Wowee I can't believe how much positive feedback this is getting! I'm so glad you guys are liking it. I really think you'll like this chapter, just saying ;) But yea, thank you all so much for the feedback. It makes me happy to see it :D
The intoxicating aroma of coffee beans mixed with bittersweet chocolate swirled through the air of the quaint coffee shop in which Lovino was currently sitting in. Everything was silent save for the chime of the little bell that announced each time a new customer came through the door, which was few and far between. That was precisely the reason why the young author chose to come here. He enjoyed the peaceful serenity found within the strong odors and small amount of people. It was like a home away from home where he could escape the confines of himself and interact with society without actually having to talk at all.
Seeing that Lovino's house wasn't exactly in the best of states after his temper fit, he thought it best to pay a visit to the coffee shop he'd been recently neglected for his reclusive ways. He sat tucked away in the same dark corner he always sat in with a stack of papers and his feather quill, multitasking jotting down lines with watching the tumultuous storm raging beyond the window panes. A warm, white sweater hung loosely off his thin frame and he sighed back into the chair, snuggling his arms around his waist to shield off some of the cold.
Today really was the perfect day for writing. The coffee kept the Italian's mind energized and creating scenarios faster than his hand could write and the steady thumping of the rain providing enough white noise to keep his over-active imagination somewhat grounded. Whenever he'd hit a mind block in his work, this shop was the always the fix. Ideas seemed to spiral from every corner when he was holed up at his table. It had even progressed so much that the owner had jokingly inscribed 'Lovino's' on the back of the chair.
With the quill tip freshly inked and his imagination full steam ahead, Lovino set the pen to the paper and let the words flow forth.
That is until the front door slammed open, letting water and cold air rush inside immediately shattering the calm atmosphere that was previously in place. A figure stepped inside, pausing to shake his soaking brunette hair, sending droplets splattering onto Lovino's pristine white pages. The author merely rolled his golden orbs in slight annoyance before returning his focus to the task at hand. It wasn't until the figure spoke that his brain paid closer attention to just whom had walked into the fateful shop.
"That's one crazy storm blowing out there, isn't it?" the man spoke walking up to the counter presumably to place an order. At the sound of his voice, Lovino's head shot up, his curiosity aroused. He recognized that voice from somewhere. The smooth tone wasn't one that was easily forgotten. The only problem was he couldn't remember where he'd heard it. Nonchalantly leaning on his left elbow, the young lad trained his hearing on their conversation in order to remember why the voice was familiar.
"You got that right. With the way the winds are blowing, you'd think it was the end of the world or something," Tino, the shop owner, laughed good-naturedly, "Now what can I get you to drink? Pick anything you like. It's on the house."
"No, I couldn't possibly just take something from you like that," the stranger responded in a shocked tone. Tino held up his hands adamantly.
"You're soaked to the bone. A free cup of coffee is the least I could do to help you warm up."
"Well alright then. Thank you very much," said the man, gratitude lacing his voice, "I'll just have a small mocha."
"Sure thing. Coming right up," the waif-like owner said and then walked off to make the drink.
By the time the conversation ended, Lovino still hadn't pieced together why the girl was familiar. He was about ready to give up and resume work on his story when the maroon sweater-clad figure turned around and he was met with the same piercing emerald eyes he'd seen the previous day. As recognition clicked in his brain, the author tried to avert his gaze but, unfortunately for him, not before the other man saw him looking.
"Hey, aren't you that author that was being interviewed yesterday?" Antonio asked, traipsing over to the brunette's self-claimed space. Lovino winced at his stupidity and pretended that he didn't hear. That didn't keep the singer from persisting in his pestering though as he stopped right in front of the younger lad's table, letting his bag plop onto the opposite chair.
"Did you hear me?" he questioned again. This time Lovino lifted his head, an innocent expression taking over his boyish features. He could no longer ignore the man now that he was… wait, why was he sitting down? Why was this random person whom he'd only ever seen one day ago sitting into the other chair at the table?
"I asked if you were that author guy who was being interviewed on television yesterday?"
"Um, yeah," Lovino nodded, a bit flustered from the unfolding situation, "Yeah that's me. The author guy." Antonio flashed his shining white teeth that contrasted perfectly against his warm skin. The younger lad couldn't help but become entranced but the sheer beauty.
"I thought you looked familiar. I'm Antonio Fernandez Carriedo from the Bad Touch Trio. We were interviewed right after you were," the pop-star introduced himself, holding out a hand. Lovini shook it politely and timidly smiled.
"Lovino Vargas. But yeah, I know who you are. Famous boyband and whatnot."
"Oh the perks of being famous," Antonio jokingly rolled his warm eyes. Lovino let out a giggle before casting his own eyes downward in embarrassment for what he'd just done. Not a moment later he felt a hand underneath his chin slowly titling his head back up. Electrical tremors resonated from the contact and his heart involuntarily sped up. Lovino was now locked in a gaze with the man he'd thought he'd been in love with only yesterday, a ocean of green swirling in a pool of gold.
"Chin up, Lovi," Antonio quipped, easily sliding into the use of a nickname, "I think your laugh is adorable." A smirk bloomed on the author's rosy lips.
"Shut up, bastard," he blushed and swatted Antonio's hand away.
Their playful antics were soon stopped, though, by Tino smacking down the singer's coffee on the table before him. Startled, the pair looked up and the shop owner chuckled loudly.
"Do my eyes deceive me or is Lovino Vargas actually being social?" Tino wondered aloud in a mocking tone. The author's cheeks immediately burned brighter crimson as his eyes flew wide in shock. Antonio furrowed his eyebrows in confusion.
"What do you mean?" he asked, darting his gaze between the two other men.
"Consider yourself lucky," Tino disclosed much to Lovino's horror, "Because you're the first person I've seen this kid talk to in months." The Italian's hands shot up to cover his steadily growing humiliation, as Antonio's confusion remained plastered on his face.
"Lovino? No, he's been a right laugh since I've sat down," the singer responded, not taking the shop owner seriously. Tino held up his hands in defense and grinned sheepishly.
"I'm serious! This is a regular spot of his and he always sits at the same table and writes away. The only other person I've seen you talk to, Lovino, is that twin of yours you come with occasionally. Other than that, not a word. But I guess being a writer makes you somewhat reclusive or something."
"You don't say," Antonio trailed off with an intrigued and somewhat puzzled expression on his visage.
At this point the silent author decided he'd had enough. It was time for this conversation to end. He removed the shielding hands from his face and trained those deadly eyes on the petite shop owner.
"Tino, stop it now," Lovino threatened in a low tone, warning rumbling deep in his throat.
"I'd s'ggest y'd stop, T'no," said the shop's other owner as he walked by, "Y'know how violn't L'vino gets when he's mad." Tino simply shrugged, recognizing the angry mood, and followed the bespectacled blonde back to the counter where another woman was waiting to have her order taken.
"Aww, you don't have to be embarrassed, Lovi," Antonio reassured him with sympathetic eyes, "It's fine if you're quiet most of the time. Quiet people are actually quite interesting when they finally open up."
"You need to leave," Lovino scowled at the table, his insecurities morphing into pure rage.
"What?"
"You need to go. Now," Lovino growled even louder to get the point across. Antonio snorted.
"I heard what you said you," he chuckled, "But why?"
Why? Why was he completely shutting down and going into hermit mode? Perhaps it was because the minute he tried to open up, he was immediately shot back down. Or perhaps it was because he was trying to write a story that his publisher wanted due by the end of the year and October was already fast approaching with not even the first chapter completed. But more than likely it was because he had just been entirely humiliated in front of the flawless man whom he had slipped into a fit of fury and trashed his house over just yesterday. And the saddest part? He still didn't know this guy. So why was he letting himself become so emotional over a stupid sack of flesh and bones?
"I don't feel like talking, bastard," Lovino mumbled, casting his gaze downwards to the blank paper before him. This annoying pop star needed to leave soon. If he didn't start producing words, his publisher will drop him faster than a hot stone.
"You can stop being defensive right now. I can see past that so easily," Antonio bluntly stated, "Don't pay any attention to the owner guy. I'm sure he didn't mean any harm by it. Don't let some misspoken words hurt you so easily. Besides, being quiet is so cute."
Lovino froze, unable to move a muscle because he'd basically just been called out. No one had ever seen past his barriers and spoken exactly what he was trying to hide. The strange singer hadn't even been here five minutes, yet had already accomplished far more than the author's friends had in several years.
The brunette coughed lightly to cover up his shock and shrugged.
"Well then if you want to stay, fine. But that doesn't mean I have to talk to you," he said and then dipped his quill into the uncapped pot of ink waiting on the right side of the table. He could feel those doe-like eyes tracking his every move as sentences began flowing onto the page, finally spinning a story that he was proud of.
In this moment, Lovino was utterly in his element. All sounds of the atmosphere around him dwindled into a distant buzz and the only thing receiving his attention were the ink-written characters blossoming to life. Creativity was spilling from every crevice of the young man's mind as the shackles of writer's block that had bound him for weeks shattered and his imagination was set wild. Moments like this was what Lovino lived for and nothing could stop him from finishing this…
"Lovino? You went quiet all of a sudden. Are you alright?"
Antonio's voice collided into the author's thoughts with the force of a steam engine. Lovino squeezed his eyes tightly shut, willing himself to stay on track. He couldn't afford to slip out of a creative streak like the one he was experiencing.
Stay strong, Lovino. Don't pay any attention to what he's saying. It's probably irrelevant anyways. He is in a boyband after all.
With a shake of his head, the author regained control and put the pen back to the paper. Now where was he? Ah, yes. Hungary was actually hooking up with Austria's enemy but neither of them knew it and…
"Hey, why do you use that feathery thing? There is such a thing as a ball-point pen, you know."
Ignore him, Lovino. You're stronger than this. Concentrate on the story. What are they seeing, hearing, and feeling? Immerse them in details…
"Can't you say something? It's getting rather boring over here," Antonio mused, pouting at the golden-eyed lad. In one fell swoop, Lovino's deep concentration cracked and he snapped his head up to glare angrily at the singer.
"For fuck's sake, could you please shut up? I'm trying to work here," he snarled, gesturing sharply to the pages before him.
"I just want some conversation!" Antonio protested, his emerald orbs widening in innocence, "I'm trying to give you genuine company." Lovino rolled his eyes.
"I never said I wanted your company," he muttered.
"Ah, but your actions speak louder than your words," Antonio smirked, "You were talking to me which, from what Tino said, is quite a giant leap for you."
The author sighed, shaking his head and several strands of dark hair fell into his face. He blew them back into place, licked his lips, and returned his gaze to the persistent man sitting opposite him. Antonio had a point and seeing as he probably wasn't going to leave until they had a proper conversation, the author would simply have to acquiesce to the situation. Besides, no matter how much he denied it, Lovino truly did enjoy talking to him.
"Alright fine," the author sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose with two fingers, "You talk and if I find the topic of any worth, I'll try to respond."
"Wow, you're a right charmer, huh?" Antonio laughed, but showed no sign of annoyance, "Okay, I know this is a topic you can't resist talking about: tell me about your new story."
Lovino smiled to himself. He should've seen that one coming. Nonetheless, though, he set down the quill and good-naturedly began to explain a brief synopsis of his book in progress.
"There's this girl, well, nation really," he divulged, "I write the nations as if they were actual people. Hungary is her name and she's on this trip to Berlin to spy on the country for her own government. Except, she hates politics and government and would do anything to get away from it. Then she meets Prussia who is also a nation and he is, like, perfect in her eyes. He's carefree and hilarious and happy. Basically the complete opposite of her husband, Austria. So one night she and Prussia randomly meet at a bar together and then they go back to his place and you know the drill. They fall into this horrible no-strings-attached relationship and she loves him but she also has a husband. In the end, everything works out and they ride off into the sunset, happily ever after, yadda yadda yadda."
Lovino stopped himself short, knitting his brows together in surprise. He had no idea why he'd gone on for that long about his prototype story to Antonio. That was the most he'd spoken in quite a long time and it felt almost like dust was being blown off his vocal chords. The author hated to admit it, but it was nice to be having human interaction instead of conversing with paper and ink.
"Hmm, interesting," Antonio murmured, sending Lovino out of his thoughts. He frowned.
"Do you not like the sound of it?"
"To be honest, no," the singer truthfully answered. Lovino blinked once in utter shock. No one had ever been that blunt with him before.
"W-what? Bastard," he dumbly spluttered out.
"I'm just saying that I probably wouldn't read that," the singer reiterated, "Sorry to disappoint."
"But why? I mean, I spent forever planning this out!" Lovino yelped, hurt that someone had degraded his carefully thought out work. Antonio paused a moment to stroke his chin before answering the question.
"For one, the story-line is way too predictable. No-strings-attached? Super cliché. And the characters are stereotypical. I'm guessing Austria is tall, dark, and handsome?" Before Lovino could protest, Antonio was already carrying on with his rough analysis. "I mean, don't get me wrong, it's a good storyline but it doesn't scream National Best-Seller. Do something more creative, more meaningful."
Recoiling back in disgust, Lovino wrinkled his nose and let out an incensed huff. How dare some mass-produced pop star tell him that his story was stereotypical? Lovino Vargas never wrote stereotypical and his work was always beyond average. This airhead bastard didn't even have a clue what he was talking about. In fact, he was probably just jealous that his work was far less meaningful than the author's.
"Oh that's rich coming from some bubble-gum pop artist bastard," Lovino sarcastically shot back, crossing his long arms over his lanky chest. Antonio took on a dramatic pout.
"Aww Lovi, no need to be rude. I was just voicing my own opinion," he calmly tried to explain but the Italian was already done with talking.
"Your opinion is irrelevant considering you only know how to write about seducing women and getting wasted," he barked while beginning to gather the loose pages and pack up his things.
"First off, I'm not trying to seduce women. And secondly, just because I'm a pop star doesn't mean I can't be meaningful," Antonio countered, their argument escalating with every passing second. The tenseness in the air was tangible and fire was brimming in the their eyes. With a bang, Lovino pushed in his chair and stalked toward the exit.
"I can't even believe I wasted my time on someone as inconsequential as yourself," he snapped, the haughty side taking over to hide his true emotions.
Antonio slumped back into his chair, a curl flopping dejectedly into his doe-eyes. Lovino had never seen such genuine hurt displayed on a human before and it almost broke his heart to know that he was the cause of it. Yet despite the desperate emotion showed by the man, he turned back around and resumed his journey for the exit.
"You know, I'd heard stories about you before we met today," Antonio's sweet voice piped up from behind, "Everyone said you were an arrogant jerk, but I wanted to prove them wrong. I thought they were just being rude. But you know what? They were right, Lovino."
For a moment, the author's thin hand resting on the brass doorknob paused and his body motioned to turn around. He wanted nothing more than to go back to the singer and show him that he was not some reclusive snob like everyone thought he was. Never before had he cared what anyone thought of him, but the thought of Antonio having a bad opinion about him sent stabs of pain through his heart.
So for a second, he thought about returning to that gorgeous man behind him and setting everything right. That idea was soon blown to pieces when his egotistical pride took charge and forced him from turning back around. His feet moved against his will and he no longer was in control of his body. Lovino gave the knob a twist and, without a single look back, walked out of the coffee shop leaving the broken pop star behind.
Dammit Lovi, why u no have moar patience!? Yea sorry guys, I really like angst so I hope you do too! See you next chapter :)