A Sort of Spin Off of one of my other Hetalia fics, I'm Not Okay. It's also named after a song. The song is called Discoveries, by Northlane.

Antonio is cleaning while Lovino is out. Whilst cleaning Lovino's room, he finds Lovino's diary and can't help but read some of it… Sorry for any OOC ness, I just wanted to write something fluffy and cute and, yeah. This happened.

Antonio smiled at his handiwork. He'd just swept the hallway of his home, outside the bedrooms. There was only three bedrooms in the house. Antonio's bedroom, which was large, spacious and always clean apart from some pieces of clothing that had been dumped onto the floor. There was the spare room, which was also rather spacious, with a large bed and empty shelves and an empty wardrobe. Sometimes that room was used for storage, but it was usually where Feliciano slept when he stayed over. The last room used to be a spare room, but had been changed to Lovino's room for when he is over. Since Lovino crashed at Antonio's for sometimes months at a time, Antonio thought it'd be easier if Lovino just kept the room. Then Lovino moved in, since he was sick of always being in the company of Ludwig, who was always with Feliciano. Or what it Feliciano was always with Ludwig?

Living with Lovino wasn't too bad. Antonio would wake up in the morning, make breakfast, and be joined by a sleepy and still grumpy Lovino. Then as the day went on, Lovino would end up transiting from grumpy to just snappy, as usual. They would eat tomatoes and watch television. Lovino would always get to shower first and sometimes he used up all the hot water ,but Antonio didn't mind because even though Lovino was mean and lazy, Antonio still considered him good company.

Antonio gently pushed open the door to Lovino's room. It smelt distinctly of the Italian lad himself and tomatoes, his favourite fruit. Antonio began by picking up the clothes on the floor and taking them to the laundry to dump them in a basket, which he would later put into the washing machine, or hand wash, depending on how he was feeling. He then made the bed, and stood back to see what else needed tidying. That was when he noticed the diary, sitting on the bedside table. It was so tempting, just sitting there unguarded and ready to read. With a slight pang of guilt that was easily brushed away, Antonio grabbed the diary and made himself comfortable on Lovino's soft bed. He opened the well-worn book to a page near the front and began reading sections of the entries.

Sometimes I think my brother is really stupid but then sometimes he says the smartest things. Today were talking over the phone about my little problem and he said to me, "Bad things are going to happen in your life, always. People are going to hurt you, but you can't use that as an excuse to hurt others in return. Not forever, at least."

Why does he always understand? I don't know how he does it! He's always so understanding and clever when it comes to these things, and I'm so fucking lost right now. It hurts that I can't do anything about this, it hurts a lot. I just want to say something, anything. I want to do something, just make it CLEAR. I want closure. I want to know exactly where this is going, but I don't… I just don't.

Does it count as saving someone's live if you refrain from killing them? If so, Antonio should be on his knees thanking me for the amount of times I've saved him, today alone. Last night I snuck into his bed, because I was cold and the darkness was being particularly scary. When I woke up in the morning he was proclaiming about how cute I was. I stopped myself from punching him in the face and simply told him to piss off, to which he retorted by telling me it was HIS bed, then he asked me WHY I was in HIS bed. Once again, I stopped myself from breaking him in half. God fucking dammit, he's going to be the death of me.

Today was nice. Antonio made breakfast, we ate together, I managed to only insult him a little bit, and he was smiley as usual. We watched TV together for a while. He cleaned the house whilst I stayed in my room and tried practicing my drawing. He did some gardening, I watched from the porch steps. It was peaceful outside, the sun was shining, and Antonio looked so happy gardening, smiling beautifully at those beautiful tomatoes, looking all beautiful and I…

The sentence stopped there. The ink was blurred, and it was plain to see where tears had dripped onto the page. Antonio re-read it over and over again. Lovino was writing nice things about him… Nice being the key word. It wasn't something Antonio expected at all. He flicked though the journal and kept spotting sentences.

Just so absolutely perfect…

Love it when he bends over to get a DVD…

Adore how he always makes breakfast…

I just wish I could say something…

Why can't I breath properly around him?...

Fratello says it's love…

I'm particularly fond of when he tries to hug me…

He pressed a kiss to my forehead and my heart stopped…

Every time I try to tell him I end up insulting him…

I'll tell him today…

I'll really tell him today…

Maybe I'll tell him today…

Antonio, I love you. It can't be that hard to say…

Today, I swear, I'll tell him…

Today is the day…

Maybe tomorrow…

Maybe next week…

Okay, I'll do it today, I promise…

… I can't do it…

Antonio closed the book and put it back where he found it. He had a mixture of feelings inside him. Part of him wanted to jump up and down and celebrate, part of him wanted to break down and cry, knowing that little Lovino was in so much pain- And it was Antonio's fault, just for existing. To take his mind off of it, he continued cleaning and then began making pasta sauce. He was going to invite Feliciano over and see if he could talk to him about it, and pasta might help with his quest.

An hour later, Feliciano was walking through the front door and confronted by the smell of pasta. There was two bowls on the coffee table, and Antonio was just turning on the television.

"Hey there, Feli! I made pasta for us." Antonio greeted his Italian friend. Feliciano sat down beside Antonio and eagerly grabbed a bowl, "Ve~ Grazie, Toni!"

After a few moments of slurping pasta, Antonio spoke up. "I need to talk to you… About Lovi."

"Fratello? What about him?" Feliciano asked, swallowing a mouthful of pasta and giving Antonio all his attention. Antonio sighed, "I did something bad today… I read Lovi's diary. I was cleaning, and I couldn't help it… I know you know about how he feels… about, um, me."

"Oh. I was trying so hard to get him to tell you himself, so you wouldn't find out some other way, ve~ But it's too late now, I suppose." Feliciano said with a downhearted tone, eating a little more pasta. Antonio cleared his throat, "He knows I like him, surely?"

"You do? He didn't know, he suspected but he thought you're only tolerating him, this is good news, ve~!" Feliciano exclaimed happily, and Antonio smiled a little, "Yeah, it is. I knew he didn't hate me! He might act like it, but I knew, deep down, he enjoyed my antics!" Antonio grabbed a cushion and hugged it to his chest, before proclaiming, "I can't wait for him to come home, I'm just going to-"

"You're going to make me a bowl of pasta, for a start."

Antonio yelped and spun around. Lovino was standing in the doorway, arms crossed. Feliciano waved happily, unable to speak due to a mouthful of pasta.

"Oh, Lovino. I- How long were you there for?" Antonio asked, going vividly red. Lovino managed to look even angrier, "I just came in as you started saying what you were going to do. You didn't notice me come in because you were too busy with your little date with my fratello!"

"Date- What- No! I just made him pasta and we were talking!" Antonio defended himself, and Feliciano nodded, "Ve~ You know I have Ludwig to take me on dates, I don't need Antonio, fratello!"

"Whatever. I'm going up to my room. You better make me a bowl of pasta, bastard!" Lovino snapped, and stormed up the stairs. Antonio looked at Feliciano with wide eyes. Before he got to speak, Lovino was shouting.


Antonio winced, and Feliciano stood up. Antonio gave him a nod, and Feliciano left with a small wave. Lovino came down the stairs and spotted Antonio alone on the couch.

"Fuck you!" Lovino screamed, and Antonio was silent.

"Hey! Are you listening to me?! I hate you!"

Antonio didn't say anything, he just glared at the television. Lovino walked over and switched it off, standing angrily before Antonio.

"Oi, bastard! Are you fucking listening to me?! Don't go in my fucking room, I swear- Antonio?"

Antonio didn't look at Lovino. He was looking towards a painting on the wall. Lovino blinked, and said in a softer tone, "Hey, are you okay?"

"Can you just not be mean to me, for a little while? You can have my bowl of pasta, I've not touched it. We can sit outside, in the sunlight, and we can be like normal friends, at least for a little while." Antonio suggested, and Lovino deliberated before grudgingly agreeing. He grabbed Antonio's bowl and they headed outside, sitting on the warm grass. Lovino slurped up some pasta, and Antonio leaned his head back, exposing his neck, soaking up the sunlight. He imagined Lovino looking at him, and smiled at the thought.

The atmosphere had changed greatly. A minute ago it was tense and angry, now it was calm, cheery, even.

"I know you're looking at me. And I know you're sorry." Antonio said softly, and opened his eyes to look at Lovino, who looked away fast, blushing.

"Shut up. I'm not sorry. You went into my room." Lovino defended himself fast, and Antonio leaned over and kissed his cheek. Lovino blushed even more, flinching away from Antonio like he was poisonous.

After a few seconds, Lovino said quietly, "I don't really hate you. I was just saying that because I was mad."

"I know. You adore me." Antonio said, simpering at the blushing lad. Lovino scoffed, "That's pushing it a little." He told Antonio, looking away from him. Antonio chuckled lightly, "Sure it is." He drawled, and Lovino pulled a few blades of grass out of the ground, refusing to look at the smirking Spaniard.

"It is, bastard." He grumbled, and that was when Antonio accidently said something he shouldn't have.

"Are you going to tell me today?"

Antonio went red and swore internally. Lovino's gaze snapped onto him and he squinted, "What?!"

"Uh, nothing-"

"You bastard! You- You- UGH!" Lovino shouted incoherently before throwing the pasta bowl away in anger. It landed in Antonio's garden, taking a few tomato plants down with it.

Antonio winced and Lovino shoved him before standing up and storming away, not into the house, but down the road.

"Lovi, come back!"

"No! Piss off!" Lovino shouted in return. Antonio stood up and ran after him, panting, "No, please, Lovino, stop! I'm sorry!"

Lovino stopped and spun around, tears spilling down his cheeks, "You shouldn't have read it! You should have minded your own fucking business!" He choked out, and Antonio held out his arms. Lovino fell into his chest and grabbed the front of his shirt, sobbing. Antonio gently held him, rubbing his back and just letting Lovino cry. That was all Lovino did for a long while. He soaked Antonio's shirt with tears and snot and wouldn't stop crying.

"Let's go back home. I'll make you more pasta, since you threw yours into my tomato garden." Antonio said a little sternly. He wasn't happy about the destruction of some of his plants. Lovino wiggled out of his grip and they began walking home silently, apart from the occasional sniffle from Lovino.

When they got back, Lovino went to his room, probably to write in or burn his diary, and Antonio went to the bathroom to take a quick shower.

"I'm having one next! And you better have some pasta ready when I get out!" Lovino shouted through the wall as Antonio undressed, and then added, "… Please!"

Antonio smiled at that, and showered, washing the sticky mess off of his chest. Afterwards, he got out and noticed the fog on the mirror. He smiled as he wrote on it, so that when Lovino got in and re-fogged the room, he would see the message. He thought himself rather clever for having the idea.

Antonio then got dressed and left. When he got into the kitchen, Lovino was there, sipping instant coffee. Antonio grinned at him, but got no reply. Lovino sat there for a while longer, until he finished his coffee. He then left the room and went up to the bathroom. Lovino sighed as he got undressed. He hopped into the shower and turned on the hot water, nearly scolding himself. Not that he cared. He felt as though he deserved it. I've been a real prick today. Poor Antonio… Poor, sweet Antonio…

After he finished cleaning himself up, he hopped out of the shower and towel dried his hair. Out of the corner of his eye he thought he saw something on the mirror. He looked at it fully, and went red upon reading the words. He finished drying himself and got dressed, leaving the bathroom with new found confidence. Because sometimes all people need to feel good, is a few words from someone who cares about them, and that was all Lovino needed.

Antonio was just serving up the fresh new pasta when Lovino came into the kitchen, walked right up to him, and wrapped his arms around his waist. Antonio hugged back in surprise, and heard Lovino sniffle.

"Oh no, please don't cry on me again…" Antonio requested, and Lovino pulled away. He smiled upon seeing the bowl of pasta. It wasn't a forced, fake smile like usual. It was real, and Antonio felt himself melting at its adorableness. Lovino looked from the pasta, to Antonio, still smiling.

"You're everything I've ever looked for too, Antonio."