What Makes You Beautiful: Spamano Songfic Request

Well, here is your songfic EmiChan-77!!! I'm sorry that it took longer than I expected!!!! I seriously hate normal life sometimes.
Song belongs to "One Direction." Enjoy!!!

~~~~

There he is again.

That Italian.

No, not Feli.

The older one.

The one with the darker hair, the tanner skin, the bright hazel eyes.

The one who always wears a scowl on his face as he looks at the ground, never meeting the gaze of anyone, never greeting his peers, his lips always set in a flat line.

Si, that one.

Antonio stares at him, his green eyes widening, and his stomach fluttering slightly.

Francis nudges him and wriggles his eyebrows suggestively.

"Ohonhonhon, looks like someone's in love," The French boy says, a lewd smile present on his face.

"I don't even get why you like him. I mean yeah, the kid's really hot, but he doesn't seem that fun to be around," Gilbert remarks with a shrug as he glances at the Italian, who lifts his head to give the cafeteria a quick once over, before sulking toward an empty table shoved in the very corner of the room.

Antonio keeps his eyes on the Italian, his lips automatically turning up into a smile. He can't help it.

The Spanish boy doesn't understand what it is about this specific Italian, but there is something special about him.

Lovino.

Lovino Vargas.

The words are like honey on Antonio's tongue. Gentle. Smooth. Sweet.

Lovino keeps his eyes down as he reaches into his school bag and takes out his rumpled sack lunch. The Spaniard watches as the Italian reaches into the bag and pulls out a rather smashed tomato and bologna sandwich. Lovino scowls, and Antonio can see his lips move in that all-too-familiar way. Those snarling lips and pointed eyes…those constant curses under his breaths.

…

You're insecure
Don't know what for
You're turning heads when you walk through the door
Don't need make-up to cover up
Being the way that you are is enough

…

Antonio always makes it his job to talk to Lovino, even when nobody else does. The Spaniard always smiles and waves, approaches him and tackles him with a long hug, ruffles the Italian's already tousled hair, pokes his cheeks while teasing him about how red he is, calls him mi tomate or Lovi, pulls on his long curl just to hear him say "Chigii!" (Though Antonio never understood why his curl would cause him to react so violently). Any excuse to have some sort of interaction with Lovino Vargas.

In response, the Italian curses Antonio out, calling him "tomato bastard," screams at him, hits him, punches him, verbally attacks his heritage and accent…

But he never tells Antonio to leave him alone. He'll tell him to "get the fuck away" from him, or to "fuck off," but it's not the same. Lovino instinctively responds to "mi tomate" and "Lovi." The Italian even gets angry at Antonio when the Spaniard doesn't approach him.

"Fucking bastard! Why didn't you say hi to me today?"

Antonio Carriedo finds Lovino Vargas to be extremely special. Beneath those angry eyes, those blushing cheeks, those balled fists, those snarling lips...

Beneath all that is a person who wants to be loved. Appreciated. A person who feels decrepit and ugly, living in the shadow of his more "lovable" brother.

Antonio wants to be the one to appreciate Lovino. The Spaniard doesn't understand why, but he just does. He wants Lovino to see how beautiful he really is. He wants the Italian to understand that he's amazing, just so amazing…so full of life.

Antonio finds Lovino riveting, passionate, a fighter. The way his hazel eyes light up and flash with each faint flicker of emotion that he feels, the way he does everything he can to protect his brother, those rare smiles that play on his lips…the ones that seem to light up the room and take Antonio's breath away…

But the Spaniard knows that Lovino doesn't see it, doesn't have faith in himself. And it hurts Antonio, knowing that his tomate can't see what he sees.
What everybody else can see.

…

Everyone else in the room can see it
Everyone else but you

…

Antonio hears people talk about Lovino all the time. Nobody seems to hate him. The girls at the academy all find him extremely attractive, referring to him as that "sexy Italian boy." Many boys are appreciative of his ability to fight, to stand up for what he believes in, despite the fact that he doesn't open his mouth much, unless it's to throw an insult.

His own brother Feliciano is extremely proud to call Lovino his "fratello."
But Lovino still sits alone, unapproachable.

Nobody talks to him, in fear of being lashed at or rejected. Nobody makes direct eye contact, in fear of being glared at.

But everybody still sees how special he is.

Everyone but him.

And Antonio knows that his goal is to change that.

The Spaniard turns around and gives both Gilbert and Francis a hearty wink before striding over toward the scowling Italian, who half heartedly chews on his sandwich, his face wearing an expression that suggests that it is the most disgusting piece of shit in the world.

"Hola, mi querido!" Antonio bursts out as he slips into the seat next to Lovino, his lips stretched into a wide smile as he reaches out to ruffle Lovino's hair. As expected, the Italian slaps his hand away, his lips twisting into a sneer.

"Ack! Che Palle! Don't touch me, tomato bastard!" Lovino snaps, his cheeks burning bright red.

Antonio just keeps smiling at the Italian, drinking in his flushed cheeks and swirling eyes. So special. So, so special.

"There's no need to be so angry, mi tomate, I'm just stopping by to say hello to my favorite Italian!" the Spaniard responds jubilantly, reaching out to ruffle Lovino's hair again. The Italian scowls in response, but crosses his arms, making no movement to push Antonio's hand away.

"D-Don't say things like that…idiot," the Italian snaps, his wide eyes shifting to glare fiery holes into the table. But Antonio sees it. That faint glimmer…that small upturn of the lips…the subtle softening of the expression.

Lovino likes being Antonio's "favorite Italian." The Spaniard may be oblivious, but when it comes to Lovino, he's watched and observed the Italian enough to understand the way he functions. Lovino likes appreciation. He likes to be shown affection. He just has a difficult time receiving and responding to it, because he doesn't believe he deserves it.
Lovino Vargas is blind, completely blind.

Completely blind to the affect that he has on Antonio.

Antonio bites his lip all the time to prevent himself from just confessing his outright love for the Italian on the spot, to force him to realize that he's so amazing, and that he'll always be the most beautiful person in the world to Antonio.

…

Baby, you light up my world like nobody else
The way that you flip your hair gets me overwhelmed
But when you smile at the ground, it ain't hard to tell
You don't know
Oh Oh
You don't know you're beautiful

…

"Lovi! You're smiling!" Antonio bursts out, beaming, feeling his heart melt at the sight of the small smile creeping onto Lovino's face.

The Italian's face reddens even further, the tan complexion of his cheeks filling with rich scarlet. "N-No I'm not, b-bastardo!"

"Si, si! You are!" The Spaniard responds, holding back his laughter as he reaches out a finger and pokes Lovino's cheek gently. "I'm not blind, mi poco tomate. You were definitely smiling. Aww, is my little Lovi happy to Boss Toni's favorite Italian?"

Lovino's eye twitches in response as he stutters, "I'm not…y-you….Ack!"

"Dammit, you're embarrassing me. You're always embarrassing me, you bastard! Why the fuck does it have to be me of all people?" The Italian snaps, grabbing fistfuls of his dark locks, as his face crumples into a snarl.

Antonio tilts his head slightly to the side, observing Lovino with a gentle expression on his face. "Why shouldn't it be you, Lovi? I like you, so I decide to talk to you. We're amigos, si?"

The Spaniard subconsciously leans toward the Italian. Lovino looks flustered as he picks up his sandwich and bites into it aggressively, avoiding Antonio's gaze. He continues to stuff the rest of the sandwich into his mouth, gigantic bite by gigantic bite, his mouth bulging, his cheeks bright red, and his eyes still searing holes into the table before him.

Antonio sighs and carefully places his hand on Lovino's shoulder. The Spaniard feels the Italian stiffen under his touch, but he keeps his hand there anyways.

"Lovi, why is the idea of being friends with me so alien to you?" he asks, daring his fingers to gently stroke the Italian's shoulder. Antonio's own heart starts to pick up as he hears Lovino's breath hitch at the subtle gesture.

"B-Because…y-you're a fucking annoying idiot, that's why!" The Italian burst out shakily, not daring to look the Spaniard straight in the eye.

Antonio keeps his mouth shut for a moment. Then he smiles gently as he says, "You know you're absolutely amazing, mi querido."

…

If only you saw what I can see
You'll understand why I want you so desperately
Right now I'm looking at you and I can't believe
You don't know
Oh oh
You don't know you're beautiful
Oh oh
That's what makes you beautiful
…

Lovino freezes. His whole body tenses up as he slowly turns his head toward Antonio. The Spaniard doesn't take his hand off of the Italian's shoulder. He is determined to make this stubborn Italian realize his own appeal.

It frustrates Antonio to no end to watch Lovino every day, to see him in action, to want him so desperately, while also seeing how the damn boy thinks so little of himself, compares himself to his younger brother, isolates himself, thinking himself unworthy of company.

Lovino scowls and pushes Antonio's hand off of his shoulder. "…Fucking idiota."

"Aww come on. It's true!" The Spaniard insists, ever keeping eyes off of the Italian, who still fails to look him in the eye.

"S-Shut up and stop lying. It's pissing me off!" Lovino snapped, crossing his arms and moving his head downwards, looking as if he is ready to shut himself away from the rest of the world.

"…Lovi…." Antonio sighs gently. "I'm not lying."

"Why don't you go poke fun at someone else for a change you fucking bastard?" The Italian growls, his tone coated with a hurt undertone…an undertone that seems to pull at Antonio's heart strings and strengthen his appreciation and love for the Italian.

"I'm not poking fun. I'm being serious."

"Pfft, yeah right."

"Lovi…"

"Why don't you go and fucking mock Feliciano for once? I'm sure he'd enjoy it," the Italian fires out with bitter resentment. "He likes the attention anyways."

Antonio sighs as he puts his hand back on the Italian's shoulder. "Look at me, mi tomate."
Lovino just scoffs and keeps his head down.

"…Por favore? Un minuto?" The Spaniard asks softly, fighting the urge to tilt the Italian's chin up so that he can properly look at him in the face.

Lovino huffs slightly, his mind obviously stirring up lashing and fiery insults for Antonio, but he doesn't say anything. Instead, he obeys and turns his head to look at the other's face, his face set in a permanent scowl. "Seriously. What the hell do you want?"
Antonio smiles in response and asks in the most tender voice possible, "Why do you think I'm not genuine Lovi? About being your friend?"

His eyes darken into a smoldering mixture of brown and green, swirling together in a thick mass. To Antonio, it makes the Italian even more desirable than he already is.
"Why the fuck are you asking me these questions, you damn jerk?" Lovino shoots out, his voice possessing the capability to slice with each word his tongue forms. Yet, it's not enough to push Antonio away. The Spaniard just smiles in response.

"It's just a question, mi amigo. Why would I not want to associate with you?" was Antonio's calm response.

Lovino's stare is hard, unyielding, calculating. But eventually, he looks away, a flash of discomfort and glumness present on his face. He opens his mouth and says, "Because I'm a fucking failure, that's why. Is that answer enough for you, bastard?"
…

So come on
You got it wrong
To prove I'm right, I put it in a song
I don't know why
You're being shy
And turn away when I look into your eyes

…

Antonio stares at Lovino as the Italian's cheeks redden. The Spaniard feels something pull at his heartstrings, yanking, pressing. He feels the overwhelming need to just wrap his arms around Lovino, to hold him, to tell him that he's not a failure, that he's perfect the way he is, and that he wouldn't change a single hair on his head…

"…That's not true, Lovi."

"Vaffanculo! Why the hell do you even care?" Lovino shifts his whole body swiftly so that he's facing Antonio completely. He's glaring daggers, his eyes molten liquid, filled with what the Spaniard knows are tears that want to be shed…tears that won't be shed because an angry Italian won't let them fall.

"What the hell do you even want, anyway? You're always being so damn nice to me, always calling me shitty as fuck nicknames, always poking me or pulling on my curl…which is AN EROGENOUS ZONE, you perverted oblivious idiota…"

Antonio feels his cheeks redden at this piece of information, but before he can respond, Lovino continues to rant, "…Just tell me what you want and I'll fucking give it to you. Unless it's some sort of weird kinky sexual favor that I'm sure only you would think of!"

The Spaniard opens his mouth, and then closes it again. He then sighs and shakes his head. "It's not like that. I just want to be your friend, no conditions. Is that so hard to believe?"

Lovino falls silent once again, his mouth half open in anger, frozen mid-insult. After a few seconds, he crosses his arms and puffs out his cheeks, showing a strong resemblance to a sulking child.

"Si. It is hard to believe."

Antonio daringly, and hesitantly, brushes his fingers against the Italian's cheek. To his delight, Lovino didn't stiffen, or snap, or make any motion of objection. "Why is it so hard?"

Lovino's eye twitches. "W-Well I'm sort of…pathetic….and y-you're…you're…."
The Italian blushes furiously before growling, "Goddammit! Stop interrogating me, you bastard!"

…

Everyone else in the room can see it
Everyone else but you

…

The Spaniard finds himself smirking. Lovino is absolutely adorable. He feels every part of his innards melting within him, melting into hot molten caramel.

"Que? I'm what?" he presses teasingly, resisting the urge to squeeze the Italian's cheeks. "Aww, come on. What does Lovi think of Boss Spain?"

"S-Stop flattering yourself! Mio Dio, you are so damn stupid!" Lovino snaps back. But Antonio remains unperturbed. He just stares at the Italian longingly, his eyes wide and glimmering, a wide smile present on his face. Lovino looks at him out of the corner of his eye and frowns.

"W-What the hell are you doing?"

"What?"

"You're staring at me. S-Stop it! It's creeping me out!"

"Ay, Lovino. You're so beautiful, you know that?" Antonio says, unable to stop himself. And he finds that he doesn't regret saying the words not one bit.

Not when the Italian's eyes widen, the scowl is wiped off to be replaced with unabashed shock, his lips open slightly…

Lovino turns his head to look at Antonio full in the face, at loss for words. The Spaniard just smiles back at him.

"I-I…" The Italian stutters. "Y-You shouldn't say things l-like that…bastard…."

Antonio places his elbow on the table, and rests his chin on his hand, smile still intact, eyes shining as he takes in the Italian. The vibrant, feisty, angry-as-hell, yet beautiful Lovino Vargas.

"And why not, mi tomate?"

"B-Because…"

"It's the truth."

…

Baby you light up my world like nobody else
The way that you flip your hair gets me overwhelmed
But when you smile at the ground, it ain't hard to tell
You don't know, oh oh
You don't know you're beautiful
If only you saw what I can see
You'll understand why I want you so desperately
Right now I'm looking at you and I can't believe
You don't know, oh oh
You don't know you're beautiful, oh oh
You don't know you're beautiful

…

"Ack!" Lovino snaps, jumping up from his seat, his shoulders hunched, his eyes dangerously narrow, his limbs trembling as he glares at Antonio. His hair looks more tousled than ever, his cheeks are bright pink, and his lips are pulled back in a bitter sneer.

"What the fuck? Merda! Why are you saying this shit? Why? It's not funny!"

Antonio sighs. "For the last time. I've already told you that this isn't a joke. I'm telling you the truth. You're…"

"Stop it!"

"Amazing…"

"Fuck you!"

"Cute…"

"I said stop it!"

"Passionate…"

"What the….what the crapola have you been smoking?"

"…and beautiful. You just don't see it, Lovi."

Lovino's face goes blank as he shuts his mouth. His eyes are wide and shimmering, his expression unreadable. His limbs are still shaking and his face is bright pink. Antonio feels his own heart beat against his chest violently as he stands up and walks closer to the Italian.

They are only a few inches apart.

"And you should see it. You deserve it," Antonio almost whispers, feeling everything around him swirl, dizzying, hypnotic…it is just he and Lovino. It doesn't matter that he's in the middle of a cafeteria, surrounded by a multitude of students. It doesn't matter that people are probably staring at them right now, wondering what the hell is going on. It doesn't matter that both Gilbert and Francis are probably watching this all unfold, planning to pick on him about it later.

No. All that matters, is the Italian boy before him. The beautiful Italian boy.

Then, Lovino shakes his head. Back and forth, frantically. "Y-You're just bullshitting this. I know you are. P-Please just s-stop. It….It actually hurts…"

Antonio sees the Italian's face flash with genuine pain….the fear of ridicule, the overwhelming feeling of being overshadowed, shunned, ignored... self-hate, self-worthlessness, loss of hope…

The Spaniard sees it all. Mixing in together with that adorable and perfect scowl that permanently penetrates his face.

And it's perfect. So beautiful.

It's Lovi.

So, Antonio reaches out, grabs the Italian by collar, and plants his lips on his. Lovino is paralyzed in shock at first, but it doesn't take long before he finds himself responding, letting himself fall into the Spaniard's arms, the two of them melting in bliss, in the never ending glades of satisfaction.

Antonio lets the Italian know everything in that kiss. He tells him the truth. He tells him that Lovino's perfect the way he is…and that Antonio loves every single aspect of him. He loves his insults, his permanent scowl, the way he always blushes, the way he downplays his affections even though he does so much for those he care about…

Everything.

Everything about Lovino Vargas is one hundred percent perfect to Antonio.

And the Spaniard is now sure that this moody Italian believes it as well.

…

Baby you light up my world like nobody else
The way that you flip your hair gets me overwhelmed
But when you smile at the ground, it ain't hard to tell
You don't know, oh oh
You don't know you're beautiful
If only you saw what I can see
You'll understand why I want you so desperately
Right now I'm looking at you and I can't believe
You don't know, oh oh
You don't know you're beautiful, oh oh
You don't know you're beautiful