Lies: Spamano Oneshot

Lovino Vargas watched Antonio's sulky figure trudging steadily away from his house. He slammed the front door. Hard. Dammit. Why couldn't he ever be honest? Why did it always end with him insulting Antonio? Antonio had gotten really hurt this time, too.
     
He threw himself onto the couch, and then got up off of it, remembering the countless of times that he and Antonio had sat on it together. In fact, everything in the house reminded him of Antonio.
     
Lovino picked up the phone (inwardly cringing, remembering the many times that he had called Antonio on it, usually to yell at him), and called his stupid younger brother, in hopes that his childishness and wimpy rambling would make him feel better, or make him explode with even more rage. Either way, it'd get his mind off of Antonio.

"Pronto?" Feliciano Vargas answered.

"Hey, stupid little brother—"

"Veh~! Oh, it's you, big brother! Listen; I'll call you back later, I've gotta—" Feliciano was interrupted by the sound of a rough voice, thick with a German accent. "Bye, big brother!" The line went dead.

Well, that hadn't helped at all. Feli gets all the luck, thought Lovino glumly. Grandpa Rome had always liked him better… He has no trouble with Ludwig… Romano continued to wander around the house. Everything he looked at sent a stab through his heart. Why couldn't his life go right for once, like Feliciano's?

The abrupt sound of his phone's ringtone shook Lovino out of his thoughts. The caller ID…

"Oi, bastardo!"

"Hello, Lovino," Antonio answered stiffly. Lovino bit his tongue. Maybe he shouldn't have answered the phone so rudely. Antonio must really be steamed—he hardly every called Lovino 'Lovino;' it had always been 'Lovi.'

Unable to contain himself though, Lovino snapped, "What do you want?" Huh. Improvement. He had left the usual 'bastardo' out.

"I accidentally left a box of tomatoes at your place." Lovino had never heard Antonio so monotone before…

"Yeah. And now you expect to get them, bastardo?" Lovino snapped. Antonio didn't care about him, after all. Just his tomatoes.

"If it's alright with you," Antonio replied frostily, driving icicles into Lovino's heart. He hung up. This was the first time that Antonio had hung up on him—the Spaniard was usually too kind to do anything like that.

Lovino spotted the box of tomatoes. They probably had been originally for him, too. He kicked the crate, and a pleasurable pain shot up his leg.

The doorbell rang. Lovino, slightly limping, went out to greet Antonio.

This was the first time that Lovino had seen Antonio so… emotionless. Antonio always had a smile plastered to his face, something that Lovino would usually always complain about, but secretly loved. Now, Antonio stared at everything with an icy look.

Lovino gestured to the tomato box, scowling, as his heart internally sank down to the pit of his stomach at his love's changed facial expression. Antonio took the box, and started to leave, but Lovino couldn't stand letting him go; no, not like this…

"Bastardo. Where are you going?" Lovino winced. What a stupid question. He could already guess the answer.

"Francis's. Gilbert's there too. We're just gonna talk and stuff," Antonio replied coolly, then started to walk away again.

Antonio had changed. And it was all Lovino's fault.

He wasn't even aware of speaking them, but the truth practically jumped out of his mouth, desperate to escape after so many years…

"TI AMO, BASTARDO!"

Lovino watched as Antonio's backside figure froze. Lovino could feel the tears coming, but no one would see him cry, especially not Antonio… He turned back into the house, about to slam the door in fury and disappointment once more, but then he heard a loud thud as Antonio dropped the tomato crate, and took Lovino's hand. Lovino looked up, his amber eyes meeting the emerald ones, and his heart rising as he could see that the Antonio he knew and loved slowly coming back. Antonio's trademark grin worked its way onto his face, and then Antonio took Lovino by surprise—their first kiss.

Telling the truth had never felt so good.