Um, so this was SUPPOSED to not be written for at LEAST two days. But I guess I'm on a writer's binge, or something like that, so I just HAD to write it. Um, yeah...
I'm a total fangirl, now. I'm eating churros that I made as I type this up, while listening to one of the six marukaite chikyuu versions I put on my ipod, along with a bunch of hetalia character songs (obsessed? who me?). Ahaha, my friends will laugh when I tell them tomorrow about it. Then they'll stop laughing once I give them churros and proceed to encourage my fangirlism.
So here we go! Chapter four of Love is Never Forgotten!
Lovino's stubborn resolution wavered when he stepped into the room where the meeting was to be held.
There were so many nations, and they were all so loud. Some were chattering about mundane things, and others were debating world issues, while others were just arguing for the sake of arguing. It was all too much for Lovino, who up until then never had to deal with large crowds.
He moved behind Antonio, grabbing the back of the Spaniard's shirt nervously. Antonio looked back to give him a reassuring smile, then continued to lead Lovino into the heart of the commotion.
A few people gave him curious glances. All of the nations (or at least the ones that paid any attention at all) knew Lovino lost his memory, and many of them were wondering if he gained a more likable personality because of it.
He scowled when he felt their eyes on him, but kept his own focused directly in front of him (specifically Antonio's back). His grip on Antonio's shirt tightened.
"How many times are you going to come up with those idiotic schemes, America? They are so flawed that—!" Arthur was in the middle of a rant when Antonio and Lovino emerged from the crowd to the opposite side of the room.
"Oh, hey, it's South Italy! Hey, Romano!" Alfred pointedly cut Arthur off to say hi to the half-nation.
"Um, hey?" Lovino replied, looking up at Antonio with a silent question.
Antonio laughed a little. "This is Alfred. He represents America. And that," he said, jerking his head in the direction of the indignant nation, "is Arthur of England."
Arthur sniffed in a haughty manner. "That would be The Great British Empire to you," he said.
Alfred laughed and clapped Arthur on the back. "What empire? You're just a bunch of droopy, depressing islands above Europe!" he teased.
"Watch your mouth, you brat! I'm the one who raised you!"
The American only laughed at Arthur's attempts to act superior. "You're so tiny, too! If anyone is an empire, wouldn't that be me?" he asked.
His words rang true. Besides Mexico, Alfred represented a nation that ruled North America. Or was there someone else? Lovino was sure there were three nations in North America, but he couldn't quite remember who. He shrugged it off as memory loss.
"Did someone say empire?" Russia appeared among the group so suddenly that Alfred screamed like a little girl.
"I—Ivan, don't scare us like that!" Alfred said, putting a hand over his heart.
Arthur laughed nervously, trying to cover his own fright. "Ahaha, you were scared, Alfred? How wimpy!" he said, although he'd nearly screamed just as loud and girly-like as Alfred had.
Ivan looked around the group with a creepy smile on his face. "We're creating an empire now? Then all of you can become one with me, da?" he said.
"No, no, we're not creating an empire," Antonio said. Even the oblivious Spaniard looked on-edge with Russia around. "We're just re-introducing Lovino to everyone before the meeting starts."
Ivan looked around Antonio to see the cowering half-nation clutching the back of Antonio's shirt for dear life. He smiled so innocently it sent chills down Lovino's spine.
"That's not how you become one with a nation," he told Lovino in a matter-of-fact way.
"I—I know," Lovino said in a squeaky voice. This Russian nation scared him to no end.
"You don't remember anything, da?" Ivan asked.
Lovino was almost afraid to ask what the creepy nation was getting at. He shook his head in response.
Ivan nodded, looking pleased. "Then you can become one with me, and I will teach you everything you need to know!" he said with a delighted tone that chilled Lovino to the bone.
Lovino had no idea how to respond to that. On one hand, her definitely did not want to become one with this scary nation, or any nation at all for that matter. On the other hand, he was too frightened to decline, imagining all kinds of horrors Russia would bring upon him for his refusal.
Antonio sensed Lovino was increasingly uncomfortable, and jumped in to rescue him. "Well, we should go find Ludwig and Feli before the meeting starts, so we'll talk to you all later!" he said, taking Lovino's hand and dragging him out of the situation.
"A—Antonio, wait!" Alfred gasped. "I'll help you! That's what heroes do, right?"
Antonio gave an obliviously puzzled smile. "Is it now?" he asked.
Alfred nodded in earnest. "It is! So entertain Ivan, Arthur, while I go do hero work, bye!"
The three of them quickly left Arthur to deal with the creepy Ivan. Arthur gaped at them as they abandoned him.
Alfred noted the look of betrayal on Arthur's face with grim amusement. "Well, I'm going to get a big lecture tonight for that," he said, his mouth twisted in a way that looked like he was trying to frown while grinning.
"Why don't you just stay with him then?" Lovino asked, mostly to distract himself from the emotions he felt Antonio holding his hand.
Alfred laughed loudly. "It's worth it to get out of a conversation with Ivan! The guy freaks me out. Which is ok, though, because even heroes have weaknesses sometimes!" he added quickly.
Antonio smiled, nodding in agreement. "Of course they do," he said without a hint of sarcasm or mockery in his voice.
Lovino groaned. "You're all idiots," he muttered under his breath.
The meeting had ended five minutes ago and Antonio still hadn't shown up, leaving Lovino alone in the hall.
He huffed angrily. His brother and Ludwig had gone off to the car already, assigning Lovino to stand outside of the conference room to wait for Antonio. So Lovino was left watching random nations walk through the hall, going about whatever business they had to do.
It was painfully boring.
"Ah, it's little Romano, all alone!"
Lovino sighed. "Not for long, go away," he said harshly.
France gave a dramatic sigh. "So harsh, and you didn't even let me introduce himself!" He moved closer to Lovino.
"Damn it, I'm waiting for Antonio! Go away!" Lovino said, uncomfortable with France's proximity. The bastard nearly freaked him out as much as Russia did.
France launched himself at Lovino, leaning heavily on the smaller nation. "Bastard, get off of me!" Lovino demanded, pushing at France's body with limited success in increasing the distance between them. They were still touching, but not pressed up against each other.
"You remember me, don't you?" France's hungry hands wandered over Lovino's chest as he spoke.
Lovino felt a shiver run down his spine. He pushed the nation's hands away. "No I don't. Were we really this close?" he asked, meaning his question to be taken sarcastically.
Francis didn't take the obvious rejection. "Oui. Very close. In fact, we had a relationship that could only be described as l'amour!" he insisted, moving closer so Lovino was nearly pressed up against the wall.
Merda, where the hell was Antonio when you needed him? "Bullshit. I don't remember that," Lovino counted, itching to kick France's most vital regions. The limited distance didn't give him much opportunity to do that however.
"But you don't remember much at all, oui?" Francis counted. He moved one hand to Lovino's hair, stroking the fine locks lovingly.
If Antonio didn't make a timely appearance soon, Lovino was going to kill that bastard. "I think I'd remember you," he hissed. He seriously doubted he'd forget someone who gave him horrible chills as bad as Francis was that moment.
"I'll take that as a compliment." Before Lovino had a chance to glare and correct him, Francis took hold of his curl and gave if a gentle tug. A jolt of pleasure shot through his body.
"D—damn it," Lovino hissed through his teeth.
"If we weren't close, how would I know about how this curl makes you feel?" Francis asked, pressing up against Lovino, continuing his ministrations to the curl.
"Ah, ngh, s—stop it, ba—ah, b—bastard!" Lovino managed to say, fighting back the pleasure. He hated that the perverted French bastard could make him feel this way so easily.
Francis smirked. Honestly, he'd found out about the curl completely on accident. When Lovino was just a little half-nation living in Spain, he'd watched Antonio play mindlessly with the little curl. While the Spaniard was completely oblivious of the effect his actions had on Lovino, Francis noticed and tucked the information into a little corner of his mind for future use.
"M—merda! Antonio, bastard, save me!" Lovino cried in low, barely audible gasps.
"You know, my axe is getting kind of dull. Do you want to volunteer to help me sharpen it, Francis?"
Francis jumped with a yelp and immediately jumped away from Lovino, who was trying desperately to catch his breath. "A—Antonio!" he gasped, seeing his best friend directly behind him.
Antonio held his huge, disconcerting smile that promised torture and a slow death. "Well? I would like someone to try it on, since it's been so long," he prompted, a subtle threat lying under his innocent tone.
"No, I'm busy! Very busy!" Francis said quickly, putting his hands up as a flimsy barrier between him and his silently bloodthirsty friend.
Antonio's head tilted slightly to the side. "Is that so? Well, then would you mind staying away from Lovi? If you're so busy." He allowed his expression to transform from the false grin to a dark glare.
"Oh, Lovino and I were just playing! Weren't we Lovino?" Francis insisted with a nervous grin.
Lovino glared, his face still flushed from having his curl played with. "Bastard! You were molesting me when Antonio's back was turned!" he said.
"Please stop trying to steal Lovi away or I'll kill you," Antonio said in an innocent voice.
"Your tone doesn't match your words!" Francis pointed out, taking another step back.
Something clicked in Lovino's mind. "Wait. You!" He pointed an accusing finger at Francis.
"Hmm? What about me, mon cher?" Francis asked.
Lovino suppressed a shiver at the endearment. "You're that fucking bastard who was always trying to kidnap me from Spain, aren't you?"
Francis frowned. "That language is so uncute, Lovi," he whined.
"Fuck you! Don't call me Lovi, damn it!" Lovino yelled.
Francis smiled delightedly. "Oh, so you do remember me!"
"Maybe later," Francis said, and then jumped back as Antonio took a threatening step forward. "I'm just kidding! I'm really busy! Things to do before the meeting starts, you know!"
Antonio turned to Lovino with a more genuine smile. "Are you ok, Lovi? Francis plays around so much, and sometimes he goes a little too far," he explained apologetically.
Lovino gaped at him. "Playing? He was sexually harassing me! You guys have a strange sense of humor!"
"I'm sorry, Lovi. I won't let anyone hurt you, I promise!" Antonio said.
Lovino's heart ached at Antonio's words. "You already broke your promise," he said in a quiet voice.
Antonio gave Lovino a puzzled look. "What do you mean?" he asked.
The Italian looked up at Antonio, the faintest hint of tears in his eyes. "You promised me you'd never leave me! And then you went off somewhere and I almost got raped!" he said.
Antonio was taken aback by Lovino's wild accusation. "R—raped, Lovi? Francis wouldn't do that," he insisted in an uneven tone, too upset by Lovino's anger to be thrilled about the fragmented memories started to surface.
"What if he had? What if he dragged me off somewhere, instead of standing in this hall where anyone could find us, so you couldn't stop him like you always did?" Lovino cried.
The Spaniard had no idea how to respond. He felt confused. There was no helping getting separated from Lovino momentarily when he was held back by Arthur. He never imagined the promise he'd made so sincerely meant staying by Lovino's side every moment of the day. Then again, it was true that not being there put Lovino in danger. He didn't know how to respond.
"L—Lovi…" he began, holding out a hand to touch Lovino's shoulder, in some silent cry for forgiveness of a crime he couldn't understand.
Lovino flinched as his hand came closer, and Antonio froze.
"J—just… Let's go home," Lovino said quietly.
Antonio dropped his hand back to his side and nodded. Lovino kept his eyes trained on the ground so he wouldn't have to see the dejected look on the Spaniard's face, which would twist his heart in guilt.
Merda, Lovino thought bitterly, why the hell does this idiot make me feel this way?
Wait, where'd all that come from? I totally didn't mean for France to be so rapist-like. It was SUPPOSED to be a teasing, light-hearted end, but then the characters apparently decided to hijack the chapter.
Oh well, I guess. See you all next chapter!
Ciao!