The flashback had ended. He looked up at the clock on the wall. The flashback seemed to have lasted hours, but only three minutes, maybe four, had passed. That was days ago, too. And now it was Saturday, which seemed almost impossible. The week had gone by so slowly for Antonio, he wasn't sure he had ever been in a situation that dragged on like this one had.
And what about Lovi? How had his week been? Had he been thinking of Antonio? Maybe he forgot about the evening he said he would spend with the spaniard. Maybe he had already forgotten Antonio's name. Why the hell was this happening? He shouldn't have been questioning himself, he really shouldn't have, but as he stared down at his shaking hands, he couldn't help but feel nervous about what could happen tonight. He stood up and backed away from the bed, hoping that moving around a little would give him the courage he needed to go back to the bakery to see Lovino. Why was this something that made him nervous? He had done worse than this before. He had been in situations where a normal man would have been paralyzed with fear and jittering nerves. But this was different.
"My God, what is wrong with me?" Antonio stepped out of his room and peered at the staircase. His chest seemed to lift. "I can do this. Yo puedo hacer esto por el~." He lifted one foot onto the top step. Then another, proceeding downward. Until finally, he had done it. He was at the front door. He was outside. His hand was resting on his horse. His fingers were entangled in the reins and he was hoisting himself onto the saddle. He clutched onto the horse as it sped off towards the bakery.
.
"Lovi, why do you need the night off? We were going to bake tonight so that we wouldn't have to wake up so early to bake in the morning. And you always like it when we bake together, I thought," Roma said. He was already taking out the ingredients while Feliciano was cleaning off the counters and pulling out bowls while humming to himself, clearly lost in his own little world. Lovino sighed. "Grandpa, I just thought I'd go out for once. Aren't you the one who always says I don't get out enough? Now I am. So I'd appreciate it if you could-"
"You're going alone?" Of course Grandpa Roma was going to question him. He felt foolish for thinking he wouldn't. Lovino crossed his arms and cleared his throat. "No, Grandpa Roma." Grandpa Roma opened his mouth to say something, but Lovino cut him off with, "The Spaniard. The bastard wanted to show me the city." Roma's eyes lost their shine and his throat went dry.
"Lovino, he seemed like a good man, yes, but do we really know enough about him to be sure he isn't one of them? He could-" Grandpa Roma kept talking, but Lovino wasn't listening. He tied his faded red cloak around his neck and pulled on his only pair of boots, lacing them with great care as to not break the laces like he had done last time.
Ding!
The golden bell above the front door rang. Someone was in the bakery. Lovino looked up from his stool behind the counter. His eyes met the eyes of Antonio, who looked paler than he had for some reason. The bastard had probably caught a cold. "You ready, bastard?" Antonio smiled and opened the door for Lovino, who scowled at the gesture before accepting it and walking outside. The sun was still in the sky, but it was steadily lowering. The moon was already up, though no stars were out yet. "Where the hell are you taking me, tomato bastard? And are we going to walk or what?"
Antonio laughed light-heartedly and stepped up onto his horse. "Where we're going is a surprise. Come on, Lovi." Lovino squinted at the Spaniard before stepping towards the horse. They didn't have a horse. They couldn't afford to keep up with one. He hadn't ridden one since before his mother died. He gulped and gawked at the creature, unsure of where to place his hands. He rested one on the neck of the horse, desperately grasping to the short hairs. This horse was a lot larger than any he had ever been on. Or seen. He looked for somewhere on the saddle to grab onto while Antonio let out a small chuckle. Lovino gritted his teeth. "What the fuck are you laughing at, idiota?" Antonio wasn't taken aback at all. He reached a hand out to Lovino, who watched warily. "Take my hand, Lovi."
Lovino examined the large, white-gloved hand. He didn't want to be helped by him. But he wasn't getting on the horse without Antonio's help. And where would he sit on the horse? He hadn't really thought about that. A small blush spread across his cheeks as he gulped and lifted his hand. "Wait a minute, bastard. Where am I supposed to sit?" Antonio grinned and raised his eyebrows slightly. "Behind me?" Lovino sneered and rested his hands on his hips. "Why should I be the one who has to sit in the back?" Antonio hadn't really expected that. He expected Lovino to not want to sit in either places. "Well, Lovi, you can sit in front of me and drive the horses if you'd like."
"Stop calling me Lovi, dammit," he said as he finally took the Spaniards hand. It was very warm, even through the glove. It felt amazing on Lovino's freezing hands. He almost let out a sigh, but caught himself just as his lips parted to do so. He was pulled up onto the horse, and to his surprise, he was placed in front. His eyes widened. "I don't know how to drive a fucking horse, bastard. I-I don't know what the hell I'm doing." Antonio let out one of his light laughs at this.
"You could start by taking the reins," he said. He looked down at Lovino. He enjoyed having him this close. He had an interesting scent. He smelled a bit like slightly burnt bread and fresh flowers. His eyes rested on his thin neck. It was pale naturally and marbled because of the cool air. The base of the back of his neck was very lightly covered in bronze coloured peach fuzz. It took everything Antonio had to not bury his face in Lovino's neck. He looked away with a deep, shuddering breath.
"Adelante."
The horse started, causing Lovino's head to slam backwards into the bastards chest. "Dannazione! Che diavolo? Bastardo! Come ti permetti?" Lovino was muttering visciously under his breath, but Antonio still had that damn smile. Lovino would have rubbed the back of his head if he wasn't holding onto the reins. He wondered how that bastard was able to stay on the horse without holding onto anything. Arrogant bastard. "I'm so sorry, Lovi. Is your head alright?" Antonio ran his fingers lightly over the back of Lovino's head. Lovino instinctively shivered, then returned to pouting. "Yeah, it's fine, idiota. Just don't do it again."
They rode a little ways. Lovino was constantly aware of the spaniards presence. He could feel his torso on his back occasionally, like when they stopped or the horse became jumpy. He was not a very soft man. He was as sturdy as Grandpa Roma. Almost. "Lovi, I'm going to take the reins from here," Antonio said. He leaned forward and took the reins, his arms surrounding Lovino, who shifted around on the saddle, his eyes widening at the arms to his left and right. They were comforting, but only because he knew that he couldn't fall off with the arms blocking the sides of the horse.
It reminded him of his father. He would go to Rome to see him every so often. This was one of the very few memories he had left with his father in it. He remembered going to the synagogue one day and riding on his fathers horse with him. You're the oldest, Lovino. You can control this horse, can't you? Of course you can, figlio. He was hoisted up onto the horse. Was it black? Or brown? He couldn't remember. But he could remember his fathers arms around him, controlling the reins. At the time, though, he thought that he was the one controlling the beast. His fathers hands had been there the entire time. He almost fell off that day, too, but the arms restricted him from doing so. They were postioned like Antonio's. That day had been good.
The horse stopped. The arms were no longer at his sides. He heard the bottom of Antonio's boots hit the stone streets. "Can you get down?" He realized he shouldn't have asked that when those amber eyes shot daggers at him and those pouting lips curled up into a disgusted sneer. "I can do it myself," Lovino said, his chest puffing out and his nose turning up.
The Italian landed on the ground with a thud. And no, he didn't land on his feet. His foot had caught somewhere on the saddle, he dangled for about a second, then fell on his back. Thank God Antonio hadn't seen him dangling there. "Lovi, are you alright? Are you hurt?" Antonio kneeled at his side and lifted Lovino enough so that he could sit up. Lovino was horrified that the bastard had to see him like this. His face was red and splotchy by now, he just knew it. "Of course I am, bastard. That was nothing," Lovino said. He stood and dusted himself off. Antonio did the same. He smiled down at Lovino, satisfied that the boy was fine. But his smile faltered.
Relief. He felt so much relief at knowing Lovino wasn't in pain. He wasn't acting or faking the concern. Nothing fake could make him feel what he felt when he thought that Lovino might have been hurt. He looked down in shame for a moment, wondering how the hell he was going to turn Lovino in. He wasn't spending time with Lovino for himself, he was doing it because it was his job. He was going to have to turn him in. There was no way around it.
"Tomato bastard, where are we?" Lovino crossed his arms and raised his eyebrows. Antonio smiled. "You told me that you used to go to gallery's in Italy. So I thought you'd like to see a Spanish one."
Yes. He was going to have to turn the Italian in. But not today.
Lovino's eyes lit up for a moment, then went dull again. "Whatever. I guess that would be alright." Lovino walked quickly up the steps to the gallery. In fact, Antonio had never seen him move so fast. He was clearly hiding his excitement.
The Gallery was very large and very beautiful. Many well-dressed people were there, and Lovino felt underdressed for the occasion. But nothing could spoil this for him. He wouldn't let anything ruin the wonder the room held. Antonio watched. Lovino truly took in each painting, finding something to admire about each one. It reminded him so much of home and so much of his mother. She had loved painting. Lovino loved painting as well, but he couldn't afford to do it anymore. The materials were far too pricey and he wasn't good enough to sell his work. Maybe he could be a painter in another life. He passed many paintings until he stopped on a small, bright one. It was of a field of yellow flowers with a stream running right through and the most beautiful blue sky. His heart stopped when he looked at the field. He reached his hand up to the painting.
It was so lovely. So much like his Italy it almost hurt. He wanted to run his fingertips over the small, painted flowers. He wanted to be able to breathe in the painting and smell the fresh blossoms in Spring. His hand hovered over the canvas, wanted so desperately to rest over the art piece, but that would have been rude. He knew how hard this artist had worked. He wondered if it was supposed to be Italy. He doubted it. But on the other hand, he was sure that there was no place in Spain that looked like that.
He wished it was possible to live in a painting. If that were possible, he would have dived head first into this one. He looked for a name somewhere near the painting, but there wasn't one to be seen. "Lovi? Are you alright?" Lovino's eyes shot up to Antonio's. "Why the hell wouldn't I be, b-bastard?" Tears rolled down his cheeks and fell onto his shirt. How long had he been crying?
"Lovino, I didn't think this would make you feel so much sadness," Antonio said, ashamed of himself for thinking this would be a good idea. Lovino crossed his arms. "I'm not sad at all," he said sadly with a sad expression. People in the gallery were staring at them now. The women seemed to be especially moved. Antonio took Lovino's hand. Surprisingly, Lovino didn't pull away. He lead him back outside with a comforting smile on his lips. "I guess this wasn't such a good idea, Lovi. I apologize for wasting your time. I truly do. And I would understand if you-"
"Shut up, stupid bastard," Lovino said. "Don't be sorry. I actually wanted to, uh," he paused to swallow the lump building in his throat, "to thank you. For showing me this." Lovino pulled his hand away and started for the horse. He managed to climb up onto the saddle himself with much effort. Antonio did it in one swift motion. Show off. Lovino decided it was probably best if he stay in the back this time. When the horse started forward, he clutched onto Antonio, a blush spreading evenly across his cheeks as he did so. He felt so warm.
Antonio didn't seem to mind, though. Lovino wanted to rest his cheek on the spaniards back, but he didn't want to intrude. When they got back to the bakery, Antonio, surprisingly, stepped off the horse. He took Lovino's hand, which the Italian let him do, as he didn't have the energy to argue, and helped him off the horse. He didn't fall this time.
"Lovi, I enjoyed myself tonight. I enjoyed seeing you react to the paintings. You look beautiful when you smile." Lovino froze and his eyebrows furrowed. "I smiled at some of the paintings? Why didn't you tell me, bastard?" Antonio chuckled and walked Lovino to the door. "I didn't want you to stop. It was more interesting to look at than the paintings." Lovino crossed his arms, a faint smile forming on his lips. "Lovino, I would really like to see you again. If you don't mind after what happened tonight."
Lovino scoffed. "Are you kidding, bastard? I don't want to go with you again except for maybe once or twice a week if I'm in a good mood." Antonio grinned at the wording and nodded. "Of course, Lovi," he said. They looked at eachother, waiting for one to say goodbye. Antonio had always been one to take initiative. He pulled Lovino's hand away from his body, uncurled his slender fingers, and kissed his hand, though not the back of his hand. That was something he did when he was trying to be polite to a woman. Lovino was far different. Antonio kissed his palm, then curled the fingers back into a fist again for him. "Goodnight, Lovi."
He didn't wait for Lovino's reaction. He climbed back on the horse and took off. But, as he was leaving, he could have sworn that he saw Lovino reopen his palm and press it to his cheek.
To Be Continued . . . .