The Lovely Wounds (SpaMano)

Don't Cry Over Spilt...

Afternoon light was cruel. The way the sun was angled in the sky made for the worst glares. The light that shone through the windows was blinding, especially when it fell down upon closed eyes. Lovino hadn't thought to shut the blinds the night previous. He hadn't slept on the futon in his office in so long, the idea hadn't occurred to him. He had only thought of sleep. He was too focused on the Spaniard that lay down right beside him.

This was the first time Lovino had woken with ease beside him. The first time, he had been rudely awoken and pinned to the floor by a very aroused version of his former boyfriend. The second time he had been alone. This waking moment was calm, just as his desired. He had drifted into consciousness slowly, warm but not sweaty, drowsy but not groggy. He smiled softly to himself and turned his body to face Antonio. His cheek was covered by a while bandage that had little dots of blood seeping through. His eyes were closed in a light peaceful sort of way. His chest rose and fell slowly and melodiously. He was in a deep sleep that Lovino did not want to wake him from. This moment was too peaceful to end so soon.

The Spaniard woke an eternity later. Lovino had been drifting in and out of sleep, too drowsy to notice the set of green eyes watching him. When he finally managed to come around to see that set of eyes, Lovino snuggled closer. A smile formed on Antonio's lips. It was a gentle, gorgeous smile that warmed Lovino from the inside out.

"Good morning," Antonio said softly, snuggling in closer to Lovino.

"Morning," Lovino whispered, blinking once or twice to clear any lingering sleep from his eyes.

"Can we sit here all day?" he asked gently.

Lovino raised a single brow and checked the time on his iPhone. "It's two in the afternoon. I have work to do. No. As much as I would love to, we cannot stay here all day."

A pout formed on Antonio's lips and he opened his mouth to protest. Lovino shot him a look as if to quiet him. Instead the Spaniard smoothly transformed his complaint into a question. "What do you even do?"

"Exactly what I said last night. I interrogate to get information. Sometimes it gets rough, but I try not to let it..." he said softly, bitterly.

"Oh..." Antonio mumbled. "You've changed a lot, Lovi..." He paused and smiled. "I'm sorry; Lovino."
The Italian closed his eyes and shook his head. "I know I have, and I've come to blame the Russian. He killed Grandpa for reasons, after four long years, I still don't understand. I became bitter after you left, but Grandpa's death really set me off. They killed Chief Beilschmidt, too. Shot him inside of the local grocery store. If I hadn't seen it for myself, I would have called it a coincidence. Wang killed him for sure. I have no doubt in my mind it was him, with that long black hair. I want him dead, Antonio. I want the Russians dead. I want them to pay for Feliciano's tears; he shed too many for Grandpa and Aldrich. They will pay, and I will make sure of it."

Antonio's held an expression that was unreadable, and Lovino worried that he had said something horrible wrong. After a few moments, however, he spoke.

"I don't blame you, necessarily, Lovino," he spoke. Antonio looked as if he were struggling to find the right words; it was odd for the man that usually held the answers. "I just worry that you will lose yourself. When I found you, you were a sad lost puppy. That puppy has grown up into a full-grown hound. I knew you couldn't remain blissfully innocent forever, but you can't allow yourself to turn rabid. Don't go down a one-way road you'll never recover from. Don't take a nosedive down to Hell because you are so keen on revenge."

Lovino batted his eyelids and nodded. Antonio truly cared which meant a lot for him. He understood what he was trying to prevent entirely, but he had no intentions of following the advice that was provided to him. Lovino was going to get his revenge no matter what the cost. If that meant falling into a pit of no return, he'd do it.