Una Notte A Napoli

by AlexOfCoffee

Spamano. Third person POV. One night in Naples, by the moon and sea, my heart was stolen by an angel who had forgotten how to fly. (Full plot can be found in the header.) Rated M for foul language, sexual implications, strong hints to mental illness, and other adult themes.

6. Day Six: Crazy From Love

A/N: Hey, guys! So I purposefully decided to finish this chapter time for the holidays :D For those of you who celebrate it, Happy Christmas! And for those who don't, well, here's a present for you anyway. Just consider it a regular gift c: I thought today would be the best day to upload a chapter. Well. Before I decide to talk your ear off… Enjoy the sixth chapter of Una Notte a Napoli.

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.Day Six.
Crazy From Love

The late afternoon sun burned his eyes. The rays filtered in through the tree's leaves as they swayed and danced. The sound was soothing to his ears, but the sunlight flickering in and out of his eyes was almost too much to bear. He had tried to shield them with a hand to his forehead, the other resting on his stomach, but it was of no use. There would be no shelter from the accursed rays, try as he might. The sun was far too determined, much to his displeasure. An annoyed sigh escaping from his lips, Antonio let his red-rimmed eyes slide closed, brow drawing together beneath his hand. He could feel the faint twitch in his lips as they curved downward, the annoyance once again rising within him. He would not let it rule him this time, letting it sink to the back of his mind. This was merely a minor setback. He had been stupid, and he knew that. There was absolutely no reason for him to be angry with the sun; it was simply doing its job, warming the earth and providing light.

And boy was it doing its job well on this fine day... The folds of his clothes clung to the curves of his body, a light film of sweat acting as a sort of weak glue. It was uncomfortable to sit under, and he was thankful for the shade that the tree provided. Under normal circumstances, he would not mind the heat. There had been plenty of times in his past where he would simply just grin and say it was such a beautiful day. If he wasn't dozing off underneath the shade of a tree, then he would roll up his sleeves, throw open the windows, and clean. He would sweep and do laundry, wash dishes and dust... But he was far from home. So very far from home... And oh, was he thirsty...

He worked his tongue in his mouth; a futile attempt to wet it. His throat begged for water, but there was no water to be found. He feared moving from where he was, feared venturing off to find the much-needed liquid of life. As he saw it, he was lost enough as it was. He knew not this area of Naples. He did not know which way to travel, who to ask. There were plenty of people passing him by without sparing so much as a single glance, but judging by the way they spoke with one another, the foreign words falling from their tongues, they would not understand what he was saying. The languages were simply far too different...

Perhaps it wasn't the brightest of ideas to venture this far. No, he shouldn't have gone out at all - especially without first grabbing either his cell phone or wallet. He gave no word of where he was headed, for he hadn't known, himself. His footsteps had initially tried to lead him toward Lovino's house, but he had instantly turned them away the moment he realized this. He wished he hadn't. Maybe then he would have an idea of where he was, and could come up with an excuse for his impromptu visit. (Though trying to explain why he returned at such early hours in the morning, that would be quite difficult.) No. Instead, he had managed to take one too many forgotten turns.

He didn't realize the city was as large as it was. It was most certainly beautiful, he could see that much now that the sun shone down in all its glory. But beauty was nothing when you had no idea of where to go. He could smell freshly baked goods upon the breeze, coming from places he assumed would also have water, but there was no way he could even think of going to such places. He had no money; it was all back in the hotel room, tucked safely within the folds of his wallet. The sounds of people laughing and talking surely were splendid and added to the beauty that was Naples, but alas, it meant nothing when most words only left him in confusion when he tried to tune into the conversations. He could hear the low hum of tires on asphalt, hear the sudden honks that would be startling if he were close enough. But lying here in this square, where only pedestrians were allowed, he could not find which path to take to lead him to the busy road.

Even if he had, there was no point. There was no way one would hop on out of their car to help him out - someone who knew either Spanish or English. Thus, while all these sights, sounds, and smells added to the liveliness of the city, they meant nothing. They helped very little. All they reassured him of was that he was still very much within Naples, Italy - and he was already very well aware of that. He hadn't ventured as far as to question which city he lay within.

Antonio groaned and ran his hand down his face, eyelids fluttering open once more. There was no point in sleeping. He wouldn't be able to. He was surprised that he had slept for as long as he had in the first place. Judging by the position of the sun itself, it was already well past noon. He knew he could be a difficult one to stir from his slumber, but he had not thought that it would be that difficult. He had thought that perhaps the sun would have roused him. Perhaps the tree did its job, after all, as well as the buildings all around... He supposed that could be an answer to it, though he couldn't say for sure.

Finally, he pushed himself up. He swung his legs over the edge of the bench, grimacing at the stiff ache in his back, the dull throbbing of his shoulder from sleeping on it for far too long. He groaned as he straightened his spine, hearing a few cracks at the motion. He winced as he rolled his shoulder, massaging the muscle as he did so in an attempt to soothe the pain. The more he worked at it, the more it slowly loosened, though the dull ache still remained. He ran a hand through tousled chocolate locks, shaking his head momentarily. "Never. Again," he grounded out in a disgruntled mumble to himself.

The next time he wandered off like that, he decided, he would be sure to bring his wallet. A cheap motel would be far better than a stiff wooden bench with absolutely no padding. Hell, even the grass would have been better. Well. No matter... What's done is done, and there was no going back, no matter how much he internally complained - no matter how much his body groaned in protest at every move. At least it was slowly easing now that he was moving and stretching out the sore muscles...

Movement caught his eyes and his gaze flicked up as a young couple walked by, the woman holding on to the man's arm as she walked. He flashed a smile, but they did not so much as look toward him. Great... He wondered just how bad he might look. He knew that he had rubbed at his eyes far too often today, thanks to the sun's aggravation, but was there really enough reason to ignore him entirely? Maybe, he reasoned, they just had places to go. Too caught up in their own little world. His eyes flicked to the young couple once more, but only for a brief moment.

Couple. There was the key word. They were a couple. He could tell by the way that she ever so slightly tilted her head toward him, as if debating whether or not to even try resting it upon his shoulder. For a moment, he did not see that woman and her partner. No, he saw two other figures, though it wasn't the exact same position. Because of course, the Italian would never be so feminine in the way to tilt his head in such a way. Antonio knew that... Instead, what he saw in his mind's eye was a couple walking down the street, fingers intertwined and shy glances flicking toward him, every now and then. The other hand was tucked into a pocket, shoulders hunched ever so slightly in an attempt to hide himself. As if it would help him fade away from the eyes of others. That fire that burned so brightly...

Antonio shook the thought from his mind. He could almost laugh. Such thoughts were ridiculous. But after last night, he couldn't outright deny them, either. Not to himself, nor to anyone else. He breathed out a sigh and leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees to support the weight of his upper body. Right... To deny it would be denying that the night before had happened at all. No. That this entire week had happened... From that first day, when he first spotted an angel standing atop a balcony, all the way to the single moment where he held the world in his arms. He could not even begin to fathom how he had fallen so quickly. It just did not seem possible. He had read about it in stories, seen it movies, but how could such a thing happen to him? It was... far too optimistic. Stupid, Francis had called it...

He swallowed, his lips forming a thin line. Francis... The man who always preached on and on about love and finding the right one... had been the one to call it outrageous. Accused Antonio of over thinking, of being childish. He knew full well that Francis was simply looking after him; it was just how the Frenchman had always been. But those words, and others, spoken in anger and frustration... They now rang clear as a bell in Antonio's mind. He was thankful he had slipped out before he managed to take a swing. He never had the best of grasp on his anger. In his earlier days, that much was all too evident. But at least he had the mind to remove himself from the situation.

If only he had kept track of where he had even stormed off to...

His thoughts scattered as his attention was suddenly drawn by two figures headed his way. At first, he thought that he had been mistaken. Many others had seemed to be nearing him, only to walk straight past. But when he glanced up, he found that his initial thought had been correct; they were indeed walking toward him - and quite briskly, at that. They held an air of authority about them, and other pedestrians seemed to either not notice them at all, or notice them all too well and deliberately dance out of their way. A quick glance to their clothing told Antonio exactly why. They were policemen.

When they stopped before him, one kept his thumb tucked into a pocket while the other stood with his hands at his sides. Antonio leaned back ever so slightly and stared at them both, blinking in the rays of the sun as they swept across his eyes. They spoke foreign words to him, but alas, Antonio could only translate two of the words; '. . . bene, singore.' He stared for a moment more, confusion lacing its way onto his features. His lips parted to answer, but the shorter of the two - the one with both hands at his sides - glanced warily to his partner. He cut the Spaniard off, speaking once again. Once again, the words were lost to him, only picking up the word 'signore'.

Slowly, Antonio shook his head, lowering his hands and straightening his back. His lips parted. "I... I don't..." The policemen glanced to one another, brows furrowed. Antonio's stomach twisted anxiously. The silent conversation they seemed to hold between them did not seem to spell good news for the traveler.

The taller breathed out a sigh, holding a hand out to Antonio, his palm facing him. He spoke again and gestured toward himself, then fell silent.

Antonio could only stare dumbly. He tried his hardest to try to find any familiar words within the quickened speech, but alas, there was nothing. He could not even begin to understand. A few words here and there, yes, but most certainly nothing that would help him grasp the situation. His heart beat rapidly in his chest, his hands shaking. Had he done something wrong...? They had said something about sleeping; he had picked up on that much. But what was it? What were they trying to tell him? Why weren't they giving him a chance to speak? Each time he tried, they only cut him off, yet they clearly expected some sort of answer from him. Unfortunately, he had nothing to give. He swallowed thickly and opened his mouth, his shoulders rigid.

He could not even get a single word out before the hand pivoted and reached out, grasping at his upper arm. He was hoisted up, a squeak leaving him without his meaning to. They spoke rapidly to one another, the shorter shaking his head and glancing to those who dared to glance in their direction. After breathing out a sigh of exasperation, the taller man took a step back and yanked Antonio forward - albeit a tad roughly. He stumbled over his feet, and the shorter made a comment. Antonio could only assume it was due to the rough handling, though he supposed it could be worse.

He could not resist. He knew that much. He had no idea what was going on, or even how they had found him, but he knew one thing; perhaps he would actually find someone who would allow him to speak, someone who knew any of the languages he spoke. Hell, even French would be better than Italian! At least he knew simple phrases in French!

Once again he was yanked forward - rougher this time - and released. He stumbled past the taller man, who then gave an extra shove to guide him forward. He could hear orders leaving the man's lips, yet he could not decipher the meaning. He could only assume he was to keep walking, and thus, he did. Apparently, he wasn't fast enough.

The taller groaned and ignored his partner's words - which sounded as though they were a warning, judging by the tone he had used - as he stepped forward. A tight grip was placed on Antonio's arm and he was yanked forward. Despite his better judgement, fear grew within Antonio.

He had, after all, just been sleeping on a bench, in the middle of a well-populated area. Perhaps he wasn't allowed to. Perhaps he had broken some unspoken rule that everyone else knew, that he was oblivious to. Perhaps Gilbert and Francis had called the police. He could feel himself stumbling as he walked, his back stiff and sore from the night before. A growing ache was forming at the tight grip on his arm. He wanted so desperately to yank it away, but alas, he could not. No. He would not.

Then a voice called out. He recognized it. His breath hitched at the rich Italian that flowed from a harsh tongue. The voice itself rung clear as a bell, deep and resonating. The r's rolled off a tongue always tucked away behind pink lips. And when Antonio turned his head, he could see the fire that such a fierce heat radiated from. But those piercing green eyes were not directed to him. They flicked between the men standing on either side of Antonio, whom had taken notice to the new arrival.

Once again, Lovino spoke, stepping forward. He seemed all too cautious, yet at the same time, almost accusing of the men in uniform.

The shorter answered his question, and Lovino sighed, rubbing at the back of his neck. Finally, his eyes flicked to Antonio. The traces of false pity and minor annoyance danced within his eyes. Lovino shook his head and offered a frown. Antonio could hear an apology fall from his lips, and the taller officer released his hold. Antonio warily glanced between the three men standing around him, all too aware of how close Lovino had stepped toward him.

Lovino spoke again, this time softer, as he reached out. He took Antonio's hand and gently guided him away from the men, his voice soothing and sounding as though he was speaking to a child. The Spaniard dumbly followed, unsure of what exactly was even happening. Meanwhile, the Italian went back to speaking to the cops, his voice almost apologetic. An airy laugh left his lips.

He had never seen this side of Lovino before, but that sharp gaze sent his way told him that it was all a farce. A trick. And so, he played along, though he couldn't be sure of what he was to do. He simply just followed Lovino's guiding, sticking close to him at every sharper tug of the hand. His skin felt warm... Soft... Blood pounded through Antonio's veins and tinted his cheeks a light pink at the realization that yes - he was holding Lovino's hand.

Finally, after minutes of the Italians exchanging words, a charming smile was sent toward the officers, and what Antonio could make out as a word of gratitude. Lovino then bid farewell and began to lead the Spaniard away. After a few steps, Lovino spoke under his breath, "Follow my lead. Stumble a bit and don't say a goddamn word."

Antonio obliged, scuffing his shoe against the concrete and doing exactly as Lovino commanded. He grasped his sleeve when he was told to, tugging gently on it at the indication to do so. And with that, they exited out of one of the pathways and rounded a corner.

As soon as they had disappeared from the officers' sights, Lovino snatched his hand away from Antonio and shook off the offending hand grasping at his sleeve. His hands tucked themselves away from sight and an irritated sigh left his lips. An annoyed glance was tossed Antonio's way. "You're really damn lucky I showed up when I did, you know," he pointed out.

Antonio's eyes flicked to Lovino in curiosity, his brow furrowing. His hand still tingled with warmth from where the fingers had curled around his palm. His head was spinning from it all, his breath shallow. He felt as though he was walking on air. "What? Why?"

Lovino's lips parted to bark out a reply, but then he seemed to think better of it. The annoyance was replaced with mild curiosity, then died to silent understanding before annoyance once again came about. His lips turned down in a frown and his eyes flicked away. "Because you were about to get yourself into a lot of shit," he answered. He gestured for Antonio to follow, continuing down the narrow pathway. Antonio's footsteps echoed after him. "See, this is why you need to learn the damn language if you're goin' to be visiting, you know.

"Those cops aren't what you'd consider 'good' cops." He paused momentarily as his eyes flicked skyward, silently judging his choice of words. "Rephrase. Most of the cops in Italy don't do shit, and when they do, it's not good. Especially in Napoli. Why do you think we get let off the hook for speeding so easily? They don't do their damn jobs, that's why." Bitterness echoed within his tone, his lips turned into a permanent frown. His eyes stared ahead, refusing to give Antonio a sideways glance.

The way he spoke, it seemed as though he held a certain resentment for the police force, though Antonio couldn't be entirely sure. He could pick up the subtle traces of anger, the way the Italian seemed to spit out the words, rather than simply speak them. He knew it was not just Lovino's way of speaking. No, he was spitting out a few of the words as though they were venom - namely the simple word of 'cop'.

"So Marcello is okay. The short guy. He's... alright," Lovino continued, "But that other guy. Damn... How the fuck did you get into that mess? If I hadn't come, you'd have your ass this high in-"

"What did you do anyway?"

Lovino's hand paused right where he held it, his words failing him. He finally glanced to the one beside him, then let out a sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Right. Not Italian. Fuck, that makes things so damn complicated..." He was swearing more than usual, Antonio realized. He did have quite the mouth on him, but to be swearing as much as this... It wasn't exactly something Antonio had noticed before.

The Italian's hand dropped and he glanced beyond Antonio, as if making sure that there was no one there. Once he deemed it as safe, he continued his fast pace, turning another corner. Cars now drove by to their left as they continued down the street. "Basically, they were going to take you in for bein' drunk out of your mind. And if not drunk, then drugged. Somethin' like that," he explained quickly. "They'd find a reason to bring you back to the station, whether it's true or not. Maybe Marcello would set the record straight, but Angelo... He's the one you have to worry about. The bastard will do whatever it takes, if it means he gets to lock someone up."

Antonio's brow furrowed. He picked up his pace so he could walk beside Lovino. "How do you know all this-?"

For a moment, Lovino was silent, his lips pursed. Then slowly, he breathed out a sigh. "I've had my fair share of troubles with that guy. Let's just put it that way..." he answered carefully.

He could tell there was more to the story. But, he would not press the matter. If Lovino didn't want to tell him, it was simply just that. Rather, Antonio focused on another question. "So then... How did you get me out of that, if this Angelo guy has a stick shoved that far up?"

Lovino's lips twitched into an amused smile, but then it was gone again. "You're gonna have to promise not to be angry with me. It was the only thing I could think of at the time." He danced to the side, grabbing Antonio's arm and tugging him over as well. As soon as the Spaniard was behind him, a moped sped past before swerving back into traffic.

Antonio jogged once again to resume his place beside Lovino. "I don't think I could ever be angry with you, Lovi," he answered truthfully.

"Hm." Eyes flicked to Antonio momentarily. "First off, it's Lovino. But. I told them you were my idiot brother who's a little slow in the head." He then smirked in amusement at Antonio's bemused expression. "So maybe it wasn't so nicely put, but it got the message through. You not knowing Italian really came in handy. Because apparently they agreed."

Antonio let out an airy laugh. "I'm glad it helped, but you don't really think that of me, do you?"

Lovino smirked in return. And oh, how Antonio loved that mischievous, playful glint in his eyes... "Maybe a little," he teased, "but it got them off your ass. More importantly, what the hell were you doing there? They said you were asleep, and by the looks of it..." He glanced Antonio up and down, then frowned disapprovingly. "You haven't even changed from last night - much less showered. You look like shit."

"Well thanks Mom," Antonio answered sarcastically, though his tone was laced with amusement. He didn't miss the subtle twitch of Lovino's lips, that hidden smile. He could see it dancing in the fiery Italian's eyes. He broke his gaze away from Lovino, pressing his palms together for a moment. "I, ah... I kind of slept on the bench last night...?"

"That was stupid of you."

"And my back agrees with you." A pause, then a breath. A hand reached up to run through tousled chocolate locks. "I got into a fight. With my, uh... My friends."

Lovino glanced to Antonio out of the corner of his eye, his lips forming a thin line. "The ones you're staying with?"

Antonio nodded. "Yeah. They didn't understand what I was trying to tell them, and..." He wondered just how much of the story he was willing to tell. He cast a sideways glance toward Lovino, his cheeks dusting with pink. Thankfully, it seemed that Lovino was too preoccupied with glancing about the street to notice. He could not tell him what the fight was about, he decided. No... There was no way he could. His mind wouldn't allow it in the first place, not with those cruel words still echoing within... "It didn't turn out so well." He offered a sheepish smile. "I kinda got a little too angry and stormed off. I thought about going to your house-"

Lovino cut the Spaniard off with a glance, mild surprise and curiosity filling those irises. "And why didn't you?"

"It was late. You were asleep, and... I guess I didn't want to bother you...?" There was a hum in response, and those forest green eyes left him. They turned down another road, and slowly, it began to look familiar to Antonio. "But... I didn't mean to go so far, and I kinda got myself lost."

"Easy to do in this place. Big cities will do that to you."

Antonio decided to brush off the implications behind those words, deeming them as unimportant. "So I kinda just... fell asleep on the bench. I was too tired to go anywhere, and I didn't want to get myself even more lost."

"And once again. That was stupid of you," Lovino echoed his words from before.

Another corner and Antonio could recognize the quaint little flower shop he had passed during his walk with Lovino the first day. Yes, he knew exactly where he was now. Only a few more blocks and the Italian's house would come into view. Wait... His steps faltered for a moment, his gaze darting to Lovino. No way. He was not leading him back to his house. No way was that happening. Things like that didn't just... happen.

But the questioning glance backward told him that it was. He jogged a few steps to catch up, an amused smile spreading across his lips. "Aww, Lovi, why didn't you tell me you were taking me back to your house~? That's so sweet of you!" he teased.

A faint tinge of pink spread across Lovino's cheeks. That, Antonio definitely could not miss. His lips turned down into a frown as his brow furrowed. He seemed to shrink in on himself, his shoulders hunching ever so slightly. "Of course I am, you idiot. You haven't showered, you've been wearing the same damn clothes for two days straight - though I did wash them for you so I guess it's not too bad - and I very highly doubt you want to go back to your friends, judgin' by how you were talkin' about them just now," he listed matter-of-factly. He then huffed and glanced to the one beside him once again. "Seriously, I'm a lot smarter than that. If you wanted to go back, you would've mentioned that earlier."

So he had picked up on something even Antonio hadn't realized himself. It was the truth; he didn't want to go back. Not yet... Those words still stung, they still held tightly onto his heart. Sure, he had thought about going back earlier, but that was due to having a lack of anywhere else to go. To think that even Lovino had picked up on something like that... He was surely a lot more observant of the Spaniard than he gave him credit for.

The corners of his lips pulled up into a gentle smile. "Thank you, Lovino. Really," he spoke. He would return later, he decided. But as of right now, he wanted to forget that argument. He wanted to forget the heated exchange of words, the enraged look in Francis's eyes when Antonio shot back an all-too-painful remark. And what better way than to spend yet another day with Lovino? His last day, he quietly reminded himself.

A grumbled response was the only one he received, and the two fell into a silent walk. They rounded another corner, and in the distance, Antonio could see the tall fence of Lovino's patio. He breathed out the breath he hadn't realized he had begun holding. Vaguely, he wondered if this would be the last time he would see it... The thought saddened him. He did not want to leave this place. Even with the thought of someday returning, it still weighed heavily on his heart. Because who knew when he would have the time, let alone the money, to return to such a beautiful place...

A beautiful, wonderful, exciting, place where fantasies seemed to come true... Where angels stood atop balconies, under the gentle rays of the moon... Where two souls caught up in the moment danced away under that same gentle light, the sand beneath their bare feet and the music surrounding them... Where laughter filled the air, only to be interrupted by taunting jests and playful remarks... Where home lay within the eyes of tranquil green, fiery amber, and mysterious brown... It was no wonder, Antonio mused, that all three colours could be found within Lovino's eyes, for that was exactly what he was made of.

His thoughts fled from him as he felt skin brush across his own. A tingling sensation spread from the back of his hand, traveling up his arm and warming him. A quick glance down told him all he needed to know; his hand had brushed against Lovino's, though it seemed that the Italian took no notice of it. Antonio pursed his lips as he pondered the possibilities swarming his mind, taking note of the close proximity between the two appendages. He glanced to Lovino, but the Italian kept his gaze away, lost within the depths of his own thoughts. He seemed so far away, yet he was right there beside him. Antonio wanted proof of that...

Timidly, he reached out. Fingers extended and his wrist pulled back. His heart pounding wildly in his chest, his thoughts mixed together in a cacophony of words and yet chanting the same phrase in unison. His breath caught in his throat, his world melting away around him. He could not feel the gentle wind as it caressed his skin. He could not feel the gentle beads of sweat at his brow, nor the rays of the sun warming him. His fingers were less than a centimeter away. He could feel the warmth of Lovino's skin, yet he could not feel the softness of it just yet.

Then it was gone. Hidden away within a pocket. The world came crashing in around him. The sun was once again unbearably hot. The brown locks were uncomfortably plastered to his forehead. The wind did little to cool his body, to steady the quickened rhythm of his heart. His gaze flicked up to show that Lovino was not looking toward him. Instead, those eyes were focused on the fast-approaching house; their destination.

He, too, pulled his hand away, fingers curling toward his palm. He wondered if Lovino had perhaps sensed what was going to happen, but he could only assume that he didn't. After all, how could someone know if they did not so much as glance toward the one walking beside them? He breathed out a silent sigh of defeat and dismissed the thoughts from his brain, letting the silence settle in around him.

That is, until Lovino spoke. "You can use my shower as soon as we get inside. I'll bring you a spare change of clothes and leave them outside for you. I think I have some old clothes I won't care about gettin' rid of." He glanced to Antonio, then focused his gaze back to the house. "When are you leaving Italia?"

He did not want to answer that. Oh, how he wished he didn't have to... But, it had to be answered, and answered truthfully. "Tomorrow," Antonio answered carefully.

Lovino's lips drew together and for a moment, he was silent. And Antonio could've sworn his steps had faltered, his gaze wavering momentarily. But as soon as he had caught it, it was gone again. A calm expression instantly took over the Italian's features, though his eyes were a storm. "What time is your flight?"

That was a good question... Antonio drew his brow together as he pondered over it. A few numbers dashed through his head until he finally found the one he was looking for. "Three," he replied quietly. "The plane leaves at three." Oh, but there was still more to it... He would be waiting around for a while before his flight. He glanced to Lovino. "I have to leave the hotel at noon. Or else we have to pay for another day."

Lovino nodded in understanding. "Yeah, hotels are tricky like that... So what're you going to be doing?"

Antonio couldn't help but to question Lovino's sudden curiosity. But, he supposed, they were friends. (Perhaps.) And it was a conversation topic. So no wonder it had to be asked... He breathed out a sigh through his head, shaking his head. "I don't know," he answered truthfully, "We didn't really plan anything out. We have to be at the airport by two, so it doesn't really give us enough time to really... do anything." He cast a suspicious glance to Lovino, studying his expression. It was carefully guarded, so masterfully woven together. He could not find the truth behind it, though he felt that the calmness was too unsettling to be the entire picture. "Why do you ask?"

Lovino shook his head. "No reason. Just curious," he replied. The answer came a little too casually. He slowed as they came to the gate, opening it and walking through before Antonio. He retrieved a key from his pocket and unlocked the door, pulling that open as well. "We're drinking tonight," he announced as he deposited the key in its respective place.

Antonio could only stare in surprise.

"I have some... really good wine in the cabinet. One of the best, if I do say so myself. A... friend of the family owns the vineyard it comes from," Lovino continued, "I can get drinks cheap from there, and you don't want to go back yet, so... If you're up for it..." He trailed off as his eyes warily glanced to his guest.

The Spaniard couldn't help the small smile that wound onto his lips. Oh, but it didn't stay small. No, it grew, until he was grinning. Excitedly, he nodded. "Of course!" he spoke - perhaps a little too chipperly. It seemed to throw the Italian off guard, thus Antonio instantly toned it down. "I mean. Sí. Sí, I'd love to."

Lovino breathed out, though it was not in a sigh, Antonio noted. His shoulders relaxed and he glanced away. "Good. Good..." Then came out the sigh. An Italian phrase slipped past his lips in a mumble, a hand raking through dark auburn locks. They only fell right back into place.

Then a thought occurred to Antonio; how would he be able being intoxicated around him? He already found him beautiful, that much was certain. But after seeing him that first night while drunk on the beach, and his most recent realization about the Italian... Would being alone really be such a great idea? His smile fell away. "Lovino...?" he spoke timidly. Green eyes flicked to him in curiosity and anxious anticipation. He offered an apologetic smile. "I would... love to have drinks with you, but, ah... Do you really think it's a good-"

"If I didn't want you to have some of it, I wouldn't have offered," Lovino instantly cut in, a tad louder than what Antonio had expected him to be. Upon realizing his mistake, Lovino quieted and turned away from the door. He worked on removing his shoes. "I told you; I get wine for cheap from there. And it's just been sittin' there in the cabinet. I haven't touched it. So..."

He was flattered. Truly, he was. But alas, there was no way he could allow it. Not after all the trouble Lovino had already gone through... Brow furrowing, he stepped forward and extended a hand to Lovino as the younger stood. "No, no, I can't, I-"

Lovino cut him off with a glance. That fire still burned brightly, but it was not as harsh, not as dangerous. It was gentle. "Please," he spoke quietly.

It was uncharacteristic of him, and Antonio almost thought to pinch himself in case he was still asleep, back there on that bench. But he refrained from doing so - at least, until Lovino glanced away once more. The Italian's hands curled into loose fists. His breathing seemed unsteady, almost forced. And then Antonio realized - he was trembling. Lovino was shaking, his brow creased and a storm raging wildly within his eyes. And for a moment, just a brief moment, Antonio could see fear.

"I don't care, alright? I just... Goddamnit, just shut up and take the damn offer. I won't say it again."

Antonio stared for a brief moment, his mind trying to process exactly what he was seeing. Slowly, he nodded. "Alright," he answered, his voice much quieter than what he was used to.

Lovino glanced to him, hope breaking through the storm for a fraction of a second.

"If that's what you want to do, then... alright."

That was all the answer he needed to give. Lovino's fingers uncurled themselves as his shoulders relaxed. He glanced away, once again running a hand through his hair. But he said nothing more on the matter, not for another moment. He glanced down to Antonio's feet, then up the stairs. "Go ahead and uh... Go ahead and shower. The upstairs one. The one downstairs isn't as good, so... Anyway, uh, I'll get the clothes," he spoke. "We'll have drinks when you get out." And he was gone, racing up the stairs. Bare feet thudded against each wooden step as a hand trailed up the railing, Antonio watching after him.

For a moment, all he could do was stand there and stare, watching as Lovino disappeared to the second level. And only when he was gone did his lips crack into a thin smile. Not only had he been invited for a drink, but he had also been invited to stay. Lovino had invited him, and then even argued for his position on it... Antonio laughed breathlessly. As he removed his shoes, he wondered if this would be considered a date. A part of him hoped so. A date with Lovino... His smile only grew. He knew that it wasn't; it couldn't possibly be, after all. If it was, the Italian would have said. While he certainly did keep to himself on plenty of matters, he certainly was not the kind to trick someone else into something like this. Thus, if it had been a date, he would have said so.

Chuckling to himself, Antonio padded his way up the stairs, briefly glancing through the crack in the door to see Lovino rummaging through his dresser. He decided it was not the best to spy on him, however, and quickly darted into the bathroom. The door clicked into place behind him and he exhaled. He had no idea why it felt like he had been sneaking past the Italian; Lovino already knew of how Antonio was off to shower.

Nonetheless, Antonio didn't allow himself to think on it for too long. He had his reasons, whether they were known to him or not.

He shed himself of his clothes and retrieved a towel from the cabinet. When he finally stepped into the shower itself, he had made sure the water would be warm; warm enough to relax his muscles. He needed it, he realized, and now he understood why Lovino had guided him to the upstairs bathroom. While he was unsure of how the shower was downstairs, the one he stood under was certainly relaxing. The way the water poured from the showerhead was reminiscent to a massage, almost, though he knew that an actual one would be a lot more relaxing. He breathed deeply to inhale the steam that began to fill the room, letting it sit in his lungs for a moment before breathing it. With that breath, he let all thoughts scatter from his mind. The memories from the night before fled with them, leaving him with a feeling of peace.

He kept his shower short. His host was waiting for him, after all, and he already felt guilty enough for using up the water the day before. It was quite the strange thought, he mused, that in the beginning, Lovino wanted nothing to do with him (and with good reason), but now, he was one of the most hospitable people Antonio had ever had the pleasure of meeting. As he stepped out of the shower, enjoying the mist all around, he let a small smile tug at the corner of his lips. It was quite the progress, and to be entirely truthful, he could hardly believe it hadn't even been a week. It felt like so long ago... Ages...

Yet, at the same time, it was all in the blink of an eye, every detail so vivid and fresh in his mind.

No. No, now was not the time to think of that. He had other things to worry about. Such as, once again, his host. He breathed out a sigh through his nostrils, green eyes flicking to the bathroom door momentarily. No doubt, the clothes had already been dropped off for him. Well, there was only one way to find out.

Steam escaped through the crack as he carefully pulled the door open just a fraction, just enough to where he could peer out without being seen. His eyes didn't have to travel far, for there, in a small basket, were folded clothes. He glanced up, and upon finding no sign of Lovino, swung the door open wider to pull the clothes inside - all while using the towel to cover himself. As soon as the basket was inside, the door was swung closed. He was careful not to let it slam shut.

He would have just pulled the clothes unceremoniously out of the basket, if it weren't for the note that caught his eye, resting atop the folded pile. Curious, he set the basket down upon the counter and picked up the note. The letters - slightly slanted to the right - were neater than he would have expected, with arching curves and taller letters.

'Just leave the towel in here, and leave the basket in the bathroom. I'll pick it up later,' it read. And at the bottom right corner, it was signed with the letter L, written in stylized cursive.

He stared for a moment longer, then allowed for his eyes to flick to the clothes. He set the paper down on the counter, dried himself, and pulled on the clothes gifted to him; a blue hoodie with the word 'ITALIA' written across the front, and a pair of simple jeans to accompany it. It was simple, yet comfortable, and Antonio quite liked it. The hoodie, however... it was amusing to the Spaniard. He recalled Lovino's words, taking note of how the other had mentioned he had clothes he didn't mind getting rid of. Would this, Antonio mused, be one of those clothes? It would be a rather tourist-like action to return from Italy with a hoodie that bore the name of the aforementioned country.

Depositing the towel into the basket and pocketing the slip of paper, the brunet left the bathroom, leaving the door open to allow it to air out. Lovino was right; the shower had helped his back. He could feel the muscles; feel how they didn't tug so sharply at his bones. While it still felt stiff, he no longer felt the pain that radiated from it. He would have to be sure to thank him, he reminded himself. He padded along the hall, and as he traveled down the stairs, a delicious, warm scent wafted to his nose. He breathed in deeply, curiosity filling him. As he neared the bottom of the steps and rounded the corner, he could hear the sizzling of the pan, the scent of cooking meat and mushrooms becoming distinguishable.

But before he could enter the kitchen, his eyes fixed on Lovino's back, it seemed that the Italian had become aware of his presence.

Green eyes glanced over a shoulder as his cooking paused, filled with mild curiosity and surprise. "Oh," he spoke, his tone flat at first, "I didn't expect you to be out already." A small pause, and he glanced back to his work. "Feel better?"

Antonio smiled and stepped forward, running a hand through his hair in an attempt to tame the mess of curls atop his head. "Much," he answered truthfully. "Gracias." He earned a grunt in acknowledgement, but nothing more than that. He stepped forward again, craning his neck in an attempt to see what was cooking inside the pan on the stove. "What're you cooking? It smells delicious!"

"Of course it smells delicious," Lovino retorted, "I'm the one cooking it." He made an effort to place himself between Antonio and the pan, much to the Spaniard's confusion, and glanced over his shoulder once more. He reached for the pile of meat at his side, adding more to the pan. "I'm cooking dinner," he finally responded. "I know it's early, but y'know what? I don't care. I'm frickin' starving."

Wow. Dinner. Again. It truly was unbelievable, in such a pleasant way. His smile became more sincere, with a touch of apologetic mixed within. "You really don't have to, Lovino-" Before he could even finish the three-syllable name, Lovino spoke up to cut him off.

"Have you eaten today?"

"¿Qué?"

Lovino let out an exasperated sigh. "I'll take that as a no," he assumed on his own. He kept himself between Antonio and the food, no matter how much the Spaniard tried to lean around him. He even reached up and waved the spatula threateningly when the older came too close. "I'm cookin' dinner. You've been out all day; I doubt you've eaten a single damn thing. So you better eat all of it, you hear?"

A chuckle slipped past Antonio, before it bubbled into a short laugh. "Alright, Mom," he teased, only to receive a glare in warning. And as soon as Lovino turned away again, he moved swiftly. He reached around the Italian, into the pan, and snatched out a pinch of its contents; meat, it seemed. He ignored the Italian profanity pouring from the man before him, dancing away from the spatula as it waved wildly. He gave a wide grin and quickly ate the piece of meat he had managed to steal. Oh, it was so delicious. It burned his tongue, as he should have assumed by the way it heated his fingers, but oh, it was so worth it.

Lovino, however, wasn't so pleased with the outcome, a frown decorating his lips. He let out a loud sigh and shook his head, turning away again. He grumbled something about a child, though Antonio didn't quite catch it. After stirring the contents once more, he gestured to the living room with the spatula. "Dinner will be done soon. That wine I was talkin' about is already in the living room. I'll bring it out when it's done. Now go before I beat you in the head with this spatula," he ordered.

Antonio complied. The wonderful taste of spiced meat still lingered on his taste buds as he fled from the kitchen, across the hall, and into the living room. Sure enough, there was the wine, sitting peacefully atop the coffee table. On either side of said bottle, two glasses stood tall and proud. The living room itself, he realized, was bathed in an orange and red glow, reflecting the colours that streaked across the sky. That stormy night flashed in the back of his mind, and for a moment, his breath caught in his throat. Silently, he reminded himself that Lovino was alright; he was perfectly fine. Perhaps a bit irritated due to the stolen food, but he was not hiding. He was not crying. He was fine.

He placed himself down on the couch and leaned back, eyes flicking to the wine. It took all his will not to let his curiosity rein him. This was not his house, he had to remind himself. This was not a wine he had purchased himself. This was Lovino's house, and Lovino had purchased that bottle of wine. He had no say in the matter, even if he knew what it was. Not that he minded. He had tried very many different types of wines in his youth, and while Spanish wine would always hold a special place in his heart, he enjoyed tasting the other varieties that could be found within the world.

He pulled himself out of his thoughts as soon as he heard muted footsteps draw near, eyes flicking to the source to see Lovino walking directly toward him with two plates, one in each hand. Atop those plates, Antonio realized, were two sandwiches. His mouth watered at the very sight, his stomach hollering to take a bite. But oh, it wasn't even close enough yet.

A snicker came from Lovino as he placed himself beside Antonio, handing one plate to the Spaniard. An amused smile played along his lips. "If that's not the look of a frickin' dog, I don't know what is," he spoke. "Seriously, how long has it been since you've eaten? You look like you haven't eaten in days, santo cielo..."

Antonio was already taking his first bite of the sandwich when he heard the question. His eyes flicked to Lovino and he took a moment to chew and swallow. As he remained silent during this time, he let his mind wander, rewinding back the past two days until he finally came to his answer. "Yesterday," he admitted, "when I was with you." He took another bite, pulling his eyes away. Lovino, too, was starting his own sandwich. "The, uh... The fight sort of happened as soon as I got back yesterday, so..." He could feel eyes on him, but he did not meet Lovino's gaze.

It was Lovino who decided to tear his eyes away, hand reaching for the bottle. He popped open the top - it seemed that he had already recorked it for ease of access, judging by the corkscrew lying near the bottle - and poured a glass. He handed it over to the one beside him. "Well thank God I found you when I did. Not only would you probably be at the station right now, but you'd be wastin' away there," he pointed out with amusement lacing into his words.

Antonio let out an airy laugh as he took the glass offered to him. A grin was tossed Lovino's way. "Sí, I would've been! Muchos gracias!" He drew the glass to his lips, and after only a moment's hesitance, he took a sip. It was sweet, but the distinct bitterness of this particular variety of alcohol was still very much obvious. It warmed his mouth and throat as it traveled down to his stomach. He hummed in appreciation. It accompanied the sandwich so well, it seemed. "Wow. It's good." When he glanced to Lovino, he could see the traces of curiosity dancing in eyes that seemed to capture him so, no matter what time of day.

A timid hand reached for the second glass, and Lovino poured himself a portion. He returned the bottle to its original position and carefully took a sip of his own. He nodded. "Sì, it is," he agreed. He then nestled back against the cushions, taking another sip of his drink.

The Spaniard, however, didn't take his eyes off the one next to him, for a thought had occurred to him. Lovino had mentioned earlier that he often bought drinks from where this one had come from. He raised an eyebrow. "I thought you get this kind often?"

Lovino shook his head. "This kind? No. From that vineyard? Yes," he corrected. "This one, I haven't tried before. It has more alcohol content than I'm used to."

Well. That was interesting. His brows furrowed as he set the glass down, to replace it with the sandwich. "Is that why you haven't opened it?" he questioned curiously. He took a bite of his delicious meal. If Lovino wasn't siting right there, he would probably moan at the way the tastes of the cheese, meat, and mushrooms melted in his mouth. But of course, there was no way he could do something like that in front of the Italian.

The answer came a little later than Antonio had expected. "No," Lovino spoke, almost quietly. He kept his eyes away from the other. "I just... didn't have anyone to drink it with. My brother was supposed to come down and drink it. But he went... somewhere else."

That troubled gaze... Antonio's lips formed a thin line. He did not want to press. No, not on his own. He had heard Lovino speak of his brother on many occasions. It was more than obvious that Lovino held such a dear love for his younger sibling. But judging by just that, they weren't always on such great terms - even in the present day. It was rather reminiscent... It almost made him smile. But alas, he made sure not to, not wanting to give Lovino the wrong impression. He offered a gentler smile, putting down the sandwich long enough to reach over. He gave the Italian's shoulder a compassionate squeeze as green eyes flicked to him. He said nothing, hoping instead that this single action was enough.

His hand retreated and he continued eating, catching the gentle smile Lovino returned - though the Italian tried to hide it behind his glass by taking a sip. His heart swelled with pride at the sheer thought of being the cause for a smile to grace his angel's lips. Lovino was not one he wanted to see crying. He wanted to see him laughing, see him smiling. Grinning, smirking, laughing, smiling... It didn't matter; he wanted to see joy on the other's face. He wanted to hear that beautiful laugh from last night, that same laugh that echoed in his mind, even now.

He instantly shoved the thought aside. As much as he wanted to hear it, he could not expect to hear it. He could not expect to make the Italian laugh constantly, no matter he wished for it. He was but a simple man and while they were not strangers, they certainly were not close friends. He could only wonder, as he looked to Lovino out of the corner of his eye, just what Lovino possibly thought of him. He wanted to know the depths of the other's mind, to know of the thoughts that swam so deeply in his mind. The man was a mystery. While some things could be seen like an open book, there were so many others that he just... could not figure out, for the life of him, no matter how hard he tried.

His thoughts fled from him as he heard the other's voice. "It's too quiet in here," the Italian noted. When Antonio looked to him, he realized that the other was looking away from him, his gaze instead focused on another part of the room. The wine glass and the plate were both set on the coffee table, and Lovino stood with a heavy sigh. "You don't mind music, do you?" he questioned, glancing to his side.

Antonio almost replied instantly. Of course he wouldn't mind music! If anything, he mused, perhaps another scene such as the night before would occur again. But he bit back his tongue, knowing full well that he could not voice such thoughts. No, that would not be the smartest idea. Contrary to popular belief, he actually did have a brain within that head of his, and he did know how to go with his better judgment for certain instances. So instead, he grinned and shook his head. "No, I don't mind! Go ahead," he answered, waving his hand in the direction of the Italian.

Giving a nod and rubbing his hands together momentarily, Lovino strode across the room. He squatted down near the fireplace, where a bag rested. He retrieved the small stereo from the night before, placing it down on the wooden floor. After pressing a few buttons and fiddling with the tuner, he zoned in on the station he was looking for and stood again. Soft music flowed from the speakers and Lovino, satisfied with his decision, returned to his spot to eat again.

Antonio looked to the other in mild amusement, picking up absolutely none of the lyrics that came to his ears. "But you know, Lovi," he spoke, "I thought you didn't like visitors." It was something that he had heard the other say the day before. It had been the whole reason they had left for the beach in the first place, if he actually recalled the events correctly.

He watched as olive cheeks flushed red. Brows furrowed and a frown spread across Lovino's lips. Sharp eyes glanced to the side, meeting Antonio's for a brief moment. "I needed the company, alright?" he retorted, his shoulders much too stiff.

Something about the way he spoke told Antonio that the other wasn't exactly telling him the full truth. His words were much too sharp, his eyes too skeptical. He was careful and calculating, almost defensive. Antonio didn't even realize the amused smirk that curled up on his own lips at the sight.

Lovino, on the other hand, had noticed. His cheeks flushed darker and he instantly glanced away. "Shut up."

"I didn't say anything," Antonio pointed out, the amusement growing in him.

Lovino's cheeks darkened, the frown deepening. "I know, just- Fuckin' hell, just shut up!" he repeated. He then decided to make his point by taking a large bite of his sandwich.

A laugh came from Antonio at the sight, and only grew when the blush spread to Lovino's ears. He doubled over in the laughter, ignoring the Italian curses that poured from Lovino. "Oh d-dios mio-!" he stuttered, breathless as he laughed, "you look like a little tomato!"

"I do not! I'm not a tomato!"

"You sure... You sure do l-look like... like one-!"

"God, you're so annoying! You're the Tomato Bastard here, not me! Shut up already!"

Oh, but he didn't. Not until a few moments later, when his laughter finally died down again. Lovino guzzled down what was left of his glass of wine, threatening to break it atop of the Spaniard's head as he poured another glass. But those threats died down with the laughter, and Antonio looked to Lovino with joy dancing in his eyes. "Really, though. You aren't telling me the truth, Lovi." He ignored the glare shot toward him, knowing full well it was for the nickname. Did he care? Of course not.

Lovino breathed out a sigh and continued eating his sandwich. "And what makes you think, exactly," he spoke between aggravated bites, "that I'm lyin' to you?"

"You know," a beat, "you're not very good at speaking your mind, Lovino."

The Italian's breath hitched for a moment. He froze mid-bite, eyes flicking to Antonio momentarily. Fear hid deep within that storm, beyond the fire. He finished his bite and swallowed, letting the silence fall in around them - save for the music, of course. He lowered the sandwich - nearly gone by now - and pressed his lips together, into a thin line. His gaze flicked away. "No," he answered truthfully, "No, I'm not." He was silent for a moment before he finally took another bite, leaving only one left. "I never have been. That's the thing about me. My brother's the exact oppos-"

"You really need to stop comparing yourself to your brother," Antonio interjected. The words had left his lips without his meaning to. He hadn't realized until that moment that such words were so irritating to him. Sure, he liked hearing of Lovino's brother, hearing of the relationship between the two. But to hear Lovino being put down every single time the other mentioned his sibling... It was painful, in a way. His own meal was left forgotten in his lap as he spoke again, "You're your own person. If you keep comparing yourself to others, Lovino... People are only going to see that. They're not going to see who you are, but who others are."

Lovino scrutinized him for a moment, before a frown tugged at his lips. "And who says that anyone's interested in who I am, ah? My brother's got a lot more goin' for him than I do."

And there it was. The resentment. No... More like, the sibling rivalry. The envy. The overall thought process of 'of course they're better'. "And who are you to judge that?"

Lovino's gaze flicked away. His eyes screamed the answers, but the words were lost in translation. They did not slip past the Italian's lips, thus they were left unknown to Spaniard.

Antonio's gaze softened. He glanced down, eyes landing on the hand that curled around the edge of the plate. ... Perhaps... He steeled himself as he took in a deep breath. Slowly, carefully, he reached forward. "I think you have a lot more to you than you think, Lovino..." he voiced gently. His fingers brushed against Lovino's hand, and carefully, he curled them around the soft appendage.

From where Antonio sat, he could see Lovino's chest still. His breathing had stopped. His eyes stared down to the food in his lap, and when he finally breathed out, he pulled his hand away to lift the plate from his lap. He set it on the coffee table, saying nothing of the hand that had been placed on his own. "You really don't understand, do you?"

"No, I don't," Antonio spoke sincerely, "but I do know that you're a lot more than you think you are." He retracted his hand, understanding fully his mistake. It was stupid, to think that such affection would be accepted. He returned to his own sandwich, not quite enjoying the silence that settled between them.

In that silence, he watched Lovino out of the corner of his eye. The Italian was halfway through his second glass, and held it thoughtfully in his hands. He twirled it every now and then, eyes flicking down to watch the liquid. Anger was not what Antonio saw. He saw careful contemplation. He could see the mental debates, the unspoken arguments floating around. He knew not the words, but he recognized the look.

Finally, Lovino spoke up again. "My brother was supposed to drink with me," he repeated. "As I said. He's not here. You want to know why?" He didn't give Antonio a chance to answer. He jumped straight to the answer. "Because he's in Germany - with his boyfriend. In the past year alone, he's been in Germany more than he has Italy. I hardly ever see him anymore. Ever since he met that damn bastard, he's been wasting all his money on visiting him.

"We had plans to drink this for his birthday, back in March. That didn't happen."

Antonio fell silent. Now he understood the reasoning behind wanting to get rid of it. But as to whether or not Lovino actually enjoyed company, well... He did not know the answer to that. He finished his sandwich and deposited his plate onto the coffee table.

"Don't get me wrong. He's a good kid. But damnit, he's not perfect, and everybody fuckin' acts like it. Everyone always thinks he can't go wrong." He then paused, eyes flicking to Antonio. "I know. A lot of this is comin' from my irritation at him for not coming to see me when he said he would. I don't need another person telling me that, so don't even open that stupid mouth of yours."

Lovino's eyes flicked away again. "Yeah. I lied. So what? So I guess here's the damn truth: I wanted to go to the beach, alright? I might live right next to it, but I don't go all the time. I don't have the time. Rephrase: I didn't have the time. I'm not one for opening up, and I know that. But damnit, I have my own reasons."

Ah. Well... This all made too much sense. Antonio offered an apologetic smile. "Lo siento. I didn't mean to upset you with that, I just-"

"I'm not done," Lovino cut in. His hands were trembling, sweat beading on his forehead - and it was not from the heat. He sipped away at his wine, breathing deeply to calm himself. Leaning back against the couch, he continued, "He does have a lot more goin' for him. That's not just me bein' angry. I fucked up a hell of a lot more than you know. And my brother, he's the perfect little angel who never did anything his brother did. So don't fucking argue with me when I say he's got a lot more goin' for him - because damnit, he does."

He was stunned into silence. He hadn't expected such a reaction. But somehow, it wasn't angry. There was frustration, but there wasn't anger. There was no ill will directed to anyone, whether it was Lovino's brother or Antonio. Antonio stared for a moment, taking his own wine into his hands. He wanted to apologize again, but he knew there was nothing he could do. He couldn't apologize, it would do no good. He could not expect to fix Lovino, or change his mental process. And damnit, he didn't know where to even begin.

It seemed that the Italian still wasn't done. He glanced toward Antonio, then focused back on his quickly-diminishing wine. He took another sip - though it was much more of a gulp than a sip. "I fucked up... so bad. I regret everything, but shit... There was... so much I've done," he mumbled. He raked a hand through his hair, letting out a heavy sigh. Emotions swam in his eyes, conflicting with one another. He chose his next words carefully, "I never told you why I was running from those guys. When we first met..."

Antonio remembered that moment, clear as day. He had thought that Lovino simply had somewhere to be, and while that was partly true, it was mainly due to fleeing - something he had found out shortly after literally running into him. He had always been curious, but to ask him... Well, that was another story. He could never do it, and frankly, he did not need anything more than what he had already been told. But alas, it seemed that Lovino was already speaking. The dam had broken, and there was no fixing it anytime soon.

"It's stupid..." Lovino muttered, downing the rest of his second glass and pouring his third. Antonio wanted to stop him, but alas, it was too late. The third glass was already poured, held within in his hands. "I've kinda wanted to tell you, but damn. I don't even know where to start. But damnit, you deserve to know, because I don't know if I've pulled you into it or not...

"Remember how I mentioned Angelo was trouble?"

The Spaniard nodded, attracting the gaze of Lovino for a brief second.

"He and I have a... history together, I guess you can say," he spoke carefully, "He was an officer in Rome at first. I ran away from home when I was a teenager, and went to Rome first. I got into some... bad business there. It wasn't the mafia, but... I guess you could say it was close." His voice had quieted to a near-whisper, almost too quiet to be heard over the soft music of the radio. He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees as he held the glass in both hands. A frown was etched onto his lips, tugging the corners of his lips downwards. Emotions swirled in his eyes, fighting one another for dominance.

For a moment, Antonio thought that Lovino's story ended there, that he thought better of it. But when he parted his lips, he realized that was not the case. Lovino was simply having troubles finding the right words.

Finally, after downing another sip, Lovino spoke up again, "Angelo put me behind bars a few times. Some charges were false, some true. I moved to Palermo, and damn, I saw some... horrible things..." He breathed out and ran a shaking hand through his hair once again.

He fought for the words to say. "It wasn't pretty... I did some pretty nasty jobs..." He cringed, and Antonio could see the traces of a memory dancing in his eyes. Lovino shook it off, however. "But. I digress... Those guys you ran into, they were former coworkers of mine. They claimed I... still owed them... for their help." He chose his words carefully, avoiding Antonio's gaze. The way he spoke, it was all too obvious he was leaving out so much more detail of the accounts.

The Spaniard could understand. Something like this wasn't so easily spoken of. He wanted to console the other, but alas, he was not given a chance.

Lovino's gaze met his, sharp and determined. "I'm not into that anymore. The moment my brother found me, I left. I paid my debts, and I left. I was..." He looked away again, focusing instead on the wine in his hands. "I was terrified. I thought they saw his face... Knew I had a brother. They didn't, thankfully, but..." He shook his head. "Nevermind. Point is... Those guys were chasin' me, because I fucked my life up. As I said. My brother's a hell of a lot more deserving of lo- his current life than I am."

He still wasn't convinced. He didn't expect any more details, and frankly, he didn't even need that much spoken. But rather, he was not convinced of the main point behind the entire speech. Antonio stared for a moment before he let out yet another sigh. He took a sip of his wine, finally finishing off his first glass. "Lovino," he spoke. He was careful not to put a single ounce of negativity in the name. It was a simple word, a calling of sorts.

When green eyes flicked to him, hesitant and fearful, he gave a frown. "You really think I care?" Wait. That came out wrong. He mentally cursed himself, quickly adding on. "I've gotten myself into a lot of trouble when I was younger. Gilbert, Francis, and I have had our fair share of time behind bars," he recounted. His eyes flicked away. "I've done things I regret, too... I hurt someone. Really... really bad... Not physically, but... emotionally, I hurt her. And that's the worst kind of pain... Wounds heal. Mental scars don't..." And oh, was it too true. He knew full well of the pain he had caused, and the guilt still weighed on his heart.

Even now, it was trying to consume him, now that he had even just mentioned it briefly. But he fought against it. He tried his hardest to absolutely ignore, but oh, it was so hard... He instead decided to focus on something a little more solid, something that was right before him - Lovino. His eyes flicked to the other and he offered a smile. "Point is... We've all done things we regret. That's life for you. It only makes you human," he pointed out. "I'm sure your brother, too, has things he regrets. You just don't know it, because you're not in his mind. You don't hear what his thoughts are telling him."

Lovino stared for a moment. Emotion swam through his eyes before he finally let out a breath and looked away once more. He did not answer.

Antonio watched as Lovino set down the glass and gathered up the plates, watching him leave the room. He had done wrong. He could see that now. He had spoken out of turn, and now he was paying the price for it. He had messed up - greatly. He knew he was good at that... But to this extent? He thought perhaps that he had gotten his point across. Apparently not...

He held his glass in one hand as he held his head in his other. He let his eyes slide closed, his brows furrowing together. He shouldn't have even spoken up. Maybe he shouldn't even be here. No, he should be back at the hotel, spending time with his friends. But ah... They wouldn't enjoy his company, not after their argument from the night before. It was rather disheartening, to be honest, and he didn't know if he could face them. Especially not like this... He could feel the tingling effects of the alcohol, as little as they were.

Then he felt warmth at his side. He hadn't even heard the footsteps approaching, much less the cushions shifting as Lovino sat down. But he could feel a weight against him, feel arms wrapped loosely, hesitantly, around him. His head shot up at the realization, and when he looked to the side, he was met with the sight of auburn locks. A head rested against his shoulder and the arms tightened ever so slightly.

In response, he transferred his empty glass to his right hand and carefully slid his left arm out from between their bodies. He returned the hug, hesitant and unsure of himself. But when it tightened again, he gave a reassuring squeeze and, without thinking about it, leaned down to kiss the top of Lovino's head.

That was when the Italian pulled away, unwrapping his arms from the Spaniard. Keeping his eyes away from Antonio, he picked up the wine glass he had placed down and began sipping away again. His eyes showed he careful contemplation once more, though it seemed to not be as troubled as before. His posture was once more relaxed and, as Antonio had noticed the day before, shy. He was curled up in his spot, his feet pulled up onto the cushions. He held the glass with both hands and his gaze stayed fixated forward, yet staring at nothing at the same time. A light pink tinge coloured his cheeks.

He was, in all forms of the word, beautiful. The golden glow had faded as the sun had set beyond the sea, but the glow from the lamps made his skin glow all the same. It was a gentle light, and it was a comforting one. Like that of home, Antonio realized.

The Spaniard's posture relaxed as he caught himself staring toward the Italian. But he did not look away. After a moment, their eyes met, Lovino nervously glancing over.

Lovino's shoulders stiffened, his eyes widening a fraction. The colour on his cheeks only intensified. He groaned and glanced away, one hand leaving his glass to reach to his side, opposite Antonio.

Once moment, Antonio was entirely confused as to what the Italian was doing. The next, he knew all too well. For soon after he had given Lovino a questioning look, his world turned black and a softness was pressed against his face. He nearly dropped the glass in his hand, fumbling to catch both it and the pillow that Lovino had released. It all came crystal clear to him; Lovino had just shoved a pillow into his face.

Antonio let out a laugh, which was met with a groan of annoyance and the roll of eyes. He ignored it and set the glass down, reaching for the pillow in his lap. With a grin, he shoved it forward, smacking Lovino in the shoulder with it.

Lovino looked to Antonio, bemused. His eyes flicked from his guest's face, to the pillow, to his face again. Then realization dawned in his eyes. They widened, and then narrowed. A fire burned brightly within those eyes. "You did not."

"And what if I did?" The answer was given without missing a single beat.

Lovino's eyes narrowed dangerously. The fire sparked back to life, as bright and wild as ever. Antonio almost feared it would burn him, right then and there. But instead, it was directed away from him, and a nonchalant mask was thrown up. Lovino rolled his shoulders, sipping his wine. "I dunno," he responded, far too calmly. In the blink of an eye, he reached for another throw pillow and smacked Antonio with it - right in the face.

Antonio was knocked back by the sudden attack, his back hitting the couch momentarily. He stared in disbelief at the one before him. A mischievous glance met his astonished one. He could not believe that this was happening. Lovino was really hitting him with pillows. No way. This was something out of a romance novel, a teen drama. Not a- His thoughts cut off there.

Now he understood. All those books scattered around the house... The way Lovino mentioned his brother's romantic partner... The realization dawned on him. He couldn't help but to crack a smile. Truthfully, what else did he expect? He had heard stories of Italians and their adventures with romance. But to think of Lovino in the same light... It was unfathomable.

Nonetheless, he allowed himself to be caught up in the moment. A wide smile spread across his lips, and Lovino gulped down the rest of his wine - no doubt to save it from being knocked over. The glass was quickly placed down on the table, just as Lovino shot up from the couch and darted away. Antonio gave chase.

It was strange, to be acting like such children when they were well within their twenties. Who knew that two grown men would actually involve themselves in a pillow fight? But they did just that. Lovino rounded the table, and Antonio was quick to follow, flinging his arm forward. The small pillow collided with Lovino's shoulder, and it was instantly retaliated with an attack of his own. Antonio let out a loud laugh and defended before attacking with his own once more. And while Lovino wasn't laughing, that wide grin told everything Antonio was looking for - he was having fun.

Then the attack turned on him. The Spaniard danced out of the way and squeaked as another pillow was hurled at him, ducking under the first one and raising his arm to defend from the second pillow Lovino wielded as a sword. Keeping his bent posture, Antonio struck out at Lovino's hip with the pillow already in his hand. And a laugh came from the Italian. Oh, how it was such a beautiful sound. They traded words in Italian and Spanish, neither of them knowing the translation for such threats, as they raced around the living room.

As they fought, Antonio took careful notice of the way Lovino stumbled every now and then, but seeing as how Lovino didn't make a big deal of it, he thought better than to worry about it. He instead worried more about whether or not he would win the fight, trying with all his might to land more hits than the ones he received. But alas, the fight could not last forever. With the music playing the background to aid to their wild chase, Antonio found that it was rather tiring to try to keep up with the Italian.

Lovino was fast and light on his feet. He would jump up onto the couches and bound across them, as if it was nothing. He was quick to dart and duck, to avoid attacks at all costs. He clearly had experience in such things, for Antonio had not met someone so nimble and quick. It was quite the challenge to keep up with the other, and eventually, the older found that he just plain couldn't. Thus, he did what any man would do. He chucked his pillow at Lovino.

No, he didn't just throw it. He didn't toss it. He threw it as hard as he possibly could. And just as he had expected, Lovino had lifted his hands to block the quickly approaching object. Antonio took his chance. He darted forward and under the pillow that doubled as a shield, knocking it away and sliding underneath Lovino's arms. His shoulder met with the other's chest, and he easily knocked him down. And down they went. Thankfully, Antonio had managed to angle it just right so that Lovino's back landed against the soft cushions of the longest couch, though not without a surprised squeak.

Acting quickly, he reached up and snatched away the pillow he knew would be used as a weapon and tossed it across the room. It hit the wall with a soft thud, sliding down to land on the floor. He then grabbed the hand that pushed against his shoulder, pushing it down to the cushions and straddling the one before him. He worked on pure instinct, until he sat hovering above Lovino, looking down to him. And that was when he froze.

As soon as their eyes met, Antonio's breath caught in his throat. Lovino's cheeks were flushed. His hand was extended above him, where Antonio had kept his wrist pinned to the couch's arm. Hot air escaped from slightly parted lips, chest rising and falling in time with the elated breaths. But after a moment, they stilled abruptly, eyes widening and mouth gaping.

But he did not look away, nor did he tug at the hand holding his wrist. He merely just laid there, emotions swirling together in his eyes. Antonio could not pick them out, for he was too entranced in the way Lovino's skin glistened with a thin layer of sweat - all thanks to their playful endeavors. He wanted to lean down and capture those lips that quivered ever so slightly, wanted to press gentle kisses to the rounded cheeks and sharp brows. He wanted to brush away soft locks. He was driven crazy by the simple sight of Lovino below him - of Lovino not fighting him, but rather, staring directly at him in return.

His body acted upon its own accord. He could feel his muscles tense up in preparation for moving forward, but alas, they stopped as soon as Lovino glanced away. He decided instead to take it a different route. He smiled with amusement down at the one below him. "You're not fighting me?" It was caught between a question and a simple observation. Antonio himself did not know which one he had meant to speak it as.

Lovino snorted, giving a roll of his eyes. His brow raised as he looked back to Antonio. Confidence radiated from his expression and reflected in his eyes. "You won't do anything," he retorted.

Antonio hummed in speculation. The amusement tugged all the more at his lips, dancing in his eyes. "I won't, will I?" he challenged.

Lovino narrowed his eyes skeptically, but Antonio did not give him a chance to speak. He proved his point by lowering himself - and it was not slowly, either. No, he let his arm give out entirely and landed directly on Lovino, earning a small 'oof' from the Italian below. He merely gave a grin in response, but no words to accompany it. He removed his hand, folding it below his chin on Lovino's chest as to not hurt him.

The Italian groaned in annoyance and shifted under the weight, but did not push against him. His head tilted back and he pressed it more into the fabric. "Get your fat ass off me, damnit," he groaned.

"Nope. Say it nicer, and maybe I will." Though he already had plans not to. No, this was actually rather comfortable, his legs tangled with Lovino's. The Italian's body seemed to fit perfectly against his own. It left him feeling rather satisfied with their current position - even if it meant that nearly all his weight was pressed against Lovino.

Lovino was silent for a moment before correcting himself, "Get your nice ass off me?"

The comment genuinely surprised him. Never in his life did he expect to hear such words fall from Lovino's lips. He stared, dumbfounded. A wide grin spread across his lips. "You think I have a nice butt?"

Lovino's eyes widened, his mouth gaping only slightly. He glanced to Antonio, then across to the coffee table, then groaned and let his head hit the couch again. A blush crept up to his cheeks, and Antonio could feel the Italian's heartbeat quicken beneath his palm. "Shut the fuck up. I didn't say that."

Antonio laughed. "But I just heard you!"

The cheeks only darkened in colour. "Damnit, shut up already! Will you please get off?!"

So maybe those were the exact words he was looking for. But was he going to? Of course not. He laughed breathlessly and tilted his head, letting it rest on Lovino's chest as he moved his hand out of the way. He let it fall beside Lovino, holding him in a sort of half-hug. "Nope," he answered proudly, much to the irritation of the one below him. Yet, Lovino did not struggle. Rather, while he did groan, he only lazily wrapped his arms around the Spaniard, interlocking his fingers on his back.

It was nice. To actually just lie there... Antonio let his eyes slide closed, humming in approval. He listened to the erratic beating of Lovino's heart, finding that his ear was pressed against it without his knowledge. He could hear the lungs expand and contract in uneven, forced breaths, feel the way Lovino fidgeted with his fingers behind him. Everything was so curious, yet so calming, and frankly, he did not want to move in the slightest.

"Why'd you do that, anyway?" The voice was gentle, and Antonio could hear the echo of the rumble in Lovino's chest. It was fascinating, in its own way.

Antonio's eyes flicked up. "Hm?"

"Y'know... Why'd you..." Lovino sighed, exasperated, "start that fight."

"To be fair, you started it. I just went along with it."

"... Whatever..." Lovino picked at the hoodie he had given Antonio. "Just answer the damn question."

Antonio pursed his lips. He hadn't thought about it; he just saw it as fun. He shrugged loosely, letting his eyes slide closed once more. "I don't know," he admitted. It probably wasn't the best answer, and most certainly wasn't what Lovino was looking for, but it was the best he could think of. "But you know... It does prove something," he added on after a short moment of silence. The silence that followed was his indication to continue. "You are human. You laugh and have fun. It doesn't matter what you've done, who you were in the past. What matters is here and now. The past is the past, the present is the present, and the future..." He paused. "That's yet to be seen."

There was no answer. Not a verbal one, at least. There was simply a gentle squeeze, in which he returned in his own fashion. Once again, the silence fell upon them, save for the gentle music in the background. A female's vocals could be heard, accompanied by a more modern and soothing song. Something about Alice, though Antonio cared not to listen. He focused on the rhythm against his ear, the steady beating of the heart.

It had been so long since he had done anything remotely close to this. And even when he did, all those years ago, it was nothing like this. It was not so calming, not so quiet. He breathed in deeply and slowly let it out, allowing for his muscles to relax. The hands on his back slowly pulled away from each other and began to trace along the curves of his back, ever so lightly running across it and smoothing out the folds of the hoodie. They explored his back, and he did not want them to stop.

Lovino's scent surrounded him, from the clothes he wore to the body he lay upon. He could feel his warmth enveloping him, feel the slow caress of curious hands. The world around them was nothing. In this world, there was him, and there was Lovino. The gentle light coming from the lamps did not bother him in the least, for he did not notice their glow; there was only the glow from the soft fire Lovino provided. Lovino was indeed a flame, warm and bright, Antonio concluded. No one would ever change that way of thinking. He had already compared him as such on so many occasions; it would no doubt be something he would always compare him to. For a fire such as this never burned out.

Antonio let a soft hum vibrate from his chest, caught between a chuckle and hum of questioning. It was returned with a questioning hum from Lovino, whose heart had steadied, Antonio realized. A hand carefully traced up his back and weaved into his hair, lightly tugging at the strands as it swept through; not once, not twice, but multiple times, fingertips massaging at the scalp. "It's been a while," the Spaniard finally murmured.

The silence that followed, Antonio had thought was due to the Italian not hearing his words. But after the gentle nudge for him to continue, the subtle shifting of the body beneath him, he found that Lovino was merely waiting for him to continue. "I used to have this girl... A long time ago..." he admitted. "We would lie like this sometimes." At those words, the hand stopped moving, the breath hitching. The heartbeat quickened, but then a slow breath calmed it. "She was... everything... back then..."

Where had all his strength gone? His joy, his smile? He could feel the ache in his heart, feel the fear begin to clutch at the tightening muscle. He breathed out a sigh and began rubbing his forefinger as a calming tactic. "She was kind, and sweet. But she was... strange and so... eccentric. But it was all in a good way. Everyone liked her. I fell in love with her." He didn't even know why he was speaking of this all of a sudden, what had come over him to speak of such things. Others knew the story, but to tell it, so far after it had happened... It was strange to him.

The hand continued to venture across his back, lightly rubbing between his shoulders. While it did not go ignored, he did not voice his opinions on it, either. "But I hurt her..." His voice was quieter now, barely even a whisper. He could feel the hand falter, but it picked up its wanderings once again. Fingertips just barely tickled against his shoulder blade, before the palm pressed against him once again. "I hurt her... so much..."

Lovino's voice, soft as it was, startled him. "You regret it..."

Antonio's eyes opened, and they flicked up to Lovino momentarily. Slowly, he nodded, letting his gaze venture to the coffee table just across from him. "I do..." he admitted, "I don't love her anymore, but... She didn't deserve that. Nobody does..."

"What... happened...?" The voice was hesitant, timid to speak that simple question. But oh, it was not simple... not in the least.

The Spaniard breathed out a sigh, eyes closing. "Everyone has regrets," he echoed. It was a conversation from before, he knew, but it was relevant. "I was in... a really bad spot... I cheated, I stole, I did... so many things. I hurt her..." A gentle squeeze pulled him away from his thoughts, then it grew stronger, more definite. He shifted against Lovino, but did not lift his head. "My friends... Francis and Gilbert... They know all about it. They were there through it all. They snapped me out of it. But... it was too late..." He paused for only a brief moment before he continued, "That fight, y'know. That I was talking about. It was about her. Francis and Gilbert are... trying to protect me, I guess, from doing something I'd regret."

He could feel Lovino shift beneath him, a simple raising of the head before it fell again. But there was no verbal answer to be heard. And so, he continued. "It's happening again... Not... Not me hurting someone. So it's not that..." Though, he was sure that he would. He could feel his heartbeat quicken, and if he wasn't mistaken, he could hear Lovino's pick up in speed. He swallowed thickly, his fingers trembling slightly. Why was he even coming out with this...? His rational mind told him it was stupid. But... He had to. "I'm falling again... I'm falling hard, and I can't stop it..."

The rising and falling of Lovino's chest ceased, and Antonio could've sworn he heard the heart skip a beat before continuing again. The Italian let out a shaky breath, the warm air rustling Antonio's hair. The hands had stilled right where they lay; one on his head, and another on his back. "I told them, and they... weren't happy... because I hurt her, and hurt myself by doing it..."

For a moment, Lovino was silent, just as he had been through the whole thing. But this time, he did not remain as such. The breathing steadied and quietly, a question left his lips, "But if you were given another chance... with this... person you've come to like... A chance to prove yourself..." He spoke carefully, with a slight edge to his tone.

Antonio's shoulders stiffened, his eyes widening. No. No, this couldn't be. Did Lovino know-? He supposed he hadn't hid it, hadn't tried to. There was too much against him. But to have it out there in the open... Hesitantly, he glanced toward the one he lay atop. Lovino refused to meet his gaze.

"You wouldn't mess it up again. Would you." The tone was flat. There was no indication of a question. It was something that only had one answer - at least in Antonio's mind.

Oh, but he was left speechless. It was true. He would not mess it up again. If he was given such a chance, he would try his hardest to never do such a thing again. He swallowed hard, and his lips tugged up in a smile. The thought of trying again, with Lovino by his side... It warmed his heart. "No... Never. If I was given another try..." He laughed, almost breathless. "I'd treat them like they should be treated. I'd never, ever hurt someone like that again... Nobody... Nobody deserves that..."

Lovino breathed out, his chest falling, and thus Antonio's head falling with it. His breathing steadied entirely, though his heart had not. He fidgeted with the locks of hair, and with the hoodie's fabric. "That's... That's... good..." he murmured. He swallowed and continued, "I know that if I were... ever with someone... I'd want to be treated right. If I wasn't... God..." He shifted under Antonio, twisting his head away from the Spaniard. "I've always been afraid of... getting hurt like that. People leaving and never comin' back, too... Why d'you think I'm always runnin' away all the damn time? I can't even make friends, let alone..." His voice trailed off, but he had already said enough; Antonio understood.

There was no denying it; Lovino knew. Antonio did not know what to think of that, how to feel. But, he had to make a statement. He was scared - terrified. He did not know if Lovino truly knew or not, but the carefully chosen words almost said too much. He pulled away from Lovino, not daring to meet his eyes. He sat up and carefully moved off of him, helping him up. His stomach twisted nervously, his limbs trembling violently. He wanted to run. He wanted to flee. He wanted to return to the hotel, fly to Germany, and never be seen again. But at the same time, he wanted to wrap Lovino up in his arms and whisper those three magical words.

He couldn't. He knew he wouldn't be able to. His eyes met Lovino's and he offered a smile. He reached behind his neck and, ignoring the look of confusion, undid the clasp hidden there. He pulled it up and over the hoodie's seam, turning it around in his hands so that it would face the correct way. Reaching forward, he did the clasp behind Lovino's neck. When he retracted his hands, the silver cross pendant fell against the Italian's neck.

Lovino looked down to the silver cross, picking it up in one hand. He frowned in confusion at it, eyebrows furrowing. "The fuck is this?"

The choice of wording was almost enough for Antonio to burst out laughing, right then and there. Somehow, he managed to keep it at a very light one, giving a smile when it died down. "To protect you. So you're never hurt," he answered.

Lovino snorted, letting the pendant fall to his chest once again. He looked to Antonio with skepticism. "You really think this'll work?" Despite his flat tone, there was a flicker of hope in his eyes. Perhaps it was the alcohol, perhaps it was Lovino himself. Whatever it was, it was there, and Antonio was going to use it.

He smiled in return and tapped the small pendant. "I've worn that thing since I was a kid, and it's got me this far."

"That doesn't say much."

This time, he did laugh, and in return, he earned a small smile from the one before him. "My point is, Lovi..." he spoke again, "If you trust in it, it'll protect you."

A silence fell over the two of them. Lovino looked to the small pendant, reaching up to touch it gently with his fingertips. After a small moment, he let his hand fall and stepped forward, wrapping his arms around Antonio. It was unsuspected, but not as surprising as before, and thus, the Spaniard moved to react faster than he would have. He returned the embrace without a moment's thought.

He felt the arms tighten around him, and he returned it by pressing his head against Lovino's and pulling him flush against him. He was right. Lovino fit perfectly against him. All thoughts scattered from his mind, all worries and arguments fled without a single trace. His world, once again, was just him and Lovino. And damnit, he was happy with just that. His world only grew all the brighter as he heard one whispered phrase. It was a simple phrase, but it was one that held so much meaning to Antonio.

"Grazie..."

He smiled widely and gave a light squeeze. "Of course," he whispered in return. He pulled away, but only just enough to look Lovino in the eye. His smile became more genuine as he lifted a hand to brush a stray lock away from the Italian's face. "I said I wouldn't mess it up again, wouldn't I?" Antonio watched as eyes widened a fraction, lips parting. The music was left entirely forgotten. The other's chest had stilled, and he could feel Lovino's heart beating wildly in his chest. He could not miss the way his cheeks reddened with colour, emotions swimming in his eyes. Fear, trust, worry, joy, astonishment...

Love.

He did not know who moved first. But when his lips met Lovino's, it was, for lack of a better word, magic. It was electrifying, and sent shivers up and down his spine. Lovino's lips were soft against his own. He could not breathe, not even a single breath, yet he could pick up the traces of alcohol, flowers, and the sea. He did not stop to think, simply just held Lovino closer. He was in eternal bliss. He felt that if he pulled away now, then all would cease to exist. Yet he felt that if he didn't, then he would collapse, right then and there. His knees were weak, his hands were shaking. He was struggling to breathe. Oh, but he felt that he never had to breathe again, so long as Lovino's lips stayed pressed to his own.

His heart beat wildly in his chest, in sync with Lovino's. He took the Italian's cheek in his hand and tilted his head, pressing into the kiss. He could feel Lovino's arms tighten around him, pulling him closer. Fingers curled into tight fists, grasping at the fabric of the hoodie. A soft, shaky sigh of relief and content escaped from Antonio's nostrils, at long last. Their lips moved together, yet neither dared to part, each too fearful to take it a step farther. It was gentle and sweet, Antonio realized. He had read so many romance novels, but he thought for sure that a kiss could never feel like this... But it did. It was real, and it was happening, at this very moment - with Lovino.

It was Lovino who parted his lips first, who took the first step by allowing his teeth to graze against Antonio's bottom lip. From there, Antonio could not control himself. He let his own lips part, his tongue slipping out to meet with Lovino's. It was an all-new feeling. His world didn't just brighten. It exploded with colour. He pressed into the kiss, deepening it. His hand traveled from the small of Lovino's back, to his waist, and traveled up slowly from there. He allowed it to freely roam, feeling the hands at his back pull him closer.

Lovino tasted like wine. That much was obvious. But along with that, there was a distinct taste that Antonio could only describe as, well, Lovino. He could not pinpoint what it was. It was intoxicating, it was wonderful, it was euphoric. Yet there was no word out there to describe the taste itself. He just knew that there was nothing else out there like it, and damnit, he wanted more of it. He could not part from it, even if he wanted to. And oh, he did not want to...

The kiss was gentle and sweet, but as it continued, Antonio found that it became more passionate, more heated. At first, he couldn't breathe, and now, he was nearly gasping for air, yet too intoxicated to take more time between kisses to catch up. But it was not what sent him over the edge.

No, it was the way Lovino moaned into the kiss. It was the way one hand knotted into his hair, the other pulling at his hip. It was the way Lovino pushed his own hips forward to meet with Antonio's. It was the way he lightly nipped at the Spaniard's tongue and pulled him in deeper. It was the way Lovino's thumb and forefinger slid between the fabric of Antonio's jeans and the soft curves of the skin stretched across his hip. It was the way Lovino's kiss showed desperation.

He had initially tried to hold himself back. But now, after the clear signs of wanting to take it a step forward, Antonio had thrown his restraint out the window and across the ocean. His hand slid down the Italian's sides and gripped at Lovino's hips, pulling him forward again and giving a moan of his own. The gasp coming from Lovino gave him time to break the kiss, pressing his lips against the other's jawline. He traveled to his neck, nipping gently and allowing his leg to slip between Lovino's.

He was lost entirely. It was difficult to keep himself standing with Lovino moving against him. For a moment, he considered pushing the Italian back down to the couch, but thought better of it. Even in this state, he knew that the couch just would not do; Lovino would certainly not appreciate that, if they did indeed go farther than this. And judging by how they were pressing against each other, there was no stopping them.

"Bed..."

He tugged at Lovino's thighs as his lips occupied Lovino's once again, guiding him up and onto his hips. It only took a moment for Lovino to catch on, and once he did, his ankles were quickly hooked at Antonio's back. He could not carry him all the way. No, of course not; he was not strong enough. He only managed to make it to the stairs before Lovino lost his grip. Antonio braced Lovino against the wall, lips leaving the Italian's so that they could instead suck lightly at the skin of his neck. Moans and gasps escaped from the both of them, neither of them even bothering to hide their lust.

As soon as the Italian's feet were on the ground, they were traveling again. It was slow going, but finally, they made it. Antonio struggled with the doorknob for a moment, pushing it open with a foot while Lovino worked at his neck. In the light of the moon, Antonio could just barely see the outline of the bed, his eyes not quite adjusted to the low light. Still, he guided Lovino over by pushing against him, though it seemed that Lovino did not need guiding. He, too, stepped toward the bed without leaving Antonio's heat.

Within moments, Lovino's back fell upon the sheets, Antonio hovering over him. They moved against one another, lips sloppily crashing together as hands clumsily rushed to remove the offending articles of clothing.

"Antonio..."

The sound of his name sent shivers down his spine, sent his mind spiraling out of control.

"Ti desidero..."

The translation was absolutely lost to him. He could only assume its meaning by the way it was whispered in his ear, accompanied by the gasps and moans flowing from Lovino's lips. And from there, he was absolutely lost to the world - he and Lovino both.