Thank you to those who gave me some feedback on the prologue, I really appreciate it! Here's a new chapter for you all. Hope you'll enjoy it!

oOo

Anyone who had met him and witnessed his general attitude when around people would have believed him to be some sort of lazy, half-hearted fool when it came to work. Most would assume that he would have a simple, easy-going job, like working shifts in a local supermarket or something similar. It just fit with his character, people would say, neither knowing nor caring if said character was only a mask.

No one would have believed it if someone told them that Lovino Vargas was really a serious workaholic, who practically lived in his office at work, and who worked overtime more often than not. And if he wasn't at work, he could usually be found in his study at home, a place where no one was allowed inside except Feliciano.

To the otherwise emotionally stressed-out Italian, there was a certain relaxation and sense of normalcy in the endless amounts of paper work, deadlines, phone calls, faxing and all the other stuff he did, about a thousand times a day. It wasn't a job he would have imagined settling with, and he wasn't even sure he liked the work in itself. In fact, when he was just a kid, he had entertained the idea of one day owning a small farm of his own, with a vegetable garden and some animals, simply enjoying the varying and challenging outdoor-work. That old dream seemed to have been killed at one point, just like any other dreams he might have had.

Ever since their grandfather, whom they had lived with after their parents died, passed away some years ago, it had been up to Lovino, as the eldest, to take care of his brother. He'd changed jobs several times, but had finally got a foot inside this stiff business-place, working under a boss who made an effort to notice and respect his workers, but otherwise didn't really have much direct contact with any of them. Lovino had been acknowledged for his hard work, and thus had been having more to do with the boss than most workers, by being promoted and moving upwards in the company. It definitely meant more work, but that suited him just fine, and it gave quite a decent income as well.

All in all, it was exactly the thing he needed to escape from his inner turmoil and distract his thoughts from the issues he had with the world and people in general. He had made a point of separating his work from his next-to-pathetic social life ever since he started working here. And so, no one that "knew" him from personal settings was aware that he worked here at this place. Likewise, no one that he worked with here, knew anything about his personal life. It was perfect.

The fact that he had his own office and could bury himself in work without being constantly interrupted was a welcome relief, and even though his efforts at work took its toll on his health, he relied on it to get by without going crazy.

Yawning widely, he stretched his arms into the air, body tense after writing non-stop on an article for hours. Glancing at the clock on the computer, he realized that it was way past his work time. One of the quirks of having his own office was that he didn't notice when others began leaving for home, to make dinner for their family, go out with friends, or whatever they did with their spare time.

Breathing out a small sigh, he leaned back in his chair, absentmindedly observing the way the late afternoon sun cast a warm hue on the neighbouring buildings that he could see from his window. Standing from his chair, he winced at his complaining muscles, but paid it little mind as he finished up for the day. Shrugging on his jacket and grabbing his bag, he left the office silently, locking up as he was the last to leave – as usual.

Getting out on the calm street, he didn't feel like going home right away, instead opting to walk around for a bit. The late August air was rather warm, but there was a chill in the air that reminded him that autumn was creeping closer, bringing along longer nights, colder weather and annoying bouts of depression. He despised the darker half of the year.

There weren't a lot of people outside, and he soon realized why as droplets of rain began to make their way from the suddenly cloudy skies. Either those clouds appeared very quickly, or he'd been walking around, lost in his thoughts, for longer than he'd thought. Growling quietly as the rain picked up strength, to become a violent shower, he quickened his pace, taking shelter in the first open store that appeared.

He could feel his hair sticking uncomfortably to the skin on his face, thoroughly soaked just from the few moments before he could escape into what turned out to be a flower shop. The result was that some strands began to curl slightly. Great, just great. Usually, he managed to control the way his hair would curl in random directions, the only exception being one persistent curl that just refused to stay put. He could have glued the damn thing to his scalp, and it would still find a way to pop up and ruin his efforts.

"Wow, last time I checked it was just a bit cloudy, and now it's raining dogs and cats out there!" The energetic voice startled him, and he jumped a little, nearly knocking over a large glass bin of sunflowers. Scrambling to steady it, he turned and glared – unintentionally – at the owner of the voice.

The man blinked, a strange expression crossing his eyes for a fleeting moment, vanishing as his face lit up into a bright smile. "Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you."

"You didn't scare me, just... surprised me." Lovino automatically growled, glaring at the sunflowers too, as soon as he finally managed to steady them again. He couldn't quite decide which was more blinding – the sunflowers or the man's smile.

"Right. Sorry anyway."

Lovino didn't reply, making a point of facing away from the guy, waiting impatiently for the rain to stop, while feeling terribly self-conscious. Small talk and casual meetings with people had never been his thing. The few times he'd made attempts at it, it always seemed to turn into a disaster. If possible, he kept people at a distance. It was safer that way; less chance of them finding out what a walking nightmare he really was.

The silence was getting more awkward by the second, but the rain made no sign of stopping anytime soon. Somehow, it felt as if the weather was doing this on purpose, just to make him as uncomfortable as he could possibly get. Shifting his weight from one leg to the other, he let out a nervous sigh. Was the Spaniard – judging by his accent – still standing there behind the counter, looking at him...? No, he didn't want to turn around to find out.

A towel suddenly landed on his head, and he gave a small yelp of surprise, whirling around. This time he was unable to steady the sunflowers, as the bin fell over, crashing to the floor.

"Fuck!" he wasn't sure whether he was cursing at the stupid flower bin or the Spaniard who was now apologizing profusely for startling him yet again. Bending down, he began gathering the flowers, before he really had the chance to think about what he was doing.

"Ah, it's ok, don't worry about it!" the man said, also crouching down to help him pick up the flowers. Lovino caught sight of the man's hands, noticing that he had a worker's hands, calloused and rough, yet gentle as they gathered up the plants on the floor. As it turned out, getting distracted from the task at hand was a bad idea, and he hissed as one of the larger glass shards cut a solid line across the side of his hand. Immediately, blood was dripping down his fingers and onto the flower stems.

He stared at the steady trail of red escaping down his pale skin, and the tingling sensation it provoked. Barely aware that his hands began quivering, he gave a small moan as he grew dizzy, not because the cut was deep but because blood was something that really didn't sit well with him. The red liquid just reminded him too much of their parents' death. Feliciano had been too young at the time to remember, but Lovino could still picture their broken, bloody bodies as clearly as if the image was glued to his eyelids. One crushed in the driver's seat, and one on the road, covered in pieces of glass...

"Oh, Thank God you finally woke up!"

He blinked, realizing after a moment of confusion that he was looking up into a pair of startling green eyes, practically shimmering with worry as they looked down at him. Wait... down at him? With a start, he realized he was lying on a couch, his hand already bandaged up. So he had passed out?

Groaning, he let his eyes slip shut again, embarrassment making blood flow into his face, and heating up his cheeks. Unfortunately, the already concerned florist seemed to mistake the groan for one of pain or discomfort.

"A-are you feeling ok? Does it hurt? Do you need to go to the hospital? I can-"

"Shut up, will you? I'm fucking fine!" Sitting up quickly, to prove his point, he pushed back the dizzy spell that overwhelmed him for a moment. The stranger's intense gaze only served to make him feel nervous, and he began looking around the room as a way to keep his own eyes from locking in an angry glare at his own shoes. He quickly concluded that they were in the back room of the shop, which seemed to double as a work shop, with half-made flower bouquets and various tools lining all the benches and tables in sight except for the small coffee table next to the couch. Instead of flowers, this table held a tray of biscuits, a half-empty cup of coffee and a bunch of blank flower cards – for some reason or the other.

"Oh, that's good," the Spaniard's analyzing look relaxed into a smile as he heaved a relieved sigh. "God, you had me scared when you went all white and just collapsed like that. I thought you were dying from blood loss or something!"

Lovino's attitude faltered for a moment at this, his expression slipping into one of mild surprise before he could help it. Most people tended to dislike him from the very first moment he opened his mouth to speak – which wasn't all that hard to understand, seeing as his first words tended to be either an offensive grunt or a string of profanities. But this guy didn't seem to care that Lovino had just snapped and cursed at him, even when it was obvious he'd taken good care of him while he was unconscious. It was quite unnerving, really.

"I'll pay for the flower bin." Letting his usual cold mask fall back in place, Lovino stood from the couch, marching briskly out into the store again without meeting the other's eyes.

"Ah, don't worry about that," the man began, but Lovino had already fished out his wallet, glaring at him and daring him to protest any further. The glare faltered slightly as he really got a look at the other for the first time. Even when dressed in an apron, he was by no means unattractive, with sun-tanned skin and brown, wavy hair. Somehow, though, Lovino thought that this guy would have come across as attractive even if his face hadn't been as handsome as it was, due to his open and warm expression. He couldn't help but feel a slight hint of envy at the easy smile that seemed to play in those forest-coloured eyes. This fellow made smiling look so easy...

"How much?" He quickly looked away with a frown, irritated at his own thoughts.

"Buy a flower instead!"

This caught him by surprise, and he blinked, raising an eyebrow as he looked back up at the guy. Was he being serious? There was no trace of joke in his expression, so apparently he was. Giving an annoyed huff, Lovino grabbed a random flower from another bin, wishing that he could just pay for the damn thing and be on his way. It wasn't until the flower rested innocently on the counter that he noticed that it was a rose. A deep red rose. Great. An embarrassed blush touched his cheeks again, but he ignored it, putting on an indifferent expression as the Spaniard smiled, wrapping it up before telling him the price.

He paid as quickly as he could, grabbing the stupid flower before marching towards the entrance of the store. Thankfully, the rain had come to a halt, and he wouldn't have to get soaked again. Not that it really mattered; he was eager enough to leave by now that he would have gone even if there was a tornado sweeping by outside.

"Wait... What's your name?" the question made him pause by the door, but he didn't turn around. Opening his mouth to reply, he caught himself just in time.

"I'm sorry for the inconvenience," he instead bit out, leaving before the man could say anything else. As the door shut behind him, a pained expression touched his face. It was best this way, keeping everyone else at a distance. Yes, it was for the best. He repeated this to himself, as he caught a taxi back to his and Feliciano's house, ignoring the annoying loneliness, which rested as a painful lump deep in his throat.

oOo

"Fratello! What happened to your hand?" Feliciano was at his side almost the moment he shut the door behind him, flinging himself around Lovino's neck, in typical Feliciano-fashion. The cheerful young man had always had an above-average craving for physical and emotional contact, something Lovino would probably never be able to relate to. Feliciano, however, seemed to assume that anyone and everyone would enjoy physical contact as much as he did – a trait that could lead to some awkward situations at times.

"Nothing. Just a minor cut," Lovino grumbled mildly, uncomfortable under the other's honey-coloured, concerned gaze. The cut really wasn't that big a deal, but getting unnecessarily worried about those he cared about was yet another of his brother's many quirks and character traits.

The younger Italian relaxed his worried posture, and smiled brightly. "I made dinner a while ago, I'll warm it up for you!"

"I can do it mys-"

"No, your clothes are soaked through, let me do it while you change! I don't want you catching a cold." And with those words, he ran off to the kitchen before Lovino could voice any further complaint, and he merely sighed softly, heading upstairs to his room. He really was soaked. The rain had picked up again by the time the taxi arrived, and just the short run up the walkway through the garden was enough to make his clothes and hair drip once again.

Shrugging of the wet clothing, he found some more casual everyday wear to put on. Stopping by the bathroom, he found a towel, drying his hair hurriedly before frowning at himself in the mirror. It was now curling and falling messily into his face. Oh well, whatever.

"Stupid curls..." he grumbled as he moved to head back down to enjoy a warm meal. He'd reached the staircase when he suddenly remembered the rose. He was tempted to just let it rot where he'd discarded it on his bed-side table, but as it turned out he didn't have the heart to do it. The flower had done nothing wrong after all, even if it wasn't something he'd wanted to buy. Fetching a vase and removing the plastic flower already inhabiting it, he filled it with water from the bathroom sink and put the rose in it before placing it back on the table. It looked better than the dusty plastic flower anyway, so at least it wasn't a complete waste of money.

Taking the wrapping to toss it away, he blinked as a small flower card fell out onto the bed. It was the same type as the ones that had littered the coffee table back at the store. Picking it up, out of curiosity, he stared at it as if it was something foreign. A simple phone number, scrawled in a hurry, but still in a fairly neat handwriting, adorned the note. Along with a few words, which made his heart abruptly jump into his throat.

I'd like to see you again.

-Antonio

Shit. Shit, shit, shit. Lovino couldn't think, couldn't react in any other way than stand there numbly, staring at the note with wide, fearful eyes. Feliciano eventually broke the trance by calling his name, and he snapped out of it, swallowing the lump of conflicting emotions in his throat and glaring at the note as if it had done him personal harm.

Why? Why would that cheerful florist want to see him again? They had hardly spoken! He hadn't even told the guy his name, for crying out loud, and he wanted to see him again. It defied any and all logic... and it scared Lovino senseless. Crumpling the card in his shaking palm, he dropped it on the bed, whirling around and heading downstairs, trying his best to act indifferent. Trying his best to act as if the tiny note hadn't washed up an old sense of panic-like suspicion that he'd managed to bury in the back of his consciousness for quite some time now.

It didn't seem to work much, and after Feliciano asked him for the hundredth time if he was all right, and he answered with an unintentionally angry grunt – whilst stabbing forcefully at his spaghetti with the fork –, he was thankfully left in peace.

Damn that fucking Spanish florist, coming in and disturbing his world with that goofy smile and that pleasant personality of his. If the guy had known what was best for them both, he would have just let Lovino pay for the damn vase and leave.

Anger rapidly began fading to depression, as he poked at his food. This unsettling feeling was far from unfamiliar to him, but that didn't make it any easier to cope with. Before he knew it, he'd gone from cursing the florist, to cursing himself. And as soon as he did that, he threw the food away, put the dishes in the sink and marched upstairs to push the thoughts away in one of the only ways he knew how; work until he grew tired enough to fall asleep.

Alas, he went without sleeping that night...

For three days, he kept up this routine of working ridiculously long days, heading home just to eat a quick meal and lock himself up in his study again. It was beginning to show, and each time he happened to catch his reflection in a mirror, he almost startled himself. More than one of his co-workers had questioned his well-being, and at home Feliciano was constantly nagging at him. It made him feel bad.

Still, the guilt couldn't quite replace the rock that seemed to have settled in his chest ever since he read that card. He wished he could understand why this stupid thing unsettled him so damn much. Perhaps he was just more emotionally unstable than he had first thought. Of course, he could just throw the card away, and should be able to forget about the whole thing. But no, it had to torment him from its whereabouts on his bedside table, as if it was cursed or something. No matter how hard he tried to throw it away, he just ended up standing there, unable to let go of it, for some reason.

It was on the fourth day, after sitting and staring at the crumpled card for at least an hour, that he decided to do something about it. Picking it up in one furious motion, he fished out his cell phone and dialled the number with a trembling finger. Pushing the call button, his heart jumped up to lodge itself in his throat.

There was no reason to be nervous, he murmured at himself. He was just going to call the guy, tell him to stay away, and-

"Hola!"

Shit...! His voice couldn't get past the lump in his throat, and he felt frozen. Even on the phone, you could practically feel the guy's cheerful spirit. It made him incredibly anxious, and all the words that he had carefully planned out seemed to fade into nothing.

"Hello...?"

"Hi."

Great going. Hi? What the hell was that? He could have kicked himself if the other didn't speak again before he had the chance to.

"Um... it's you, right? The guy from the flower shop the other day?" Why the hell did he sound so happy upon recognizing his voice? No, scratch that, why did he even recognize it in the first place? He'd hardly spoken when he was there!

"Yeah. It's me."

"Great! Uh, I mean... I was worried you didn't find the card!"

"Well, obviously I did."

"I'm happy you called!" Lovino blinked, not knowing how to respond to that. Thankfully, the other didn't wait for a response before continuing. "I wasn't sure if I went a bit too far by sending that card with the flower, I mean... you probably found it stupid, huh? I do the most ridiculous things at times!" He laughed, and Lovino couldn't help but find it a pleasant sound, and sort of- No, it definitely was not cute! It was deep and manly and... fucking adorable. Seriously, how could a man sound that sweet and innocent? It was unnatural.

"So, yeah, I was just wondering if you'd... want to go see a movie or something?"

Lovino spluttered, cut off from his disturbing thoughts by that sentence. "W-why would I want to go to a movie, you bastard? I don't know you, you certainly don't know me, and... God, I don't even know why I called you in the first place..."

There was a silence, and then the laughter sounded again. "You're right, we don't know each other."

"Stop laughing at me, you jerk!"

"Sorry, sorry, you just sounded so cute!"

"And don't call me cute, I'm not cute! Why the hell are we even having this conversation!" his voice had started rising an octave, just like it did whenever he was flustered or angry. Or both.

"Because I gave you that note?"

"It was a fucking rhetorical question!"

"Okay, if you say so."

A silence fell over them, and Lovino was now stomping himself on the toe with the heel of his other foot, trying desperately to calm down so he wouldn't make an even bigger fool out of himself than he already had.

"So... what do you say?" Antonio – officially dubbed 'bastard', or 'damn Spaniard' in Lovino's mind – asked again after a while, catching him off guard. It seemed this guy did that a lot; Lovino was completely unable to predict his next words or actions at all. Thus, he was left looking pretty much like a question mark, something that was evident in his pathetic response.

"Huh?"

"Do you want to see me again? If you don't want to, that's ok, though... You probably think it would be stupid or something, having barely met me and–"

Ok, now was the time. He just had to say the words he had planned so carefully and putting an end to all his stupid worries. Yeah, he could do that! Deep breath, now...

"Sure..."

"Really?"

Oh God, had he just agreed to it? Gritting his teeth together, he cleared his throat. "Just because you sounded like you were going to cry or something. It's not like I care either way!"

"That's great!" Ok, there had to be something wrong with that guy. He seemed to be deaf to the fact that Lovino was constantly either cursing at him or offending him in some way or the other. Honestly, Lovino wasn't sure whether he should be relieved or suspicious. "So... are you free tomorrow? I haven't really lived here very long, but I do know where the cinema is. Does seven o'clock sound good to you?"

"S-sure..."

Just what the hell was he getting himself into? That was the one thought that rang through his mind over and over. Was this like... a date? No, it was just two guys meeting. Wasn't it? The only problem was that, no matter how he twisted and turned the facts, this certainly sounded a fucking lot like a date to him.

"Great! Oh, jeez, listen to me – here we've been talking for a long time, and I haven't introduced myself properly... I'm Antonio Fernandez Carriedo! May I know your name, Mr. Mystery man?"

Lovino swallowed, lips moving for a moment without a sound until he managed to utter his own name. "Lovino. Lovino Vargas." There. Now, there was no turning back.

"I'm really looking forward to meeting you again, Lovino!" he could practically hear the smile in Antonio's voice, as they said good bye and hung up.

Putting the phone calmly down on the bed side table next to the rose – which had started to look a bit miserable; tilting heavily to the right, and starting to lose its petals –, he took a deep breath. Grabbing the nearest pillow, he forcefully held it against his now suspiciously warm face, so that it would muffle the frustrated cry he let out before falling back on the bed, pillow still covering his face.

"You, Lovino Vargas, are an idiot..." he groaned to himself. "A really, really big one..."

oOo

Thank you for reading! If you could give me some feedback telling me what you think so far, that would be awesome, and would also motivate me to post more~ ^^ If I get some good reviews, I'm hoping to post a new chapter every week!

Fratello – Brother (Italian)

Hola – Hello (Spanish)