Lovino rubbed his cheek vigorously as he walked next to Antonio, wincing when his foot landed in a cold puddle. "I promise I don't have cooties," Antonio laughed, reaching a hand out to pat the boy on the shoulder, only to drop it back to his side when the Italian jerked away.
"I can't believe you slobbered on me," Lovino grumbled, grinding his knuckles into his inflamed cheek from a combination of frustration and embarrassment.
Antonio glanced over at the fuming boy and grabbed his thin wrist, pulling the hand away from his reddening face, "seriously, Lovi, you're going to rub your cheek raw."
"Well at least I won't have your damn germs on me," Lovino spat back, wrenching his wrist from the Spaniard's loose hold.
Antonio stared questioningly into Lovino's angry eyes before shrugging,"Look, I'm sorry," Antonio acquiesced, he didn't know if the anger was genuine or if Lovino was just trying to cover something up, and he hated his inability to correctly decipher the forlorn look in those soft hazel eyes.
"Whatever," Lovino grumbled, feeling too emotionally exhausted to fight back, "can we just go already?"
Antonio sighed slightly and tilted his head to study the young boy's pale features, "we can if you really want to, but we still have a lot of time on the meter."
Lovino shrugged and bowed his head to the sparsely falling raindrops. He hated that he had ruined the day, he knew that he should appreciate the fact that Antonio was so willing to bend to his needs, but in truth he resented it. Though he didn't feel his anger was always unjustified, Antonio's willingness to quickly relent to his accusations made him feel overwhelmingly guilty. Lovino felt torn, he didn't want to be burdened with the knowledge that he had knowingly destroyed what might have otherwise been an enjoyable outing, but he was feeling so emotionally drained that he doubted if he could survive being away from his familiar settings much longer. It was selfish, he knew, and he hated that about himself. He couldn't remember a time when he had done something that wasn't solely for his own benefit. Even his deeds for his brother, while seemingly selfless, were really just born from a place of insecurity. Feliciano was someone he could hide behind: Lovino would always be considered less likable and less talented than his brother, so why suffer the impending humiliation or discomfort of trying to prove otherwise? Why commit himself fully to his art when he would never measure up anyway? Why reveal his innermost feelings to Antonio when Feliciano would always be more more handsome, more kind, and, as much as it pained him to admit it, more lovable?
Lovino exhaled deeply and peered up at the sky, studying the way the flimsy gray haze swirled against the solid white sky. He felt like stormy fog was churning around his head, permeating into his ears and eyes and fuming into his lungs, if not for the cold raindrops occasional piercing his pale skin, he would have sworn his body had finally given into itself and disintegrated into that dingy haze. His mind told him the logical thing to do was to just go home, to forget about Antonio's feelings and bury himself away until he forgot this day had ever happened. But when he considered the implications of working alone in the printmaking studio, his heart beat painfully against his chest and his throat constricted. It couldn't be possible, that Antonio had made himself such a fixture in his life that it was painful to imagine being without him, but Lovino felt himself unable to deny it. The one thing he had told himself wouldn't occur, the one thing he had feared most, had happened-he had become dependent on Antonio. And more than that, he was falling for him. It wasn't the same as before, it wasn't just that he thought the Spaniard was attractive, but that he felt like he must be the best person he had ever met. He doubted if Antonio was real, he wondered if he had kept his mind isolated for so long that his brain had created this perfect person out of sheer desperation. No one should be so kind, so understanding and gentle; Lovino no longer felt that he had to protect himself from the older boy, it was already too late for him, there was no way he would come out unscathed. Instead, he felt the need to protect Antonio, to help the Spaniard realize there was nothing in him worth liking.
"Lovi?" Antonio asked quietly, nerves radiating in his fingertips from the urge to brush the Italian's soft, rain-soaked bangs out of his face.
Lovino closed his eyes and took a deep breath, holding it momentarily to feel the cold air linger in his chest before exhaling noiselessly as he lowered his vision from the gray sky. "Let's stay," he said finally, lip trembling to fight a soft smile when Antonio's eyes lit up.
"Are you sure?" The Spaniard asked hesitantly, barely masking his enthusiasm.
Lovino shrugged and nodded, he didn't really want to stay, he still had the innate desire to hide away in the loneliest and darkest space he could find, but he knew his embarrassing behavior would be reality no matter what he did, and at least if he stayed he could attempt to make Antonio forget about the earlier debacles. "We should probably find an umbrella for your car," Lovino said dryly, looking down at his rain-speckled clothes for emphasis.
"I thought you didn't mind the rain," Antonio teased, shaking his head to upset the moisture settling into his chestnut curls.
Lovino stomped past the boy and folded his arms in front of chest, "I don't, but I didn't think I'd be outside this long either."
Antonio shuffled after the boy, bobbing around a few strangers until he was inches away from the retreating heels. "Are you cold?" He whispered innocently, throwing his arms around Lovino's chest and cursing when the Italian stopped in his tracks and dug his elbow into the Spaniard's unprotected stomach. "N-not cute," he squeaked out, hunching over as he tried to regain his breath.
"You deserved it," Lovino bit back, jerking his body around to glare at Antonio, "and I'm not supposed to be cute!" He added haughtily.
"Why do you say that?" Antonio choked out, pulling himself back up and pushing Lovino's shoulder lightly as an indication for the boy to turn back around and continue down the dampening sidewalk.
"Guys aren't cute," Lovino replied immediately, digging his hands in his pockets in an effort to conserve heat as he shuffled down the sparsely crowded walkway.
"Really?" Antonio asked lightly, unconsciously bumping into the Italian's slender arm in an effort to sidestep a dark puddle.
"Yeah," Lovino mumbled, defensively moving his arm closer to his body when a warm blush filled his cheeks from the short contact.
"Hmm," Antonio hummed distractedly as he searched the shop signs for a momentary shelter from the bitter weather. "Hey, let's stop in there," He said finally, jerking his thumb towards a crumbling stone building with "General Store" painted on it's worn face in chipped and faded red letters.
"You would pick the crappiest looking building here," Lovino replied bitterly, pushing against Antonio's arm to point them towards the antiquated store.
"Why do you always assume the worst of things just from their appearances?" Antonio asked seriously, reaching forward to pull the heavy wooden door open for the Italian.
"I'm an artist," Lovino snapped back, breath catching in his throat from the musky warmth radiating from the store's interior. "Visual things are supposed to be my specialty or something."
Antonio stepped into the room once Lovino was inside, wiping his feet on the frayed entrance mat before shuffling onto the creaking wooden floor. "You don't really believe that though, do you?" Antonio asked, flicking his vision around at the small groups of browsing consumers lazily combing through racks of heavy winter coats and soft plaid shirts.
"Believe what?" Lovino asked, head feeling numb from the steady buzz of low conversation engulfing the store. "That I'm a visual person?"
"No," Antonio laughed, pulling Lovino's sleeve lightly to encourage the boy to follow him to the back of the room, "what I meant was, you don't think the world is all about appearances." He clarified, chest warming from the strengthening mingled smells of spices and fresh popcorn, "I knew there had to be a food section," he added happily when a wide staircase came into view.
Lovino scoffed and rolled his eyes, "if there was, you'd be the one to find it," he grumbled, wondering if Antonio would understand he hadn't meant it as a compliment.
"I love what I do, what's wrong with that?" Antonio laughed, padding down the creaking stairs and noting curiously at the way the middle sagged slightly from years of use. "Besides, a certain someone caused me to miss lunch."
Lovino felt his heart freeze at the mention of the embarrassing episode, he had hoped the rare moment of emotional candor could go by without mention, but as he watched Antonio browse obliviously through a wrack of mulled spices, he knew the chances of the Spaniard realizing his discomfort without explicit explanation were minimal. "Hey," Lovino said suddenly, shooting his vision around in a panic until he spotted Antonio a few paces away, happily studying a rose-shaped baking tin. "Hey," he repeated, walking towards the Spaniard and waving a hand lightly to catch the distracted boy's attention.
Antonio lifted his head from the tin and hummed in acknowledgment, a contented smile on his lips. "What's wrong, Lovi?"
"Nothing, I-" Lovino hesitated, he had decided this momentary discomfort would be worth it if it meant avoiding the prolonged torture he would inevitably face, but he still dreaded bringing up the uneasy topic of his previous breeches of composure. "It's just that-" he tried again, blood warming the back of his neck and slowly pooling in his round cheeks, "I'm," he bit his lip slightly and turned his face to the floor when a grimace tugged at the corner of his mouth, "I'm sorry." He admitted finally, voice strained and quiet.
Antonio knit his eyebrows in confusion and tenderly placed the metal tin back on its shelf. "What for?" He pressed, resting a hand on Lovino's bicep and shaking it slightly to encourage the boy to turn his vision from the knotted wooden floor. "Hey," he tried again, bending down slightly so he could look up into the Italian's uncomfortable face, "what are you sorry for?"
Lovino stepped back from the Spaniard's grip, barely avoiding running into a passing customer. He turned his head from the floor and glanced at Antonio's concerned face before sighing and rolling his eyes to the corner of the large room, "just for-for the market, a-and the hike, and-and lunch-I'm just-I'm sorry, ok?"
Antonio's eyes softened and a sympathetic smile washed across his tanned features, "You don't have to apologize." He said simply, shuffling past the Italian to study a bag of dried apples.
Lovino bit the inside of his lip and turned on his heel, stomping over to the Spaniard to stare up angrily at his peaceful face, "look, can you just say that you accept it?"
"What?" Antonio teased, lifting the bag above his head and studying the way the yellow light filtered through the thinly sliced apples.
"What do you mean 'what?'" Lovino demanded, "the apology, accept the apology."
"But why would I do that?" Antonio asked, returning the apples to their shelf and picking up a bag of candied grapefruit peels.
Lovino wrenched the bag out of Antonio's hands and slammed it back in its place, "listen to me dammit," he seethed, irritation deepening when he noticed the Spaniard's neutral expression.
Antonio nodded slightly, "ok," he said calmly, "I'm listening."
Lovino cursed the older boy mentally, he couldn't decide if Antonio truly didn't understand why he felt the need to apologize or if he was just egging him on, but either way he could feel his agitation at the situation mounting. "Look," he said finally, vision leveling out on Antonio chest, "I know the day hasn't gone well, and-" he paused, wincing from the effort of his admissions, "it's just that, well, I know it's mostly my fault." When Antonio didn't immediately reply, Lovino turned his eyes hesitantly upward, and he felt his chest tighten at the sight of the Spaniard's seemingly indifferent face.
Antonio hummed quietly for a while, desperately trying to sort out Lovino's motives for apologizing before finally giving up with a shrug, "I guess I just don't understand what there is to apologize for."
Lovino's mouth gaped open as he stared disbelieving at the older boy's face. "You can't be serious," he spat, "how can it not bother you that all your plans for today have been ruined?"
Antonio chuckled slightly and tilted his head, "you really are narrow-minded sometimes, huh?"
"What does that have to do with anything?" Lovino snapped. He knew he was obstinate, he had always known it, yet couldn't deny the pang of hurt that radiated through his chest from being called out for one of his many negative qualities.
"Ah, maybe I didn't say that right," Antonio corrected, waving his hands in front of his chest in an unconscious attempt to wipe his earlier words away. "How do I explain this?" He mumbled to himself, scratching his cheek in contemplation, "it's like this store." He decided finally, "would you have come in here on your own?"
"No," Lovino grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest in frustration, "but what does that have to do with any-"
"But it's nice on the inside, right?" Antonio interrupted, a familiar smile warming his features.
"Yeah, I guess," Lovino admitted easily, turning his head to the wall when the sight of the Spaniard's kind grin sent a familiar warmth into his cheeks.
"Well, it's like that," Antonio explained, "I had plans for the day, sure," he admitted, "but who's to say those plans are better than what's happened?"
"You can't seriously be suggesting shopping by yourself, carrying someone down a mountain and paying for a lunch you didn't get to eat makes a good day." Lovino deadpanned, his humiliation at the events outweighed by his consternation at the Spaniard's suggestion.
"That's the thing," Antonio pressed, peering into the Italian's handsome profile as he willed him to understand what he was saying, "if you say it like that, then yeah, the day sounds kind of crappy." He admitted, "but there's more to it than that."
"What does that even mean?" Lovino groaned.
"Times like these, Lovi, getting to talk to you and learn things about you," Antonio turned his head up to the bug-speckled overhead lights and shrugged, "it's nice."
"That's stupid," Lovino replied immediately, fear, shame and a small flicker of hope all churning in his stomach in an indecipherable mass. "If you're not going to accept my apology then just forget it," he snapped, taking a few steps past Antonio and pausing when a strong hand grabbed his forearm.
"Why are you so dead set on apologizing?" Antonio asked, eyes gleaming innocently.
Lovino didn't turn his head back to Antonio, but he didn't jerk his arm away either. He was tired of being the focus of conversation, he wondered if he had been wrong all these years about his aversion to attention. Maybe his unsociable ways and quick temper were an attempt to make someone realize there was something wrong with him, to clue them in that he wasn't as strong as he let on. After all, if he truly wanted to go through life unnoticed, then wouldn't he try harder to be amicable? Surely people were more apt to forget a person that was somewhat social and somewhat nice, rather than one that was highly isolated and quick to anger. He realized that he had excused his behavior as intentional, when really it was anything but. His actions might have started as a defense mechanism, when he was too young to wrap his head around the idea that no one truly cared for him, but they had slowly become part of his nature. He no longer had the luxury of saying he was intentionally foul to push people away, he was too old to fool himself. He desired love just like everyone else, only his personality was so bleak he could never receive it.
"I-" Lovino said finally, pleased when his voice didn't immediately reflect his emotions, "I don't want to talk about it."
"But then-"
"No," Lovino interrupted, finally pulling his arm out of Antonio's grasp so he could turn and face the confused boy, "you don't understand."
"Ok?" Antonio prompted when Lovino didn't immediately expand on his vague statement.
Lovino sighed and shook his head slightly in a small plea to whatever deity found it so necessary to torture him endlessly, "I'm not talking about the apology. I mean that I don't want to talk about today," he clarified, grimacing in resignation. "I guess it's good that you think the day's been nice," he ground out, "but it hasn't been to me."
"But why not?" Antonio asked immediately, he supposed he already knew the answer, but he had learned never to take anything for granted with the capricious Italian.
"That's the thing," Lovino started in again, rolling his sore shoulders under the weight of his confessions, "I don't want to talk about it."
Antonio studied the small boy silently, uncertain as to the correct course of action. He didn't want to push the issue, not immediately anyway. Lovino had had a trying day as it was, and he knew he couldn't expect to transcend the Italian's barriers in one day, not without destroying the lively spirit that made him so interesting. It was going to be a long process, and if it meant spending more time with Lovino, Antonio was happy to commit himself to it.
"Ok," Antonio relented hesitantly, still unsure if bending to Italian's request was the right thing to do. "If you don't want to talk about it, we don't have to."
"I don't," Lovino reaffirmed, nodding his head for emphasis and slightly relieved that Antonio was willing to drop the subject.
"Well then," Antonio laughed awkwardly, "back to shopping then, huh?"
Lovino nodded, and shuffled past the Spaniard, shocked at the squeaking noise of his feet on the worn wood floor. He didn't remember losing touch with sound, but now that he was worming his way around the displays, the steady sound of soft murmuring and buzzing lights permeating the air, he realized that all he could remember from the past ten minutes was the comfortable timbre of Antonio's voice. "Do you like peach?" A voice sounded close to Lovino's ear, making his shoulders jump from surprise.
"Ah, yeah," Lovino returned quickly, hoping Antonio hadn't noticed his shock.
"Good," Antonio smiled, reaching over the Italian's shoulder to lift a bag of sanded peach hard candies from their rack.
"Let me buy them," Lovino argued, grabbing the bag as it sailed past his face.
"Why?" Antonio laughed, touched by the gesture.
"Because of lunch," he grumbled, aware that he was breaking his own rules, but unwilling to lose the opportunity to release his mind from at least some portion of guilt.
"It's not a big deal-" Antonio started, before peering down at the tired Italian and loosening his hold on the bag, "ok then, if you really want to."
Lovino's fingers tightened around the stiff plastic, "thanks," he mumbled quietly.
Antonio waved a hand dismissively, "but I'm going to buy us drinks, ok?" He grinned, eager to turn the conversation in a more positive direction.
"Fine, but I want water," Lovino agreed, pushing past the Spaniard to make his way to the cash register.
"But Lovi, they have orange soda in glass bottles!" Antonio argued, trailing closely behind the boy.
"So what?" Lovino groaned, placing the crinkled bag of hard candies on the counter and smiling warmly at the old lady behind the register.
"Look, I'll get you water and a soda," Antonio continued, pulling open the cooler next to the door and shivering against the cold air before choosing his drinks and carrying them deftly over to the counter, plucking a small bag of peanuts from the closest display and tossing it next to the beverages.
Lovino shot Antonio an angry look before pocketing his receipt and slumping over to the closest door to watch Antonio make his purchases from a distance. "I told you I didn't want a soda," Lovino seethed when the Spaniard made his way over to him.
"I had to, you'll see," Antonio winked, peering over the Italian to look through the door's fogged window. "Hey, rocking chairs!" He laughed, turning the rusty doorknob and pushing Lovino softly by the small of his back to exit the shop. Antonio plopped into the nearest chair, busying himself with pulling a bottle of soda from his brown paper shopping bag, seemingly unconscious to the cold and hazy weather.
"You've got to be kidding," Lovino groaned, slumping into the seat next to Antonio and folding his arms against his body to conserve warmth. "The weather's too crappy to sit out here."
"It's not so bad," Antonio argued, finally wrenching the cap from it's home and holding the fizzing soda to the Italian, "take a sip of this, won't you?"
"I told you I don't want it," Lovino argued, eyebrows knit from his growing irritation. Antonio only shrugged and brought the drink to his lips, gulping loudly before placing the bottle between his thighs so he could struggle to open the bag of peanuts.
"My grandpa showed me this," he explained once the bag ripped open and he carefully deposited a handful of salty peanuts into the mouth of the bottle. He rested the peanuts back in the paper bag and lifted the drink from his thighs to swirl the concoction around, eyes glistening as he watched the peanuts dance aimlessly in the orange liquid before offering the bottle to the repulsed Italian.
"I definitely don't want it now," Lovino grimaced, leaning away from the drink in disgust.
"C'mon Lovi, please, just try it," Antonio encouraged, thrusting the bottle closer to the boy's clenched hand.
"That's gross," Lovino defended, holding his open palms ahead of his chest.
"Just take a tiny sip, please?" Antonio persisted, it felt so important to share this memory with the Italian. He recalled late afternoons, sitting with his grandfather on their porch in the hot, dewey summer, sharing the drink his grandpa swore was his own secret recipe. It was an act of love, he realized, to pass down something so cherished.
Lovino swatted Antonio's hand away so he could stare the boy in the eyes, "if I try it will you leave me alone?" He relented through gritted teeth.
Antonio nodded and smiled, "of course," he laughed, "it's not like I'm trying to torture you."
"Wouldn't've surprised me," Lovino snapped back sarcastically, wrenching the fizzing bottle from Antonio's hand and eyeing it miserably.
"Just a tiny sip," Antonio encouraged, trying not to snort when Lovino scrunched his eyes together and took a hesitant sample. "Well?" He asked impatiently, pleased that the Italian hadn't immediately thrown the glass to the ground.
Lovino shrugged, he wasn't sure if he actually liked the concoction, the flavor was too new, too unexpected to ascertain a proper reaction on the first taste. He took another sip of the drink, intentionally turning away from the wide smile he knew Antonio would be wearing. "It's not bad," Lovino decided finally, slumping against his seat as he licked the subtle saltiness from his lips.
"I'm glad," Antonio grinned, digging in his bag again to prepare his own drink. "Hey pull out those candies," he said as he struggled to wrench the tight cap from the bottle.
Lovino hummed with acknowledgment, placing his beverage between his legs as he pulled the out the plastic bag and ripped it open. He dipped his nose to the newly-formed opening, cheeks warming from the thick, sweet scent permeating from the peach drops. He pulled out a piece and popped it in his mouth, his tongue salivating immediately from the slight tartness.
"How are they?" Antonio asked as he busily deposited a small handful of salty peanuts into the lid of his drink.
"Good," Lovino replied, trying not to slurp as he spoke, "here," he offered, holding the bag out to the Spaniard. Antonio nodded and took a piece, mumbling a small thanks before popping the candy into his mouth. The two sat in silence for a while, both gazing wistfully at the distant rolling mountains. Lovino felt the world come into sharp focus: the way the hazy gray clouds brushed against the caps of the sloping hills, the soft patter of rain against the tin overhang, the rhythmic squeak of Antonio's rocking chair, and the sweet and floral taste blooming in his mouth, he could feel these things becoming ingrained in his memory. It was a sensation he couldn't explain, but he knew that this moment, in all it's apparent insignificance, would be one he would never forget.
"This is nice, huh?" Antonio asked after a while. Lovino only hummed, hesitant to surrender the comfortable silence. "Hey, Lovi?" Antonio tried again, finally pulling his eyes from the peaceful scenery to address the Italian. Lovino didn't immediately answer, he had come to recognize that tone, it meant Antonio had something on his mind, something potentially painful, or worse, revealing. "Lovi?" Antonio repeated, tilting his head in wonder over the boy's continued silence.
Lovino sighed and rested his head on the back of his chair, eyes wrenched closed in resignation, "what?"
Antonio licked his lips, carefully formulating his words before he continued, "I want to say something, but you don't have to reply," he explained, carefully studying Lovino's expression before continuing. "In fact I don't want you to."
"Then why bother?" Lovino groaned, wishing Antonio would just let him be.
"Because," Antonio paused, considering his words,"I just need you to hear it," he finished lamely.
"Oh so then it's not really for my benefit," Lovino scoffed, rolling his shoulders from annoyance.
"I guess not," Antonio laughed, "sorry."
Lovino rolled his eyes and let out an exaggerated sigh, "just tell me so we can move on." He thumped his head back against the seat, tilting his head slightly towards the sloping mountains. He hoped his disinterest was convincing, in truth his heart was beating madly in his chest, his mind racing with wild theories as to what Antonio's revelation might be.
"I know I'm not supposed to talk about it," Antonio prefaced cautiously, "but I wanted to talk about earlier-" He paused when Lovino folded his arms closer to his chest, he could tell the boy was preparing himself for an attack, but his continued silence was encouraging. "You said that you don't want to talk about past things," Antonio recalled, "and that's fine." He slumped back into his seat and stared wistfully out at the hazy sky. "It's fine, as long as we can keep talking."
"We're talking now, aren't we?" Lovino replied dryly.
"Yeah, I'm not explaining it well," Antonio laughed, combing his fingers through his wavy locks in an effort to sort out his thoughts. "What I mean is, we don't ever have to talk about the past, as long as it doesn't keep us from making a future."
Lovino knit his eyebrows, confused as to what Antonio meant, but unsure if he wanted to press the issue. "I don't underst-"
"Or not even a future," Antonio corrected immediately, "just a present would be fine." He smiled lightly as he lolled his head to the side, watching the Italian in the corner of his periphery. "I just don't want us to stop having nice moments like these."
Lovino didn't reply, he still didn't completely understand, and he didn't know if Antonio meant having nice moments in general or having them together, as a pair. "I don't want that either," he returned after a while, and as he creaked his chair back and forth, bracing himself against the bitter autumn wind, he wasn't sure if he had agreed to the notion of having peaceful moments by himself, or of having them with Antonio.