Forgive (Te Amo, Idiota)

- All disclaimers implied, lemon implied, angst, and comfort. -

The phone rang, but I ignored it. I already knew it was you. Why would I pick it up, after what you did, today?

"Hey, you've reached the refrigerator of Juan's. His phone's currently lava-surfing, that bastard, so just leave a message, if it's worthy, I'll pass it on. If not, then…ha, good luck." –beep-

"Juan…Please pick up your phone. C'mon, what did I do wrong? Tell me, please! Why are you avoiding me?"

You asked those questions the first fifteen times, idiota. What makes you think I'm going to tell you now? And you damn well know what you did, don't pretend. Bastard, I can't believe…

"Juan, please…just c'mon. I love you, you know that, right? I…just talk to me, Juan…"

My stomach twisted unpleasantly, I felt sick. My chest hurt and ached, like a balloon had just popped, and Dios, it hurt so much, I nearly twitched and flinched. Why'd you say that, idiota? I saw you, you know.

"Call back soon, please. I…you should…just do it, please, Juan."

Stupid gringo, I hate you, why should I listen to you? You're an idiota, a cabron. I saw you, so stop acting so hurt, 'hero.'

The doorbell rang. "Oi, Juan, open up, will you?"

"It's open, idiota." I called out, grabbing a book and opened it to a random page. Venezuela came in, and noticed me on my bed. "What do you want?" I asked, not bothering to look at him as I read it. I've read this book a thousand times; where a girl gets heartbroken and gets comforted by her best friend, who gets bitten by a werewolf and loses all his memories.

He sat down on my bed, his weight shifting it. My eyes flitted to him, and he was watching me closely, with an indifferent expression on, though something else, something I can't identify, was seen in his eyes. I raised an eyebrow. "Why do you look so sad, mi amor?"

I frowned. "Don't call me that," I grumbled, going back to my book. I felt his hands and knees press down on the mattress on either side of my head. I looked up from my book again and looked into his eyes. He was directly above me now, and I felt a pang in my chest, and my stomach felt tingly, but pleasantly. "W-what are you doing, cabron!"

He leaned in close and the book dropped out of my hands and onto the floor. I gripped his shoulders, trying to prevent him from coming closer, and my eyes wide. He sighed. "I don't get you, Juan. Why do you like America more than the rest of us? Don't you know, Juan…?"

My grip loosened, and he took the opportunity to come in closer. I automatically tried to sink back into the mattress but he growled softly and leaned in closer even more. "Te amo, idiota," My breath hitched in my throat and he softly pressed his lips against mine's. I was shocked and frozen for a moment before I hesitantly kissed back, which he responded to eagerly.

I wrapped my arms around his neck, and his kisses spread, and our actions ecalated, and you know what, Alfred?

It felt better with him than you; I didn't feel bad or like I was cheating at all. And maybe that's what you felt, when you were doing what you did. Was it? And maybe, just maybe I could forgive you, because really, we were falling apart, weren't we?

But you know what?

I'll never forgive you for how you handled it.