My (False) Love
004: Casa
home (n.) / a house, apartment, or other shelter that is the usual residence of a person, family, or household
Day 8
Toni is idly flipping through the telenovelas on television when he suddenly finds himself yawning loudly. He rubs his eyes and straightens himself out on the couch. He finds that watching telenovelas alone isn't as fun as watching them with Romano. The fun is still there but it's just not as poignant.
His green eyes turn towards the large closed window of the apartment. Translucent yellow rays beat through the thick glass.
Still morning.
Romano hasn't even been gone for an hour yet.
His gaze sweeps the room. Nothing really out of place. Nothing really to do. He supposes he could take a nice little siesta, but—
— his eyes are drawn towards the window, towards what lays beyond the window.
It's such a beautiful day. Clear blue skies, not a cloud in sight.
Ay, he cannot resist!
He throws on a simple white shirt and a pair of jeans; digs into his old suit jacket which still lies crumpled in the corner of the room; grins in surprise as he procures a fat wallet from its pockets; and exits the apartment with a hum.
…
When Lovino arrives home, he blinks in confusion at the darkness that shrouds his apartment.
Something doesn't seem right.
A piece is missing from the puzzle.
Frowning, he flicks on the lights and walks in slowly. His senses are screaming at him; his nerves are telling him that something is terribly wrong; and he can feel goosebumps prick his skin.
"T-Toni?" Lovino scowls, his amber eyes sweeping the room quickly. "Oi, Toni, you bastard! Where are you?"
Silence.
His heart skips a beat. His stomach twists uncomfortably.
"Antonio!"
Nothing.
A plethora of thoughts rush through the Italian's head.
Where is Antonio? Has the man regained his memories and left the place? Is he lying in wait somewhere to get his revenge? No… Has someone discovered Antonio's state of mind and kidnapped him? Is the man in trouble? (Why is he even so worried about this man?) Has—
A small flash of pale yellow catches Lovino's attention. A sticky note. It clings to the black screen of the television set — yellow against black.
The Italian strides over to the television set and rips the note from the flat screen. He skims it over once, twice.
"That idiota!"
A handful of simple sentences are scribbled onto the square parchment. It reads—
Welcome home, Roma!
I thought that I would go outside today and maybe
buy some ingredients for the paella I was talking
about a couple days ago. It's such a beautiful day.
I can't resist! Oh, La Casa Y Aqua: Amor Tres is on
at three today if you want to record it. I'm confident
my Roma can man and keep the house clean without
me! Ay, I almost forgot! I found a lot of money in my
old jacket! I must have won lots at the casino before
I lost my memories or something? I'll buy you some-
thing nice, si? Haha, this note is getting kind of long!
Love, Toni ᕙ(^▿^-ᕙ)
There is a small tomato drawn in the very top left corner of the note.
"That dumbass is going to get himself killed!" Lovino shouts exasperatedly to himself as he paces the room in a panic. "He's probably waltzing into some famiglia's hideout thinking that it's some kind of fucking fancy restaurant!"
But why is that a bad thing — if he wanders off and gets himself killed by another gang? If Toni dies, then I don't have to worry about the bastardo anymore! My problems will be over! Actually, it's better if he gets lost and never comes back… He's the source of my problems anywa—
"Like hell, dammit!" Lovino growls as he throws on a thicker jacket and turns on his heels towards the door. "I'm too busy to clean this apartment by myself! … The bastard is so damn lucky that he's my roommate!"
And thus the Italian dashes out of his apartment and out onto the slowly darkening streets.
…
The sunlight that peeks in-between the stone villas is absolutely rejuvenating. Antonio stretches out and bathes himself in the bright rays. People walking pleasantly along the street eye him with curiosity.
A model?
A foreigner.
A Spanish man.
Injured?
The whispers float along the streets and make their way towards the dark corners of the town. But none of these whispers catch the Spaniard's attention. The food stalls look too appetizing, the street performers too amusing, the vendors too intriguing.
Antonio smiles at them as he passes by; and they smile back at him in turn — his smile is too infectious. The man even smiles at those passing him by. He even smiles at the man — said man is dressed in the tight and crisp business suit that seems to be suffocating him — who stands in the darkness of an alleyway and who holds a rather important-looking briefcase in hand. The man flashes Antonio a smile in turn on instinct; but then, their gazes meet; and the suited man's expression becomes a horrified one.
The transporter Nico Basilio has laid eyes on the infamous capo Antonio Fernandez Carriedo.
Nico takes a step backwards in preparation to dash in the opposite direction but trips over his own two feet when the man passes him by without sparing him a second glance. Perhaps the man did not recognize him? Whatever the case, Nico knows he has to get this information to Romano immediately.
…
Lovino bumps into Nico as he rounds the corner of an antique store. The man is flustered and flabbergasted to say the least.
"Wha-what the fuck are you doing here?!" Lovino half stutters, half shouts. His nervousness is clear as day.
"H-He's alive, Mister Romano!" Nico whimpers as he clings to the man's clothing. His nervousness is also clear as day. "Fernandez Carriedo is alive! I saw him—"
"What?!" Romano hisses with widened eyes. He grips Nico by the scruff and shakes the man roughly. "Where did you see that idiota?!"
"Near Rosa Street!" Nico exclaims, overtaken by the other man's intensity. "Wha-what are you going to—"
But Lovino has already turned the corner and dashed down the alleyway.
…
Antonio finds the thing hidden beneath planks of wood. Why anyone would have abandoned such a thing there, the man isn't quite sure.
He bends down in the alleyway and removes the thing from the clutter. It's in almost perfect shape. In fact, save for a small chip in its wooden body, it seems brand new.
He wonders for a moment if he can play it.
Pursing his lips, he runs his fingers across its neck.
Disjointed thrums hit the air.
Frowning, he reaches upwards and adjusts several of the knobs that line the thing's upper neck. After a minute of doing this, he runs his fingers along its neck again.
A musical sound.
He grins ear to ear and straps the thing to his back.
…
Meanwhile, Lovino Vargas is literally shitting his pants.
Antonio F. C. Antonio Fucking Carriedo. The source of his woes. The birthplace of his problems—
— and here Lovino finds himself tearing through the small villa searching for him.
But why?
Lovino can't understand himself at all.
Why can't he just let this man go? Let him wander away and never come back? Let him get offed by another hit-man?
Lovino tries to tell himself that he's gotten used to Toni cleaning the house and doesn't want to spend money on an actual maid. He tries to tell himself that he doesn't want some other hit-man to off Antonio — that wants to off Antonio himself when the man recovers, but…
… then he finds himself reminiscing (of all things) about the man. He doesn't recall what the man was like during their first encounter — smirking beneath poisonous green eyes. No, for some reason that first encounter is like a distant memory. Instead, Lovino recalls their second encounter — smiling brightly beneath sparkling green eyes. He recalls the man's gaze, recalls how the man's gaze always focused attentively on him whenever he even so much as grunted, recalls how the man's gaze made him feel like he was someone actually worth listening to — not some wayward foul-mouthed street brat, but… an important person? It's something he had never felt before in his life.
'You have kind hands, Roma.'
Ugh! Bullshit! 'Kind hands' that are only good at killing? Utter bullshit! Lying bastardo!
But Lovino knows that Toni is incapable of lying about things like that. The man is incapable of true and pure ill will. He is like a child, a child who enjoys watching crappily written telenovelas, who thinks that belting out cheesey lines and singing songs to a lover at sunset is "passionate and romantic", who laughs brightly and cheerfully even in dire situations, who laughs musically when trying a tomato for the "first time" he can remember, who has no tact and acts like a ditz even with a clear head, who thinks Lovino is "kind", who thinks Lovino's defensive anger is "cute", who listens and respond to every word Lovino says—
— who is a fucking dangerous capo! The 'Conquistador'? Come on! You know that sounds bad!
But what the hell does that matter? He's not like that now, dammit!
Lovino skids to a halt as the two stray thoughts clash within his mind.
Impossible.
There's no way.
The realization hits Lovino square in the face. It stings like a slap.
I actually care about that bastard…?
No. Impossible.
I've only known him for a fucking week!
Lovino refuses to believe it. There is no way that he cares about this person — this figment of a person. This person who is supposed to be his enemy.
It must be something else. It has to be!
But Lovino's feet begin moving underneath him again.
I'm the idiota.
…
He is browsing a stall that sells straw sun hats when the young woman grabs his arm and spins him around. His guitar nearly swings off of his back and right into her face.
The woman is very pretty. Her eyes — they're wide and they're searching his face for some reason — are a bright green, and her hair almost matches the color of one of the newer straw hats placed on display. Despite her petite form, her grip on his arm is irontight. Bella, a voice at the back of his head whispers. Beautiful.
"Antonio?" She says in barely a whisper.
"Que?" He answers her question with another question.
"It is you!" She breathes a sigh of relief, before she suddenly asks in a very demanding voice: "Where in the world have you been, Antonio?" She sounds worried. Very worried. Concerned? "Things have been going crazy without you lately!"
"What do you mean?" He tilts his head ever so slightly; his eyes appraise her once more. "Who are you?"
She recoils at the question.
"It's me — Bella."
Her grip on his arm loosens; but the intensity of her expression increases tenfold as she searches his face.
"Don't you recognize me?"
"Bella." He repeats the name and allows the syllable to roll off his tongue like honey; and then he offers her a bright smile. "A name fitting for such a beautiful woman."
Her hand drops to her side; and she looks at him. Really looks. At his smile. At everything. A very quiet voice at the back of his head whispers, 'what do you think she sees?'
"Haha, lo siento," he chuckles lightly, "but I think you've got the wrong person, Bella. "
She starts at his laugh. She tries to hide how his laugh affects her, but her expression betrays her. It is a nostalgic expression. Yes, she has definitely heard such a laugh before. A very long time ago. A distant memory—-
—but the Spaniard does not notice these nuances in the woman's manners at all.
"My name is Toni." He says firmly as if those four words explain it all.
Her expression turns incredulous. Disbelieving. Almost angry. This changes however, as her green gaze rises up towards the bandages wrapped around his head.
"Ay," he laughs as he noticed her gaze; he gestures offhandedly to his temple, "I got into an accident around last week."
The woman, Bella, quickly closes her gaping mouth. She blinks at him and whips her head around in all directions — her golden hair spirals out like rays of the sun. She's looking for something. Or maybe her neck has spazzed out all of a sudden. Toni isn't too sure. Whatever it is, the matter is soon resolved; and the woman returns her attention to the Spaniard.
"My mistake." She says slowly. There is hesitation in her voice. "I…"
Toni cocks his head at her curiously. She averts her gaze.
"Ah," he claps his hands suddenly causing her to start, "would you like to be my hat judge for today?"
"Judge?" She repeats with slightly raised brows.
"Si," Antonio nods as he pulls a straw hat off of its hook, "you can never to be sure if you've chosen the right hat or not!"
"I…" Her gaze drifts towards the crowded streets, before she finally offers a smile. "I suppose I could."
He beams at her.
…
Lovino skids to a stop in front of an accessory stall that seems to sell straw hats. He slams his hands down on the counter to reign in the shop owner's attention.
"Oi, bastardo," Lovino pants at him, "did you see a Spanish man walking past here?"
"Excuse me?" The stall manager questions — almost sneers — with a raised eyebrow. The man has a strange accent that Lovino can't place.
Lovino recoils slightly.
The manager looks tough — not too tough though. His skin is dark — almost as dark as Antonio's; and his hair is several shades darker and somewhat unruly. There is a shadow cast over his face which makes it difficult for Lovino to judge his appearance.
Yeah, I can totally take down this bastard if I wanted to. Even if I don't have my gun on me! Even if this bastard has a fuckin' height advantage.
"Excuse me, sir," the stall manager clears his throat. "Is there something I can help you with?"
"W-What?" Lovino scowls, once again speaking before thinking. "Are you deaf? I asked you if you saw a Spanish-looking guy pass by you're shitty stall earlier today!"
The man pauses and observes Lovino silently. The latter shrinks somewhat under the gaze.
"What's he look like?" The man asks as he rubs his stubbled chin.
"Green eyes.." Lovino grunts impatiently. "Very smiley. Laughs at almost everything?"
"Ah!" The man's eyes widen at the description; and he claps his hands. "Yes, that man! Toni or something was it?"
"Yes!" Lovino exclaims. "Toni!"
"Yeah, he stopped by here about half an hour ago." The man grunts in response. "Bought a sunhat with some lady—"
"The bastard was with somebody?" Lovino raises an irritated brow.
"Yeah, a real pretty lady." The man nods. "Tall, blonde, green eyes…"
Lovino doesn't need to hear the man finish to know what "pretty lady" the man refers to. He remembers the pretty lady the man speaks of. He remembers seeing her sway hesitantly by Antonio Fernandez Carriedo side all those weeks before. He remembers, and he pales at a sudden realization.
He is too late.
"Yeah, lady acted like she knew the guy but it was apparently a case of mistaken identity."
Lovino's head perks up at the new information.
"What did you say?"
"She thought he was some Antonio guy or whatever but he cleared it up and said that he was Toni." The man explains. "They tried on some hats after that and left together."
Lovino allows an expression of confusion to smooth over his face.
There's no way that the woman didn't recognize Antonio. No way at all.
He realizes that he might as well just turn back now. The man is probably already with his old famiglia. Lovino pales even more at this realization.
What if that idiota tells them about me?! I'll have to relocate!
He shakes his head roughly.
Wait. Wait. I don't even know if it's the same lady. It could be some other blond chick.
"Which way were they headed, dammit?"
The man points to a direction south; and Lovino departs without another word.
That idiota is so fucking dead!
…
Antonio and Bella stride down the cobblestone streets side-by-side. The man's pace is leisurely and relaxed, while the woman walks with a hesitant gait. Although they're walking styles differ, they share one similarity — they both carry straw hats. The woman's straw hat rests deftly on her golden curls, while the man's straw hat dangles behind him from a nylon rope around his neck.
Every so often, the woman spares the man a glance; but the humming man does not notice this.
"So Toni," the woman finally speaks in a hesitant tone, "... what do you do for a living?"
"I'm a part-time maid." He answers her matter-of-factually.
"A maid?!" She squeaks. She looks somewhat peeved, angry and upset even. "But you're…!"
"Hm?" He turns to her questioningly.
"I-it's nothing!" She waves him off with a nervous laugh. Her slender fingers toy with the brim of her hat. "So… Who are you a maid for?"
"Ah," he laughs, "for my roommate Roma!"
"Roommate?" She repeats in slight disbelief.
"Si, he's kind of mean." Antonio explains with a cheerful tone. "But I can tell he's a really decent person. He's been taking care of me ever since my accident, although he doesn't like admitting it for some reason…."
"I see…" Bella murmurs contemplatively. "What was your roommate's name again?"
At the question, Antonio's face immediately brightens. It brightens so much that it nearly brings tears to Bella's eyes.
"Roma!" He responds enthusiastically, before he laughs. "He doesn't like it when I call him that though. He gets all embarrassed for some reason… His real name is Romano!"
The tears are gone. An expression of utter horror has taken its place. Bella is so caught up in her horror that she nearly trips over her own two feet. Antonio catches her, however, and peers down at her worriedly.
"Dios mio, are you alright, Bella?"
His touch is firm yet gentle, so unlike—
Bella shakes her head, straightens herself, peers into Antonio's face with furrowed eyebrows.
"Romano?" She repeats the name in a harsh whisper. "Sicario Romano?"
"Que? Do you know him?" Antonio answers her in confusion. "I don't know about 'Sicario' being Roma's first name though. I've always thought that Romano was his first name."
Her green eyes widen slightly, and she pales. She leans forward and grips his upper arms tightly.
"Listen to me, Antonio. You need to stay away from that Romano." Bella whispers. "He is dangerous! Does he know who you are?"
"What are you talking about?" Antonio tilts his head in confusion. "Roma isn't dangerous. I mean, sure, he can be a bit violent and mean sometimes but that doesn't mean that he's dangerous." His smile falls slightly. "I don't think it's right for a person to be judged without getting better known first."
Bella parts her mouth wordlessly, before she bites her lips. She has so many things she wants to say to the man, so many things she wants to warn the man about, so many things she wants to tell this man about; but she also wants to preserve this man.
"Say," Antonio says, his smile brightening suddenly, "there's no point in arguing about Roma when we aren't even sure if we're talking about the same Roma, si? It'd just tire us out eventually." He pauses suddenly and studies her. A strange expression — a serious one — crosses his face. "Did you just... call me 'Antonio' again?"
"A mistake!" She finds herself laughing abruptly, painfully. She takes his hand in hers. "Ah, have you seen the fountain at the center of the town?"
His serious expression dissipates at her laugh.
"A fountain?" He repeats with a curious smile.
"Y-Yes," she nods a little bit too enthusiastically, as she tugs him down an alleyway, "here, I'll show you!"
…
Lovino finds himself lost in the town square. He feels absolutely disgusting. The hot sweat he has accumulated throughout the day has become like glue, forcing his clothing to adhere to his skin. The burning sensation — either from too much hot air or too much cold air — in his lungs reignites whenever he sucks in a shaky breath.
Dammit…!
The Italian doubles over and grips his knees tightly with his hands. They throb — his hands, his legs, his arms. Everything throbs.
Everything is cloudy too. It's like he has sunken into a haze, a haze of exhaustion.
Lovino doesn't understand how he is even standing at this point. He wonders why he hasn't collapsed from exhaustion yet. Stamina had never been his forte.
Where the hell is that bastard?!
With effort, he raises his head and angrily — no, desperately — scans the crowd swaying around him. The sky has darkened considerably, so he has trouble registering their features and identifying their demeanors. However, the lights from the lamps surrounding the square suddenly buzz on; and everything becomes bathed in painful brightness. But everything is still hazy and muddled.
Don't tell me that the lady really was…?
The only things that the young man can hear are his own heavy panting and a high-pitched ringing. The two sounds drown out every other noise — the faint sound of pattering water, the mumbles and whispers of the crowd around him, the faint buzzing of the idly floating lightbugs.
Everything.
Everything is drowned out by the cacophony.
But then, there is a single prick of noise that sounds neither like ringing nor panting.
Lovino's head perks up at the foreignness. He strains his ears, hold his breath, waits.
Twngggg!
There. There it is again. That sound. Lovino recognizes it.
Twng! Twng! Tvvvvng!
He has heard it so many times before in the background of La Casa Y Aqua during dramatic "passionate" scenes. Yes, he recognizes that musical sound.
You've got to be kidding me…!
Without a drop of hesitation or hint of exhaustion, Lovino dashes for the sound.
…
The fountain is one of the most beautiful things he has ever laid eyes on in what little he can remember of his life. It is chiseled from what appears to be white limestone; and it rises up like a behemoth from a large rectangular pool. Water spurts from its top and trickles down its steps and then down into the basin.
"Dios mio, Bella!" Antonio exclaims as he grabs the woman by the shoulder, pulls her close, and points to the thing excitedly. "Look at how big it is! It's asombroso!"
And he begins to quickly, rapidly fire off words in that musical language of his. His excitement is simple and child-like but bright as well.
"Yes, well," Bella laughs pleasantly in his hold, "it's a knockoff of the one in Venice, but it's still pretty great, huh?"
They walk to the edge of the fountain together — a difficult feat due to the fact that the area around the fountain is so crowded. A faint mist breezes against their skins as they come to a stop besides the pool.
Antonio collapses on the edge of the fountain and let's out a heavy but pleasant sigh.
"Ay, it's been such a long day." He says as he tilts his head back to observe the waterworks. "It's nice to sit down and relax a bit."
He gestures for the woman to sit down next to him; and she complies without much hesitation. They sit in silence. The woman continues to give the man side glances just as she had done earlier in the day, but this time the man notices.
"Is there something on my face?" He asks, peering into her face.
"Ah, no!" She laughs nervously as she hides in her golden hair. "Not at all…"
"Hm, alright."
The man seems to take it in stride.
"By the way, where are you from? You sound like you kind of have an accent."
"Belgium." Bella replies curtly. "Although I lived in Madrid for a couple of years." She eyes him again.
"Madrid?" The man frowns a rare frown in turn. "Isn't that the capital of Spain?"
"Yes…" The woman breathes quietly.
They gaze at each other for a moment. Their eyes are only several shades different in color from each other. Forest green against emerald green.
The sky is finally beginning to darken. The bright blue backdrop of the sky has dimmed into an almost purplish hue. The color blends in with the the rosy pink that surrounds the orange disk of the sun that peeks in between the stone villas.
The lamp posts surrounding the square hum and then flicker on. Strange shadows are cast over the fountain — over faces. In the darkness, shades of green seem to glow.
It is then that the woman finally notices the contraption strapped to the man's back. Her eyes widen slightly at the sight; and her expression becomes somewhat mischievous—
"Can you play?"
The man follows her gaze; and his smile returns to his face once more.
"I'm not sure." Antonio hums as he unstraps the thing from his back and rests it on his lap. After a short pause, he runs his fingers along the strings that run up its neck and then hoists the thing up with his right hand.
Right hand on the neck, and left arm strung over the body.
The woman observes him.
He runs his fingers along the brass strings once, twice, thrice. His right fingers glide and find spaces on the thing's neck that are "just right"; they press down on them.
His left hand goes flying over the strings.
A musical sound erupts. But then—
"Bella?"
A man with hair like straw appears out from the crowd and calls out to the woman. She shoots up at the call like a volt of electricity has just been sent through her body.
"B-Brother!" She calls out to the man and holds her hands out as if to calm him. "I-I can explain. Just don't…!"
But it's too late. The man's blue eyes lock onto the Spaniard's face. And, like a whiplash, he takes a step forward and grabs the Spanish man by the scruff of his shirt. The man's knuckles are as white as marble and almost camouflage with the white of the tanner man's shirt.
"Brother, wait!"
The man glares blue daggers at Antonio. Stabs him over and over with his eyes but…
"Lo siento! Did you not like my playing?"
There is no indication that the Spanish man even remotely registers the threat. The blue-eyed man silently seethes at this response before his eyes flicker down towards the guitar held loosely in the other man's hand.
"Brother," Bella whispers as she grabs the blue-eyed man's arm, "let me explain."
The addressed side glances at the woman before returning his gaze to the nervously smiling man.
"Jan."
The name is said calmly, but firmly. The grip on the blue-eyed man's arm tightens.
Jan releases his hold on Antonio.
A very quiet voice at the back of Toni's head whispers, 'Are you really going to let him treat you like that?'
"Let's discuss this over there." Bella jerks her blonde head in a vague direction far off from the fountain. Her eyes fall onto Antonio's face, and they register the fact that there is a slight frown there. "I'll be back in a couple minutes, Toni."
Her smile is forced.
Antonio can see that it is. He can always tell — whether an emotion is forced or not that is. Now, the reason behind those forced or true emotions he could never figure out. He never cared to — a voice whispers this information to him at the very back of his mind.
"I'll be waiting." He responds with half-hearted cheer back to her.
He watches as the two disappear into the crowd, and he thinks.
Why is that man so mad at him?
An overprotective brother? Maybe. Yes, that seems very likely.
Antonio continues to mull as he plops down in his former pseudochair. His fingers find their way around the guitar again and, without him even ordering them to do so, they play.
…
Lovino pushes past the brambles of human bodies that have overgrown the town square. They fight back against him; they too are curious; they too want to find out where that music is coming from. But Lovino has always been good at getting his way through crowds, so he — while spewing angry curses and handing out scowls — forces his way into the center of the plaza. Stumbles forward and looks up.
It's just like a scene from a telenovela.
There's a great stone fountain that rains out a heavy downpour of clear water. The droplets twinkle and reflect the orange light of the lamp posts like stars in the blue darkness. Fireflies float lazily amongst everything like they are embers from a long put out fire.
Sitting in front of this idyllic backdrop is Antonio Fernandez Carriedo. The bandage wrapped around his forehead looks like it is in need of change, but other than that nuance the man looks... normal. (He looks like 'Toni', and Lovino can't help but feel the burning sensation in his lungs lessen at the realization). The man's bright green eyes are serene; and they focus intently on the object held in his hands and resting on his lap. A guitar. His fingers dance across it madly; they pluck at the strings skillfully; it's like they're dancing on the neck of the instrument.
And the music resonating from the hollow thing is beautiful. Each thrum! that hits the air resonates with Lovino's heartbeat. He can do nothing but stare in awe at both the sight and the sound.
Thrum-thrum! Thrum!
Thump-thump! Thump!
Yes, it is just like a telenovela. All that is missing is the appearance of the love interest.
The melodious thrums stop abruptly; and Lovino thinks that his heart almost stops as well.
"Roma?"
…
When Antonio sees Lovino at the edge of the crowd from the corner of his eye, he can't help but feel a burst of [happiness] explode in his chest. The man cannot really explain it, but this [happiness] is not the "happiness" he feels when he watches telenovelas nor is it the "happiness" he feels on a daily basis. If anything, it's comparable to the happiness he feels when Romano watches telenovelas with him. Yes, it's that kind of "happiness".
But why is he feeling such "happiness"?
Because he is excited. He is excited to tell Roma about his day. To tell Roma about the girl who he had tried sunhats on with and about her strangely intimidating brother. To tell him about how amazing the water fountain behind him is. To tell him about how he can play music like it was second nature.
So he hops to his feet and bounds over to the Italian who stands in place with widened eyes and parted lips.
Bella —
— the voice does not whisper this to him. No, he himself thinks these words suddenly as he observes the Italian—
— beautiful.
It is then that the Spanish man wonders how exactly the Italian had found him in such a place, so he asks him such.
Lovino stares blankly at Antonio. He stares blankly at Antonio before his mouth morphs into its characteristic scowl.
"'How did I 'find you', you bastard?" Lovino hisses as he grabs the man by his scruff. "I fuckin' scoured the entire town looking for you!"
"Que?" Antonio responds in confusion; his smile falters slightly. "Why would you do that? You saw my note, didn't you?"
There is a pause and then a recoil.
"Yes, I saw your stupid note, you dumb ass!" Lovino growls, his face burning a bright shade of red. "It was the only reason I knew you weren't fucking kidnapped or something!"
"Kidnapped?" Antonio laughs as he holds up his hands in mock defense. "Why would I have been kidnapped?"
"Because you're stupid, that's why!" Lovino responds heatedly, shaking the man even more roughly. "Stupid enough to go outside even though I told you not to!"
"Aw, Roma," Antonio chuckles, his eyes brightening and his smile softening, "were you that worried about me?"
There is a pause again; and Lovino freezes mid scowl. His face darkens into an even deeper shade of red. Like a tomato, Antonio wants to say — but he doesn't. He doesn't, because he realizes something. He realizes that something in Lovino's demeanor is forced. Now, he doesn't know what it is that is being forced nor why it is being forced, but he wants to know the reason behind it. Even though that strange voice at the back of his head tells him that he never cared for those types of things, Toni wants to know.
…
Of course I was fucking worried!
"Why the hell would I be fucking worried about you?" Lovino hisses. "I just didn't want to lose my fucking part-time maid, you bastardo!"
Antonio simply laughs that care-free musical laugh of his. "Ay, sonrisa, Roma! I'm okay. See?" He gestures to his body plainly. "I'm alright!"
"I don't care if you're alright!" Lovino scowls as he prepares to swat the man over the head; he pauses, eyes the bandages wrapped around the man's head, and punches the man in the stomach instead. "You bastard!"
"Ow!" Antonio winces as he doubles over at the dull pain. "What was that for?!"
"For making me run around town all day, dammit!"
Antonio perks his head up at the statement; and Lovino finds himself staring down into a pair of strangely warm eyes.
"Sorry," Antonio offers a small smile — different from the other ones he has worn, "for worrying you, Romano."
Lovino can only stare at him. Stare at him and regret the fact that he had punched the man in the first place. But then Lovino remembers something. He remembers that the town square is crowded and that all eyes are on them. He remembers how devastating the name 'Romano' can be.
"Shut up, you bastardo!" Lovino hisses as he runs to Antonio and clamps his hand over the Spaniard's mouth.
The Spanish man furrows his eyebrows in confusion at the action and tries to peel the clammy hand away. Lovino fights back against him which simply causes Antonio to fight back in turn.
"Rom...mf!" Antonio mumbles through the mask of meat. "What's wrong, Roma?"
"Don't say that name!" Lovino scowls, clamping his hand even tighter over the man's mouth.
"But whymmmf?" Antonio frowns at him in confusion. "That's your name…"
"Shut up! No, it isn't!" Lovino whispers heatedly to the man. He snaps the next two phrases without thinking once again: "Lovino! My name is Lovino Vargas!"
Why the fuck did I just—?!
"Que?" Antonio whispers, craning his head back to study the Italian. "But how come you said that you're name was Roma—mmmf!"
"I lied!" Lovino snaps quickly, once again not thinking. "I was embarrassed about my real name! It's stupid sounding!"
Antonio ceases his struggling and relaxes in the Italian's grasp. He leans back against the Italian's body and cranes his neck again. Their eyes meet.
"Lovino is not a stupid sounding name." Antonio laughs. "If anything, it's a very beautiful name…. Plus, you can make it into a very cute nickname too — Lovi!"
As soon as the diminutive reaches Lovino's ears, he swears loudly, embarrassedly and shoves the man to the side.
"Don't call me that, dammit!"
"Oh, Lovi!" Antonio chirps suddenly, seeming to not notice the Italian's flustered expression; he swings the guitar over his back. "I need to show you my friend Bella!"
"Bella…?" Lovino frowns. He is too bothered by this information to even care about the embarrassing nickname at the moment. "Who is that?" He pauses, his eyes widening; and he grips Antonio's arms tightly with his hands. "Wait… was she a very hot blonde lady? Was there a creepy looking bastard with blonde hair with her?"
"Si!" Antonio blinks in surprise. "But how did you know that? Are you psychic?"
"Shit!" Lovino hisses. "Where are they? Did you get away from them? Did they ask you anything? Did they take you anywhere?"
"Uhm…" Antonio frowns, his eyebrows furrowing; he wracks his brain before he gestures towards the crowd. "They walked over there a while ago for some reason. They didn't really ask me anything, but they kept mistaking me for someone else which was weird… And Bella took me here I guess, but nowhere else…" He tilts his head slightly. "I think I answered everything…"
Lovino can't help but feel a slight breath of relief enter his chest at the given information.
So he didn't even realize that he was the Antonio that they were talking about; and he still doesn't know about the famiglia business. Talk about fucking dense! But…
"Forget those bastards." Lovino grumbles, jerking his head back in the general direction of his apartment. "Let's go back home."
"But Bella asked me to wait for her." Antonio smiles, earning a deep grimace from the Italian.
Before Lovino can respond, however, a business-looking woman approaches them from out of the crowd. Her hair is held in a tight bun; and a pair of square-rimmed glasses are perched on the edge of her nose. She comes to a stop in front of Antonio, and it is evident that the latter can tell that she is a very serious woman.
"Excuse me," the woman clips in an almost regal tone, "but do you happen to be the man who was playing that music earlier?"
— the woman has asked such a thing even though she can clearly see the guitar hanging off of Antonio's back.
"Si, I am." Toni blinks, turning to face her with a grin. "Why do you ask?"
"Well," the woman explains as she pushes up her sunglasses, "I happen to be a representative of Roderich Musical Industries, and —"
It is as if the woman's words are a spark to a flame, a catalyst for a chemical reaction, the first domino to fall.
The flame, the chemical reaction, the other dominoes? Those things are akin to the crowd gathered around them.
"Did she just say Roderich Musical Industries?"
"Is that man going to be recruited?"
"He's practically a star!"
"He's really handsome! He has it in him! Look at him!"
"Hey, hey, can I have your autograph for the future?"
"Yeah, yeah, you're autograph!"
Antonio laughs in nervous confusion as the space around him begins to shrink. The woman standing beside him is soon swallowed by the crowd — not before she gives several shouts of indignation, that is. He turns to Lovino for an explanation but sees that the man is utterly confused as well. The fact that crowd is slowly descending upon them does not help either of their confusions.
So, Lovino once again does something without thinking. He grabs Antonio's arm, and he begins running.
"L-Lovi?!"
The Italian ignores the Spaniard's shout of confusion and drags him along in his mad dash. They run up the dimly lit cobblestone streets and deep into the night.
"L-Lovi, slow down! Ahaha…."
Lovino does not slow his pace. Instead, he throws a glance over his shoulder to glare at the man. While he does so, he finds a horrifying sight lying behind him. Several persons from the crowd including the Roderich representative are tailing them from behind.
"What the actual fuck?! What's wrong with them?!"
Lovino increases his pace much to the Spaniard's apparent chagrin. At this point, the man is barely touching the ground. He is being dragged around like a rag doll.
Suddenly, the exhaustion of the day begins to wreak its toll on the Italian's body. His pace slows abruptly, and he comes to a halting, panting stop.
"G-God dammit!" He spits between breaths.
He doubles over and glances at Antonio — at Antonio's face, and then at Antonio's arm which he is still gripping tightly. With a reddening face, he releases the man from his hold.
At this point, he is too out of breath to shout angrily at the man ("This is all your fucking fault!"). Instead, all he can do is watch as the handful of people from the crowd draw nearer and nearer. Grimacing, he pulls his hand away from the man and accepts his fate.
But then the unexpected happens.
Antonio reaches down and grabs the hand that Lovino has begun to pull away. Their fingers meet, spread apart, intertwine. A perfect fit.
"What the hell—"
Antonio grins brightly before laughing and breaking out into a run.
He does not run so fast as to leave Lovino dangling behind him; rather, his pace is easy and energetic. A hop and a step.
Lovino stares at the man incredulously. Tries to figure out what to say. Tries to figure out if he should break free from the man's grasp. But his mind is too muddled with heat and exhaustion to figure out anything at all.
And then Antonio looks back at him with the corners of lips twitching upwards. A laugh escapes his mouth. It's light, electric, long, and infectious — very infectious.
Invisible hands begin to tug at Lovino's own lips; and they reach down to tickle his stomach. He tries to fight it at first, but that only brings tears to his eyes. So he gives in and laughs. Laughs loudly and uncontrollably.
It's a clear and rich sound that causes Antonio to pause in his own laughter. He cranes his neck again and studies the Italian's expression. His eyes trace the man's mouth, the man's watering eyes, the man's shaking body. And after this short pause, he throws his head back and laughs again. Increases his pace.
The night suddenly becomes clear, sharp, and filled with energy. It's as if it has suddenly become electrified — frozen over, even.
And so for a moment, as Lovino flies up the cobblestone streets hand-in-hand with the Spaniard, he forgets. He forgets that the man he is holding hands with is dangerous. He forgets that he himself is dangerous. He forgets how troubling his situation is. He forgets all of those things; and for a moment, they are just two ordinary men running into the night.
They run and they run — their shoes clip, clop against the worn down rock of the road — with Antonio in the lead. But that changes suddenly and abruptly. As they pass by a cross section in the stone path, Lovino jerks Antonio's body to the right; and together they go flying and laughing down the alleyway.
Lovino leads them down twists and turns of the backwater streets until finally they reach the apartment. They enter the building and scramble up several flights of stairs — never stopping for even a breath.
Their only brief solace comes when Lovino pauses by his apartment door to fumble for his keys. The keys are found; the brass slides into the lock; and the door swings open.
The two men fall forwards into the room in a panting, heaving mess. Antonio collapses onto his stomach, while Lovino falls on all fours.
Then there is just heavy panting and deep breaths.
Antonio lifts his head and turns to Lovino as his breathing evens. Their gazes meet.
Antonio chuckles tiredly, quietly; but his chuckle is like wood to a dying flame. Lovino mirrors it half-smiling, half-scowling and continues to mirror it until he is fully smiling.
Their laughter — they're laughing at how ridiculous their situation has become — floods the room.
Yes, they are just two ordinary men.
casa [Spanish]
home (noun) / a place where a person can never feel alone, a place to return to after a grueling day, a place Antonio and Lovino share
"L-Ludwig, help! There's something wrong with Lovino! He's laughing!"
— such a shout cuts Lovino's laughter short. His smile drops clean off of his face; and his rapidly beating heart feels as if a nail has just been run through it. Slowly, painfully, he turns his head towards the open door. Antonio, still chuckling ever so slightly, follows his gaze.
Fuck me.
Quivering by the doorway with a worried expression is Feliciano Vargas. Standing behind him and wearing a confused expression is Ludwig.
The air is thick and suffocating.
"Woah," Antonio blinks as he rises into a sitting position, "how come there are two Lovis?"
Fuck me.
Before Lovino can spew out angry words at either of the men, another figure appears panting at the doorway. Lovino recognizes the figure immediately, as does Feliciano. While the latter feels a short burst of joy at the sudden appearance, the former feels utter dread.
Fuck me.
"Hey, Nico!" Feliciano grins, throwing his arms around the panting man. "It's been so long! How are you doing?"
FUCK me.
"Mister Vargas?" Nico the transporter asks more so than greets. He blinks at Feliciano in confusion before he turns his eyes on Lovino — on the man sitting next to Lovino. And then, he screams.
…
Meanwhile, the Roderich Representative and a handful of others from the crowd are still scouring the streets. They are all panting and wheezing and coughing and dragging their feet along the ground.
They just don't understand. They just don't understand their current situation at all.
The representative doubles over and grips a bulging wallet tightly in her hands.
"We just… wanted to… return his… wallet…."
A/N: wow, such a long chapter this time xD.
Anyways, thanks to all those who followed, favorited, and reviews! Your lovely reviews help me improve and give me motivation to write more so many thanks for that! Now excuse while I write up a six page progress report on my proposal that's due next week.