The Lovely Wounds (SpaMano)

Bastard, It's Not Love

Lovino felt heavy all over, body and mind. He was so groggy, but he had some sort of sense of where he was. He was warm despite the iciness he had felt the night previous. He could only guess he was dead. He had drowned and now he was in heaven. He was just waking up in the great beyond. That was the most logical explanation. He couldn't have survived that monstrous wave. No way in hell.
Lovino was afraid to open his eyes to see what heaven was like. Lovino mustered up any courage he had, forcing his crusted eyes open. He saw a hospital room. With monitors and cords and everything. Okay. Maybe he wasn't dead, but how the hell did he survive?

Lovino was afraid to open his eyes too see what heaven was like. He slowly mustered up any courage he had, forcing his crusted lids open. He saw a hospital room. Okay. Maybe he wasn't dead, but how the hell had he survived? He was pretty sure he remembered blacking out in the water. He heard voices though. Specifically a thick Spanish one.

Lovino's eyes drifted closed again, his mind lost in confusion. He only knew one person with that odd, lilting Spanish accent. Antonio. Antonio had been calling Lovino from the shores. He was there, too. Why? How had he found out that Lovino was at the beach? Oh. Right. Lovino had heard Lily's call. She had always followed Lovino around. The little girl thought that she was amazing at sneaking around, but Lovino had become used to pretending that she wasn't there. He didn't want to ruin her game when she was clearly mesmerized by his playing. Some afternoons he had even gone out on purpose just for her. That time, however, he'd forgotten to check for his little friend. The sickening realization hit him. He had nearly killed himself in front of that little girl's eyes. Lovino couldn't have felt more ashamed or more grateful for that matter. Lily meat have called Antonio and the police. That girl... he owed her his life.

The Italian smiled warmly, Antonio's shouts coming to mind again. Back in the water they had seemed like whispers. They were so quiet compared to the roars of the waves. He could hear them now, more distinct and easier to understand in Lovino's mind now that he was starting to fall asleep. The whispers helped a smile creep onto Lovino's lips, but it was short lived.

There was a tug on his curl, and he found himself immediately sitting bolt upright. He looked around wildly, his eyes wide. No one. He leaned back against his pillows, and not before long, he heard a distinct giggle coming from his left. This time the Italian actually checked the floor beside him. To his utmost horror and surprise, that same Tomato Bastard was lying on his hands and knees beside Lovino's bed. He noticed he was only in his boxer shorts and a hospital gown. Lovino's cheeks flared crimson and he turned away.

"What the fuck are you doing here, you bastard?" he asked, his voice scratchy and hoarse. His throat burned. It must have been from ask of the salt water he choked down.

Antonio giggled as Lovino verbally berated him with his cursing and demanding questions. "We have the same hospital room."

Oh. "Why the hell are you in the hospital?"

Antonio's face fell slightly, but the expression was quickly wiped away with away with a smile. "I went in after you, of course."

Lovino was a bit stunned. He hadn't really expect that. "Why? What do I matter to you?" Antonio only chuckled. He was making fun of Lovino. Great. "Why are you laughing, bastard?"

"'Cause. You just don't get it, Lovino," Antonio mumbled, stifling a giggle.

"What don't I get? What is there to understand?"

Antonio slowly sat beside Lovino. He had a carefree smile playing on his olive lips. He seemed happy. "Tú eres mi corazón," he whispered with the softest of voices.