Lovino was not happy.
He swore that, looking at all the smiling faces, he was going to piss in each of their bed sheets and smile whilst doing so. He hated them. Hated how they could dress so lavishly, dance so freely, and smile so easily. He hated it. It was the epitome of perfection, and it was so utterly cliché and just…all around bull shit.
If it wasn't for his damn brother he wouldn't even be there. Believe it or not he actually cared about that little shit, though he'd deny it to the day he died, and he wasn't going to miss his own brother's wedding of all things; even if it was to that potato bastard.
If they somehow defied every god damn law of reproduction and somehow produced a Satan spawn that smelled like wurst and potatoes all the fucking time then he was going to stick his head in a pile of old cheese.
He leaned against the wall, clutching a glass of brandy in his right hand. His usually sour face was even more sardonic. He wanted to be anywhere other than the stuffy reception filled with lithe bodies allowing the music to move their muscles. He frowned at how graceful they all moved with the upbeat music.
He hated the delicious meal of pasta that was served, he hated the beautiful decorations that Elizaveta had insisted on, and most of all he hated how Feliciano was clinging to Ludwig, lips locked on his new husband's. He hated it. He hated how they now had each other for the rest of their lives, to love each other, and he was still alone. God dammit he was not lonely!
He took a little sip of his brandy, and no sooner had he taken a sip had his splendid isolation been ruined.
"Lovino!" A bright voice called to him.
His head whipped around to see a sunny Spaniard walking towards him, that same dopey smile plastered on his face. "What the fuck do you want?" He asked sourly.
The tone didn't phase Antonio, if anything he just smiled wider. "I just wanted to see what my little Lovi was doing all alone! You looked lonely," he commented.
"Dammit don't call me that!" He spat. Dammit he hated that nickname! "I'm not lonely. So you can go away now."
Antonio most certainly did not leave; instead he leaned back against the wall and scanned his eyes over the crowd. "They all look like they're having so much fun." He cast a wistful smile over the crowd until his eyes landed on Ludwig and Feliciano in the middle of the dance floor. Feliciano's smile was one of a thousand suns whilst Ludwig's was soft, but no less he radiated elation. "They truly are an amazing pair," he commented, "I'm so happy that they're able to be together."
Lovino scoffed and turned his head away from the pair, his scowl deepening. "Bull shit."
"Oh come now," Antonio said, his smile softening, "don't be like that. They're happy; can't you be happy for them?"
Lovino rolled his eyes at Antonio, looking back over at him. "Fine. They're fucking perfect together, happy?" He said it sarcastically, but he couldn't deny the truth behind the words.
Antonio smiled again. "Much better!" He took a sip of his own drink, a mixture of ginger-ale and vodka. He looked back out to the crowd, finally noticing his dear friends. "Oh goodness," he said, "look at them!" He started chuckling wildly, a hand going to rest on his forehead. He truly wondered why he was friends with Gilbert and Francis the majority of the time.
The other two thirds of the trio were dancing wildly in the middle of the dance floor. Well, Gilbert was at least. Francis was following his long time desire, Arthur, around begging him for just one dance. The two were obviously drunk past the point of oblivion. Then, with an unfortunate twist of fate, the two looked over to see Lovino and Antonio standing together against the wall. They stopped their antics for a moment to look and smirk. Francis promptly blew a kiss over in their general direction and, as if that wasn't bad enough, Gilbert began hip thrusting the air, staring at them all the while.
Fuck this shit. Someone just needed to stab Lovino with a fork right then.
His cheeks flushed wildly red, and he refused to look at Antonio, who was shaking his head and rolling his eyes. "I hate your fucking friends," Lovino commented.
"You hate everyone," Antonio replied without hesitation.
"Because they're all idiotic bastards!" He retorted.
Antonio smirked over at him. "Even me?" He asked playfully.
"Especially you, jackass!" Lovino folded his arms across his chest, careful not to spill his brandy, and huffed.
Antonio laughed freely at that. "Oh Lovino, you truly are one of a kind." Lovino noticed how Antonio's green eyes reflected all the colors of the rainbow lights, and immediately had to look away. Dammit!
Just then a slow, melodic melody filled the air. Ludwig grasped Feliciano's hand softly in his own and began to slowly lead the dance. Everyone soon found their respective partners, Francis even managed to snatch Arthur.
Lovino wanted to puke.
He heard Antonio breath in contently. Of course the bastard would enjoy the slow, sappy notes that seemed to carry over the room in a lull. "Lovi?" He asked softly, looking at the other questioningly.
Lovino stared at the offered hand for a moment, then he realized that it was an invitation to dance. "Oh hell no!" He protested.
Antonio looked downtrodden for a moment but soon smiled and shrugged it off. "Suit yourself!" He told the other brightly before walking away. One rejection did not stop a Spaniard from dancing!
He strutted his way over to the dance floor and grabbed his good friend Bella by the waist, surprising her with a dance. Her eyes widened in surprise for a moment before softening into amusement.
Lovino saw her whisper something to Antonio, and he nodded in return.
God dammit what were they talking about?! And without his permission, jealousy flooded through Lovino like a tidal wave. He downed his drink in one gulp, the tonic slicking his throat and burning it slightly.
Just who the hell did Antonio think he was?! Just grabbing some random girl (okay it wasn't a random one) and wooing her with fluid dance moves. His fist squeezed so tightly that he thought he might break the glass.
To distract himself he walked over to the bar and asked for another glass. The bar tender did as was asked without question, handing him the glass.
Lovino wrapped his hands around the cool, crystalline glass and held to it like an anchor to reality. "I fucking hate everything," he muttered.
The bar tender seemed to notice this and he looked over at him amusedly. "Love sucks," he commented, wiping a glass.
And with that, for the first time in his life, Lovino did a spit take. The copper liquid spewed everywhere and he was left wide eyed. "The fuck did you just say?!"
The bartender laughed at that, and Lovino vaguely saw that the name tag read 'Alfred'. "Oh come on dude!" He gave him a look that all around read 'really?' "It's totally obvious that you've got the hots for that Spanish guy." He laughed, wiping down the wood where Lovino had sputtered alcohol everywhere. "I don't blame you," he said, looking over at Antonio, "that is one fine ass."
Lovino's face grew absolutely beet red at that, and he couldn't help but gape. "One more word and I will smash this fucking glass on your head!" He threatened halfheartedly.
Alfred scoffed at that. "Yeah right," he rolled his eyes, "as if you want that lawsuit on your hands. In all seriousness dude, lighten up, the guy obviously likes you and you're obviously too damn stubborn to admit you like him back. Now go get that Spanish ass before that blonde chick does!" And with that Alfred hopped over the counter to literally push Lovino off the stool and into the crowd.
Lovino was too stunned to protest as his eyes darted around the vicinity. No…he didn't like that bastard. Nope he fucking did not like that idiotic, jerk-faced, sunny, wonderful bastard. Nope.
His eyes settled on the dancing pair again. They were smiling and laughing, enjoying their dance. Lovino saw how Antonio's hand rested lightly on the curve of Bella's hip, how his tanned hand gently cradled her smooth, creamy one. There was laughter and light in their eyes, and they were so beautiful dancing together.
Then green met gold, and Lovino found himself caught staring at Antonio.
Antonio softly smiled at Lovino, not breaking his gaze with him while he was still dancing with Bella.
Lovino blinked for a moment, and he briefly caught Antonio leaning down to kiss Bella on the cheek before breaking away from their dance, before he fled back to the wall. He leaned against it and kept his gaze downcast.
He heard the music shift, and suddenly a voice came over the system. Ugh…that damn voice irritated Lovino to no end!
Feliks had been in camaraderie with Elizaveta on the reception planning, so they had the schedule down to a T.
Of course, Feliks was wearing a dress. He and Elizaveta were the only actual bride's maids. The rest were groomsmen, but as much as Lovino hated to admit it, Feliks really pulled off the deep red strapless dress.
That cross-dressing valley girl could be tolerable, but his damn voice! His speech pattern was difficult enough to understand, but Lovino vaguely made out that it was time for Feliciano to toss his bouquet.
"Going to go up there?" A voice asked amusedly.
Lovino looked up to see Antonio's dancing green eyes. "Eat dirt," he responded, his voice almost gave the air that Lovino was sulking.
Antonio merely smiled in return before grabbing Lovino's wrist, pulling him forward. "Dammit! What are you doing?!" Lovino demanded to know, trying to pull away from the man, but failing miserably. Shit…don't think about how his hand feels…don't think about how he looked in this lighting…don't think…don't think about him at all dammit!
"You're going to catch the bouquet!" Antonio responded gleefully.
"I'm not going to catch the damn-"
Antonio had suddenly stopped dragging Lovino, but the sudden thump on Lovino's head distracted him from this notion. Lovino blinked down in surprise. The bouquet had hit him straight on the head…he had caught the fucking bouquet.
The room erupted into cheers and laughter. Cat calls and whistles echoed off the walls.
"Look Lovi! You caught it!" Antonio said cheerfully. Dammit he loved that nickname!
Lovino barely heard any of it. He was only looking down at the picturesque petals that lay before him, Antonio standing before him, and the alcohol in his hand.
Alfred's words…oh hell. Without second thought Lovino downed the entire drink. Slamming the empty glass down on the table next to them Lovino reached forward with a furious and determined look on his face to grab Antonio by the collar. "Fuck it!" He announced before pulling the stunned Spaniard forward and crashing their lips together.
Cliché fic is cliché.
Feedback is amazing!