"Why do you call me that?"

Antonio blinks and turns from the movie playing to look at the boy clinging to his arm. His mouth twists into a familiar grin; who knew the feisty Italian loved to cuddle so much?

"What do you mean, Lovi?" he asks, green eyes blinking in earnest confusion.

Lovino's lips twitch, white teeth biting down hard. Delicate eyebrows furrow together. "That," he says. "Lovi."

Antonio frowns, just a little. Lovino watches him.

"I hate your name," the elder finally replies, voice flat. "I hate what it means and I hate your parents for naming you something so terrible." Antonio wraps his arms around his lover. "Forgive me," he breathes.

Lovino snuggles into his chest. "Nothing to forgive," comes a whisper.

Antonio's shirt feels damp.

Rovinare; to ruin.