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In love, there is a winner and a loser.
Lovino has always known that, ever since he was a child, knowing that his Grandfather loved Feliciano more than he loved Lovino. There is no such thing as mutual feelings. One always loves the other one more. The one who loves more, Lovino knows, is the loser. The winner is the one who is loved. That is the truth of the world. That would always be the truth.
So when Lovino realized that, maybe, he was in love with Antonio? All hell broke lose. Forget his Catholic guilt, forget the fact that Antonio is a complete and utter moron -- Lovino’s very core objected to the very idea of such stupidity. It was impossible. He refused to believe Antonio could have such power over him. He was his own country (or at least half of one) for fuck’s sake! It’d been years since Lovino “belonged” to Spain, so Antonio could have no claim over him, in turn.
These were the things he told himself. These were the pieces of flawless logic used when logically illustrating that loving Antonio wasn’t even funny as a really damn stupid joke.
Which was exactly why there were no nerves involved when, seeing Antonio for the first time in months after this idle bombshell of a thought (loving Antonio – what the hell was he on?), Lovino’s heart leapt and he dumped his cappuccino all down his front. It was a new suit, too, damn it. Fucking Antonio.
“I’m sorry, Lovi!” Antonio cried out for the twenty-third time. Lovino knew it was the twenty-third because after the eighth time, Lovino started counting just so he could shout at Antonio with perfectly accurate facts of his obnoxiousness. Antonio kept trying to rub paper napkins over Lovino’s silk tie and Lovino kept punching his hands away angrily. “I hadn’t meant to scare you,” Antonio said, reaching out now to untie Lovino’s tie so Lovino could dab at his ruined shirt. “I’m really sorry!”
“You didn’t scare me, you fucker”! Lovino shouted, unbuttoning his shirt and pulling it off and stomping to the laundry room. Fucking Antonio. “What kind of moron doesn’t even fucking knock anymore! Shit!”
“I said I was sorry, Lovi…” Antonio said and sounded properly ashamed but also weirdly happy. What a fucker.
“You’re paying for this suit,” Lovino decided. “And you better be fucking grateful that’s all you have to do to make it up to me!”
“Thank you,” Antonio said, and seemed to mean it. He followed Lovino upstairs and sat down on his bed while Lovino picked out his new outfit for the day. He was pissed off. It’d been a brand new suit, and now he had to settle for one that wasn’t new at all. Fucking Antonio. It’d taken all morning for him to decide on which tie to wear with the shirt. He started choosing again now. Antonio even helped with the tie, like he was some servant. Good. Fucking Antonio.
“So why the hell are you even here?” Lovino asked, hoping he sounded properly dismissive and disgusted.
“Well, “Antonio said, in a way that usually meant he hadn’t the smallest idea. “Because I wanted to see you?”
Lovino scowled and straightened his collar. “What the hell kind of reason is that?”
“A good one,” Antonio protested with a sunny smile. “You’re always a good reason, Lovi.”
And, no, Lovino wasn’t blushing from the words. It was just too hot in his house. Maybe he should wear a lighter shirt. Fucking Antonio!
“You stupid fucker,” Lovino decided, securing his belt and straightening the buckle before marching out of his bedroom. He heard Antonio following him, could just picture Antonio’s stupidly inane smile. It hardly ever left his face. It was obnoxious. Annoying. Cloyingly sweet. Ugh.
But that’s just how Antonio had always been.
What a fucker.
---
“Have you ever considered telling him?” Feliciano asked over dinner. The two brothers met in Rome once every two weeks on the government’s dime, supposedly so the two halves of Italy could discuss important politics. What usually happened was the two talking about everything except work. But that suited Lovino just fine. He was hardly involved with politics, so why the fuck should he have to talk about it in lieu of eating delicious food and drinking delicious wine?
“Tell who what?” Lovino asked, rolling his eyes and taking a sip of wine.
“Antonio. That you love him,” Feliciano chirped in that over-eager way of his.
Lovino choked on his wine. And would have spat it out in shock if it wasn’t also very expensive wine. So he attempted to swallow around his coughing fit.
“WHAT?” he shouted, once his throat was clear. “Who told you – and more importantly, I don’t love him! Where the hell did you get such a stupid idea?”
“Well…” Feliciano trailed off, sounding uncertain. “It just… seemed obvious to me.”
“You’re brain dead. If you think something’s ‘obvious’, it just means you’re seeing things. Fuck!”
“Ve… I’m sorry!”
“You should be!” Lovino snapped but then Feliciano gave him that damn puppy dog look that made him feel guilty for not coddling his brother more. His brother was obnoxious but, damn it, he was his brother – and he should take care of him or whatever the shit. “Whatever. Just forget it, okay?”
Instead of forgetting about it, Feliciano said, “You really don’t love him at all? Not even a little bit?”
“Not even a little,” Lovino said, perhaps a bit too quickly. “Antonio’s a fucking idiot – and annoying. Who could love that?”
“But he must really love you, though,” Feliciano protested and Lovino felt his eyebrow twitch.
“Can we fucking stop talking about this already?”
He must have finally sounded angry enough, because Feliciano finally dropped the topic.
---
When it came to the winners and the losers in the game, Lovino knew he was the winner. Antonio fawned over him, bent over backwards for him, did everything he could for Lovino. And Lovino didn’t even care about him. The ultimate control. The ultimate winner.
That was just the way it was. Antonio had lost long ago. Anyone with eyes could see the way Antonio adored Lovino. Even Lovino could see that. True, Antonio was nice to everyone. He’d give a random slob off the streets his shirt if asked. He’d spend all his money on food for someone if it was demanded of him. And he would do it with a smile. He was that much of a sap, that stupid idiot. But Lovino suspected that he was a special case for Antonio. It may only be one tiny step up, but it was a step up all the same.
So whenever Antonio stubbornly clung to Lovino, or complimented his looks or outfits, or made him food, or just spent the day hanging out with him, Lovino silently congratulated himself on his victory – that he was the winner. That Antonio loved him and he was completely unmoved by it all.
---
“Are you busy?” Antonio asked as soon as Lovino opened his door. Without so much as a hello and how are you – nope, just demanding attention. What a fucker. Lovino scowled.
“What do you want?”
“Can we take a walk?” Antonio asked, beaming. His eyes sparkle in the sun in a way that would cause anyone pause, maybe feel the increase of a heartbeat. Not Lovino, though. He was too busy rolling his eyes and not caring to notice something like that. Fucking Antonio. He must have been out of his mind to think he might be falling in love with Antonio. It was impossible. If he refused to acknowledge it and refused to entertain such a stupid thought, the thought would surely just go away. Antonio just had to stop smiling like that.
“What a stupid request,” Lovino muttered, but closed the door behind him and started walking. “Well, come on, you idiot.”
“Coming,” Antonio said, sounding way too pleased. He fell into step easily with Lovino and they passed the first few minutes of the walk in blissful silence. Their arms brushed together, occasionally, an easy intimacy that came with knowing someone for hundreds of years.
Antonio started to hum after a few minutes, and Lovino said nothing as they walked, hands sliding into his pockets. It was almost peaceful. It was almost pleasant.
“It’s a nice day, isn’t it?” Antonio asked, after a long moment.
“I guess,” Lovino said, unwilling to commit. Even if the day was nice and they were in his country so of course everything looked great. He still hated to give Antonio too much to work with. Because conversations like this usually ended in some kind of stupid proclamation of how cute Lovino was.
“The day’s almost as pretty as you are, Lovi!” Antonio bubbled out happily.
Like that. Jesus.
Lovino shot him an exasperated look. He hated that he was starting to blush. Fucking Antonio!
“Are you an idiot?” Lovino muttered, looking away from Antonio’s obnoxiously smiling face.
“Is it okay if I do say those things?” Antonio asked after a moment, and almost sounded serious. He even stopped walking, waiting for Lovino to stop, too, and turn around to face him. “Is it okay if I tell you things like that?”
Lovino stared at him and then scoffed to cover up how oddly exposed he felt. “Do what you want. It’s all the same to me!”
“Okay,” Antonio said, smiling. He started walking again.
Lovino rolled his eyes, but followed him. They continued to walk in silence. Despite the benign nature of such a, however brief, conversation, it didn’t sit well with Lovino. Like Antonio was trying to say more than he actually did – and failing because he was an utter fool.
“Hey,” Lovino said.
“Yes?” Antonio asked, looking down at him with a warm smile.
“What the hell is with you today?” Lovino asked, frowning.
Antonio shrugged, but looked thoughtful – like he honestly had no idea what the hell Lovino was going on about (and the idiot probably didn’t) but doing his best to figure it out all the same (and failing).
“What am I like today?” he asked, blinking at him.
Lovino studied his face, but found he didn’t really have an answer. He scoffed, turning his face away.
“How the hell should I know?” He rolled his eyes, and added, “You’re always weird.”
Antonio laughed.
“I like being with you,” Antonio said, after a long silence, save for the sound of their footsteps against the ground.
Lovino paused, glancing up at Antonio – a look of deep, uncertain incredulity etching into his forehead and plucking his lips downwards in a deep frown.
“Like this,” Antonio clarified – without actually clarifying anything.
“Whatever,” Lovino said.
“Is it okay?” Antonio asked, again.
Lovino rolled his eyes again. Dense fucker, not ever saying anything worthwhile or understandable.
“It doesn’t matter to me if you like to walk,” he decided on.
Antonio hummed something, but fell in step beside him. They kept walking.
Lovino thought to himself that it was unlikely he’d ever understand Antonio fully. Hard to know what could go on in such a pea-brained individual.
---
“I know you told me not to talk about it,” Feliciano began, voice soft and, more importantly, hesitating.
“So don’t,” Lovino warned, staring at his brother over the lip of his coffee cup.
“But I have to say it,” Feliciano finished, ignoring Lovino’s interruption. “About Antonio—”
“I really don’t want to talk about this,” Lovino snapped out quickly, giving his brother a deep stare. Feliciano smiled uncertainly, but, sadly for Lovino, could not be dissuaded.
“He must really love you,” he said cautiously, “Have you considered returning his feelings?”
“First of all, that’s not how it works. Second of all, no. I haven’t. And I never will.”
Feliciano fidgeted. “But…”
Lovino sighed out, frustrated. “You obviously have something on your mind, so fucking just say it so you can shut up about it. Forever.”
“It’s only that… I know you have trouble making friends. And it’s been a long time since you…” Feliciano smiled, a little nervously. “But Antonio seems to like you even though you aren’t always that nice. So maybe you should… think about it?”
Lovino stared at his brother. And then he stared some more. And then when he was done with that, he just kept staring. Because seriously -- what the hell? Did his brother just imply that no one else could ever love him? In that dopey, sweet way of his? What the actual fuck.
“What the fuck?” he cried out. “Do you even listen to yourself?”
“Sorry! Forget I said anything…” Feliciano said, cowering.
---
Lovino didn’t forget, though. Couldn’t forget. Because, even though he hated to admit it even for a second – what if Feliciano was right? What if Antonio was the only person who could love him?
Lovino wasn’t an idiot. He knew his attitude was a bad one. Especially when he was compared to the wonderful and amazing Feliciano. He always paled in comparison. Hell, even Antonio fawned over Feliciano like he was the second coming of Jesus. And really, Lovino couldn’t quite blame anyone for adoring his brother. He was sparkles and rainbows and sweetness all rolled into one, and also a fucking idiot – so entertaining in that way, and always well meaning.
And Lovino? Well. He was the opposite of all that entirely.
But did he even care? Hell no! God.
Leave it to his brother to be a complete fucking asshole even when he was trying to be helpful. Lovino couldn’t even be that angry because his brother was too dumb to realize how utterly insulted Lovino felt. But that was how it always seemed to go, most days.
Still. Maybe he should think about it?
---
“Hey,” he said over the phone that evening.
“Yes? What is it, Lovi?” Antonio asked, sounding as stupidly chipper as he always did. Lovino could just picture his stupid-as-fuck grin.
“I have something to tell you after the world meeting tomorrow. Come to my house after. Got it?”
“I’ll be there!” Antonio chirped.
Lovino hung up the phone with a frown. He didn’t quite know what he’d say, but he figured the short but effective ‘hey, I know you like me and I hereby give you permission to do so’ should do the trick. He didn’t care about Antonio, but this, at least, would ensure he really would be the winner.
---
The meeting was going so unbearably slow, it was a miracle Lovino hadn’t stabbed himself with his pen – anything to get him the hell out of there. Or give him something to do and react to. It didn’t help that he always found these meetings painfully boring. It’s not like anyone cared about his opinion. He was the south of Italy – who cares? Who could think of Lovino when Feliciano was sitting right there? Fuck.
When the recess finally fucking came, Antonio was at his side instantly. “Loviiiiiiiiii!”
“God, what the hell do you want?” Lovino barked out, blushing when Antonio started nuzzling against his shoulder.
“I just wanted to see you, that’s all,” he chirped, still nuzzling. He was smiling that big, dopey smile of his – the kind that lifted all the way into his eyes. “It’s been kind of slow today, huh? It’s no fair that we don’t get to sit by each other.”
“Whatever. You’ll get over it,” Lovino said, stubborn to the core. Lovino elbowed him in the stomach. “Your boss is giving you a look, you know.”
“Hm?” Antoio asked and, sure enough, Antonio’s boss was currently giving him a full-on stare. “Ha ha, oh, Boss must want a word with me. Hold on, Lovi…”
And with that, Antonio untangled himself from Lovino and wandered off. Lovino rolled his eyes and turned away, questioning again why he was going to give that idiot permission to like him. He acted like they were already together. That’s how it went, he supposed. Maybe Antonio’s idiocy was rubbing off on him. Antonio and his boss were heading off to a room next door. The recess was close to ending, though, so with another roll of his eyes upward, Lovino followed. He was the greatest, most generous guy in the world – summoning an idiot like this. Any other person would just leave him be and let him slip in late like a stupid fucker. But no, Lovino was feeling generous today. Antonio should kiss the ground he walked on, honestly.
He crossed the room, looking for the two of them. He paused at each door until he saw one slightly cracked open. He headed towards it. Once he was close enough to hear, there came the sound of Antonio’s boss as he said, “I don’t care how innocent you think it is, it isn’t good for our relations if you hold another country above the others.”
And Antonio answered, easily and warmly, “But I don’t.”
He even gave a little shrug. His boss scowled just a little, though.
“Answer me honestly, Spain. Do you love Italy?”
Lovino froze, hand on the door handle. He felt as if his heart had permanently lodged up into his throat. And he couldn’t even say why.
Antonio looked at his boss, calmly, and said, with no hesitation and no overwhelming emotion, “No. Of course I don’t. Why would I?”
And then Lovino felt his heart shatter. He staggered a little, weight falling onto his hand holding the door handle. But he did not move.
“You’re too touchy with him.”
“I’m that way with everyone,” Antonio said with a smile.
Lovino took a step back, finding it hard to breathe all of a sudden. His mind was racing a mile a minute.
“Then you don’t love him?”
“Why would I? You’ve said before that South Italy is unpleasant.” Antonio spoke with a laugh, sounding a bit self-conscious. “It’d be unrealistic of me to like him. You can see as well as anyone that he certainly doesn’t hold me in any favor.”
His boss frowned and then nodded, looking relieved. “Yes, that’s true. We like to think you’re smarter than that, Spain, to moon over someone like that.”
Lovino stood still, unable to move. Then a hand touched his shoulder and he nearly jumped a foot in the air.
“Brother?” Feliciano asked, surprised. “What’s—?”
“Leave me alone,” Lovino snapped, shoving past his brother and stomping away. Fuck the last few hours of the meeting – he was leaving now. Like anybody would miss him.
He couldn’t think.
---
But that was fine because who the fuck needed to think? It’s not like he cared or anything. In fact, it was a relief to hear that Antonio didn’t fucking love him because fuck you. Better for everyone involved. Saved him all this trouble and all this embarrassment and all this frustration. A strictly platonic relationship was far more desirable than having to deal with a clingy, overly affectionate asshole of a not-really-but-kind-of-boyfriend. Or whatever it was that Lovino was going to give Antonio permission to be. It’d save him all the trouble of having to explain that he just felt sorry for Antonio, that he didn’t have any feelings for him at all.
This was what he told himself as he ripped through his house, tearing down anything he felt reminded him of Antonio.
And as it turned out, that was almost everything.
But it’s not like he cared. It’s not like he gave a shit about Antonio’s feelings – or lack thereof. He was just annoyed, that’s all. There’s nothing else. It’s not like he cared. That wasn’t the case at all. Fucking Antonio!
Eventually the tears came and Lovino had no fucking clue why he was crying. It happened while he was in the process of ripping his bedroom apart.
And of course that’s how fucking Antonio found him, ripping things down off the wall and crying like he was a little colony again.
“Lovi!” Antonio cried out, rushing towards him. “What happened? What’s the matter—!”
“Get the fuck away from me!” Lovino snapped out, grabbing a book from his desk and hurling it at Antonio, who ducked away just in time for it to slam against the wall.
“But –”
“I hate you,” Lovino snapped. “Go away!”
“But—” Antonio said again.
“What part of ‘fuck off’ don’t you get, you bastard! Forget what I said earlier – I have nothing to fucking say to you.”
“Lovi,” Antonio said softly, reaching out and touching his elbow. “What happened? You disappeared from the meeting earlier – did something happen? Why are you so upset?”
“Fuck off,” Lovino snapped back, grabbing another book. “I’ll tell you what’s wrong, you fucking bastard! I hate you and everything about you! I hate your stupid smile, I hate your stupid way of thinking, I hate your attitude and your stupid way of talking. And, most of all I hate—”
hate that you don’t love me.
He fell silent, glaring. His knuckles turn white from clutching at the book and, more than anything, he hated himself for thinking something so stupid.
Antonio was giving him that hopelessly lost look – the kind of expression he always had. What a stupid fucker.
“Lovi,” Antonio said, softly, kindly – something that could make someone’s heart melt, if someone had any feelings for him. Good thing Lovino didn’t. Antonio took a step towards him and Lovino seized up.
“Stop acting like you give a shit about me!”
“But Lovi, of course I do! I care about you!” Antonio protested, and for half a second looked hurt.
Lovino ignored him. “Stop acting like you think I’m cute. Stop acting like you care about me or like me or love me, because I know you don’t.”
Antonio was gaping now. “But—”
“You act this way with everyone because you’re a fucking idiot but I’m sick of it. Go fuck around with someone else for all I care! Because I don’t care!”
Antonio was still gaping, clearly taken aback by Lovino’s outburst. He reached for Lovino again, but Lovino retreated, backing up a few steps to put distance between them.
“Lovi, of course I care about you. And of course I think you’re cute! You’re the cutest—”
“Seriously, fuck off!”
“But, of course you know that I lo—”
Lovino threw a book, and this time Antonio wasn’t ready to duck, so it hit right on his forehead. He gasped in surprsie, ducking his head and folding into himself. He held still, body tensed up from the shock. It was a heavy book, after all.
“Don’t fucking say it!” Lovino shouted. Something lodged in his throat. “Since when did you become such a fucking liar? What the hell is wrong with you? Don’t you dare – don’t you fucking say it.”
After a moment, Antonio managed to unfold himself. He lifted his head. Antonio stared at him, clearly at a loss for words. And looking concerned. What a fucking asshole.
He blinked a couple of times, looking straight at Lovino. Not looking away.
It was fucking unnerving.
“I don’t want to see your fucking face anymore, got it? I hate you! Get lost, asshole.”
And then he started throwing things again. This time, Antonio ducked away quickly. Lovino followed him, throwing things until Antonio was at the bottom of the staircase, looking up at Lovino – looking as if he would say something, as if he wanted to say something more than anything else. But Lovino kept throwing things, stomping down the stairs until Antonio started backing up again, reaching for the door.
Lovino waited until Antonio was outside before he slammed the door behind him.
---
Later that day he managed to calm down enough to start cleaning up the mess he’d made. It was a good thing this had happened. He’d needed to redecorate, anyway. Move furniture around. Clean windows. Get his mind off things.
Glancing out the window, he saw Feliciano walking with that potato bastard. It was soon enough after the world meetings that most of the countries were still in Rome, spending the day acclimating or preparing to leave again. Feliciano was smiling like the idiot he was, holding Ludwig’s hand.
Lovino watched as his brother lifted Ludwig’s hand and kissed it as if it was that easy, that simple.
Lovino was getting really fucking sick of crying.
---
So he wasn’t the winner in love after all. Antonio didn’t care about him any more than he cared about anyone else. Fucking hell.
The first few days, Antonio tried to visit Lovino. But after the plethora of flying objects all aimed at his head, the fucking idiot finally got a god damn clue. Lovino hadn’t seen him in days. Good.
He wasn’t the winner. But he wasn’t the loser, either. He didn’t love Antonio. Antonio didn’t love him. So it was a non-starter. There was no game at all.
That was probably for the best. Fucking Antonio!
---
To console himself and drive home the feeling of liberation, Lovino joined some of the other countries to go drinking. Of course Arthur, that damn lush, led the way. Antonio was there, too, but Lovino made sure to avoid him.
In actuality, most everyone stayed away. But that was fine. Lovino didn’t need company. Especially because there were pretty women nearby and Lovino could turn the charm on whenever he damn well pleased. A couple of times it looked as if Antonio would make his way towards him, but a quick glare from Lovino caused him pause, and that was long enough for Gilbert or Francis to capture Antonio’s arm and tug him away to pay attention to something else.
Good.
Fucking assholes.
So let the stupid countries drink with themselves, Lovino had a nice grouping of women to talk to. And he wasn’t glancing Antonio’s way on purpose, he just so happened to be in his line of sight – seated somewhere beyond one of the women’s right shoulder. And why the hell was Antonio staring at him anyway? What a creepy fucker. Every time Lovino glanced his way, Antonio just smiled that dumb-fuck smile of his, like Lovino was special – which he knew was definitely not the case.
Especially because Francis had his hand sliding up his shirt and the dipshit didn’t even realize. Lovino turned way in disgust, wrapping an arm around one o the women and focusing on enjoying their company. Fucking stupid Antonio wasn’t going to ruin his evening. If the bastard actually cared, he’d probably be jealous right now. So good thing he didn’t care. It was better for everyone, so long as Antonio didn’t get it into his head that there were enough women for the both of them – because fuck that.
He was probably too distracted by having Francis’ hands all over him. Fucking Antonio!
---
“Won’t you talk to him, Lovino?” Feliciano asked, fidgeting over their dinner. It’d been almost two weeks since the world meeting and Lovino was very pointedly having Nothing to Do with Antonio. That included ignoring calls, texts, and Facebook messages. He couldn’t really give less of a fuck. Good riddance.
“Why the hell would I?” Lovino snapped, and then tried to calm himself down. Indifference. That was what he should be showing. He took a sip of wine, made his shoulders relax.
“He doesn’t know what he did to make you so angry, but I’m sure…” Feliciano began.
“You’ve been talking to him, have you?” Lovino sneered over the lip of his glass. “About me behind my back? Fuck off.”
“I heard from Gilbert,” Feliciano whined. “We’re all worried and—”
“—Yeah right!” Lovino scoffed. “You just don’t like tension.”
“But, if you love each other—”
Lovino nearly spat out his wine. “Like hell I love that bastard! This conversation is over.”
“But—”
“Over.” Lovino inhaled sharply. “Keep talking about it and I’ll leave.” He paused, then added, “That asshole doesn’t love me and I sure as hell don’t love him.”
“But—”
“I don’t,” he snapped.
“But of course Big Brother Antonio loves you, Lovino! Anyone can see that,” he protested, and actually almost sounded forceful. “You’ve always been special to him.”
“Whatever. I don’t want to talk about it anymore. If I never see him again, that would be just fine.”
---
Lovino opened the door to his flat in Rome and saw Antonio sitting right fucking there on his fucking floor.
“… I’m going to fucking kill you, Feliciano,” he muttered and then sighed, loudly. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
“I wanted to talk,” Antonio said, expression serious. It was strange to see him not smiling – he almost looked like he had a brain. It’s a fucking miracle.
“I thought I couldn’t be clearer,” Lovino said, coolly. “I hate you and I don’t want to see you.”
“Well, I want to see you,” Antonio said, evenly. His eyes never left Lovino. He was frozen in place. Lovino could do nothing but stare back. Antonio straightened his back a little, hands folding together in his lap as he stared up at Lovino – expression calm, collected, pacifying. “I don’t know what I did to make you angry, but I want to know. What did I do? Can’t you tell me?”
Lovino continued to stare at him as if he’d grown two heads within the span of five minutes.
“Lovi,” Antonio said, softly, eyes bright and looking only at him.
The softness of the nickname snapped Lovino from his dazed confusion. He shook his head, frowning deeply. “The reason doesn’t matter.”
“It does to me.” Antonio didn’t turn his gaze away, but Lovino did – breaking the eye contact and looking away. Stared intently at a wall. Ignored Antonio.
Antonio sighed.
“Please, Lovino.”
Lovino sighed, too, frown lines etching themselves into his face. He stomped his way into his flat – honestly, accosted in his own home! – and kept his back to Antonio. He could feel the idiot standing up and following him.
Lovino breathed out. “I know you don’t care about me.”
“But of—”
“Fine. Maybe you care. But no more than you care about anyone else. You said so yourself.”
He turned to look at Antonio over his shoulder. Antonio just looked confused.
“I’d never say that, Lovi.”
“Well, you did,” Lovino snapped out. “You did and I heard it and it’s fine because it’s not like I care. It’s not like I love you —”
And as he finally said the words, to his horror, he realized they were the truth. He loved Antonio.
Well, fuck.
He felt himself tense up. He started stomping again, anything to distract himself from this dumbfuckery. God, was he really that pathetic? Apparently. How the hell could he love Antonio?
Fuck!
Antonio was grabbing Lovino’s wrist now, and Lovino froze up, the fire completely gone from his fight. He’d lost. He was the loser – he was fucking in love with Antonio – and Antonio, the dumb fuck, didn’t feel the same way—
“Lovi, of course I love you.”
—or not. Wait, no.
“Shut the hell up,” Lovino muttered. “Give it up. I heard you. I know you don’t love me. I don’t know what the hell the benefit of pretending you do is, but I’m seriously tired of it.”
“I always have,” Antonio said, and seemed to be ignoring Lovino completely now. “I… always thought that much was obvious – especially to you. And maybe I’m not always quick to understand things, and maybe I should have said it more to you, but – I thought you felt the same way, too.”
Lovino looked up in alarm. “What—”
“I mean what I say. And… before, I thought that we — understood each other.”
“Are you an idiot?” Lovino gasped out, gawking. “When the hell did that happen?”
“A few weeks ago. When we took that walk. I asked you if it was okay if we were together like this,” Antonio explained, his thumb brushing against the soft underside of Lovino’s wrist. Lovino continued to stare, as if Antonio really was deranged. Antonio smiled. “And you said it was fine.”
“Are you an idiot?” Lovino repeated.
Antonio laughed, a little self-consciously.
“I heard you say to your boss that you could never love me—!”
Antonio blinked in surprise, and seemed to think deeply about it. His brow furrowed.
“I don’t remember.”
“What? You dipshit! It was during the last world meeting!”
Antonio scrunched up his face and thought for a moment, and then understanding seemed to dawn.
“Oh. Oh! Of course!” he said. And then laughed.
“Don’t—! Don’t fucking laugh at me, you fucker!”
“But Lovi! My bosses always ask me that about you. They have for centuries now!”
Oh… Oh. Lovino stared at him.
“Then – why the hell did you lie?”
“What do you think would happen if an independent country admitted to loving another independent country? Or, well, half of one, at least. What do you think would happen, then, if governments and citizens knew that one country held another country higher than all the others?”
Lovino stared at him some more. And then felt like the biggest moron in the history of ever.
“… Oh.”
Antonio was smiling again. “I’m only ever asked about you – never anyone else. You’re important.”
“You – you should have fucking said something! How the hell am I just supposed to guess? You moron! You treat me like everyone else! You didn’t care if I’m surrounded by women because anybody could be groping you and you wouldn’t bat a fucking eyelash!”
Antonio’s brow furrowed as Lovino looked away, glaring at the wall and blushing.
“Are you jealous?”
“Fuck no!” Lovino snapped out. He was, though.
Antonio tilted his head to the side. “… Do you want me to be jealous?”
Lovino bit at the insides of his cheeks, for half a moment, and then said, “Fuck! Yes, okay? Of course I want you to be fucking jealous! I want you to give at least a flying shit, okay? You cause me all this shit and you’re never affected by anything and – fuck!”
Antonio was quiet, thinking. Lovino continued to glare at the wall. Maybe if he glared long enough he could activate the secret passage that would open up and swallow him whole.
And then Antonio’s hand touched his face. Turned it slowly so that they were looking at each other again.
“Lovi,” Antonio said, softly. “Of course I get jealous.”
Lovino looked incredulous.
“I’d give anything for you to smile at me like the way you smile at them. Don’t get me wrong, your grumpy face is really cute, but…”
Lovino continued to stare some more. That was it. He’d landed in some bizarro zone. The end. Antonio wasn’t even being a fucking idiot for once. Clearly the world was going to end.
And God, his heart was doing this stupid pitter-patter thing like he was some goddamn teenaged human.
He ducked his head.
“… You’re a fucking idiot.”
“So harsh,” Antonio said with a laugh.
Lovino turned and pressed his face into Antonio’s shoulder. At least this way he didn’t have to look at Antonio. Or feel like a completely idiot.
Antonio wrapped his arms around him, holding him close, pressing his cheek against the top of his head.
“I love you,” Antonio whispered, quietly.
Lovino blushed and muttered, “Fine.” He clenched his eyes shut. “I hereby give you permission to do so.”
Antonio laughed and it was a deep rumbling against his ear. “Does that mean you love me, too, Lovi?”
Lovino tensed up and then scoffed. “Think what you want, you asshole. As if I’d love you.”
Antonio laughed again, and pulled Lovino closer, arms still curled around him.
“I’m glad.”
“Whatever.”
He didn’t let Antonio pull away, though.