"Fratello, have you watched the news recently?" came Feliciano's voice.

"Nope," replied his brother, not even raising his head from his book. "Why?"

"Well remember you told me Antonio worked in Spain? I hear stuff is getting pretty bad there, for the whole country," he said seriously.

"I'm sure he's fine, he's actually pretty rich," came Lovino's half-hearted reply. The other half of him was fully engrossed in his book. Man, it was a damn good book.

"I just hope he's okay, right?"

"Mm."

-x-

Antonio's house was a home away from home for Lovino. He'd spend as much time at the Spaniard's house these days as he did his own. He couldn't help it; he just felt more relaxed while in Antonio's company.

Antonio didn't mind in the slightest; in fact, he found the Italian boy rather cute. He found it amusing how he would always blush and call him names when he got embarrassed. He shot bright red, just like a tomato. And Antonio loved tomatoes.

"Look Lovi, you're putting your hand on this string wrong again! It needs to be more this way, or it'll be flat!" scolded Antonio, moving Lovino's fingers again, to the right location.

Lovino felt himself tinge pink. He was suddenly aware – very aware, that both his and the Spaniard's hands were touching. Call him immature, but he jerked them away quickly, and turned his head before Antonio could make any sort of tomato-based comment.

"S-shut up, dammit, I could've figured that out myself!" he snapped. He clamped his mouth shut, realizing that he'd once again, yelled at Antonio for merely correcting his mistakes.

"A-are you alright, Lovi? You're going red," came Antonio's concerned voice. Lovino insisted he was fine, but Antonio had a hard time believing him. He brushed the Italian's hair away from his face, and lifted his palm to Lovino's forehead. "You don't seem to have a fever…"

"I-I said I'm fine!" shouted Lovino, jerking himself away from the Spaniard's touch. He was starting to feel extremely embarrassed.

"Alright… if you say so," smiled Antonio. Lovino looked away. He hated himself for yelling at the Spaniard, all he was doing was being kind, like he always was. But why did he have to look so handsome as he did it? Wait, what did he just think? These thoughts were all Feliciano's fault, dammit, forever droning on and on about how Lovino spent so much time at Antonio's and that they might be 'up to something.'

He was brought back to reality by Antonio's voice. "Hey Lovino, can I ask you a question?"

"Shoot."

"What do you think of me?" he asked, running a hand through his hair.

Lovino stared for a bit, before actually realizing what he'd been asked. "W-w-what the hell? What kind of a question is that?" he asked, clearly surprised.

"Well you don't have to answer if you don't want to," said Antonio, although Lovino could tell he had a sad hint behind that statement.

He sighed, before answering quietly. "Y-you're… uh, really nice. You never get mad at me and.. yeah."

There was a brief pause, and Antonio contemplated what the Italian had just told him. "I see. What would you do if I were to hug you?"

Lovino's mind was swirling. Just why was Antonio asking this? "N-no comment," he said shortly, refusing to look the Spaniard in the eyes.

"What if I kissed you?"

Lovino could feel his heart hammering in his chest. He felt himself blushing deeper and deeper shades of red. "W-What the heck? Why are you asking this!" he cried, desperately wanting to change the subject.

Antonio laughed softly. "Don't worry about it, I'm just messing with you," he smiled, before getting up to get a drink.

Lovino's eyes fell on Antonio. 'That's the problem,' a voice in his head told him. He bit his lip and looked away. No way would he ever tell Antonio that he secretly found him mildly attractive. Nope, never. He pushed the thoughts out of his head, and swore he'd never let them out.

He decided to calm himself down by playing the guitar. Now he absolutely loved the instrument, and would play it any second he could. He closed his eyes, letting his fingers run delicately over the strings, taking their places at the right spots and each sound complimenting the next. The plectrum gripped tightly between fingers, their movements like an impulse…

Music has become a whole other world for Lovino.

A loud, screeching noise filled the air, and Lovino jumped in shock. His music wasn't that shitty, was it? He calmed down when he realized that it was just his phone. He sighed, as he answered the phone.

"Fratello, fratello, I have something really important to tell you!" came his brother's frantic voice. Lovino frowned. Were they out of pasta? Feliciano continued on before Lovino had the chance to ask. "D-don't get mad please, fratello, but Ludwig decided to um.. er…" Felciano's voice became softer, almost to the point where Lovino couldn't hear him.

"What, what did he do dammit? Did he harass you? I knew it, that lead-sucking potato bastard-"

"No, nothing like that!" insisted Feliciano. "He… found this guy, his names Kiku and… he thought that he was a good guitar player and…"

Feliciano stopped his sentence. "What? What'd he do?" asked Lovino impatiently.

He could hear his brother taking a deep breath in before going on. "He thinks Kiku is better than you and um.. he replaced you," he said quietly.

Lovino froze up completely, the pick falling out of his fingers, guitar slipping from his lap. "W-what?" was all he could say dumbly.

Feliciano sighed. "I-I'm sorry fratello, he said it's the best thing and he wouldn't change his mind!" cried the younger Italian, in hopes of making the situation any better.

Of course those attempts were futile, Lovino was currently in a state of shock. That feeling where you'd just lost something really important to you. Although he'd never admit it to anyone, he'd actually been looking forward to playing with his brother more than anything else. They didn't exactly have a strong relationship, having grown up in separate households, and although he wasn't particularly friendly to his sibling, he still cared for him. He'd hoped this would have made them… more brotherly? Something like that.

"Whoa whoa whoa, what's up Lovi?" said Antonio worriedly, quickly scooping up the guitar from Lovino's lap before it fell on the floor. Lovino said nothing, instead just pressing the red button on his phone and ending the conversation, not caring about what else his brother had to say. He bit his lip, feeling really… let down. Antonio's noticed the difference in behavior, set the guitar in the case, and sat next to Lovino on the sofa. He sat there, waiting for the Italian's response to his previous question.

"F-Feliciano called," he said shortly, trying his best to keep his voice even. "They don't need me to play guitar anymore," he said quietly, looking away.

Antonio looked down. Ah, so this was it. He may be pretty dense, but seeing Lovino like this, he knew better than to ask any more than what he'd been told. So, he tried his hand at the comforting thing. "Lovi, it's alright if t-"

"It's alright? It's not fucking alright, dumbass!" he said suddenly, turning his head and staring at the Spaniard. "He fucking wrote me off! And my idiot of a brother probably didn't put up a half-decent argument! You wouldn't have a fucking clue how I'm feeling, so just shut the fuck up!" he yelled, before looking at the floor. He swallowed the lump in his throat. Again, he'd just yelled at Antonio again, for caring about him. How many times had that made it? He'd lost count over the first few days.

"Lovino," said Antonio softly, almost a growl. The Italian looked around, expecting Antonio to be mad at him for the outburst, but instead found exhilarant, green eyes staring into his own.

Lovino froze for a bit, when he felt something resting on his hand. He knew, he didn't have to look, but he knew, they were definitely Antonio's hands. "You're a great guitarist, you've learn so much in such a short period of time," he said, leaning closer to Lovino.

The Italian closed his eyes, and felt himself blushing slightly at the now lack of personal space. Although for some reason, he relaxed more. "You don't need to worry about your brother, or that guy, or the guy who's replacing you. It's their loss, and they'll be without an excellent musician," he said calmly, almost hypnotic.

And without a second more, Antonio pressed his lips to Lovino's. At first, it was just a short, unsure brush, but as soon as the Spaniard realized Lovino wasn't drawing away, he gained confidence, with it growing into a long, passionate kiss. His hand had moved from the latter's, now reaching around his back.

They eventually broke off, panting slightly, and Antonio had then realized what he'd done. He was about to say something, when Lovino had stood up. "I-I've forgotten something," he said abruptly, before dashing out the door.

"W-Wait, Lovi, your… guitar…. Great," said Antonio, as he heard the door slam shut, and Lovino's slowly faltering footsteps running down the metal staircase. He frowned a bit, as if what occurred before was only now making sense to him. He looked out the window, and ran a hand through his hair.

"Ah, did I go too fast?" he laughed uncertainly, and half-heartedly.

-x-

Lovino tore down the stairs, three at a time, and paying little to no direction on his balance. His mind was pretty much in shock. If being told by his own brother he wasn't needed, in something he'd been looking forward to, being kissed by Antonio only added to his confusion. He hadn't anticipated it at all.

He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. He didn't even get why Antonio had kissed him in the first place. It wasn't that he didn't enjoy it…

He shook his head. Why was the only thing in his mind right now Antonio, of all things? It was his turn to be all depressed, now that he had somewhat of a reason, and he could be more noticeable than his brother. Well, that was the plan, at least…

Sighing, Lovino turned into the nearest coffee shop to think about things. After ordering his latte, he sat down at a wall seat so he could sulk in peace. Or, so he thought.

"Bonjour, Lovino," came a familiar voice. Lovino looked up to find his worst fear confirmed.

He stared up at the Frenchman, unable to form words for a bit. "W-what the hell are you doing here? Are you stalking me or something?" he asked.

Francis wiggled his eyebrows. "Perhaps I am, perhaps," he smiled, before frowning seriously. "Non, mon ami, I work here," he said.

Oh. Oh. Well that was a legitimate enough explanation. "Ah, okay," Lovino replied awkwardly. He watched as Francis placed his cup of steaming latte on the table, and pulled up the opposite chair.

Francis lifted his hand to his chin, before beginning to talk. "What's up with you? You don't look very happy, where's your smile?"

Lovino frowned and looked down at his beverage. "Not like I smile anyway," he said sourly. "And nothing's up," he added.

Francis gave a blank expression. "Let me guess, something happened with Antonio?" he guessed.

Lovino looked up awkwardly. "Well… that's half of it I guess," he stammered. He decided it was impossible to lie to this guy, and as much as he disliked him, maybe talking over things might be an alright idea.

So Lovino started talking about how he'd received the call from his younger brother, and his outbreak at Antonio. Francis wasn't really interested of course, he was only hoping to hear about some romantic thing the two of them might have done in conclusion of the events.

But that was something Lovino was skeptical about sharing with the romantic Frenchman. He was sure that mentioning, even obscurely, anything… cute between him and Antonio would instantly catch Francis's attention faster than light.

"I can't believe my brother ditched me for that bastard Ludwig," he muttered to himself, for the sixth time that hour.

This, however, piqued Francis's interest. "Ludwig you say? Ludwig Beilschmidt?" he asked inquisitively.

Lovino blinked. "Y-yeah, that's him… do you know him or something?" he questioned.

Francis swallowed. "Yeah, we work together. Him, Antonio and I all sort of work together. Not at this café, though… something else, though that's unimportant, "he said, before shutting up.

Lovino narrowed his eyes. Francis works with Antonio, and just like the latter didn't go into much detail of their work. "So you work in Spain?"

Francis laughed. "No, no I don't . I work in France, Ludwig works in Germany," he smiled.

"But.. but you just freaking said you worked together!" said Lovino, confused and exasperated by this idiot's words.

Francis looked to the side, before smiling. "We're… sort of like business partners," he said. "Yeah, that works," he muttered to himself.

Lovino scowled. Maybe these guys were all secret spies or something, spying on America, that's why they're all not in their working countries. Or maybe they were part of the Underworld, selling drugs and illegal weapons.

He stifled a huge burst of laughter; no way would Antonio, being the dumbass he is, have ties to illegal businesses. He'd never realize when people were being serious or scamming the life out of him.

He drained the last of his drink, before getting up from his seat. "Thanks for listening to me… I think," he said, half smiling. He picked up his bag, when he suddenly realized he'd left the guitar over at Antonio's.

Whatever, he could get it… another time. That is, if he ever needed it again.

-x-

Opening the door to his house, Lovino felt irritated the second he stepped inside. First of all, his brother was happy. Fucking ecstatic. With the German bastard. And that new person replacing him. Maybe Lovino was being selfish, but he was upset with his brother (and the world) for making him feel slightly miserable.

So the plan was to creep into his bedroom slowly and silently, so he would be able to sulk there in peace.

"Ciao, fratello!" calling Feliciano happily. Shit, there went the plan. Lovino stared at the trio blankly, and nodded to his brother. He frowned slightly at the dark-haired Asian, and full-out scowled at Ludwig.

"What's the matter, fratello? And where's your guitar?" asked Feliciano innocently. "You don't look very happy," he said quietly.

"No shit I'm not happy, fucktard!" yelled Lovino, causing Feliciano to pout slightly at the insult. Kiku opened his mouth to say something, but decided not to at the last second. Ludwig, however, didn't hold his tongue.

"Does this have anything to do with Feliciano?" he said, irritated that their conversation was interrupted.

Lovino turned and stared at the German man. "Why don't you just shut the fuck up, and stay out of this?" he glared. "It's none of your business," he spat. "And your fault," he added in Italian.

Both Ludwig and Kiku watched blankly, as the siblings (mostly Lovino) bickered with each other in a conversation rapidly dropping into Italian more than anything else.

"Lovino, just drop it already!" came a different voice. The Italian turned, to see Antonio sitting at the counter, slightly irritated. "It has nothing to do with your brother, he's told you that already, so stop blaming him," he said tiredly. He'd been there the whole time, even before Lovino had entered the house, and had been listening in on their argument. He hadn't understood most of it due to the differences between Spanish and Italian and the speed they'd been talking, but he'd gotten the main points.

He shot a deathly look at Antonio, but held his tongue. Feeling the worst he had the whole day, he stormed past the four of them and shut himself in his room with a slam.

Feliciano was frozen slightly, before raising his arm and wiping his eyes. "I-I've never really seen him to mad before," he said quietly. He bit his lip, not meeting anyone in the eyes. He was glad that Lovino had been kind enough to say it in their language, he would've most likely cried of embarrassment if Ludwig and Kiku had heard what Lovino said about them.

He looked up, and gave an apologetic look at Antonio. "Um.. Antonio… do you think you could talk to him?" he asked quietly. "I-I don't think he wants to see me right now," he added, a sad tone to it.

Antonio looked at him uncomfortably. "If he doesn't want to talk to you what makes you think he'll talk to me?"

"Well… I'm the one he's mad at, you heard him didn't you? He's always talking about you, and he's been as happy as he is these days," he smiled.

Antonio's eyes lit up slightly. Lovino actually did that? "I-I guess I could then," he mumbled awkwardly, before getting up, and picking up the guitar case. He knocked twice on Lovino's door, followed by a timid 'can I come in?' before opening the door regardless.

Eh, Antonio didn't need to know that Feliciano had made up that second statement.

-x-

Antonio was greeted by a pillow being thrown at his face. "Piss off, bastard," came Lovino's muffled voice. Sighing, Antonio bent down to pick up the pillow, and promptly threw it back at Lovino.

There was a loud groan of irritation, and Lovino sat up from his bed. "What do you want?" he asked icily.

Antonio looked over at him, trying his best to avoid Lovino's eyes, in case of awakening his evident pissed-off-ness. "I er, brought your guitar over, since you kind of… left it there," he said.

"I could've gone and picked it up, you know… you didn't have to do all this," he sighed, as he got off his bed and took the guitar from Antonio's arms.

"Ah… I'm going to Spain again tonight so I wouldn't have been home," he said awkwardly.

Oh. "How come you didn't tell me earlier?" he asked, tilting his head.

"Oh, uh, I was only told a few hours ago," he frowned. "Late notice, huh?" he laughed.

Lovino stared. "You could have asked for it to be tomorrow, couldn't you? Since it's a short notice and stuff…" he thought aloud.

"Ah…" he said, scratching his head. "My boss said it was urgent… can't ignore orders from the boss," he smiled.

There was a brief pause, and Lovino was just about to ask him again about his work, when the Spaniard suddenly began to cough violently.

"H-hey, bastard! A-are you alright?" Lovino asked, alarmed. Antonio lifted his hand up to show he was alright.

"I- I," he started, only to break off coughing again. He took a deep breath, a few more coughs, before calming down. "You've heard about Spain's economic condition, right?" he asked.

…What? To tell the truth, Lovino hadn't. He hadn't seen the news for a while, which was pretty bad. It sounded familiar, though. Maybe Feliciano had mentioned it..? "Yeah," he lied. "What of it?"

"I have to go to work for that reason," he sighed, looking up at the roof. "I guess I'm coughing because of the stress. I had a bit of a fever this morning too," he frowned.

Lovino rolled his eyes. "You shouldn't be working, then."

Antonio laughed. "If only I could quit, Lovi," he said. He sounded slightly tired as he said this too. "I've been working this job far too long," he added softly.

Lovino swallowed as he opened up the guitar case, to reveal the instrument before the two of them. The atmosphere also dropped a few degrees. "So…" began Lovino, unsure where to begin himself. "I… Feliciano doesn't need me anymore," he said quietly. That was the nth time the thought had crossed his mind that day, yet he still had trouble believing it

Antonio ran his fingers over a few strings of the guitar, smiling to himself. So many memories...

"You shouldn't quit, you know, just because of this," he said softly.

Lovino turned his head, cocking it to the side, waiting for Antonio to continue.

"I said it earlier, but… you're a great musician. You've learnt so much in a short amount of time. Don't… don't quit it, Lovi," he said, the tiniest amount of begging hidden away under it.

Biting his lip, the Italian looked at the floor. Half of him, his angry side, was telling him to give up guitar, get rid of it, to never touch music again. If he hadn't agreed to it in the first place, he wouldn't be feeling so fucking angry right now. But his smart side, which was quite often ignored, told him to press on. To continue, even without the drive of his brother to motivate him. Sure, he had been looking forward to playing with his brother, but there were always future opportunities, right? And even if… even if there weren't, he still did love to feel those strings under his fingers, the pick in his hand…

"I… I'll miss having you around if you stop," said Antonio.

And although he'd said it quietly, barely audible, it was magnified in Lovino's ears. A shock went through his body, as he realized what it was that Antonio had said. He actually laughed, and looked up at Antonio. He met him in the eyes, stunning, emerald eyes reflecting into his own.

"Who said I'm quitting, dumbass?"

-x-

Hnnnggghhh I suck at fluff I much prefer writing angst. Angsty angst that makes your heart race. \( `3`)/
No Italian fighting dialogue since I don't know Italian, and I don't trust Google Translate…
My apologies if everything's moving really fast. It's just that… I can't think of legitimate situations to fit between everything, without it seeming so… filler-ish, especially since I want to finish this off soon. School starting in February "orz

Please review, constructive criticism is greatly appreciated! You've all been great so far ; u ; [/sends love to reviewrers]