It was around seven pm when Antonio propped himself onto his living room couch, a tomato in his left hand and a glass of tomato juice in the other. He set the drink down on the coffee table and turned on his flat screen television. There was a telenovela [Spanish drama] playing at the moment, one in which the Spaniard found himself enjoying since his discovery of it's existence.
The main character—an ill-tempered yet likeable young woman from high society named Aida— and her younger sister—a sweet, pretty and kind girl named Margarita—were having a sisterly moment on the screen in the episode playing. From what Antonio had gathered, Aida had an inferiority complex with her sister, but loved her all the same, and Margarita was so much of an airhead that she didn't notice a thing. Then there was the leading male—a charming, rich and friendly man named Felix—whom was madly in love with Aida, though she didn't understand why. Aida strongly believed that, like everyone else, he preferred her sister more and saw herself as a snobbish grump. Throughout the series, Felix had earnt her trust with each passing episode, but in the current one, all that he had worked for seemed to be crumbling away.
Antonio sat quietly, engrossed in the drama that unfolded before his eyes.
On the television, Aida had just returned from her two month stay in Istanbul, and was being reunited with Felix in a park. It was hinted before in the show that Felix planned to confess his love for her at that moment, but naturally, a jealous and 'trolling' family member poisoned Aida's thoughts with half-truths and reminders of the past; thus, destroying the foundation of the bond they had created.
'Why won't you look at me, Aida? It has been so long since we've seen each other, yet you refuse to meet my eyes! Why must you be so… so…," Felix seemed to have trouble finishing his sentence, although Aida cut him off anyways.
'So what, hmm? Callous? Unkind? Well, I don't see why it should matter to you, after all, you just hang around for my sister; everyone does. You're just like the others.' Aida refused to look at the other man, and focused purposefully on the flowers, as if they perked a sudden interest in her. Tears seemed to be appearing at the corners of her eyes, tears that her voice over indicated to be ones of anger, NOT sadness. She turned the other way quickly, her eyebrows knit tightly together to create an intimidating frown.
'It's not like this makes me sad… I just thought you were different, Felix. I thought you would understand, and that you would be there for me…' Said man made a thoughtful expression that the camera zoomed in on, and only then did his eyes seem to widen with sudden realization.
'You're wrong, Aida, I'm not like everyone else. And I don't want to be like them; I'm here for you and only you, no one else," then he spun the tearing Aida around and gently held her hands in his. "I missed you very much, and I thought about you often. Even now, when you are right in front of me, I don't think I can contain my joy much longer. I heard about how people treated you when you were young, and I promise my intentions are nothing relating to those. The past is the past, but I must ask you: is it possible to forgive and forget, Aida? Can you not see that I am here for one reason and one reason only?' After his indirect confession, he had grasped the woman's attention as her olive green eyes met his dark brown ones. Despite being on camera, the electricity between the two was nearly tangible, and left an everlasting effect on Antonio. He could only watch with awe as the scene became more and more intimate. Mio Dios, will the show end soon? That's a shame.
'When you say it like that, it almost sounds as if you're… But alas, I'm sure that for such a thing to be directed to me is impossible… Still… What is your reason, Felix?'The Spaniard watching gasped in awe; she rarely EVER called her love interest by his name and in such a sweet tone as well. He ran to the kitchen as fast as his legs could carry him during the commercial break and brought back to the living room several churros and a glass of water. Sitting in a fetal position, Antonio tensed immediately when he saw the show appear on screen after the break.
In the scene, Aida's hands were held in Felix's as the emotions in their eyes clashed. Gulping slowly, the man sighed deeply before answering your question.
'I think you already know, my sweet, but if it pleases you to hear me say it then I shall do so," and he brought her knuckles to his lips and softly pecked them. "I love you, Aida, and that is my one true reason. You are the moon in my eyes, and the rose growing with the thorns. Like dancing petals in the autumn wind, my life would not be complete without the memories I've made with you. I don't care what others think, nor do I care what they say or do. So I must request— as selfishly as a man can— for an acknowledgment, or at least an opinion, from the love of my life, you.' Aida seemed overwhelmed with what appeared to be shock and embarrassment, but by watching her it became obvious that she was pleased with his confession.
'Then I must admit—as selfishly as a woman can—that I have wanted nothing more than to take you away from all of those people, only to have you just for myself. Because my feelings are mutual, Felix, and no words can describe my euphoria right now." She smiled warmly, beaming with happiness and youth, and the taller man's face brightened with delight. Antonio watched as the two shared an embrace in the garden, then the credits rolled.
He sighed contently as he pressed the power button and stood up from the couch. To him, such a happy ending didn't exist in his realm of vision. Yes, Antonio had confirmed the fact that he was very much in love with Romano, ever since the day the nation had left his side. However, that didn't mean that he welcomed it with open arms. Society would have called it wrong—sick, even—to fall for the person you had single-handedly raised on your own with everything you had. Though he never felt that way in the beginning, Antonio had years to reflect on what he experienced during their parting, and concluded that the emotions were romantic.
But was it the same for nations? Did they go under the same principles and laws that humans did? The Spaniard had often reflected on such things, and had come to the conclusion that they did not. In fact, the interesting thing about personifications of countries was that nearly all of them were homosexual, going against most religious beliefs in many cultures. Though it was amusing, that only proved that the distinction between humans and nations was well defined, and that Antonio's feelings should not have been considered grotesque in the least.
Walking over to his outdoor patio mirroring the ocean, the Spaniard reminisced on the times when he and Romano would just lay on the beach for hours, being lazier than the average Mediterranean and sleeping twice as much. That was around the time Antonio took it upon himself to teach the tiny Italian how to swim, since he had no such knowledge back then. It seemed like hours before the boy finally relaxed in the water, trusting his caretaker with each successful stride he made. Pride and happiness swelled in Antonio's heart when he finally watched Romano swim on his own, bringing him peaceful thoughts. Then again, that was around the time he also started thinking about the Italian's future, and it made him worry. At an early stage in their relationship, he often wondered how Romano would grow up to be like, and whether or not he and Antonio would still be close.
Ah, and then my little tomatino suddenly sprung up one day. It was truly a shocking surprise; the night before he was only a bit past half of my height, but then, WOOSH! He grew like a sunflower and shot upwards, his head being able to meet the highest length of my bicep. I remember the horrified look on his face—Ah~! It was so cute~!—when he looked at me with wide eyes and asked all sorts of paranoid questions involving over-growth and even death. Of course, children shouldn't think like that, and I assured him that it was all a part of being a nation; those things just tended to happen. But then I noticed those muscles that had started to form on his body [most likely from spending time farming the tomatoes], and of course, made a mental note to keep Francis out of my house more often. Because, Mio Dios, the child was becoming quite a looker at such a young age! I thought it was an injustice for someone to appear so vibrant and cute, and of course blamed it on his Roman blood. But who couldn't?
Antonio smiled dreamily as he stared at the ocean, and then literally slapped himself out of his daze. He was thinking of a young Romano, for Christ's sake! Imagining his well toned body, and how certain areas on his back would always have some sort of tension to it, and how his legs would often- He pinched his cheeks with disgust, trying to rid his mind of the venomous thoughts. Antonio felt criminal for mentally picturing his former colony in such a… perverted way, although it wasn't as if he knew what the Italian nation looked like then. But he imaged that Romano was probably one handsome man.
Smirking, Antonio entered his house again, bored out of his mind and wishing for distractions to swerve his train of thoughts. As he considered calling Gilbert and Francis, the Spaniard stopped himself from doing so after remembering that the two would probably be busy preparing for the scavenger hunt thing and all. Which meant that he would have no one to hang out with for some time. That's just great, Antonio thought dryly, and reached for a worn-out journal on his bookshelf [from his Conquistador days, mostly written about Romano *coughcough*] when he heard the sound of a car pulling into his driveway.
Curiously, he pulled aside the curtains and found himself staring at quite the surprise. One of the vehicles he recognized was owned Francis; an ocean blue Venturi Fetish that looked slick and smooth illuminated by the yard lights. However, the other caught Antonio off guard, for it was so stylish and uncommonly seen in Spain. Next to the water fountain centered in his front yard was a red Ferrari 458 Italia, being maneuvered in an elegant fashion by its driver. Due to the heavily tinted windows, the Spaniard couldn't see who was behind the steering wheel of the beauty-of-a-machine, but he knew that the man in the Fetish was none other than his French friend. It appeared that the mysterious handler was being led by Francis, and eventually parked in the path of Antonio's driveway.
Not wanting to come off as impolite to his new guests, the Spaniard turned on more front lights and stepped outside to be greeted by the Frenchman. Behind him was the unknown motorist of the Ferrari, hidden behind the taller man's body. Antonio had guessed that he was either being shy, or his build was just small. Trying to side step Francis to see the man behind him, the other nation only blocked him slyly and gave his Spanish friend a warm smile.
"Bonjour, Antoine! I have brought mon petite ami that I wrote about in the note, and I hope you don't mind. He and I were just, ahem, doing some business with each other, and I thought I'd stop by to greet you!" The Spaniard smiled brightly in response, muttering a small "no problem" or something, all the while watching the figure behind his friend turn around to pull what looked like a fedora from his vehicle. For some reason, his ears—even though the area was dimly lighted—were strangely tinged with a noticeable red, making Antonio more curious to see his face. He wore what looked like a freshly pressed suit [at least from the back], and fine leather shoes that practically screamed 'classy'.
He was the model image of someone pulled straight from an old-time mafia movie, and that only excited the anxious Spaniard, the urge to see the stranger's face metaphorically killing him. When the man turned around, the fedora shaded his face, shadowing his features in the night. However, it could be noticed that he had a thin face shape, dark brown hair and lightly olive toned skin. If only I could see his face! Despite his anticipation, Antonio kept a calm smile on.
"And who is your friend? I apologize, amigo, but I'm afraid I can't see you very clearly when you wear that hat… B-But if you want to keep it, that's alright," the Spanish nation stated, stuttering only when he noticed the glint of gold and green in those eyes. It seemed so familiar, yet he couldn't place or understand why. Francis grinned, chuckling to himself, before motioning towards the man.
"Well, you heard him, mon ami. Off with the hat, oui?" Francis asked his friend, and said 'friend' groaned a bit, before removing his fedora and patting down the tousles and curls in his hair. Antonio's eyes widened in recognition; and no, it wasn't the grumpy expression on the man's face, nor was it the extreme blush he was sporting, that helped him identify the person. It was that one individual curl that stood out and never settled down like the rest of stranger's hair, and the Spaniard couldn't help but notice that he avoided it entirely. Along with the said traits earlier, it became clear who this guy visiting with Francis was, and it made Antonio's heart stop for what felt like minutes. Never had he been caught so off guard.
Annoyed, the personage coughed awkwardly and gave the awestruck man in front of him a murderous glare.
"Are you gonna let us in or what, bastard, because it's fucking windy right now, and random shit is flying in my eyes." For a few minutes, everything was silent—with the exception of the environment surrounding them—then Francis broke the silence.
"Well, Antoine?" he asked his nervous friend, trying to encourage some sort of action out of the speechless Spaniard. Finally, said person regained his composure, and met eyes with the impatient new guest.
"Hello, Romano."
Ah, of course anyone would have seen this coming *bangs head on table for being unoriginal*. Anyways, I just HAD to throw in some sort of reference to Antonio watching Spanish soap operas, because it occurred to me that he may be the type of guy that enjoys that kinda stuff xD but if you've never watched a telenovella, you should totally try, 'cuz they're good. yup.
DAmn, long chapter is long :/ maybe that's what happens when you start writing this non-stop at three in the morning :3