There he was- his ray of sunshine, his grumpy ball of happiness, and his precious little tomato- Lovino Vargas.

Antonio couldn't suppress the giddy smile on his face as he spotted the Italian. Yes, he was stressed by work lately, and there were fifty shades of black under his eyes. Let's not forget that his hair is nothing but a tangled mess but he forgot about all of those as soon as Lovino appeared.

Antonio headed towards Lovino, practically skipping with a silly smile playing on his lips. "Lovi~!"

When he arrived, he was met with a glare. A familiar intense gaze which he was used to so he blithely ignored it. But deep inside, he missed that kind of look that only Lovino can give.

"Did you come to visit me?" Antonio wasn't expecting a positive reply. But then again, what was there to lose? Hoping doesn't really cost anything as well.

Lovino scoffed, arms crossed. "Why would I visit you, you jerk? Did the tomatoes get to your head?" Well, it was worth a try.

"Oh? Then what is mi Romanito doing here?"

"I told you not to call me that, damn it. And I'm here for... Umm..." Lovino looked around, slightly flustered but the scowl on his face remained. He isn't quite aware that he was nervously fidgeting with his foot. "...A business. I had a business to deal with and I just decided to stop by. You should be grateful, you tomato bastard."

Antonio knew it was more than that but he chose to play along. He doesn't really care why Lovino was there, what mattered is that he came. Oh, he was happy, he was relieved even if it's been four days that he was forced to pull an all-nighter and apparently, only this Italian has the magic to do this. Lovino could curse and insult him all day and it would only brighten up this Spaniard's mood and bring a smile to his face. He was that special to Antonio.

From up close, Antonio noticed that Lovino's lively eyes were dulled and he was paler than usual. You can say that the color was literally sucked out of him! Also, he can't help but feel that something's off. He doesn't know whether it was the troubled look on the Italian's face or the beads of sweat forming on Lovino's forehead but his precious little tomato definitely wasn't alright. And to think that Lovino went all the way to his place in that state.

The smile on the Spaniard's lips melted away and was immediately replaced with a worried look. "Are you okay?"

For a moment, Lovino was thrown off by Antonio's question but he regained his composure quickly. "Of course I am. Heck, where'd that even come from?" Lovino made an effort into being more grumpy. He then angrily muttered, "Stupid jerk..."

Of course, Lovino won't admit that he's not feeling well. Antonio would have to find a way to lighten up the Italian's mood or to at least make him feel slightly better. But before he could even open his mouth, Lovino said, "You're asking me that but have you even looked at yourself?" Placing his hands on his hips, he continued. "You look horrible, you silly bastard."

Antonio blinked rapidly, taken aback by whatever this Italian said before bursting in delight. "Oh! Lovi, you do care!"

"Like hell I would!" The Italian flushed as his pliable curl went rigid. He immediately averted his gaze away from Antonio, embarrassed. "You're just being a delusional asslamp. You need sleep, that's what!"

Well, it seems to be working so Antonio went on, trying to stifle a grin. "Shush, little tomato of mine, that's your illness talking. We should go inside and enjoy some churros." With that, Antonio ushered the flustered Italian to his house.

"Illness? I meant what I fucking said!" Lovino didn't know what to feel. He was embarrased, he was mad, he wanted to laugh-he was simply bemused by this Spaniard's somewhat wacky sense of humour.

Antonio shook his head. Taking the Italian's hands with his own, he said, "No, no, Lovi. Lo siento, but we should continue this conversation when you're all better."

Lovino immediately jerked his hand away. "I'm sure as hell-"

"Shh, not another word, Lovino. I understand, I understand. You're just probably hungry, that's why you're saying that." Antonio kept a serious face on which made it much more difficult for Lovino to suppress his laughter. How stupid exactly is this Spaniard? God, Lovino can't even decide what to call this level of idiocy. There's so many words in English- 1 million fucking words and it's still not enough to describe how much of a fool Spain was being right now. Antonio, on the other hand, was enjoying this.

Lovino's lips were twitching into a smile but he's still struggling to maintain his 'default scowl' and Antonio was making everything harder! He throws his hands up in the air, half-groaning, half-laughing. "I swear to God, this is madness! You're fucking crazy! Thi-this... You're out of your mind, you bastard."

It was this side of Lovino that made Antonio fall for him. His contradicted replies, his unrestrained insults, and most especially, that rare smile. Deciding that he wants to see more of that smile, an idea pops in his mind. An incredibly stupid idea that will somehow work. "This might sound crazy but-"

Lovino rolled his eyes. "Everything you've been saying IS crazy, dammit. What else do you want to say?"

"I think you should catch me because I'm falling. Ay! Falling for you~" The Spaniard winked, following it with a chuckle. He then entwined his hand with Lovino's.

Lovino has never looked so confused. Did Antonio just confess to him? No, that can't be right. Then what was that? Was he actually practicing some pick-up lines on him? That bastard.

Lovino straightaway withdrew his hand from Antonio's hold but the Spaniard stubbornly held on with sparkling eyes. This wasn't really the reaction that Antonio expected to see but seconds later, the Italian's eyes widened in realisation. He looked like he would facepalm any moment but he didn't. Instead, he said, "Well, do you know what I think?"

Antonio's face lit up. Excitement bubbled in his stomach. He eagerly stood up and leant towards Lovino. "What?"

"I think you should shut the fuck up." Lovino walked past Antonio and entered his house but the Spaniard swore he saw that Lovino was smirking.

He ran after the Italian. "Lovi, wait for me! I'm not yet done!"

"I am too fucking sober to deal with your shit, Spain."

Yes, this was his ray of sunshine, his grumpy ball of happiness, his precious little tomato, Lovino Vargas.