I feel Spamano needs more horror stories that aren't overly sappy, so I wrote this. I had this planned out since about chapter 12 of Sound Life, so to me it really isn't much of a new fic.

As for warnings... This fic will be very graphic in terms of adult themes, images of gore, and other concepts that wouldn't be too appropriate for children.

There will also be multiple pairings in this story, but the main focus will be Spamano. There will be slight onesided Spain x Italy, Fr x Sp, FrUk, UsUk, etc.

As for the plot, I don't think its nearly as complicated as S.L. You just have to pay attention.

And I do not own Hetalia. :C

For the first official day of summer, it just sucked... more than usual for the habitually blithe Spaniard.

It all began earlier that day.

He was stuck in a meeting with certain individuals he really didn't want to see for another few months. Nobody wanted to be there, not even Ludwig, who seemed to thrive on such mundane topics or any situation where he would be regarded as the leader, yet they all suffered though the hellish boredom, each finding their own way to entertain themselves. Alfred obstinately refused to stop talking above anyone giving their presentation, somehow offending Arthur in the process, who began to spout out slurred insults that only a Briton could comprehend. Francis laughed at the fuming, bush-browed blond, earning a punch from the American in return. From there, more people joined in just for the sake of a good fight, arguing, yelling and throwing pens at each other, before Ludwig bellowed over the crowd and directed the meeting back to where it was supposed to be in the first place.

This was a normal occurrence.

Antonio usually kept to himself when it was someone's turn to present, even now as he blankly stared at the Canadian quietly giving his speech. It wasn't particularly exciting, but it also wasn't his choice to be there. While he would rather be back in Spain and flirting with the pretty girls there, he was stuck in America for the next month because his boss demanded that he stopped his lazy habits and actually worked for once. His superior just didn't understand how hard flirting and gardening really was. But in the end, Antonio never fought with his boss over such topics; if he came to these meetings, he would always see the love of his life.

Feliciano Vargas.

Yes, that stunning man who sat across the table from the Spaniard. Always smiling, always happy and giggling at the smallest things, it made Antonio's heart flutter every time they briefly made eye contact during some of the meetings. He loved everything about the Italian, from the way he dressed in such lively colours, to the clueless air that seemed to surround him and even that verbal tic he seemed to have. Feliciano was so cute, and loveable in every single way, making it hard for the Spaniard to think of anyone else who could be better. There probably wasn't.

Francis and Gilbert often teased the Iberian about his soft spot for the doe-eyed brunet, claiming that if they got married, they would be kicked out of their home for radiating so much sunshine and rainbows. That meant they were perfect for each other, right? And he didn't give way to any of Gil's warnings about the man, especially that his family was deeply connected with the mafia and bad things seemed to happen to the people he loved. That and he was already in a relationship.

Sweet little Feli couldn't possibly be a bad man, and Antonio had never seen him with another person. Gilbert was just trying to scare him, he was sure.

The Canadian, Matthew, if he recalled his name correctly, finished his presentation and proceeded to take his seat after a small thank you to the other members of the group. They applauded him, and then the next person stood to begin their speech; a tall Russian man who was known to have a love-hate relationship with Alfred. Such a childlike voice came from the massive male, easily luring anyone who didn't know him into a false sense of security but Antonio chose not to pay much attention to his speech.

Once again his attention was drawn to the Italian, who finally allowed his eyes to drift to Antonio; a sweet smile gently stretched his cherry lips, sending a shock through the Spaniard's heart, much like the fluttering of a chick's wings. It was a game the two played; every meeting, they would stare each other down but never talk afterwards; flirting from across the room under the noses of the others, or at least that was what Antonio wanted to think it as. In truth, it was usually nothing but smiles and grins.

Eventually, the group momentarily released for a restroom and snack break with each member filing out of the room one by one. After organizing his notes littered with tiny sketches of tomatoes and his cat, Antonio left the empty room, making sure to turn the light off and close the door behind him. He sighed, thinking of what he could have for a small snack as he strolled down the rather bland hallway, blankly staring at the cream walls and the little specks of white printed above the wooden panels reaching up to his waist. Some churros would be nice or even a plump tomato. Maybe both at the same time. Oh, yes... That would be perfect, and maybe he could even share two or three with that cute Italian.

Antonio hummed to himself at the thought, following the wall without really thinking of where he was going as he allowed his feet to go wherever they wanted. He passed a few people, automatically smiling and greeting even if they frowned at the sundrenched Spaniard or grumbled under their breath. It didn't matter if their day was bad. Eventually, something would come along and brighten it up.

Then, with how easily the world had been blurred in his mind, Antonio managed to run into someone, nearly knocking them over. He slightly panicked; overly worried that he hurt whoever he bumped into, so he scrambled to help them up, brushing off dust that may have collected onto the person all while repeating that he was sorry over and over.

"It's okay, I'm fine~" the person cooed in a sugary voice that sent a chill down Antonio's spine. He stared down, instantly losing himself on those caramel eyes; Feliciano... oh, god he bumped into Feliciano, and how he was so much more gorgeous up close, easily putting his appearance at a distance to shame. So absolutely stunning. "Oh~ It's you, Antonio!" Feliciano happily hummed once he realised who had nearly trampled him and wrapped his arms around the Spaniard, completely oblivious to how hard his heart was hammering behind his ribs.

"Y-Y-Yeah... it's me." He somehow managed to choke out through the nervous wads collecting in his throat and chest. An aroma drifted up into his nose, radiated from the man still hugging him, reminding him of pasta with a succulent wine and olives.

Feliciano pulled back, grinning like a child who just ate something delicious. "It's so good to finally talk to you! I alwa-" He continued to babble on and on, most of the words lost to the Spaniard sine the only thing he could concentrate on was the warmth in his hand; Feliciano was still holding it, swaying it back and forth in his grip, all while still smiling. It nearly took everything he had to not swoon over the man more than he already was; he was just too adorable and he wanted him to be his.

"Feli..." Antonio mumbled, feeling his heart flutter when chocolate eyes focused on him, batting those beautiful lashes at the man as he smiled. "I have something...to ask you."

The Italian's head tilted to the side, curiosity bubbling behind his irises. "Ve~ what is it?"

Harsh lumps were swallowed down as Antonio licked his lips, trying as hard as he could to dampen his suddenly dry mouth. He couldn't mess up now... not with him so close to his key of happiness. As such, he huffed, regaining the strength that coursed through his Spanish blood, fighting away the nervousness that earlier clogged his veins. "I really like you, Feliciano, and I-" Everything seemed to go downhill from there...

That was three hours ago.

Melodic twangs of a local band's lead guitarist twittered from the blown stock speakers of Antonio's rickety rental, sputtering static out of the warped mesh with each bump the tires clattered over. He tapped his finger against the thread bare leather of the steering-wheel in tune with the dips and rises of the bass, humming behind the slurred mumbles that flickered against his tongue and the back of his pearly white teeth. So glad, he was, finally making his drive to his small cottage nestled in the woods of Virginia.

Antonio sighed, thinking over how happily Feliciano rejected him, quickly informing him of his love for the blond German. It was just as Gilbert had said, and in all honesty, Antonio was ashamed that he didn't take his dear friend's warning to heart... all of this could've been avoided. Yet, the worst part about it had to be how easily Feliciano brushed him off, as if he had no idea how much Antonio liked him in the first place. What would he do? It felt like a hole had been ripped into his heart, slowly draining away what happiness he stored in the organ, but... he couldn't just give up. No. It would take some time to heal, but he'd hopefully get over the Italian once he met a lovely girl, or even a man that would be willing date him. Things would get better... they always did. If anything, Gil and Fran would come over in a few days to make him feel better the way that they always did.

'Friends with benefits'... heh. They weren't as bad as other people claimed them to be.

The headlights dully flickered, throwing shapes and light against the eerie foliage surrounding the dirt road. Antonio sighed and scratched his ankle with his opposite foot as something tickled at it; just his pants leg, no doubt. He sighed once more. What a day... oh what a day. It had been overly hot throughout the afternoon, and even now, with the sun nestled behind the western line of trees, he had to keep his car's ancient AC on high just to prevent his shirt from sticking to his back. Not to mention something kept tingling at his ankle, making him come dangerously close to slamming his breaks, probably knocking something loose in the beat-up auto in the process, and jumping out to rip off his pants. As lovely as it seemed, the thought of leather sticking to his sweat lathered thighs definably wasn't pleasing on his drained mind. All he wanted to do was to go home, tug off his shoes and pass out on his bed.

He already had enough disappointment for one day.

More of that American music strummed its way out of his terrible speakers, drowning him in the harsh, grating words of the English language and building up the longing for his natural tongue to grace his ears. Was it really too much to ask for some decent Spanish music on the few stations his radio picked up? All that ever seemed to play was that mariachi style when he craved something simpler and softer to the ears. He did have a few CD's in his bags under his bed, along with a decent player but it didn't help him in his long drive from the meetings to his home. At least he could listen to it when he got home, but it would have to wait until morning.

A dull, pulsating green illuminated the small space inside the rented vehicle, glimmering against the sweat beads gathering on the tips of the hairs lining his arms as the numbers flashed twelve. Antonio groaned, tapping one of his blunt nails against the analog clock's glass, only to have it completely burn out, leaving the interior of the car black, save for the persistent flash of a single, tiny red bulb on the top of the Spaniard's cellphone. Just peachy. Next time he was sent to one of these stupid meetings in America, he would pester Alfred until he could borrow one of the blond's many vehicles and he didn't care which one. Hell, he'd be happy with an old straight-shift if it meant he could get home without worrying for his personal safety.

But luck just wasn't on his side today; with a guttural roar, a metallic whine and one final boom, the engine met the end of its days, rolling the car to a stop only a few feet from a tiny wooden bridge that was barely wide enough for the run-down Ford...meaning that Antonio still had a good two miles before he could climb into his bed. Why did everything in America hate him?

Boling with more frustration than could possibly be good for his health, he slammed his head against the steering-wheel, pressing the patch of leather over his horn. It blared out into the darkness, echoing back against the trees as startled birds scrambled in every direction, chattering and squawking along the inky stars lining the heavens. He whined to no one in particular and blindly grasped for the door handle, cursing once it broke off of its hinges and clattered down into the floorboard. "Why does everything hate me?" Sighing, he reached out through the window, tugging on the outside handle to open the door; it swung out with a creak, forcing Antonio to stick out his foot in order to prevent it from coming back and smacking him in the face, although, by this point it couldn't put a dent in his already horrible day.

He grabbed his cellphone before stepping out of his car, groaning as his sweat drenched shirt peeled off of both the seat and his back. Now, he wished that he just took a plane back to his Spanish home and left whatever was locked away in his cottage. He didn't need any of it and he had plenty of clothes back in Spain. But did he do that? No; he decided to be the faithful friend that he was and remained in America, just because Francis and Gilbert asked him to, only to ditch him the moment the meeting ended. He hated always being such a nice, caring person, but there wasn't anything he could do about it. Besides, seeing the faces of people whose days he made was worth every single bit of the crap he got from people who took advantage of his hospitality.

After slamming the door shut with a grunt, Antonio glanced around the small dirt road surrounded by black fingered trees bristling with leaves and the beady eyes of nocturnal creatures. Nothing in particular caught his interest, but just for safety measures, he checked the magazine of the handgun he pulled from its holster neatly strapped around his waist and hummed in delight as the fully loaded cartridge clicked back into its place. It was a shame that he didn't bring a flashlight with him, but thankfully the moon was lazily drifting along the clouds, showering Antonio in her silver curtains of light. With one last glance at the pile of metal he was forced to call an automobile, he began his march towards his home, keeping his gun tightly clinched in his hand and his eyes constantly shifting from place to place.

At least it was a beautiful night, save for the humidity and heat, but he still couldn't help but to sigh. Rejection, freakishly high temperatures and a broken-down car... all in one day... Someone up high had a grudge against him, he just knew it. Maybe it was because he didn't go to church enough, or because he attracted to men and women, but it wasn't like he did anything too terribly wrong... well, in his own eyes anyway. It was just as his father said; he was a horrible Catholic. Perhaps his cottage wouldn't have anything against him and would remain relatively cool, alongside his nice and soft bed that was far too large for a single person. If anything, it kept him from rolling off of the side like he tended to do when he slept alone, otherwise he'd cuddle up to the person sharing his bed and not move an inch.

The forest continuously shuttered and whimpered out a sorrowful tune, and Antonio considered humming along to the tiny nocturnal animals scurrying back and forth, playing, fighting and doing whatever else they do during the night. Somehow, it soothed some of the pain in Antonio's mind and he would've been completely calm if it wasn't for that tingle constantly assaulting his ankle. It was so bothersome and annoying, like something squirming around under his sock. Yet, just as he considered reaching down to see what the hell it was, a shrill beeping screamed in his ear and his phone vibrated in his pocket. He fished it out, squinting at the bright flashes indicating he had a message.

With a single press of a button, the electronic mail opened, providing Antonio with a picture of what looked to be a crimson worm, maybe about the length of his middle finger, neatly laying in a glass container labelled 'Proto-Q'. It sat upon a desk littered with folders and papers titled 'Eugenics Inc' in fine, silver letters. Under the picture was a short message:

From: Alfred

Hey

lost my pet worm if either of you see it catch it in a jar and bring it back to me don't touch it! gets sick very easily

Artie Ludwig don't tell any1 about this especially that commie. :D

June 20, 10:38pm

A pet…worm? Was the man five? Antonio fought back the urge to laugh at the ridiculousness of it as he faintly wondered why the American would send the message to him of all people. He only mentioned Arthur and Ludwig in his text, so maybe he sent it to the Spaniard on accident. Well, that was his loss; should've checked who he was sending the message to. Antonio clicked the phone off, tucking it back into his pocket and continued his way back home.

Clouds slithered their way across the patches of sky that were visible between the trees' willowy fingers, marking what could possibly turn into a pleasant rain drenched night. While the humidity would increase, it would surely cool off with the droplets falling from the heavens, covering everything in a beautiful display of dew and perhaps some fog. It sounded very pleasant to Antonio's mind and forced a smile upon his depressed lips as he tramped his way down the road, keeping his ears open to the creatures watching him pass by.

He didn't know how many minutes later, but droplets of water eventually fell from the sky, spotting his clothing and hair with its cold water. It sent a chill through his body, yet for some reason… he couldn't see it as only a mere shudder that came with the feeling of icy water down a sweaty back. He didn't know if it had to do with the silly connection he seemed to have with the earth, which his abuela claimed came from his long bloodline of farmers, but he couldn't help but feel as if the planet was trying to warn him of something bad coming. And this wasn't the first time this happened. It happened when his sister married a man, only to find out years later that he was a drug-addict and was abusing her. Thankfully, she was able to escape the horrible man and found another that was much kinder and perfect for Antonio's little sister.

Maybe he was being paranoid, but he couldn't shake off that horrible feeling creeping up his back.

Either way, he couldn't afford to get sick with the possibility of Francis and Gilbert coming over along with any extra meetings that he would have to attend. So he broke into a sprint for his cottage, already spotting the small outdoor light he left on through the bars of trees blocking his way to a straight path towards his home.

Just a little further and I'll be- "Ah!" A sudden sharp pain bit at his right ankle, sending his leg into a spasm before it locked up on him, refusing to move and forcing him to tumble towards the soggy earth. Mud clung to his shirt and pants, staining his skin an even darker color of tan and collecting in his hair. The sky laughed at him in the form of thunder, spitting at him with the rain tumbling from the heavens as it snapped its fingers of lightning, mocking the Spaniard. He was covered in so much gunk, and the sky rumbled again, sending whatever was coiled against his ankle into a frenzy, thrashing and squirming around over the mouth of his shoe.

Antonio flipped over to his back, not caring anymore that one of his best shirts and dress pants had been ruined by the mud, entirely brought on by that thing that was fucking with his leg, and it irradiated him more than bush-brows saying that a common English tramp was better than any Spaniard. With furrowed brows, he ripped off his shoe and then his sock. At first he saw nothing around his ankle, of course the darkness nor the rain helped, but through the droplets of rain splattering on the muddy ground, something moved. No... Something wiggled closer to the Spaniard, much like a tiny snake in water. It was small and thin, whatever it was, perhaps a worm or even a thick cotton string that was moving due to Antonio's over imaginative mind, and he could've easily passed it off as that, if it wasn't for another loud boom from the skies above. The thing squirmed in the muck, seemingly making a fretful…well, dash to Antonio's heel, feeling somewhat slimy from the mud that it trailed onto his flesh as it slithered up onto the arch of his foot.

It coiled up on his skin, educing a small frown on Antonio's lips. Well this was strange. It was as if the thunder frightened the little…worm-snake creature, and it was seeking Antonio for protection. Something about it, as strange as it sounded, tugged at his heart and although it annoyed him just about the entire drive home, he couldn't help but to feel bad for the tiny thing; it had to be afraid of anything that made loud noises. Call it his overly kind heart, or his love for animals, no matter what they were, he felt the need to take care of the creature, at least until it stopped raining. It didn't seem to want to be in the downpour, with how it twitched every time water was splashed on it.

God, he had to be going crazy.

Antonio unbuttoned one of his breast pockets before reaching down to the creature, offering it two of his fingers to see if it would curl around them, and, much to his delight, it lifted what he assumed was its head, slithering its way up into his palm. He squinted, still finding it much too dark to see any clear details of the tiny thing. What a shame; off into his pocket it went, squirming around a bit until Antonio tenderly cooed to it. Heh. Here he thought Alfred was childish for having a pet worm and there he was, taking one home because it didn't want to be in the storm. Well, as long as no one found out, everything would be okay.

After he tugged his shoe and sock back on, Antonio rose to his feet, straightening out his shirt and back as he attempted to rid himself of as much gunk as he could, but it was a futile attempt. His clothes remained stained with brown blotches and it refused to come out of his hair. A shower was called for, but first, he needed to get back home and put the petite creature in a secure location.

He followed what was left of the road leading past his cozy little cottage, thinking of where he could put the worm-thing. An empty jar seemed to be his best bet, but maybe even a sock would do since the little fella seemed content in Antonio's pocket…then again, he didn't want to blindly dig around to catch it, accidently squishing it between his fingers; knowing how he had a bleeding heart for tiny creatures, he'd probably cry all night. Fishing his keys out of his pants pocket, he unlocked the door, prying it open with a soft whine under the drone of the ever hardening rain.

Antonio went straight into his kitchen once the front door was shut and relocked, flipping the switch to the single bulb in the small room. Light glimmered off of the polished wood of his counter and the metal of his stove, smiling at him as he rummaged through the shelves for any kind of jar that was empty and clean. The thread-like creature twitched in his pocket after every clank he made, eventually forcing the Spaniard to quietly hum to it to calm it down. It was strange… how the worm thing could so easily be comforted, much like a small child, and Antonio wondered just what exactly was tucked away in his pocket. He probably should've just left it outside.

Ah, but then he'd be worrying about it all night. He was just too kind.

Eventually, he found a nicely sized container that was high enough so the little creature wouldn't slip out as he took a shower, after all, he still wanted to get a good look at it before he released it back outside. That overwhelming curiosity would be the death of him. He just knew it. Unscrewing the top, Antonio turned to the kitchen island and placed the jar on its center before he carefully slipped his fingers into his breast pocket. Almost immediately, the worm thing curled around his finger, allowing him to gently lift it from the small compartment of cloth and he held it to his eyes, carefully looking over its appearance. Well… it was still covered in mud so he really couldn't make out any fine details save for the beady black dots that may have served as its eyes… meaning this probably wasn't a worm. Whatever it was, he would have to figure out later; the dirt and filth was starting to harden on his skin, making it very uncomfortable to move. Not to mention, he had a layer of sweat under that said mud.

"Alright, little fella." Antonio cooed to the still unidentified creature, slowly lowering it to the lip of the jar. "You need to go in here until I finish my shower." It apparently had another idea; just as its tail touched the cold glass of the container, it flinched, desperately trying to slither up his arm and away from the jug. "Oh no you don't." Quickly, and quite carefully, he pinched his fingers around its tail, watching it writhe in the air as he gingerly lowered slipped it into the glass chamber. And… to be honest, he couldn't help but to feel a painful jolt through his heart at how the tiny thing seemed to panic when it was at the bottom, frantically trying to get back up only to find that it couldn't climb the sides and escape. "Hey, hey… It'll be alright." The creature paused at his hum, turning its head to face the Spaniard. He offered it a calm smile, brushing his fingers along the cold sides of the glass. "I'll be right back. Nothing will hurt you."

It blinked at him, staring only a moment before coiling its body up in the center of the jar with its head resting atop what Antonio guessed to be his tail, giving the Spaniard the impression that it was telling him to hurry up. Ah… he had to be going crazy. There wasn't any possible way that the tiny creature could be impatient. So bizarre… Arthur must've slipped something in his drink… that had to be it.

And when he came back into the room after his shower, clothed in his fresh pajamas that were only wet because of his dripping hair, he saw that the small thing hadn't budged. A smile crossed Antonio's lips. "See." He cooed out, picking up and angling the jar so the worm thing could slither out onto his palm, "It wasn't that long, was it?" Beetle-black eyes stared up at him, blinking before lightly shaking its head, still covered with the now dry dirt. "Let's get you cleaned up~" With one hand, he tore off a paper towel and turned his faucet, allowing some of the parchment to become damp but not too terribly wet.

"Alrighty, then… just be still~" He ran the wet corner of the paper towel down the sides of the creature, quite impressed and intrigued that it didn't move as he gently wiped away the grim, allowing him to see a beautiful sheen of pinkish-red once it was cleaned up. It was nearly translucent on its underbelly, especially on the parts that weren't laying on anything in particular, and, for some odd reason, Antonio swore that it looked to be overjoyed about being clean once more. He threw the towel away, easily making his way back over to the chair in the center of the room.

Now, he could finally take a closer look at all of the tiny details on what seemed to be a miniature snake. So thin… and small. It honestly resembled a threadsnake, but that couldn't be right… he was sure that they didn't live in the united states, especially in Virginia. So where did he pick this little guy up? And, when he took a closer look, he couldn't see any scales down its hide. While it looked to be slimy, when he ran his finger across its flesh, it felt like warm velvet, not smooth snakeskin that was chilly to the touch. Strange. So very strange. It couldn't be that worm that Alfred lost either… it wasn't the same colour, length nor did the worm in the picture have eyes.

"Just what are you, little guy?" He whispered to the creature, smiling as it curled around his finger and nestled its tiny head on his nail. Maybe... he would keep this adorable snake-like thing; it seemed to like the Spaniard and every roll of thunder that shook the home, it would clinch around his digit as if it truly wanted him to protect it. Not to mention he was so damn curious about where it came from and what it was. It seemed harmless, so it wouldn't hurt anything if he watched over it, right?

"Hmm. So what should I call you, Mr. Um... worm-snake?" The tiny creature turned its head to face the Spanish man, blinking at him before slithering down into his palm, keeping its head raised up towards the ceiling. Ah~ it was just so cute, whatever the hell it was. He couldn't help but to gingerly scratch at what could be called its chin, sweetly cooing to it. "Tomate. That's it, and oh you're just so cute~" The creature twitched, and the next thing Antonio knew was that it had sunk its fangs into his finger, biting down on the digit as hard as it could. But... threadsnakes didn't have mouths that could open that wide... oh...everything was getting fuzzy. Why was the room swirling?

Antonio slid out of his chair, collapsing on the floor as a slimy chill ran over his body, biting at his flesh with painful tingles and a sudden cold sweat. He couldn't move, and his breath became laboured as they forced themselves out of his lips. Black and white peppered his sight, building up behind his eyes as a throbbing pain that echoed in his ears, draining out the low droning of rain pattering against the ceiling. And the last thing that passed by his blurred vision was the snake creature slithering by, pausing only to send a final glance at the Spaniard before his mind went blank.

Oh how his head pulsated when he regained consciousness in the morning, nearly blinded by the sunlight seeping in through his curtains. Antonio sat up as soon as he had the strength, rubbing at the back of his sore scalp as he stared down at the finger that had been bitten the night before. Sure, at first he thought it was a dream, but when he saw the two tiny punctures on his finger, lightly swollen and red, he knew it wasn't. So what happened to Mr. Tomate? He wasn't crushed by the fall, otherwise Antonio would see its remains smeared on the floor and somewhere on his body. It must've slithered off somewhere during the night... hopefully not too far though.

Antonio managed to stand on his own after a few minutes, but chose to remain still for a few more. Why did Mr. Tomate bite him? Did it really understand that he had called it cute and didn't like it? No, that couldn't be. It was just a worm-thing. There wasn't any possible way that it could understand everything that the Spaniard said. Maybe it was scared... yes... that had to be it. Animals attack when they are scared, right?

But standing around didn't find Mr. Tomate any faster.

Antonio hobbled his way over into the living room, spotting nothing different at first... that is, until the sound of raspy breaths met his ear. Someone was in his home, and they weren't doing a very good job at hiding their presence. He immediately followed the noise, slowly making his way across the room. It seemed to be originating from behind his couch, and inch by inch, it grew loud- wait... was that a foot? A-And a bare leg? Antonio moved closer to the person and his heart clinched at the sight before him, once he got a clear view that is.

It was a man... slightly curled up into a ball with his mouth wide open, allowing his harsh breaths to flow freely from his shell-pink lips. Thin brows furrowed over clinched eyes on that handsome face, and Antonio couldn't stop his eyes from trailing down his tanned skin, following the angled curves of what could be called a runner's body. He felt horrible for ogling at this strange man, even more so when he realized that he greatly resembled Feliciano... all the way from the soft cheekbones resting high on his face down to the wayward curl sticking out from his dark chocolate hair, which was matted down with some sort of liquid, much like what surrounded his naked body. He was just a bit... well, masculine compared to the sweet-hearted brunet.

Oh... oh what should he do? The man obviously looked sick, with the way he was wheezing through crackling breaths and the sharp twitches that jerked his form, but he was also invading Antonio's home. Yet... the door was shut and unharmed, still locked too. He should call for help... yes, that's right... but his cell didn't have service in his cottage, and the man was blocking him from the only house phone he had. He would have to wake the man up then. Maybe he could even see if he was okay.

Yet, as he crouched down to tap at the man's foot, those once closed eyes snapped open, instantly locking onto the Spaniard and before he could react, Antonio was pinned down by the strange man. Harsh, almost insect-like clicks vibrated in his throat, much like someone smacking metal spoons against a wooden surface in a room that had an echo. The man dug his nails into Antonio's shoulders, bearing his teeth under scowling amber eyes. An ooze dripped off of his body, splattering on the Spaniard's face if it managed to drop off like water, otherwise, it remained connected between the two as a clear line catching the rays of sunlight like small droplets on a spiderweb. It smelled...like blood and sweat.

He couldn't move... something paralyzed him under the man's weight, whether it be his appearance resembling that of a certain Italian or those eyes of such a strange yet beautiful hue, he didn't know. All he could do was to open his mouth and allow his breath to leave his body in that manner. The intruder's head twitched uncontrollably, as if only that body part was having a violent seizure, though his fingers continuously gripped and loosened on Antonio's shoulders as if they were playing a strange song on a piano.

The man suddenly shifted his grip from Antonio's shoulders to his jaw, forcing it to open as far as it could possibly stretch without popping it out of socket, and he still couldn't do anything about it. Why... he had no possible answer. Something was forcing him it remain under the brunet, even as he lowered his head down, gently pressing an open mouth against the Spaniard's. He should be moving... not letting this man do whatever he wanted to with his body, struggling as the man slightly turned his head to the side and breathed into his mouth. It was vile; nauseatingly sweet and bitter, mixed with something he could only describe as rotting fruit, easily forcing bile to bubble dangerously in his throat.

And then... something touched his teeth. It was painfully hot, whatever it was...slimy... and much, much too big to be the intruder's tongue. Blood and rot, it was all that he could taste as the foreign object slithered into his mouth, squirming and choking the poor Spaniard as it made its way down to the back of his throat. He was forced to swallow it, easily feeling it squirm down his esophagus and into his stomach, twitching uncontrollably to the point where it was painful.

What was this... this thing holding him down? It wasn't a man... no... no human could produce whatever the hell was now writhing in his stomach, and god... as he pulled away... slime still connected their mouths in thick silver strings and the taste of death lingered on his lips and tongue, matching the awful pain stabbing at his gut and spine.

And... as his strength finally returned to him, he threw the intruder off of his body and made a mad dash to the nearest toilet. That thing, oh it needed to be out of his system, yet, as he stuck his fingers down his throat and vomited out a disgusting mixture of green bile and slime, he saw nothing else in the porcelain's water except more repulsive fluid. He stared in disbelief, not bothering to wipe off his mouth as he slipped down to his rear, pressing most of his weight against the side of his tub. It... It had already latched onto the inside of his stomach.

And there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it.

I plan on rotating updates on this story between this and Whiskers, so expect an update on this every other week. I really don't expect this to get much attention, but hey, I write for my own enjoyment rather than bend to the will of a Fandom.

And if you're curious to know what the worm thing looked like, just go to google and type in threadsnake. It will be one of the red/pink ones. I find them to be adorable.

Anyway, Reviews are much loved and they always brighten my day.

Till next time,

Self-Titled Demo