In Which I Am An Idiota

"Give a little time to me / we'll burn this out."

Ed Sheeran, "Give Me Love"

The next day is Saturday. Saturday is my blah day, when I just go downstairs, sit on the couch in front of the tv, wrapped in blankets, and watch Doctor Who while writing my never-ending book on the computer. Nonno has gone out to have coffee with one of his friends and Romeo is out today, too, probably going out to the square so that he can sit around and chat up girls until his mouth falls off from talking. I honestly wouldn't be surprised if he came home one night holding his lips in his hand and looking mournful.

Around two in the afternoon I get up and heat myself up some leftover pizza. Though I'd never admit it to his face-or at all, actually-Romeo's pizza is extremely good, possibly even better then my little angel brother. Jesus, the way my parents talk about Feli, you'd think he was, well, Jesus. "Oh, Feli, you're such an angel!" or "Oh Feli, this pasta is so good! Did God give you the recipe?" or, and this one is my favorite: "Feli, I'm so glad we had you! We were so worried we'd never have children!"

And this is coming from the people with three children. Stupid fuckers. Romeo barely even remembers our parents, since we left when he was three to go live with Nonno, and he hasn't been back to America since. He says it's because he hates our parents, but I know that it's really because he doesn't want to see them fawn over Feli while completely ignoring him.

When the pizza's done, I go back to blobbing on the couch. I know that this will make me seem totally gay, but the only thing that could make this any better right now would be a) an epic make out scene on Torchwood (you who watch know what I mean) or b) a jar of Nutella. Wait, did you hear that? Was it angels singing? No, it was just the sound of the word: Nutella.

And so, of course, since everything is the very meaning of the word perfect, it has to be ruined. I'm just waiting.

My phone buzzes on the table next to me, and I absently pick it up. It's a text from my friend Michelle, asking if I want to hang out at this cafe we like with our friends Bella and Eliza tomorrow. I quickly type back a positive answer and then remember that Antonio's number is still on my arm. I pull my sleeve up- I had to wear long sleeves so that Romeo wouldn't see it -and copy it into my contacts. He ends up right at the top. Oh fuck. Now I just have to call him.

I quickly press call and hold the phone up to my ear, waiting with bated breath, reminding myself that I'm supposed to be hoping that he doesn't pick up, instead of hoping that he does.

The line clicks open. Fuck!

"Hello?" asks Jolly Old Saint Antonio. Fuck. Can he even get any happier?

"Hi..." I say, wanting to hang up the phone, or maybe throw it on the ground, or drown it in the bathtub.

"Lovino?" he asks happily. "You called me? That's great! Hello! What can I do for you?"

Before I know what's happening, I'm asking him if he wants to go out for gelato. Today. Right now.

There's an awkward moment of silence where he doesn't reply and I think he's about to say no, but then he says: "Of course! Where at? I might not be able to get there too fast, though, because, heh, I really don't know my way around yet. I know, maybe you could show me around a bit! Wouldn't that be fun?"

"Yeah..." I say, feeling miserable. Why did I have to do this? Why am I ruining my perfect day so that I can eat ice cream with some random guy I met on a plane, who's probably at least six years older than me and could, for all I know, be a fucking pedophile! (And what did that awkward silence mean? Was it just that he was embarrassed to admit he didn't know his way around, or-no, don't think about it, Lovino!)

"Where should we meet then?" he asks cheerily. His smile travels through the phone and latches itself onto the top of my head to fuck with my senses.

"Um, tell me around where you live, we can meet up at a gelato place around there." He promptly reads me off his address which I immediately file away. "Not too far from my place. Okay, from where you are, go straight down..." I list a couple of streets, spelling them so that he knows what they are, and I can practically hear him nodding emphatically as I give him the directions.

"Okay then, see you soon, Lovino!" He hangs up the phone, and I just stare at the screen for a couple moments. What the hell am I doing? I mean... what the hell? What the hell?! Cazzo! I'm such a fucking idiot!

I throw myself off the couch, turn off the tv, then go upstairs to my room to change. After all, I can't very well go outside wearing my lazing-about outfit. I pull on a pair of light gray jeans and then stand, at a loss, in front of my closet. What else? I could put on that white button down shirt, but that would be too fancy, I think. I don't want to wear any of my other t-shirts because they're all black with random heavy metal bands on it. I don't know why Nonno insists that I like heavy metal, but he gets me one of these fucking shirts for every gift-giving occasion, and it pisses me off. I think I'm going to tear them all apart and make a nice, warm quilt out of them.

I finally settle on a t-shirt that's just plain red. I have no idea where I got it, but I think it looks pretty good with my jeans. In fact, if I just had a dark gray scarf, I could be wearing something straight off of one of the One Direction boys. If figure that's pretty good, all things considered.

Once I'm done getting dressed, I go and quickly brush my teeth- because I hate people with bad breath and I don't want to be one of them and not anything else -then grab my wallet and step outside. It's hot, and the sun beating down on me feels good. It was so cold in America I'd forgotten that places could actually get this warm. Well, thank god for Italy, or else it would be too cold to breathe on this planet!

I meander along to the gelato place, hands in my pockets and scowl on my face. If I scowl enough, random strangers won't try to talk me up. Fuck, I can't even count how many times some random bitch has come up to me and asked for my number. I mean, seriously? You don't even know me!

I walk into the gelato place and look around for Antonio, trying not to seem as if I'm anxious to meet him or something.

"Lovino!" he says, just loudly enough to be heard over the bustle of all the customers. "Over here! I've saved you a seat!"

I make my way over to him, trying not to turn bright red with embarrassment as the lady who dishes out gelato-I've come here so often over the years that we're good friends-glances at Antonio and then gives me a lewd wink. Fuck, this is not going to go well at all. I should have stayed home and watched Titanic or something.

I sit down across from him, trying not to look at him while still looking at him so that he gets the feeling that I don't want to be here but I don't necessarily not like his company. Or maybe that I don't like his company but want to be here. Wait, what? Ugh! Fuckitall!

"So.." I begin to start, but before I can finish he bursts into, um, talking, about something. Maybe his new apartment? Or, um, dinner last night? Or maybe breakfast this morning, or tomatoes-wait, what, he got a tomato plant?

"We have a whole tomato garden!" I interrupt. "We have at least fifteen plants!" I smile evilly at the astonished look on his face.

"I want to see!" he begs. "I love tomatoes soooooooo much!"

I shrug nonchalantly. "Well, I can probably have you over sometime... I mean, just to, like, see the gardens, nothing else..."

He beams happily at me. "That would be so fun! Would you really let me come over?"

"Sure..." I don't know what else to say. Fuckit. "So, do you want to get some gelato now?" I say in a last-ditch attempt to breathe some life into our conversation.

"Of course!" he says happily. We get up and I show him exactly why this is my favorite gelato place: the gelato bar. It has just about every imaginable flavor of ice cream ever. And I mean ever. My personal favorite is the tomato ice cream. It's actually a big seller, mainly because I stop by everyday after school and get around two scoops and cover them in sprinkles and whipped cream. I know, it sounds disgusting, and it is, just a little, but it's also delicious enough to want to eat forever.

We both get tomato ice cream with sprinkles (something that makes the lady at the register elbow me in the arm to catch my attention as she makes... interesting gestures with her hands) then go back to our table and sit down to just, I dunno, chatter. Well, he chatters, and I kind of listen while trying to pretend that I'm not actually listening because I don't give a fucking damn what he says!

"So, do you come here a lot? That lady over there keeps looking at you like she knows you." Antonio says out of the blue.

I whirl around in my seat and give Maria-I know, classic Italian name-my best death glare. She grins at me, flipping her long hair over her shoulder, then turns back to her customers.

"Yeah, I guess I do kinda come here a bit..." I mumble into my lap. Fuckit, I just can't look this guy in the eyes. Not that it matters. I mean, I don't even like him.

"Oh, then we should meet up here again! I've never had tomato ice cream, and it's delicious!" He gives me a happy smile, and I feel my face heat up.

"Y-yeah..." I agree. "Maybe..."

I can practically feel the guy smiling, and it ticks me off. Why is he smiling? He can't just smile all the time-what if his face sticks that way? I mean, everyone would think he's weird-and what about when he falls asleep? Would his face stay that way? The thought worries me for some reason.

"Stop smiling!" I order. "What if your face sticks that way?!"

The smiles drops off his face to be replaced by a thoughtful expression. "I think that if my face stuck this way, I would be happy, because then I would be smiling at everyone." He starts smiling at me again, and it makes me squirm around a bit in my seat. I'm not used to people constantly smiling at me-or rather, smiling at me at all. No one wants to smile at someone with a constant glower.

"W-want me to show you around now?" I ask, changing the subject.

The room seems to brighten as his smile grows wider. "Of course! I'd love to walk around the city with you!"

I feel a blush rising to my face at his words and I quickly turn away so that he can't see it. "L-let's go then." I stammer, hating myself for not being able to speak to him without feeling embarrassed. I get out of my seat and walk out the door, trying to resist the urge to look behind me to make sure he's following. What do I care if he's following? Damn fag, being such a fucking pain in the ass!

Once I'm out of the gelato place, I wait for him to catch up to me, because I don't want to lose him, no matter how much I act like I do. Oh wait, that sounded awfully romantic-I mean that I don't want to lose him somewhere in the city! Jesus fucking christ! I resist the urge to bash my head into the nearest wall so that I can regain my senses.

"Follow me," I say gruffly once he catches up to me. I play the part of the perfect tour guide, pointing out all the interest spots, and he oohs and aws at all the right spots, the perfect tour guide...ee? Whatever... I don't even care. I wouldn't have even brought him along with me if I hadn't been wanting to walk around the city anyways- wait, what? I was just about to watch "When In Rome" when I suddenly decided to just invite him out-AGH! WHAT'S WRONG WITH ME?!

"And here's this really popular pizza place-I don't get why everyone likes it, my brother can make much better pizza-"

"You have a brother?" Antonio asks, knocking me out of my thoughts.

"Hmm? I have two, I guess. Kinda." Oh shit. Why'd I say that? Now he's gonna ask-

"What do you mean, 'kinda'? Is it one or two?"

"Well, two, I guess, but I only see one of them over the summer."

"What? Why? Is he sickly?"

I snigger at this. I can't help it; the thought of Feli being sickly is about as likely as hot icicles or, um, healthy Americans. "No, he's not sickly, he just lives with our parents in the US." I try not to laugh. "There's no way he could ever be sickly. I swear, I don't even think he's ever been sick before, let alone sickly."

Antonio frowns slightly. "Well then, why don't you live with your parents instead of your... um, Nonno, you said?"

I squinch my eyes shut so that I don't burst into tears. Fuckitall, might as well tell him, I guess... "Well, my parents just... didn't want us, I guess, so they sent us off to live with Nonno." I keep my voice calm and nonchalant, and I make sure not to look him in the eyes, because I can just tell that he's the type of person who would wrap their arms around someone who's feeling sad, and if that happened to me, well, the walls would break, and I don't want that. Not at all.

"Lovino, that's awful!" he says, with feeling. Enough feeling that it makes me want to wrap my arms around myself and cry. I resist the urge and just stick my hands in my pockets. I don't want to be freaking out, especially not in the middle of Rome, and especially not in front of Antonio. I want him to think that I'm, like, cool or something.

I shrug. "Yeah, well, I guess. I'm used to it, though. I mean, it's been ten years since it happened." And I still cry every time I leave them. "I'm over it." And I still want to call them "Mom" and "Dad" instead of Robert and Alisa. "So it's all cool. Don't worry about it."

He gives me this look. At first I think it's pity, and then I realize it's not, it's, like, compassion, or maybe empathy, and I wonder why he'd feel like that, and then I realize that looking at him makes butterflies dance around in my stomach-and they're not even that good-so I stop looking at him, turning to kick a nearby pebble.

"S'yeah." I say lamely to try and get rid of this goddamn tension.

And then suddenly he smiles again, and I forget why the sun even exists if he shines brighter than it could ever dream of shining.

"Well, let's continue, shall we?" he asks, reaching out and grabbing my hand. I feel a rush of heat run through my face, and I'm just glad he's facing forwards because I would be so completely and totally embarrassed if he saw me looking like this.

"Where should we go next?" I ask him, straying slightly off the tour-guide path. I really, really, really want to show him my favorite place in this whole city, but I'm not sure if I want to share it. I'm also not sure he would be able to appreciate it properly.

He shrugs. "I don't know. I don't know anything about this city. You tell me where we should go!" Jesus christ, what is with him and gorgeous smiles. Is he trying to rot my brain with his sweetness? If so, he's doing a good job, because it's definitely working.

I suddenly decide that I might as well take him to my spot.

"Follow me," I say, keeping hold of his hand purely for the sake of showing him around-it's definitely not that I like the warmth it spreads through my veins, or the way my hand seems to fit so perfectly into his.

"Where are we going?" he asks after a while, as if it has only just occurred to him.

"Oh, just somewhere." I explain. "It's just this place I like." And I can't believe I'm showing it to you. I only just met you yesterday! What the fuck am I doing?

"Oh, okay!" he says brightly, as if I've just answered his question. Oh fuck, this guy is going to kill me with his niceness. Suddenly I have no doubts about showing him my spot.

"Well, here it is." I say, holding my arms out weakly in a kind of presenting way... but not really... "It's, uh, not much, really, but I kinda like it..." I'm cut off by his gasp of wonder. He looks like a small child who's just seen the North Pole.

"Lovi, this is the best!" he says. "I've never seen anything so wonderful!"

"Um, I guess-wait, what? Who the fuck is Lovi?" I demand, glaring at him.

"Hmm? Oh, that's your new nickname!" He beams at me.

"O-oh," I stammer, looking away. My god, I cannot stand this man's smile. It's too... too... perfect! Instead of looking at him, I turn to inspect my vineyard.

Well, I guess it's not my vineyard, but I feel like it is. I don't know what crazy person had the idea, but someone decided, "Hey, what the fuck, let's make some wine right smack dab in the middle of Rome!" It's not a particularly big or grand vineyard but it's, you know, a quiet place to bring a book and just sit in the sun and be peaceful.

...Which is why I just can't believe that I'm showing it to this guy! I just know he'll show up whenever I'm trying to relax, interrupting me with mindless chatter and nothingness and-I don't even know, but I know that I won't like it. Dammit! Why am I so fucking stupid?

"Is this your favorite place in the city then?" asks Antonio, looking at me curiously.

"Y-yeah... Well, besides our tomato garden, of course."

He nods. "You must really like the outdoors then." he remarks.

"N-no, not really..." I mutter, my face heating up. "It's my brother who likes the outdoors, not me."

He cocks his head to the side. "Well then, what do you like?"

"M-me? I-I dunno. No one's ever asked me that before."

He frowns. "Why not?"

I scuff my foot into the ground. "I dunno... they just never do. Everyone just always asks my brother."

"Well, I want to ask you." he says almost as if he's pouting about it. I feel my face turn bright red.

"F-fuck no! I'm not telling you!" I snap, even though I want nothing more than to tell him.

"Come on, Lovi, you can tell me!" he wheedles. "Really, I won't tell anyone or make fun of you or anything. My lips are sealed." he says gravely, pretending to pull a zipper across his mouth. I can't help but laugh at this, and he looks surprised. "What was that for?" he asks, sounding kinda shocked.

"Nothing! Fuck off already! Bastard..." I hope my face isn't as red as it feels.

"Lovi~! You're so cute! You're red like a tomato!" he cries happily. "Mi tomate querido!"

"I-I am not! Shut the fuck up! And what did you just say?"

"Nothing~!" he says, smiling like the cheeky bastard he is.

"Nothing my ass! What'd you just call me, stupid tomato bastard! Tell me or I'll beat it out of you!" I yell half-heartedly. He just laughs like, somehow, he knows that I don't mean what I'm saying. I'm surprised that I don't mean what I'm saying, just a little bit. I really don't hate this guy at all. Maybe it's because he took an interest in me, and didn't bypass me on his way to my brother, like everyone else always does.

"So, Lovi, are we going to go anywhere else?" he asks happily, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet.

I blush again. "Y-yeah... Um, let's go this way now, and I'll show you this really great furniture store-it's got the softest beds ever, and I like to go over there and just lay on them until someone kicks me off..."

(','(','(','('.')';')';')';')

By the time I get home it's dark already, and I'm pretty sure Nonno and Romeo are asleep. I go into the kitchen and make myself some toast-I haven't eaten since that tomato ice cream-and then walk up to my room to change and write a little bit. I sit in my bed and begin editing one of my newest chapters. I've been posting my book on the internet for a while now, and I have quite a following.

Halfway through my editing the door to my room opens to reveal a sleepy, sad-looking Romeo. He is, as usual when he sleeps, wearing nothing but sweats, and his awkward, fourteen-year-old body looks strange holding a big black teddy bear, the only present he ever got from our parents. I close my laptop immediately, setting it on my bedside table, then pat the spot next to me. He shuffles slowly over, then lays down next to me, snuggling into my pillow. I gently run my fingers through his soft, dark hair and feel sorry for him. He was only three when our parents decided to leave us here in Italy, and he barely remembers them. He's never gone back for a visit either; he refuses to see my parents, and they, as far as I know, don't care whether or not he comes. The only thing he has to remember them by is his teddy bear. It's getting pretty worn. I think it will break soon. I wonder what else will break with it.

Once he's fast asleep, I grab my computer again. I get all settled in and ready to go, and then find that I just can't bring myself to write anything about this story, not now, not when my baby brother's laying next to me because he's homesick. With a sigh, I set my laptop back on the table and lay down next to Romeo. Fuck, school starts in a week. Well, at least I'll be seeing my friends tomorrow. That'll be something, I guess.

A/N Okay, so, about the posting of chapters: Once a week, sometime during Saturday. To be smart and save time and planned-out shtick like that (I know right, impossible! XD) I have written about to chapter five of this-and revised, edited, all that goodness-before posting it. Because... um, just because, I guess. No real reason. I just wanted this to be super planned-out and stuff-which for me means that I just wrote it all and then rewrote what needed rewriting. Not important things like, y'know, the number of chapters or, like, plot... XD So yeah, read, review, follow, favorite, whatever. But just keep in mind: if you do any of the sideways (since they're not above XD) then you can MAKE YOURSELF SOME BACON. XD See, it's a good deal, peoples. You get bacon, I get reviews. It's great, seriously. XD

And, about the Ed Sheeran quotes above each chapter... what can I say? I'm Sheerious. XD Sorry, it's a Sheerio thing, because basically I'm a total Ed Sheeran fangirl, obsessive, I know his birthday and I won't tell you any more because I don't want to scare you. XD But yeah, this is basically a challenge to myself to see if I can pull through a hopefully around twenty chapter or more fic with an Ed Sheeran song quote above each. Plus, it's advertising; I'm hoping eventually you'll get curious about him. XD