WARNING: Swearing. In English, and what I hope (from Google Translate) is Italian. (If someone familiar at all with the profanity of the language wanted to confirm that for me I’d be forever grateful, because I trust Google Translate with that task as much as I would trust a drunk Prussia to hold my newborn child.) Anyway, it’s Romano, so if you don’t like swears, GTFO. Now. See? I swear, Reader-chan swears, Romano swears, we all swear. It’s healthy.
“Why can’t I meet your brother, Lovino?” you asked the grumpy man, slinging an arm around his shoulders as he sat on the couch.
He blushed a little, turning away. You were the only one that tolerated his temper and language, and managed to match it with your own. “I-I just don’t want you to, okay _____? Jeez, ragazza, can’t you let this go?”
“No.” you said stubbornly staring at him. “Tell me.”
He turned back to stare into your (e/c) eyes with a look as equally stubborn. “No.”
“C’mon, tell me.”
Let’s just say this went on for some time. And during, Romano was occupied with thoughts of your first meeting.
“Who’s that?” a girl’s voice rang out behind him. She had startled little Romano as he gazed up at the portrait of his grandfather.
He just turned away, saying, “What’s it to you?”
She grabbed his hand to keep him from leaving, a determined look on her face. When Romano turned to glare at her, her (e/c) eyes sparkled with recognition, “Oh, I see now! It’s your grandfather!”
“W-What?! Ragazza, how did you know that?” Romano stammered, his glare fading.
The (h/c) girl stared at him like he was the stupidest kid alive, “Well, he’s too old to be your dad. And I dunno, you just look like family, I guess. You’ve got his eyes, and the weird curly hair. All that shit.” Her (e/c) eyes widened and a hand flew to her mouth, “Damn- I mean crap! You won’t tell anyone I swore, right?”
Romano felt a smile being dragged to his face. “It’s alright, ragazza. Swearing is good for the soul.” The little girl grinned and shook his hand as if she hadn’t been holding it a moment ago.
“I like you. My name is _____.” she said boldly. “We’re going to be friends, alright?”
Romano stared at _____, wondering if she was serious. “I’m Romano. I guess you can call me Lovino, if you want.” he was stunned at this girl, wondering what her deal was. Why would she want to be friends with him?
“Tell me!” you said, poking his cheek.
“Argh!” Romano was snapped out of his thoughts and he quickly managed to hold both your hands down so you’d stop prodding him. “Chigi, _____, won’t you quit it already?” he said, blushing at touching you so much.
You smiled, “Nope!” Lovino sighed, releasing you. “Come on, tell me!”
“I’ll give you two options, Lovino.” you now said in a serious tone. “You tell me, or I will come into your room in the dead of night and pull that curl.” He looked at you. You were serious, and he could tell. Those golden eyes were mesmerizing, and you knew you’d get something out of this. You had always wondered what that curl did. “Maybe you’d tell me if I pulled it right now?” you asked innocently, tackling him.
He got all wide eyed. “You wouldn’t.” Lovi said, wrestling you back.
“Try me.” you said, getting dangerously close.
“Cazzo!” he said, you could tell he was giving in, and about to yell at you, “You’ll like him better than me, alright!?”
You flopped back onto the couch. He stared at you for a moment, trying desperately to read your mind. Then you said, “What the fuck is wrong with you, Lovi?”
“W-What?” he stammered. What kind of a response was that?
You slung your arm back around him and laid your head on his shoulder. “Lovi, I already know Feli. I just wanted to know why. Why the hell would I like him more than you?”
He was speechless. You-You liked him more than Feli? But why? He was second best at everything!
“You’re sweet even under all that big ass temper, you know every swear I could ever throw at you, you can pickpocket like a badass, and you are a good artist, you just need to have more confidence in yourself. I do know Feli pretty well. And I still like you a hell of a lot more. That ought to count for something, right?” you looked up at him with sincere (e/c) eyes.
A small little smile spread over his face. He might not be the best in the eyes of the world, but he was best in your eyes. And that was all he needed.
He brought you into a comfortable hug, “Si. That counts more than anything else.”