving in with him!" Feliciano finally screams, tears beginning to roll down his cheeks.
Everything becomes quite; the seconds seem to drag by.
"Feli…" Ludwig finally speaks, gently touching his Italian's shoulder.
Lovino, on the other hand, stand shock-still as all the color drained from his face. "Y…you… Vene…ziano…"
His voice fails, his body is trembling. His brother was not only siding with Ludwig, but also abandoning him…?
"I'm sorry fratello, I wanted to—h-hey, wait!" Feliciano calls out as his brother bolted. "L-Lovino, please wait!"
He doesn't stop though, instead he shoves the door open and runs out into the darkening night as the rain starts to patter against the pavement.
He was outside, yet didn't feel the cold. Warmth wove around him like an embrace. He felt safe; he felt like his brother hadn't just left him; he felt loved.
Lovino cracks open his eyes, mind slowly awakening until he could piece together why he feels so secure and comfortable.
His head was resting against a strong chest that slowly moved up and down, bringing oxygen in and carbon dioxide out.
The heart beneath his ear beat calmly in a definite pattern—never wavering and always predictable.
And then there was the arm wrapped loosely around his waist, anchoring the Italian in place as he slept.
The thought of how comfortable he is makes Lovino extremely nervous. Hesitantly he tilts his head up to look at the owner of the chest, heartbeat, and arm.
Antonio.
The personified nation of Spain.
The man who raised Lovino; who cared about him and was always there for him.
The man who makes his heart race, yet at the same time causes terror to bloom throughout his body.
The man who looks beautiful while sleeping: face relaxed and peaceful, eyes closed, lips parted with a small smile gracing them.
Lovino shifts slightly and begin to bring an arm up to Antonio's face before he hesitates, hand stopping just above the other's forehead. What was he about to do? Caress the Spaniard's face? Where the hell did that come from?
The trembling arm retreats and a shiver runs through the Italian's body, instinctively moving closer to the nearby body heat. Which then trips the automatic response for Antonio to tighten the arm around his waist, bringing him closer still.
His face flushes an even darker red as he watches Antonio's smile grow. How did they end up in this position?
Lovino only vaguely recalls last night. He had found Germany and his brother doing things, gotten pissed, got yelled at by Feliciano… he bites his lip and has to angrily force away the tears threatening to spill.
He remembers running out of the house after that. He ran all the way to Antonio's house… but things get fuzzy after that. The Spaniard had drawn him a bath and given him clothes to borrow, but after that Lovino remembers nothing.
His eyes widen when he finally finds the memories from the night before; a feeling of dread crawled up his spine. He had told Antonio everything; he had cried and sobbed and embarrassed himself in front of the other male.
And all he did was hold Lovino. Antonio waited until he calmed down and held him as he fell asleep. Then Antonio stayed with him through the night, cradling him against his body. Protecting him from his fears and worries.
Throat suddenly dry, he swallows thickly in vain. He was so weak, dragging Antonio into his problems; forcing the other to care for him; invading the other's home; taking advantage of his kindness.
So Lovino decided to do what he did best besides cursing: he flees.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
Sunlight filters brightly through the windows a few hours after Lovino's awakening, poking and prodding at the still slumbering man's cornea. A loud groan sounds and he turns his back on the intrusion before slowly squinting open his eyes.
He blinks and quickly focuses on the nearby wall—the light blue he sees is very different from the dark red of his bedroom walls. Yet the color wasn't unfamiliar.
The gears in his sleep-muddled brain turns until he finally figures it out: Antonio had slept in his guest room.
He bolts upright after his moment of brilliance once he also remembers why he had slept in here. He looks to his right and his brilliant green eyes widen.
His Italian was missing.
Rolling off the bed the Spaniard quickly trots towards the bathroom before venturing downstairs to the kitchen, searching.
All the rooms were empty.
"Lovino?" he calls out, listening intently for any form of response.
There was none.
His tomato had disappeared. Worry sparks within Antonio's mind and rapidly spreads throughout his body. After what happened last night, Lovino should not be alone. He had promised Feliciano he would watch over the other until he had calmed down.
Yet the Spaniard already managed to lose him.
But, where could Lovino have gone? He claimed he was unable to go home, and he didn't have that many friends…
Antonio forcibly fills his lungs with air and focuses on relaxing with the exhale. His Italian was fine; as a child he would often run off on his own, but he never ventured too far from the Spaniard's home.
He just had to think logically to figure out where the Italian had gone.
…that shouldn't be too hard, right?
Love.
A strong, pure word.
When you truly love someone,
you would cry for them, break laws for them,
even die for them.
Sacrifice everything and anything.
No emotion is stronger or more pure.
Friends, Family, Lovers…
Their happiness is your happiness.
Their joy is your joy.
Nothing in life is sweeter then love.
For once, the Spanish nation's logic was correct.
At first, Lovino had every intention of leaving the property and going somewhere else. As he meandered around Antonio's large property, however, that urge faded and a desire to stay near the Spaniard took its place.
He really doesn't want to be alone. A large part of him wishes Antonio would come find him, but the strong, stubborn part of him blatantly ignores that hope.
So, the last few hours had been spent on the land that Lovino knew like the back of his tanned hand. The small woodlands, the fields, and of course the vast gardens. At least three times the size of his, Antonio had almost everything—including groves of fruit trees and hundreds of tomato plants.
The plump red fruits did little to raise his spirit, though, so he spent most of his time with downcast eyes, distracted by the thoughts whirling in his brain.
The sun was slowly climbing higher into the clear blue sky. His borrowed clothes were caked in mud and sweat but he pays no mind to it.
He just can't figure it out. Why does the Spaniard waste time on him? Lovino's worthless, really; he just takes up space and consumes resources that could be used elsewhere.
Romano the leech.
That's really all he is. A parasite. Something that no one wants yet can't easily get rid of, sucking life away from the unfortunate, damned victim.
His small body shake as another sob jumps from his throat. Hot, heavy tears leak from his eyes and cascade down his cheeks, slowly gaining momentum.
Vision blurs and he sink down onto his knees, the hot mud parting and adhering to the already ruined pants.
The tears get faster and the sobs become harder, his body violently shakes with every jagged breath.
Why can't he be loved, too? Why does he have to be so worthless, so hated?
He should just give up; the Italian wishes he could escape from it all and disappear, like his Grandfather. The bastard who, just like everyone else, had eyes only for Feliciano.
Lovino just wants this pain to go away.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOo
The hot sun pelts down mercilessly on the broken nation from its heavenly perch. He's so uncomfortable yet feels no desire to move and return to the luxury of air-conditioning. It doesn't really matter what he wants, though, because he's far too tired to even try and move.
His heart hurts with a deep aching of loneliness. His mouth is dry and his mind far away from the lack of water in the sweltering sun. His body is stiff and sore, the disgusting clothes are sticking to his body. His eyes are tired of leaking tears and his throat burns from the constant sobbing.
He wants the torment to end. He closes his eyes and wishes for relief.
"Lovino?"
A call muffled by distance reaches the Italian's ears. It causes his worn-out body to shiver and curl further in on itself in an attempt to hide. He keeps his eyes tightly shut in the hope of remaining unfound.
He doesn't want to bother Antonio any more than he already has. Yet, at the same time, a sense of hope begins to spread over his body, responding to the voice of the man searching for him.
Split right in half, Lovino can't decide whether he wants the Spaniard to succeed or fail in finding him.
The calling got louder and louder as the seeker got closer to his hiding spot. A few minutes later he's able to see tanned feet a few meters away, each step advancing towards the Italian.
The tension that built in Lovino suddenly disappears, though, as the feet go right past him and continue on.
He hadn't been found. A sob starts to work its way out of his mouth, but never make it; the abandoned man doesn't have enough strength to cry again.
Suddenly, something happens that leaves Lovino's mind spinning and causes pain to shoot throughout his body. Once it passes he can barely register the warm arms that are holding him tightly, the heat radiation from the body far hotter than the sun's own. He has been found.
"Mi pobre tomatito…" a soft voice murmurs, shifting the tired body in his possession closer.
The ground grows farther away as he's lifted, one arm tucks under his knees to support the weight, the other wraps around his shoulders, drawing the body towards a firm, broad chest.
"No puedo créerlo… ¿Qué hices, Lovi? Estás matándote…" the dazed Italian feels the pressure of a soft kiss on his forehead before feeling Antonio sigh against it. "Duérmete mi querido. Yo cuidaré a ti."
And then there's nothing but darkness.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
He presses the cold washcloth to the sleeping man's forehead and gently wipes away the sweat that had accumulated over the last few hours.
Antonio had stripped Lovino down to his boxers in an attempt to right the heatstroke and cool down the Italian's olive body. He wiped away all the grime, dust, and sweat already and was now focusing on the sleeping sunburned face.
Since waking up, all of Antonio's thoughts had revolved around Lovino—nothing else. He hadn't even eaten breakfast. His waking hours were spend doing a thorough search of his house before moving the quest to his spacious outside property.
Hours of searching paid off, and not a moment too soon from the looks of the Italian.
He pauses and puts the washcloth on the coffee table before gently tucking some chestnut hair behind horribly burnt ears.
A sigh escapes his lips the same time that a soft groan filteres from Lovino's parted lips. With another sigh he carefully drapes a blanket over his beloved and heads off towards the kitchen.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOo
Soft clangs emanates from the kitchen and echoes throughout the expansive house. Quiet humming also drifts from it into the adjacent room and, ultimately, to the ears of an Italian.
Lovino is lying on the Spaniard's old black couch, covered in a thick tan blanket, gazing at the ceiling. More or less staring off into space, his mind feels numb and his body is unresponsive.
After taking a few moments to gather strength he turns his head to the side, eyes slowly focus and recognize the glass of water and pile of new clothes on the coffee table.
With a strangled grunt, he manages to force his body into a sitting position before reaching out to grab the glass-
Only to pause and grab the clothes, working his way out of the blanket. He manages to get his stiff body to cooperate and carefully dresses himself before grasping the water glass and chugging it down. He feels his muscles relax as the cool water slides down his throat and settles in his empty stomach.
He uses his hands to push off the couch into an upright standing position and instantly regrets it. His head spins and he's forced to collapse back onto the lumpy piece of furniture as a wave of nausea rushes over him.
"No debes levantarte, mi tomatito."
The nausea suddenly spikes, completely immobilizing the Italian and causing his face to contort in pain.
He vaguely registers something that sounds like a sigh before a cool hand makes contact with his face, pacifying the pain and dulling the nausea.
"Estás bien, mi querido. Relájate, ¿vale?" The Spanish voice soothes. A sad smile was etched on his lips, one that makes Lovino's stomach turn cold and his heart ache because he knows he's the cause of it.
That smile is quickly replaced with a happy grin a moment later. "I made tomato soup, Lovi. I'll bring it to you, okay? Just rest until you feel better." Antonio then turns back towards the kitchen.
"Mi dispiace…" the Italian rasps, swallowing in an attempt to moisten his parched mouth. He's sure to keep his gaze averted, afraid to look at the other male.
He hears a quiet chuckle before feeling fingers curl gently around his chin, tilting it so his amber eyes met the clear jade of the Spaniard's.
"No need to apologize Lovi, I know how much yesterday upset you." Antonio murmurs, still gently holding Lovino's chin. The touch had short-circuited the Italian's brain, and it takes him a few minutes to process what Antonio was talking about.
'Oh' he realizes, pulling out of the others hold. Lovino can tell the older male is waiting for a response, but he couldn't think of one. After a few minutes the silence gets broken by a quiet gurgling, which prompts a chuckle from the Spaniard.
"Un momento, mi querido. I'll be right back con mi sopa de tomate."
And with that, Lovino is left alone while his ex-caretaker heads for the kitchen. He sits on the couch, mind blank, and can only wait for Antonio's return.
Not a minute later Antonio sets a bowl down on the table before he sits beside the spacey Italian and slowly moves him until he was positioned on the Spaniard's lap.
"W-what are you-"he cuts off as a single arm wraps around his waist and draws him closer so his back meets a warm chest. Despite the exhaustion, a weak blush blossoms across Lovino's cheeks. He watches as the other arm grabs the bowl and secures it in front of them.
"I'm helping you so you can eat of course, mi tomate" a voice breathes, causing hot air to curl around his neck. "I hold the bowl and you eat, ¿sí?"
The Italian feels his heart fluttering against his ribcage; his mind was fighting with his stomach over whether to be stubborn or accept Antonio's help.
It doesn't take very long for his stomach to win the argument. Plus, he found it really comfortable: leaning against the warm chest with an arm around his waist making him feel safe…
So he, with a shaky hand, Lovino grasps the spoon sticking out of the rich, steamy red soup. His body stiffens a moment later and frustration rushes through his body—he can barely lift the spoon in his weakened state. 'Worthl-'
A shock runs through his body, cutting off the negative thought. A hand larger than his own wraps around his, steadying the trembling spoon. Without a word it guides the soup to Lovino's lips and allows him to have a taste.
Lovino couldn't deny how good it felt, how right it felt, to have Antonio holding his hand; for his hand to be encased in the same warmth that his body was currently experiencing was blissful.
It wasn't fair, really—Feliciano gets to date the man he loves, but Lovino can't? Feliciano gets to be happy, but he can't? Feliciano makes Ludwig happy while Lovino… he's just a burden. His crush still sees him as a child that can't take care of himself. No matter how hard he tries to stay away, he always ends up back in Antonio's presence; under his care; unable to do anything for himself.
A useless burden that contributes nothing.
It really wasn't fair…
Those thoughts continue to circulate in the Italian's mind as the spoon was brought from the soup, to his lips, and back again.
It was the fact that Antonio still views him as a child still that really bothers him. It makes his heart hurt, but what really agitates him was how he actually looks forward to the times when the Spaniard would care for him, like now; like last night.
His depressed, jealous state last night had actually made him cave and allow Antonio to hold him as he slept, leading to his embarrassment this morning. Which then led to his fleeing, causing guilt and more depression to spike and spiral out of control. Which led to this: Antonio practically hand-feeling him with him on his lap.
A soft touch to his cheek causes Lovino to return to earth. Quietly, he turns his eyes to the underlying subject of his thoughts.
The grin aimed at him is absolutely blinding.
"Welcome back tomatito! I was wondering if you wanted some more of mi sopa deliciosa~"
It's only then that Lovino sees the empty bowl sitting on the coffee table. He opens his mouth, trying to find something—anything—to say, but fails. In the end, he becomes aware that he is still being held on the Spaniard's lap and his face darkens to a brilliant red.
OoOoOoOoOo
Antonio smiles at the delicious red color that seeps onto the cheeks of the male sitting on his lap. A soft sigh passes through his lips before he thoughtlessly places a chaste kiss on the Italian's temple.
"Is that a yes or a no, cariño?"
It's only after Lovino tenses that he realizes his slip-up of kissing the distraught Italian, but he can't find it in himself to care. Lovino was sad, and Antonio was worried about him. Antonio loves him, and refuses to restrain himself anymore.
"Lovi…" he whispers, eyebrows creasing in worry. "Are you alright, amor?"
The Italian's body suddenly springs to life, jerking out of the Spaniard's hold and falling awkwardly to the ground. Antonio watches, unable to move, as Lovino's elbow launches the soup bowl across the room and his head hits the table with an echoing crack.
The smaller male's body then lies on the floor, unmoving.
Panicking, Antonio pushes the coffee table away and settles next to the Italian. Quickly, he cradles Lovino in his arms and caresses his hair, searching for any blood. Words escape him as the brilliant olive eyes flutter open and relief washes over him.
"Antonio…" he groans, reaching up to place a palm on his pulsing forehead, "Why?"
"Why what, mi precioso?" The Spaniard murmurs, locking eyes with his beloved.
Lovino grimaces and painfully moans out "Why do you bother with me?"
"Ah, I try not to bother you Lovi, but sometimes I just can't help i-"
Lovino snarls, effectively cutting the moron off, "No, why do you bother with me." Shoving Antonio away, Lovino sits up. Ignoring his spinning head by using the couch to support himself, he continues: "You always drop everything to fucking help me. Why?" His jaw clenches as tears threaten to leak from his eyes.
"Why do you waste your time on me? I'm useless! Why do you…why do you care so much?" he finishes weakly, biting back a thick sob.
Antonio watches as the sobs grow louder and less restrained, heart constricting painfully in his chest.
"Lovino…" he begins, gently cupping the others tear-stained face, "That's because I love you and I care about you."
The explanation came easily to the Spaniard because it was true—he's always loved Lovino, in one way or another.
OoOoOoOoOo
The older nation's words don't register correctly in Lovino's head and he grows even angrier. "I know that, you fucking idiot! You've always taken care of me but why?" he sinks his teeth into his bottom lip.
"I'm not your problem anymore. I became independent a long time ago; you aren't obligated to still deal with me anymore." More tears cascade down his cheeks and onto Antonio's hands. "All I ever do is bitch at you and cause problems for you. Why do you still care? Why do you bother?"
"Lovino… I just told you why…" Antonio murmurs, trying to figure out how to calm the other down.
"No you didn't!" Lovino roars, grabbing Antonio's shirt in his fists violently. "I don't understand you. I can't understand why the hell you keep caring about someone like me!" he sobs.
Closing his eyes, Antonio takes a deep breath before wrapping his arms around the Italian and pulling him flush against him. He takes care to softly kiss away the tears streaming down the Italian's sun-kissed cheeks before calmly whispering: "I told you, Lovi. It's because I love you—te amo."
He looks into the broken olive eyes before placing another kiss to the Italian's forehead, "I don't find you bothersome, or mean, or hard to deal with. I love you for who you are. I've loved you a long time, Lovino.
"I haven't seen you as my charge in a long time" Antonio continues, being sure to maintain eye contact with his beloved. "I know you better than everyone except Feliciano—maybe even better than you know yourself, Lovino."
He smiles, using a discarded napkin to carefully clean Lovino's face. "I love you more than anything, mi tomate. Eres perfecto, lindo, guapo, y no quiero vivir sin ti."
Lovino's heart pounded against his chest; he could barely breathe; his mind was numb. All he could see was Antonio's green eyes; all he could feel was the Spaniard's warmth surrounding him.
"I-…" he croaks out, throat dry and tired.
"I would do anything for you, my love" the Spaniard finishes, pressing his lips to the Italian's in a sweet, gently kiss.
Taking a sharp breath in through his stuffed-up nose, Lovino closes his eyes and relishes in the Spaniard's hold. He feels the love radiating from Antonio and from the kiss they were sharing. His muscles relax and he becomes limp in Antonio's hold.
Lovino can't find any words to give Antonio. Weak and tired, all he finds the strength for is to tilt his head and look into those gorgeous green eyes. He then leans his face into the warm, broad chest and nuzzles it.
"Te amo mucho, mi tomatito precioso" the Spaniard whispers.
"Ti amo troppo, idiota…" Lovino murmurs back.
All Antonio can do is smile because, in the end, he was able to tell Lovino how much he actually loved him. He was able to help Lovino feel better about himself by showing how much he truly cared for him.
And, Lovino was able to release his caged feelings, if only slightly, and felt better about losing Feliciano to Ludwig. After all, Feli didn't belong to him and Lovino would never actually lose him. His brother loved him and would want him to be happy, too.
Lovino could be happy with Antonio, just like Feliciano could be happy and weird with Ludwig.
When was the last time you truly loved?
Love stronger than anything,
Love you would give up anything for,
Love that is pure and untainted.
Love.
The poem in this is mine. The first part from the beginning, second part in the middle, and final part at the end.
It annoys me just how often people use the word love ("oh I love these socks" "I love this guy I just met" "I love this television show") and I am guilty of it too, unfortunately, but really... loving someone, or something, means that you would be willing to sacrifice time, energy, resources, even your life to them/it. I would gladly give almost anything for my close friends and family to be happy.
It's the languages fault, I suppose- English does only have one word for love. In Spanish there's facinar, encantar, amar, and querer. The first two refer to loving something, like an object, place, etc. (facinar is a bit stronger) The second two refer to people; amar holds more weight and is considered more romantic (deeper) while querer is more friendly/caring way to express love... or, you know, express lust. I always found that weird... te quiero could be sexual or joking or serious (like telling your friends you love them- te quiero).
It is also underused, in a sense. Some people never hear the words "I love you" or ever feel like they are loved. If you have friends, family, etc. who you cannot live without, let them know that. You don't have to say "I love you" outright, but tell them how much they mean to you; show them how much you love them.
*cough* sorry for the rant. And the Spanish lesson *cough*I'mnotactuallysorrythough*cough*
Spanish Translations:
Vale- Okay
Cariño/querido- Term of endearment, like dear
¿qué pasó? ¿Estás bien?- What happened? Are you okay/alright?
Yo nunca te dejaría- I would never leave you
Mi pobre tomatito- My poor [little] tomato (-ito can also be a term of endearment, not always meaning little)
No puedo créerlo… Qué hices, Lovi? Estás matándote…Duérmete mi querido. Yo cuidaré a ti- I don't believe it...What happened, Lovi? You're killing yourself...Sleep, my dear. I will take care of you.
No debes levantarte- You shouldn't get/stand up
Estás bien, mi querido. Relájate, ¿vale?- You are fine, my dear. Relax, okay?
Un momento, mi querido- One moment/minute, my dear
con mi sopa de tomate- with my tomato soup (or soup of tomato, I guess haha)
mi sopa deliciosa- my delicious soup
Eres perfecto, lindo, guapo, y no quiero vivir sin ti- You are perfect, cute, handsome, and I don't want to live without you.
Te amo mucho, mi tomatito precioso- I love you a lot, my precious little tomato.
I didn't use Google translate for any of these, only to find certain vocab words. Otherwise I used my own knowledge of the Spanish language. They may not all be correct, so please let me know if I made a mistake-it's entirely possible I made grammatical (or even spelling) errors.
Anyway, I really hope you enjoyed reading this! Constructive criticism is LOVED, L-O-V-E-D. There's likely to be mistakes because I started writing this in past tense and decided I wanted it mostly in present tense so um... I may have missed some parts when editing.
Anyway, hope you enjoyed it! I may add an epilogue or some omake (extras) later on, also.
Lemme know what you thought!
~Cheetay