Lovino burst into his room, full of pent up frustration. He slammed the door behind him and snatched a pillow from his bed. Plopping down on the mattress, he let out a loud, agonized scream into the pillow. He felt tears, hot and thick, running down his face.

"Fratello?" called Feliciano's voice from the closed door along with a soft knock. "Are you okay? What's wrong?"

The older brother had stormed into the house, immediately going to his room just a minute ago.

"Go away, bastardo!" he shouted back, trying to quiet his sobs. Feliciano was the last person that he wanted to talk to right now… well, almost the last.

"Lovi!" the voice persisted. The door opened a bit, revealing Feli's concerned face.

Lovino lept up and slammed the door shut in his brother's face. He quickly locked it. "I told you to go away!" he screamed. He heard a soft sigh of defeat and listened to his brother's footsteps retreating.

He sat there for a while, trying to stop the flow of tears. Eventually, he did, but he still hugged the pillow to his chest, resting his chin on the top of it. He wiped away what remained of the tears on his face and grabbed a tissue, blowing his nose into it.

Write about it, said a gentle voice in his head. That's what Lovino liked to do when he was particularly emotional. He took a piece of paper from his stash and a pencil and sat down at his desk, taking a shaky breath as he began to write.

I've realized something, It started. I'm not who I thought I was. Something about me has changed- something I thought would always be unwavering.

I'm not straight. Lovino closed his eyes as he finally wrote the truth he had been battling in his mind for months.

I'm not gay either, it continued. I still like girls. But I'm attracted to guys too. I don't know where this puts me- I feel so confused. Why do I have to be different? Why can't I just be normal? What does this mean? What will people even think?

I feel shame.

Lovino ran out of room on the page (it was fairly small), so he flipped it over to write on the other side.

And that's not even the worst part. I could like anyone in this world, but, no… I have to like him.

Antonio, Spain, whatever the hell I should call him. I love him and I hate it, because he's my best friend and there's no way he'd ever return the feelings.

He kissed me on the cheek today. It was just friendly, but it made me feel so good. Then I hit him, because I know I shouldn't feel this way. Then I left and came back home.

I wish I could change how I feel about the stupid tomato bastard, but I can't.

Lovino finished writing and folded up the paper. With a sad sigh, he put it in a wooden box sitting on his nightstand. He felt a little better… a little. But the crushing pain was still there.

One Week Later:

Lovino rolled his eyes at the babbling Spaniard following him through the door. He was rambling on about his tomato garden, and, while the Italian loved tomatoes, he could hardly stand another second of it.

As he entered his kitchen, Lovino dumped the groceries that Antonio and he had gotten at the nearby outdoor market on the counter.

"I'm taking a shower," the Italian grumbled, interrupting Antonio's chatter. He was hot from being outside and was very irritated from all the babble.

"M'kay," Antonio replied cheerfully, sitting down at the kitchen table. "Don't take too long."

"Yeah, yeah," he muttered in reply. "Whatever, bastard."

Lovino took a shower, relaxing in the steamy water. Afterwards, he towel-dried his hair and changed into fresh clothes. He went back down to the kitchen to talk to Antonio, but he wasn't there.

He quickly checked the living room and the hall and peeked outside to see if Antonio's car was still there. It was and Antonio was nowhere to be seen.

Frowning, Lovino decided not to call for him. Whatever the bastard was up to, he should be caught in the act.

Slightly irritated, he went back up the stairs, checking in the guest bedroom and the bathroom before finally moving to his room.

As Lovino entered his room, he froze in the doorway. Antonio was sitting on the edge of the bed, his back facing the Italian, with a piece of paper in his hand. Lovino's eyes darted to the nightstand where the wooden box sat opened.

His heart beat rapidly increased in volume and speed as he watched Antonio read the paper. After a second of being too panicked for words he finally took action.

"Stop!" he cried. "P-put that down!"

The Spaniard whipped around, looking alarmed and embarrassed to be caught.

"Lovino…" he started to say slowly.

Lovino yelped, as if he was in pain, turned on the spot, and ran. He fled, not caring where he went and he heard a surprised shout and footsteps behind him. He ran faster, trying to get away from this humiliation.

Throwing open the back door, he leapt outside, not bothering to shut the door behind him, and sprinted across the yard. He ran past his precious garden and into the rather large tool shed, slamming the door behind him and bolting it.

Shaky sobs shook his thin frame as he sank to the ground, his back against the wall of the shed. He drew his knees up to his chest and buried his face in his arms.

Why am I so stupid? he wondered angrily. I should have burned that fucking piece of paper!

His thoughts were interrupted by a loud knocking on the door. Antonio had found him.

"Lovi!" he cried, rapping his knuckles on the wood. "Lovi, let me in!"

"N-No!" Lovino replied. "G-Go away! Leave me alone, Spain!"

Antonio hated it when Lovino called him by his country name.

"What's wrong, Lovi?" he asked. Lovino almost screamed in frustration.

"What's wrong?" he repeated in outrage. "What do you think is wrong, you dumbass?"

"I-I don't know," he heard Antonio say helplessly. "I don't know why you think this is so bad. You know I'm okay with this kind of stuff. I am gay after all- you know that."

"Wh-What?" the Italian asked, completely confused. "Y-You don't hate me?"

"Hate you?" Antonio replied, like it was the most preposterous thing in the world. "How could I hate you, mi tomate? I don't care if you like guys too!"

Lovino understood now. "You didn't read the back, did you?" he asked before realizing his terrible mistake in telling him that. There went his chance of getting out of this okay.

He heard the rustling of paper as Antonio flipped it over to the backside. There was an agonizingly silent moment as he read through it followed by a soft "Oh."

They were quiet for a few minutes before Antonio knocked gently on the door again.

"Lovino," he said seriously. "Please let me in."

"N-no," cried Lovino. "Just leave me alone. I know that you hate me now."

"I don't hate you."

"Yes you do!" the Italian cried angrily. "You hate me because of how I feel and what I am and you should! You should despise me!"

"Lovino Vargas!" Antonio shouted, firmer and more serious than Lovino had ever heard him. "Open this door!"

Taken by surprise, Lovino regretfully unbolted the door. He meekly tried to wipe away tears as it slowly opened, revealing the concerned face of his best friend.

Lovino looked away, blinking hard as he tried not to cry again. He then felt arms around him, soft and warm, comforting and safe. Antonio was hugging him.

Lovino didn't react at first, standing there in shock. Then he shook himself and shoved the Spaniard away.

His body protested- he felt so cold and alone outside the hug. He turned his back to Antonio and tried to hold himself together.

"Lovino, you're wrong."

Those words shook him to the core. He glanced back at Antonio with fresh tears in his eyes- this rejection was unbearable.

"I know," Lovino whispered, turning back around. "I'm wrong to feel this way. I'm sorry."

"That's not what I meant."

Lovino furrowed his eyebrows. What was this stupid bastard doing?
"You were wrong about something on this paper," Antonio continued. "About me never being able to return the feelings."

Lovino felt his mouth hang open and suddenly felt numb.

"I love you," the Spaniard said. "I have for the longest time.

Lovino didn't get the chance to answer because, at that moment, he felt it. Deep pain- not emotional, but physical.

"Ouch!" he shouted, glancing down at his bare foot. The first thing he saw was the blood and then the nail that he had stepped on, impaled in his flesh.

"Lovi!" Antonio exclaimed. "What happened?"

"Stupid fucking nail," Lovino muttered. "Dammit!"

"Here," Antonio said and, without another word, scooped up Lovino into his arms bridal-style.

"Gah!" the Italian exclaimed, flailing a bit. "Let go of me, you tomato bastard!"

"How else are you going to get back inside, hmm?" the other man asked, chuckling a bit as he carried Lovino back to the house.

The Spaniard gently set the Italian down on the counter next to the sink. He lightly picked up his foot and grimaced at the nail. "This'll probably hurt," he warned Lovino.

Lovino made a face. "Whatever," he muttered, a new batch of tears in his eyes. Antonio took hold of the nail and began slowly pulling it out, Lovino muttering profanities under his breath the whole time.

When the nail was finally out, Antonio examined it carefully. "I don't think that it has any rust on it, but we should still go to the doctor."

Lovino frowned at the "we". He let Antonio clean the wound out with water and bandage it, but kept the troubled look on his face.

After Antonio had finished patching him up, the Italian decided to ask what was on his mind. "Did you… did you mean what you said?"

Antonio smiled vaguely. "About loving you, you mean?"

"Yeah."

"Of course," he replied softly, taking his hand gently. "I wouldn't lie to you."

Lovino didn't say anything and just stared at the hand holding his. It was tan, warm, and strong. He liked how it felt around his. Antonio lifted the Italian's hand to his mouth and lightly kissed it.

Lovino blushed, his face easily rivaling a tomato. But he didn't protest.

Antonio stepped closer and his heart raced. Was this real? he wondered.

Gently taking Lovino's face in his hands, the Spaniard leaned even closer, causing the Italian's breath to hitch. "Wha-What are doing," Lovino asked, almost nervously.

"Getting ready to kiss you," Antonio replied, smiling a bit. "Is that okay?"

Lovino released a shaky breath. "Y-yeah. I guess."

Then the Spaniard's lips captured his and the whole world disappeared. It was somewhat sloppy because, even though he was very flirtatious, Lovino had never actually gotten to kissing a girl, but nice all the same. It was sweet and simple and both got lost in it.

When the kiss was broke, Lovino's body seemed to relax. All the mixed feelings, pressure, and angst that had been weighing him down floated away. His foot still hurt like a bitch though.

"Ti amo," Lovino said at last, looking into those green eyes full of love and warmth.

"Te amo," Antonio replied. "Siempre y para siempre."

And… yeah. Cute ending (maybe?)

Translations:

Fratello- brother

ti amo- I love you.

Te amo- I love you.

Siempre y para siempre- always and forever

So, I felt more feels today and I decided to write this. Ta da.

Did you like it? Did you hate it? Would you rather eat England's scones than ever read it again? I want to know! Please leave a review (follows and favorites wouldn't be too bad either…)!

Peace, Love, and Churros,

~27lablover