Summary; Lovino feels in touch with the world only through his brief, sexual encounters. Desperate not to be alone, he attempts to find someone to hold onto... Only to find himself smitten with an emotionally-troubled Spaniard.
Rating; M. You should know what you're getting into, based on the summary.
Warnings for this chapter; Mentions of sex, implied sex, language.
Pairings; Spamano.
Disclaimer; I do not own Hetalia or the characters. I also do not own Somersault, the movie that this story is based off of.
Notes; Yes, I'm alive! For a while there, my computer and I had a terrible dispute, so I got a new one.
I apologise for this chapter being boring, but the next one, I think, should prove to be much more entertaining! There's always going to be those few chapters, I think. At least in my case.
Regardless, enjoy!
The shrill ringing of the metropolitan station workers' phones echoed throughout the nearly empty, domed station. Lovino walked briskly, shoes tip-tapping along the white, tiled floors and shoulders slightly hunched, as if he were trying to hide himself from the world... And in a way, he was.
Everything had happened so damn fast. One second there was yelling and fighting, he heard his name, and he heard cursing; the next second he was shoving what he could into a small backpack. The walk to the station had taken hours. Lovino felt as though everything around him was moving too fast, sounded too loud; his head was spinning, it was like walking through jello on a hot summer's day rather than a rainy, spring after noon.
With a soft sigh, he sat himself on one of the chairs, the weight of the world seeming to sit right on top of him. He just needed a moment, to figure out what the hell he was doing. Hazel eyes travelled over to the glass, fingerprint-riddled phone booth. He shakily made his way towards it, almost afraid of this piece of technology – it could be the very last thing that linked him to his mother. He shoved a hand in his coat pocket and fingered through it and pulled out a few Euros and pushed them into the slot before entering his home phone number. And then he waited…
And waited…
And waited…
Only to get the answering machine.
He swallowed hard and listened to it – he and his mother laughing and asking whomever might be calling to leave a message. He felt his eyes begin to burn a bit as that beep sounded in his ear. His hands began to shake as he slammed the bulky, metal phone back down onto its receiver, taking a few steps back until his back collided with the phone booth wall.
So, that was it? He wasn't even going to be able to speak to his mother before he left…? His heart felt like it's just been carefully chipped away at, leaving a gaping hole right in the middle of it. He supposed that - that she didn't want him anymore. He couldn't blame her. He wasn't even angry just… Sad. Sad and disappointed.
ooo
"How much is it for a bus ticket to Llanes?" He asked the plump woman behind the glass.
She dragged a finger over her schedule sheet until she came to the small town's name. "That'll be twenty Euros." She answered with a small smile.
"I have a student pass… Can I get a discount?" He asked, reaching into his pocket and pushing the plastic card towards the woman.
"Fifteen Euros." She nodded, printing him a ticket as Lovino passed her the correct amount of money. "The bus leaves in an hour." She informed him.
"Ah, thank you." He muttered, taking the ticket and pocketing it before going back over to the benches to wait. He sat with his hands in his lap and one ear-bud pushed in, playing music that he wasn't really listening to as he stared down at his twiddling thumbs. It was incredible, how lonely he felt. Sure, before all he had an absentee mother and her boyfriend, who he was hopelessly in love with, but now… Now he had no one. The thought only added to the weight on his shoulders.
ooo
An hour later, Lovino stood and went back outside, into the rain. Cliché, he thought, how the weather seemed to match his mood; sorrowful and dull.
Without a word he handed the bus driver his ticket, silently glad that, at the very least, it was warm inside and the seats were covered in what appeared to be relatively new cushioning. With a soft sigh, he adjusted his earphones and turned towards the window, pressing his forehead against the cool glass.
The ride was a long one, spanning from sunset to early sunrise and then sunset again, but Lovino said not a word the entire time. Why should he? Everyone else on this bus seemed to be heading somewhere; they all had a plan and an actual reason for heading to Llanes… They all seemed happy. The Italian envied them. He had nothing and tried so hard to feel nothing, just the small pack on his back and a dying iPod. Nothing sentimental about that. He just wanted to get away.
ooo
The bus finally came to a stop; the sun had set a couple of hours ago and, thanks to the rain, the air had a chilly bite to it. Lovino huffed, pulling his jacket tight around himself and putting up the faux-fur-rimmed hood over his ears as he neared the row of telephone booths. He made sure the Plexiglas door was closed tightly as he pulled out his wallet, the Velcro making a satisfying crunch as he pulled it open and slid one of the cards out of its slot. Looking at the numbers on said business card, he punched them in and impatiently waited for someone to pick up, lithe fingers drumming against the cool wall.
"Hello?" A voice finally asked.
"Hey. Uhm, can I speak to Ross?" He asked, trying to sound as polite as humanly possible.
"One minute." Came the young man's gruff reply. He sounded like he couldn't be much older than Lovino was.
"Ross speaking." Ah, now that was a familiar, Scottish-accented voice. A smile threatened to tug at Lovino's lips as he fingered the phone's curly, black wire.
"It's Lovino." He stated, his voice holding a touch of hopefulness. He had to remember, right?
"Who?" He said, obviously confused.
"Lovino. Lovino Vargas? You gave me your card and said that I could call if I was in Llanes and needed a job?"
"I don't remember that." Ross said, perhaps a bit more quickly than he'd spoken before.
"We met in Madrid!" He tried, biting at his lip.
"Don't call me again." The man on the other line snapped, and moments later all Lovino could hear was the dial tone.
Lovino stood there a moment, lips pressed into a thin line as he sighed though his nose. "Damn it." He muttered, leaning back against the door opposite of him. Maybe Llanes wasn't such a good idea.
Unsure of what else to do, he turned and quickly left the phone booth, cheeks burning a rosy pink. How could he have been so stupid? Of course Ross didn't want anything to do with him; it'd been almost a year now… 'But he said I could have a job…' He thought to himself as he walked along the sidewalk, eyes locked on the sign ahead of him.
Tapas was an awfully typical name for a bar.
Inside, the music was too loud and the dance floor was too crowded. Lovino winced, hunching his shoulders a bit as he pushed his way through the mass of sweaty tourists. As uncomfortable as he felt with his surroundings, hazel eyes immediately began scanning over the various groups, trying to find someone who he might have a chance at staying the night with.
Now, this seemed an unorthodox way of finding a place to room, but Lovino honestly didn't see it that way. He'd been using sex as a means to get the things he wanted for so long… And, at the very least, it made him feel good. 'And I deserve to feel good right now.' He amended, putting on his best smirk as he headed towards the group of young men at the bar who already seemed sufficiently buzzed. It didn't take much to get them to buy him a shot.
Now, the Italian wasn't a big drinker, on account of his mother's problem, but he humoured the group (especially that curly-haired blond who held an obvious interest for the seemingly exotic Italian) by drinking a few beers here and there.
As he grinned at said blond (whose name he didn't catch and didn't care to learn), he failed to notice the pair of emerald-hued eyes set intently on him.
Antonio watched from across the bar as Lovino lifted the mug of beer up to the light and peered through it, scrunching up his face at the way it distorted the faces around him. He couldn't help but wonder where he'd come from – given the young man's distinct features, he was Italian…. But he didn't care so much about that; he was beautiful. The way he sashayed his shoulders and gave a tiny smirk, his thin, but perfectly shaped lips parting and revealing pearly whites when he let out a little laugh was all so alluring. It was near impossible to tear his gaze away from this newcomer, and he would have been perfectly content staring all night had he not had Gilbert with him. The German managed to pull his attention away from the Italian for five split seconds and… Just like that, the next time Antonio looked over to where the group had been, he was gone.
ooo
Blondie, as Lovino had dubbed him, had his arm draped around the Italian's shoulder, his hand rubbing at his shoulder and the other nursing a beer to his chapped lips. They didn't speak as they walked to the trailer where Blondie was staying – Lovino took this time to marvel at the town. The sky was inky black, and because of the rows upon rows of streetlamps, not a single star could be seen. Back home, he could always point out at least one or two of the brighter constellations. He missed that.
"It's not much." Blondie said, his much-too-loud pulling Lovino out of his reminiscing as he struggled to open the squeaky, glass door.
Lovino shrugged, beginning to pull off his jacket as his night's companion did the same. Within seconds, two large, cold hands were sliding over his shoulders, smoothing over his simple, cotton shirt. They kissed, but Lovino didn't put forth much zeal; Blondie wouldn't notice, he was drunk, and Lovino could taste the bitter beer on his tongue. He could already tell that there would be nothing refined about tonight's "dance" but he couldn't bring himself to care.
