Lovino shivered and groped around the bed for the covers, squeezing his eyes against the sun coming through the window. Goddamn Antonio. Always taking the sheets in the night. But when his hand met the empty space beside him he was forced to open his eyes and recall the cold truth of reality. He was not in his room, Antonio was not asleep next to him, and his sheets were piled on the floor.
Rubbing his head he sat up and took a look around the guest room. All his stuff was in a heap where he had pushed it off the bed last night, Antonio's ring placed carefully on the bedside table. Leaning down he picked up a few pieces of clothing and threw them on, not caring that they were wrinkled. Lovino scowled at the furniture as he walked out of the room, as if it had personally offended him. It was odd how a place could be familiar and strange at the same time. It was still the house he had been living in for the past three months (and other parts of his life), but it felt like he was staying in a hotel room.
Yawning, he started to make his way kitchen, the cold hardwood floors numbing his feet. Quite honestly he felt like sleeping for another five hours, but in light of the circumstances falling back into blissful unconsciousness seemed about as likely as Alfred giving up hamburgers.
Suddenly he stopped. He was sure he had just heard something… No, there it was again. He could definitely hear music coming from the direction of the porch.
Lovino's eyes widened as he started running down the halls, his teeth clenched in a strained attempt to hold back the hope he refused to allow himself to feel. But despite his best efforts he couldn't stop it from rising up, or the word that kept echoing back and forth in his mind, Antonio
Breathing heavily, he slid onto the porch, his momentum getting the best of him. And there was Antonio. Sitting on the banister and strumming his guitar as if nothing had happened. But… Lovino felt his shoulders drop as the small hope that had slipped through his barrier deflated inside his chest. It wasn't the old Antonio. It wasn't his Antonio. Although the Spaniard's hands moved across the stings with obvious talent, that's all there was. His fingers hovered over the instrument before each note, unsure of where to put themselves. It was only a split-second hesitation, but the difference was enough to make what was once a fluid piece sound jittery and out of breath.
"Oh. Good morning, Lovino!"
Said Italian's head shot up from where he was staring at his shoes. Antonio was smiling at him in his usual way, but it just made him scowl. Antonio, still being Antonio of course, misread it. Gasping he looked down at the guitar in his hand and back at Lovino.
"I'm sorry! I didn't wake you, did I? When I woke up I saw the guitar and just sorta picked it up. Then I thought it was such a beautiful morning so I came out here and kept fiddling with it…" Antonio trailed off, looking sheepish. Sighing Lovino walked forward and plopped down a few feet from him, staring at the faint remnants of sunrise.
"No you didn't wake me up. I, uhh, didn't sleep that well."
"Oh, you didn't? That's too bad. But I'm glad I didn't wake you up, Lovino!"
For a few minutes Lovino sat there, contemplating his breathing and the light shinning on the carnations in Antonio's garden. If he cleared his mind he could almost make life seem normal. Almost.
"So, do you have a sweetheart?"
Lovino jumped about six inches into the air, "W-what?!"
Antonio remained oblivious to the sudden tension emanating off of his skin, "Well, you do have a ring on your finger, Lovino."
"O-oh." He looked down at his finger and stared at the ring encircling it, ignoring the sharp pain tugging at his vocal chords, "Yeah. I guess I do."
"Whoever they are must be very lucky!"
Lovino stood and turned back to the house, not bothering to wait for Antonio to follow (which he did).
Come back soon, Antonio, he thought to himself, ignoring the sound of footsteps behind him, Otherwise I might kill you, you ignorant bastard!
~*~*~*~*~ "What the hell do you think you're doing?!" Lovino stood at the door mouth hanging open in shock. The room he had previously shared with Antonio was a wreck; clothes decorated every available surface and items from various time periods lay scattered on the bed and floor. And in the middle was Antonio: shirtless and grinning like he had just discovered how to end world hunger. "Once again: What the hell do you think you're doing?!" "I've decided to learn about myself! And the best way is to go through my stuff, right?" He nodded as if confirming the idea as a good one, "Yeah so I've been going through everything here to see if something might remind me of… well, anything! Here!" Lovino stumbled forward as Antonio grabbed his arm and pulled him into the room, "You can help me." ~*~*~*~*~ "And this one?" For the last hour and a half Antonio had been firing non-stop questions at Lovino, asking about his things or the various scars he had accumulated over the centuries. But unfortunately for him, Antonio was not the type of person to realize when enough was enough. "And, what about this one?" Lovino looked up, eyes heavy from boredom, at the fairly large circular scar Antonio was pointing to. Yawning, he placed his head in his hands, "2004. The bombing in Madrid." Antonio nodded, "Alright. And," he raced over to the closet, the door already open, and began rummaging through the boxes. After a few seconds he extracted a necklace made entirely of gold, "what about this?" "Mayan gold. From when you single-handedly conquered their civilization in South America." "Really? I did that?" He looked from the necklace to Lovino, then back at the gold dangling from his hands. He smiled, "I must have been pretty cool then, huh?" Lovino couldn't help but smile just a little. That was such a… such an Antonio thing to say. "Ok, then. What about… this one!" Lovino stared at the long white scar extending over the contours of Antonio's ribcage. The old mark was glaringly obvious against the rest of his tan skin. "Bastard Antonio! You're dripping all over the floor!" "It's okay, Lovi. You don't have to worry about me." "I-I never said I was worried, idiot! I'm just gonna have to clean it up, is all!" Quickly Lovino shook off the memory of when he himself had bandaged that very wound. Standing he headed towards the door, hands stuffed in his pockets, "I've had enough of this. I'm going to get something to eat. You can grab whatever out of the kitchen if you get hungry." "Wait! Lovi!" Lovino whipped around, fire in his eyes, "Don't call me that! There's only one person who can call me that and you… You aren't that person!" Antonio stopped, backing away a bit, "O-okay, Lovino. I won't call you that. I just thought it was kind of a cute nickname. But before you go could you tell me what this scar is? I promise I won't ask about any more! Really!" "That scar…" Lovino scowled and turned out of the room, "That was when the Mayas fought back." Walking out into the hall, he briefly wondered if Antonio noticed how much his hands were shaking.
