Confetti Rainfall

It's the boy's first day with the Carriedos, and he already knows it isn't going to last. He's been passed around from relative to relative…Ever since his grandfather died, there's really no place for him, and the little Italian knows it. Feliciano found a home easily. His stupid little brother is just so cute, charming, and obedient. Even when they were living together in Nonno's house it was always "Feliciano this" and "Feliciano that." The boy misses his brother, but he doesn't miss that part. At least now people finally talk about him- but they're not always good things. They're mostly complains about his dirty mouth, his refusal to do chores, his overall aggressive attitude…pretty much everything that's wrong with him. And for the boy, that feels like a lot. He just doesn't know how to fix it or why he should try.

"Llamame Tio," Mr. Carriedo says, but the child doesn't answer. He can't actually speak Spanish. He knows these people are related to him somehow, which is why he was dumped with them, but he's never met them before, and to be honest, he's a bit afraid. How long will they keep him around? Will they yell at him like his last family did? Will they hit him when he does something wrong?

Mr. Carriedo approaches him, and the boy flinches. He wants to hide, but there's nowhere to run to where he won't be found. This isn't his house. He doesn't know what's where yet. They'll find him wherever he goes, and then he'll be scolded for trying to run away. But running is the only thing people say he is good at. He has no time to run now anyway. His new foster father already has him in his big bear arms, and he's lifting the child off the ground as if he's made of paper and not the strong hefty nine-year-old mass that the Italian believes himself to be.

The boy yells and demands to be put down, struggling, but his angry Italian words go unheard and instead, he's hugged. The little Italian goes quiet and limp for a moment, surprised. He hasn't been hugged for a long time. Not since he bit the last person who tried. But the Carriedos are a hugging family, and after Mr. Carriedo's …"Tio's" turn is over, it's time for "Tia" to welcome him. She takes him in her arms and presses a kiss to his cheek. The boy's face turns bright red. Hugs might be a forgotten thing of the past, but kisses are ancient. The only one he can ever recall kissing him is his Nonno, and that was almost too long ago for him to remember clearly.

Unfortunately the color of his cheeks draws unwanted attention from both Carriedos, who must have eaten Happy for breakfast because now they're all smiles and fussing. They call him cute (the only word in Italian they know, the boy thinks) and poke his cheeks, which makes the child turn even redder.

"Tomate! Tomate!" they coo, and the child puffs his chest out indignantly before declaring his real name.

"Lovino! My name is Lovino, dammit!"

And the silence he's met with makes Lovino wish he had kept his mouth shut. Did they understand his swear word? The boy tightens his lips as if afraid it'll be purged by soap (again) and looks away. He wants to say sorry, but he doesn't know how. Why the hell was he sent all the way to Spain? He feels so stupid and unsure of himself, like the mentally impaired child they're treating him as now, as the couple continues to stare at him wordlessly.

Then the front door opens, and a new person comes into the entryway where they're standing. He's a tall, young man- fifteen years old and carrying a large schoolbag full of books. His parents greet him warmly, and the older boy smiles back in return. They seem to have forgotten Lovino's slip of tongue, and now their attention is all on the newcomer. Lovino gives him his best unimpressed face, but he's a little caught off-guard by just how green his new foster brother's eyes are, and his lip quirks in curiosity. What's this boy's name?

"Hola!" the stranger chirps (Lovino thinks he sounds like a bird and not the cool teenager he thought him to be at first. Now he's disappointed.) "Eres Lovino, si? Me llamo Antonio!"

Lovino hears the two names- one is his and one is not. This spacey-looking bastard must be called Antonio. A stupid name for a stupid face. But before he can tell Antonio just how stupid he thinks he is, the green-eyed boy proves that he belongs to this Hugging Family and embraces Lovino suddenly, causing the nine-year-old to emit an embarrassing cry.

"Chigiiii!"

Antonio and both his parents stare in surprise and then finally, laugh. Lovino kind of wants to cry, but the little boy is too proud to show tears in front of these strangers so quickly. His cheeks are hotter than ever, and he hides his face in his hands so it won't be poked again. Antonio gently takes his hands and pries them away from his face one finger at a time. Lovino curses him for being stronger than him.

"Leave me alone, bastard!"

He swats Antonio's hands away and looks at him angrily, but the older boy's smile never fades. He just looks so damn happy, and Lovino wonders how it can be possible for anyone to be that happy to see him. He crosses his arms and looks at Antonio with suspicion, but his foster brother seems to find this endearing somehow and takes the opportunity to hug Lovino again. The little Italian's arms are trapped between them, and he can't even get them free to push the older boy away. Antonio lifts him clear off the ground, like his bear of a father, and Lovino flails, kicking his legs and trying to get his arms out to hit.

"Put me down!"

"Ay, Lovi, eres tan lindo! Estoy muy emocionado que veniste a vivir con nosotros! Vamos a ser muy buenos amigos, no?"

And it doesn't take a genius to figure out that this boy is an oblivious idiot.

The first week brings the expected problems. Lovino can't speak or understand Spanish, so he throws tantrums often, frustrated by the lack of competency of his new family members. No,he will not eat that strange thing staring at him from his dinner plate. It has eyes, dammit! He's not going to stab food that's watching and waiting to be eaten. He pushes dinner away from him the first three nights in a row, barely touching anything he's given. The Carriedos try hard to figure out what the picky boy likes. Mr. Carriedo suggests just waiting until the boy gets hungry enough to accept anything, but even he knows that they're all too soft to starve the poor thing. And Lovino is a stubborn, stubborn boy. His pride is stronger than his hunger. Antonio can hear his stomach grumbling across the room that they now share, and finally, unable to ignore it, he sneaks down to the refrigerator to grab Lovino a snack while his parents sleep.

Lovino is having a bad dream. He's alone in the park, and no one's even looking for him. He thinks maybe it's a game, like hide-and-seek. He can't go home until he finds the person he belongs to, but there's no one there. It's like someone started the game and forgot they were playing. Lovino hates to play by himself. He runs around the park until he's out of breath and then, finally, goes to sit on the swing. He feels so miserable and lonely out here… He's swinging back and forth softly when he feels the first splash of rain on his face. The boy looks up and sees nothing but dark clouds over his head. Someone told him once that staying out in the rain would make him sick, but he doesn't remember who that someone was, so he doesn't listen to them. Instead, he keeps swinging, higher and higher, feeling that weird feeling swirl in his chest that he gets in dreams sometimes. It tells him that if he lets go, he can fly. Lovino takes a breath and holds back for a few more swings. He's worried about falling, but his craving for that freedom is hard to ignore, and he finally jumps from the swing. He hovers there for a moment, feeling completely weightless. The rain is still around him, but it's not touching him anymore. It's like he has a shield against it, and that makes him feel powerful. He's enjoying his time in the air, feeling like a king, when suddenly his imaginary bubble is popped and he plummets down again, further and further until he hits something hard.

"Fuck!" It's more a squeak than a swear, and Lovino groans on the floor next to his bed.

"Lovi! Lovi, estas bien?" a worried voice asks. The child glares at him through the darkness.

"Don't call me 'Lovi'! My name is Lovino, dammit! Lo-vi-no."

"No? No estás bien?"

"No! Why are you so stupid? Lovi-no! It's not that hard, moron."

But the idiot isn't listening. Instead, he's checking the Italian's head, smoothing his hand over the bump.

"Ow! That hurts, bastard!"

"Pobrecito. Ven, te ayudo a volver a la cama."

Lovino sputters more protests as he's lifted off the floor and tucked back into bed like a little child. He's not a baby, dammit! But Antonio is so gentle with him, tucking the blanket around his sides and pushing the hair back from his forehead.

"Tienes hambre, Lovi? Te traje un tomate."

Lovino frowns at him. It's that word that this family always calls him, but he's too tired to complain about it. Tired and hungry. His stomach growls in an answer to Antonio's question, and his foster brother smiles and shows him a tomato.

"Pomodoro," the Spaniard says, making Lovino's eyes go wide. He's completely caught off-guard. Is the bastard actually trying to speak Italian to him? "Pomodoro," Antonio repeats and rubs the smooth red fruit against Lovino's cheek.

"S-stop that, bastard!" Lovino demands, snatching the tomato out of his hand and holding it close to his chest protectively. "Don't just go rubbing me with a tomato! This is mine now, so I'm going to eat it!" He says no word of thanks; he just sinks his teeth into the juicy red flesh as if it's something he has conquered, not something he was given. Antonio seems pleased anyway, though and gives Lovino's hair a final ruffle before making his way back to his own bed. Lovino is only a little sad to see him go, but he can still hear his foster brother from across the room.

"Duerme rico, Lovi."

First day of homeschooling. The tutor Lovino's foster parents hired is fluent in Italian, but she won't speak it unless Lovino glares at her long enough or starts spacing out. And sometimes not even then. Her job is to get him to speak Spanish, a task at which all the Carriedos have failed so far. Lovino doesn't like all the changes around him. It was bad enough getting passed around from house to house, but now everyone's speaking differently too, and even though they don't yell at him or say anything cruel, he's still afraid of the words they speak because he doesn't understand them.

"Don't be afraid, Lovino. Just give it a try," the teacher coaxes in Italian.

The boy just crosses his arms and huffs. He's not afraid, dammit. Even though he hates making mistakes and gets frustrated easily when he's not sure what a word's meaning is, Lovino is just a stubborn boy, and he doesn't even want to make an attempt at speaking this awkward foreign tongue. The tutor tries to convince him that it's not much different from Italian, that he'll get the hang of it easily, but Lovino's still too embarrassed to risk messing up. What if someone laughs at him? The thought of trying only to end up as someone else's amusement doesn't appeal to him at all. So he keeps quiet and doesn't open his mouth even when his tutor tempts him with some candy, telling him he can have it if he asks for it in Spanish.

"Por favor. Just say por favor,Lovino."

Lovino just shakes his head and then ignores her. The candy just isn't worth it.

The Carriedos aren't sure what to do. Lovino still refuses to speak to them in Spanish, and there's nothing they can do to make him change his mind about it. No amount of persuasion or bribes will work. The boy either rejects them outright or makes such a sad face at being denied something for his failure to speak that his soft-hearted foster family members eventually give in and let him have it anyway. Antonio is the biggest pushover of all. Lovino doesn't even have to pout. His foster brother is always trying to do something to make him smile, though he rarely succeeds in doing so. It will only take one moment of Lovino slipping up, of falling out of his stubborn determination not to let Antonio do anything to amuse him, to convince the teen that what was done once can be done again. But that moment has yet to come.

It's a stormy day. The boys are stuck inside, which bothers Antonio more than it bothers Lovino. Usually younger children are the ones who are more eager to be outside, but even though Antonio isn't a child anymore, he still loves the outdoors. He watches the tomato field though his window as water pours down over the plants. The rain is good for them, but Antonio misses the sun. He really enjoys all the warmth and smells of his garden while he's working out there. It's almost painful to have to stay inside.

Lovino is off somewhere doing mysterious things, and after a while, Antonio finally gets bored enough to go around looking for him. The Carriedos' house is big, and Lovino is not in their room, so it takes Antonio a while to find him. At last, he sees the boy in the guestroom, sitting on the floor by the bed. He looks very busy with something, and his face is so serious with concentration that it makes Antonio laugh. Lovino jumps in surprise and glares at the older boy, hastily putting the source of his distraction behind his back. Antonio does not miss the action and approaches Lovino curiously.

"Que tienes allí?" he asks, but Lovino doesn't answer. He refuses to show it to him, which only makes Antonio more eager to know. "Por favor, Lovi. Enséñame."

Lovino shakes his head "no," and it's probably the closest Antonio's ever gotten to a response that admits Lovino understood his words. The Italian boy still keeps his mouth stubbornly shut, though. Antonio sits across from him, back against the wall and waits. His smile is big and stupid from Lovino's point of view, and he thinks he should tell Antonio so, but the bastard wouldn't understand him anyway, so why bother? The nine-year-old huffs and waits for the older boy to leave, but Antonio doesn't. The jerk must have nothing better to do than sit here and bother him. It's annoying enough to make Lovino pout, a stupid habit he's been trying to break because it makes the Carriedos fuss over him like a baby, but he can't help it now. Fortunately, Antonio doesn't smoother him or get overly enthused. Instead, he just chuckles and pokes Lovino's cheek, causing the boy to scowl and slap his hand away.

"Stop that, bastard! Go find something better to do, dammit! I want to be alone!"

"'Alone'?" Antonio repeats in Italian. "Why?"

Lovino shifts uncomfortably, wondering if he should reply. Just because Antonio's managed to learn someItalian doesn't mean the boy can really communicate with him. Also, the question is not one he really wants to answer. In truth, Lovino hates to be alone. It makes him feel scared, lonely, and vulnerable. But sometimes he prefers it…only because there are worse things. Certain company is just not worth keeping, or so he tells himself.

Antonio is waiting for something that will never come, and Lovino doubts that the older boy's patience will really outlast his own stubbornness. The teen doesn't seem to be getting antsy, though. He's still sitting there happily as if Lovino is the most entertaining thing in the world, and the little Italian hates it. He's not some spectacle for the bastard to stare at just because he's bored, dammit! Lovino finally gets tired of this game and stands up. Antonio watches in amusement as his foster brother attempts to back out of the room while still hiding his prize from the older boy's view. Unfortunately, Lovino's never been very good at walking backwards. He trips and hits his head on the bookshelf near the door, sending some of the more precariously placed books toppling down on top of him. The boy cries out in surprise and pain, and immediately, Antonio is on his feet, rushing to his side.

"Lovino! Lovi, estas bien?"

Lovino just groans and gives Antonio an accusing look. After all, it's all his fault. If he hadn't been there, Lovino wouldn't have had to hide anything, and if he hadn't had to hide anything, he wouldn't have had to walk backwards, and if he hadn't had to walk backwards, he wouldn't have fallen and hurt himself. The older boy is definitely to blame.

Antonio helps Lovino sit up and touches the bump on the back of his head. The younger boy shouts and pushes his foster brother away. It isn't until Antonio has something in his hands that Lovino even realizes he dropped it. The Italian shrieks and tires to get it back, ignoring the throbbing in his head as he tries to wrestle his treasured object out of the older boy's grip.

"Give that back! It's mine, bastard! Let go!"

He pulls, but not too hard. The prize is a sketchbook, and even though he'd sooner rip it up than let Antonio see it, Lovino would rather avoid both if possible. Antonio is also conscious of the sketchbook's fragility, but he keeps a hold of it, trying to reason with Lovino.

"Enséñame, Lovi. Por favor! No me voy a reír de tus dibujos."

"No! No! No!" Lovino protests. Whatever Antonio said, the answer is definitely "NO."

Then Antonio pulls a move that's the lowest of the low. He tickles him. Lovino lets go and gives the older boy a look of pure venom, though on his childish face, it isn't half as threatening as he imagines it to be. Still, Antonio seems to understand the severity of the situation and removes his hand from Lovino's armpit posthaste. Unfortunately, he takes the sketchbook with him. He's about to open it up when he hears something- a sniff. Lovino is crying. Angry bitter tears of resentment. It catches Antonio a bit off-guard. He hadn't meant to make Lovino cry; he was only playing around. There wasn't supposed to be any harm in it. Yet, here he is, the cause of Lovino's misery and the target of his hate. Can showing him his drawings really be that bad?

At last, Antonio sighs. He places the sketchbook back on Lovino's lap, unopened, and apologizes, ruffling the boy's hair. Lovino doesn't say anything. He just hits Antonio's hand away, rises to his feet, and dashes out of the room, clutching his treasure tightly to his chest.

Lovino avoids Antonio for the next couple of days. The older boy feels guilty for upsetting him so badly, but he tries to give his younger Italian brother some space. At least for as long as he can. It's easy enough to leave him alone when Lovino looks like he's happy and enjoying himself. Antonio doesn't want to spoil a moment like that. But when Lovino is sad and sulking, that barrier in between them breaks down, and Antonio is no longer able to keep himself away. He wants to comfort and protect Lovino, to make him feel strong and happy. Isn't that what big brothers are for?

Lovino doesn't see Antonio as a brother. He already has a brother, but he doubts he'll ever meet him again. This older boy is no substitute as far as he's convinced. Antonio is just a bully who babbles nonsense he doesn't understand. So of course when Lovino is crying in their room, he doesn't want anything to do with him. And the hug that comes is definitely not welcome, either.

"L-let go! Leave me alone, bastard!" Lovino screams in a choked sob.

Even though they are the words most commonly shouted at Antonio, the teen doesn't seem to understand, though really, Lovino knows he's just ignoring them. Either way, the hug does not cease, and eventually, Lovino gets tired of fighting. Antonio has his arms pinned to his sides, so he can't even lift a hand to cover his face. He hangs his head down, as far away from Antonio as possible and refuses to look at him. Antonio frowns worriedly and eventually turns Lovino towards him. The boy lets out a growl of protest and finds his head pressed against Antonio's chest. Surprisingly, he leaves it there. At least this way Antonio can't see his swollen eyes and puffy red cheeks. The older boy is rubbing circles in his back now, soothing him as if he's a big baby, and Lovino feels his face grow hotter out of sheer embarrassment. He's not some sniveling little kid! Antonio must think he's such a crybaby, and it's true that Lovino cries a lot- more than the Italian thinks a boy should- but he at least tries to hide it from his older foster brother when he can. Right now his sorrows are completely exposed, though, and Lovino wishes Antonio would go away so he can go back to hiding them. None of his other foster families ever cared if he cried alone.

"Shh, no llores, Lovi," a voice rumbles through the chest Lovino's pressed against. The tone is comforting, and finally, the Italian's thin little shoulders relax. He sobs into Antonio's shirt leaving a wet spot on the fabric, but Antonio doesn't seem to mind. He just keeps holding him and talking to him softly, trying to get the boy to tell him what's wrong. Lovino doesn't say anything, though. Even if he wanted to, his throat's too tight to talk (in any language) so instead, he just shakes his head slightly and smears his tears on his foster brother's clothing. Eventually, Antonio stops asking and continues to comfort him without words. Only later does he notice the little pieces of paper torn up on the floor, mostly hidden under the other side of the bed. They are white and ragged, sprinkled haphazardly over the carpet, and as Antonio stares at them he can only wonder- what could drive Lovino to destroy something he once treasured so much?

The next day, Lovino is lying on the couch and watching TV, half-asleep. The Carriedos have given him some Italian movies, but the boy barely watches them unless he's bored. Now that his favorite pastime is no longer an option, he just lies there, eyes half-lidded, ready to take his siesta early. Then, there's a small thump by his head that startles Lovino back into awareness for a moment. He blinks and turns his head to look at the cause of the disturbance. He's met with a sketchbook- thicker than the last one and completely brand new. Standing over it with a bright smile on his face is Antonio, glowing as if he's the most intelligent young man in the world and knows exactly what Lovino wants.

"For you!" he practically sings in accented Italian.

Lovino stares at him for a moment. Then at the sketchbook. Then back at Antonio. And finally, he pushes the offering off the couch and turns around to take his nap.

The older boy is crestfallen at the rejection of his gift. The sketchbook remains on the floor for hours after Lovino has left the couch. Then, it disappears. Antonio assumes his mother has picked it up and put it somewhere else for safekeeping. He finds it later on the nightstand in his and Lovino's room. His nightstand, not his little foster brother's.

The next week, Antonio is in bed studying a book for class while Lovino is already sound asleep. He can never stay up as late as Antonio can, though he tries. The older boy tries not to look too amused by the way the nine-year-old's eyes grow heavier and heavier, how his head will drop suddenly, startling Lovino awake before he's blinking his way back to the same state. Antonio knows that if he laughs, he'll just be met with the sleepiest of glares and an order to shut up, but that doesn't stop him from watching the cycle repeat over and over again until Lovino finally lets his head stay on the pillow. Antonio chuckles, looking over at the Italian's sleeping form before turning to the next page in his book.

Then, Lovino whines. At first, it's just a low whimper. Then, a slightly louder noise. Before long, Lovino's crying out as if he's stuck in some kind of terrifying situation. It's enough to make Antonio put down his book right away and look over at Lovino in concern.

"Lovi?" he questions.

When he doesn't get an answer, he walks over to investigate the quivering mass. The younger boy is completely hidden under the covers at this point, but Antonio can still tell that he's shaking. He puts a hand hesitantly where he thinks Lovino's shoulder should be and feels the trembling stop beneath it.

"Lovi, what's wrong?"

So he's learned another phrase…but Lovino wonders if Antonio would understand the answer. Not that he plans on talking. The Italian doesn't move or make a sound- that is until Antonio pulls the covers away from his head. Lovino sputters and tries to get his protective shield back, but it's too late. Antonio is looking at him worriedly and still holding the covers in his hand.

"Go away, bastard," the younger boy finally snaps at him. "It was just a bad dream dammit."

He doesn't actually expect Antonio to understand. So when a look of comprehension crosses his features and he answers, Lovino is very surprised.

"Bad dream? Tell me."

The Italian stares at him for a moment and finally shakes his head. Why should he? It's not like he wants to remember it. Instead, Lovino buries his face in his pillow, and tries to go back to sleep, though his body is still trembling a little. Antonio watches with concern on his face and reaches out to the boy, placing a hand on his shoulder. It's quickly shoved away, however, and the teenager sighs and finally stands up after a moment.

Lovino doesn't know why he's disappointed when the other leaves his side. He wanted him to go, right? But most of him had been expecting Antonio to stay despite his refusal to talk to him, and now that his foster brother has left, Lovino is mad that he was wrong about what the other would do.

Antonio isn't going back to bed, though. Instead, the teen stops by the nightstand and picks up the sketchbook lying on top of it. Lovino turns his head to look over curiously at the noise of paper and a pencil scratching lightly on the surface of it in this quiet room. The little Italian frowns as the older boy makes use of his rejected gift. Antonio only smiles, though, and at last, turns the sketchbook around so Lovino can see what he has drawn.

The younger boy squints across the room until Antonio comes closer to him, showing him the white page in the dim light. Lovino tries his best not to look too interested in the drawing, but he can't help examining the page just to see how bad his foster brother's drawing skills are compared to his own. Indeed, it does take him a moment to figure out what is on the paper, but Antonio isn't actually as horrible of an artist as Lovino expected. Lovino can recognize what are supposed to be tomato plants anyway. There are only a few rows of them on the middle of the page, with the sun shining brightly overhead. On the border, Antonio has drawn bigger tomatoes, making them into a frame. But the stupidest thing of all is that he's drawn faces on the tomatoes too, all smiling and laughing. Not a sad fruit in sight.

As Lovino is staring at it and contemplating how childish and weird it is, Antonio does something even stranger. He starts wiggling the picture in front of Lovino's face and making a bizarre sound.

"Fusososososo!"

The nonsense word surprises the Italian and causes him to give the older boy a what-the-fuck face, but then something unexpected happens. He snorts. It's not a laugh, and it's done more out of contempt than amusement, but it's something- and that idiot, Antonio, only grins wider.

"Te gusta, Lovi? Do you like it?" Antonio translates.

"No," Lovino answers promptly and turns around, hiding his not-smiling face in the pillow again.

Antonio frowns and tries to think of something new to draw. Lovino hears him scribbling away, and his imagination is already coming up with a million ugly or stupid things Antonio could be creating when the sketchbook is placed before his face again. Lovino peers up and sees a fat cat, staring at him with eyes far too big for his head and sitting on…a tomato.

"W-what the hell is with you and tomatoes?" he sputters.

"Pomodoro," Antonio repeats like a parrot.

Lovino scowls, thinking the other is making fun of him. Maybe Antonio isn't the one who's obsessed with tomatoes. Maybe something's gotten into him that has made him think that Lovinoadores them somehow. The Italian doesn't know what must have given him such an idea. Yes, he likes tomatoes. Sure, they were the only things he would eat for the first days that he actually did eat anything…but he's not obsessed. He just likes the color red, and the fact that about half of his belongings are red has nothing to do with the fact that tomatoes are red too.

"Listen, bastard," Lovino says. "Your drawings suck. And just because you put tomatoes in them doesn't mean I'll like them. Hey! Are you even listening to me, dammit?"

Antonio is too busy sketching his next drawing to translate Lovino's words in his head. He finishes his work and turns the book around to show his little brother…a giant cake with tomatoes on it. What the hell?! How can that even taste good? Lovino makes a face to show his lack of appreciation and finally snatches the sketchbook out of Antonio's hands. If someone's going to draw something, it had better be done right.

Antonio hands him the pencil and kneels down on the floor by Lovino's bed, waiting. The younger boy gives him an unhappy look that asks what he's doing there, but then, he looks back at the sketchbook, and his face twists with concentration as he turns to the next clean page. He draws a cat, the way it shouldlook- tomatoless and covered in long, black fur. Lovino pays special attention to the eyes, trying to perfect the shape and size, shading in the pupils carefully.

Finally, he's satisfied, and he turns the sketchbook around to show Antonio- not really because he wants to, but because he knows the nosy bastard won't go away until he does. Antonio leans forward eagerly, squinting in the light emitted from his nightstand lamp, and his smile widens as he takes in the cat Lovino has drawn.

"Muy bien! Very good, very good, Lovi," he praises, grinning like an idiot.

Lovino smiles and can't help but blush a bit. He's always been embarrassed about showing other people what he can do since it was often called a waste of time more than it was appreciated. He can never remember anyone complimenting his work before, and it makes him want to show Antonio more…He starts sketching the next picture almost right away, and it isn't long before several more pages are filled and curfew is continually ignored.

The next weeks bring some changes in the Carriedo household. Lovino starts following Antonio around more often, something that delights the older boy and amuses their parents. The young Italian is often carrying the sketchbook or has it close at hand. Whenever Antonio has trouble understanding him, Lovino will draw a picture trying to make it clear what he wants (usually it's food). When Antonio asks him what he'd like for Christmas, Lovino draws a big easel with a paintbrush and paints on the side. The art supplies are expensive, but Antonio saves up for them. More than anything, he wants his foster brother to be happy.

But as the time goes by, Lovino's foster parents begin to worry about him too. The boy still isn't speaking Spanish. His tutor worries that Lovino is using Antonio as a crutch, that the older boy's willingness to learn Lovino's native language is hindering the younger's motivation to learn the language of this country. The Carriedos urge Antonio to encourage Lovino to speak more Spanish, but Antonio refuses to stop speaking bits of Italian to him too. He likes being able to communicate with his little brother, and he doesn't want this growing bond between them to be weakened. Lovino's preferred method of communication is still his sketchbook, and he lets the other know that by waving it continually in his face. If Antonio still doesn't get it, Lovino starts whacking him with the thing, and Antonio tries to remember why he bought one with such a hard cover.

Soon, the tutor starts coming less and less. She feels unable to make progress with Lovino, and the Carriedos are spending a lot of money on her wasted efforts. They start to wonder if their home is really the right one for the little Italian. Lovino doesn't seem as unhappy as he was when he first came, but he's still falling behind other children his age. Way, way behind.

Christmas Eve comes. There's lots of eating and singing, but Lovino doesn't know the words, so he just bangs on his tambourine instead and stuffs his mouth full of Spanish sweets. He's especially fond of the turrón. Antonio gets a huge kick out of sprinkling candied almonds over his head and chanting "Confetti, confetti!"Lovino doesn't appreciate the play on words and collects the candy as it falls to eat later. Then, there's dancing and midnight mass; at the end of it all, Antonio ends up carrying a sleepy Italian home for a very late Christmas dinner. Lovino is too exhausted by the excitement of the night to even keep his eyes open, and he rests his head on his foster brother's shoulder without protest as they greet Christmas at its earliest hours.

Gifts don't come until the sixth of January. Lovino stuffs straw in his shoes the night before like his foster parents show him. He doesn't really understand what it's for, but Antonio assures him good things will come, and of course, the next morning, his easel and paints are waiting for him. Antonio can never remember seeing Lovino so happy. The extra hours he put in working for money and the long search for the perfect art supplies are suddenly well worth it. His foster brother's eyes light up and a smile spreads across his face so wide that Antonio is surprised the boy's lips even stretch that far. And the most amazing part is that Lovino isn't even trying to hide it. Finally, he's letting himself look happy in front of the older boy.

Lovino has a present for Antonio too…but he waits until no one else is watching before he gives it to him. That night as they're going to bed, Antonio almost lies on top of it. Just before it meets its crushing doom, he looks down to see a piece of paper next to his pillow. Picking it up, he examines it carefully. There's a person standing on a red mountain that Antonio automatically assumes is a tomato, though he's sure Lovino would deny it if asked. He studies the person more carefully and notes the tan skin and bright green eyes. The longer Antonio stares at it, the more he feels like an inflated balloon, and soon he's almost about to burst from happiness. Lovino has drawn him.

The teen almost smothers the younger boy in a hug, but the Italian is already asleep in his own bed, looking innocent of any gift-giving and far too cute to be disturbed. Antonio decides he'll wait until morning to thank him. He places the paper on his night table carefully, like an important document, and after he stares at it one more time before turning off the lights, he is finally able to take his eyes off the picture of himself in the middle and notice the tiny writing at the bottom scrawled in haste and almost too small to see. "Grazie."

Quietly in his bed, Lovino smirks.

The little Italian starts smiling a lot more. He's very happy with his easel and paints on it often. The Carriedos have carved out their own space for him and his art upstairs in what was once the guestroom where Lovino used to hide and draw secretly. Now he paints a bit more out in the open, but still insists on having the door closed when he's working most of the time. He never lets anyone see anything before it's done, not even Antonio. If the older boy so much as takes a step into the room before the appropriate time, Lovino will yell at him and maybe even throw a crumpled up piece of paper or two in his direction. Eventually Antonio is trained to wait, but there's nothing Lovino can do to soften the reaction his paintings get from his foster brother when he finally does get to see them. Antonio always praises him enthusiastically and compliments every inch of the canvas, sometimes in fragmented Italian, but most of the time in sputtered Spanish. Still, Lovino usually understands most of what he's saying because they are words he actually cares to know. After so much blushing and rejection of praise, the Italian finally gets the doting Spaniard to shut up and always ends up wondering why he ever agrees to let Antonio see his work in the first place.

Lovino starts calling the room his "Studio" and soon, everyone else calls it that too. The boy spends more and more of his time there, and soon it's hard to get him to come out for anything. At first, it's kind of cute. The Carriedos call him their little artist. They try to put his work out on display, but Lovino refuses to let anything be taken out of the room even if its destination is just the refrigerator door. Antonio laughs and treasures the picture Lovino drew of him, which the younger boy permits him to keep by his bed, but not anywhere else. He doesn't draw anything else for any of the Carriedos, even by request. They teasingly call him stingy, but deep down, everyone knows Lovino is just shy.

Lovino isn't just shy, though. He's embarrassed. The boy is self-conscious about his work, and soon Antonio's words become overplayed, like a song listened to so many times that it loses its meaning. His praise is cliché. Lovino sometimes wonders if he was always just saying it to be nice. The Italian is self-conscious, but he is also stubborn. Even when he loses confidence in himself, he still keeps painting. The way the colors flow together on the canvas relaxes him, and he decides that even if the end result is not fit to look at, the process of creating something is worth the effort. Nothing satisfies him like the stroke of a brush, putting color where there wasn't anything before. He loves it.

Lovino paints so much that he stops trying to do anything else, especially the things he never bothered to do before. When he's not painting or drawing, he's sleeping, and sometimes it even takes Antonio dragging him out to get him to the dinner table, though the boy loves to eat and accepts a far larger variety of food than he ever did when he first arrived. Spanish cuisine has grown on him. Maybe the Carriedos have too…a little.

Mr. and Mrs. Carriedo love Lovino like a son- but they know the little Italian won't be theirs until he wants to be. Some days he acts like he never will; other times, it's almost hard for them to remember their lives before he came into them. They're patient and kind to him, but they love him. And loving always means doing what's best.

Antonio comes home from school one day carrying a bag of sweets- the candied almonds he knows Lovino likes- and he can't wait to give them to him. He knows his foster brother will probably frown at the gift, maybe offer a small non-enthusiastic "grazie" and then take the treats away to enjoy in private, but he will still enjoythem, and knowing that makes Antonio smile in Lovino's place.

But Lovino's not in their room. And he's not in the Studio. In fact, nothing is in the Studio. The paints and papers have all been cleared away. Even the easel's gone, and the teen feels a sinking feeling drop into his stomach staring at the empty spot where it once stood. At once, he dashes away to find his parents.

The Carriedos are unprepared for the look of shock and anger that crosses over their oldest son's features as he demands to know where Lovino is. The teen shouts and pounds his fist on the kitchen table, a sign of aggression that his parents haven't seen since before Lovino came into their home. Antonio is red-faced and extremely upset. He's heard his parents talking before, but never believed they'd actually do it. He never believed they'd send his little brother away.

But Lovino's not gone, his parents tell him. Only the art supplies. They've hidden them away in the attic, far out of the nine-year-old's reach- for his own good, they say regretfully. Once he starts making an effort to learn Spanish, once there's hope for him ever attending school,then he can have them back. But Antonio is still unhappy. How could they take away something so important to his little brother? He understands, but he still doesn't agree.

Relieved that Lovino is still somewhere around the house, Antonio resumes his search, knowing that the Italian must be hiding somewhere, sulking and depressed. Lovino needs him. But even after all of the boy's favorite hiding places have been thoroughly investigated, after every inch of the house has been checked twice, Antonio still finds nothing. Desperately, he asks his parents to help him search, and the three of them grow a bit more frantic as time passes and still no Lovino is found. Finally, Antonio grabs a jacket and leaves the house.

He's not sure where to start looking, but he makes his way to the park where Antonio's parents would take Lovino sometimes to play, though the boy had never done much more than sit on the swing or draw shapes in the sand. He gets there, panting but finds that the swings are empty and the sand hasn't been touched for hours, since the last of the children finished playing and went home. It's dark now, and Antonio feels his heart thump loudly in his chest as he looks around the playground worriedly. The boy can't be out by himself now. What if something happens to him? It isn't safe for a nine-year-old to be wandering the streets at night. Antonio has to find him, fast.

Mr. and Mrs. Carriedo are searching in different directions. Antonio is sure one of them must have called the police by now. He's running and out of breath, trying to think of all the places Lovino might have gone, while at the same time, never stopping his eyes from scanning the area around him. Nothing. Hours later, and still no sign of him. Antonio loses the fight with himself, the fight against the rational side of his brain telling him to stay calm and just keep looking.He finally breaks down and cries.

Dragging his feet as if they're made of lead, he carries himself slowly home and wonders if he'll ever see the little Italian again. His little brother that loves him and hates him, that yells at him to go away and cries into his shoulder, that insists on being left alone and later follows him around with his sketchbook, demanding attention. His Lovino.

Antonio reaches the front door to his house and sobs, wiping the tears from his face with the back of his hand before opening the door and entering the house. Silence. His parents haven't returned yet. They're still out looking and for a moment, Antonio almost turns around to go back outside and continue the search despite how tired he is. Until he notices one thing- all the lights are on.

Forgetting his lethargy for a moment, Antonio rushes to his room and opens the door hastily. Sure enough, there's a bundle of sleeping Italian, nestled on Antonio's bed, amid a spray of candied almonds spread all over top of the comforter. The teen doesn't wait until Lovino's awake. He launches himself at him and crushes him in a hug.

"CHIGIII!" the boy cries in surprise as he's woken up by a hundred and fifty pounds of ecstatic Spaniard. Some of the confettiflies off the bed as it bounces with Antonio's added weight. The older boy holds him tight to his chest and cries happy tears, so glad to have his brother back and barely able to form coherent sentences in either Spanish or Italian.

"Lovi! Lovi!" he repeats over and over.

"Dammit, get off, you bastard!" Lovino squeaks. "You're crushing me!"

He coughs, his voice hoarse, and Antonio looks down to see tearstains on the younger boy's cheeks as well. Was he hiding here the whole time? Did he leave the house and come back while the Carriedos were out looking? It doesn't matter…The important thing is that Lovino is home.

"I was so worried about you, Lovi," Antonio mumbles in Italian. Please…don't do that again.

Lovino isn't sure what shocks him more- the fact that a few hours of his absence can make Antonio cry like this or that the older boy is actually forming complete sentences in Italian that are longer than four words. He feels his own tears coming back, but he refuses to cry before his face gets all puffy and soon, he's burying his face in Antonio's shoulder.

"Stupid…Stop crying, bastard. It makes your face look really dumb," he sniffs into the older boy's shoulder.

Antonio laughs and kisses Lovino's forehead. The Italian blushes and puts up a fight, smacking Antonio and trying to escape the smothering hug and embarrassing kisses that almost-ten-year-olds should not be subjected to. When he finally does break free, the Carriedos are back, and then there are more tears and crushing hugs…Lovino just can't escape.

"You're part of this family," Antonio tells him, and though his accent is heavy, the Italian understands every word. "We love you, Lovino."

We love you. We love you.

Lovino is quiet for a moment, staring at his foster brother- no, it's just "brother" now. His hermano.Biting his tongue and looking down at the floor, Lovino timidly tries to pull something out from the back of his mind, and when he lets it out, it's almost too quiet to hear.

"Te quiero, también."

The End

I actually wrote this for the Spamano exchange back around Christmas. It needed some editing though, so I haven't gotten around to posting it here till now. I usually don't write in present tense, but this fic just wouldn't have it any other way. Hope you enjoyed it!

Translations:
"Ay, Lovi, eres tan lindo! Estoy muy emocionado que veniste a vivir con nosotros! Vamos a ser muy buenos amigos, no?" Aww, Lovi, you're so cute! I'm so excited you came to live with us! We're going to be very good friends, aren't we?

"No? No estás bien?" No? You're not okay?

"Pobrecito. Ven, te ayudo a volver a la cama." Poor thing. Come, I'll help you get back into bed.
"Duerme rico, Lovi." Sleep well, Lovi.

"Que tienes allí?" What do you have there?

"Por favor, Lovi. Enséñame." Please, Lovi. Show me.

"Enséñame, Lovi. Por favor! No me voy a reír de tus dibujos." Show me, Lovi. Please! I'm not going to laugh at your drawings.

Confetti- Italian for Jordan almonds