WARNING: This chapter is a bit (that might be an understatement) smutty at the end.

Four Seasons and a Year: Epilogue

"You're late, bastard!" Lovino snapped impatiently in front of the wishing fountain located in the centre of the shopping strip. The Italian was noticeably dressed in his very best attire, a casual grey waistcoat with a white button shirt and a dark silk tie, a pair of trousers the colour of traditional red wine, a sort of burgundy shade, and a brand new pair of boots. Much to Arthur's surprise, it was a pair of Doc Martens with a white body and black laces matching the cherry red pair that the Briton was currently wearing with his loose, white Led Zeppelin t-shirt underneath an unbuttoned maroon cardigan pierced with silver pyramid studs and conical spikes at the shoulders and a pair of black jeans. The chains hanging off his leather belt clinked and jingled as the blond jogged to catch up with his lover.

"Only by ten minutes! That's still perfectly acceptable!" Arthur protested before giving the younger boy an apologetic smile. "Were you waiting long?"

"Yes, I was, you fucking bastard!" Lovino barked. "What the hell took you so long?"

"The bus was stuck in traffic," the Briton explained sheepishly.

"Why didn't you just take your damn motorcycle?"

"Because we wouldn't be able to talk properly over the sound of the engine and through the helmet," was Arthur's blatant reply. Lovino flushed at his lover's frank honesty but said nothing in response. He kept his eyes trained on the pavement, hoping that the Briton wouldn't notice his red cheeks. "I wanted to walk with you and talk with you. We haven't done so in a long time." As soon as those tender, gentle words slipped past Arthur's lips naturally and suavely, the back of their hands brushed against each other as they began strolling down the pavement. Arthur smiled wistfully at the brief contact. It's been nearly a month since the two of them had last seen each other, and Arthur yearned for nothing more than simply holding his little Italian spitfire close, burying himself in that earthen warmth. Since they both attended different schools and lived on different sides of town, it was difficult to adjust their schedules - Arthur especially. The Briton always had some kind of assignment or project for college aside from his job at Cameron's pub, open mic promises and legitimately paid gigs and recording sessions with Victoria and Lisa, studying for surprise quizzes and examinations from his professors after information leaked about the classrooms and lecture halls, and mandatory performances and recitals as an accompanist and orchestral member. Throw in a couple of all-nighters and study-groups-turned-drinking-sessions (especially with Mathias and Gilbert), then you have Arthur Kirkland's life as a college student.

Breaking his lover away from his thoughts, Lovino asked of the blond strolling beside him, "Anyway, do you want to grab a bite to eat?"

"Are you cooking?" Arthur returned with a sort of dismal hope. They were quite a ways from both the Vargas household and the Elizabethan Tower. Although Lovino's home was so much closer, the Englishman knew that his lover wouldn't want to return home so quickly just to feed him. His grandfather and brother are at home, Lovino would reason. Still, Arthur wished and yearned for it. He hadn't had one of Lovino's meals in such a long time that he was almost dying with hunger. Fish and chips, curry, and meat pies did little to appease to him now that he realised how much of Lovino's cooking he had taken for granted. "I bloody miss your cooking."

"Thanks, bastard. Is that the only reason why you're with me?" Lovino retorted dryly.

"Of course not," Arthur answered blatantly with a cheeky smile, "it simply happens to be the most wonderful surprise after becoming acquainted with you and an especially phenomenal bonus when we started dating. I can only imagine what domestic life would be like next!"

"Chigi!" Lovino shoved Arthur aside lightly, increasing their distance by nearly an entire foot.

"I miss your shirty little attitude as well, my lovely little ankle-biter," Arthur teased, masking the subtle pain he felt at Lovino's makeshift gap. It prodded his heart momentarily, twisting and turning, causing a vertigo spell of uncertainty and discomfort. As though sensing Arthur's hurt or perhaps feeling a similar (the Briton really didn't know), the Italian gradually closed the space between them once again, and Arthur relished his body heat, restraining himself from wrapping an arm around Lovino's waist and pulling him closer.

"How's college?" Lovino inquired in an attempt as reconciliation.

"It's fine so far. Piano lessons are coming along well," Arthur mused, accepting his lover's attempt wholeheartedly. "Plus, Mathias is a fun git to have around as a suitemate, and I've been making new friends. There's even this ballerina, Anya Braginskaya from Moscow, who wants me to play the accompaniment for her recital, which I think might help me gain experience - broaden my horizons some. I'm not that familiar with Tchaikovsky."

"What the fuck is Tch-Tch - whatever," Lovino grunted, stumbling over the foreign name. He ignored that faint tinge of jealousy at the mention of some Russian ballerina. Ballerinas were notably beautiful, and this one was Russian. She must have some kind of grace Lovino obviously didn't have, clumsy as he was... and some balls if she was going after Arthur, dammit. He's also heard from Ludwig who heard from Gilbert who heard from Mathias who heard about Arthur who keeps bumping into some Italian fashion model who might have an interest in his boyfriend.

Ha, he'd be the only Italian lover in Arthur's life, Lovino thought smugly as he rubbed the platinum band around his ring finger. One day, he reminded himself, one day, they'll get married and eat the same meals at the same table cooked with vegetables from their garden with maybe one or two little mouths to feed. Maybe.

"He's a Russian composer," Arthur informed, breaking the younger boy out of his reverie. "You know of 'Snow Lake,' right? That was his composition, probably his most famous one aside from the 'Nutcracker Suite.'"

The blond then grasped onto Lovino's hand and smoothly guided his lover into a coffee shop. The Italian obliged - though his cheeks were a flaming scarlet - and waited patiently as the Briton ordered two cups of espresso. Just when Lovino was going to pay, Arthur had already completed the transaction and was about to hand over Lovino's cup.

"Hey, bastard! I was going to pay - "

Arthur patted Lovino's hand and marched right past him, leaving the Italian to follow after the blond. "Maybe," the Briton remarked, "I wanted to pay for the both of us. You told me that I have to be able to keep up with your expensive lifestyle, didn't you? I'm just doing my job as your beloved husband to-be!"

"But it's your birthday!" Lovino protested, cheeks glowing red. "You shouldn't have to pay for your own coffee on your birthday!"

"It's my birthday?" Arthur pulled out his phone to check the date. He blinked a few times the moment he realised that it truly was the twenty-third of April. "So it is..."

"You bastard..." Lovino growled. "Are you fucking kidding me?! How can you not know that it's your birthday?!" His words became slurred together, soon a mixture of Italian and English before fading entirely into Italian. Arthur glanced at the curious stares before snapping his fingers in front of Lovino's flashing hazel eyes. "What?!" he seethed.

"You're causing a bit of a scene, little ankle-biter," Arthur mused as he gestured to the on-lookers. "Let's talk somewhere else." The Briton avoided having to say any more by taking a sip of his warm espresso. Over the last month, he had developed a growing fixation with the bitter coffee since it reminded him of Lovino. Of course, he only ever drank espresso whenever he was pulling an all-nighter, and the amount of caffeine in tea wouldn't see him through the night. Naturally, he still enjoyed his Earl Grey, and the blond doubted that anything would ever change that just as he doubted that anyone would ever sway him away from Lovino. When he noticed that the Italian boy had remained silent, Arthur inquired of him with genuine concern, "What's gotten you so worked up, Lovino?"

"I never know what to do for you," Lovino muttered. His cheeks were still flushed red. "You're always... so far ahead."

"I'm right here in front of you, Lovino," Arthur mused, taking Lovino's free hand in his own. He hid their entwined hands away from public view, keeping away from people. "If you tell me to stop, I'll stop. if you tell me to wait, I'll wait. If you tell me to jump or speak or laugh or cry, I'll do whatever you want. I'm all yours." The blond took another bitter sip of his espresso. "I'd die for you."

"Bastard!" Lovino hissed, ramming his shoulder into Arthur's side and thereby making the latter stumble. "Don't fucking say that!" Lovino ran a hand through his hair, obviously distressed with Arthur's words. How many times had Arthur thrown himself into danger in the past year? He had drowned in October, he had exhausted himself fighting delinquents over November, he had wandered the streets in December, and he had nearly gotten crashed by a car that same month. Arthur being the slightest bit hurt or injured was the last thing Lovino wanted - even if it was for his own sake.

"Whatever makes you happy," Arthur chirped, tightening his hold on Lovino's hand, "I'll do it. The only thing I won't promise you is that I'll leave if you ever tell me to do so; I won't ever leave you alone."

Lovino blushed. "I don't only want to be on the receiving end in this relationship, bastard," he remarked coarsely. "Do you think I'm some fucking damsel in distress? Hell no! I'm not playing that part!"

"'And in the end,'" Arthur recited perfectly from memory, "'the love you take is equal to the love you make.'" The blond smiled. "I assure you, Lovino, that you aren't being spoiled senselessly, you conceited git."

"Oh yeah? Name once!"

"The days you came to visit me on the rooftop," Arthur began, "and the times you've brought me lunch. Another time when you chased after me even though I resolved to leave you alone and when you decided to fight me even though you have no fighting experience, when you stood up for me against even your family and when you stood by my side while I was bloody unconscious from the drowning incident, when you helped me practice for my interview and when you actually dared to chase after me at the airport in the middle of a traffic jam, when you invited me to eat dinner with your family and when you looked for me when I disappeared, when you took care of me after the crash and when you visited my family with me, and when you accepted my proposal... Need I say more?" He gave Lovino a sheepish smile. "You've already done so much, Lovino. You don't need to degrade yourself like that. I'm just happy that you still want to be with someone like me."

"Dammit," Lovino whimpered, voice cracking with tears. His hazel eyes were glossing over with tears. "You're so fucking embarrassing, bastard!" He blinked back the solution daring to drip from his eyes. "Don't you ever leave me, okay? I won't forgive you if you do!"

"I wouldn't dream of it," Arthur promised, finishing the rest of his espresso before tossing it into a nearby trash can. The two of them strolled leisurely downtown, occasionally peering beyond the glass windows of various boutiques. They dropped by a bookshop, where Arthur took great pleasure in reciting Shakespearean sonnets to Lovino, who was only trying to finish his espresso without choking in embarrassment at the sheer cheesiness of it all. They didn't leave without Arthur buying a copy of Alice's Adventures in Wonderland and a few of Shakespeare's plays that took place in Italy, which Lovino paid for at the last second much to Arthur's amusement.

"You've already bought me a diamond ring," Lovino grumbled, "and I don't expect to be able to pay it off this easily. Prepare yourself, bastard!"

Arthur laughed. "I just want another Lovino-cooked meal, really!" he assured, the paper bag from the bookshop hanging from his arm.

"Arthur, over here," Lovino declared firmly as he began to drag the taller blond down the pavement. The Briton noticed his workplace just a few paces away and wondered momentarily what Lovino was planning by taking him to the pub where he worked. (Ultimately, if he bought a drink, it meant that he would be returning the money he earned from his employer back to his employer, wouldn't it? Cameron would gladly accept the returned money, of course.) Still, he was silent as Lovino pushed open the door, where he was greeted with a tremendous, "Happy birthday!" each uttered in a distinctive language.

"W-What's all of this?" Arthur stammered. He could make out the faces in the crowd - Gilbert, Francis, Carriedo, Mathias, Jia Long and Emil, Lisa and Victoria, Kiku, Feliciano, Ludwig, Wang, Elizaveta, Roderich, Lukas, Vladimir, Lars, even Braginski and Alfred and Matthew and so many more! - gathered in the pub. There were no other clients except for the ones who shouted "Happy birthday!" The Briton flushed a deep red, grumbling, "You know I don't fancy surprise parties, but... Thanks."

Gilbert cackled, throwing an arm around his friend's shoulders, and crowed, "You only don't like them because you never remember that it's your birthday, Artie, so you're always thrown off-kilter!" Well, that's because they always make me feel like some bloody arsehole, Arthur thought bitterly, giving his friend a wry smile as the albino continued rambling on and on, crowing, "Surprise parties are awesome though, aren't they? That's because I planned it all!"

"Excuse-moi?" Francis snapped, marching up to Gilbert. "Are you taking all of the credit? I am the one who brought up the suggestion! I even made sure that Lovi cooked all of the food!"

"Amigos, amigos!" Carriedo exclaimed, throwing his arms around his two friends with a smile much too bright for Arthur to bear. "Calm down! Let's have something to drink! Like sangria!"

"Sangria?!" Gilbert recoiled with disgust. "Get me a beer! Bier!"

Before he left, however, Francis insisted adamantly on having the last word and crawled out of Antonio's grasp, letting his two friends leave first. He shoved a small paper bag into Arthur's hands, not having bothered to wrap the gift, and winked lewdly and shrewdly. "You can take a peek at your present, but it's better if you don't let anyone so much take a glance of it!" With a highly obnoxious laugh, Francis followed after his friends to the bar. Curiosity overwhelming his better judgement, Arthur peered into the bag cautiously before shrieking out Francis' name and causing a tremor to rumble throughout the pub. The Frenchman laughed louder than ever before. Naturally, Lovino asked him what was wrong, but the Briton placed a hand over his face to cover his reddened cheeks.

"Nothing. The frog is just a bloody perverted wanker," he grumbled before shoving the paper bag into the bag hanging from his arm, nestling it against his collection of books. Lovino gave his lover a skeptic glance but made no further comment.

"So this is what a bar looks like on the inside!" Alfred mused before he pulled Matthew to the billiards table. "Let's play a game, Mattie! Leon and Emil, too!" The four minors each greeted Arthur as they crossed the pub to indulge in a game of billiards, closely monitored by Berwald to prevent any illicit gambling or something of the sort.

"Leon?" Lovino repeated with utter bewilderment. "I thought everyone knew his real name is Jia Long by now?"

"Wanker probably thought 'Jia Long' was too hard to say," Arthur replied shortly. "Bloody Americans." He smirked. "You cooked all of the food here tonight?"

Lovino flushed with embarrassment. "Shut up, bastard," he grunted. "I cooked everything I knew you like - appetizers, entrées, and desserts. I knew that you wouldn't get all of your meals at fucking college."

"Hey, Arthur!" Vladimir bounced forward, Lukas in tow, to greet him. "Long time, no see! How's college life treating you? Meet any pretty girls?" Vladimir waggled his eyebrows. He either did not hear Lovino's snarl or chose to ignore it, which was rather smart on the Romanian's part. "They must love your accent!"

"He's got two girls chasing after him now for sure!" Mathias boasted as he approached the party. "A Russian ballerina and an Italian model! There's also a female photographer from Spain who might have eyed him a few times! Plus, he's in a band with those two British chicks over there having a drink!" Sure enough, Lisa and Victoria were both drinking rum and cokes. They gave Arthur a little wave, and Lovino could feel his eyebrow twitch ever so slightly. He still wasn't on the greatest terms with the British brunette. "Arthur is just surrounded by girls!" Mathias sighed wistfully.

Vladimir whistled. "You're living the good life, aren't you?"

"Shut it, you gits."

"Stop being such a dog, Vladimir," Elizaveta sneered as Roderich escorted her to the bar. The latter took a risk for his girlfriend and seated himself between her and Gilbert. Vladimir joined them solely to banter with the Hungarian girl. Lukas and Mathias then parted to grab a drink, much to the former's discontent.

Both Braginski and Wang gave polite greetings to the birthday boy. Wang reported that he was currently studying in a bioengineering programme, focused more on being a researcher and scientist than a doctor, while Braginski admitted to studying at a local college to become a registered nurse. Arthur was glad to see the two of them doing well, and he was especially glad to hear that Wang wasn't having any more trouble from Jia Long ever since graduation.

"Good afternoon, Arthur-san," Kiku greeted with a polite smile as he approached his old friend. He ordered the Briton a pint and wished him a happy birthday.

"I thought you were studying in America," Arthur mused.

Kiku hummed in acknowledgement and responded, "Massachusetts has a three-day holiday in April called Patriots' Day. I ended up taking the week off to visit my friends and family." He smiled softly. "It is your birthday, after all. Congratulations on turning eighteen."

"Ta, mate," Arthur replied as he lifted the pint Kiku had ordered for him. Just as soon as he was about to commence a conversation with his old friend, something tackled him from behind, causing him to cry out in surprise, "Bloody hell!" He craned his neck and found himself subject to a rough pink tongue. "Winston! Down I say!" Despite the warning, Arthur was laughing merrily, patting his bulldog affectionately. "I missed you as well, old boy!" the Briton mused as he sat upright, allowing Winston to nestle on his lap like old times. He smiled at his family and remarked, "What are you arseholes doing here?"

"Peter wanted tae see ye," Alistair retorted just as smoothly, revealing the cowering child behind his legs, "and you've got a delivery."

Owain presented him with a bouquet of forget-me-nots, coloured with pastel hues, and handed him a card. The Welsh Kirkland whispered into Arthur's ear, "It's from your father, apparently."

Arthur's eyes widened as he flipped open the card, eyes skimming the content with pure and utter curiosity. Lovino leaned over his shoulder, and Arthur didn't bother hiding him the content. The Italian would have found out eventually anyway.

In perfectly fluid longhand, his father had written,

Happy eighteenth birthday, Arthur!

You look just like your mother.

I apologise for not having ever been around in your life, but, to be fair, I did not even know of your existence until I saw you for myself. I know that it is probably just an excuse, however, on my part, and that it truly does not justify what you had or have undergone. It took a bit of prying to discover the address of the Kirkland estate, but even if this gift does not reach you, I had to try. Maybe one day, if you're not angry with me, we could meet again - officially, that is. We have already met once on Valentine's Day, and I hope that you could give me a chance to be your father. You probably resent me; still, I understand if you do. I had to try though; eighteen years have passed already. I could not let more time pass by or between us.

Sincerely,
Oliver Rowland

The card trembled in Arthur's hand, and he wasn't sure what to feel. Excitement? Enraged? Bloody hell, he didn't know, and he was already a mess. Still, he smiled as Lovino took his hand and held it firmly. Alistair then propped Peter onto his shoulders and announced that they would have to leave. This place wasn't proper for an eight year old child, he reasoned, and Arthur agreed with him. Besides, there was nothing for a kid to do in a place with only booze, pool, darts, and a few retro game machines. Arthur waved goodbye as Alistair turned around and as Seamus took reign of Winston's lead.

Later that evening, Lovino insisted on seeing Arthur's suite, and the Briton had no reason to decline. Instead, the blond made sure Lovino notified Mr Vargas before they boarded a bus back to St George's. The Italian took in all of the night scenery with a soft smile on his lips, admiring the sites, as Arthur held onto his hand. Even on the way to the Elizabethan Tower, neither of them uttered a single word, preserving the moment into their memories, as they swung their hands back and forth idly and leisurely, hidden away from any peering eyes. Sneaking Lovino into the dormitory, Arthur brought him to his and Mathias' suite, the latter assuring Arthur that he wouldn't be back tonight because he would be staying with Lukas, Emil, and Berwald and Tino. It was, after all, their first reunion since graduation.

Opening the door, Elizabeth was quick to greet and welcome Lovino in place of Arthur, who laughed at the sight, commenting, "She really missed you."

"I can see that, bastard," Lovino remarked dryly before picking up the cat and rubbing his nose against hers. He smiled as she meowed delicately. He then set her on the floor and mentioned, "Which one is your room?"

"On the left," Arthur replied shortly. "Why?"

"Come on, bastard," Lovino demanded impatiently, crossing across the living space to the bedroom on the left. He tried opening the door but was surprised to find it locked. Arthur chuckled and explained that the security mechanism in the tower worked accordingly: each suite had an automatic main lock, but each individual bedroom had a lock as well to preserve privacy for each and every student. Lovino rolled his eyes and waited for Arthur to unlock the door.

The Briton pulled the door open like a perfect gentleman and bowed gracefully, or dramatically, chiming, "After you, little ankle-biter!" Lovino snorted and shuffled inside of the bedroom, and Arthur closed the door behind him. He was surprised to find Lovino shutting off the lights the moment he tried turning them on. The Italian was already stripping off Arthur's cardigan and unbuckling his belt. Taken back, the blond stammered, temporarily reverting back to his natural dialect in his moment of apprehension and panic, "W-Wot're yew doin', L-Lovino?"

"Shut up, bastard," Lovino hissed, fumbling nervously with the button of his lover's jeans. Arthur grabbed his wrists and wasn't all that surprised to find that Lovino was shaking, but at the spark of determination flashing in the smaller's eyes, Arthur slackened his hold and guided the younger to the bed, kicking off his boots and peeling off Lovino's Doc Martins as well.

Taking charge, the blond pulled off Lovino's waistcoat and flung the black tie aside, unbuttoning Lovino's shirt and kissing every bit of tanned skin that was slowly and gradually unveiled. Lovino shuddered under his touch and pulled his lover closer, wrapping his arms around Arthur's neck. He bit his lip as he felt a sharp pain pierce through his flesh before a soothing, moist warmth washed over the laceration, sucking stubbornly and persistently, marking the olive skin possessively. The Briton left one love bite on his collarbone, another on his chest, one on his abdomen, another on his shoulder, one on the back of his neck, and another and another. Arthur pulled away momentarily, stripping himself of his shirt, before he closed the distance between them, relishing in Lovino's warm body against his own, the skin to skin contact arousing his senses. His breath hitched as he felt Lovino trace the patterns of ink imprinted in his skin, appraising the masterful artwork, before pressing a shy kiss to the Tudor rose. Arthur's heart swelled with a surge of emotions roaring through his veins, overflowing his body with a foreign passion, nearly destroying himself inside and obliterating his patience and tolerance.

When Arthur made a move to strip Lovino of his trousers, the Italian noticeably stiffened, frozen to solid ice with utter trepidation. Retracting his hand, Arthur instead opted to pull Lovino into a tight embrace. Oh, he understood perfectly now. "You don't have to do this," Arthur whispered into Lovino's ear, stroking his silky locks of hair. "I told you that I'd wait for you. There's no rush, my darling little ankle-biter."

Lovino felt tears prick at his eyes as he buried his face into the nape of Arthur's neck. "Fuck," he cursed, "but you've already done so much... I feel like a kid compared to you."

Arthur smiled bitterly. "We've had this conversation before, I'm sure," the blond mused, "but I'm not willing to take you if you're this frightened. You still have doubts about it, don't you? About sex? Probably even more doubts than you usually would since it's with a man?" He pressed a kiss to the top of Lovino's head before nuzzling his face into the silky tresses. "I'll take care of you whenever you want to... you know. I promise you that. I don't want just bloody sex, anyway. Now might not be the right time, but... I appreciate that you wanted to make this day special for me, Lovino. This day has been special enough though. I mean, I got to see you again, and I got to hold hands with you again. I got to laugh and smile with you again, and I got to see that delicious blush again. Now I get to hold you in my arms. I love you so much, Lovino, and this is enough for me."

Lovino buried his face into Arthur's chest, mumbling, "I love you, too, Arthur, but I'm sure. I'm positive."

"About what, luv?"

"I want you. Badly. Right now." Lovino pulled closer to Arthur, swallowing the Briton's lips in a long, loving kiss thrown into the spiraling, never-ending depths of passion. He whispered, "I might be scared, but erase my fears for me, bastard. It's your job as my husband to-be, isn't it?" Warmth pooled in their stomachs, flooding through their bodies, welling in their chests, as they pulled closer and closer, burning one another with their touches fervently and feverishly.

And Arthur obliged, willingly, delightedly, to pleasing his lover. The English pressed Lovino back against the mattress, pinning the smaller boy beneath his body, and devoured his plush, plump lips with kiss after kiss after kiss innumerable times, comforting his lover chastely and gently, before slipping in his tongue and deepening their touches. The Italian snaked his arms once more about Arthur's neck, adamant on decimating the distance between them, and followed suite, sneaking his tongue into Arthur's wet cavern, prodding curiously at the metal pearl piercing his lover's warm tongue. He yelped in surprise as he felt a cool, slick finger prod at his entrance.

"Sorry," Arthur apologised breathlessly, giving Lovino a brief sheepish smile though his emeralds were sparkling with lust, desire, and utter adoration. Lovino shuddered at the sensation though he was not sure if it was from the sight of those deep green eyes or from Arthur's ministrations. "I kind ov have to do this." A second finger entered Lovino, and he squirmed uncomfortably. It felt like something didn't belong there; it felt unnatural. Doubt began to cloud Lovino's mind as the blond stretched him; what if he didn't want this after all? What if this wasn't right? What if Arthur wasn't - ?

"Oh!"

A devilish smirk crept onto Arthur's lips.

"There we go."

A finger brushed over that one spot yet again, experimentally, and a white flame flickered within Lovino. Unable to suppress his emotions any longer, a wanton moan crawled past his throat, dragging itself beyond his lips, and lingering in the heavy atmosphere. He froze in a mixture of apprehension and anticipation when he felt Arthur's aching member brush against his entrance. The Briton pulled Lovino into his arms, burying his face into the Italian's neck, and whispered, "Just relax. I'm ready when you are."

The younger boy gave a brief nod, his chocolate locks brushing against Arthur's pale, bare skin, and a breath hitched in his throat as he felt Arthur press into him slowly and carefully, filling him entirely. "Dio mio," he whispered as warm tears pricked at his eyes. It hurt, unbearably so, but as Arthur buried his face into the crook of Lovino's neck further, the Italian tightened his hold on his lover. It was okay. He smiled, his lips brushing against Arthur's skin. It's okay. No, it was more than okay.

Arthur started shifting, rolling his hips, and thrusting into his lover. Lovino's fingers threaded through golden locks as he occasionally whispered sweet Italian endearments into the Briton's ears even though he knew that Arthur didn't understand them. Perhaps that was for the best because he just knew he couldn't live with himself if Arthur understood them word for word, literal and figurative, verbatim. It was too embarrassing.

Their momentum built up and lead them to the edge of their spiraling passion that ultimately unbounded. The white flame burning within the depths of Lovino's being burst with a sensual, erotic cry of his lover's name, and even though Arthur was forced to pull away, his seed filled the small Italian. He bent to his spitfire and pressed a chaste kiss behind his ear, his lips dancing closer and closer to his lips, tracing a pattern onto his cheeks and down his jaw. After a moment, Arthur laughed suddenly - a brief, low chortle - and muttered something under his breath among the lines of, "That frog was actually kind of insightful." Before his lover could ask him anything, pecking Lovino's swollen lips, Arthur asked lovingly, adoring, and lasciviously, "Round two?"

"Bastard, do you have to ask?"

It was more than okay, Lovino thought to himself with a tender smile as warmth filled his body yet again, swelling him with exuberance. It was definitely more than okay. It was -

"Brilliant," Arthur whispered with a short laugh.

- brilliant, Lovino agreed, the smile on his lips widening. At the very least, it was brilliant.

They danced throughout the night and slept until late noon in one another's arms, lingering in bed simply smiling at each other, chattering and laughing, taking advantage of their moment of privacy, until Arthur realised that he had forgotten to feed Elizabeth her breakfast.

A/N: During their date, Arthur quoted another of The Beatles' song, "The End."

Originally, I left Arthur's father as "anonymous" but later felt that it was kind of annoying - especially to the reader. Because Arthur had been struggling with his family ever since the beginning of the story, I just decided that it would be better if I hint at him slowly resolving his issues. Originally, there was no love-making scene between Arthur and Lovino because I figured, "Ha, that would leave way for a sequel if I ever feel like writing one," and then I realised, "Wait, I almost never feel like writing sequels." I've considered writing a sequel for this universe though, centred on Arthur's struggles in college more than his romance with Lovino. I have three chapters written for it and the rest planned and mapped out, but I'm still uncertain and uneasy about writing it.

The rest is a few pointers on some symbolism I just want to talk about, ha. So you can just skip it. It's the longest Author's Note anyway.

In this story, Lovino is always wearing the Armani boots he bought with his first paycheck. It means that he's comfortable wearing his own shoes and nobody else's. When Arthur sees that he's wearing Doc Martens (a British brand on top on being a new pair of shoes), I wonder what that means!

At first, I honestly did see Lovino as a sort of chihuahua when I began planning this story, but then the more research I did on chihuahuas, the less suited it appeared. Then I came across the Maltese. My first reaction: "It's a f**king long-haired rat. What. The. Hell. That's a dog?" It really looks cuter with a puppy-cut though, haha. Not only was it Italian, but it also suffers from separation anxiety and almost constantly barks for attention, generally speaking. When I looked it up on Wikipedia, it was described as the most abandoned dog breed in South Korea and Australia, and my heart just hurt.

There's a few motifs on dreams dispersed about the story, but I'll leave that up to you! I'm more focused on the fantasy aspect of it all, personally. When I began writing this, I wanted to make Arthur almost untouchable, which was why his appearance was describe as ethereal. I wanted Lovino to contrast that since I found the latter so down-to-earth with his character design. This ultimately creates a gap that Lovino was desperate to cross in order to reach Arthur, and Marianne further accents the sheer impossibility (or near impossibility) of that desire. Why? Because Arthur calls her an enchantress, a temptress, siren, etc. etc. which explains the tattoos on his back.

Arthur was probably the most complex character I've written, but it's probably because he could wear so many expressions. That's part of the reason why I had to give him a Cockney dialect and make him come from East End. That, and Sid Vicious was from Hackney.

As much as I love tsuntsun!Arthur, there wasn't much of him in this story, which makes me feel kind of bad. I wanted his character to be more tsundere, but he came out a little too badass for that. His variant of the school uniform came from his Pink Police artworks instead of the Gakuen Hetalia design. When I began planning, that wasn't supposed to happen, but after playing Final Fantasy XIII for the nth time and the DLC for Dissidia 012, I was inspired by Lightning's variant of the GC uniform and wanted to make Arthur stand out more. Also, because he wasn't the student council president, I based his entire wardrobe from England's punk phase rather than his smart casual wear.

In regards to the warm/cool contrast of Lovino and Arthur, it's a reflection of Italian and British climates... Plus, "cool hands mean a warm heart," and a few other things I can't really explain, hahaha! When Lovino compares Antonio's and Arthur's hands though, it really does mean something. I just have a hard time describing it, so I'll leave it to your interpretation!

Well, that should be it! Anyway, I'm really happy this last chapter got posted, which is kind of why I rambled a bit here. There's quite a bit I wanted to point out and talk about; it's like the last pages of the novel nobody ever reads because the author is talking about the techniques they've used. I really am quite touched if you read it all the way through though, and thank you (thank you so much) to everyone who's stuck all the way to the end and to everyone who's read, reviewed, favourited, or followed!

This is the end, and I hope you liked it! Goodbye! ...and maybe we'll meet again someday?