A/N: This is honestly my most successful fanfiction so far. So I thank all those who added to their favorites/alerts and especially the reviewers. You all deserve a cookie but sadly, I can't give you one. Maybe a bonus chapter or an early update, but no cookies :(
Special thanks to Kinochu, first reviewer on this story. You actually helped me get the storyline to make sense because of the memory pill comment. It didn't make sense that Lovi forgot things and remembered others, so thanks for pointing that out. Also thanks to Reckless Angels for turning me into a Spamano shipper.
Cookies for everyone,
K.J. Whatsername (K.J. sounds more professional than Killjoy...*insert facepalm here*)
P.S. This chapter is short, but there's a bonus chapter coming up.
No matter what he did, it was always there. The song lingered in his ears, it followed him everywhere he went. It followed him home, and followed him in his sleep. Lovino was absolutely clueless about why that song stuck in his memory like Feliciano's hands together that one time he tried to fix Ludwig's cuckoo clock with superglue. What Lovino didn't understand was the fact that he knew the song, but he never remembered the name of that guitarist.
Chapter Two: Romanza
-(Italian word for) Romance-
Lovino could recall the beautiful melody and every foreign word that formed its name. And although name of the musician at the party slipped his mind, he precisely knew how his face looked like. Lovino finally saw that face in a long awaited second encounter, about only a couple hours after he got home. Antonio was sitting beside him on the front pew in the vast church. Like the last time Lovino saw him, he was playing exactly the same tune on his guitar. But this time, they were both clad in black. Before them was a short coffin between wreaths with a sash that read "In Memory of Nothing."
Lovino wondered why Antonio was playing that song in a funeral, of all places. Then again, "In Memory of Nothing" was written on the sash. Lovino thought it was ridiculous that the funeral had no mourners other than the two of them, and he didn't know what he was doing there either. He stood up and peeked inside the coffin to discover a giant tomato inside, rather than a loved one's remains. Lovino ignored his confusion and the absurdity of the situation and proceeded to take advantage of his opportunity.
He knew his face, but not his name, so he wondered what it was again.
"They mentioned your name before you played, but I can't remember it," Lovino said one more time after he walked up to Antonio.
"Me?" Lovino had a moment of déjà vu, "My name is-"
Antonio got cut off by an instant pull back to reality. Of course, it was a dream. Lovino figured that out after he saw the giant tomato. He only bothered to ask for his name because his subconcience might remember, but he had no luck. It was two in the morning in Rome, where he lived. Lovino did not waste his time trying to fall back asleep. He rubbed his eyes, crawled out of bed, and had once again made a discovery after fixing his white sheets. Right on the spot where his pillow was, and on the pillowcase itself, he found a red stain that came from a squashed tomato. The tomato that Antonio gave him.
Antonio. He could never recall that name, yet he memorized every note of the song.
"Romance Anónimo," he whispered.
Something about that song made Lovino's mind drift away. It made him forget, it made him space out, and it made him think that sleeping with a tomato under his pillow was a good idea. None of those were his intentions, all he wanted was to remember. Would that man always be the prince with emerald eyes, the guitarist with golden fingers, or some other poetic and cheesy name?
Lovino's thoughts were going in chaos. It almost made him pull his hair off. Then he loudly blurted "Tomato-bastard!"
The answer was none of the above. To Lovino, he was Tomato-bastard, but in the inside, Lovino longed to meet him once again.