literature

SpaMano-The Flames of the Heart

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DummkopfGermany's avatar
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He was alone. Who was he kidding? He was always alone. It didn't matter anyways. He knew how people saw him, how everyone felt about him. They all hated him. He didn't blame them though. Who could come to like someone like him anyways? No one cared about how he was, or even who he was.They all liked his little brother better than him. The cute, adorable, lovable Feliciano. No one even cared to notice poor Lovino.





He sat in the dark corner of the antiquarian-style living room of the vast, lonely house he had come to know as "home". His face was drawon in a scornful and depressed pout. His knees drawn up to his chest, he sat in bitter silence, listening to all the creaks and sounds an old house makes. He flinched suddenly as the high-pitched doorbell broke through the silence.





"Lovino! It's me! I'm home!" a deep, broad voice exclaimed from beyond the heavy oak door.





A Spanish accent. It was Antonio. He was the Master of the house. The one who forced Lovino to stay there, to work for him. Everything. Lovino hated Antonio with every fiber of his being. How sweet he acted towards him, how kind he was to him. He despised how well he hid his disapproval and disappointment of him. How much he made him feel loved and wanted. It made him sick, knowing it was all fake. He sat there, glaring at the door, refusing to move. The doorbell rang again.





"Lovi! It's Antonio! Let me in!" more shouts emanated from behind the main door.




 


Lovino didn't move, but growled to himself before yelling back at him.





"You own the house, Bastard! Open it your damn self!"





The house went miserably quiet for a moment, too long of a moment. Lovino shot up from the floor and ran to the door in exasperation, but haltered as he saw the brass doorknob begin to turn. The heavy door swung open to reveal the tan Spaniard. His usually vibrant, emerald green eyes, were dull and tired. His dark brown hair was hidden behind the tattered feather hat he always wore. The cloak that was draped upon his shoulders, was torn and stained. He looked down to the young Italian and smiled brightly.





"Hola, Lovi!" he said cheerfully, his voice and expression contrasting greatly with his appearance.





Lovino merely turned from him and scoffed. He was used to seeing him coming home like this.





"You're late, Bastard." he replied bluntly, his back turned to him.





"I know. I'm sorry. Don't worry though! I'll make it up to you! I'll go make us some lunch." and with that, he veered off towards the kitchen.





The Italian muttered to himself and pouted once more, then followed stubbornly behind him.




 ~~~~~~~~~




 It was late afternoon the next day, and Lovino found himself wandering the large house, alone once again. Antonio had told him the night before that it would be at least a good five hours before he could return home.





"Damn Idiota~" The Italian muttered to himself.





He slumped down on the old, worn-down couch in the living room, and jolted as he heard the high droning of the doorbell.




 


~~~~~~~~~





Antonio was at war. Every morning when he left, he made sure not to wake Lovino as he went off to fight. Netherands was a tough opponent though, especially since England have given him some power. He sighed as he made his way home on foot. His cloak had been sliced down the back while in battle.





"Lovino will probably be curious." he mumbled softly to himself as he walked along.





His mind also seemed to be at battle itself. What if she did notice the cloak? How long would this war wage on for? What if he got terribly hurt the next time? What if Lovino found out? No. He couldn't let that happen. Never. He didn't want him to know that he put himself at risk each day. He wanted Lovino to be happy, to feel safe. Even if he had to keep him from knowing there was a war going on to keep it that way. He quickly swiped those thoughts from his mind.





"I know he'll be hungry though." he smiled to himself as he made his way around the corner to his house. "I know! I'll make some churros! Those will definately-" He stopped short. Before him his house stood, drenched in a mass of flames. They stretched to the skies, making the clear sky a sickly gray with smoke. He stood in shock. His mouth agape, all he could do was stare for a brief moment. Some had gathered to try and douse the flames, but it was no use. The fire was overwhelming. Then suddenly, Antonio broke into a run. Flying past the people's pleas to wait, that the fire was too much, he bolted into the house. At first it was hard for him to breathe. The toxic fumes filled his lungs. He wiped at his eyes that stung from the dust and heat and from the fire. Without thinking, he continued to run throughout the house, calling out Lovino's name.





"Lovi! Lovino! Where are you?!" his voice came out hoarse and dry.





His heart was beating painfully fast in his chest. Glancing in every direction, he began to cough and almost choke as the smoke thickened deeper inside the house. He was running out of time. Coughing, sputtering, tears filled his eyes from the painful dust. His movements became more frantic, his voice quavered as he called out the Italian's name. Fearing the worst, he froze abruptly at the sight before him.





Lovino lay, sprawled out upon the floor, unconscious. Antonio's breath caught in his throat at the sight, at the flames that encircled the small Italian's body. His eyes wide with fear, he ran to Lovino's side and took him into his arms. He sprinted back towards the main door. Debris, hunks of flaming wood fell around them. Clutching the unconcious boy to his chest, he hastily avoided it all. Rushing out the door to the fresh air, he inhaled deeply as he collapsed to the dirt road. Shaking terribly, he laid down the Italian before him.





"Lovi! Lovino!" the Spaniard exclaimed, his voice staggering.





He pressed his lips to the boys and exhaled, pulling away and pressing down upon his chest several times.





"Lovino! Please!" Only managing to breathe out a few words, he continued the frantic motions.





Slowly, Lovino began to stir. His eyes fluttering open, he sat up idly, coughing and sputtering slightly.





"W-Where am I? What happened?" the Italian asked slowly, as if searching for the words.





Antonio swiftly enfolded him in his arms. Almost crying, he mumbled unfathomable words happily. He was overjoyed, even as the Italian struggled in his grip, he held onto him tightly.





"Lovi! Lovi! Lovi!"





"What, Bastard?! Just speak!" Lovino groaned, as he continued to try and get out of Antonio's grip.





"I'm just so happy that you're safe!" he smiled, refusing to let him go.





In a last effort to escape his grasp, he pushed the Spaniard away.





"You should have just let me die!"





The Spaniard's joyful expression faded.





"Qué?" his voice was soft, almost imperceptible.





"You heard me, Bastard! You should have let me die! Everyone would be much happier that way!" he shouted at him, tears welling up in his eyes. "I know you would have been!"





"Lovi! No! What are you saying?"





"You're just like everyone else! You hate me like they all do!" he bawled, warm tears streaking down his face.





The Spaniard's face altered. He took the distraught Italian by the hands and stared deeply into his watery brown eyes. 





"Lovi, I could never hate you." his voice was deep, stern.





"Yes you do!" the Italian fought back, avoiding the Spaniard's gaze.





"No, Lovi. I don't."





"Yes you DO! You like Feliciano better, I bet you even LOVE him!"





"Lovi, I don't love Feliciano." he took Lovino's face gently in his hands, turning him towards himself until his thoughtful eyes met the Italian's own. "I love you."





Lovino's eyes shot open as he felt Antonio's lips meet his own. His muscles tensed at first, but he slowly eased into it, finding himself kissing back. Closing his eyes, they both remained entranced in the soft and warm embrace. Breaking the kiss slowly, as if not wantin it to end, Lovino stood in bewilderment, unable to speak. Antonio stood up stoutly, smiling down to him warmly.





"I love you Lovi. I always have."





Lovino looked up to him, still speechless, almost unable to comprehend what had just happened. The Spaniard cradled him in his arms once again, the house in flames behind them.





"I love you Lovi. I love you."







 







 







 







 







 

This is a different version than the one I did for english, but I guess it's still okay. I hope you all like it. Please don't mock it~.....I'm not good at romance
© 2013 - 2024 DummkopfGermany
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Ask-CelestialPlains's avatar
Why u be so amaaaaaziiiiiiiing?! ;w; my feels are all over the place and now I have to get them from going in the cookie jar. Bravo just bravo.