"Lovi we're going on a date!" Antonio said cheerfully.
I choked on the lucky charms I was currently stuffing down my throat. When I was finally able to talk again, I said "We're what?!"
"Going on a date!" he replied.
"To a football game! The Spanish International team is playing the U.S. today."
"Then we better get our asses moving if we're going to get there on time."
Antonio smiled as he pulled me away from my cereal and to my room. I got ready in the bathroom (go figure). When I came out I was dragged into my car (again) by Antonio.
"But I want to finish my cereal!" I complained.
"You're the one that said we had to get our asses moving." He replied.
I swore under my breath and buckled in. Before I knew it we were speeding of toward Madrid. It's been awhile since I've been there.
"Hey can we turn on some music?" I asked.
"Yeah sure." he replied.
Antonio hit a knob on the stereo and an English song came on.
"This used to big in Britain and America." Antonio said as he began to sing along "Baby, I compare you to a kiss from a rose on the gray. Oo, the more I get of you the stranger it feels."
Then he turned to me and continued to sing.
"There is so much a man could tell you, so much he can say. You remain my power, my pleasure, my pain."
I blushed as he continued to sing the song to me.
"Now that you're rose is in bloom, a light hits the gloom on the gray."
Just like that the song ended and Antonio stopped singing. I kind of the song could go on forever. Antonio's voice was like honey. Sweet and slow moving, laid back.
"You're a good singer." I said.
"You really think so?" Antonio said as his eyes lit up.
We rode in silence for a couple o minuets until Antonio said "So what genre are you good at singing?" I looked at him in disbelief. He actually thinks I can sing?! Oh I'm going to have fun with this.
"I can rap." I replied.
"Really? I never really listen to rap. Why don't you rap for me?"
"Sure. Let me think of a song."
I decided that I was just going to rap thrift shop (big in America). It's full of cuss words. It should be all good.
"I'm gonna pop some tags. Only got twenty dollars in my pocket, I-I-I'm hunting, looking for a dolla, this is fucking awesome." I rapped in the deepest voice I could muster.
Antonio was listening intently. Did he actually think I could rap? I sounded like Prussia for god sakes. But I continued anyways.
"I'll take those zebra jamies secondhand. Ima rock that motherfucka. They built the onsies with the socks on that motherfucka. I hit the party and they stop in that motherfucka."
I can't believe he's buying this!
"I wear your grandads clothes. I look incredible. I'm in this big ass coat from that thrift shop down the road."
When I finished it took all of my effort to not laugh.
"All that song was about getting clothes to go to a club for under twenty dollars even if it meant resorting to hand-me-downs from my grandfather." Antonio said.
"Hey, I'm broke." I replied.
"I don't what to say to that."
I give up. I have to laugh.
"Why are you laughing?" Antonio asked.
"You think I actually rap?"
"You just rapped a whole entire song."
"I stole it from an American rap artist. I don't actually rap."
"That explains so much."
I laughed some more. It seems easier to laugh now that Antonio is around. Before, I would never laugh.
"Hey Antonio, how come you can smile so much?" I asked.
"Because I found my rose on the gray. You." He replied.
My face went red. Is that really why he can smile? Well, he is the reason I can smile.
"You too." I said.
"You know what."
He ruffled my hair.
"Stop that!" I yelled.
"Aw Lovi, you're so cute~"
After a long time of driving through most of Europe, we finally reached Madrid. It was beautiful, the ancient architecture highlighting most of its buildings. Antonio parked the car in a parking garage and we walked over to Estadio Santiago Bernabéu. It could hold about 85,000 people and the field size was international (obviously). As we were walking to our seats we ran into America and Britain. Fuck!
"What the hell are you two doing here?" I asked.
"My country's playing soccer! Why else." America replied.
"I believe the proper term is football." I snapped.
"I tried to beat that into his skull but he insisted it was called soccer." Britain interjected.
"Where are you sitting?" Antonio asked.
"A1 and A2" Britain said.
"We're A3 and A4! Guess we're sitting next to each other." Antonio smiled.
You're shitting me right! I don't want to spend my time with Antonio next to these assholes. Fuck it.
We walked to our seats and sat sown. After about a half hour of waiting America announced he was hungry (surprise, surprise) and dragged Britain with him to go get a heart attack on a bun. I let a long breath once they had left.
"I'm sorry Lovi. I didn't know they were coming." Antonio said.
"It's not your fault. At least were here." I replied.
Antonio immediately brightened up and began chattering away until it was time for the game to begin. Then he got serious while America was over there screaming stuff like "Kick there asses!" Yeah, he has no idea how much I want to kick his ass.
America came out on top in the first half, two to zero. The first goal was a shot from outside the box by Landon Donovan, their top scorer. It hit the top left corner and there was no way the goalie was going to get it. The second goal came in off of a corner kick and was passed into the goal by Clint Dempsey. Antonio looked slightly depressed but I assured him that they would come back in the second half. And it's a good thing I was right.
With two minuets left in the game Spain and America were tied. One goal Spain made was a header from a cross made by Jesús Navas. The second goal was a shot by Pedro Rodríguez. It bounced off of the post and into the goal.
It was very tense where I was sitting. Antonio and America both wanted their teams to win and I seemed to be getting the blunt of the crossfire. A defender for spain sent the ball up to David Villa who then dodged the last remaining American defense with a scissor cut. He was one on one with the goalie. With a quick scoop he lifted the ball up and over the goalie, who was now sliding, and the ball went in the goal just as the time ran out.
Antonio flew to his feet, screaming "GGGGGOOOOOOOOOLLLLLLL!" America sat his fat ass back in his chair and mopped. Take that asshole. I got up to cheer with Antonio as America and Britain left. Final score, three to two, Spain.
When we got home Antonio cooked some of his world class pizza to celebrate. Mmmm…I fucking love that stuff. I wonder why he's so good at cooking. Seriously, it took me a whole day to learn how to make crepes that are half as good as his. He must be magical. That is the only answer.
Antonio placed a rose at both of our places before he brought over the pizza. It was so good! As I guessed, it was better when he used my pizza oven. I remembered back to that first day he came over here. A lot has happened since then. We started living together, I'm forced to be active, I can laugh, and I know I can love. A single rose changed all of that, and he's my rose.
Antonio cleared the table of everything but the roses. Then he walked over to me.
"Lovino, I want you to take a closer look at your rose." He said.
I picked the rose up and noticed something shiny on the stem. I slid it off and found it was a silver ring. Engraved on it was "Forever and Always, My Little Rose." Antonio got down on one knee.
"Lovino, will you marry me?" he asked.
"Of course!" I replied, wrapping him in a hug.
"I love you." He said.
"I love you more." I whispered as he kissed my forehead.