Here!

(Source: the-pub-street)

spanish-tomate:

itaromano:

spanish-tomate:

itaromano:

Romano sighed softly, relaxing and curling up against him. It was probably one of the more comfortable nights of sleep he had in a long time. The only other one that was this comforting was his first night home with his brother, curled up with him in bed and feeling like he was back home.

***************************

It was already getting to be late in the morning by the time Romano woke up. He smiled a little, looking up at Antonio and giving him a small kiss on the forehead. Careful not to wake him, he detangled himself from Antonio’s arms, climbing out of bed slowly. He stifled a small yawn and stretched as he walked into the bathroom to get ready for the rest of the day. He wasn’t sure what he would do now. He would probably spend the day looking around the house and trying to remember everything. He knew that there was a lot of stuff Antonio didn’t want him to remember, but that just made him even more determined to remember it.

Antonio panicked first, he stirred and woke up trying to find the comfortable warmth he remembered sleeping with gone. He abruptly sits up and glances around quickly. Finding no Italian in sight he sighs and ruffles his hair, thinking that maybe it was just a dream, a cruel dream. Feeling a bit disappointed he climb off to bed to look for Romano but then he noticed that he’s not at his room and heard someone at the bathroom. It was then when the Spaniard felt relieve and maybe, just maybe it wasn’t a dream and that it really did happen.

Slowly, he walked closer to the bathroom with his heart racing, early in the morning, with every step he takes. “Roma?” he called out slowly. He forgot that he was supposed to call the other Italia but if what happens is not a dream then maybe he can call him like how he used to call the other, his special nickname. He stopped a meter away from the door and tries to peek inside the bathroom “Roma?” he called out, louder than before. 

“Oh, hey, sorry, did I wake you up?” Romano called from the bathroom, opening up the door with a toothbrush sticking out of his mouth. He finished brushing his teeth and walked out of the bathroom, “Sorry, bathroom’s all yours now. I tried to be quiet when I got up.” Romano mumbled, rubbing his eyes and yawning a little.

“Fuck, I’m hungry, feed me when you’re done, bastard.” He whined, sitting back down on the edge of the bed and shuffling through his suitcase to find something to wear. He started tugging off his pajamas, yawning again and getting changed.

“Ah…no…” Antonio mumbled as he enters the bathroom, paused to look at his self at the mirror and then turns to leave, passing by the Italian on the bed of the edge. He forgot that it wasn’t his room anymore and had to cross over to his new room with a slight blush on his face from embarrassment and fixed himself at his own bathroom. He chuckled and shakes his head in disbelief that his supposed to be stone cold attitude is crumbling down on front of the Italian just because of what happen last night. He thought he could mask his face again, but how does that Romano can just see through him so easily.

He climbed down the stairs and entered his kitchen after fixing and dressing up to make breakfast, smiling to himself. For some reason he feels light and relax, most especially he feels like this day will turn out good for the two of them. He would help Romano remember what he needed to know, just the things that are essentials in his life, nothing more and nothing less. Antonio can sense Romano’s determination to know absolutely everything but he’s more determine to hide the thing that the other doesn’t have to learn.

Romano sighed and stretched, rubbing his eyes again and walking downstairs. “Smells good.” He mumbled, looking over at Antonio and sitting down at the table. He frowned and reached into his pocket, pulling out his cellphone and scribbling down his number on a scrap piece of paper. He stuck it onto the fridge, “In case you need to get a hold of me. My house doesn’t have a phone yet, I’m working on it.” He added.

“What do you want to do today? Can I walk around the house? You probably have an attic or storage room or something, right? I’ll look through there to see if I can jog some more memories of mine. They’re coming back pretty easily, but there’s still so much missing. Ah… there used to be a woman that came here, right? And a bunch of kids?” He asked, unsure.

spanish-tomate:

itaromano:

“I remember the first time I met you, you know.” Romano mumbled, smirking a little. “I don’t know how little I was, probably barely old enough to walk. Mother was talking to Abuela about something and I wandered off. I got lost and fell and scraped my knee. I just sat there, crying and screaming for my mom. I guess you were nearby doing something, maybe playing with the kids your age. But you grabbed my hand and walked me home.” Romano smirked, “You’ve always been such a good kid, haven’t you?” He laughed. 

“I’m sorry, I always talk about my parents. Tch, sometimes I forget that we’re both in the same boat-” He stopped, wincing when he heard the doorbell ringing. His hands clenched and he frowned, glaring at the ground and not wanting to move. His first instinct was to just leave. He hated it when his grandfather was angry. He was the sort of man to get extremely angry, although it faded quickly, he was still scary when he was angry at someone.

“…Shit.” Romano sighed, standing up and wincing when the doorbell rang again. He walked out of the room, towards the door. A maid opened it before he got there and he could already hear his grandfather’s voice.

“Where is he? Lovino is here, isn’t he?” His grandfather asked, Romano could hear he panic in his voice.

“I’m right here…” Romano mumbled, walking over and looking up at his grandfather.

“L-Lovi…” The look of pure relief on his grandfather’s face was short-lived. A large hand smacked him across his cheek, making his head turn and his eyes water. Large arms pulled Romano close, hugging him tightly, “Don’t EVER do that again! Dios mio, I’ve been looking everywhere for you! I thought you were in a ditch somewhere! Or maybe hit by a car! There was a storm last night and- oh God, Lovino, don’t ever do that again…” 

Romano just nodded, letting his grandfather hug him tightly, murmuring in Italian and sighing.

“No more of this, Lovino. I can’t go through this again with another child. We’re going back to Italy. You’ll like it there. The house is big, there is a lot of space, the neighbors are friendly…”

Romano shook his head, his hands clenching and his eyes averted.

“None of that, Lovino. You’re under my care. This school year is almost over, once Summer comes, we’ll move back to our old home in Italy.”

“I won’t do it.” Romano mumbled quietly. “If you take me back there, I’ll refuse to take my medication. I won’t eat.” He threatened softly.

His grandfather sighed, shaking his head, “No, none of that. I won’t have any of that, Lovino. Come on, get your things, we’re going home to discuss this.”

Antonio chuckled and ruffling Romano’s head at the other’s comment about him being a good kid. “I always try to be one…I don’t want…Bothering other people is the last thing I want to do. As much as possible and If possible I always obey and follow orders, be a good example for younger generation like you and everything else required to be a beauty pageant candidate” he said with humor as he waved his hand like how the ladies at pageants waves. But the Spaniard stopped as he heard the door bell ring and wonders who could possibly visit them early in the weekend morning.

The maid did beat him at opening the door, he didn’t imaging the old man would come and fetch Romano home. He didn’t think it was possible until he remembered that they used to live at the neighborhood and, of course, the old man would come here. He sighs as he watches the Italian drama unfolds right before his eyes, relieved and scared at the same time.

The Spaniard is happy that the old man seemed not that angry at Romano for talking back, threatening and then running away. But he’s scared that it might have panicked the older Italian and that he would have to think of something drastic to stop this from happening again. Antonio panicked for a moment when the old man had slap Romano then it subside as the older Italian hugged his precious grandson tight. And now the climax of the drama discloses and as expected the old man would decided on something like this, like he always do he wanted to escape.

“I don’t want to be nosy but, Sir, Isn’t that a bit too harsh? Romano clearly doesn’t want to go back to Italy.” He said in a very calm manner, looking at Romano then his grandfather alternately and gave Romano a last knowing smile before turning to the old man again. “It seems like he’s…searching for answers…for a long time. can’t you let him find out the truth? Maybe after that Romano will agree to go back to Italy, si?”

“You’re not involved in this.” The grandfather said firmly, frowning at Antonio.

“Yes he is.” Romano snapped, glaring up at the older man. “He’s involved enough to have a say. He’s my friend… my best friend… He’s the only one willing to tell me anything.”

The larger man sighed heavily, rubbing his hand through his curly hair with only the faintest streaks of grey showing. “Lovino, you don’t understand. There is a lot that happened and you were too young to understand it. Just let it be, okay? It’s not good for your heart…” He murmured, frowning. “I’ll tell you when you’re older…”

“Fuck you. I’m old enough now.” Romano muttered, glaring at the ground. “I deserve to know what my parents looked like, damn it! I fucking deserve that! Stop hiding everything about them from me and Feliciano!”

“Lovino, you’re still a child. You are under my care and we will be moving back to Italy. I thought I could handle you two coming back. I thought you could handle it, but it’s better if we go back home. Just accept that.”

Romano shook his head, folding his arms.

“Come on, let’s get your things. Where did Lovino leave his bag?” His grandfather asked, looking to Antonio.

Romano’s cheeks turned bright red and he stammered for a few seconds before blurting out that his things were in Antonio’s room.

His grandfather gave him a long, thoughtful, look.

“We didn’t want to bother Francis so Antonio slept on the floor and I took the bed.” Romano lied quickly, still avoiding eye contact and walking back towards Antonio’s room, gathering up his clothes and shoving them back into his bag.

His grandfather sighed, walking in and staring at the sketchbook on the floor. “Lovino, is this yours?” He asked, picking it up and opening it a little.

“No.” Romano said quickly, grabbing it from his hands and shoving it onto Antonio’s arms. “It’s Antonio’s. I have all my stuff. Let’s just go. We’re going back to Italy over my dead body, Nonno. I swear to God that if you take me back I’ll stop eating, I won’t do any chores or work, I’ll stop taking my medication and I’ll STILL fucking talk to Antonio. Take your pick, old man.” He snapped, shoving past his grandfather and leaving the room.

spanish-tomate:

itaromano:

Romano sighed softly, relaxing and curling up against him. It was probably one of the more comfortable nights of sleep he had in a long time. The only other one that was this comforting was his first night home with his brother, curled up with him in bed and feeling like he was back home.

***************************

It was already getting to be late in the morning by the time Romano woke up. He smiled a little, looking up at Antonio and giving him a small kiss on the forehead. Careful not to wake him, he detangled himself from Antonio’s arms, climbing out of bed slowly. He stifled a small yawn and stretched as he walked into the bathroom to get ready for the rest of the day. He wasn’t sure what he would do now. He would probably spend the day looking around the house and trying to remember everything. He knew that there was a lot of stuff Antonio didn’t want him to remember, but that just made him even more determined to remember it.

Antonio panicked first, he stirred and woke up trying to find the comfortable warmth he remembered sleeping with gone. He abruptly sits up and glances around quickly. Finding no Italian in sight he sighs and ruffles his hair, thinking that maybe it was just a dream, a cruel dream. Feeling a bit disappointed he climb off to bed to look for Romano but then he noticed that he’s not at his room and heard someone at the bathroom. It was then when the Spaniard felt relieve and maybe, just maybe it wasn’t a dream and that it really did happen.

Slowly, he walked closer to the bathroom with his heart racing, early in the morning, with every step he takes. “Roma?” he called out slowly. He forgot that he was supposed to call the other Italia but if what happens is not a dream then maybe he can call him like how he used to call the other, his special nickname. He stopped a meter away from the door and tries to peek inside the bathroom “Roma?” he called out, louder than before. 

“Oh, hey, sorry, did I wake you up?” Romano called from the bathroom, opening up the door with a toothbrush sticking out of his mouth. He finished brushing his teeth and walked out of the bathroom, “Sorry, bathroom’s all yours now. I tried to be quiet when I got up.” Romano mumbled, rubbing his eyes and yawning a little.

“Fuck, I’m hungry, feed me when you’re done, bastard.” He whined, sitting back down on the edge of the bed and shuffling through his suitcase to find something to wear. He started tugging off his pajamas, yawning again and getting changed.

spanish-tomate:

itaromano:

Romano shifted a little so Antonio couldn’t see what he was drawing. He started sketching, listening to Antonio and frowning a little. “I’ve never been able to picture them right…. But I always imagined that I was like Mother, and Feliciano is like Nonno. I don’t… remember him at all. The only thing I remember are his large hands. He was very strong, and quiet, I think. Feliciano isn’t good at keeping secrets, but he was still too little to remember them very well. He remembers Mother making great pasta and yelling at the kids that picked on him. He says that I look a bit like her.” He said softly, sighing and resting his head in his palm, staring at his sketchy outline of a face with only faint features.

“Nonno is Mother’s father. She met Father when she was young, maybe when she was 16 or so. He was from Chile and moved to America when he was young. He was traveling abroad in Italy when they met, when he returned to America, he had her with him. They got married and had me, even though they were poor. Then they had Feliciano.” Romano sighed, frowning, “That’s all Nonno ever taught me and that’s all I was able to gather from looking through old files and pictures. I don’t know anything about their personalities, what they did, or anything about them other than what is completely basic…”

“No one seems to remember much of my father….” He sighed, frowning and sketching a few more features. “I don’t think Nonno liked him very much. Then again, our Mother was his daughter, it’s only natural to have a preference.” He kept drawing, stopping again and sighing, tilting his head back and staring up at the ceiling. He looked over at Antonio and then looked away again, shutting his eyes and struggling to remember her face. He could remember the feeling of soft hands, thin fingers that loved playing violin and piano. Long curly brown hair and the thick smell of tomatoes. He stared back down at his sketch, trying to fit together pieces of information to draw her. 

“It’s because your father is not always with you, That’s why I’m always over at your house or you’re always with me and abuela at our house” Antonio said as he gave up on looking at the sketchbook since the Italian clearly doesn’t want him to see it. He rolled over and stared at the television, not caring about what it’s showing at the moment. “I don’t even remember his face anymore, I used to talk to him…well he used to talk to me since he always asks us to watch over you. I only remembered his small smile” he sighs and started skipping through the TV again, pressing the remote randomly as he tries to remember the Italian’s father. But all Antonio can remember is the other’s mother, she’s always been the one who’ll really play with them and be with them all the time. “You’re mom is a head turner so no wonder everyone remembers her than your quiet father”

“I remember the first time I met you, you know.” Romano mumbled, smirking a little. “I don’t know how little I was, probably barely old enough to walk. Mother was talking to Abuela about something and I wandered off. I got lost and fell and scraped my knee. I just sat there, crying and screaming for my mom. I guess you were nearby doing something, maybe playing with the kids your age. But you grabbed my hand and walked me home.” Romano smirked, “You’ve always been such a good kid, haven’t you?” He laughed. 

“I’m sorry, I always talk about my parents. Tch, sometimes I forget that we’re both in the same boat-” He stopped, wincing when he heard the doorbell ringing. His hands clenched and he frowned, glaring at the ground and not wanting to move. His first instinct was to just leave. He hated it when his grandfather was angry. He was the sort of man to get extremely angry, although it faded quickly, he was still scary when he was angry at someone.

“…Shit.” Romano sighed, standing up and wincing when the doorbell rang again. He walked out of the room, towards the door. A maid opened it before he got there and he could already hear his grandfather’s voice.

“Where is he? Lovino is here, isn’t he?” His grandfather asked, Romano could hear he panic in his voice.

“I’m right here…” Romano mumbled, walking over and looking up at his grandfather.

“L-Lovi…” The look of pure relief on his grandfather’s face was short-lived. A large hand smacked him across his cheek, making his head turn and his eyes water. Large arms pulled Romano close, hugging him tightly, “Don’t EVER do that again! Dios mio, I’ve been looking everywhere for you! I thought you were in a ditch somewhere! Or maybe hit by a car! There was a storm last night and- oh God, Lovino, don’t ever do that again…” 

Romano just nodded, letting his grandfather hug him tightly, murmuring in Italian and sighing.

“No more of this, Lovino. I can’t go through this again with another child. We’re going back to Italy. You’ll like it there. The house is big, there is a lot of space, the neighbors are friendly…”

Romano shook his head, his hands clenching and his eyes averted.

“None of that, Lovino. You’re under my care. This school year is almost over, once Summer comes, we’ll move back to our old home in Italy.”

“I won’t do it.” Romano mumbled quietly. “If you take me back there, I’ll refuse to take my medication. I won’t eat.” He threatened softly.

His grandfather sighed, shaking his head, “No, none of that. I won’t have any of that, Lovino. Come on, get your things, we’re going home to discuss this.”