Chapter Text
If Antonio had just fucking listened to him earlier and hadn’t condemned him to waiting alone with his brother, Lovino wouldn’t be stuck thrashing against this bastard stowaway that had him thrown over his shoulder. He finds he’s more irritated than panicked; Lovino has encountered some truly intimidating pirates in the handful of years he’s been at sea, and these three are pathetic in comparison. These idiots clearly had no plan past tying them up and gagging them, and they couldn’t even do that right! Lovino had gotten his gag loose enough to fall away embarrassingly easy -- if his brother’s life hadn’t been in danger, he thinks he would have mocked them for the pitiful situation.
He had calmed down even further once he had witnessed the unpleasant sight of Feliciano’s captor’s execution thanks to Emma’s sharp eye and quick hand, having a full view of the pirate’s skull exploding outwards in all its excruciating, gory detail. With the reassuring sight of Feliciano scrambling away from the bastard's corpse, he can focus back on his bindings, furiously fighting against his restraints in an attempt to get free. He’s not getting very far, the rope around his wrists and ankles uncomfortably tight to the point it’s almost cutting off his circulation, and no matter how much he struggles with the knots they don’t seem to be coming undone.
Lovino hears Antonio shout something from the main deck and looks back up to see both his Captain and João rushing towards him as the stowaway finally comes to a stop at the back of the ship, and the sight brings a twinge of relief to his chest before he struggles harder with his ropes. (So these assholes can’t tie a gag worth shit, but their rope knots are perfect? What bullshit -- he just wants to get out of these fucking bindings!)
Before he knows what’s happening, he’s airborne, and a startled scream escapes Lovino’s chest as he realizes he’s plummeting fast. He hits the surface of the sea with a painful splash, and then his vision goes dark as water swirls over him and he starts to sink, trapped in his constraints and unable to swim properly.
Lovino is hit with immediate panic when he realizes he can’t see anything in the black, stinging darkness of the Mediterranean Sea. He tries to wriggle upwards in an attempt to swim, but his constraints are too tight and his unintentional scream has stolen some of his few precious seconds of air. It’s too dark, the murky depths too heavy as they press all around him -- and his panic turns into full blown terror when his mind is flashing him back somewhere else, somewhere he hasn't been in years. Suddenly he’s not in the ocean anymore, he’s trapped in that horrible, dark room and he’s beating on the door with his fists until his knuckles bleed, screaming till his throat is raw because he can’t breathe and he just wants out--!!
Lovino doesn’t realize he’s gasping before he finds himself choking on brine, nearly hysterical as he tries to find air and he only finds the inky blackness of the Mediterranean as he fills his lungs with it.
He can’t breathe, he can’t see, it’s cold, and he’s alone.
Disquieting calmness overtakes him as he slips further into unconsciousness, the black surrounding him as he disappears deeper beneath the sea -- and the last thing he feels before he goes completely under is a strong grip around his wrists.
....
…
..
.
The green-eyed bastard keeps staring at Lovino from across the tavern, and it’s starting to piss him off.
It’s been over a year since Lovino started sneaking out after dark, making his way down to the dockside and into the many bars and taverns that lay scattered in its constantly busy marketplace. This is the one thing in his life he enjoys: his ability to escape down to the fast-paced community of the constantly changing docks that he doesn’t get at home. He doesn’t have to worry about his brother, his grandfather, or his duties -- he can simply sit down by himself and enjoy a drink as he finds entertainment in observing the people that surround him.
Lovino usually takes the seat at the far corner of this bar to have a good view of the whole place, able to people-watch and eavesdrop on the traveling patrons that come and go without being noticed easily. Normally, everyone leaves him alone. The barkeep knows his face and understands Lovino’s not one for small talk, guiding other curious patrons away from him if they ever ask for details. Lovino appreciates it so much he makes sure to leave a few more lira than he owes for his drinks before he leaves for the night. Anyone who doesn’t listen is quickly scared off by his sharp tongue, and even with the amount of travelers that come in and out of the port, Lovino is known to be someone who’s meant to be avoided.
It seems that tonight, however, there is a particular man who has ignored the warnings of the room and made it his personal mission to stare Lovino down with the world’s stupidest grin -- and his scrutiny is drawing other sets of eyes from across the tavern when they notice him leering too. Lovino’s quiet corner has now become a magnet for unwanted attention, and it’s fucking irritating.
If this bastard approaches him, Lovino thinks he’ll end up using his concealed dagger for the first time in his life just to gouge his eyes out. That’d teach him to gawk at people.
There are two blond patrons with the asshole: a man and a woman that seem to be around the same age. The man keeps making attempts to pull the dark haired stranger’s attention back to a parchment that’s rolled out across the table, looking more and more frustrated the longer he’s ignored. The woman seems amused at their antics, chin in her palms as she leans forward and watches the exchange with a cat-like grin.
The blond man takes a glance at Lovino, raising an eyebrow, then leans back in towards the asshole that’s staring and murmurs something low to him. The asshole grins, replying with something quick, and then the two shake hands as the dark-haired one stands and the blond one rests back in his chair, arms folded across his chest.
Lovino’s stomach lurches when all three of the strangers turn to stare at him, and -- oh, fuck, was that stupid asshole coming over to talk to him? He clenches his jaw, trying to curb his irritation when the dark-haired man strides towards him with the confidence of someone who doesn’t know they’re heading into the lion’s den, a smug grin plastered on his face as he approaches Lovino’s place at the bar.
When he finally reaches Lovino’s side, he leans on the bartop and gives him a coy smile -- but Lovino doesn’t even give him a chance to speak.
“Get the fuck out of my face,” he orders. Instantly the man’s face blanches, smile disappearing as his eyes widen. Lovino notices the blond man he was sitting with snort back a laugh, quickly turning away as he pulls his scarf over his mouth to try and hide his laughter and failing as his shoulders shake. The woman seems just as amused, snickering to herself without bothering to hide it.
The man in front of Lovino fumbles out a response, trying to replace his confident smile. “A-Ah, signore, you haven’t even let me say--”
“I know what you’re going to say,” Lovino deadpans as he looks away, taking a sip of his drink. “I’m not interested. Get the fuck out of my face.”
The bastard stares at him again, his bright green eyes alight with shock and something resembling fascination, and then he blows his hair out of his face. “Mierda,” he mumbles, a nervous smile growing on his face. “I have to admit -- this is new. I’ve never had this happen to me before.”
Lovino finishes his drink in one final gulp, dropping some coins on the bartop before he goes to leave. “Glad I could be your first experience of rejection,” he says, putting his hands in his pockets and pushing past the man without a second thought. “Better luck next time.”
The Spanish bastard rubs the back of his head, chuckling. “Oh, I haven’t lost yet!” he says cheerfully, and Lovino rolls his eyes as he makes his way to the door, not looking back. The man’s accented voice echoes out from the bar behind him, making Lovino grit his teeth in irritation as he feels eyes following him once again. “Have a good night, signore!”
Maybe Lovino won’t sneak out tomorrow, if just to avoid this dumb bastard.
The asshole is persistent; Lovino has to hand it to him. This is the fourth night in a row the guy has come up to him while he’s sat at this bar alone, and the fourth time he’s asked to buy him a drink -- Lovino is about to deny him rudely (for a fourth fucking time!) but he just can’t help his curiosity.
“What part of “get the fuck out of my face” don’t you seem to understand?” he asks shortly, and a grin flickers onto this man’s face, warm and giddy.
“My Italian isn’t very good?” he tries, hand on his hip as he leans on the bartop and props his head up with an arm. Lovino isn’t sure if he’s trying to appear suave with the pose, but regardless of his intent it makes him look like an asshole. He’s also a liar -- while his Italian is a little accented, he speaks it with enough confidence to fool anyone into believing he’s been speaking it his whole life.
Lovino snorts and looks away. “Do you need me to say it in English then? Or is Spanish more your speed?”
The man’s eyes brighten in excitement, his smile widening. “¿Tú hablas español?”
Lovino feels his mouth twitch, but he’s unsure whether it’s a smug smile or an annoyed grimace. “Of course I know Spanish -- I was born and raised in Naples, bastard.” Then he flushes, unsure why he divulged something so personal so quickly. He tries to play off his embarrassment with a huff, averting his eyes to his empty glass. “Anyway, fuck off. Váyase. Va al diavolo. How many other ways do I have to tell you to leave me the fuck alone?”
“A Neapolitan?” the man echoes, adjusting so his back is leaned against the bar and very obviously not leaving. “Mind if I ask why you’re here in Genoa? Are you just passing through or do you live here?”
Lovino groans, dropping his head low. “I tell the guy to fuck off, and he responds by asking me where I live. Perfect,” he grumbles to himself, then he raises his head back up to fixes the Spaniard with a glare. “Are you drunk or just stupid? What makes you think I want to have a conversation with you?”
The stranger grins. “You’re still talking to me now, aren’t you?”
Lovino flushes. Asshole. “That’s because you’re bothering me.”
The asshole cocks his head to the side, amusement glimmering in his green eyes. “Clearly not enough to leave.”
That takes him by surprise, and Lovino is unable to help himself from blinking dumbly at him. “Excuse me?” he asks, cheeks growing hot with embarrassment when the man’s grin widens wolfishly. Lovino scoffs -- not a laugh, never a laugh! “I shouldn’t have to leave, you approached me! If this is just some fucked up way to kick me out of my seat-- ”
The man throws his head back in a brilliant laugh, cutting him off. “No, of course not! I’d never ask such a beautiful man to get out of his seat.” His smile softens just a bit, appearing more genuine than smug. “All I want is a conversation, bonito. I just want to know why someone so lovely is frowning so deeply while he’s sitting by himself in such a lively place.”
Lovino stares at him, unable to find his words as he burns in embarrassment at the flurry of compliments he’s received in succession. He’s been on the receiving end of smooth-talkers before, and he can usually sniff out someone trying to woo him for superficial reasons and nothing more. Despite the strange interaction this man had with his blond friend the other night, something about the way he’s talking feels earnest -- even if the amount of admiration that he’s throwing Lovino’s way is a little overbearing to the point of parody. Lovino can’t help but give into his curiosity, but not before calling him out first.
“You sure do talk a lot of shit,” Lovino mutters, averting his gaze as he rolls his empty glass around in his hand. “Where are your friends tonight? Seems pretty foolish to try and win a wager when neither of them are around to witness it.”
The stranger blinks, tipping his head to the side like a dog that was given a conflicting command. “I’m sorry -- wager?”
Lovino snorts. “Don’t play dumb with me. I saw you make a bet with that tall asshole you were sitting with the other night before you came to bother me.” He raises an eyebrow. “It takes a little more than hollow compliments to get me to give into a stranger’s demands.”
“They aren’t hollow,” the man is countering immediately, looking confused, but then he smiles again. Does he look nervous? “As for my companions, my intent has nothing to do with them. I'm here alone tonight, and for my own reasons -- and I have to insist that I’m not demanding you speak with me, I’m making a request. I really do just want to buy you a drink and talk. I’ll leave you alone if you tell me to.”
So he wasn’t here on a bet? Lovino still shoots him a distrustful look. “And I’m just supposed to ignore the fact you’ve bothered me for the past three nights? How am I supposed to believe you when you haven’t listened to me before tonight?”
The man’s smile turns a little sheepish, rubbing the back of his neck. “Ah… that can be blamed on my selfishness. My apologies -- you just seem troubled, and I want to offer an ear to try and alleviate some of that stress from your shoulders if you’d allow me the time. I promise that this will be my final attempt. If you really want me to leave you alone, I will and I won’t approach you again. It’s your choice.”
Lovino opens his mouth to tell him off, but then he finds himself hesitating. God, why did this asshole have to sound so genuinely kind when he said such things? He purses his lips. “And you have no ulterior motives for wanting me to let my guard down around you?” he asks, and the man gives him a wry smile.
“You have full control of the conversation, bonito,” he says, placing a hand over the golden cross that hangs from the chain around his neck. “I swear on my life -- I’m entirely on your time.”
Lovino stares for a moment longer, but then he sighs.
He must be out of his fucking mind.
“I’m not cheap,” he warns, but apparently it's enough of an answer for the man because he beams as he hurries off to flag down the bartender with a bag of coins. He doesn’t even give Lovino enough time to regret his decision before he’s returning, carrying two glasses of something expensive -- Lovino has to give him points for that.
“First, introductions are in order!” he says with a grin, sliding Lovino his glass before sitting in the stool next to him. “My name is Antonio -- and you, bonito? ”
Lovino notes how Antonio hasn't shared his last name. He supposes it only makes sense: there were always too many kinds of shady people at this bar with it being so close to the docks. He would be more uncomfortable with it if he also wasn't going to give this Antonio a fake name. “Don't call me that,” he warns, and then he averts his eyes to the table. “I’m Romano.”
“Romano…” Antonio repeats, feeling the name out in his mouth before he smiles. “That's a lovely name. It suits you.”
It takes everything in Lovino not to laugh.
“You think so?”
.
..
…
....
When he slowly comes to, Lovino doesn’t know where he is. He’s floating in a sea of nothingness, unable to see anything with a heavy weight on his chest that’s making it impossible to breathe. He’s aware of someone murmuring to him but he can’t make out what they’re saying -- the words too faint and garbled to make sense of.
Is he… dead?
The void surrounding him is certainly not Heaven, but that’s unsurprising. Lovino knows he isn't bound for paradise with the laundry-list of atrocities he’s committed. On the other hand, this place also seems too calm for Hell -- the quiet and easy darkness around him much too kind for eternal damnation. Purgatory, perhaps? It’d explain the extreme amount of pressure on his chest. Maybe it’s the weight of his sins he has to shed before he’s allowed through the pearly gates.
The whispering around him sounds desperate and heartbroken, but Lovino still can’t make out what they’re saying. All he knows is that the tone is making his already heavy chest ache with a longing and horrible hurt, desperate to make the pain in that voice stop.
Fuck, does his chest hurt -- it’s the only thing he can focus on as he slips under once again.
....
…
..
.
“Um, I apologize, Romano, but I’ll be leaving for a bit after tonight.”
Lovino puts down his drink to stare at Antonio, who’s rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment. What, after meeting here nearly every night for nearly two weeks, the bastard decides he’s sailing off to God knows where and doesn’t even let him know ahead of time? Lovino snorts as he looks away, hoping his disappointment isn’t obvious.
“You could have just said you weren’t sticking around at the beginning of this,” he says flatly. He doesn’t say specifically what “this” is, because that would imply that he was expecting their nightly meetings to mean something. They didn’t -- just like how it meant nothing that Lovino has been sneaking out twice as often as he normally did to make sure he could continue meeting with him.
(It also meant nothing that Antonio has kept his promise since the first night they started talking, allowing Lovino to take control of every conversation they have. It meant nothing that Antonio is the first person that wasn’t family that Lovino has felt comfortable enough opening up to. It meant nothing that his heart fluttered any time he got Antonio to laugh -- and it definitely meant nothing that Lovino has started thinking about him during the day while he shepherded Feliciano around to all his lessons.)
(That’d all be ridiculous.)
Antonio’s smile twitches upward. “Oh no. Are you upset, Roma?”
“Of course I’m not,” Lovino snaps, feeling the heat in his cheeks as he swallows a mouthful of his alcohol. Antonio laughs softly, cradling his hands around his own glass.
“Then I’m sure you won’t care to know I’ll be back in about a month?” he says next, and he grins when he notices Lovino’s slight pause. He continues. “I wasn't planning on leaving Genoa so quickly, but I’ve gotten word of some unexpected news, and this issue requires my attention.” He laughs. “I’m still disappointed I have to leave. I’ve grown quite fond of seeing you here.”
“Hm.” Lovino doesn't appreciate the hum to his heart, pretending to be indifferent even though he’s giddy with alcohol and happy feelings. He sips at his drink. “Maybe I won’t be here in a month.”
“Oh.” Antonio’s smile falls, crestfallen. “I suppose that’s fair. I still hope that you’ll be here when I return.” He gives Lovino a sidelong glance, and it's like he's unable to stop his smile from creeping back to its full size. “I mean it when I say I’ve enjoyed our time together. I’d even go as far as to say that you’re my favorite part of being in Genoa -- you’ve made this whole stop worth it.”
That’s something that Lovino has learned about Antonio after the past week and a half -- he’s ridiculously sincere, and every truth that comes past his lips has Lovino’s heart yearning more and more. It's the reason why Lovino felt so comfortable around him, the reason why he's complained about his brother and his grandfather and his dissatisfaction with his life. He still never used their names (he’s not an idiot) but Antonio never pressed him for them and was simply content to listen to him speak for what ended up to be hours -- there’s been a few close calls where Lovino had almost been caught sneaking back home because he stayed out too late, lost in conversation with this Spaniard.
Lovino swallows thickly, nodding as he stares into the amber liquid in his glass. “I…” he trails off, unsure what to say, and then he looks in the direction opposite of his companion as a furious blush betrays him. “Y-You’re far less irritating than you first made yourself out to be.”
There’s a moment of silence, and then Antonio laughs loudly, a beacon of bright sunlight in this crowded bar filled with travelers, merchants, and pirates. It’s such a beautiful sound that brings Lovino’s normally chaotic thoughts into a gentle calm -- and with that realization Lovino stops, because when the fuck did he start waxing poetic about a man’s laugh of all things?
“You’re wonderful, Roma.”
Lovino startles and looks up to find Antonio beaming at him with a rosy tint to his face and neck, so utterly starry-eyed that it almost makes Lovino choke on his air. He stares for just a bit too long, peering into those warm green eyes with his heart hammering in his chest -- and Lovino has to down the rest of the alcohol in his glass to gather the courage to keep speaking without his voice cracking.
“Don’t forget about me, bastard,” he grumbles.
Antonio gifts him another sunny laugh, leaning into his side affectionately. “As if I ever could."
Lovino feels like a fucking idiot. Here he is, sitting at the same spot a month after Antonio had sailed off to deal with his personal business, and of course the Spanish jackass hasn’t come back like he had promised. It’s getting late too -- while he’s thrown off his grandfather’s suspicion of his nightly escapes down to the docks, he still can’t be out too early in the morning. He’d like to refrain from losing his few precious freedoms by being caught.
(Lovino supposes with a bitter scowl that even if Grandpa did know about his sneaking out, he wouldn’t particularly care as long as Feliciano didn’t get involved.)
Not only is it getting late, the crowd is getting rowdier than it normally does tonight. Lovino usually enjoys the energy of the crowd down here, feeling connected to a part of something bigger when he sits in the lively atmosphere of the tavern without needing to involve himself in the excitement, but he doesn’t appreciate how often it leads to brawling -- pirates and sailors alike more content to fight things out while they’re on land than trapped on a ship for weeks at a time.
Grandpa says it’s because none of them have manners, but Lovino knows that excuse is a load of bullshit. He’s heard the stories of Augustus’ unchecked younger years when he traveled up and down the Italian peninsula before either he or Feliciano were born -- some of those stories could put even the wildest corsairs to shame.
With the sound of a broken bottle, another fight breaks out across the room and Lovino decides he’s waited long enough for Antonio to show up, not wanting to get caught in the brawl. He’s frustrated that his heart aches so terribly in his disappointment, and he stiffly jerks up out of his seat and slaps some coins on the bartop to pay for his single drink before storming out of the tavern.
Serves him right for being hopeful.
He’s on his way home before someone calls out behind him.
“Oi -- you there!”
The voice is unfamiliar and intoxicated, speaking in drawling English rather than Italian, and it doesn’t sit well with Lovino. Knowing it’d be better to leave than get involved with him, he ignores the voice and increases his pace, arms tightening across his chest as he reminds himself of the dagger he’s keeping under his coat for situations exactly like this.
Unluckily for him, the man follows after him at the same pace.
“Don’t be like that, boy -- I saw you waiting at the bar all by your lonesome! Were you stood up?”
Normally, he’d continue to ignore him and try to shake him off by diving into a crowd, but there aren’t many people out on the streets tonight since it’s so late. Maybe it’s because he’s pissed off that Antonio never showed up, but he finds himself wanting to take his rage out on someone else before he gets home. At least that way he wouldn’t snap at Feliciano for something undeserved the moment his little brother pushed him tomorrow morning.
“Fuck off,” Lovino snaps, not bothering to turn around. “I’m not in the mood.”
His irritation flickers with anxiety when the man laughs and doesn’t slow his pace, keeping up with him easily. Lovino knows he could definitely incapacitate this man if he needs to, but he would rather not have to involve himself in a fight -- it’d be a surefire way for Grandpa to find out about his trips down to the docks if the Navy got involved.
Instead, he takes the first turn he sees in order to escape. He’s not concerned with getting lost; he’s spent enough time down here over the past few months that he’s confident in his ability to weave in and out of the various twists and turns between buildings and merchant tents to be able to avoid any unwanted attention. It was easy: a simple left that took him through to the other side, then he could tuck himself into the alleyway that snuck behind the blacksmith's shop and -- son of a bitch.
His sudden turn sends him directly into the dead-end wall of an alleyway even though he swears there was a path through here, his terrible luck rearing its ugly head once again. Lovino swears when he hears his pursuer quickening his pace, snatching his dagger before he spins around and holds it out in a warning stance.
“I mean it, bastard,” he hisses. “Stay the fuck away from me.”
The man is a sailor in his later years, rough in appearance and gray streaked through his beard. He stumbles to a halt when he sees the knife in Lovino's hand, but then a grin spreads on his face, eyebrows rising in amusement.
“You don't know how to use that,” he says with an unreasonable amount of confidence. Lovino snorts, about to open his mouth and answer, but then a voice cuts him off.
“Maybe he doesn’t, but I do.”
A second figure appears from the shadows behind the stranger and snatches the man from behind, whirling him around to throw him into the wall before pressing his own knife into his neck -- it takes Lovino a second to recognize it as Antonio, and then his heart is pounding harder as a wave of fluttery affection is dousing his anxiety.
Antonio smiles pleasantly, a glint in his eye that seems… uncomfortably more dangerous than anything Lovino's ever seen on him before. “I’ll be quick as to not waste your time, señor,” he murmurs. “I suggest you leave this young man alone and take yourself back to your crew. It’d be a shame if your captain couldn’t find you in the morning before they set off. Don’t you agree?”
The stranger tries to nod, forgetting the knife at his throat, and winces when the blade cuts into his neck. “A-Aye,” he says shakily, and Antonio releases him with that same smile on his face, putting his hands on his hips and taking a step backwards to stand in front of where Lovino is still frozen in place.
“Have a good night!” he calls with an uneasy amount of cheer, waving as the sailor hurries away back towards the tavern. He waits until they’re finally alone to turn around, his smile gone and concern bright in his green eyes. “Are you alright, Roma?”
Lovino stares. “You’re here.”
Fuck, he hadn’t meant to say that. The surprised look Antonio gives him is enough to make him blush furiously, fumbling for something less embarrassing to say. “Y-You kept me waiting, bastard.”
Antonio is silent for a moment before a brilliant smile rises onto his face. “Sí, I’m here! I’m sorry I’m late.” He sheathes his dagger back at his side as he fixes Lovino with a nervous smile, eyes flickering to the blade in his hands. “I know you’re probably upset with me, but… the dagger’s a little much, don’t you think?”
The what? Lovino looks down to look at the knife in his hands, having already forgotten he was still holding it out. He clears his throat and puts it back in its hidden sheath, scrambling for his pride. “I had everything under control, you know?” he says hotly, crossing his arms and glaring indignantly. “I also know how to use a dagger, asshole -- that’s the first thing they taught me to fight with. I’m not an idiot.”
With a laugh, Antonio absentmindedly fidgets with the green silk tied around his waist to hide the dagger away again. “Of course you do, I’m sorry for assuming.” He hums, glancing over his shoulder in the direction the stranger had disappeared as his smile grows melancholic. “I… suppose I got here too late. You were probably heading home for the evening.”
“I can stay for a little bit!" Lovino answers too quickly. Antonio's head moves just as fast as Lovino's mouth, turning to look at him curiously before his head cocks to the side in that frustratingly endearing way that Lovino has been thinking about constantly for the past month. Lovino struggles to appear more nonchalant, shrugging. “I mean… obviously not for very long. You really are late, after all.”
Dear Lord in Heaven, does the thrilled smile Antonio face him with send his heart into the stars. “Oh, wonderful!” he responds before his bright smile flickers with something tense, looking over his shoulder again in the direction of the tavern. “Do you mind if we avoid the tavern tonight? I’m… not sure if I’ll be able to control myself if I see that man again.”
Despite his tone remaining polite and bright, the words make a pit form in Lovino's stomach. He’s asking the question before he thinks better of it. “What would you do to him?”
Antonio opens his mouth before he pauses for a moment, like he’s considering what to say as he toes the ground with his boot. “I’d… leave a permanent reminder so he thinks twice about following people after dark,” he says after a moment. He frowns in guilt when Lovino releases a shuddering sigh. “I’m sorry. Does that bother you?”
Lovino pointedly avoids the question, because he really isn't sure what his answer would be. “Where do you want to go?” he asks instead. Antonio holds his gaze on him for a few seconds, unsure whether he wants to press for more, but then he's expelling a heavy breath from his lungs as he replaces his smile.
“I have a spot in mind. Do you mind walking for a bit?”
That’s how Lovino ends up on a sandy shore that’s a good distance away from the port and has a great view of the docks and ocean, knees pulled up to his chest with Antonio by his side. His companion pulls a bottle with a dark amber liquid from his side before offering it out, grin inviting him to take a sip, and Lovino rolls his eyes before grabbing it and pulling out the cork to take a swig.
It’s strong, sweet, and spicy. Even though Lovino tries his hardest to not make a face, he still coughs as he hands the bottle back without replacing the cork. He flips Antonio off when he laughs, but otherwise they both fall quiet as they settle into comfortable silence.
Lovino isn’t sure what to say. There’s a lot he wants to, and a lot he doesn’t -- he’s relieved to know that the strange pulling in his chest he had felt while Antonio had been gone isn’t there anymore, but he hates that it’s been replaced with a bundle of nerves that twist anytime their fingers brush together when sharing the bottle of rum. It makes him thankful that Antonio seems to be content with sitting quietly, looking up at the clear night sky with a faint smile as they relax.
“I needed this.”
Lovino looks over when Antonio finally speaks to find the Spaniard with his eyes closed, legs crossed as he sits up straight. He breathes in for a long time, chest expanding as he fills his lungs with the salty breeze blowing across the waves. He looks serene as he rests there, nothing like the person who had threatened the man that had followed Lovino from the tavern. Lovino’s heart skips when Antonio opens his eyes and looks at him with a gentle expression.
“I missed you, Roma.”
As much as he wants to lie, Lovino finds that he can’t -- even if he can’t get the exact words he wants past his lips. He hugs his legs closer, looking at the ground as he feels his cheeks flush. “It’s been… boring here without you.”
Antonio chuckles softly. “I’m so relieved to see you here. I… was afraid that you weren’t going to show.” He hums. “I was afraid you were going to forget about me.”
Lovino buries his face against his knees. “As if I ever could,” he mumbles, feeling as if he’s been set aflame when he hears Antonio’s breath catch. He has to return to reality before he’s too far gone. “How long are you staying this time?”
Antonio stiffens before he sighs quietly, and Lovino can hear him shift so he’s facing the sea again. “A week. Maybe two, but I’m not entirely sure yet. I might be cutting it close if I stay any longer than that.”
The incident with the stranger flashes in Lovino's mind, and with it comes a thought that he wishes he was able to continue ignoring. He's not an idiot, he understands the possibility of Antonio's profession being less than honest is higher than not -- he’s just been trying to pretend that he isn’t developing feelings for a fucking pirate. He swallows. “What does that mean?” he still asks, voice barely above a breath.
Antonio grows very quiet for a long time. Finally, he responds by asking a question.
“Your name isn’t really Romano, is it?”
Lovino forgets how to breathe, heart swelling into his throat and cutting off his air as he struggles to find an answer. Antonio waits patiently, eyes focused on the ground in front of him while he rests his hands in his lap. Finally Lovino decides that -- for once -- lying is the incorrect way to handle this situation. He shakes his head. “No.”
With a hum, Antonio asks his next question. “Am I allowed to ask you for your real name?”
Fuck it -- what does he have to lose? “Lovino. Lovino Vargas.”
Antonio’s shoulders stiffen, green eyes quick as they dart over to him. “Vargas? As in Augustus Vargas? The former Captain of the Gulf in Venezia?”
Lovino groans, returning his face into his knees as he’s swallowed in immense shame. “Ugh, don’t remind me. I already get enough of that shit at home, alright?”
Antonio doesn’t relax, seemingly more stressed than he was before. “No, Ro-- Lovino, I don’t think you understand. It would be very, very bad if you’re seen with me.” He laughs breathlessly, but it’s not of good humor. “Catastrophic, actually.”
“And why is that?” Lovino snaps, whipping his face around to focus Antonio with a glare. He’s doing everything to keep his tears at bay. “What’s your name then?”
Antonio’s voice grows quiet. “Antonio. That’s the truth.”
“Your full name, jackass.”
There’s a moment of silence where Antonio looks at him strangely, brow pinched in conflict as he tries to decide whether he wants to answer, and then he looks down at the ground. “Antonio. Antonio Fernández Carriedo.”
Captain of La Alma del Sol -- not only a pirate, but an infamous one.
Lovino wants to vomit. “Fuck.”
“I…” Antonio trails off, fists clenching in his lap. He’s smiling but it looks empty, like he’s only doing so because he isn’t sure what else to do. “I’m sorry. I should have said something. Or…” he pauses, sighing as he retrieves the bottle of rum. “Maybe not. Maybe I shouldn’t have kept meeting with you at all.”
“Why did you?” Lovino asks hoarsely. Antonio looks at him strangely and Lovino waves his hands around helplessly, trying to find his words. “I mean -- people don’t usually give a shit about me. I’m the lesser of Augustus’ grandsons, the one who people like avoiding. You didn’t know who I was, and you stuck around to talk to me anyway. Why?”
Antonio glances at him for a moment, bottle at his lips, and then he hums. “I’m a pirate, Lovino. If there's something I want, I pursue it.” He takes a long swig, coughing after he's swallowed, and places the bottle between them before folding his hands together in his lap. “I would be lying if I said I didn’t initially approach you because I was hoping for your company in more of the… physical way.” He flashes a grin when Lovino’s cheeks flush scarlet. “I have told you already, bonito. I think you’re very handsome.”
Choosing to ignore the nickname, Lovino swallows down the flicker he feels in his chest. “But you stayed anyway -- even though I told you to fuck off.”
With a laugh, Antonio nods. “I’ve always been told I’m drawn to the passion in people, and… well, you're full of it, Roma. Too passionate for this degrading port town. Too full of feelings to be stuck being your brother’s caretaker.” He frowns, eyes turning downcast. “Too… good for me to get involved with you.” He scoffs quietly, dropping his face into his hands. “God, what am I doing? I’m risking so much by being here, for both me and you -- but I just can't seem to stay away. Maybe… it would be better if I just left.”
Lovino’s heart lurches in panic, terrified by the idea that once Antonio leaves tonight, he could never see him again. He shakes his head a little desperately. “Please don’t leave,” he croaks, and Antonio lifts his head to return his gaze with something unrecognizable. Lovino swallows thickly. “You’re the one good thing I have in my life that I found entirely my own. I don’t want to lose that.”
“You do understand how dangerous it is to be around me, right?” Antonio asks softly. “You could be hanged simply by associating with me. I would never forgive myself if that happened.”
Maybe it's the rum he’s drunk, breaking down his usual defenses, but he finds every word that could be considered a risk coming from his mouth more easily the longer he looks at Antonio's handsome face. “I don't care that you're a pirate, Antonio. I… I don’t want to lose you. I can’t lose you.”
His honesty makes Antonio’s eyes widen and a flush rise to his cheeks before he blinks, like he's realizing something, and looks away quickly. He says nothing, thinking to himself for a long moment -- and then with slow, deliberate movement, he extends his hand out in offering, and waits.
Antonio is giving him a choice, the way he always has. Lovino could walk away now and save himself the pain of falling for this pirate, or he could stay to see how far he'd be willing to go for him. He'd be betraying everyone in his life if he followed after Antonio: his grandfather fought pirates in his youth, his brother was afraid of them. Lovino himself has been trained from a young age in the best ways to protect himself and his family against them, and this pirate captain managed to break past every single one of those defenses with nothing more than a kind smile and honest words.
But… Antonio is more than just a pirate. He’s a man who listens to Lovino’s long winded complaints and doesn’t interrupt or dismiss his struggles. He made a promise to come back to see Lovino and did, against all sense and reason, despite the dangers of repeatedly returning to the place where the Spanish Crown’s bankers made their home. Fuck, he looks at Lovino with the most adoring, green eyes that Lovino has ever seen, and they're for him and him alone.
Trying to steady his nerves, Lovino raises his trembling hand up and out before resting it in Antonio’s waiting palm. The touch is like lightning, shooting across his skin and down into his bones -- he sucks in a gasp when Antonio wraps his warm fingers around his hand to grip it, giving it a gentle squeeze.
“You have such soft hands for someone trained with a sword,” Antonio murmurs absentmindedly, thumb brushing the back of Lovino’s hand. His brow pinches when he notices Lovino's shaking, looking up at him with concern in his face. “Are you afraid?”
Lovino grips his hand more tightly in an attempt to make his shaking stop. “I feel like it’d be stupid for me not to be afraid of this,” he retorts, and Antonio smiles at him. He swallows. “You're here for a week this time, right?” Antonio nods, and Lovino bites his lip. “When… will you be back?”
Antonio smiles ruefully. “I can’t say for sure. My crew and I… we’re looking for someone. We were supposed to have found him last month, but we got bad information.” He lowers their hands to rest on the ground as he looks away, but he doesn't let go. “This is incredibly important to Ned and Belle, and I promised them I wouldn't stop looking until we found that boy. I can’t let them down -- I just had to come back here to see you before we set off again.”
Lovino blinks. “You came back just to see me?”
Green eyes flicker over to him, the same warm and gentle smile playing at Antonio’s mouth before he lifts Lovino’s hand up to his lips, closing his eyes as he presses a gentle kiss to the back of his hand. Lovino breathes in sharply, searing heat in his face and neck and chest as Antonio holds the kiss to his hand for a long moment, mouth soft against Lovino’s skin. When he finally pulls away, his eyes flutter open to fix Lovino with an expression that punches the last of the air from Lovino’s lungs.
“Of course I did, Roma. I had a promise to keep.” Then he pauses, rubbing the back of his neck as he laughs and pulls back. “Er, I suppose I should start calling you Lovino? Lo siento, it's going to take me a bit to get used to that.”
“You can call me whatever you’d like,” Lovino breathes before he can stop himself, barely able to get his voice above a whisper. He swallows when Antonio just stares at him, eyes wide and unblinking, and figures it’s too late to take it back. “I mean… if that makes things easier for you.”
“Hm…” Antonio trails off, eyes clouded in thought, before he cracks a small, teasing smile. “What about Lovi?”
Fuck, is he as irritating as he is lovely. Lovino finally breaks out of his reverie and snorts as he pulls his hand away, ignoring Antonio's whining as he snatches the bottle of rum from between them. “Absolutely not.”
Antonio scoots closer, amusement glittering in his eyes as he puts on a fake pout. “Lovito?” he tries next, and Lovino nearly chokes on the swig of rum he takes, breaking into a coughing fit as he thrusts the bottle back into Antonio’s chest.
“F-Fuck no!” he finally spits out. “Nothing with my real name!”
Antonio laughs, placing the cork back in the bottle with a nod. “Bonito it is, then.”
Lovino groans, putting his head in his hands even though he feels as light as air. “You're such a bastard.”
A wonderful, ridiculously charming bastard.
.
..
…
....
“ -- por favor, no puedes dejarme --”
The words are getting louder and it’s what rouses him again, Lovino able to make them out more clearly now. Unfortunately, his clearer hearing brings sharper pain, the ache in his chest spreading to the rest of his limbs and leaving him feeling like he’s made of fire. Not only is he in agony, but he’s growing frustrated: he’s having such a hard time trying to recall the face that belongs to this voice, the features of this figure lost in a fog of pain -- every time he tries to reach out and grasp them, they swirl away from his touch and disappear before he can hold anything tangible like smoke.
The pressure in his ribs is coming in waves now, and with each wave he feels it welling away from his lungs and building in his neck and throat. He wants to cry from the discomfort of it all, wanting it all to stop so he can just sleep. He’s exhausted -- if he knew Purgatory would be so tiring, he thinks he would have tried being a better person.
God, that voice keeps pulling him back from the brink, right when he’s about to drift off. Can’t they just leave him be? He’s tired, he’s in pain, and he just wants it all to stop.
Surely that voice can wait for him after he sleeps a bit first, right?
....
…
..
.
Lovino only gives his time to Antonio when he’s at the tavern, and the blond man who’s standing above him is most certainly not his Spaniard.
The previous nine months have been both a wonderful and terrible period of time that Lovino has spent either elated in Antonio’s company, or yearning for his return -- and the stretches that Lovino is trapped alone in Genoa are growing longer every time his Spanish pirate leaves. This time, it’s been nearly two and a half months since Antonio had last sailed off from the Italian peninsula, and Lovino’s been feeling that longing ache every day that goes by without a word of his return.
Twice a week, he’d sneak out after his family had gone to bed and make his way back down to the port and wait, taking his spot at the end of the bar in the same rowdy tavern as he desires to see a flash of green eyes or dark curls -- and twice a week, he ends the night disappointed and lonely as he pays for his drinks and heads back home before his grandfather can notice he’s gone.
Tonight, he isn’t alone, but it’s not because he’s with the man he’s been waiting for. Instead, Lovino has a new cheery jackass standing over him, studying him with an insufferable smile on his face.
Lovino looks at him through his bangs. “I’m not in the mood,” he warns. “Fuck off.”
The blond smiles. “You must be Romano,” he says, French accent woven thick in his English. Lovino frowns in confusion. Not only does he not know any Frenchmen, the only person who should know him by that name is Antonio, who’s pointedly missing from this scenario and has been for the past two and a half months. The Frenchman raises an eyebrow, giving him a solid look up and down. “Antonio has told me so much about you.”
The mention of the Spaniard has Lovino sitting up a little straighter -- he tries his best to play it off. “Antonio, huh? Where is that stupid bastard? I haven’t seen him for a few months.” He scowls. “And who the fuck are you? How do you know him?”
The blond chuckles, removing his plumed hat to hold over his chest as he dips his head. “François Bonnefoy at your service, mon petit,” he says, before replacing his hat with a smile. “You may call me Francis if you’d like. I’m a friend of Antoine’s -- he got held up and sent me ahead to make sure you didn’t leave without him.”
Lovino’s heart flutters, suddenly alight with nerves as a swirl of questions suddenly rapid-fire into his brain. (Antonio was back in Genoa? Where was he now? How long had he been here? How long would he be staying this time?) He swallows them all down with a drink from his glass, cursing how his hands are shaking in anticipation.
“Good,” he forces out calmly, crossing his leg over his knee. “I didn’t waste my time then.”
Francis chuckles quietly, taking the seat next to him and leaning over the bartop comfortably. “You’re certainly as handsome as he said you were,” he says wryly, and Lovino frowns at him. Francis waves the statement away uncaringly. “Antonio is a chatterbox and loves talking at length about anything and everything -- but you, by far, are his favorite subject.”
“Really?” Lovino asks mildly, pretending not to care as he rolls his drink around absentmindedly -- all the while wishing that he didn’t care as much as he actually does. “What has that bastard been saying about me?”
There’s a moment where Francis chuckles to himself quietly before he speaks. “Only good things, I promise.” He drops his chin into his palm, giving a lazy smile. “I seem to remember him saying something about needing to see what you looked like draped in gold, because he was sure it’d put the Roman gods to shame.” He winks. “Only draped in gold, mind you. He was very drunk, but very specific.”
Lovino only barely keeps his mouth from dropping open, face flushing viciously at the idea -- they haven’t even kissed! Antonio had made it very clear that he wanted Lovino to dictate the pace of their relationship, so things between them have remained slow due to a mix of Lovino’s cowardice and their limited time with one another since they can only meet at night. Antonio had reassured him before that he was simply satisfied with his company, happy to leave kisses to his hands or cheeks, but it still made Lovino a little guilty that he was always feeling so skittish about physical touch.
Hearing that Antonio has had fantasies about him does… something to his insides.
Francis says nothing at his wordlessness, observing him with amusement as Lovino fumbles for his voice -- but then a hand claps down onto Francis’ shoulder before he can say anything else, and then Lovino’s heart is leaping into his throat when he hears Antonio’s voice for the first time in over two months.
“I hope you’re not being cruel to my Roma, Francis.”
Lovino forces himself to look up from his glass as calmly as he can, swallowing down the eruption of joy he feels when he actually sees Antonio standing there behind Francis. He’s a little bruised up but he looks healthy: vibrant green eyes and the same brilliant smile. Lovino finds himself breathless, heart clogging up his throat when Antonio’s eyes pull away from his friend and light up as soon as he sees Lovino’s face. “I hope I’m not too late this time, Roma! And I pray that my friend wasn’t too terrible in my absence.”
“For shame, Antoine,” Francis teases, “leaving ton coeur in my hands and expecting me to behave.”
Antonio doesn’t take his eyes off of Lovino as he elbows Francis in the side with a hard jab, and Francis wheezes and doubles over as the breath is knocked from him. “He truly is a despicable man,” Antonio says with his usual smile as he releases his friend. He gestures over his shoulder. “Want to get out of here? There’s something I need to talk to you about--”
In a flash, an arm sneaks around Antonio’s throat and yanks him backwards with a choked breath before he can finish and Lovino is instantly awash in panic. He’s on his feet immediately, scrambling for his dagger -- but Francis is quickly standing between him and the tussle, hands up in a gesture to placate.
“No, no, it’s alright!” he reassures, coughing a bit. “It’s just Gil!”
Lovino opens his mouth to snap out something nasty before he’s stopped by a bold, hissing laugh that cuts off Antonio’s annoyed grumbling -- he looks over to see the man called Gil ruffling Antonio’s curls before shoving him back towards Francis. Lovino feels a little nervous when he fixes his pale, reddish eyes towards him, the man’s grin sharp. “This the little Neapolitan you’ve been telling us about, Tonio?” he asks, lilt thick and German, and Lovino scowls defiantly when Gil gives him a once-over.
“Oui, this is Romano,” Francis confirms, grabbing Antonio around the waist and ignoring the Spaniard’s complaints as he fights against him. “Romano, this is Gilbert Beilschmidt. He’s Antonio’s other dearest friend.”
Lovino stares at the three of them for a moment, hand still on his blade, but then he fixes his irritated glare at Antonio as he sits back down. “Do you just tell everyone you know about me?” he asks, taking another long sip of his drink. Antonio opens his mouth to defend himself but he’s instantly silenced by Gilbert, who slaps a hand over his mouth and grapples him.
“He never shuts up about you to anyone who’s unfortunate enough to listen,” Gilbert grins, swearing sharply and jerking his hand away from Antonio’s mouth. “Hey, don’t fucking bite me!”
Antonio bares his teeth before tussling harder with his pale-haired companion. “I’m sorry, Roma! They insisted upon meeting you in person and they -- ow -- they wouldn’t take no for an answer! You’ll have to -- fuck -- you’ll have to forgive them!” Antonio explains breathlessly as he wrestles Gilbert to the ground, swearing across multiple languages under his breath. “Neither of them have any manners!”
“How cruel, cher,” Francis mourns sarcastically, resting his chin in his palm while he amusedly watches his two friends wrestle with one another. “Gilbert I can understand, but I have plenty of manners.” He looks over his shoulder at the barkeep and waves apologetically, dropping a small purse of lira on the table as if to make up for the scuffle, but then he turns back to the fight.
Antonio’s back hits the ground hard enough to knock the breath from him and the sound draws Lovino’s attention back to the floor -- he finds Gilbert the victor of their scuffle as he pins Antonio down with an arm over his chest. Antonio presses up against Gilbert’s arm with a sour smile. “This is the thanks I get for bringing Lud to Genoa, huh?” he coughs out, and Gilbert frowns a moment before he groans and rolls his eyes, dragging himself off the Spaniard immediately before holding a hand out to help him up.
“No, that was for biting me,” he retorts, swinging Antonio back up onto his feet before whacking him hard in the arm. “And that was for punching Francis. You know he bruises easily.”
Antonio snorts, rubbing his arm. “You know he deserved it.” He takes a deep breath before he claps his hands and replaces his wide smile, taking a step towards Lovino’s stool before gesturing at his friends to leave. “Okay, you two have met him!” His smile tenses. “Now leave. I only get him for a few days this time, and I’d like to enjoy it while I can.”
Lovino’s heart sinks. “A few days?” he whispers, frowning.
Antonio looks over his shoulder, appearing as disappointed as Lovino feels. “I’ll explain later,” he says in a breath. He returns to his friends, hands on his hips. “You both know what to do while you’re here, and more specifically, what not to do. If you cause me or my crew any trouble, I’ll be very upset with you.”
Francis rises to his feet with an elegant laugh. “Don't worry, we’ll behave ourselves.” He winks at Lovino. “Remember the gold, mon petit. I’m sure Antoine would appreciate it.”
Gilbert breaks into a fit of laughter as Lovino burns red hot, averting his gaze back down to his glass. Antonio releases an annoyed sigh as he rolls his eyes.
“Come on, Romano,” he says, reaching across him to drop a few coins on the table to pay for Lovino's drink as he takes him by the hand. He’s smiling but he seems troubled, leading him out of the bar and away from the busy port with his green eyes clouded over in deep, unhappy thought. Any amount of relief Lovino feels at seeing Antonio alive and well and here is weighed down by the alarm that's slowly closing around his heart -- something is wrong.
It’s only a short time later that they’ve returned to their little spot on the coast, and Antonio is still silent as he gazes over the water and grips his rum bottle in his fingers. He's been so quiet and distant that it's left a bad feeling in the pit of Lovino's stomach.
“Did… something happen?” he asks hesitantly, and Antonio blinks before fixing him with a concerned look.
“No, nothing happened,” he reassures, before he frowns and looks down at his lap. “It’s…” he pauses to sigh, “I’m sorry. I don’t know how to tell you this without upsetting you, Lovino.”
That clawing anxiety that gripped him at the tavern wrenches tightly, making Lovino’s chest ache so horribly he feels like he’ll be sick. “Is it about you only being able to stay for a few days this time?”
“Worse.” Antonio lowers his head, expression twisting. “Lovino, this… this is the last time I’ll be able to come to Genoa. I won’t be returning after I leave.”
Everything stops. The world, the waves, Lovino’s heart -- it all comes crashing to a horrific and painful halt. Lovino’s head is spinning, his mind in overdrive, and it's not long after that he can feel the tears coming on, throat searing with them as he sits there and stares at Antonio.
No.
He says it out loud.
“No.”
Antonio squeezes his eyes shut, mouth curling in a grimace. “I’m sorry, Lovino. I don’t want to, but it’s getting too dangerous. I have a crew that trusts me to look after them, and… I’m being so incredibly selfish by coming back here so frequently.” He groans, dropping his head into his hands. “I’m risking your safety by coming here too. How long would it take for any of them to arrest you on suspicions of aiding a pirate? If my carelessness got you killed, Lovi… it would ruin me.”
“No!” Lovino feels like his chest is caving in, sucking in a shuddering gasp after he says it -- and he feels ridiculous, being this distraught over a person he’s barely known for a year, but he feels like he’s dying. He has to push himself to his feet when he feels Antonio’s touch at his wrist, hearing his concerned voice but not processing what he says as he stumbles away from where he was sitting to get some space. “Fuck, you can’t -- no, no, no --” God he doesn’t even know what he’s saying but he just knows it’s painful to breathe, his body is shaking terribly and it’s difficult to stay standing.
“Lovino, please listen to me--” Antonio’s voice breaks through his ringing ears, closer than he expects, and Lovino can feel his touch at his waist and it immediately sets his nerves alight with panic. He whirls around and shoves him away -- Antonio barely moves backwards but immediately holds his hands up in a gesture of surrender as he stares at Lovino with wide eyes. “Lovino--”
“You can't leave me here!” Lovino shouts, voice breaking, and Antonio winces at his volume. Lovino doesn't care if anyone else hears him -- the world is ending and he’s overflowing with so much agony and rage that he can’t help when it bursts out of him like cannonfire. “You can't! I don't have anything here without you!”
Antonio frowns. “That’s not true,” he says. “You have your family--”
“A family who doesn't give a shit about me or my feelings!” Lovino retorts. “I don't want to stay here and be my little brother's retainer for the rest of my life! You are the one person who sees me for more than my name and--” he has to suck in a ragged breath and it makes him lightheaded, “and you're just throwing me away. Y-You’re leaving me behind like nothing ever happened. Like I don’t matter.”
“That’s not what I’m doing, Lovino!” Antonio sounds frustrated. “I don’t want to leave! I already told you that it’s dangerous being around me. They will hang you and string up your body from the port as a reminder of what they do to pirates, and I can’t protect you from that if I stay!”
“I don’t care if I die!” Lovino blurts, and Antonio’s flinches, face becoming very pale.
“Please don’t say that,” he whispers, but Lovino shakes his head.
“It’s the truth!” God, he feels like a fucking child. He can’t stop crying, cheeks soaked as he yells. “If you leave, I’ll die anyway! You said it yourself: there’s nothing for me here in Genoa -- you’re the one good thing I have that is mine and mine alone, and if you’re gone and I never see you again…” he trails off with a sob, knees finally giving out on him as he sinks down into the sand and he drops his head into his hands. “God, fuck you, Antonio. You can’t do this to me.”
Antonio doesn’t move as Lovino dissolves into painful, terrible sobbing. It’s dreadfully silent, broken apart only by the sound of Lovino’s tears and the waves lapping the shore, and it stays that way for too long as Lovino continues to cry, overwhelmed in both shame and misery.
“Lovito,” Antonio finally croaks, taking a clumsy step forward before he lowers himself to his knees to sit across from him. “Please don’t cry. I’m sorry.”
Lovino’s stomach lurches as a horrible thought comes to his head, unable to stop himself as the words tumble past his lips. “Do… do you just not want me anymore? Are you only doing this to me so you can move on without me and I won’t want to follow you?”
Antonio’s eyes flash before he’s gripping Lovino by the shoulders almost painfully. “Don’t you dare accuse me of that, Lovino,” he snaps, and Lovino’s mind is silenced by the anger he sees in that green gaze. “You don’t understand how difficult this decision is for me. I don’t want to leave and I don’t want to lose you, but if I keep taking the risks I’ve been taking just so I can see you, it’ll only lead us both to the gallows. I just want to keep you safe -- I can’t do that if I keep putting you in danger here.” He shuts his eyes and takes a deep breath to calm himself, and then he fixes Lovino with a pained expression as he touches his cheek. “I love you, Lovino. That's why I have to leave.”
The words are new to him and Lovino stills, staring at Antonio with wide eyes. He loves him. Antonio loves him, and he’s going away. He’s leaving Lovino here alone and he’ll never come back -- but he loves him. Lovino feels like he’s trapped in a hurricane, the wild winds of his emotions tearing through his body and ripping him to pieces. He’s shaking terribly, an overpour of all his feelings unable to be contained beneath his skin as it leaves him a ragged, quaking mess.
He needs an anchor.
Lovino raises his shaking hands to press on either side of Antonio’s face, relishing the warmth they hold as it steadies him. Antonio stills immediately, peridot eyes staring a moment before they slide close as he leans into the touch with a soft sigh -- and the gesture is so reverent, so trusting that Lovino is suddenly struck with the realization that he’ll never love another person like this again.
He raises Antonio’s face and leans in to kiss him before he loses the chance forever: a first meeting of their lips that’s as fragile as Lovino feels his body is. Antonio goes completely still under his lips for only a moment, like he can’t process what’s happening, but then it’s like he wakes up. With a gasp he's lurching forward to kiss back with double the intensity, gripping Lovino’s waist to pull him closer as he smashes their mouths together with a ferocity that steals Lovino's breath away. Lovino is nearly swept away in its intensity, a deluge of complete and utter affection crashing over him, clutching onto the man beneath him desperately like Antonio is the only thing keeping him from being lost to the waves.
They only break apart when they can no longer go without air, gasping for breath when they finally force their mouths away from each other. They leave no space between their heaving chests, gripping onto one another tightly as Antonio presses their foreheads together.
Lovino has never been so sure of his words before in his life when he says, “Take me with you.”
Antonio’s eyes open at once, eyebrows raising in surprise before they plunge in disagreement. “I can’t do that. I can’t just take you from your home, Lovi.”
“This isn't my home anymore,” Lovino argues softly, unable to raise his voice louder than a whisper. “It's never felt like my home unless you’ve been here with me. Please, Antonio -- let me go with you when you leave.”
“And your brother?” Antonio reminds. “Your grandfather?”
Lovino shakes his head. “If sixteen was old enough for me to carry my brother’s life in my hands, then it’s old enough for Feliciano to take care of himself.” When the Spaniard opens his mouth to deny him again, Lovino interrupts him with a gentle headbutt. “Hey, are you the dreaded pirate Capitán Fernandez, or aren’t you? You know what you want -- why don’t you just take it?”
“You are so much more than just a simple prize for me to claim, Lovino,” Antonio says with a displeased frown before he sighs, shutting his eyes as he leans into Lovino’s touch and thinks silently for a long time. When he opens his eyes, those brilliant green eyes are deeply serious. “This life isn’t… comfortable, Lovi. It’s difficult -- painful even. The sea may bring you freedom, but it’s something you have to fight for in order to keep.”
“Would you change anything if you were given a second chance?” Lovino asks, and Antonio blinks, lips parting to answer before they twist into a rueful smile.
“No, I wouldn’t.”
Lovino nods, curling his fingers through Antonio’s dark locks. “If this life is good enough for you, it’s good enough for me. I want to go with you.”
There’s another moment where Antonio looks like he wants to argue, but then he sighs and reaches up to cradle Lovino’s face in his hands. “You understand that it’d be dangerous out there, right?” he asks, waiting for Lovino to nod before he sighs. He takes a long moment to look at him, tucking some hair behind Lovino’s ear before he pulls back to take Lovino by the hands. “I swear to you, Lovino. If you follow me out there to the sea, if you follow my orders and work your hardest to be a true member to my crew, I promise that I won’t let anything happen to you. I will keep you safe until my dying breath.”
Heart trembling, Lovino clenches his jaw. “You can’t promise me that.”
Antonio raises his chin, smiling proudly. “I can, and I will.” He leans forward and kisses him again.
“I promise, Lovino -- you’ll be safe with me.”
.
..
…
....
There’s one final punch of pressure to his chest and it’s like it forces Lovino’s soul back into his body. Suddenly his back is to the deck of La Alma and he can move but he can’t breathe, choking on the taste of salt and seafoam as he panics. He allows his instinct to take over for him, contorting off to the side as he starts retching up what feels like an impossible amount of water -- and holy fuck, how much water can fit into a person and why does it burn so fucking bad when it comes up?
He’s coughing so hard he feels lightheaded, struggling to hold himself up on his weak, shaking limbs, and he hasn’t found his air when he’s engulfed in a desperate, crushing embrace. Lovino groans, fighting against the trembling hold he’s in as he tries to blink the blurriness from his eyes -- and he can’t remember what happened, but he feels like he was trampled by a horse.
When he can finally see clearly, the first person he sees is João. He’s staring at him with wide green eyes and an extremely pale face, looking far more horrified than he has any right to look as he mumbles something in Portuguese and crosses himself -- but the first person Lovino hears is Antonio, sobbing into the skin at the nape of his neck as he apologizes over and over again. Alarm bells instantly ring in his head and Lovino automatically makes an attempt to comfort him, trying to remember the sequence of events that have led to him throwing up an entire ocean onto the deck and Antonio desperately clutching his body like he had been dead.
Then Lovino hears his brother’s voice -- “Is he the reason why you don’t want to come home?” -- and he thinks that maybe he was sent to Hell after all.