The luxurious streets of Italy was packed for the summer as busy tourists hurried in and out of the shops, and the beautiful Italian language could be heard among actual Italians, and broken Itanglish could be found among the English tourists, as they failed to get the Italian language right.

Lovino Vargas, a little child, was huddled by one of the benches outside of a ristorante. Clutching his knees and holding them up to his face, it looked as if he glared at everyone walking by. He had gotten himself lost in the swarming crowds. Now all he could do was sit and cry, hoping his mother or his brother would come find him.

Of course, Feliciano wouldn't come find him. He wouldn't have noticed him being lost, anyway. 'That stupido fratello of mine…never pays any attention at all. And now I'm lost…' A tear slid down his cheek again, and suddenly a finger came up to his face and brushed it away.

Lovino looked up and saw a man with dark brown, slightly curly, hair, and brilliantly bright green eyes. Lovino stared the man down, wondering why he dared touch him. This was when he noticed the strange man held a guitar, and was smiling down at him sweetly.

"Ah, amigo, do not be afraid. I'm Antonio, but you can call me Tony, bien?" Antonio sat down next to Lovino and propped the guitar on his leg. "And your nombre would be…?"

At first, Lovino refused to speak. Instead, he continued to stare him down, still clutching his legs, hiding most of his face in his knees. He didn't even understand most of what Antonio was saying, anyway, but he guessed he was asking his name by the way it was put.

Lovino shook his head, and buried it even more in his knees, forcing down the urge start bawling. He wasn't going to show this stranger that he was crying and lost, and even if he did, he would have cursed him out if he dared laugh at him.

Suddenly, Lovino heard soft music playing, and he slowly peeked through his legs to see what was causing it. Antonio was strumming his guitar, humming a Spanish song under his breath. Lovino squinted at him, wondering why he was playing a guitar at a time like this. Antonio would draw attention to the crying Lovino!

"See, now. Isn't this better than being lonely?" Antonio cooed, glancing over at the little child, who quickly hid his head again.

A few moments later, Antonio felt something lay on his side, and he looked over and chuckled softly.

"Sleep soundly, mi amigo. You've had a long day…" whispered Antonio to the sleeping Italian boy, and continued to softly strum his guitar.