Antonio leaned back in his kitchen chair, carefully stretching his sore arms behind his head. It was barely 9AM, and he had already finished his morning workout at the gym, taken a quick shower and made himself a simple breakfast. He hadn't bothered to put on any proper clothes yet, only wearing a pair of loose shorts and a white tank top with a towel thrown over his shoulders. Occasional drops of water still dripped from his newly washed hair, speckling the kitchen table before him as he turned his attention back to his breakfast: fried eggs with toast and a mug of coffee.
His flatmate Francis, who was a sophomore like him, was yet to come out from his room, undoubtedly still fast asleep. The Frenchman tended to sleep until noon whenever he got the chance, and it was quite often that he brought a nightly guest into his room. Last evening, however, when Antonio had returned from his part-time job at the vegetable shop, he had been surprised to find his flatmate alone in his room, apparently doing school work.
The Spaniard slowly picked up a piece of toast from his plate, breathing in the delicious smell of toasted bread and egg fried in olive oil before proceeding to take a bite. This simple and easy-to-make breakfast had been his favorite back when he had still lived with his family in a small village in the Spanish countryside. His mother had often cooked it for him before he headed out to play soccer with the other kids in the neighborhood, and later on in the morning before his trip to Barcelona, which had ultimately ended up opening him the doors to the future he'd always dreamt of.
Antonio chewed slowly, leaning back in his kitchen chair and crossing his ankles under the table. Ever since the previous afternoon, his mind had constantly seemed to wander off from the tasks at hand, and his normally sharp concentration had kept slipping like a wet piece of soap escaping his fingers. He was lucky for the fact that his team captain, Alfred, wasn't the most observant person outside the soccer field, and nobody had caught him spacing out between sets during morning practice at the gym.
Lovino Vargas. That was the name of the boy he hadn't been able to get off his mind ever since he'd met him the day before during his shift at the vegetable shop. He had had a small frame, a warm olive complexion, and his hair had been a dark shade of auburn, slightly ruffled as he'd just taken off his hood, with one particularly defiant curl protruding from the side of his head. His large, amber eyes had held a temperamental look, and he'd never seemed to meet Antonio's eyes for more than a second at a time before quickly finding something else to focus on.
As the Spaniard recalled a vivid picture of Lovino Vargas in his mind, he felt a growing sense of anticipation at the thought of actually being able to see the boy again that very evening. He still wasn't quite sure what it was about him that had managed to capture his attention like that, but somehow every little detail he'd noticed about the auburn-haired boy had made his eyes linger on him for a while longer.
As Antonio was just about to take another bite of his piece of toast, he was suddenly brought back from his thoughts by the sound of a door opening and sluggish steps moving towards the kitchen. He craned his neck, watching as his flatmate approached the table while stifling a yawn and rubbing his eyes with one of his pajama sleeves. The usually so elegant and polished Frenchman was like a totally different person in the morning. Antonio had found this hilarious during their freshman year, when he'd first seen his flatmate like that. Even though over a year had passed since then, the sight still tented to bring an amused smile to his lips.
"Morning, Francis! You're up early today."
"Bon matin, mon ami…" Francis yawned again, giving the Spaniard a sleepy glance from across the room before proceeding to open the fridge and examine its contents. He grumbled something under his breath, and Antonio understood enough French to know that he wasn't pleased with what he saw.
"What?" Antonio asked, watching the Frenchman with slight amusement. "Did you forget to buy that marmalade of yours again? You can have a tomato with your baguette, if you like."
"Tomato?" The blond turned to look at him in horror. "For breakfast? Oh non!"
The Spaniard rolled his eyes at his flatmate's reaction, carefully picking up his coffee mug and blowing into the still hot beverage. The clock on the wall across the room told him he only had fifteen minutes until he would have to leave for work. He brought his mug to his lips and took a careful sip, thinking about the busy day he had ahead of him. His thoughts mostly centered around six o'clock in the evening, though, as that was when he would finally get to meet Lovino Vargas again.
xxx
Lovino's eyes darted to the door each time he heard the faint ring of the bell, barely discernible amid the chattering that filled the small café. When he then saw that the person stepping in was someone else than Antonio, he felt an indisputable surge of disappointment in his stomach, which frustrated him to a great extent. How could he be so anxious to see someone he'd only met the day before for the first time? Dammit, it wasn't like he was some lonely puppy waiting for his owner to return home.
Trying to find something to busy himself with, the Italian brought his cup of coffee to his lips, taking a tentative sip of the hot latte, brows furrowed in a deep scowl. The coffee wasn't that bad, but it was still too hot for him to drink without burning his tongue. He settled for checking his phone for what was probably the tenth time in five minutes, noting that it was exactly 6PM, the time Antonio had promised to meet him there.
He'd better show up soon…
Or what if he wouldn't even come? What if he'd already forgotten the whole thing about showing Lovino around? As the Italian considered it, a heavy coldness started to settle in his stomach. What if the young shop assistant had thrown in the offer just to mess with him, and hadn't been serious about it in the first place? This thought had crossed his mind more than once after he'd returned to his flat the previous afternoon, soaked from the heavy rain and perplexed by the turn his perfectly ordinary shopping trip had ended up taking.
The Italian's eyes yet again drifted to the door across the room, a new kind of nervousness filling both his mind and his body. He hated it when people tried to mess with him and make him look like a fool, and he generally found it very difficult to trust others, especially people he didn't know well – or, in this case, at all. And yet he had still come there with barely any hesitation, despite of having no guarantee that the brunet would actually show up. His frown deepened as he kept his eyes fixed at the door, hands nervously twiddling with his phone.
Suddenly, without any warning, the bell rang and the door swung open. Lovino's eyes widened, his heart doing a small jump in his chest. It was Antonio who stepped through the door this time, running a hand through his brown curls while he quickly scanned the small room. His face lit up the moment he laid his eyes on Lovino, who sat frozen in his chair across the room, eyes still wide from surprise. There was only one thought in the Italian's dazed mind: Antonio had really come to meet him as he'd promised.
"Hey!" Antonio made his way to Lovino's table, a bright smile playing on his lips and eyes sparkling as he studied the Italian in front of him. "Sorry I made you wait, I tried to come as quick as I could." The brunet smiled apologetically, and Lovino noted that he was slightly out of breath.
"Ciao", Lovino greeted him, finally snapping out of his momentary daze. He fixed his gaze at the still nearly full cup of coffee before him, not trusting himself to meet the brunet's eyes. "And it's not like I waited long", he added. That wasn't entirely true as he'd come there quite early, but the brunet himself hadn't exceeded the agreed time by even five minutes. Lovino instantly felt a little embarrassed at himself for getting so nervous and jumping into conclusions so soon, when Antonio had barely even been late yet.
"Oh, that's good, then!"
Lovino could hear the smile in his voice, and couldn't stop himself from sneaking a glance at the young man standing next to his table. The harsh wind outside had ruffled his wavy locks, as well as made his tan cheeks and nose catch a light tint of pink, which gave his skin a warm glow under the yellow ceiling lights of the small café. His eyes were just as vibrant as Lovino had remembered from the day before, their color a rich emerald green. The Italian met them for a second, then quickly turned his eyes back to his cup of coffee, feeling a familiar burn in the tips of his ears.
"Uh, are you going to get some coffee or something?" Lovino spoke with a slight stutter, the tips of his ears rapidly growing hotter.
"Oh, right!" The brunet chuckled, finally taking his brilliant eyes off the Italian, who immediately felt relieved.
Lovino took a deep breath, slowly running his fingers through his hair. This feeling… It was the same jittery feeling from last afternoon, the feeling Antonio's presence instantly evoked him. The inability to meet his eyes without feeling his heart start racing and the tips of his ears burn, the inexplicable sense of excitement he'd felt in the vegetable shop at the thought of being able to see him again, and finally coming there to that café with barely any hesitation, regardless of having no guarantee that the brunet would actually show up.
Lovino rested his elbow on the table before him, eyes fixed down at the smooth, wooden surface. He furrowed his brows, lightly tugging at the locks of hair between his fingers. What was going on with him? No person had ever before had the kind of power over him as Antonio now seemed to have. Sure, there had been plenty of those who tried to get to him with sneers and nasty remarks, but this was something else entirely. Antonio had only been nice to him, and yet it was making him more flustered than ever.
The Italian lifted up his gaze, watching the brunet's back as he gave the waitress behind the counter a cheerful thanks, picked up his order and turned to head back to Lovino's table at the back of the room. He carefully placed down his steaming cup of coffee before taking off his coat and scarf and placing then on the chair back. Then he finally took the seat opposite from Lovino, turning to face him with a warm smile playing on his lips.
Lovino's skin tingled under his look, which, regardless of its warmth, seemed to examine him with keen curiosity. He couldn't recall anyone ever giving him that sort of a look before, a look that was neither indifferent nor annoyed, nor was it even comparable to one of those concerned or affectionate looks his brother would give him. The Italian's efforts to comprehend the meaning of that particular look proved futile, as the more he thought about it, the more confused he became.
"So, Lovino, how has your first year in college started off?" The brunet finally spoke, forcing the Italian to concentrate his thoughts back on the present, instead of the endless questions and doubts that tended to occupy his mind whenever he got a moment to spare.
"Uh, fine", Lovino uttered, stealing a quick glance at the boy sitting across the table before hastily fixing his eyes back on his own cup of coffee, which still remained nearly full on the spotlessly white saucer before him. He immediately felt embarrassed for the bluntness of his reply, which again greatly irritated him. Why should it even matter? When had he ever cared about sounding disinterested or impolite when he talked to people?
Antonio let out a light chuckle, causing Lovino to lift his gaze from the table. "That was a boring question, wasn't it?" He gave the Italian an apologetic grin over his steaming cup of coffee, eyes sparkling as warmly as ever, a healthy tinge of color still visible on his cheeks. "I guess I should ask you something else", the brunet said, slightly inclining his head in a thoughtful manner, "hmm, did you try the tomatoes you bought yesterday?"
"Huh?" The Italian raised one of his eyebrows, eyes still fixed on the boy in front of him. The brunet returned his look, an expectant grin lighting up his tan face. The randomness of his question almost reminded Lovino of his brother, Feliciano, who's thoughts mainly seemed to center around food. Somehow the thought managed to ease his nervousness, if only just a little. "Si." He reached for his cup of coffee, carefully lifting it from the saucer. "They were good."
The brunet beamed at him as he lifted the cup to his lips and took a small sip, careful not to spill the beverage. It was still warm, but not so hot that it would have burnt his tongue.
"I told you, didn't I?" the other boy said proudly, flashing him a cheerful smile before proceeding to point at the cup of coffee that he was still holding. "What did you order?"
"A latte".
"Oh, me too! Wait… Are you perhaps Italian?" The brunet's look became curious as he carefully examined Lovino's face, as if looking for clues about his origin.
Lovino raised one of his eyebrows at the boy in front of him, a baffled smile suddenly tugging at his lips. If he hadn't been looking at the athletic frame of a tall boy with a perfect tan and brilliant green eyes, he would have thought he was talking to his own silly little brother. "Really? Just because I'm drinking a latte, I have to be Italian?"
The brunet laughed, casually brushing a few strands of hair off his forehead, then quickly fixing his sparkling eyes back on Lovino. The Italian forced himself to meet his look, keeping his eyebrows slightly raised even though he could feel a familiar burn in the tips of his ears. If Antonio's smile was dazzling, his laugh was on another level entirely. It somehow managed to fill the Italian's chest with a strange sense of warmth, making his skin tingle and his cheeks flush no matter how much he tried to get his head together.
"It's not just the latte", the brunet said with a small chuckle, slightly inclining his head as he kept studying the Italian in front of him, a curious smile playing on his lips. "It's also your accent. And", he added, raising his right index finger knowingly, "you look quite Italian, too."
Lovino rolled his eyes, resisting the smile that was still tugging at his lips. "Well, I guess you got it right. I am Italian."
"I knew it!" The brunet's smile widened into a cheerful grin as he beamed at the boy in front of him.
Lovino fixed his eyes at his cup of coffee again, picking it up in his hands but bringing it only halfway up, resting his elbows on the wooden table. "What about you? I mean, where do you come from?" He hadn't actually planned it, but somehow the question had escaped his lips anyway. I want to know more about this boy. That thought had somehow stuck to his mind like one of those colorful sticky notes that his brother had once stolen from him and stuck all around their room when they had been younger.
"Spain", the brunet said while placing his own forearms on the table, his look dropping only for a second before quickly returning to Lovino again. The Italian could have sworn he saw a wistful glint in those emerald eyes, but it was gone as quickly as it had appeared. "I came here to play soccer." The cheerfulness was instantly back to his tone, and a bright grin illuminated his features as he faced Lovino.
"Soccer?" Lovino's eyes skimmed over the Spaniard's wide shoulders and steady form, and he couldn't help but to picture him on a soccer field, wearing a snug jersey with his hair falling on his forehead and sweat running down his face. He quickly forced the image off his mind, returning his eyes to his coffee and raising the cup all the way to his lips, drinking the remainder of the beverage in one gulp.
"Yeah, I play for the school's team. It was a dream come true to get in here." The sincerity he spoke the words with, along with the sparkle that lit up his vibrant eyes suddenly caused Lovino's stomach to wring painfully. He had to drop his look again, unsure as to what made him feel like that. Was it simply the passion with which Antonio spoke with, and the lack of such enthusiasm in Lovino's own life? Or was there something else as well? He was pretty sure there was, but he was interrupted by the Spaniard before he had time to figure it out.
"How about you?" The brunet's warm, gentle look seemed to pierce right through him, cutting into pieces everything he had just been thinking about. "What are you interested in?" His tone was genuinely curious as he smiled at the Italian, which only caused the knot in his stomach to tighten.
"Nothing special, really." Lovino's mouth felt dry regardless of the cup of coffee he had finished just a moment ago. He kept his eyes down, unable to face the boy in front of him. He suddenly felt extremely insecure, having nothing interesting he could tell the other boy about himself. How could it be that he suddenly felt such a strong urge to appear interesting to someone? The whole idea still puzzled him, making him feel disgusted at himself.
"Huh? Come on", the Spaniard chuckled, "it can't be that embarrassing, now can it?"
Lovino raised his look enough to catch a glimpse of the brunet's face, which held a cheerful, slightly amused smile, completely unaffected by the flatness of the Italian's response. That has to be it. It's that face that he always makes. That's what's making me act like some sentimental idiot. "Uh, music, I guess", Lovino said with a slight frown. "And reading."
"Really? Do you play some instrument?"
The genuine curiousness in the Spaniard's voice caused the Italian to blink his eyes a couple of times before he could finally fix them back at the boy in front of him. He couldn't remember anyone ever sounding as interested in him or his interests as this Spanish boy he barely knew, and whom he had met no earlier than the day before. It didn't seem to make any sense, but somehow it managed to ease the knot in Lovino's stomach, filling him with a sense of indisputable warmth.
He then told the Spaniard about his guitar, which he had had to leave at home when moving into his campus flat. That shifted their conversation to their current accommodation, and Lovino learned about Antonio's French flatmate and some of his crazy habits, which managed to bring an amused smile to his face. At some point, he came to realize that he felt less and less tense as time passed and the Spaniard showed no signs of being bored or tired of his company. Eventually, the Italian was so caught up in their conversation that any insecurities he'd harbored in his mind earlier were pushed into a far corner at the back of his mind, where they faded into barely discernible background noise.