It's warm.

It's not an overwhelming kind of warmth- it's the kind that makes you want to tuck in closer to your blanket, rub your feet against the sheets, and curl into a little ball.

But in this case, there's no blanket. Just a crazy Spaniard.

Lovino's head rests in his lap, fingers aimlessly toying with the hem of Antonio's flannel. It smells like laundry detergent. He tries to push the totally-fucking-homosexual-times-nine-thousand thought of I think I like his smell better out of his head.

That's so creepy, he thinks, his eyebrows furrowing for a second.

But then again, Antonio and him had made out behind a tree in central park. And it was only eight thirty when that had happened. Who the fuck hooks up at eight thirty?

His eyes flutter in a lazy motion when Antonio cards his hand through his hair, tickling at the tip of his head pleasantly. They caress downwards, fingertips running up and down his cheek in an affectionate manner, returning to his hair after a few seconds.

He feels so pliant- so weak- right now. He's never allowed anyone (Not that they'd ever tried. Nobody likes you, Lovino. He forces his mind to shut the hell up.) to touch him like this. To- to almost...cradle him like this, one hand stroking his head and the other resting on a thigh. He looks up. There's Antonio's face, green eyes shining, and then the sky- absolutely dull by comparison. But then again, it was the city. The only stars that ever really shone were the lights from the bridge.

Antonio catches Lovino's wandering gaze and smiles. Lovino grunts and frowns- well, as much of a frown as he can force, because it looks more like a smile having a seizure. A soft laugh escapes Antonio when he sees Lovino trying to hold back his grin. He doesn't want him to. It's really, really pretty. Although, of course, Lovino was always pretty. Well, he thinks so, anyways. Maybe beautiful was a better word? Handsome? Eye-catching? It hits him hard, especially here- when he can touch him- it's just so much better. And he wants nothing more than to kiss Lovino again.

"Mm, Lovi."

"Yeah?"

"Come kiss me."

Lovino sputters a bit before resigning himself to Antonio. He wraps two legs around him to get situated in his lap. He just can't get that blush to fade, though, fucking damnit.

Antonio moves in first, and then they're connected, kissing slowly and sleepily. It doesn't have the urgency of before. It's a soft, romantic, and sweet-feeling kiss that sends even more feelings of warmth through the Italian. Antonio breaks away a couple times to pepper little kisses on his neck, jaw, and ears, enjoying figuring out where Lovino's sensitive spots were. So far, it seemed to be the side of his neck, the tip of his ear, and this one spot right about his brow, near his hairline.

He pressed a final peck on Lovino's lips, pushing some loose hair behind his ear with a gentle motion.

"It's late, Lovi..."

He doesn't want to leave him. But Antonio's pretty sure he can't keep Lovino for more than the- three hours, maybe?- they've already been here. The more colorful, but dimmer lights of clubs and bars had sprung up around them, signaling that yeah, it's time to go home. He glanced down at his watch. It was almost twelve...he had to get back.

"But-"

"My mom. She said she wanted me back by twelve-thirty. She thinks I'm 'checking out the city' right now."

"But it's only, like, eleven forty something."

"I also have to drive. And we're in New York City."

Lovino clicked his tongue. "Touché."

He climbs off of Antonio, brushing himself off. He pops the collar of his coat on a second thought- wouldn't want any weird questions about his neck...Lovino scowls. He doesn't think "Vampires!" would be a legitimate excuse.

Antonio wrestles his keys from out of a cluttered pocket, a triumphant "Ha!" sounding when he finds them.

"Tomorrow?"

Lovino nods fervently. "Tomorrow."

It's a promise that's sealed when their lips connect for a final time.

"Buenas noches, mi amado." He whispers it in his ear with a soft, mischievous chuckle, before walking away.

Lovino crosses his arms and pouts. "I don't fucking speak Spanish!"

He pulls out his phone, angrily pressing with his thumbs. Google Translate spits back out the results.

My beloved.

"You- You're such a frickin' weirdo!" He calls out, albeit less rash than it had originally seemed in his head. Antonio just laughs as he walks, holding up his hands in a heart and doing a cat-call.

Lovino facepalms.

He can't help breaking out into a fit of giggles as he walks home.

The house smells like pesto- dinner, he assumes.

"I'm back." He calls out. His grandfather turns his head from his book, placing it open-faced on the couch.

"Hm, Lovino? Oh." He nudges up his reading glasses. "Why didn't you text me?"

"It's not like it matters. I'm seventeen, not five."

His grandfather frowns. "Why can't you be nicer?"

Lovino takes off his shoes. "I'm nice enough."

"Feliciano...he's so- you know? Why can't you be more like him?"

His eyes narrow, and he shoots him a toxic glare.

"Because I'm not him."

Oh, we know.

His head starts to hurt already. Damn these thoughts. Damn his stupid family.

"I know that, Lovino. But you could try to be a bit ki-"

Lovino gives a loud groan, gripping at his shoes angrily.

"Can you fucking stop!?"

His grandfather is silent. He continues. There's no going back now.

"I'm not him. I'll never be him. You need to fucking realize that!"

Romano, I'm going to Luddy's house!

"I can't be a goddamn copy of everything he was! I'm not the same!"

Are you sure you're okay to go alone?

"I'm Lovino Vargas, not Feliciano Vargas the perfect fucking angel!"

Yeah, its only, hmm...a-a mile or so? I haven't walked that far before...but...yeah, I'll be okay.

Alright, just call me when you get there.

"You need to stop telling me to be like him! I'm. Not. Him! How the hell can I make you see that!? I already go through so much shit because of him!"

Hey, Feliciano, can you call me? I know you're a slow walker, but can you update me?

Feli...it shouldn't take that long. Did you forget to call? Damnit, Feli...please call me back.

Feliciano! Where the fuck are you!? I've been looking all over- Ludwig's looking too, nobody knows where you are, please, please, please pick up your phone!

"Lovino, don't you talk to me like that."

"No, fuck you! Why can't I just be a goddamn person!"

The body of Feliciano Veneziano Vargas, a thirteen year old resident, was found today. He had multiple stab wounds as well as two scratch marks on his right arm. There seemed to be missing contents from the resident's wallet. Officers have secured the crime scene for further investigation.

"I can't replace him!"

"I'm not asking you to, I just think you could be more like how he wa-"

Lovino grinds his teeth, feverishly wiping away his stinging tears.

"He's not here!"

"But he's-!"

"He's dead!"

He screams it.