The Tale of the Tomato Princeling

Football!AU

Rating: T

Characters: South Italy/Lovino Romano Vargas, Spain/Antonio Fernandez Carriedo, France/Francis Bonnefoy, Cameroon/Patrick Samba, Cote d'Ivoire/Mireille Drogba (OC), LH Argentina/Martín Hernández, LH Chile/Manuel Gonzales, LH Uruguay/Sebastián Artigas

Pairings: Chile/Argentina

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia. Thank goodness Hidekazu Himaruya encourages us to play with his creations!

Notes:

Hello and sorry for my long hiatus - here is an extra long chapter for you! Thank you to furrfurr2001 for your beta work!

Also, thank you for all the support and reviews! I'm happy to know that you guys are rooting for lil' Lovino.

I couldn't write a football AU Hetalia fic without including Latin America and Africa. That would be sacrilegious.

Speaking of sacrilege, no, I didn't forget Brazil, he's not in Madrid because he's going through the youth system in his own country.

The brief characterizations of Cameroon and Ivory Coast are mostly OC. Cameroon has barely appeared and Ivory Coast is not a Hetalia character (unless I missed him/her?). Latin American characters are of course, borrowed from the Latin Hetalia community (with the exception of Antonio's brief mentions of his younger sister - Mexico) - thanks to LH for making such amazing characters!

Also, in the past I avoided using random Spanish words in the middle of a sentence mostly because it didn't make sense to me to have to do that if they're all supposed to be speaking Spanish. However, it did start to feel unnatural to keep translating out things like 'Princeling' and 'Little Tomato' when it's so much easier and more natural in Spanish - Principito and Tomatito respectively. From now on, I'm cheating like that. Do forgive me.

Chapter Five

"Did you know my Tomatito, that once upon a time, no one in Europe ate tomatoes! Can you imagine? Think of everything you eat now with tomatoes as ingredients, and think of what they would taste like if tomatoes did not exist! Thanks to Mexico and the Spanish conquistadors, tomatoes made the long journey over the Atlantic Ocean to arrive back here and guess who was the first country other than Spain to fall in love with the tomato?" The gleeful stare that Antonio fixed on Lovino made the answer rather obvious, but Lovino knew that this was the point. Since Antonio became his tutor on all his lessons, the teenager had learned quickly that if he could not tie a lesson to something that naturally interested Lovino, he would be ignored all day.

Lovino let out a sigh, and looked forlornly out the window. Outside the sun was shining, even though he knew that the temperature had dropped. Today, just as with every other day, strangers outside walked about, focused on whatever occupied them. He rarely saw children his own age, but he figured that they were stuck with homework as well, having finished at school. Lovino took solace in the fact that somewhere out there, other kids his age were also mostly trapped on a chair, staring onto a flat piece of paper on a textbook while some unfortunate older person tried very very hard to capture their attention.

"Well Principito?" Antonio prodded, looking somewhat concerned that he had lost his only student somewhere again. "Would you like to wager a guess?"

"Lovino shrugged, still stubbornly looking at the window. "I don't know bastard, that all depends...what are we betting on?"

Behind him, he could hear Antonio letting out a breath, either of exasperation or amusement, Lovino had no idea, and he did not care. He just wanted to go outside. He missed the days when he spent most the week running, having the ball as his friend, jealously guarding it from others and fighting to get it back when they took it. He also missed the initial freedom that all his mother's revelations had brought.

After that rather dramatic end to the summer, Lovino was amazed to find that life actually did get better. His mother was more relaxed and smiled more often. As a result, they worried less about each other. With the truth being broached, it was almost like floodgates opened for Lovino and everything he had felt and experienced over the last summer came spilling out. He sometimes wondered if his mother became annoyed at him for making so much noise whenever she was home, but if anything, despite her clear weariness, she loved his sudden talkativeness. She was content to listen, smile at him adoringly and giggle at occasional points. However, she listened but never told the rest of her story. Her work hours did not seem to change, and neither did their circumstances. And so, Lovino found he often sat at home again with nothing to do but stare at the dull walls and resist her expectation that he do his homework.

It was only Antonio unfailingly showing up every afternoon after his own school session, which prevented Lovino from escaping onto the streets again to discover something new.

"Well...we're almost done with this history chapter about Spain and Latin America. In fact, if we focus for the next hour and a half, we could just stop here and finish early, AND I'll have time to take you out today like I meant to." Antonio offered.

"That caught Lovino's attention. They could go out? He whipped his head around and glared at a rather smug looking Antonio. "Bastard. You had better mean it! And we better be going somewhere good."

Antonio leaned back in his chair, smiled and shrugged nonchalantly, knowing that he had won. "I promise you!" He declared, hand on heart. "When have our field trips ever disappointed Romano? I'll take you to a place that I know you'll enjoy. But we have to finish on time, or we won't have the chance to see everything, and you have to promise me that you'll only go there when I can be with you."

"What?!" Lovino shot back. "What kind of a deal is that?! You've got everything! How am I supposed to know I'll actually enjoy this place? And why do you have to be with me all the damn time!"

Antonio's smile disappeared and he raised his hands defensively. "Hold on Romano! I'm sorry alright, I really am, but in order to be able to be here, I made a few promises to your mother, you know that."

Lovino shot up and stomped over to the window in a huff. Yes, he knew about Antonio's promises. At the time he had felt grateful to the older boy that he was willing to take on such a burden in his life just to be Lovino's friend. Now he found himself wishing that Antonio could have fought harder, even harder than he already did.

It was sometimes difficult to connect that serious teenager standing his ground against his mother with the mostly laughing and oblivious fool of a tutor who turned up everyday, but Antonio it seemed, never made sense or did things halfway.

Antonio had won some concessions - Lovino was no longer to be locked in, but Antonio had to accompany him if he went out, which meant that he was still stuck at home when Antonio was in school. Since Antonio tended to have to tutor him as well, that meant more hours sacrificed from 'outside' time and they often never went out at all, except to museums or other lesson related places. On top of that, Antonio tutored Lovino in the Spanish curriculum, leaving his weekends to his mother to fill up what she called their 'cultural time' so he would not forget Italy. They both seemed desperate to teach him as much as possible. One of the fights they had was that Lovino was apparently behind other children his age when it came to textbook knowledge. All this pressure to learn, learn and learn some more in the most static way possible almost drove him crazy. He felt hopeless at everything, and often refused to bother with it.

Language days would stay the same, and here Lovino had been mad at Antonio for weeks, because now that he was comfortable speaking Italian, Spanish and English, his lessons would focus more on writing and composition. While the Italian portion relied a lot on his mother, Antonio took the opportunity to learn the basics of the language, but it was never enough to seriously help Lovino. Antonio however, had managed to convince his mother to allow a pen-pal arrangement with Mary for English, as long as she sent the letters to Antonio's address. Lovino actually hated that too, since he was sure that Mary had better things to do than to read the grammatically terrible and simple scrawlings of a child.

Lovino's letters to Mary were always embarrassing for him, but she was certainly easier to understand in writing, and always encouraging. It was always a challenge, figuring out what she wrote back to him, because she wrote differently from the way she spoke. The effect of her writing on him was strong with how much they revealed. When he did decipher her words, he learned a lot about Scotland, and British fairy tales, which she used to describe hiking trips out into the woods. He felt like he was seeing these places and things she described, rather than just reading them.

It turned out that after the funeral, Mary and Arthur found solace through camping for the rest of their break. Somehow, being disconnected from civilization, media and especially well-meaning, sympathetic, but unwelcome people made them closer to themselves, the very nature of the lands they came from, and by extension, each other and their late father.

"I hope that one day, you'll be able to spend some time in the quiet and solitude that only nature can provide to you. When you find that the world is too contradictory, unnecessarily complicated and too damned full of noise, get out there. It's only there that you can really learn to fall back in love with yourself through the very soul of your country, your body and voiceless silence. It is only with these that you can hear the ancient rocks in the mountains call to you, or let the flow of a wild river soothe you, and allow the whisper of green leaves and grass to encourage the growth of your own wisdom. I'm sure you think I'm crazy Bambino, but a little crazy is always good. Sometimes, when everyone else thinks you're crazy, you're the only one that's actually making any sense."

She was right, these words made no sense to him, but because of how unexpectedly serious it sounded, they stayed with him. He was a little surprised that she and Arthur went into the woods together. Even though she never wrote anything about it directly, Lovino got the sense that Mary's relationship with her brother was extraordinarily complicated and not always good, perhaps as much as he would imagine Antonio's relationship was with his half-siblings. It made him wonder about the reality of having a sibling, rather than what he occasionally imagined it could be.

Other than such rare and almost philosophical insights, she wrote that Arthur achieved his wish and earned his way into a youth system. Since he was not sixteen, he was not signed onto any contracts yet, but it was only a matter of time. He was doing well in Manchester United, which apparently meant something because Antonio gave a cynical smirk at the news before shrugging and saying "Good for him I guess."

She had also started up a band and with every new letter, it seemed that the name changed. Pity, he was fond of the original name: The Left Hand of Darkness...even if it was rather long and hardly made any sense to him. It just sounded like a song title, and was very Mary.

Speaking of music, that was the subject he actually enjoyed, in the midst of everything else. Antonio took it upon himself to teach Lovino music, dance and the guitar. He actually found that he enjoyed music, and it was surprisingly technical, but that and dancing allowed him to move his body and give him a sense of freedom. However, it could not replace what he really missed - football.

His mother was adamant that Antonio was not allowed to speak about professional football to Lovino, or even think about taking him to a game or talent scout. Of course Lovino could not be kept wholly ignorant. He lived in Madrid, the home city to three major teams and a slew of other minor ones. Its most popular team of course, was Real Madrid. Even without a TV, computer, smartphone or a tablet, he was going outside now with more comfort and frequency. The Real Madrid crest was everywhere, not counting the game days when it felt like almost everyone in the city dressed in white, black and blue. On those days, there was no going out at all, and Antonio was not allowed to visit. Antonio fought the hardest to have his mother grudgingly accept that her son could play ball informally in public areas, but only with Antonio nearby, and they had to come home right after. If anyone approached them about Lovino getting formal training, the answer would always be no.

Other than that, Antonio won the battle for a cheap laptop in the apartment 'for purely educational purposes' but only as long as it was never connected to the internet. Lovino hated the damn thing. He felt like it was mocking him, sitting there with that stupid keyboard he still couldn't use properly and that didn't even know the alphabet! If that wasn't enough there was that ever present learning expected of him sitting that bright screen. Most heatedly, Antonio felt that he won the argument for Lovino to start school under the name Romano Fernandez by the next school year. This meant that Lovino had a little less than a year, including summer, to get ready. The thought made his palms sweaty and he refused to accept that he was nervous, but what was he supposed to do? Lovino never had friends his age, or had to deal with structured days, and why did he have to learn Spanish history, Spanish language or go to school in Spain?! What was stopping them from changing their name and returning to Italy?

"What is she so afraid of anyway?" Lovino muttered to the window. It wasn't soft enough because he heard Antonio sigh in response.

"I tried to find out for you Roma, but she refused to give me any clue. She said the less I knew the better, and safer. But come on, I'm not bad company am I, Tomatito?!" He smiled.

Lovino rolled his eyes as he looked back. "Do you really wanna hear the honest answer to that bastard?"

Antonio only laughed merrily in response. "Seriously Roma," he eventually responded. "We finish this history chapter today and spend the rest of our time out. What do you say?"

Lovino walked back to slump in his chair. "Italy." He said.

"Huh?"

"You asked me which other country went crazy for tomatoes dumbass. Italy."

Antonio relaxed, turning back to tutoring. "Very good my Tomatito! Now let's look at this map..."

Two hours later and Lovino was getting used to the chilly air, wrapped up in his jacket, gloves and other clothes that Antonio had pulled out after rummaging through the closet. Curiously, Antonio also tossed a fresh set of clothes into a bag before they headed off. It was November, and it was winter in Madrid. Antonio told him that some some parts in the north of Spain were high in the mountains and experienced more snow and freezing temperatures, but Lovino had never known winters outside of Madrid or his old home in Rome, so this was plenty cold for him. He was almost jogging along at Antonio's side, trying to keep up with the longer stride. It was a miracle that Antonio never crashed into anything considering that he was focused on his phone, furiously tapping on the screen with his fingers as he led Lovino to the bus and finally the metro to...wherever it was they were going.

"I still don't believe this game of yours exists! It's too crazy!" Lovino yelled over the clanking noise of the crowd. Lovino hated the metro, but Antonio insisted on making him take it so he could become familiar with crowds. Lovino was certain he would ever grow to like being in the middle of so many people. They scared him, and he had to swat greedy hands away from Antonio's pockets more than once, earning a glare from the supposed thief. As a former pickpocket himself, he knew what to look out for. Too bad the stupid teenager never noticed how often Lovino saved his wallet. On top of having to concentrate on their safety, Antonio insisted on distracting him with an unlikely story about an impossible ancient game. If this sport were real, it made every other look like it was made for wusses.

"Haha! It's not my game! It's Meso-American, and it was indeed crazy my Tomato. That's why it was so popular! I took real skill to knock a four kilo ball off your hip into a tiny ring hanging above you! Imagine the frenzy you'd feel inside, how ecstatic and blessed, if you managed to do that! I mean, we already love it when we score a goal by just kicking a ball into this huge net, even if it is protected by one guy."

Lovino looked up skeptically from where he stood, squished next to Antonio. "More like luck, IF anyone were crazy enough to play that game." Well, badass was the true word to describe an athlete who was capable of doing that on purpose, repeatedly, or maybe an iron-man.

"Well Romano," Antonio smiled hopefully. "I think you'll realize one day that people are capable of the craziest things if they're dedicated enough." He ruffled Lovino's hair only to have his hand smacked away. "Especially you Tomatito!"

Lovino frowned and looked around him, hoping that by being angry and strong enough, it could chase away the anxiousness and fear that was rapidly trying to pump its way through his chest. "Where are we going today? You know the squares are full in the evening."

Antonio only winked in response before the train slowed and he chirped "This is our stop!"

It was a popular stop, because a crowd of people surged out even as many more tried to surge in. Lovino clung to Antonio (swearing to himself he would deny that forever), afraid of getting separated from him and lost in the crowd. Antonio reached out and kept a firm grip on Lovino's shoulder, so Lovino looked down, hiding his red face, ashamed at how weak he was that he relied so much on Antonio. The older boy's grip gave Lovino such a comfortable sense of security against the threat of so many people - it was embarrassing.

Lovino only looked up when he sensed they were back outside in the crisp and chilly air again. Going into the center of Madrid never ceased to amaze him. The first time Antonio took him out to see one of the many museums, his jaw had dropped. It was almost impossible to believe that they were in the same city. Until then he knew Madrid to be filled with dull, square apartment blocks, but here...here he could understand why Antonio felt such love and pride for his country. Madrid's architecture was grand, elegant, old and he felt that those buildings stared down smugly at the millions of people still living, breathing and never sleeping on its streets. This was a city that was proud of its age and history, built to showcase once lavish glory. Its wide streets and squares, populated by beautiful statues commemorating different aspects of Spain's history had finally made Lovino realize just how old this city was. In some ways, it struck him as familiar. Based on the pictures Antonio had found of Rome to show him, Lovino simply knew that the city of his own birth must stand with the same pride, and it made him long to stand in Rome's squares, gaze upon those buildings instead and remake all his blurry memories of his home for new and clear ones.

Taking a quick look around, Lovino noted that it was early evening and waited. When he stilled, Madrid lit up - lights illuminated the front facades of buildings, people seemed to move with more energy and Antonio...Antonio looked truly alive. It was not yet dark, and with the lights bouncing off his tanned skin, the combined effect of the odd transition of the day made him appear to glow. He seemed taller, prouder, green eyes flashing in barely controlled excitement, that edge to his smile now almost dangerous. Antonio was on fire, great, warm, and frighteningly overwhelming. Lovino felt warm standing next to him, observing how passerby's also seemed drawn to Antonio's presence, and wondering at that careless charisma. It was amazing, and confusing all at once, never making sense to Lovino, how Antonio lit up like a flame whenever he stood in the centre of his city.

Suddenly, those green eyes met his hazel ones, widening with concern. "Do I have a stain Tomatito? Is that why you're staring at me?" He asked, breaking the spell.

"What?!" Lovino yelled, suddenly red faced and panicked. He looked away. He wasn't staring at Antonio, no way! "You have a stain on the side of your mouth idiot!" He lied so fervently that he believed it true. "Grow up and fucking wipe your face properly the next time you eat! Now clean up! Stop being a baby and tell me exactly where we're going and what we're doing here!"

Antonio took a moment to rub quizzically around his mouth with his hands before answering. "We need to get to the Plaza Mayor. I booked it, so they should be finished setting up by now."

Plaza Mayor? Lovino groaned. Just what he needed - more crowds. "I hate going to Plaza Mayor Antonio! It's goddamed crowded and full of fucking tourists! And what do you mean you booked it? Booked what?! You can't reserve a plaza!" Lovino yelled, confused. Was it possible to do that? Antonio never seemed bound by any rules.

The older boy only laughed in response. "It's November Principito. Most the tourists are at the beaches and further south where it's warm. Come on and see!" He dragged Lovino along and they half jogged to the famous plaza.

Once they left the entrance to the metro, the crowd had thinned out and he could see what Antonio meant. While center Madrid was still lively, it was a far cry from their journeys out here during spring. When they reached the Plaza, Antonio looked around before smiling triumphantly and led Lovino to a relatively cleared part of the square where a group of men were setting up some machine on a platform that looked like it could rise up to a good height. What was this?

Antonio went to greet one of the men by the black van and Lovino read the words written on its side:

'FC247 - Anytime, Anywhere'

What? The fuck was this?

"Hey Romano we're early!" Antonio called, interrupting Lovino from his thoughts. "But that's fine. I actually did that on purpose to see the look on your face when they turn it on."

Irritated again, Lovino answered. "Turn what on bastard?" Antonio only smiled and held what looked like a pair of ridiculously bright sneakers.

"Help me out and try these on would you? I noticed your feet have grown bigger since last summer.

Embarassed again, this time Lovino didn't bother to hide his flush. "Did you buy me shoes again bastardo? You don't have to!" Not to mention, these were bright yellow and ugly. He thought Antonio would know his tastes by now.

"Not yet." Antonio laughed. "We can't keep these, but we need them for tonight. See if they fit?"

They did, and once they were on his feet they didn't look so gaudy. In fact, despite the older architecture that surrounded them, the soft shoes seemed to fit in with the trendy lights and overall atmosphere of the evening. They read 'Nike Football' on their side, even though they lacked cleats. "Are we..." Lovino frowned, confused. "Going to play football here?" All the evidence seemed to point to it. "How?"

All he received in response was a wink, so there was no choice but to wait until something happened. In the meanwhile, Lovino explored his corner of the plaza, where people were observing the men raise the machine and its platform. They also looked anticipatory, smiling knowingly, in on some secret that Lovino did not know. Many raised cameras and phones, so he quickly ducked his head and turned away. If Antonio hadn't given him shoes, he would have been convinced that this was some stage setup and Antonio had decided to give an impromptu performance. Antonio had done that before with just his guitar and gained quite a following. But now, Lovino was nervous, there was just too much attention on him and he was not supposed to draw anyone's attention.

He ran up to Antonio and tried to use him to hide from the crowd. "Hey Antonio, it's still...crowded...and they're all looking at us. I don't like it."

It was only then that something seemed to dawn on Antonio because his face went from obliviously cheerful to nervous as well. That did nothing to make Lovino feel better.

"Don't worry Romano." Antonio reasoned. "You're one out of many faces here, and when everyone else arrives, no one's really going to pay attention to you alone. We're just going to have fun."

Lovino rubbed his face in frustration, how stupid could Antonio be?! "Who the hell else is coming?! I'm not exactly supposed to have friends!"

"That's not true Romano!" Antonio responded sternly. "No one can deny you the right to have friends, not even your Mama. And the deal was not that you couldn't have friends! It's simply that no one is allowed to know why you're here or where you live. I mean...let's face it, even I don't know why you're in Spain, but you know what?" Suddenly cheerful again, Antonio ambushed him with a surprise hug. "We're making the best of it! Now I get to show the Principito the best parts of my city! And I know he's impressed, even though he likes to pretend that he isn't."

"How many times do I need to tell you idiot! Stop treating me like I'm fucking two years old! I'm almost ten!" Lovino squeaked, hoping no one was really paying attention to them. Come on, how long was Antonio going to do this? He suddenly had an unwelcome image in his mind of being a smooth adult, talking to a pretty bella, just to have Antonio swoop in from behind and toss him in the air like a baby. 'Oh God,' he thought. 'Please no...just...no.'

But Antonio ignored his protests, as usual and instead spoke seriously. "They won't notice you specifically Roma. Kids play all the time, people watch and they move on. Besides, it's too cold to stand still. It'll be alright. I won't let anyone harm you."

Lovino had a tough time believing Antonio. They were late in the season to be playing outside, even he knew that. But what did he know about the habits of Spanish kids? He decided to trust Antonio this time, but first, "Never again bastard." He muttered.

"What?"

"Don't try to surprise me ever again. I just...I don't like secrets okay? If you told me earlier you were taking me out to play, I'd have probably been okay, but this is like...like I didn't have a choice."

Antonio, ever stupid or brilliant Antonio, let that sink in. Sure, Lovino knew that there was no way the older boy could know that his mother did the same thing once, and that led to being locked up for years, but...Lovino hated feeling this out of control. It reminded him of things like how weak he still was, how vulnerable.

Still a little confused, but solemn, Antonio nodded and this time, gave a serious hug. "I'm sorry Romano. I promise I'll ask next time okay? You get to make the decisions, but" And Lovino could hear the smile in his tone now, "I get to try to convince you sometimes if I disagree."

Lovino didn't pull away, but he also couldn't smile back. "Never again. You've promised."

Before Antonio could respond, a loud voice cut through the moment and Antonio stiffened slightly.

"Damn Boludo! When I heard you've been babysitting a little brother I didn't believe it! I said... 'hey! there's no way that stone-hearted bastard has it in him!' But I guess even I can be wrong!"

Lovino broke the hug, embarrassed, and turned to observe the newcomers suspiciously. The speaker with the odd Spanish was a blonde haired, green-eyed boy with a smug grin that he immediately disliked, but not out of spite more like...competition. Behind the older blonde came a tall and skinny brown haired boy with serious dark eyes.

Without warning, the tall boy smacked the blonde on the back of the head. "Don't be such an asshole Martín!" He admonished in an exasperated tone before addressing Antonio in a somewhat suspicious tone. "Hello Antonio. It's been a while. In fact, this is a surprise. We haven't seen or heard from you in more than a year. What do you want?"

Martín let out a low whistle. "You're telling me not to be an ass Manuel? I've been influencing you...clearly."

Behind them, Lovino observed a third, even younger boy who looked a lot like Martín. Blonde, also green-eyed but more solemn and wearing glasses. This younger boy was around the same age as Lovino himself. He immediately felt nervous, because he had never spent time with anyone his own age. To cover his fear, Lovino scowled at the other boy, but received nothing but an observant stare.

Before anything could be said, there was a commotion in the crowd as they 'oohed' and took flashing pictures. Curious, Lovino turned to look at what was causing the commotion. His jaw dropped.

There was a laser lit football field in front of them...a fucking laser lit football field! How awesome was that?!

The men were busy setting up small goal nets on both sides of the field. Much smaller than the real thing, which was the width Gilbert had insisted on practicing with over the summer. These would be easier to defend and harder to score into. But that was secondary, what really awed him was all the lights, how they reflected off his shoes, the faces of the smiling crowd, off the blonde hair of their new companions, and of course, the lights all around the city. He felt alive, and inside he felt the familiar thumping of his heart, the building adrenaline and anticipation. They were going to play. He looked at the newcomers again, this time casting a critical eye over them as competitors.

They eyed the laser pitch with equal hunger. Actually that was wrong, they seemed more intense, especially the other young boy, still unnamed. He was simply starving to play. Whatever calm and solemn demeanor he had when he arrived completely disappeared. Lovino fought the urge to take a step back, fought the instinct to be intimidated as he observed them more closely. They were outwardly relaxed, but their gazes not only observed the length of the laser pitch, but also drew out to gauge the crowd. Martín observed the lights, which made Lovino do the same, trying to figure out what the smug looking boy was doing. It dawned on him suddenly, ridiculous but understandable all at once - Martín was looking at the lights because he wanted to look good while he played, not just as a player, but also as a guy who was aware of his good looks and was proud of it.

Before he could think any more on what he observed, a very familiar and very unwelcome voice greeted them.

"'Alo my dear friends!" Francis latched himself on Antonio with a very familiar hug which was a little too...gropey. Lovino was torn between fleeing Francis' perverted looking interpretation of friendship or staying to protect Antonio, who was so stupid in this case that he could never protect himself. "It has been too long! Where is Romano? I haven't seen the little bambino for months!"

That did it. Stomping into Francis' sight and shaking his fist, Lovino yelled. "I'm not little you perverted French bastard! Ack no! Don't come near me!" But Francis oddly, just stared at him, smile turning into curious amazement. He released Antonio and took a step closer, just as Lovino took a step back. He'd managed to avoid letting Francis put his hands on him all summer and he was not about to break that streak now.

"Ah, sorry Romano. Of course you're not little anymore! But you will always be the Little Prince of our hearts. It's just...look at you! You've grown so much!" Francis smiled, and it looked genuine to Lovino, so he relaxed a little. It seemed that Francis truly was happy to see him.

"We're playing with two children?" Damnit, just when he had just cleared that up. Lovino observed the two newcomers who came with Francis, a boy and a girl. Both were dark skinned, the girl's face was long with elegant features, and her hair was neatly tied back in rows of thinly braided pleats. She smiled at him kindly, while the boy next to her was tall as well, and serious in appearance. He was the one who had just asked the question, with an accent almost similar to Francis'. Even though the question seemed asked out of concern, Lovino still felt offended.

The younger blonde boy spoke up, scoffing. "Well yes, you should be careful with the kid," he indicated Lovino with a proud toss of the head. "But I can hold my own."

What a cunt! Lovino tried to jump the fucking kid but Antonio took a firm hold of Lovino before anything else could happen. "Let me the fuck go!" He yelled at Antonio. And to the obnoxious kid, "And you! Who the fuck do you think you are?!"

The two older teenagers who came with the kid for the most part seemed amused, and only slightly worried. Fucking idiots all of them. Antonio meanwhile could see the trouble brewing.

"Martín!" He hissed loudly, struggling to hold back Lovino. "You said Sebastián was shy and bookish!"

The older blonde spread his hands helplessly with a look of defensiveness on his face. "And YOU didn't tell me we were going to play football! Communication Antonio! Communication is key! If you did, I'd have told you that he kinda goes through a personality change and get's really competitive when he plays!"

"Why ELSE would I call you?!"

"Oh damn I dunno? Maybe to hang out over some hot drinks? To chat? To catch up after so long? This may surprise you Antonio, but even we have lives outside of football!"

"ENOUGH!" The big boy who had arrived with Francis moved between the two bickering parties. "We can play football, that's not a problem!" He declared in French-accented English. "We just need to be careful not to injure the boys. This isn't like playing on a field, the ground here is hard and it is dark. There's no need to fight!"

Lovino disagreed, he had just been personally insulted - that was plenty of reason to fight. He would save it for the game, he'd thrash this smug bastard of a child for all it was worth. He tugged himself out of Antonio's grip and glared at Sebastián.

"And who are you?" Martín asked the lecturing boy with a dangerous smile while crossing his arms over his chest.

"My dear friends!" Francis flowed between them somehow, almost like water. "Let's start again shall we? We came to meet new people, share in the love of a common interest, and be merry! Clearly this was all a misunderstanding. Very common when sports are in play! Our egos do become just a little more sensitive, do they not? Martín, it has been too long, I do love this hairstyle, it suits you, and you are as stylish as ever. I personally, cannot wait to see how you play now. Since you asked, these are my dear classmates and friends. Our slightly stern man here is Patrick Samba, from Cameroon, and the beautiful lady here is Mireille Drogba, of the Ivory Coast."

Sebastián's mouth dropped in awe. "Drogba?! Ivory Coast?! Are you related to...Didier Drogba? He's...he's one of my heroes!"

Mireille laughed warmly and charmed, coming over to shake Sebastián's hand. "Oh no! Drogba is a common surname in my country. But we already have something in common little one, he's one of my heroes as well."

Lovino looked up at Antonio in confusion and desperate nerves. Who was this Didier Drogba? Where on earth were Cameroon and the Ivory Coast? He was hating Antonio's surprise more and more with each passing moment. There was just too much - too many people, too many risks for discovery and the stress of having to hide how little he knew about the world.

Antonio it seemed, was finally realizing how much of a bad idea this was. He jumped in to save Lovino from having to talk. "Hey, Patrick, Mireille! Happy you could all make it. This is Martín Hernandez, and Manuel Gonzales. We used to hang out when I was still in the system. Manuel and I were in the same year, he's from Chile. Martín was a year under us, from Argentina, and the youngest is his cousin Sebastián Artigas from Uruguay. In fact...Sebastián, you came just last year, after I left. Hello! Nice to meet you!"

As Antonio greeted Sebastián with a warm smile and the customary kisses on each cheek, Lovino could not help the hopeless, jealous rage that sprung up inside of him. What the fuck was this 'system' business they were talking about? And why was this affecting him so strongly? Antonio had plenty of friends of course, he was a social and popular guy, but none of those friends were children. Also, Lovino was the one who received the most attention, whether he personally welcomed it or not. This other stupid kid had already challenged him on the pitch, charmed the bella first, was apparently bookish so he'd probably happily sit in a goddamned room and read books with fucker Antonio all day, so of course now he was getting Antonio's undivided attention. Well fuck them all, and Antonio too. Lovino turned and started running before he could feel worse. He was going to wipe the floor with Sebastián, at least ten times, and then everyone would forget how much he didn't know.

"Are we fucking going to play now or what?!" He yelled, and impatiently waited for the rest to follow. Patrick and Mireille looked taken aback and offended, but Lovino didn't care at the moment. The others conferred briefly, dividing the teams and in the end it looked like Lovino was on the same team as that bastard Antonio, and Manuel as a goalie with Mireille as a fellow attacker. Francis, Martín, Sebastián and Patrick would make up the other team and they briefly came together to confer while Antonio walked over, reaching out a hand, looking worried.

Lovino swatted the hand away, hard. "Fuck off Bastard!" He snarled.

"Wha...Romano! Why are you so...?"

"Stay the fuck out of my way! Why aren't you playing with your friends? With your new favorite kid?"

Antonio looked genuinely confused, "But Romano...I am playing with my favorite kid. Are you still angry with me? Look I'm really sorry that I brought you out here without telling you, and that I've brought you to a place where you feel so...uncomfortable. I feel really bad Romano, I really do! Do you want me to take you home?"

"I'm not going home until I wipe the floor with that kid's face!" Romano snarled.

Antonio now looked taken aback, and his expression had a cast of annoyance to it as well. He took Lovino's arm into a firm grip and pulled him closer. "Roma, I'm sorry and I mean it, but this won't be the first or last time in your life that someone's going to be a bit of an ass to you, it gets much worse you know. Believe me, you can't just lose it every time like this. You'll regret it. Trust me. Now why don't we just try to play a good game of ball and have some fun okay?"

Lovino pulled himself out of the older boy's grip and ran to the center of the field, where he fumed as he waited for his opponent...who looked like he was having a similar conversation with his older cousin and Chilean friend. Finally pushing his cousin away, Sebastián stomped over to meet Lovino in the center of the laser lit field. Lovino consciously ignored the obviously disapproving French nattering going on around them, as well as the exasperated but resigned looks of the native Spanish speaking party. All that mattered was teaching this kid from Uruguay a lesson about respect. They stood there glaring at each other until finally, they realized that the game was in play - the damned teenagers decided to ignore the kids standing in the middle of the field for kickoff and played around them instead.

"WHAT THE FUCK?!" Lovino screamed in protest, but everyone ignored him, including Sebastián, who tore after the ball. Shaking his head, Lovino tried to focus and give support to Mireille, who was up against Sebastián, Patrick and Martín all at once, but she was ignoring him, instead intent on Antonio, whose face was showing unnatural determination - where did that come from?

Martín stole the ball easily, weaving around Mireille, and Lovino as if they were still statues, but Antonio blocked his way. Instead, Martín he kicked a powerful attempt at goal, which Manuel easily caught. Manuel smirked at his friend, then he waited for Mireille and Lovino to run back out, then tossed the ball to Antonio instead.

Martín and Sebastián ran up, harrying Antonio, but he kicked the ball back to Manuel to frustrate their opponents. However, Lovino had enough of being ignored as well. When he saw Mireille running up and Manuel preparing to kick the ball to her, Lovino sprinted instead, jumped, caught the ball on his chest, landed on his feet and started dribbling as fast as he could down the short field, where Patrick defended and Francis looked just too relaxed at goal. Lovino suddenly realized he was grinning, this was just too easy.

Until of course, it wasn't, because Sebastián ran up from behind him and stole the ball before he could even blink.

"The fuck?" Lovino muttered to himself. And ran back, determined not to lose (the fact that no one had scored yet hardly mattered to him), and Sebastián instead back-heeled the ball over to his cousin who gently side-swept the ball into a corner of the small net that Manuel somehow managed to leave open.

There were some cheers from the crowd and disjointed clapping but now Lovino was livid. "It's a goddamned net that's smaller than I am and you can't even defend that?!" He yelled. For his part, Manuel had the grace to blush, frustrated at himself, but he was ignoring Lovino. It was Martín instead who ran up in front of Lovino, hands on his hips with an angry glare.

"Lay off kid. You're pushing my patience as is."

Antonio ran up next to them. "No, you back off." He threatened, before switching back to a more pleasant tone and expression. "Can't we just play and enjoy a game? This ought to be a break for you guys, trust me it's good for the soul to just enjoy the game rather than...treat it as a fight. Also, since this is just for fun, how about we try to include our French-speaking friends a little? Francis looks way too comfortable over there."

As Martín looked over at a somewhat annoyed looking Mireille, Patrick, and a very relaxed Francis who was posing over the short goal net like this was some photoshoot, he had the grace to look slightly sheepish. With a firm nod, he turned back to speak to Manuel.

Suddenly, the rage that Lovino had been feeling stopped hitting him quite so hard in his head. He was still angry, and his adrenaline was still making him tremble in the fingertips, but now it felt like time slowed down and he focused his mind instead. Antonio was speaking to him but he was ignoring him, Manuel and Martín were having some kind of intense conversation, heads together, while Sebastián looked on at them, worried. Mireille and Patrick were conversing in French, and Francis really was posing for photographs because there were some crazy people in the crowd taking pictures of him. He turned back to observe the three South Americans and something clicked. These guys were not going to treat this game like friendly excuse to meet up like the crowd over the summer. It was almost personal with them. With echoes in his mind about native iron-men South Americans playing an impossible Meso-American ball-game he decided that maybe racing around head first into a game wouldn't work for him the way it had before. Not against opponents who were clearly stronger and better than him. Lovino swallowed the bitter taste in his mouth and decided he needed more time to think.

When they started playing again, Lovino simply ran and observed instead. When the ball came his way, he would dribble it for a while, but pass to Mireille before things got too heated. Eventually it seemed that the opposing side was focusing more on her than Lovino.

It was a much more even game now, except that Sebastián was still behaving like this was a life or death competition. However, it seemed that between Martín playing less intensely and everyone else having adjusted to the speed and style of the two blondes, there was more 'fun' to be had. Not for Lovino though, he was studying his opponent, and he did not need a sprint to score off Francis to prove it.

Patrick was a fast runner and physically strong player, his kicks were intimidating with their power, which was probably the real reason why he was so concerned about the two boys. Mireille was agile and surprised everyone with her excellent long distance aim. She could make attempts at goal on her own side of the field if she so wished, and because Francis was not a goalkeeper by anyone's imagination, she scored. Even after he reluctantly started to take the game somewhat seriously and ignore his new fans, the damage was already done - she had scored 3 points.

As for Manuel, he started defending his little net with frightening intensity. Lovino felt that Gilbert was much better, but it was difficult to judge after a short time. Manuel certainly had the harder job than Francis, having to defend a goal against Martín, and actually was putting in the effort. There was no use denying the fact that Martín was the best of them all, and he was the one who was controlling the pace and difficulty of the game.

What surprised Lovino the most however, was not even his new rival. It was Antonio. The stupid, carefree defender who would often let a ball fly by over the past summer if he was distracted by a damned butterfly, was now almost a freakishly focused...octopus? He used his long limbs and height to his best advantage, easily turning and twisting with any attackers who got too close to the goal. There was always a very present frown on his face that Lovino decided he didn't like, because Antonio should never have to frown so much, not when he was doing well at something.

As for Sebastián? He was fast and ruthless, not hesitating at getting underfoot to force the bigger kids to stop their own play out of fear of hurting him, while he desperately tried to score. Lovino decided to press, seeing what would happen once Sebastián remembered who he was supposed to be fighting against. He ran up, shadowing his prey, and when Antonio ran over to defend, Sebastián lifted his leg over the ball to tap it with his back heel as usual, over to his cousin. This time though, it was already too late because Lovino had already escaped with the ball, kicking it over to Mireille, who was hindered by Patrick. She side kicked back to Lovino, who in a few short steps was behind the big defender and shot the ball right in between Francis' legs, before he had a chance to move. Lovino smiled to himself, floor wipe one.

But now that his rival remembered, him, it was harder. Now, they had a better idea of each others' skills, and were less careless. Never-the-less, right at the 19th minute, before futsal half-time, Sebastián managed to score in the upper corner of the net with an excellent cross, putting the score at 4-3. Thanks to Mireille's long-range shots, Francis' carelessness, Martín's chivalry and Manuel's strong goalkeeping, Lovino's team was actually winning. He was not entirely satisfied with that. While he was excited, he was also scared.

This so-called innocent match had already been more intense than anything he had ever played, and they had Antonio's friends to thank for that. Francis, Patrick and Mireille would not have been out of place in the summer group (Patrick and Mireille would have given Mary a challenge), but Martín was in a league all on his own - he made everything look so effortless. Martín's body was amazingly fluid and precise, while it was clear that his mind maintained an incredible awareness of the ball, the players, field, and overall game. Worse, it was not even clear how much Martín was holding back with them out of politeness, but Lovino imagined he must be bored. Maybe Arthur could have run head to head with the Argentine, or maybe not. It was impossible to know because he knew that Arthur held back as well when he had seen him play. It was telling and frustrating as well to Lovino that Antonio was not too bad himself. After a whole summer of playing like an average idiot who kicked around for fun, and telling Lovino that he was good enough to aim to play for Italy, it turned out that the Spaniard simply never took him seriously enough to play so intensely against him. The best he had ever seen Antonio play was that first day he humiliated the older boy, but that was nothing compared to what he was seeing today.

"Hey Roma..." Speak of the devil.

Lovino turned away brusquely. "I still don't wanna talk to you." He muttered, but again there was no heat to it. Now that they had stopped running, he could feel the adrenaline starting to leave and with it his strength. He had lost the endurance he gained over the summer, and despite this smaller laser court, the play was no less intense.

"But you still have to drink water, whether you talk to me or not." Antonio countered reasonably with a smile. Well, the air was dryer now that it was winter. Lovino grabbed the water bottle and drank greedily. Wiping his mouth with his arm, he raised an eyebrow at Antonio.

"What the fuck are you on today?" Lovino demanded in frustration. "You used to let balls through for fucking butterflies. You've been telling me all summer how good I am but you've been joking around the whole time!"

"What? No! You are good! Roma, don't get discouraged by those three." He looked like he wanted to say more but stopped. That little act was more damaging than anything else he had done that day, so Lovino went back to the laser lit field and looked out at the crowd, coming and going, old and young.

Some looked wealthy, others looked careless enough to freely offer their wallets, and some looked like they did not even have a place to shelter them on a winter's night, but all had decided to pause their lives to watch a couple of kids play football. It was not the players, Lovino decided, after all, the crowd had gathered without knowing who any of them were. It was the game itself that drew everyone in, and any fame each of them managed to earn was secondary unless they were exceptional. He thought back to what Antonio had taught him about the old Meso-American ball game, and decided that it wasn't even about the impossibility of a heavy stone ball making it through a tiny hoop. It was about...pawning competitiveness onto someone else. Someone out there was rooting for his team to win so that they could feel a little victory in their life without having to do the hard work themselves. In fact, from the eyes that followed him, some of them were even rooting for him. Others out there were rooting for Sebastián, probably because of the simple duality that two children facing off against each other brought. And maybe it was something as simple as the fact that one was fair haired and fair skinned, while the other was tanned and darker. There was something else important that ought to follow that realization but he could not think of it.

"What are you thinking about so seriously there little one?"

Lovino turned around quickly and backed away, but Francis was oddly, kind enough to keep out of touching distance for a change. He was content to simply observe Lovino so closely that it still hardly seemed to feel different.

"Stop staring at me like that it's creepy!"

Francis only chuckled and shrugged. Where Antonio was oblivious to Lovino's discomfort until it was obvious, Francis simply brushed it off, as if Lovino would eventually realize that the Frenchman was right all along. "Well Romano, I haven't seen you for a few months. I'm absorbing how much you've grown and what's changed. Antonio has certainly changed. As for you, I suppose I'm struck by how much you remind me of my rather adorable little cousin. He's been through so much, and there's so much going on in that cute little head of his, but he won't share it. No, he hides it behind a sweet smile. It's almost the same with you I think, except you hide behind a scowl. Ah well, a smile, a scowl, what is the difference between these masks at the end of the day? Those thoughts will boil up sooner or later, until you children understand that there are always friends around you who are willing to listen. In fact, I find sometimes that the world would be a much happier place without secrets, don't you?"

Lovino stared at Francis in shock for a moment, before running back to the game. There was still a second half to go, and surely Francis was just being a strange philosopher as usual. He refused to believe that Antonio would have told Francis anything. Not after all his promises and giving up so much of his time. Besides, if Francis knew, there would be no way life would be so quiet. The French boy was not exactly a star player when it came to football, but he and Veronique were the ones who would make ideas into reality and more. They were the ones who had organized the games over the summer, who had apparently called everyone to make sure they remembered to bring their share of the goods. No, if Francis knew about anything, he would have done something by now...whatever that was. Lovino breathed a sigh of relief.

Two green eyes behind a glare caught on glasses suddenly appeared before him. "Don't look so smug. On a normal day none of you would have a chance." Sebastián sneered.

Lovino scowled right back. "What the fuck is your problem bastard? I guess your parents took one look at you after you were born and wished you were him instead." He snarled, tossing his head in Martín's direction. "That's why you keep running in his shadow."

When Sebastián's face immediately went from smug to sad, and then broken for just a second before turning to rage, Lovino could not help but smile. He had guessed right on those buttons. Then, Sebastián let out a loud cry and jumped at him. Terrified, Lovino put his arms up just as the ground knocked the breath out of his lungs. The blonde boy rained punches down on his face, chest and shoulders and it hurt but Lovino reached through the blows, grabbed Sebastián's face and managed to push the other boy off. Lovino was so angry now, and suddenly all the trapped frustration he had been holding in for months came to the fore and he attacked Sebastián with equal fury. How dare this kid take away the one thing he was good at in his life by being better? How dare this kid not appreciate how easy his life was compared to his? He could walk outside, play a game and even had a fucking family to call his own. He knew where the other countries in the world were and never had to feel stupid or inadequate. He-

"ROMANO STOP!" Lovino was forcefully yanked backwards, Antonio's enraged yell still ringing in his ears.

"He started it!" Lovino yelled back, flailing at Sebastián. "That fucking cunt started it!"

Sebastián was being held by his cousin, who was looking at him with exasperation. "How many times have I told you Sebastián?" He scolded. "One more fight, I swear to God! One more fight and you are on the next flight back to Montevideo, I don't have time for this! Do you think this is any way to represent your home? Or our family?!"

"Like you have the right to talk!" Sebastián screeched back. The cousins started fighting verbally in earnest, and Antonio forcefully took Lovino to the side.

From the corner of his eyes he could see the disappointed crowd moving off, disappearing, and the men turning the lasers off and dismantling the field. The game was over. Lovino glared at Antonio. "He started it. You know he did. You were there in the beginning when he started acting like a smug bastard for no reason, he started it again just now and he was the one to fucking attack me first!"

But Antonio was having none of it. "He was posturing in the beginning Romano. That's what players do before a game to try to intimidate their opponents. He was also posturing at half time. Of course he shouldn't have done it because it's rude, and he especially shouldn't have done it because this was supposed to be a fun game; but it happens. And he shouldn't have hit you. You had a right to defend yourself...but Romano...I know he only attacked after you said something to him. What did you say?"

Lovino stared back at Antonio in shock. After all that, Antonio was going to say that this was his fault?! A sharp pain started to sear in his chest at this betrayal, and to his horror, he knew, the beginning of tears. "You know what bastard? Fuck you! You take me here against my will. You make me play with a bunch of strangers I don't know, you embarrass the hell out of me and now you're taking his side. Go to his side then, I'm going home, I know the way! Don't bother following me or coming back!"

He turned to run as fast as he could, using his smaller size to his advantage, ducking around people in the milling crowd, while Antonio had to try his best not to hit anyone. At least that's what he hoped. The last thing he wanted was for all those stupid teenagers to see him cry, and especially not that other kid, oh God not when he was being compared to someone else and was obviously losing. Dear God, was this really going to be what the rest of his life would look like?

"Romano!..." Antonio's voice called desperately into the crowd, and Lovino realized that if he was going to be successful, he would have to go back to those days when he first escaped his home...and pretend to not be in a hurry. He ducked a sharp left around a corner, and walked into the first shop as nonchalantly as he could. It was only when he noticed other people peeling their jackets off that he realized he was actually cold, sweaty and Antonio had his jacket and dry set of clothes. He also had tears which left cold tracks down his cheeks.

"Fuck." He snarled to himself, hastily wiping his cheeks and drawing attention from nearby shoppers. He realized that he had found some kind of tourist shop- full of useless keychains, stuffed toys and ridiculous t-shirts. Still, they did have sweaters, maybe he could pinch one? As he stared at all the plainly ugly sweatshirts with 'Madrid' happily printed in bold across them, Lovino realized that he could never wear anything so tacky. In fact, he could only think of one person who could - Antonio, who was so proud of his city, he would even wear ugly clothes for it if it came down to it. Antonio, who once got so worried about Lovino that he spent two days stopping at every bus stop and physically checking with every person he saw just to find out where one kid could have disappeared to in a city as large as Madrid.

Finally, Lovino sighed and found a comfortable corner to lean against. Antonio would find him eventually, hopefully sooner rather than later, or he would call his mother and that would make an even worse mess. It was pathetic, really, how much he relied on Antonio. Besides, it was not as if he wasn't trying to be a better kid. He was trying to learn, it was just a lot to cover. Sure, maybe that was his fault for ignoring all the work his mother gave him before but still. Football used to be the only thing he was good at, it was the only reason why Antonio had looked at him twice, but even that was not true anymore.

A soft voice that Lovino didn't recognize interrupted his thoughts. "There you are...I'm sorry. Really." Confused, Lovino looked up to see...

"YOU!"

Despite Lovino's loud bark, he found himself backing up a few steps, wary of another attack. But where before, Sebastián had looked cocky, now the act had been stripped away. He seemed a much gentler boy, a little refined even, and genuinely sad. Standing close behind him was not his cousin, but Manuel, who was casting a critical eye over them both.

"I uh..." Sebastián struggled to continue. "I get annoyed at my cousin sometimes too, and I just run off from him. He does it to me as well, he'll just ignore me for days, especially after I start a fight. I really am sorry. It's just that when it comes to sports, it's kind of the thing I'm the best at, and I get a little crazy over it because I think that if I don't win...everyone will...forget me."

Manuel turned sharply to Sebastián, surprised. He gave a low whistle. "My God, Sebastián. That won't happen! How could you possibly think that? And your cousin cares. He's got a funny way of showing it but he does. All of us, your family. Me as well. Look, I know it seems like a big deal now, but at the end of the day, this is just a game. You're going to have a life beyond it. We all will. Don't let those coaches and other kids get to you."

But Sebastián looked disbelieving.

"Look," Manuel continued. "I know its hard because Martín seems to grab attention wherever he goes, and it feels like you're being compared to him. But even Martín has his own insecurities okay?"

Sebastián shrugged, but he held a hand out to Lovino. "Look, I understand if you're mad, but can we start over? I never meant to actually hit you, you just hit the right buttons."

Lovino was still scowling, but there was a distant corner of his heart that decided it could relate a little to this boy. With an entire family and more friends to look after him though, he didn't realize how lucky he was. But at least Antonio was not consciously a flashy attention seeker, and at least at the end of it, Lovino finally realized that even if he sucked at football, at least he'd have his Mama at the end of it. Without a word, he took Sebastián's hand for a quick shake, then retreated and crossed his arms.

"Well," Manuel sighed. "That's settled. I'm calling Antonio. You can't go out there like this. I don't know what Antonio was thinking, playing in this weather, but I guess we were all crazy enough to go along with it."

Stepping away with his phone, Manuel left the two boys alone.

"So..." Sebastián started. "Are you Antonio's little brother?"

"None of your business."

"Okay...are you from Madrid?"

"No! I'm Italian!"

Sebastián's face lit up. "Really? That's cool. I have relatives in Naples. My great-grandpa was Italian. Same side of the family as Martín. Did you know that..."

And on and on, Sebastián chatted about his Italian heritage, while Lovino listened, strangely placated, and oddly happy to have even this possibility of a distant Italian friend. Some things sounded familiar, even though it was dated. Oddly, despite the earlier fight, Lovino wondered if they could actually get along. Maybe if he could get Sebastián to feel guilty enough about being an asshole, he could find a way to let the boy do his homework for him, and they could learn some football from each other.

"Romano! There you are!" Antonio rushed into the store, desperately holding Lovino's jacket. Lovino decided that he was now too damn tired to stay mad at Antonio. He was still out of breath from the game and running away anyway. Being angry took a lot of energy.

Antonio looked down a little sad and resigned before saying. "Principito, we need to have a talk." Lovino just shrugged in response. Antonio looked at the two boys and smiled slightly. "Well the good thing is that neither of you are particularly accurate when it comes to throwing punches."

"Small blessings indeed." Martín muttered, annoyed. He had showed up behind Antonio. "Well, maybe we can try this again once this has all blown over. But NOT a game. Everyone had also be better behaved. We can warm up cozy over maté or something. Antonio, your French buddies have gone home. If you're going to invite us out again, try to do it before another two years pass okay? For now, I think it's time to take Sebastián home."

Antonio nodded distractedly, his attention wholly absorbed by an oddly quiet Lovino. Once the three left and Lovino wore his jacket, Antonio asked. "Are you still mad at me?"

Lovino stared at a keychain, unresponsive.

"Hmm not talking to me I guess. That's even worse than you yelling at me. I really screwed up today didn't I? And I suppose I'm still overwhelming you just a bit? Ah...this is not the place to talk. Come on, the night is still young, and your Mama won't be home for a while yet. If it wasn't getting colder out, I'd take you to our field, but I think your home is the safer place to go. We can have a good talk before your Mama gets home okay? You can yell at me all you want, and tell me everything that's been bothering you again and again and repeat it too. Then we'll try to sort it out, and that way I guess I can stop doing stuff that I think is going to solve stuff that I don't really understand...that just makes things worse, and makes you uncomfortable and mad. Please help me fix this Tomatito?"

Then Antonio patiently waited for him with a calm smile, and Lovino swallowed hard because he could not believe he had just yelled at this ever-waiting friend to leave and never come back. Finally relaxing his scowl, he nodded and followed Antonio home.

That was such a difficult chapter to write, but here it is. Sorry for the delay, all of my projects went on hold for my original NanoWriMo one, but now that November is over, I'm back in fanfic business.

I also know that nation wise it doesn't make much sense for South Italy to be younger than Argentina, or for Mexico to be younger than Uruguay. More artistic flexibility. Heh.

Some things to note about this chapter:

1. Didier Drogba is a modern day football legend. Not only is he a fantastically skilled footballer, but he and the Ivory Coast's national team in 2005 played a very important role in ending their country's civil war (at the time, sadly, hostilities resumed in 2011). When I get upset at match fixing reports, unnecessary drama, human slavery over building the stadiums in Qatar and allegations of widespread corruption in FIFA, I rewatch this video of the Ivory Coast's team promoting national unity and asking for their country to lay down arms and hold elections (with the knowledge that it actually worked...for a while). To see the video, just search "Didier Drogba - Peace Maker" on Youtube. Moments like that are truly what makes the Beautiful Game beautiful, despite all the bureaucratic and marketing attempts to to ruin it.

2. Laser Football is totally a thing in Madrid...and only in Madrid. It's basically a very clever marketing gimmick by Nike. Basically you book the field from a phone app, a can drives out and sets up the machine to give you a free laser court. I'm exercising creative flexibility when I say that these guys can play in winter though.

3. A lot of what I wrote for Argentina, Chile and Uruguay was inspired by a book I've been reading - Golazo by Andreas Campomar. It's basically a book about the history of football in Latin America. Argentina was the first of the South American countries to establish professional football leagues, followed closely by Uruguay and Chile. Argentina and Chile have a close enough relationship that according to the book, where Argentina starts something, Chile follows soon after (but puts its own twist on it). Also yes, character wise, they're dating...look at them trying to be very incognito. Uruguay has an interesting history, having originally been a state in Argentina before it was annexed by the Empire of Brazil. After achieving independence, Uruguay has mostly distinguished itself through excellence in football, being the most literate country in Latin America, and having extremely liberal laws. There was a period where it was kind of a Switzerland in South America, but sadly that did not last long. Also, the first FIFA world cup was hosted in Montevideo (Uruguay's capitol). Any mistakes in facts or depictions are mine.

4. With this chapter I wanted to introduce a little of the ugly side of football and competitiveness...hence the anger and the angst. Also however, the sheer marketing machines that drives the sport and individual players who manage to make it big. I think that the boys who go into football camp with the dream of becoming a star has to also be very much aware of his own worth as a potential celebrity. Those who manage to take the best advantage of that, do extremely well.

5. I didn't say it outright, but where Antonio, Manuel and Martín met is fairly significant.