BANZAI~ I'm back *throws confetti in the air*. Thank you all so much for the encouragement through oyur PMs and reviews. You don't know how much encouragement it was for me~
This fic is for a support to my statement in my other stories' hiatus status. I said that I'll be back at August 1st, and I am. The other chapters for my four fics will be updated by Sunday~ I'm not just gonna put a hiatus status and end up forgetting about them~
So, anyways, the idea of this fic it my... headcanon? My breakdown of how Spain's character's insecurities/struggles/personality came to be/is. Please, don't take the idea without asking. This fic is partically dedicated to Miss TiffanyTragic, since this came up when we were RP-ing~
Give a heads up to BwaBwaimagoat for beta-ing this for me~ Thank you~
Disclaimer: ヘタリア: Axis Powers によって所有されている日丸屋秀和
Antonio disliked the silence.
He could remember back during the days in his Conquistador phase, when he killed without a blink of an eye and painted entire cities red, silence was the way the world told him that it doesn't care. The silence was the world's way of ignoring him. The way the world showed him that there's no one here for him, no one to care about, and no one to notice you…
And as time went by, it just simply tore him apart, bit-by-bit. The dead ghosts of the past coming back, haunting him with what he had done…
Not that he would tell Lovino any of that…
Maybe that's why he had come to have such a friendly, cheerful personality. Maybe it was because he needed that connection with the others…
The feeling that someone knows that he is here, the feeling that there's someone there, the feeling that there's something that he could grasp onto so that he won't be forgotten, as the footsteps of time wipes everything and everyone else away from him.
Whether it was hate, friendship, rejection, acceptation… he accepted France's sexual molestations, his boss's disappointments, others taking advantages of him… Romano's insults…
Romano's blows, Romano's words…
He could bear through those things, any of those things but silence.
When it's silence… it's like the world had cut off all connections to him, leaving him alone, leaving him forgotten.
That's what the silence felt like.
It had been 22 hours and 37 minutes since the start of Lovino's silent treatment.
The warm air swept through the house with a calm breeze, and the ceiling fan circled lazily above the Spaniard as his arms were draped carelessly over the edges of the couch, not bothering to move them to get into a more comfortable position. His green eyes, his usual bright green eyes, now portrayed a dull hue, signaling that his mood is now in a lower setting than it typically is.
Closing his eyes, he omitted an unnatural, and frustrated, sigh. His fingertips grazed against the cool, hard floor, and his bare chest was covered in a thin layer of sweat from the humid summer air, drowning him in the lukewarm sensation of the warm temperature.
All he could hear was the rustling of trees outside and the whirling of the fan. Around, and around, and around, and around.
Not a thing of the Italian.
A new sound was joining the fusion of the noises…
His eyes brightened up as he slowly recognized the quiet sound of footsteps approaching the living room, and he immediately sat up. His feet settled on the tiles that were practically radiating calm, soothing waves, and bounded towards the opening of the living room that connected it to the hallway.
Emerging first was the sleek, hazel curl. Then followed the weary looking Italian, with a few smears of earth streaked across one of his cheeks and his face flushed, heated from the continuously rising temperature that the afternoon was bringing. A smile founded its way to the Spaniard's face, and he brightened up as the Italian walked towards his direction.
"Lovi! Where did you g-…"
His words faltered as the Italian briskly walked past him, not even sparing him a glance, and strolled into the kitchen. The brightness that Antonio had managed to mask on for the split second was wiped off, and the corners of his lips fell with the weighted hurtfulness of the action that Lovino had done.
Or rather, what the Italian had not done.
It's like he doesn't even recognize his existence anymore.
This silent treatment had started yesterday. The reason, he did not know.
Soft sounds of dicing tomatoes could be heard, and Antonio trudged to the kitchen, looking wearily at the backside of the silent Italian, his fingers curling in towards the center of his palms as his confusion and frustration grew.
A genuine smile attempted to form on his face as he stepped into the kitchen, but it only appeared as slight quirk of his lips as he approached the shorter Italian man. A slight twitch came from the younger nation as Spain's hand gripped his shoulders, but other than that no other movement was given in response to the Spanish man.
"Lovi, do you need any help?" he asked with a tentative voice, putting on more convincing smile, and pulled the Italian's shoulder closer to him so that Lovino's face could be seem. A slight flash of recognition flittered through the sea of amber, but was quickly withdrawn away as the owner of the eyes also did so.
Talk to me, recognize me…
Silence dwelled between the two of them as Antonio's hand slowly slipped from his perch upon the Italian's shoulders, and the sound of dicing tomatoes returned steadily, taking over the silence. The Spaniard rubbed his arms awkwardly, a wry smile on his face, and just stood there silently while the Italian moved swiftly around the kitchen, gathering the things that he needed.
Without even hitting the Spaniard, Lovino had just caused a crack in Antonio's heart.
And that crack was spreading.
Things after that were not getting any better.
Somehow, the younger nation had avoided every attempt to make him respond that Antonio had tried to perform on him ever since the incident in the kitchen. He would hurry out of the room as soon as Antonio steps foot in it… try to avoid all form of connection with the Spanish man…ignore the man's words whenever he heard them…
Antonio was slowly losing something to grasp onto…
Romano had hit him, kicked him, insulted him… whether the temperamental man was feeling well or not, the Italian had never failed to make any sort of response back at the Spanish man.
But he had never given him the silent treatment before…
What had caused the change?
And, in the middle of the Italian's dinner, Lovino had just walked out of the house without finishing his meal, surprising the Spanish man. He had just suddenly put down his fork and stood up from his chair, wiped the corners of his mouth, ignored Antonio's presence, and walked calmly out of the back door.
Lovino had never not finished food that he made himself…
It just makes Antonio wonder.
What did I do wrong?
It had been about two hours until Romano came home.
And Antonio could smell the familiar scent of roses as soon as the Italian walked through those doors, despite him sitting in front of the television in the dark, save the light being emitted by the screen, all the way across the room.
Antonio glanced at the figure behind him through the reflection of the immense glass window next to the television, and stared at the Italian as he made his way to the kitchen and flicked on the lights, lighting up one side of the huge room, before grabbing the plate of cold pasta and shoving it into the microwave.
His lingering gaze seemed to be noticed by Romano, but the Italian made no move to signal Spain that he knew Antonio was watching him.
The scent of roses
Antonio took a long moment to debate whether or not to bring his question up.
And in the end, his immense curiosity got the better end of him.
"Why did you go to France, Lovi?"
Spain could see Romano's whole body tense up before cautiously standing up, and Antonio rapidly whipped his head around while flipping himself over the back of the couch in the process.
Everything was a blur.
It took only three wide steps to reach the Italian, and three more to bring him back to the couch, where the light from the television casted a blue hue around them. Spain sat Romano down on the couch before sitting down himself, and held onto the younger country's hands while doing so.
"Lov-Lovi! Oye! Look at me!" his hand grabbed the Italian's face, and turned it so that Lovino would look at him. His eyes searched frantically into the pools of amber in the man's eyes, looking for anything that he could grasp onto.
Look at me.
The tingling sensation traveled up from his hands where he grasped the Italian, and he ignored the burning feeling settling in his heart, trying to focus on reading the man in front of him.
"I thought you hated France…"
Anything. Please, something.
Avoiding his stare once again, Lovino swiftly maneuvered out of his grasp, to the disappointment of Spain, and tried to make his way towards the hallway.
Without a second though, Antonio's hand immediately caught the Italian's before he could escape, preventing him from leaving, and pulled the Italian's arm down towards him, a worried expression looking so out of place on his face.
"Lovi, you're driving me mad. Why are you not speaking to me? What happened?"
The Italian looked blankly past him, towards the wall behind the man, and avoided any eye contact with the Spanish nation. The concerned look that Antonio had clashed oh-so-harshly with the ignorance of the Italian, and Spain could only sigh as no action was made to escape his grasp.
Normally, he would be happy if Lovi would be like this, letting him hold his hand without struggling.
But normally, Lovino would've already slapped him and storm out of the room with a blush on his face.
And none of those three things had happened so far.
It feels like he's ignoring him with every ounce of energy he's got…
"Lovino Vargas, why?" he whispered, though knowing that the Italian would not response to his words, and pulled the Italian closer towards him. His other hand went up to Lovino's face, and once again turned it so that it was facing him.
Hopeful green reaching for unfocused gold.
I need a connection, Lovino.
And so, using his last resort, he crushed his lips against Lovino.
Truthfully, Lovino hadn't expected this to happen.
His mind had had gone completely blank the moment that the Spaniard had crushed its lips against him, connecting the two with a seal that held the Italian in his half crouched, half standing, place.
Then flood of a burning sensation came, gripping his heart, heating up the surface of his cheeks, and running frantically along his spine. The same sensation that he tried so hard to push down whenever the Spaniard was around…
Come to think of it, this was the reason why the silent treatment started. It all started with that spark that would run along the surface of his body whenever the Spaniard had any contact with him.
He forgot how long ago did that feeling started to happen, but he could remember how it burned when Antonio would give him a hug, sneak him a kiss to the temple, and hold his hands…
And how it burned whenever the Spaniard did those things to others that weren't him.
All of the 'you're so cute', 'because I care about you', 'I love you'…
How many times did Antonio tell that to other people apart from the times that he personally saw? How many times did he mean it? How many times was it false?
So, frantically, he tried to push the man away, along with the feelings, trying to calm the burning sensation that clawed at his heart whenever he saw the man with another. Touching another, laughing with another, looking at another.
I'm always not good enough.
When had he started… thinking about himself this way?
Everyone leaves me anyways. Who would want the second best? Third, fourth…
It's the same thing every single time
Why would anyone even love someone like me?
Rome left, Austria didn't want him, his own brother had left him for the blue-eyed German…
…Spain wouldn't love someone like me.
Don't touch me, don't be kind to me, don't let me fall in love with you…
I don't want to be hurt again.
But, all those thoughts that had been occupying his head throughout the days were thrown out of his mind as the pair of slightly dry lips made contact with his, freezing him on the spot.
It felt like they were searching for something…
Lovino let Antonio take control of the kissing, as he dealt with the possibilities of why the man was doing this to him. Why he was letting the man doing this to him.
But there was just so much passion behind that kiss. And the second one, and the third.
And so, on the fourth opened mouthed kiss, Lovi responded back.
He could feel a slight freeze in the Spaniard's movements as he cautiously kissed back, molding his mouth against the other man's, and slowly descended onto the couch from his previously position, giving Antonio the opportunity to wrap an arm around his waist, and have another make its way up towards the back of Lovino's head.
He could feel the man's lips open, and nip his bottom lip, swiping it occasionally with his tongue. Hesitantly, he parted his lips, and found the tongue that was previously memorizing the pattern of his lips invade his mouth, pressing softly against his own.
Antonio only gave Lovino a split second to take a breath before pressing his tongue in further. The Italian had been maneuvered into a straddling position on the Spaniard's lap, and Spain's arms pulled him closer into kiss, pressing their bodies into each other; chest with chest, hip with hip.
The hand that was at the back of Lovino's head pressed the younger nation further into the kiss, and Romano had to pound on the Spaniard's back in order for Spain to let him get some air.
The heat, the searing passion, the unspoken words of longing, the mutual wanting...
It wasn't long before Spain attacked him again, getting back at where they left off. The tongue invaded Lovino's mouth once more, and slowly traveled around the Italian's own muscle, memorizing every surface of the inside. Lovino's hand gradually found their place in the Spaniard's hair, and tangled themselves into the mess of russet curls
The kissing was out of synch. It was wet, it was sloppy, but Lovino didn't care; all those pent up frustrations that he had, all the doubts that he had, had been temporary pushed to the back of his mind.
This was Spain.
This was Spain.
How long had it been? Decades? Centuries?
Romano doesn't remember. Romano couldn't remember.
All he can think of right now is the pressure to the back of his head, the pair of lips that were pressed right against his, the tongue that was moving over every surface that it could find, claiming it, memorizing it, teasing it…
Short gasps of air escaped both of their lips in between the kisses before they attached for more, sealing their mouths once again against each other, pressing against each other until there was no more space in between them,
Second, minutes even, had passed by, and slowly the Spaniard finally withdrew his mouth from the panting Italian in his lap, and gazed at the scene in front of him.
The kiss-bruised lips were parted slightly, omitting the constant intake and outtake of air. The hue in Lovino's cheeks, whether it was from the heat, the lack of air, from the blush caused by the kissing… The dull amber eyes from earlier today were now a honey olive-gold…
And it was looking right back at him
The look in his eyes…
"What. The fuck. Was that? Trying to rape my mouth?" Lovino's hand went up and wiped at the saliva at the edge of his mouth, and looked away hastily as soon as he realized that Spain was eyeing him up and down. The redness was still in his cheeks, and Spain smiled as he heard those words come tumbling out of the Italian's mouth.
"Lovi~ you talked~" Spain's arm wrapped themselves around the Italian's waist and pulled him closer, the smile on his face spreading happily, and nuzzled Romano's warm cheek, causing him to flush again.
"I've never seen anyone go from that passionate to this oblivious that fast." Romano grumbled, eyes downcast, as the emotions that had been thrown to the back of his head during the kisses came rushing forward.
He's talking, he's talking.
"So… what was that for?"
"Hm?" Spain smiled, still nuzzling the tip of Romano's nose with his, causing the blush to return.
"T-The k-k-ki-kisses…" Romano stuttered, his mind playing back at the events that had just happened mere seconds ago, and played with the front of his shirt, avoiding the Spaniard's heated gaze.
He knew what the answer was, but he just wanted to hear it…
"Because I love you."
The pang of doubt rose again… a horrid habit that had been developed throughout the years…
"And how many times have you said that to someone…" the younger nation muttered offhandedly. Spain looked at the Italian with confusion, before what he said finally sunk in.
"…is that why you were giving me the silent treatment, Lovi?"Antonio questioned, the concerned look once again reappearing on his face, and leant forward towards the Italian.
"Hey, Lovi, look at me." Spain lifted the Italian's chin, and locked eyes with Romano's golden ones, holding their uttermost attention.
"I don't know what you were thinking of, and after that I don't care anymore, but I love you. I need you. You."
Antonio pecked Romano's lips.
"Do you know why I have not just one bruise, but fourteen up and down my body? Because whenever you try to push me away, I will always come back! I know… I know…" Antonio drifted off as the hand under the chin came up to cup the Italian's cheek, while the other one had wrapped around his waist, "that you're hurt…"
"You may not show it on the outside, but I know." He rested his forehead against Romano's, "That you don't want to be alone."
A hand went up to gently caress the younger nation's cheeks, and Spain closed his eyes and let the silence pass between them, listening to Romano's warm puffs of breath, feeling it against his lips.
"Q-quit sprouting sappy stuff, bastard. I'm not a woman. Do you spend your free time thinking up stuff like that?" Lovino grumbled again, causing the Spaniard to open his eyes and chuckle fondly.
A spark of sadness fluttered through Spain's eyes, unnoticed to Romano, as he realized what he was right…
I should've said something about this before…
How long have you been hurting, Romano?
Silence dwelled between the two before Spain finally broke te bittersweet silence
"So, anyways… why did you go to France?" he asked, the question that he had temporary pushed to the back of his mind popping up, replacing the current thought that was going on through Spain's head. Romano froze, and unfroze before squirming around on Spain's lap.
"…advice…" the younger nation mumbled, eyes drifting away from Spain's curious gaze and pretended to focus on a certain spot on his left.
"Fuckin' advice, dammit. He's the expert, right?"
"Expert…" Spain cocked his head, a clueless look working its way onto his face as he stared at the Italian. Lovino turned his head slowly, meeting the Spaniard's gaze, and stared right back him for a good few seconds.
"Never mind!" Lovino pushed himself off of the Spaniard, and stormed towards the kitchen, using the thought of remembering the forgotten meal in the microwave as an excuse to escape the awkward conversation that they were no doubt going to have if things went down.
Spain chuckled at the loud stomps that Romano was making and shook his head, laughing at how cute the Italian could be at time-
Then he froze.
And after a few seconds of tenseness he finally released a wry chuckle, and a relieved sigh escaped his lips, while he practically melted into the sofa with an incredibly content and love-struck smile, everything that had just happened a few minutes ago rushing back at him.
Lovino, Lovino, Lovino
What had just happened today…
Antonio let him roll his head back on his neck, and stare at the ceiling fan as it circled above his head. Around and around and around.
"H-Hey..." the Italian spoke up as the whirring sound of the microwave sprang to life, and glanced backwards at Antonio's general direction, breaking the moment of silence that had managed to fill up the time from when he left Spain on the couch. The Spaniard lifted his head back up and looked back towards the younger nation with a kind gaze.
More silence followed before Romano finally spoke again.
"T-There's more pasta in the fridge…" he mumbled before walking towards the direction of the hallway, out of the room, leaving the happy, yet dumbfounded Spaniard behind.
And it was when he was halfway out of the door before he stopped, tips of the ears turning red, and gripped the side of the opening to the hallway.
And if he hadn't dashed out the room as soon as he finished, he would've seen an impossibly huge smile spread across the Spaniard's face.
The silence had returned.
And even if the ghosts of the past comes back, even if it's still unbearable, now it's alright…
Because he knows that someone would be there for him through the suffering, and squeeze his hand to let him know it's all right.
Even if that person has a scowl on their face while doing it.
Thanks for reading~ Now I'm on to working with my other stories~