AN: Hey, guys! Terribly sorry for the wait, but here is the next chapter of Una Notte A Napoli! So yes, I do have plans to finish this! Just... life suddenly got really busy, haha. Tons of college and yeah... But here you go! Chapter Three! Enjoy

.Day Three.
Love is Fleeting

Calloused fingers danced upon the strings as the gentle music filled the air. He could feel it warming his heart, stilling the air around him. The sound was carried upon the gentle breeze, the warmth caressing his skin and tousling his hair and clothes. His head bobbed slightly with the quiet, gentle melody as a thin, tranquil smile tugged at the corners of his lips. He could feel the moon's light upon his skin, as gentle as ever. It was the kind of tenderness one would see in a mother, tenderly wrapping her child in a loving embrace. Yes, that was the moon on this night, Antonio had decided, as it shone down upon him in all its splendor. With the moon nearly full, it lit the night with a silvery glow, its rays reflecting off the waves as they crashed against the shore. The white sea foam rushed up the sands, only to retreat and repeat the process over. It was such a soothing background for his musical piece, and he tried to accompany it as best as he could.

He could hear the sea singing with his music with each wave, and he would slow his rhythm ever so slightly, where need be, to incorporate it. It only added to the tranquil atmosphere where nothing existed. Here, in this place, there was only him. Him, the sea, and the guitar in his lap. He breathed deeply the scent of the sea, letting the sweet aroma fill his nostrils. He could lose himself here. He had long since forgotten his troubles and worries, letting the warm summer wind carry them away upon her back. His heart had never felt as light as it had this evening, and he was sure that in such a perfect place, there would be no interruptions. There would be only him, and his guitar, and the sea singing its gentle lullaby.

Such a perfect night for him to be sitting upon the sand, the guitar in his lap, his fingers dancing across the strings... He had missed times like these... The sea had always been such a calming thing for him. She always called to him, beckoned him to sit by her and listen to her sweet voice. She would rock him to sleep on nights where his eyelids were mortal enemies of one another. She would listen to the troubles of his heart and mind and give no judgement, only the kind serenity that she had to offer. She, like the moon, had always been the one to dry his tears and quell his anger. Sitting by the shore in the moonlight... It was heaven. He was sure that here was heaven.

And yet, he was not alone. Even as he sat here, with no other body to be found near him, he was not alone. Eyes of green haunted him. Even when he slept, he was not free of them. Their encounter yesterday had not been entirely by chance, he had concluded, for after that day he had spent with him, he could not get those eyes out of his mind. He had dismissed it as nothing. After all, the first he saw of those eyes, they were filled with tears and held a pained longing for something he felt he would never discover. He could still remember them clearly. Through the darkness of the night, through the haziness of intoxication, he could remember them. And they were... beautiful...

Perhaps, he mused, they were the most beautiful things he had ever seen. His song took a gentler approach as he allowed his thoughts to reign his mind, eyelids peeling back ever so slightly. His smile didn't falter. Yes... Eyes of green that hid a variety of emotions... Emotions that he was sure the owner of those eyes was no doubt unsure of how to even portray... In just the short time that he had known him, Antonio could conclude three things about the fiery Italian. One, he never meant what he said. Two, he was not one for showing his emotions, whether it be man or woman. Three, his eyes were the mirrors to his soul, the windows to the emotions that lie within.

It was quite a curious thing, in all honesty... Though their time had been cut short due to a phone call on Antonio's behalf, he had discovered such a wide range of emotions within those pools of green. Anger, fear, regret, doubt, sorrow, loneliness, jealousy... Those were all there. Especially when they spoke of the Italian's younger brother. Yet, there were others... Love. Love had been one that Antonio could see... Even when the Italian would speak ill of his brother, he could see the love that he held for him. The pride of what his younger brother had become. The joy in seeing that he had turned out to be a fine young man. By how Lovino spoke of him, Antonio felt as though he had known the unnamed sibling for an eternity.

But... What was most interesting for Antonio... was not the confusion and bewilderment that would flare up in Lovino's eyes whenever the Spaniard did something the Italian didn't understand. No, it was the passion that burned in his eyes. That man had a fire in his heart - and a strong one. If Antonio had a say in it, it was a fire that he had never seen before in any human being. His song picked up pace as he recalled that flame within those eyes of green. The love for his country, the commitment to his family, the determination in being who he was without giving a care to what anyone thought of him... It all fueled the flame all the more, and Antonio found that it was the most interesting thing about the Italian man.

Lovino had a way of carrying himself, a way of speaking, a way of studying others and their intentions that Antonio had never seen before. It was quite curious. A man with such a sharp tongue usually didn't have the fire to back it up... Usually it was a self-defense for the lack of a fire within his soul, within his heart. But Lovino... No, it was different. His snarky attitude, his verbal lashings, his sharp glare... They were all fueled by that fire. They did not cover up the lack of one. It burned so brightly, Antonio feared that it may consume its owner in due time. And yet, as he had listened to only a few of the tales Lovino had to offer (most consisting of the kinds of trouble he and his brother would get into when they were younger, and thus not worth repeating), he could tell that this fire was not what Lovino had to control; it was what drove him on.

That fire was the reason Lovino lived.

Without that fire, Lovino would cease to exist. And oh, did it make Antonio want to learn even more about him... He was caught by those eyes of green. Entrapped, and could never escape. Every waking moment, they burned into the back of his mind. And when he had laid down to sleep the night before, they were all he could dream of.

Though, he was beginning to realize, it wasn't just those eyes that formed within his mind. No, they were indeed the main focus, but as he continued his song, his eyes closing once more, the features around the eyes began to form. The eyelashes that seemed to be a tad too long for a man's... The eyebrows of which always furrowed in either confusion or annoyance... The defined nose where nostrils would flare in an exasperated sigh... The gentle curve of plush lips, turned down into a gentle frown that never seemed to fade... The strong, sharp jawline of a well-developed man... The dark auburn hair that would sometimes fall into one eye, only to be blown away in annoyance...

He swallowed the lump in his throat as the memory of the man's features came to his mind. He breathed out a sigh through his nose. Here he had known this man for simply a day, and his image was already burned into his mind... They had not even spoken of much that day. They had ran into each other, and Antonio had treated the Italian to lunch as an apology. Then they had wandered the streets of Naples, Lovino protesting any kind of help with his ankle. (Thus, one can only imagine the amount of breaks the two took to simply sit and rest the overused joint.) They spoke of his brother. They spoke of Italy and the various places of beauty - many of which Lovino had apparently already seen in his lifetime. They spoke of music and dance, and food and cultural differences, of stories of the past. They spoke until the sun began to set into the horizon, Lovino kicking at the ground every so often and Antonio stealing glances to the Italian only to realize that they were not too much different in height. (In fact, if anything, Lovino was taller than he.) Then he had received a call, walked Lovino home - who grumbled complaints about his swollen ankle the entire time - and returned to the hotel where his friends awaited him.

Yet with their short time, those eyes stared at him... That face haunted him... That voice gently spoke to him... Even now, he could hear it, calling out to him. Asking him what he was even doing here, on that same beach where he had seen an angel crying in the moonlight.

No. That wasn't his imagination. The music faltered and halted abruptly. His eyes snapped open and he looked up to find that same face looking down at him, annoyance clear on his features.

There, beside him, stood Antonio's angel.

The moon's light shone upon his skin and hair, the water droplets indicating that he had no doubt just recently stepped out of the shower. His shirt wasn't even buttoned up properly, the top two buttons undone. The bottom had been left untucked and the cuffs had been folded up to his elbows. He wore a simple pair of slacks, a pair of shoes dangling from his hand. And as always, those green eyes bore straight into Antonio's soul. He almost feared they could see right through him.

"Lo-"

Lovino snorted, cutting up the name entirely. He rolled his eyes, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "Wow. Stupid and deaf. Should've known."

Antonio couldn't help but to chuckle at the insult. He had learned to simply shrug them off, even in his short time of knowing the other. He leaned over his guitar, folding his hands before him and allowing for his elbows to rest on the wood. "So you've caught me. I, ah," he paused to give a nervous laugh and a sheepish smile, "I get caught up in my playing when there's a guitar in my hands. Lo siento."

The Italian placed himself next to Antonio, tossing his shoes to the sand. He let out a sigh of exasperation. He cast his gaze to the sea. Anything to avoid looking at Antonio. "Not what I was askin' about, but okay." A beat. His gaze flicked to Antonio, but only momentarily. "So are you goin' to stay mute, or are you goin' to answer me?"

Antonio rolled his shoulders, an amused smile on his face. "Depends on what the question is."

"Why the hell are you here again?"

"Am I not allowed to go to the ocean? I heard it's beautiful at night, after all, and the moon is full."

"First off, the moon isn't full. It was full two nights ago. Second, no, you aren't allowed to. If you want to go to the beach, go... somewhere else."

"And where would that be?"

Lovino scowled and rolled his eyes. "I don't know. Any beach but this one!"

"But this one's the best beach in Napoli, I heard." Antonio was careful of the pronunciation this time.

"Yeah, well, I don't care. Just choose a different one."

Antonio couldn't help but to laugh. He, too, looked to the ocean, but not before he caught the other give a quick glance in his direction. His lips took on a gentle smile. "I like this one. If I were to choose any beach, I'd choose this one."

"It's too close to my home, damnit. I hate seein' your ugly mug every damn day."

"Ah, but that's why I like going here in the first place!" Antonio turned his head ever so slightly and gave the other a wink.

Lovino visibly stiffened, his face flushing. Even in the moonlight, Antonio could see it. "The hell-?!" And there he went, acting as it leaning away from him would actually do any good.

Antonio laughed. "Relax. I'm joking." He flashed an apologetic smile before focusing his attention on the waves again. He breathed in deeply and sunk his toes in the sand. Why did he want to come to this specific one...? There were other beaches. Ones farther away from Lovino's home... His eyes watched the sea foam as it rushed in once more. "I like this one because it's the most beautiful. The ocean here... calls... to me. I know it doesn't make sense, and I probably seem mad to you, but the ocean has a certain sound here..." His voice softened as he continued. He motioned to the waves. "Look. See how the moonlight reflects off the water? I find that it's the most beautiful here. It dances in a way that it does not elsewhere.

"In other places, the sea is rough and angry. The waves are too loud and you have to shout to be heard by the person sitting right beside you. Then there are places where the sea is too quiet, barely a whisper. Where you can hear your own heart beating. I do not like that. I don't mind my heart beating. But I do not want to be self-aware of it.

"But here, the ocean sings. It's a soft melody, like a mother's lullaby. Don't you remember the days where your mother would sing to you, Lovino?" He glanced to Lovino in time to see him look away. In the moon's light, he could see those eyebrows furrow, see a frown tug at the corner of his lips. Lovino's posture had changed, his legs drawn toward his chest and his arms crossed over his knees. And those eyes... They held a storm within them. Emotion swirled within those pools of green, and yet Antonio could not pick each one apart. He just knew that he did not like the troubled gaze in those eyes...

He chose to look away. "My mother was kind. She was as beautiful as a flower and as strong and relentless as the sea. She had the voice of an angel." He felt a slight twinge in his heart at the mention of his dear, beloved mother. Her warmth was something Antonio would never forget... "The ocean here is like a mother. It sings with the love a mother would if she were singing a lullaby to her child. That is why I like it here, Lovino. This specific beach reminds me of my mother. It sings beautifully."

Lovino was quiet for a time and Antonio, too, fell into that silence. He was unsure if it was a peaceful one, however, for he was unsure of the emotion in the other's eyes. He could not make it out in the low light, thus his glances only lead him to no answers. Yet with the tilt of the Italian's head, he could tell the other was contemplating his words. Seeing him in another light... Antonio picked at the strings, but did not play a melody. Instead, he listened to the waves, his gaze focused mainly on that - save for the glances every now and then, of course.

Finally, there was a snort from beside him. The Italian rolled his eyes and rested his head in his hand. "You speak in riddles, bastard," the man grumbled. Antonio laughed, Lovino responded with a weak glare. That fire had not died, yet it had certainly calmed, it seemed. It was akin to that of a fireplace used to keep its guests warm on a cold winter's nights, rather than a raging wildfire that would burn those who got in its path. Antonio could not help but wonder why the flame had died so...

Antonio decided to grin, sitting up straighter. "Well, I'm not a poet, but I certainly am a songwriter!"

Lovino nodded. "So I've heard. You were playin' earlier, weren't you?"

Antonio nodded, patting his beloved guitar. He smiled fondly to the instrument. Never before had his most precious belonging failed him. On nights where he was alone, it was always there to comfort him. "Why yes, of course! I've been playing for... Dios mío, I can't remember how long it's been!" He let out a light-hearted laugh and flashed a bright grin. He played a few of the notes in quick succession, then strummed all the strings. "I have to say, it's my passion. It's the thing I pride myself the most on. If I couldn't play... Well, I wouldn't know what I would do with myself! My guitar has always been my life."

Lovino looked to him with curiosity flickering in his eyes. "And you've never once thought about goin' into the music industry?"

Antonio found himself pausing for a moment. He considered the other's words before he laughed and gave a sheepish smile. "No. No, I haven't. I mean. A long time ago, I did! But," he paused, looking down at his guitar as he ran his hand over a small portion of the instrument's neck, "I've never been good enough to even think about something like that. Playing guitar is one of my hobbies. It's a passion, just like growing tomatoes is, but it's not... No, I could never..." Ah, but there was so much more to it than just that... He breathed out a sigh, his eyes clouding momentarily as the memories flooded in. No... There was no way he could change his passion into a career... It was too late now.

"Play a song."

This startled Antonio out of his thoughts. Surprise took hold and he looked to the other. "¿Perdón?"

Lovino sighed through his nose. He had unfolded his arms and was now resting his elbow on one, propping his head up with the palm of his hand. "I said," he spoke, eyes flickering with false disinterest, "play a song."

The Spaniard hesitated. His eyes flicked between Lovino and the guitar, suddenly uncertain. Sure, he had played for people before, but it had always been on a whim. He would always say 'no' to those who asked, for it was always so much more difficult to come up with a song on the spot. Playing it randomly, when he had the urge, he could do. But when someone asked for it... He breathed in, eyes nervously looking to the guitar. Could he do it...?

"C'mon, what're you waitin' for? We don't have all night."

Antonio breathed out slowly, eyes hesitantly flickering to Lovino. He could feel his stomach twisting into knots, feel the lump forming in his throat. And oh God, was his heart now beating faster-? Oh yes it was... His fingers trembled, too. And simply at the sheer thought of playing in front of someone-! ... No... Of playing in front of Lovino. But... why would Lovino be so special? He was just a random stranger! ... Right...?

Somehow, he didn't believe that.

He pushed the thoughts away, meeting Lovino's expectant gaze for the last time. "Well, alright..." he breathed out. And he decided to ignore the Italian's presence entirely. It was a tough thing to do, in all honesty. When he began, his fingers trembled and the notes were choppy. It made him cringe. It almost seemed as though it was an amateur playing, rather than someone who had been playing ever since he could remember. But he forced his emotions to calm, for his heart to steady. And he played.

His fingers gradually began to dance over the strings, plucking away and strumming to a beat he set for himself. The music that came from the guitar enveloped him and the sea sung with the chords. He found himself gently bobbing his head along with the music. His breathing calmed and his mind eased. Everything around him disappeared. And yet, he felt painfully aware of the Italian sitting beside him. Somehow... that did not affect him in the way he thought it would... He thought it would only fuel his nervousness. Instead, he used it as his source of inspiration. He drew from the presence coming from beside him, let his music reflect it.

The music coming from his fingertips was gentle and soft at first, but soon grew strong and passionate. It was not a song that would invoke anger or fear. It was not one that would get the adrenaline pumping. No, it was one that told of a fiery passion, of a strong will to live. The chords reflected, he realized, that fire that he saw burning within Lovino's eyes. He focused entirely on that, drawing the emotions from that fire. He could feel the smile twitch upon his lips as eyes of green once again filled his mind. His fingers danced faster than they had before, so much smoother and carefree. He could still hear mistakes, hear twinges in the guitar that just did not sound like they were supposed to be there, but they were so much easier for him to brush off and ignore.

He continued to play, until the song finally came to an end, when his mind portrayed the same troubled gaze he had seen earlier, when talking of the waves. He let the melody end on a calming note, letting the stillness of the air around them end the song, as though it was supposed to be there in the first place. He rested his hands on the guitar, breathing out the breath he hadn't realized he had been holding. For a long moment, neither of them spoke. Antonio could not even bear to glance to the one next to him. His eyes stared to the sand, but they did not see, too clouded with the thoughts that reigned free in his mind. The thoughts he wished would just shut up already...

Why were those eyes so beautiful? Why did they entrance him so? Why had they been filled with tears when he first caught sight of them? What was the cause for that storm that lie within them? And why, oh why, could he not get them out of his head? Even when not gazing to their owner, they still haunted his sight. Oh, how he wished they wouldn't... And yet, at the same time, he wished they would do so more often. He found that he wanted to gaze into those eyes and study their depths. Yet he knew he couldn't. No, that would be too strange, wouldn't it? For him to gaze into Lovino's eyes... He hardly knew the guy-! Yet, he wanted to learn more... So much more...

"That was..."

Lovino's voice broke the silence. Antonio's gaze flicked to the Italian in uncertainty. He was going to judge him now...? He was surprised with what he saw. He did not see an angered expression. He did not see a scowl, he did not see the roll of eyes. He did not see a trace of annoyance or irritation - false or not. He saw a sort of peace in the Italian. His eyes were gentle, his lips relaxed. His eyebrows were not furrowed as they usually were. The warm summer wind pushed back the wet locks, ever so slightly, to further reveal eyes that stared far off across the sea.

Antonio watched as Lovino's Adam's apple bobbed when the other swallowed. No, stop that. Stop noticing every single little damn detail, stupid Spaniard. Don't start being infatuated with this guy. You don't want to get hurt again. He mentally slapped himself for even thinking such things, his gaze glancing away once more. He breathed out a silent sigh, running a shaking hand through his hair.

Then he heard something he didn't expect. A chuckle. Once again, he found himself glancing to Lovino, bewilderment in his eyes. What? He actually earned a chuckle. And a smirk thrown his way. Wow.

"I'm surprised you're not goin' for it. Or at least give yourself more credit," the Italian spoke. His tone told Antonio that he was being entirely truthful. There were no traces of a teasing tone. He could feel his heart flutter at that fact alone. "You're actually... pretty good. Surprisingly."

Antonio could not contain the smile that crept onto his lips. He could not contain the way it tugged at the corners and the way his teeth peeked out from behind. He sat up straighter, and he could feel all his worries melt away. Being complemented by someone like Lovino... That brightened his day all the more! Sure, he had been told that by people before - namely Francis and Gilbert - but to hear it from a man who only spouted insults the entire time he had known him? ... Okay. Maybe he was happy for the sheer fact that he got something out of the other that wasn't an insult or ridicule.

He could see the other's cheeks flush and see the way that his shoulders tensed. That expression soon twisted to a sort of grimace, but it seemed almost forced. "H-hey! Don't get so happy over that all of a sudden, bastard! I like the damn guitar, okay?" he defended. Antonio could only laugh. Lovino snorted and quickly glanced away, his toes curling and digging into the sand. His arms wrapped loosely around his knees. "My brother can play the piano and sing. He knows how to play guitar and violin. So I at least have an appreciation for music." His voice had lowered to a murmur, his eyebrows once again furrowed.

"And what about you? Do you play any instruments?"

Lovino was silent for a moment. He breathed out a sigh through his nose. "The cello," he answered at last. A beat. His eyes flicked to Antonio briefly. "Used to," he corrected himself. "I used to play the cello. A long time ago." He corrected his gaze to the ocean, and Antonio listened to what he had to say. "Fratellino and I always played instruments together when we were children. He would play the violin, and I would play the cello. He would play the piano, and I would sing along."

Antonio couldn't help but to smile, ever so faintly. He crossed his arms over his guitar, lightly leaning over it. He was careful, of course, not to put too much weight on it. "You really love your brother, huh?" he spoke without thinking.

This seemed to catch Lovino by surprise, and he glanced over to the Spaniard with a shocked expression at first. He then looked away again, silent at first. The wind picked up once more, and when it brushed back his fringe, Antonio could see pain flickering through his eyes. "... yeah..." he spoke carefully. "We don't always see eye to eye. But, I've always been there for him, and he's always been there for me. He's all I have now."

That last sentence rang in Antonio's ears. He was stunned into a momentary silence. He's all I have now. He couldn't bear to look at the other. Not when the pained expression continued to develop... He wanted to wrap the other up in his arms and rock him back and forth as he whispered promises of 'it's okay' and 'everything will be fine'. He swallowed, his lips forming a thin line. Funny how music could actually get someone to open up...

An unamused chuckle came from the one beside him. Lovino reached up to run a hand through his hair before leaning against it. His free hand tightened into a fist. "Hell, if I even have that now..." The phrase was muttered bitterly, his smile untrue. He muttered something else in Italian, then shook his head. "Forget it. It's not important."

Antonio jumped to action. His eyes snapped away from the sand and focused solely on Lovino. "No, no!" He reached out, laying a hand on Lovino's shoulder. He hadn't even thought of it; it just sort of... happened without his realizing. But as soon as the Italian took notice by glancing down, he murmured an apology and removed the offending hand. "I mean..." He chose his words carefully. He flashed a smile. "I understand. I..." He forced a laugh, hunching over his guitar in an effort to seem smaller than he was. "Believe it or not, but I have some... family issues as well. If I may call it that."

Lovino snorted. "They're not 'family issues'. He'll get over it. He always does. Damn guy's too sensitive for his own good. Cries when his damn pasta spills to the floor."

"Hey, I'd cry, too!" Antonio defended, earning a raised eyebrow. Shit. He stiffened, then sighed. "Nevermind... Just... Family is family, sí? They'll always be there for you, at the end of the day. Yeah, there are some really shitty families out there. I know that. But I can tell you really love your brother. If he feels even the slightest of love for you... then he'll understand! Things will be alright."

Lovino narrowed his eyes, his lips forming a frown. His arm fell to his knee once more. "You don't even know what the hell you're talkin' about. You don't know shit about my family."

"True," Antonio pointed out, "I never said I did." He paused. "But I do know that you love your brother. Each time you've talked about him, it's only been fondly. Even if you call him a brat, or your grandpa's favourite, or an idiot, or say he's too emotional... I can tell you love him and worry over him. Am I wrong?"

The Italian opened his mouth to object, but the words seemed to catch in his throat. A small glare and slowly his mouth closed again. He retreated back into himself, and spoke cautiously, "... No... You aren't wrong..."

Antonio's smile grew. "See? I know I don't have any say in your family issues, Lovino, but I do know that you love your brother. And judging by what you've told me, he loves you, too. Everything will be okay. I'm sure you still have him! One petty disagreement won't stop you from being brothers."

Lovino looked perplexed. "How-"

Antonio winked. "I know feuding brothers when I see them, Lovi. I've had my fair share of fights with my own to know the signs."

Lovino deflated, lowering his head toward his arms but not yet reaching them. He eyed the Spaniard warily, and in the moonlight, Antonio could see a tinge of pink dusting across his cheeks. "... It's Lovino, tomato bastard..." he muttered.

Antonio stuck out his bottom lip. "Aww, still with the nickname?"

Lovino seemed a bit more prideful, sitting up straighter. That smirk was back, that mischievous twinkle in his eye. "Now and forever."

"Oh, so you mean you want to know me forever?"

"I- What-?" Lovino sputtered. His cheeks seemed to darken, his eyes widening. "I never said that!"

"But you implied it!" Antonio found himself leaning toward the other, pressing a palm against the sand to support himself.

Lovino stiffened in response. "I did no such thing!"

Antonio could only laugh as he pressed farther, careful to not dip the guitar in the sand. "But you just said-"

Lovino groaned. "I know what I said, damnit! But that doesn't mean- GAH! Get away from me! Stop getting closer!"

Antonio only inched farther to the side, noting with amusement at the higher pitch in which the words left the other's lips. And not to mention the thicker accent. "I dunno, Lovi, I think that's a Freudian Slip~!"

"I- You- What?" He groaned and finally lifted his hand, pushing at Antonio's face. "I don't care what you think, bastard! Now stop that, you're creepin' me the fuck out!"

Antonio could tell that this wasn't the truth. No, Lovino would be reacting in such a different matter if it was. He laughed at the words, letting the Italian push him away. Though admittedly, it sort of hurt his nose with the palm pressed against it. He swatted away the hand, giggles erupting from him. "Alright, alright, I'll stop." A brief pause. "Lovi."

Lovino threw his hands up in the air with a cry of aggravation. Then, seeming by impulse, he flicked sand in Antonio's direction.

Once again, the Spaniard laughed, shielding himself from the sand. "Hey, hey, watch the guitar!" he shouted in retaliation. Then an idea sprang to him. He smiled gently and picked the guitar off of his lap, unfolding his legs. "Alright, alright, I'm sorry, Lovino. I shouldn't have called you that." He lowered the guitar to the sand, carefully laying it on its back. He could feel Lovino's questioning gaze upon him, but he did not turn to look at him. No, he only glanced at him to assure that his guitar would be far enough away and would not be affected by the activity he had in mind. ... Good. It would be safe.

He breathed in and shoved his hands into his pockets, walking toward the water. He let a serene smile come to his lips, gazing out at the darkened horizon. "But in all seriousness... You should have seen the fights between Gilbert and his little brother! Those two would take swings at each other!" He walked closer to the edge of the water, anticipation flooding through his veins. but he kept himself calm, kept any hints out of his voice and demeanor. Oh, and how he was the master at this art...

He could hear Lovino unfolding his legs behind him, but he knew very well that they were not the sounds of him standing. He breathed in as the water rushed over his feet. "Especially when drunk! Dios mío, I feared for my life!" He kicked slightly at the water, testing the temperature. A bit cold, but... That was expected of the night. "They would swing this way, and swing that way!" As if to emphasize the words, he kicked the water one direction, and then another, but he was careful not to kick it anywhere near Lovino. No... Not yet...

"Then all of a sudden..." He paused, his eyes glancing back to Lovino. Mischief danced within them. He could see the Italian's face paling in recognition, lips parting in mild disbelief. As Antonio's body prepared itself and his lips parted, he could see Lovino slowly begin to shake his head. "You were pulled into it yourself!" As soon as he shouted those words, he dipped down and scooped handfuls of water to chuck at the Italian with a hearty laugh.

Lovino let out a shout of surprise - which turned out to be more of a squeal - as he fell back in a feeble attempt to escape the sudden water attack. As Antonio laughed, he shot up and to his feet, hands balling into fists. "The hell! What as that for, huh?!"

Antonio calmed his laughing and smirked, taking a few steps back into the waves. He could feel the water rushing around his ankles, rising up toward his mid calf now. "What's wrong, Lovi?" he almost taunted. "Can't stand a little water?"

Lovino growled, eyes glancing from the water to the Spaniard. "Lovino," he corrected. "It's fuckin' Lovino, damnit!"

Aha. There it was. Antonio put on a genuine smile, his chin tilting upward ever so slightly. He kicked more water at the Italian, who took a step back to avoid it. "Maybe if you actually manage to push me down... Or soak me to the bone... I'll stop calling you Lovi," he suggested. "If I manage to soak you first, then the nickname continues."

The Italian glanced to the water again. He lowered his hands to his sides, his face contorting into confusion. "Are you fuckin' kidding me." It was more of a statement than a question, really.

"Nope."

And the game began. With a growl, Lovino first tried a frontal assault, racing toward Antonio and trying to tackle him head-on.

But with practiced ease, the Spaniard danced out of the way, grabbing Lovino's wrist and twisting him around so that his back pressed against his chest. He smiled down to the Italian. "You'll have to try better than that, Lovi."

He swept his foot forward in an attempt to hook Lovino's ankles from behind, but was surprised to find that Lovino had jumped back into him, knocking his shoulders against the Spaniard's to knock him back. After losing his balance, Lovino took it as his opportunity to twist his wrist out of the grip, sweeping his arm back as he whirled around. He used his momentum to propel himself away from Antonio, dancing a few feet away before smirking at him, arms at his sides. "I could say the same for you, bastard."

Oooh this was so much better than he expected. Antonio grinned to the other and instead of going straight for him, he kicked water up to the other.

Lovino retaliated by dipping down and scooping water in both hands to throw at Antonio, who laughed and retreated farther into the water.

The waves rushed around his knees now as he danced away from the water coming from Lovino, sending a few splashes in return. The fight continued on as such, with neither of them actually trying to go for each other. A splash here, a splash there, a laugh from Antonio, a smirk or shouted insult from Lovino...

That is, until Lovino decided to rush Antonio again, just as a wave was going out. In a battle cry, the Italian rushed forward. And just when Antonio thought he was going to go for his middle, the Italian suddenly veered to the right and ducked under his arms, instead taking a swipe just behind the knees. Antonio let out a cry of surprise as he stumbled to one knee, the waves crashing in around him. He shivered as they rushed past, but yet, his shoulders, chest, and head remained water- free.

Antonio straightened himself again, casting a glance to Lovino, who smirked at him in pride. "What're you smirking about?" the Spaniard spoke calmly. "You haven't won."

That smirk was gone instantly and was replaced with a frown. "What? But I flattened your ass!"

Antonio shook his head. "No you didn't. You got me down to one knee. That's not pushing me down entirely. That's knocking me off balance. There's a difference."

Lovino scowled and shot an arc of water in Antonio's direction. "Fuckin' cheater!"

Antonio laughed, shielding himself and returning the attack. "No I'm not~!" he replied in an all-too cheerful tone. He sent a few more splashes Lovino's way. "You just didn't ask for the full rules! You have to knock me down completely, or soak me entirely first! And last I checked, I'm still standing and still dry!"

Lovino growled and shot more water Antonio's way. Then, after sending off the largest one he could muster, he shot forward and slammed into Antonio's chest.

But Antonio couldn't go down easily. You could call him rather used to this kind of thing. He did stumble, sure, and he was a bit winded, but he instead used the momentum to spin around and knock his foot into Lovino's calves. And down they went. He braced himself for the impact, cradling Lovino in the nook of his arm as they went down so he could take in most of the fall into his elbow.

Pain shot up his arm upon impact, but, as he was sure, they were both safe. He pushed himself up, smirking in triumph down at the one below him. Wide green eyes that he was sure would haunt him tonight, too, stared up at him in shock. He then turned his smirk into a smile and patted the other's cheek, thankful that he had managed to knock them down when the waves had pulled out. Or else Lovino would have been submerged. "I do believe that's a win for me. Better luck next time, Lovi."

He could see a tinge of pink rise up to colour Lovino's cheeks. Strange... He found himself trapped by those eyes, unable to look away. They seemed to fill his vision and pique his curiosity. He could see the storm of emotions coursing through them, but he could not even begin to name them all. Confusion, surprise... He could see those ones, clear as day. But there were others that he could not recognize, that fought against one another too much for him to pick up on. And damn. They were beautiful. He found his smile falling away, ever so slightly, as his eyes finally tore away. But they did not land to any safer territory. They wandered to nostrils flaring with quickened, uneven breaths, and then down to lips just barely parted and trembling. His hand had fallen from the other's flushed cheek to instead cup the side of his head, fingers idly playing with the strands without his knowledge.

But he wasn't noticing that. No, his eyes were locked on those trembling lips, and the tongue that darted out momentarily to wet them. ... As if in anticipation... He felt that he knew of what. His mind did not dare to come up with the words. He knew simply by instinct and, as he would deny, his own desires. After all, this man was certainly attractive - especially pinned underneath him like this, with only the moon serving as their light. Its silvery glow accented the other's skin, glistening with the ocean's water. He found himself leaning down. It was subtle, hardly even noticeable, but those lips seemed to be getting closer. And perhaps it was his imagination, but he could have sworn they were parting all the more, just as his were.

Then he heard the crashing of waves approaching them. He glanced to the side and upon seeing the waves pulling back in, he quickly stood up, grabbed Lovino's hand, and yanked him to his feet - a little too quickly, he supposed. The other stumbled into him, but he was quick to catch him and hold him steady as the waves rushed past. He let out a nervous laugh, giving a gentle squeeze and slowly releasing the other. The Italian did not move. He soon came to realize that Lovino did not dare to look at him. They were the same height, that much Antonio had discovered, but Lovino almost seemed to shrink where he stood, his head dipped down so Antonio could not see his eyes. His eyes quickly darted down to the lips he had been so fixated on just a moment before.

Instantly, the guilt washed over him. The guilt and fear and general shock of what had almost happened clutched at his heart. Those lips were not turned down into a frown. Instead, they formed a thin, unreadable line. He quickly let go and pulled away from the Italian, taking a step or two back to give the other the space he had come to find out the Italian so much desired. "Lo siento, Lovino! I..." He laughed nervously. He didn't even know what to say. He had completely misread the situation, and had almost gone and kissed the damn guy. ... Right...? Yeah, that was most definitely what he had intended to do. Perhaps... he didn't notice... He cast an apologetic smile. "I didn't mean to almost drown you, promise!" He threw his hands up in defense. "I was only trying to win the game, not drown you!"

"Yeah." The word seemed almost forced. Antonio's hands lowered, his smile faltering. Shit. He had certainly done something wrong. Finally, Lovino looked to him, but Antonio could not read his eyes. Emotion swirled within them, yet the other chose to play it off as nothing, giving a shrug and shoving his hands away in his pockets. Then, he scowled. "You certainly have a flashy way of showin' off, huh. Well, I guess you win. But I'm not callin' you by your damn name or anythin' like that. You're still tomato bastard."

So he hadn't noticed. And... was that a twinkle of amusement? Antonio laughed, forcing himself to relax. "Sure, sure, whatever you say! But I win, because I still get to call you Lovi," he pointed out.

Lovino snorted, rolling his eyes and taking a step back. "I'm still goin' to correct you on that one. My name's Lovino, damnit."

Antonio grinned. Things seemed to be back to normal... That was good. "Argue all you want. But Lovi is still Lovi."

Lovino shot a glare, but then sighed and shivered against the wind. "Yeah, whatever. C'mon, I'll get you a towel. Since you're a damn idiot who decided it's fun to play in the waves at two o'clock in the frickin' mornin'." He then turned and walked out of the waves, Antonio staring after him.

He blinked in surprise. "Wow, is it really that late?" Finally, he followed after, jogging to catch up. He almost reached for his guitar, but stopped. No... He couldn't carry that...

Lovino rolled his eyes and cast a glance to Antonio. "You didn't notice? The first thing I said you was, 'what the hell are you doin' here? It's past midnight'."

Antonio laughed sheepishly. "I told you. I get really caught up in my music."

"Speaking of that..." He glanced to the guitar. "Don't touch that. You'll ruin it. I'll get towels and we can wrap it up and take it to my house for the night."

"Really? You'd do that for me?" Antonio jogged around the instrument when Lovino motioned for him to follow, accompanying him up toward the housing not too far from the shore.

"I'm a big music nerd. It'd be devastating to see even a single guitar destroyed at the hands of a stupid Spaniard."

Antonio laughed and flashed a grin. "Aww, c'mon, I'm not that stupid."

Lovino looked at him with a doubtful expression. "Really. You. Not stupid? Guess again, moron."

"Hey," Antonio whined as he once again jogged to catch up. Man, the guy was really picking up the pace! "I'm not that moronic! I'll have you know I'm a uni student!"

"Yeah, and that really says so much in this day and age," Lovino retorted as he ascended the steps to his home. He paused at the door, casting a glance to Antonio. "Wait here."

Antonio obliged as the Italian disappeared within the home. It was curious, though, how no lights flickered on, and he could hear no bustling around inside. Huh... Could Lovino really work that well in the house? Did he really know it that well? Well, no matter. He did not have to wait long.

His thoughts were dispersed as soon as the Italian retreated from the home with three towels; one around his neck and currently drying his hair, and the other two in his arms. He dumped them both into Antonio's arms. "You're to return that towel as soon as we get back up here. And no, you can't come inside," he spoke firmly as he walked past the Spaniard.

As Antonio busied himself with drying off his clothes and arms - all while trying to hold the extra towel at the same time - he followed Lovino and the two made small talk on the way to the guitar. They spoke of the lateness of the evening and bickered of the usage of names, all the way until the guitar was safely wrapped up most of the way in the largest towel that Lovino could find.

Lovino was the one to carry it back to the house, where he set it down just inside the door and stood outside with Antonio, where he retrieved the towel from him. He grunted in response to the words of gratitude, his eyes not meeting the others. Then a silence befell them.

Antonio's breath caught in his throat as their eyes met. The way that the other's eyes held his... The mix of emotions in them... The silent plea within them... He knew not what the Italian was hoping for, or wanting to speak. No, he could only pick out that there was indeed something the other wanted to ask, something the other wanted from him. But there was no way he could figure out what it was. He was no mind reader...

After what seemed like an eternity, Lovino sighed and glanced away, his eyebrows furrowing in exasperation. "You better get goin'. You've got roommates waiting on you, right?"

Frankly, Antonio hadn't thought the other would remember such a detail; that he was visiting Italy with friends. He looked to him in mild surprise, but slowly nodded. "Uh, y-yeah. You're right. I do. I, uh... I suppose I should go then."

"Yeah... Yeah, you should go."

Neither of them moved. Despite their words, Antonio did not step back and Lovino did not retreat into his home. But Lovino did not meet the other's gaze, either. He held on tighter to the towel in his arms, his lips forming a thin line. Finally, he glanced to him, but only momentarily before they went back to the towel, where he began picking at the fibers with a fingernail. "That means turnin' around and walkin'."

Antonio felt his face flush. "Right. Right, of course. I mean... Yeah... Of course." He finally took a step back, yet he found that it was hesitant. He finally tore his eyes away, giving Lovino another glance as he stepped down. "So, uhm... Buenas noches. Then." There was only a nod of agreement. He breathed in, then finally turned away and began walking. But he could only get one step before he heard a voice from behind him.

"Hey, tomato bastard-"

His steps faltered instantly and he found himself looking over his shoulder, almost hopeful. What for, he wasn't sure himself. His eyes caught Lovino's. "Hm?"

Lovino's lips parted as if to say something, but then thought better of it and glanced away. His eyebrows furrowed, his shoulders stiffening. "Could you..." Antonio hung on his words, his breath caught in his throat. "Could you teach me?"

"Teach you?" Antonio echoed, bewildered.

The Italian bit his lip, and Antonio could see the traces of reddened cheeks. He breathed in, then breathed out in a slow, controlled sigh. "How... how to play... a guitar...?"

Well that surprised him. But it wasn't an unpleasant surprise, either. A smile wound up onto his lips. But unlike most of the others, it was so much more gentle, so much more genuine. "Of course, Lovino." The words came out steadier than he thought they would.

Lovino's cheeks burned all the more and he picked away at the towel. Hesitantly, his eyes flicked to Antonio, then back to the towel. He cleared his throat, shuffling on his feet. "Yeah... Good... Okay..."

Holy hell he was cute. Antonio wasn't sure if he could stand anymore of this. He chuckled, giving a wider smile. "Buenas noches, Lovino..." he spoke quietly.

Lovino nodded. Slowly, but surely, he nodded. "... Buona notte..." His voice was even more mumbled than before. He then cleared his throat once more and quickly disappeared inside the house, leaving Antonio to stand alone in the moonlight.

He found himself staring at the door longer than he should have. But he couldn't help it. He was almost wishing that the door would fling open again to reveal that stunning Italian. He wanted to hear his voice again. But, he knew that wasn't possible. It was late. He was tired. So very tired... And his heart... Aah, his heart would not last if he saw him again. No, it was already pounding away so quickly, he thought he would go into cardiac arrest.

He chuckled at the thought and ran a hand through his hair. "Dios mío, Antonio..." he murmured, casting a glance to the sky, before looking to the house again. He took a step, glanced away, and continued on his way. He only made a few steps before looking back toward the house, his steps faltering. He didn't know why, but he had the sudden urge to look back... Then he saw it. His eyes caught the movement of a shadow darting back behind the safety of a curtain. It took a moment for his brain to register what it was. And when it did, he felt his cheeks flush, ever so slightly.

Lovino was watching him, too.

He cracked a smile and shook his head, forcing himself to continue on. He forced himself not to look back, to just keep walking. After all, why would he? Why would he be so infatuated with this damn Italian? Sure, he was good-looking. Scratch that. He was beautiful and hot and just mighty damn sexy, okay? Tanned skin, dark hair, bright eyes... Yeah. Antonio could definitely go for that. He quickly shook the thoughts from his head, smacking his cheeks with both hands as though he would be able to dispel such thoughts in such a manner. What the hell was he thinking-? Thinking of Lovino that way-!

He must've been tired. Yes. Undeniably exhausted. Thus, he was not thinking straight. Yes. That was it. That was totally it... He swallowed thickly and continued on, his hands shoving away into his pockets. He had to get back. Gilbert and Francis were waiting for him. He hadn't even brought his phone; no doubt they were wondering where he had been.

The walk back, unfortunately for him, left enough time and silence for his thoughts to wander. And no matter how many times he tried, he could not erase those eyes from his mind's eye. The way they looked up at him... That fire that burned within them... Water beaded across his skin... Those lips, so inviting and- STOP IT, STOP IT, STOP IT!

He was all too glad when the hotel finally came into sight, his pace quickening. He pulled out his hotel key and busied himself on thoughts on how he would explain his absence and missing guitar to his friends. ... Well. He could tell them the truth. That was always an option. Oh, but Francis would blow it entirely out of proportion again, wouldn't he? Of course he would. He swallowed and unlocked the door, carefully sliding inside.

It seemed that he didn't have to worry about Gilbert; he was already fast asleep, snoring away in the bed he had claimed as his own. Francis, on the other hand... He grimaced at the sight. No, it wasn't that Francis had a book in his hands, or that the glasses were delicately resting on his nose... No, it was that questioning look he was giving the Spaniard. Antonio breathed in, offered a sheepish smile, and closed the door behind him. "Buenas tardes, Francis."

Francis raised an eyebrow, then glanced to the clock; 3:20, it read. "I don't think that phrase is appropriate. I think it's more morning than evening, Antonio," he pointed out. He sighed and closed his book, eyebrows furrowing in confusion and concern. "Where have you been all evening? Gilbert and I were worried sick!"

Antonio glanced to Gilbert, then back to Francis. He gestured to the sleeping German. Oh. I'm sorry. Prussian. "He looks fine to me."

"Okay, so perhaps he did not worry as much as me," Francis mused as he removed his glasses. He rubbed at his temples. "That still does not answer my question."

"I was, ah, playing my guitar. At the beach." Antonio went to busying himself with preparing for his shower, deciding it was best to at least rinse off the seawater before he slipped under the covers. Oh and the sand would best be gone, too, he supposed...

"Your guitar," Francis echoed from behind him, his voice deadpan. "I don't see your guitar. Mon dieu, were you mugged?"

Antonio looked at Francis, astonished and confusion. "Mugged? What? Oh, no, no, of course not! I wasn't mugged!" he spoke quickly. Him? Mugged? No way that could even happen! He turned away as Francis crossed the room, finally finding a pair of sweatpants and gathering them up.

"Then where is it? Did you leave it? Oh, I always knew you were airbrained, but this much?"

"Don't worry, it's somewhere safe. I left it with someone trustworthy."

"Someone... And who would that be, exactly?"

Antonio flashed a smile over his shoulder. "An angel is watching over it for me."

Francis seemed both confused and intrigued at the same time. He crossed the room to Antonio, his head tilted in curiosity. "An angel. Really? Is this the same angel you have spoken of before?" His eyes narrowed. "Is it that same one you met when you were drunk?"

A shrug. "Maybe it is, maybe it isn't. Either way, it's in good hands now."

Francis let out a sigh of defeat, shaking his head. "I worry for your mental health sometimes, Antonio..."

"Hey, at least I know exactly where it is. I know the exact address and I'll be picking it up tomorrow." He gathered up a towel, adding it to his pile. "I couldn't very well carry it back when I'm soaking wet, now could I?"

"Which raises the question..." the Frenchman began as he crossed his arms and leaned against the wall, "why are you soaking wet in the first place?"

Another smile as Antonio paused just before the bathroom door, swinging it open. "Oh, no big deal," he answered, "Just got pulled into the sea by a siren."

Francis was silent for a moment before shaking his head. "Aah, Antonio... I do not understand you... "

Antonio chuckled and stepped into the bathroom. He seemed to not truly look at the contents, instead he seemed to be lost in something that could not be seen. And just before he closed the door, he agreed, "Neither do I, my friend... Neither do I..."