For the lovely Echoes of Shadows and my amazing Beta reader who read through everything for me.

The day was perfect; the first in too many weeks of cloud and rain. The sun blazed down from an endless, crystal blue sky. It stretched out in all directions, unbroken, not a cloud or a bird daring to cross it. The warm heat was everywhere, dry and cracked in the air, pleasant for those who had lived in it most of their lives, pounding for those who had travelled from further north for quaint holidays. The sun beat down, heating the world, the bustling people on the streets. Summer was finally arriving. Passers by, northern tourists hiding in the shade from the banging heat, locals embracing the sun in their shorts and hats, soaking it in before it disappeared for hibernation again, would walk by the quaint, little cafe, nestled between the rustic, back alley buildings and narrow streets of Barcelona, and think how thirsty they were after their hours of walking in the shining sun, sight seeing, shopping on the main street not five minutes away, think how stopping for a drink or an ice cream might not be such a bad idea. The outside tables were already full, bustling with tourist's orders of lunch or a quick iced drink in the summer sunshine – luckily the narrow alley didn't stop the sun from shining down most of the day – and the inside tables were quickly becoming busier as more and more decided to order. By the time the lunch hour hit they would be under a lot of pressure, waiters rushing back and forth between tables, the kitchen on full throttle from the load of so many orders. They would need to bring some more tables outside. They'd be loosing customers if people wanted to sit outside but there were no more seats available.

"Antonio! We need you over here!"

The voice shouted from inside the cafe, making Antonio start from his wondering thoughts. He looked round from where he stood, outside staring at the sun, to try and find who had called his name. His eye was caught by another waitress – what was her name again – leaning out the door and glaring at him. He smiled sheepishly back at her, making his way over quickly. He needed to stop drifting off and day dreaming like that, especially on days this busy.

"I'm sorry-"

"Don't apologise to me, it's your cafe. Francis just said he needed your help in the kitchen. There's a mad rush going on in there."

Antonio nodded sharply, taking the order to heart and quickly rushing inside to get to the kitchen. It must be hectic. He was never needed in the kitchen unless they were desperate for an extra pair of hands. He hoped they weren't getting the meals out too late; he couldn't afford to loose anymore customers after such a lousy winter. He hoped that loosing the extra waiter out the front wouldn't cost them either.

Where was Lovino when you needed him?

"Oi, bastard! I'm here now. What do you want me to do?"

Antonio whirled round at the sweet sound of Lovino's voice, as grouchy and as cute as ever. He was stood at the doorway, his usual half-frown on his face, busy putting on his apron ready for work. The sun streamed behind him, lighting up his hair a beautiful, golden brown, making him glow as though he were an angel sent down especially for Antonio.

"Lovi~!" Antonio ran forward, almost tackling Lovino to the ground with his hug, an ecstastic grin plastered on his face. It was a miracle the Italian was here, on his day off of all days, especially to help the chaos that was a cafe right now. He was such a kind person. Antonio would be forever grateful to him.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you-"

"Alright! I get the idea. Now let go, dammit!"

Lovino's protests fell upon obliviously ears, Antonio only hugging tighter, an ever growing need to express his gratitude flowering inside of him. It was only when Lovino began squirming in his arms did Antonio remember that they were stood in the middle of the cafe. Reluctantly, Antonio unwound himself from the Italian. Lovino had never been very good at dealing with public affection. But Antonio always did it anyway. It was worth it just to see his face burn bright red like it was now. The way he stood in front of him, arms crossed, an impatient scowl already forming on his face... God, he looked so cute~

"Stop grinning at me like the idiot you are and just tell me what I'm supposed to do already."

Antonio blinked.

"Right... right... er... You need to wait and bust tables. Yes, that's it. Francis wants me in the kitchen while it's this busy so it'll just be you and her-" He gestured towards the other waitress. "-is that okay, Lovi?" Antonio shot the Italian his most apologetic smile, promising him anything he wanted to repay his kindness. Lovino just glared at him before nodding curtly, heading off to a near by table to begin his job.

Antonio watched him go for a moment, still smiling uncontrollably, still not able to believe that Lovino had done this just for him. He was only able to snap from his daydreaming when Lovino himself disappeared from view to the bustling tables outside in the sunshine. The smile never left Antonio's face as he finally turned and walked into the kitchen.

"Antonio! So glad you're here."

He was immediately greeted by Francis' rushed voice, a flash of blonde hair and a wave skimming past him frantically on the way to the sink. The burning heat of the stoves hit him first, the full shock of a slap in the face, as he walked through the swinging doors. Sounds of clanging pots, sizzling meats frying in pans and oil, quick Spanish yells trying to be heard over everything else surrounded Antonio's ears. The delicious smells of frying meats, spices and herbs, boiling soup, flared in his nostrils. People rushed through the kitchen, weaving and winding their way through the maze of stoves, worktops and sinks, always needing to get somewhere, hectic in desperation to get the costumer's meals out on time. Someone shoved past Antonio, apologising briefly, not even giving him a second look. A stove not a few meters away burst up in flame, orange and yellow dancing to the ceiling in tall licks before it burnt out to the small, blue fire it was meant be. Antonio's smile slowly vanished as he took in the sight. It was chaos.

"Francis! What happened here?" Antonio called. The only response to question was having a knife shoved into his fingers by a very rushed Frenchman and being briskly guided to a worktop. Vegetables piled high beside him. A chopping board sat directly in front.

"We need you to chop. Onions, tomatoes, everything. Tell us when you finish it." With that said, and a quick pat on the back of encouragement, he was left alone in the hectic rush of the kitchen. It was a moment before Antonio's mind caught up with everything, finding himself lost in the chaotic rush. Sighing, he quickly got to work.

It wasn't long before the Spaniard discovered that from where he stood he had a perfect view of the cafe front, as the newly prepared meals were passed out to the waiters to be served to the patiently waiting customers. He watched as Lovino and the girl hurriedly took down orders, twisted and dodged tables in their rush, giving the customers their meals and receiving the payment, smiling or frowning at the array of tips that they got with it. His eyes mostly followed Lovino – when he wasn't being told to pay attention by the frantic chefs – the look of concentration on the Italian's face as he wrote down the orders, that fake smile he put on for the customers sake. Every five minutes or so Lovino's scowling face would appear at the hole. Antonio always flashed him his biggest grin. Lovino only rolled his eyes back.

Antonio soon found it impossible to keep his eyes off Lovino for more than a few minutes. He was just so graceful, dancing back and forth in the frantic rush as though he was designed especially for this job, for these circumstances. The way his hair glowed in the Spanish sunshine, the way he mumbled in Italian to himself, words that Antonio never understood but always could get the undertones of, about the customers, about the cafe, about everything, the way his cheeks tinted red whenever he caught Antonio gazing at him, the way his frown changed into a half smile...

"Antonie! You're daydreaming again~"

Antonio blinked, Francis' voice slicing through his faraway thoughts and snapping him back to reality. He frowned slightly at the Frenchman's knowing smile, leaning in though the hole towards the kitchen.

Francis winked. "It was about that Italian boy again, wasn't it?"

Antonio couldn't stop his cheeks from tinting red at being caught out, averting his eyes to the plates below him. A dreamy sigh still slipped through his lips though.

Looking for any way to avoid Francis' annoyingly direct question, Antonio took the plates and gave them to the still waiting customers. With the lunch time rush having died down, Antonio had been allowed back out the front to wait tables again. Now, as the afternoon was beginning to draw into the cool air of the evening, there were only a few customers remaining, mostly there for a mid-afternoon snack of ice cream or coffee. He gave the customers their orders – two coffees, a platter of pan-con-tomate and an ice cream for their child. They all thanked him, especially the child, his eyes widening ecstatically at his ice cream, and Antonio smiled friendlily back at them. When he returned to the hole, Francis was still smiling mischievously, much to his annoyance. It hadn't really been that obvious that he was avoiding the Frenchman's question, had it?

"Have you asked him out yet?" Antonio shook his head. He wasn't like Francis, able to compliment, flirt and get a date with every person that he fancied within a few short minutes. He was much more discreet, shyer, as some people might say. "You should do it now. You've been pining after him for almost a month now."

"I haven't been pining," Antonio cried, realising too late how loudly it was. His hands flew his mouth and his eyes widened desperately, all too late. Francis's smile only widened at Antonio's reaction. He was teasing him, Antonio knew it, and much his disappointment, it was working. Francis opened his mouth, as though he was about to come up with another taunting answer, but his eyes darted upwards suddenly, focusing behind Antonio's shoulder, and he was silent, a smirk worming onto him face. He lowered his eyes and quickly went back to his cooking duties. This only succeeded to twist at Antonio's stomach.

"What?" He peaked behind him nervously, intrigued to know what had silenced the Frenchman, only to come face to face with Lovino himself. He was staring at Antonio, eyebrows raised questioningly, arms crossed defensively. Antonio felt his cheeks burn bright red.

"You've been 'pining'? Over who?"

Fuck

Antonio's blush deepened rapidly, suddenly stuck at how to answer. He spluttered and tripped over his words, only adding to his increasing embarrassment. The desperate wish to bolt out the cafe there and then before anything worse could happen – how could it get any worse than this – washed through him. Why did this have to happen to him? Why the hell did Francis have to say anything? It's like he planned this to happen or something.

"N-nobody-"

"Just some boy he's known for a while~ Quite cute really. I think you would like him Lovino."

A mocking laugh broke from Francis. Antonio just stared at him, mouth hanging open in shock, sudden panic whirling through him. He gave Lovino a flustered smile, laughing quickly, awkwardly, with his friend, before leaning through the hole to Francis.

"Shut the fuck up, Francis," he hissed, shooting a warning glare to the man as best he could, hoping it sounded as threatening as he wanted. But it only made Francis laugh harder. Why did no one ever take him seriously?

Lovino just stared at them, utterly lost. He shot them both weird looks, eyeing them as though he thought they were completely mad. Antonio panicked, but Lovino had already cut in before he could even try to save himself.

"Whatever," Lovino muttered to himself, shaking his head slowly. "Like I give a fuck about your social life." The Italian leaned forward to grab the steaming plate sitting on the side, needing any excuse to escape the conversation he had walked into, but Francis stopped him, grinning at him with a playful smile. It was already too late by the time Antonio realised what he was up to.

"You know, Lovino, there's something my friend here wished to ask you." He gestured elegantly to Antonio. The Spaniard shook his head slowly, wide eyed in terror and desperate panic. He tried to mouth the word 'No' behind Lovino's head as he glared at Francis but it was already too late. The Italian turned to Antonio expectantly, an eyebrow raised. Antonio could only smile nervously, silent for a moment as the lump in his throat caught his voice.

"N-no, I-"

"Just go ahead and fucking ask me, jerk. I haven't got all day."

Antonio suddenly became conscious of everyone around him, of the chattering voices, of their prying eyes. A strange sense of paranoia flushed through him. He was all too aware of few remaining customers, the silence that filled them, their sudden too nosy interest in his own private life, in what was about to happen. It was as if they purposely wanted to make his embarrassment stronger, to make sure the whole world knew about his flustered mistake. His cheeks flush brighter.

He glanced around. Only Lovino and Francis were looking, waiting, only they were interested.

Antonio gazed at his hands, fiddling nervously with his fingers. He could feel Lovino's expectant stare boring impatiently into him. He swallowed, preparing himself.

"I was just wondering if... you know... maybe..." His voice was quiet, unsure. He tried to sound confident, thinking of all the times Francis had done this, so nonchalantly, so breezy, as if it were the easiest thing in the world. But now, as Antonio's words hung silent in his mouth, as sweat gathered on his brow and his hands became clammy, he knew that was not the case.

"D-do you want to go out on a date sometime?"

There a moment of tense anticipation. The seconds ticked by, heavy in waiting, in expectancy for Lovino's answer. Antonio couldn't bare the silence. His will eventually overcame his intense anxiety. He had to know. He needed an answer. When he looked up though, he felt his blood run cold at the look of uncertain surprise on Lovino's face, his scowl for once fading in place of shock. He thought he could see his cheeks beginning to tint red.

"I-"

"Come on, mon ami. Give me one good reason why you would not want to date Antonio," Francis cut loudly into the moment, mock-pleading running thick through his voice. He leant over the counter and grabbed Antonio by the shoulders, turning to display him to Lovino like a prize show dog. Antonio tried to smile apologetically at him, he tried to wriggle out from Francis' grip, but it was really no use. "He's cute, and lovable-" A quick pinch to the cheeks "-you'd be lucky to have a man like him. He's hot as well, perfectly fuckable-"

"Francis!"

Lovino's cheeks suddenly burnt bright red.

"Go fuck yourselves! Both of you!"

Lovino's shout echoed too loudly through the cafe. People's heads turned, staring directly at them, all with boring, accusing eyes, but Lovino didn't care. He continued to glare at Antonio, puffing out his cheeks, face flaring red with humiliation and anger, before tearing off his apron, throwing to the floor violently at Antonio's feet and storming from the cafe. A trail off Italian curses flitted after him, fading from ear shot as he travelled further and further down the street. Eventually the cafe was left in silence. People awkwardly went back to their own meals, their own business.

Antonio was left alone in utter dismay. His shining smile had vanished, replaced by a cold frown of rejection. He felt small, like the whole world had ganged up on him only to ruin that perfect moment, as though he were nothing more than an insignificant flea. The crushing disappointment that filled him was more than he could handle. Everyone was staring. Everyone was judging. Everyone was witnessing his worst fear come true. He only wanted to crawl in a corner, alone, with no one there bring back his shame, and cry to himself. The rejection was too overwhelming.

"Antonio, mon ami-"

"Not now Francis." Antonio didn't try to hide the rejection that lay thick in his voice. He didn't want to talk to anyone. He just wanted to be alone right now. Brushing Francis to the side, he turned at headed for the back door. He could feel the eyes of many indiscreetly following him as he went. He ignored it as best he could, pushing the prickling feeling to the side.

The back alleys smells hit him hard as he opened the back door. The stench of cooking fat and rotting vegetables stung his nostrils. He ignored it. The back alley was drenched in shade, hidden from the sun by the cafe that loomed behind him. To the left lay the main road, stretching out in the open a few hundred metres down the alley, to right the small street on which his cafe resided. The distant sound of rushing cars and chattering pedestrians floated down to Antonio.

The Spaniard took a few steps forward, letting the door close gently behind him, before stopping. He sighed heavily and leant against one of the tall walls. It was no longer than a minute before his tears began to spill.