Author's Note: This used to be called I Fucking Love You, Damn it! , but was taken down because the title wasn't appropriate. Now I must call it the most unoriginal thing ever: A Letter. I should be sending most people who alert/favorited it a notice. Thanks!


It was just a normal morning, and I was sitting at the kitchen table drinking my daily cup of coffee and munching on a churro. I heard the door creak open and saw Romano shuffle quickly inside.

"Here's the mail." He tossed a stack of envelopes and fliers at me and started making his own cup of coffee. I leafed through the pile, dismissing junk mail and cringing at bills. Then, I found, sandwiched between an advertisement for fresh tomatoes and the electricity bill, a letter. There was only return address on it; it simply said: To Spain. I looked up at Romano, but his eyes stared into his coffee cup. I opened it slowly, trying not to tear the envelope, and unfolded the letter. It read:

Dear Antonio,

Hey, Jackass. I'm not very good with saying what I feel, so I decided to write you this letter. It's not like I did this on a whim; I've thought about it a lot.

First, I want to thank you. Thank you for taking me in. Thank you for raising me, putting up with me, and spending money on me. (I know that I've been a pain in the ass a lot in the past.) Thank you for planting tomatoes with me, reading to me and spending time with me. Thank you for holding me when I was scared. Thank you for not comparing me to my little brother. Thank you for understanding me. Thank you for loving me.

The previous sentence looked as if it was scribbled down in pain. Actually, now that I thought about it, the whole letter looked that way. I continued reading:

That's it. I fucking love you, damn it! I love when you laugh and smile. I love your sparkling green eyes and when you call me Lovi. I love when you hold me. I love that you understand me. So I want you to understand that even though I may not show it, I have always and will forever love you. Ya Jerk.

From , Lovino Vargas, Italy Romano

I placed the letter on the table and turned to Romano. He was still staring into his lukewarm coffee. I lifted up his chin and brushed my lips against his. His eyes automatically widened and his face flushed.

"What the fucking hell was that, Bastard?"

"I love you too, Lovino."