tangled || spain

The heavy scent of red wine filled your nostrils and you could hear a Spanish sob coming from the living room. Your steps became lighter and you sucked in your breath to prevent any source of sound to come from you as you descend down the wooden stairs that seemed to creak especially loud tonight.

You reached the last step and stepped off with high precaution before your head peeked around the corner, [h/c] locks dangling in the air and eyes filled with curiosity. There you saw Antonio, the man of your affection, on the plush sofa, tears rolling down his cheeks and a glass of wine in his hand, the red liquid swishing around as he twirled the glass absentmindedly in his hand.

"A-Antonio...?" Your voice spoke softly in the silence. The sound of your voice made Antonio shoot his head up and squint his eyes to spot you in the darkness; he could see you almost right away however, you were glowing, always.

"[Name], mi amor. What are you doing up?" Antonio asks you as if his tears aren't there and he's fine; which you assume he's not considering the sadness you can see in his emerald pools. His eyes were usually filled with happiness and they seemed to reflect something much brighter then the sun.

"You weren't in bed..." You trailed off, coming around the corner and heading over to Antonio. You came by his side and brought your hands to his face, delicately cupping his cheeks and running your thumb over his smooth skin, removing the glistening tears that lingered on his cheeks, "Why are you crying?"

Antonio bit his lip, unsure of how to respond to your question. Despite the alcohol whizzing through his brain, he knew he couldn't tell you what was on his mind; you, you, you. Depressing thoughts filled his mind, soon finding his vision clouded with unwanted tears. He took a sharp breath in, "I...I'm crying because I miss Lovi." He lied.

He lied to you again. This is why he doesn't deserve you; he can't tell you anything because he doesn't want to hurt you, he doesn't want to be hurt by the truth he fears the most. Why were you even still with him? What did you see in him?

"We can always call him and we can always force him into visiting us or vice versa, like we used to."

"You're right; sorry," he sends you an apologetic look, his face twisting like that of a beat up puppy begging for forgiveness.

"Don't apologize, it's fine. Come on, let's go to bed." Your hand takes the wine glass from his hand and sets it on the table and then recoils back to grab his hand, only to have him grab your wrist instead and pull you into his chest, strong arms wrapping around
you protectively.

"I don't want to go to bed. I've been a bad boy, I should sleep on the couch instead; I don't deserve to sleep with you."

"Antonio what are you talking about? Of course you're allowed to sleep with me-Hmph!" Your sentence is cut short by demanding lips, that forced themselves onto yours. Antonio pressed harder against your lips, wanting to deepen the kiss more but your hands moved on their own and began to push Antonio off of you; this wasn't right.

You're right. It wasn't right. Antonio craves you, he desperately needs you but he doesn't deserve you. He doesn't deserve to touch you like he does, he doesn't deserve your love and most importantly he doesn't deserve to own your heart; the organ that beats only for him, he doesn't deserve that.

Antonio was tangled in a web of lies, the strings suffocating him in his very own lies he himself said to protect his relationship with you. He was a greedy selfish man who wanted nothing more then to devour you whole.