Antonio breathed as shallowly as possible, listening intently to the crunching footsteps sounding a couple feet back for any pauses or hesitation. Lovino had insisted he was able to walk again when they had neared the base of the mountain, and, seeing as they weren't far from the car, Antonio had begrudgingly complied, concerned about what might happen if he wounded the volatile boy's ego any more than he already had. He couldn't quite understand why it was so important to Lovino to appear invulnerable, but he couldn't shake the feeling that it was partially his fault. He hadn't meant to make himself out to be a hero, swooping in to rescue the defenseless damsel in distress, but he knew he was most likely coming off that way.
In truth, Antonio was no more ready to discuss his weaknesses and past tribulations with Lovino than the Italian was to share his own. With most people it didn't matter, they thought Antonio was naturally jovial and kind, and that was enough, but with Lovino things were different. The boy didn't take anything for granted, and Antonio appreciated that in him, even if it did drive him a bit crazy. Lovino was able to pick up on non-verbal cues, a skill that Antonio had knowingly never completely possessed, but the talent was rendered useless because the boy didn't believe what he observed. The Spaniard had realized that showing Lovino affection wasn't enough to comfort him, he had to tell him he cared, tell him he enjoyed his company and that he thought him worth spending time with. Lovino didn't trust people, it was something Antonio had come to realize many days ago, but it still hurt him that he was lumped into the same category as the strangers the Italian encountered. He felt he should be different, that he should mean more, but he realized it might just be him imposing his blossoming feelings on the boy.
"How you holdin' up?" Antonio called, not bothering to look back at the glare he knew he was receiving.
"Fine," a weak voice sounded, anger halfheartedly applied to its tone.
Antonio sighed and lifted his eyes to the graying skies, Lovino had picked up that litany shortly after he had finally confessed everything wasn't alright in his world. It was ok though, Antonio hadn't expected Lovino to divulge everything to him immediately, even if he had hoped it might be that easy. The Italian had given up more of himself than he probably realized with his short admission. Antonio no longer felt crazy, for one. He had always sensed that Lovino's anger was just a tool to distance himself from people, but now he knew it for certain. The hard part would be finding out why Lovino felt the need to be unsociable, what he was so scared of losing. But it was encouraging to know that even if it was for one brief moment, for one fleeting second, the Italian had felt comfortable enough with Antonio to give a piece of himself away.
Antonio fished his keys out of his pocket when his car came into view and unlocked the doors, shuffling around to the passenger side first to hold the door open for the lagging Italian. He turned to stare expectantly at his companion, smiling slightly with sympathy when he saw the boy's pasty white face and hunched posture. He wasn't sure how to regard Lovino anymore, he didn't know if it was would be more damaging to pretend nothing had happened or to encourage the Italian to expand upon his confession.
"Don't do that," Lovino mumbled, folding his arms in front of his chest to distract from his dragging feet.
"Do what?" Antonio asked innocently, fighting the urge to ruffle the sour-faced Italian's hair when he reached the side of the car and stared up bitterly into his shining green eyes.
"This," Lovino snarled, pushing Antonio's hand away from the car handle and pushing the door closed with his body.
Antonio tilted his head in confusion, "ah, you don't want me opening the door for you?"
Lovino sighed deeply and shook his head, mumbling curses under his breath, "Don't," he started, discernibly irritated at being forced to spell out his discomforts to the older boy, "don't treat me like a girl."
Antonio stayed silently for a moment, gazing intently at the Italian's serious face before bursting out in a deep belly laugh. "I-I'm sorry," he choked out between chuckles, disturbed by the way Lovino's face reddened with a combination of embarrassment and anger, but unable to squelch the audible enjoyment projecting from his throat.
Lovino balled his fists at his side, he liked watching the way Antonio's soft curls bounced when he laughed, but not when he was the source of the amusement. "Fuck you," he growled, ripping the car door back open and dipping into his seat before slamming it shut again and jamming the lock into place with his fist.
Antonio gulped down the fresh mountain air, willing his stomach to still its contractions while brushing a knuckle to his cheek to remove the tear forming in his eye. "Lovi," he called through the window, trying for the handle and frowning slightly when he felt no resistance. "I'm sorry, I wasn't making fun of you," he tried, kneeling slightly so he could peer into the window at the forward-facing Italian. Lovino didn't turn his head to regard the older boy, he had allowed Antonio a piece of his diligently guarded ego and the Spaniard had responded by trampling all over it. This was the reaction Lovino feared most: he didn't want to be treated like some delicate creature, like a broken item needing fixing. He didn't want Antonio's sympathy, because even if he wasn't sure exactly what he had hoped to accomplish by admitting his life was maybe as miserable as it appeared, he knew being coddled wasn't it.
"Lovi," Antonio tried again, his desperate muffled voice making the Italian sigh with frustration and pull his arms across his chest. "Please let me in," the voice sounded again, Lovino didn't look but he just knew there was a spot of fog forming on the glass, born from the moist heat expelled from the Spaniard's mouth so close to his head.
"The other door's unlocked, Bastard," he grumbled, darting his eyes to the floorboard so he didn't have to watch Antonio dart around the front of the car. Shivers ran down the back of Lovino's spine as he heard the crunching footsteps draw away from his side and he jumped unconsciously at the sudden blast of chilly autumn air when the driver's door was yanked open, carrying with it the subtle scent of spices that seemed ever-present in the Spaniard's tanned skin.
Lovino turned his face to the window when he felt the car shifting, sinking from the additional weight of the person moving into the driver's seat. "Lovi," the kind timbre sounded again, Lovino wished the boy would stop saying his nickname so many times. He hated how beautiful and familiar that moniker sounded coming out of his mouth. It had become a guilty pleasure for him, he had given up trying to correct Antonio, convinced that no amount of scolding would alter the Spaniard's behavior. In truth he didn't want to change it, he wanted to pretend he was familiar enough with Antonio to be called by the name only his brother and his parents had ever uttered, even if he knew it was his heart's deception.
"What?" Lovino snapped, feeling suddenly overwhelmed by the day's stresses.
Antonio stared at Lovino's turned head, eyes glazing over as he watched the boy's drained face reflected in the window. "It's just that," he paused, licking his dry top lip as he considered what he should say, "why don't we find somewhere to get lunch." He said after a while, his tone suggesting it was more of a statement than a question.
Lovino stayed silent for a while as he mulled over his response, he had anticipated Antonio to apologize or even to defend himself, either of which he had numerous prepared reactions for, but he hadn't expected the Spaniard to drop the subject all together. "Fine," he said finally, shrugging his shoulder to emphasize his ambivalence before slumping back into his seat, "I probably don't have a choice anyway."
Antonio laughed slightly and shifted the gears into drive, "well, it is my car," he teased, pulling into a 3-point turn and flicking on the windshield wipers when a few rogue raindrops fell from the darkening clouds. "Any idea what you want?" Antonio asked as they noisily rolled down the loosely packed gravel.
"Whatever," Lovino answered halfheartedly, tilting his head on the headrest and closing his eyes as he listened to the wind pick up speed and whip through the drying tree limbs. "I'm not even hungry."
"Well that won't do," Antonio scolded lightly as he neared the end of the road and clicked on his turning signal. He hummed in faked contemplation as he turned onto the highway and whizzed across the dampening asphalt to the signs indicating the downtown area, "well, I've heard of some nice restaurants, I guess we could go to one of those."
"I'm not stupid, you know," Lovino huffed, rolling his head to the other shoulder and looking up expectantly at Antonio's forward-facing eyes.
"What?" Antonio asked teasingly, "I don't know what you mean."
"Right," Lovino agreed, sarcasm filling his voice, "you didn't have any of this planned at all, because it was just supposed just a morning trip, 'we'll definitely be back by afternoon,'" Lovino broke into an impersonation of Antonio, grasping his hands together under his chin as he stared pleadingly at Antonio. "'Please come with me Lovi, please, I have no friends, I'm just a smelly ol' Spaniard and no one likes meeee,'" He continued, throwing his hands down with a scoff when Antonio chuckled lightly.
"Aw, c'mon Lovi, I don't smell, do I?" He appealed, duplicating Lovino's exaggerated tone.
"You do," Lovino nodded, pleased that the attention had finally been removed from himself. "Like an armpit," he added, smirking when Antonio's mouth dropped in indignation.
"Not true," Antonio declared, clicking on the turning signal when the downtown exit came into view. "Unless that armpit belonged to the most alluring, sweet smelling creature in the universe," he added, pleased with his response.
Lovino only snorted and rolled his eyes as he turned his head back to the window, "whatever," he argued weakly.
Antonio glanced to the hunched boy, a warm smile teasing the corner of his lips, "besides, I'm not the only one in this car that smells."
Lovino shot up in his seat and turned to Antonio, his eyebrows knit in anger, "I do not smell!" He shouted, pointing a finger accusingly at the Spaniard's turned face.
Antonio rolled his eyes over to the infuriated boy and grabbed his hand, pulling him forward so he could bury his nose into his wrist. "Mmm," he teased, fighting the temptation to trace his teeth against the soft flesh, "smells like," he paused as he contemplated, "ink and tomatoes."
"Leggo, Pervert!" Lovino yelped, wrenching his palm from Antonio's soft grip and cradling the captured hand against his chest as he willed away the warm blush filling his pale cheeks.
Antonio only laughed, feeling giddy from the contact as he weaved his car through the tight streets. "Sorry," he teased, "I just can't resist eau de Lovi."
"Idiot," Lovino grumbled, rolling his eyes to watch the raindrops splatter against the cold glass as he resisted the smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
Antonio sighed contentedly, pleased that the omnipresent tension was finally unraveling. "Look out for a parking spot," he said as he turned onto the main street, slowing his speed so he could dart his eyes around for an empty space.
"There," Lovino said after a few silent seconds, pressing his finger against the window in urgency as Antonio nodded and eased on his brakes. He moved into the spot, readjusting a few times as he grumbled over his disdain of parallel parking. When he was finally satisfied with his job, he downshifted the car into park and opened the middle console, "I'm afraid I don't have any umbrellas," he said as he dug around for loose coins.
"It's not a big deal," Lovino shrugged, he liked the rain, the way it sizzled on hot asphalt and cooled the warm blush so often marring his cheeks. He appreciated that even the sky, in it's infinite size and unimaginable strength, had to release its burdens from time to time.
Antonio nodded and slammed the console closed, pushing the quarters around his open palm as he mentally calculated how much time they would be afforded. "Are you sure?" He said after a while, closing his hand around the change as he reached for the door handle, "because I could-"
"I'm sure." Lovino snapped, his previous irritation at the Spaniard's propensity for treating him like a helpless child sneaking back into his tense muscles.
Antonio nodded, unfazed by the boy's harsh tone as he pushed open his door and clomped across the wet cement to feed the coins into the meter. "We've got a little less than two hour," he said when he heard the Italian exit the car and slam the door behind him.
"Do we really need that much time?" Lovino scoffed, cursing when he stepped in a deep puddle accumulating at the curb.
Antonio shrugged and dug his keys from his pocket, locking the car before dropping the fob back into his slacks and looking up and down the slightly crowded sidewalk. "I don't want to risk it," he said, grabbing Lovino gently by the elbow and pulling him down the walkway. "Besides," he continued, loosening his grip when the Italian fell in step beside him and yanked his elbow back, "we can always stop in a few stores if we finish lunch early."
"No way," Lovino said flatly, pushing his cold hands in his vest pockets and folding his chin to his chest to keep the raindrops from splashing into his eyes.
"Why not?" Antonio whined jokingly, pausing in front of a posted menu and scanning over its contents before shaking his head and continuing down the sidewalk.
"You've wasted enough of my time," Lovino grumbled, concentrating on the slick sound of his rubber souls against the moist cement.
"You're not implying you haven't had fun?" Antonio gasped in faked shock as he dipped beneath a restaurant awning and studied its menu before smirking and pacing down the street again.
"Yes." Lovino said firmly, tilting his head up as he studied the collection of multicolored umbrellas bobbing over their owners' heads. "Are you ever going to choose a place?" He spat when Antonio turned down the third establishment's offerings and continued down the rainy street.
"Patience, patience," he laughed, "I'm just trying to find the right place."
"If it's dry and has water on the menu, it works," Lovino argued, hunching his shoulders in an attempt to preserve some of his quickly fleeting body heat.
"I thought you didn't mind the rain," Antonio replied, winking down at the frowning Italian.
"I don't," Lovino growled, knitting his eyebrows at the street as he paced, "it's the cold I don't like."
Antonio tilted his head and smiled, "you're cold? Why didn't you say?" he teased, attempting to wrap his arms around the Italian before stumbling back when a sharp elbow met contact with his stomach. "I think that could be called abuse," he coughed out when he had regained his composure, brushing the tears forming in the corners of his eyes with his jacket sleeve.
"Or it could be self-defense," Lovino snapped back, pointing to his black eye with a slight smirk.
"Ah, that was an accident," Antonio defended, picking back up his pace as he neared the end of the street. "Hmm, where is it?" He asked himself quietly, darting his eyes from side to side as he searched for his desired destination.
Lovino sighed and pushed his hands back into his pockets, walking quickly to catch up the with Spaniard's longer strides. "What are you looking for exactly?"
Antonio hummed as he craned his neck to gaze down the entirety of the main street, "it's this place that's supposed to be around here, I don't know much about it except the food's supposed to be great."
Lovino rolled his eyes, "that's not what I meant, tell me what it looks like."
Antonio nodded, "All I know is that there's supposed to be a blue door."
Lovino shook his head to the ground and grabbed the Spaniard's elbow, wrenching him down the street as he stomped across the forming puddles. "We're going the wrong way," he growled, releasing Antonio's arm when he was sure he had caught the boy's attention.
"You saw it?" Antonio asked curiously, jogging slightly so he was walking next to the quickly moving Italian.
"Yeah," Lovino replied simply, keeping his eyes forward as he navigated around the umbrella-bearing civilians.
"That's cool," Antonio said, genuinely impressed.
"A blue door is pretty hard to miss," Lovino scoffed, taking a larger than normal step to avoid a deep pool of water.
"I didn't see it," Antonio reminded, leveling a hand on the small boy's waist when he teetered precariously to the side.
Lovino regained his footing and shook his head, "well it helps that I don't have my head up my ass," he scowled, looking up at Antonio to give him a self-satisfied smirk before turning his eyes back to the street and pointing a finger across the road. "There it is," he said simply, before sliding the hand back into the warm sanctuary of his pocket.
Antonio followed the direction of Lovino's finger and smiled, "awesome," he cheered happily, walking to the crosswalk and turning his head up the one-way street before making his way across the road, unconsciously walking to the side of Lovino so the boy was protected from any oncoming cars. He regarded the posted menu quickly before nodding his head, "yep, this is it," he confirmed before pulling open the door and pausing to enter until the Italian had passed into the building.
"Sit wherever you like," A voice sounded from the kitchen when the pair entered, a tinkling bell alerting the worker's to their presence. The restaurant was sparse in decoration and empty, save for a quietly talking older couple and a man huddled in the corner of the room, face shrouded by a newspaper. Lovino moved to the corner of the room closest to the front windows, wincing at the way the well-worn wooden floors squeaked under his feet.
"It's not exactly fancy, is it?" He mumbled to Antonio when he wrenched his wobbly chair from beneath the table.
"Don't judge a book by-"
"Yeah, yeah," Lovino dismissed the predictable comment, letting an elbow drop on the sticky plastic tablecloth as he peered through the yellowing lace curtains to the rain splattered window. Lovino spaced out when a waiter come up and placed a pitcher of cold water and two laminated menus on the table. He poured himself a glass of the cool liquid immediately and gulped it down, not caring that it was probably from the tap.
"Pace yourself," Antonio laughed, pouring himself a glass and sipping at it as he peered over the menu.
Lovino looked up from his cup and grimaced, he didn't appreciate being treated like a child. He was accustomed to being the strong one, the one that did the looking out for, and the role reversal made him uncomfortable. His life wasn't perfect, but it was what he had decided on, what he had determined was safest. He didn't need someone to change his mind, he didn't want to know what he was missing out on. His life wasn't happy, but it was predictable, and it was the only thing he knew. It scared him to imagine changing, he hardly trusted his existence as it was, if he were to throw a wrench into his thoroughly planned responses and strictly followed regulations, he was certain he would lose everything.
"What are you going to order?" Antonio asked casually, sliding his menu to the edge of the table as he picked up his glass and sipped thoughtfully.
"Nothing," Lovino replied sternly, refilling his glass and taking a few hungry gulps.
"Aren't you hungry?" Antonio asked, lowering his half filled cup back to the table and turning his head to study the Italian's pale face.
"No," Lovino said simply, eyes glazing over as he stared at the glass, wishing he could press his face into its cold surface.
Antonio reached a hand out to touch Lovino's forehead, only to withdraw it when it was slapped away, "Are you feeling ok?"
"Yes," Lovino replied, cheeks growing hot from the attention, "I'm just not fucking hungry," he snapped, anger creeping into his hushed voice.
Antonio sat silently, deciding on the right course of action before sighing and slumping slightly in his seat, "ok," he said finally, picking up Lovino's menu and stacking it on top of his own to hand to the waitress before he made his order. The pair sat in silence while Antonio waited for his food, only the steady pattering of the rain against the window, the comforting murmur of conversation and the occasional crackle of newspaper pages being turned filling the still, humid air. "If I order you something, do you think you'd eat it later when you are hungry?" Antonio asked after a while.
Lovino shrugged one shoulder, refusing to turn his face from the mildew-ridden curtains, "I have a lot of work to do," he mumbled, his cryptic response indicating a mutually understood "no."
"Lovi," Antonio sighed, leaning his head on his hand as he peered at the boy's turned face, "you have to eat or you're not going to get anything done."
"I don't have time," Lovi replied quickly, "someone's kept me out longer than he said."
Antonio picked his head back up and leaned back in his chair, "Ok, I'm sorry," he admitted, "I just thought you needed a break."
"That's not for you to decide," Lovino growled, turning his eyes to glance at the frustrated Spaniard's face.
"Well you'd never decide it on your own," Antonio pleaded, "you're too hard on yourself."
"Where the fuck do you get off-" Lovino started, voice rising a few octaves as he slammed an open palm on his table, before remembering where he was and lowering his voice again, "that's not for you to decide either," he seethed.
"I'm not just going to watch you work yourself to death," Antonio argued, reaching out a hesitant hand to stroke the angered boy's arm.
Lovino jerked his arms back and folded them in front of his chest, "I'm so sorry I'm not carefree like Feliciano," he retorted, voice dripping in sarcasm.
"It's not about Feli," Antonio interrupted, staring pleadingly into the Italian's hazel eyes.
"Isn't it?" Lovino snapped back, lowering his vision to the tacky rubber tablecloth. The truth was he knew it wasn't about Feliciano, at least not anymore. He wasn't clueless, he knew that Antonio was starting to care for him, but it made him feel sick, like he was fooling the boy. There was nothing in him worth loving, he was empty, a void. If he worked himself too hard it's because he had to, to prove his worth, to show the world that there was a reason he was living.
"It hasn't been for a long time," Antonio continued, wanting more than anything to raise from his seat and wrap his arms around the small boy's body.
"Then what-"
"Why does there have to be a reason, Lovi?" Antonio interrupted, "why does there have to be a motive behind liking you?"
Lovino didn't know how to answer, or, he did, but he wouldn't dare say the truth. That there was nothing about him worth liking, absolutely nothing. He was ill-tempered, manipulative, self-centered, he hated himself, so it was inconceivable to imagine why anyone would ever feel differently. He had heard the old adage so many times, about how you had to love yourself before anyone else could do it. It irritated him that he believed it, but it made sense. He knew himself better than anyone, so if he could find no admirable traits, if he was unable to find the will to love himself, then how could anyone else?
"You're so hard on yourself," Antonio pressed, hesitantly pushing against the barriers he could tell were breaking.
Lovino breathed heavily, concentrating on the energy it required to push the air in and out of his tired lungs. He couldn't take it anymore, not the restaurant and the way a thin haze of condensation seemed to be layered upon every surface, the way the curtains were shredded at the bottom, as if they were pulling away from the rod holding them up, or the way the light teal paint cracked around the windows, nor Antonio and the way he breathed, the way he smelled, the way his eyes stared at him so gently and kindly. "Fuck you," he said simply, his mind at a loss to form any kind of coherent statement as he pushed back his seat and straightened to his feet before marching back into the cold and rainy street.
Antonio stared dumbfounded as the Italian exited the room, quickly digging in his pocket for a few crumpled bills and throwing them on the table before darting out the door after him. "Lovi," he shouted as he navigated around the umbrella-bearing strangers, "Lovi, stop!"
Lovino kept his face to the ground, walking quickly as he listened to Antonio's nearing voice. He was embarrassed to have caused a scene, but he felt like he was being cornered, and his instinct was to run. He wasn't used to having anyone question his lifestyle, or try and change it. It made him uncomfortable and defensive, Antonio might have thought he was helping the Italian, but he didn't know what he was getting into, he couldn't possibly realize just how deep his issues went, and how much it hurt to force himself to recognize them.
"Lovi!" Antonio shouted again as he neared the retreating back, he thrust a hand forward, clasping it around Lovino's wrist and yanking the boy back into his stomach. "Stop, Lovi, just stop," Antonio soothed, holding the boy firmly to his chest.
"Let go, Bastard!" Lovino snapped, wriggling against the tight embrace.
"Just listen to me a second," Antonio pleaded, tightening his grip against the Italian's jerking movements.
"No, you listen to me!" Lovino shouted back, positioning his palms against Antonio's chest and pushing back until he was finally released. he stumbled backwards, bumping into a passing civilian but not bothering to apologize as he straightened back up and narrowed an angry gaze at Antonio, "stop pretending like you know me," he seethed, walking up to the Spaniard so he could stare into his emerald eyes, "you don't know me, you don't know anything."
Antonio's face remained calm, no indication of his emotions passing through his features as he gave a short nod, "you're right," he said simply, "I don't know you. How could I, when you refuse to let me in?"
Lovino's mouth gaped open, he wasn't going to allow Antonio to make this his fault, he hadn't asked for the Spaniard's interference in his life. Everything had been fine without him, maybe he wasn't happy, hell, maybe he was fucking miserable, but it was what he wanted, it was safe, it was calculated, it was his life. "I don't need to be saved," Lovino ground out, balling his fists at his sides, "not by you or anyone."
Antonio nodded knowingly, "I know that," he breathed, willing Lovino to understand the truthfulness in his words, "I like you Lovi, and I-" he paused, taking a breath as he contemplated what he wanted to say. "I just, I want to see you smile and laugh, a-and," he laid a hand on Lovino's shoulder and pulled affectionately at his earlobe, "and cry if you have to. It's selfish, Lovi, it's not for you, it's for me."
"I don't-"
"What I want," Antonio continued, undisturbed by the Italian's interjection, "is for you to give me permission to like you."
Lovino couldn't tell if his heart was floating or sinking, it didn't make sense that Antonio would treat him the way he had, not out of sympathy, but out of true affection. He didn't know if he believed it, but he didn't refuse the warm embrace he was suddenly wrapped in or the soft kiss that was pressed to his cheek. He only hoped Antonio didn't taste the salty tears hidden by the steady afternoon rain.