The next morning it was still raining heavily, you shivered as the air caressed your arms while you rose from the heavy covers. You stretched the cramped muscles, and then got up to look decent before checking on Antonio. You were sure that you wouldn't get into much trouble today but why'd you get that disturbed feeling while you walked through the dim, gray hall? You gulped shakily before power walking to the guest room where Antonio lodged for the night. Your chilly hands rapped the wooden door, in response…no answer.
Again, you knocked.
No answer.
"Antonio?"
You knocked harder on the pale door once again.
Still, no answer.
Fear gripped your throbbing heart with its cold, deathly hands. Frantically you wringed the brass knob, as you flung the door open not caring whether you caught him half-dressed or what, just as long as he was alright.
He was there alright judging by the lump from under the thick covers, you approached the bed inaudibly with long strides. The room was strangely cold and eerie, you noted. His back was turned towards you, a mess of richly brown colored locks popping from the warm covers.
"Antonio?"
Your fears were confirmed, why wasn't he breathing? You pulled back the covers with a desperate yank, your face paled as pale as the once tan arms of the still Spaniard were. Your fingers shakily reached to touch his turned shoulder—it was cold. And the exposed skin of his neck was a lighter color than his once bronzed skin. Tears flooded your eyes and flowed down your tense features as you turned his body to get a better look.
Antonio was pale, insipid, and showed no signs of breathing. His lively verdant eyes were closed and his pale lips were drawn into a line, as strands of chestnut hair fell from his cold face. You felt yourself choke in your own tears as every unpleasant feeling that ever existed overwhelmed you.
"N-no, no! Not yet! Antonio?!"
No matter how many times you shook him or called out his name repetitively, you received no response.
You gripped his lifeless body tightly in an embrace; your tears fell on his tranquil face as you regretted many things you haven't done regarding him. At that moment, if he would never wake, you wanted to end up like him—dead.
"(Name), (Name)! Chica!"
You were shook awake from the nightmare. Instantly, you took a sharp breath whilst salty tears clouded your hazy vision as well as the darkness of your cold bedroom. You could make out a faint outline of a certain Spaniard you had just dreamt terribly of. You were being leant to the brown head board as you regained your breathing slowly, tears never ceasing to fall. You fixed your blurry gaze on your lap under the covers, as you wept silently, burying your exhausted face in your hands.
Familiar hands took your wrists away from your face with care as your shaking arms fell limp at yours sides. One of those hands brushed away tufts of (color) hair from your sweaty forehead while the other tenderly caressed your cheeks, wiping away the tears.
"Estoy aqui. You're alright."
Antonio reassured softly as he continued to do his ministrations. He was wide-awake the whole night feeling very odd, and then felt the urge to rise as he decided to get a glass of water. He heard soft whimpers from your room as he stumbled through the dark hall and you can guess what happened next. The Spanish male moved in closer to wrap his arms around you.
But you were quicker,
You suddenly threw yourself on him, wrapping your arms around his firm waist, burying your head on his already warmed chest. He was taken aback but nevertheless he absently brought his hand up to pet your head, smoothing the tangled (color) locks. He was even more astonished at the next words you sobbed in his chest, with a death grip you clutched the back of the borrowed white shirt he wore. And though the sentences were incomprehensible, he heard the answer he yearned for very well, it brought joy and unintended tears to him after he overcame his shock,
"I'm sorry Toni! I really am, p-please…please don't… I-I do! Yes, I still do love you. I still do, I still do…"