Actions

Work Header

The Art Of Falling In Love

Chapter Text

When had it all started?

 

Andrés was sure it had started the evening someone not only dared to insult his tie, but also continued to make fun of his best friend rather loudly.
If you asked Martín though, these feelings had started much earlier, to be exact almost ten years earlier in Germany, Berlin.

Martín wasn't one for the arts. That much was clear, for most people it was even clear at first sight. When he waltzed around in his black leather jacket along with washed out jeans and a simple shirt, you couldn't expect too much artistry from the Argentinian.
Even if some people didn't see this at first sight, Martín made sure to inform them about this by not only belittling art majors but also ridiculing everything that had even anything remotely to do with art. He wasn't made for it and to be quite honest, he simply couldn't see the appeal about standing in front of a canvas to try and analyse the feelings of the artist.
That's why he preferred engineering. It was simple, uncomplicated and there were no feelings involved. Mathematics was just numbers to be put together and equations to solve without worrying about any form of feeling.

He was on an exchange year in Berlin that his university had provided for some of the more talented students, which meant that Martín being at the top of his class, basically got a free trip to Berlin. Although Berlin wouldn't be his favourite destination, he could at least appreciate the free food and a free dorm. Besides that, he found himself often in the local bars and pubs, since the German did have quite good beer.

It was on one of these outings that he met Andrés.

The Argentinian had stood up from his spot to order himself another beer. The bar was packed with people since it was a friday evening and most working people tended to get their "Feierabendbier" here, as the locals called it. It was a wonder Martín had even gotten himself a free seat, which was why he raised his eyebrows at the man now sat in his seat. "Amigo, you're sitting at my spot. I wouldn't mind sitting in your lap, but maybe you should consider getting your own seat", Martín said with a grin, his cheap beer clutched in his hand. The stranger in front of him didn't look like he belonged in this place. It wasn't just the fancy designer suit that made him stick out so much, the man also had a certain sense of authority around him. He seemed powerful and confident, like a man you wouldn't want to cross. And yet, Martín was grinning at the guy and flirting with him.

"I'm terribly sorry but where's your name tag on this seat? Surely, I must have overlooked it. Oh no, I haven't because I am free to sit anywhere I please. However, since I am nothing but friendly, you can sit with me, amigo."

This stranger sure had some nerves to invite Martín to his own seat, but he didn't come here looking for trouble and the man was definitely handsome. Nobody should mind handsome company, not even Martín did. So, with just a smirk, the engineer placed his beer on the table right next to the other's wine glass, moved around and promptly sat on his lap as promised. He leaned back to gauge the man's reaction to his shameless flirting, but instead of shock or disgust, the other male just laughed.

"Andrés de Fonollosa. Usually, I get a lady a drink before they sit down on my lap, but you don't seem to stick to these traditions, do you?"

 

 

Martín didn't believe in love at first sight, but he later on swore that this was the exact moment that had doomed him for years to come.

Chapter Text

When had it all started?

Martín was sure it had started about ten years ago in Germany, Berlin, with a handsome stranger stealing his seat.
If you asked Andrés though, these feelings had started much later, when some fat fool had dared to not only insult his newly acquired bowtie, but also continued to make fun of his best friend.

His little brother, Martín and Andrés had been in a small local bar when it had happened. Now, the evening had started wonderfully with two of the most important people right by his side, drinking and laughing with him. They had even managed to convince Sergio to drink some alcoholic drinks, which was a wonder in itself, but Andrés tended to have that effect on people. He knew exactly what to do in order to have things go his way. 
Then his bowtie had gotten loose and Martín, ever the best friend, had tapped his shoulder and beckoned him to turn towards him, so he could redo it carefully. Martín usually knew when something bothered him, it was almost as though he had developed a sixth sense for his friend and Andrés couldn't help but appreciate the sentiment. In return, Andrés liked to think that he could read the other like an open book. 
He smiled lightly as his engineer redid his new tie carefully, to make sure that his shirt didn't gain any wrinkles because they all knew that Andrés hated even the smallest form of imperfection. Sergio stared at them with a knowing look, but that wasn't anything new and neither of the two let themselves be bothered by that. 

It had all started to go to shit as soon as Andrés heard that big bigot claim how atrocious his new bowtie looked. Noone would insult him so loudly in front of his friends, he would have to talk some sense into this man later, but for now he could ignore the laughing, even if it was at his expense. However, his head snapped to the fat guy, when he heard just who his next victim to insult was.

"He's a fag, that one. Look at him, like a dog waiting for their master and redoing his tie. It's disgusting."

Andrés was so busy glaring at that particular gentleman that he didn't even notice Martín had finished with his bowtie and was now getting another drink, blissfully unaware of the table around the fat man bursting out with laughter at his expense. Now, logically, Martín had been faced with much harsher insults and could fully defend himself if he wanted to, but nobody was allowed to call his most important friend a faggot and get away with it. Andrés himself would make sure of that.

So, when the big guy stood up to walk over to the bathroom, Andrés seized his opportunity, excused himself and followed that bigot. The thief had grabbed himself a fork on his way to the bathroom, which he had stuck in his dress pants without anyone noticing. The moment he entered the bathroom, his light expression changed to something much darker. His face was hard, his eyes narrowing at the man. Andrés stepped in front of him when he wanted to leave, grabbed him by the throat and backed him into the sinks. 

"You were brave out there. Now it's time to prove that bravery." 

Andrés grabbed the fork he had snatched from a table, before he uttered his next words:

"Let's look at these balls of yours, shall we?"

With that, he rammed the fork into the balls of the fat guy. That served him right, but it still wasn't enough. He wanted to see this man who had dared to ridicule Martín suffer at his hands. 

"Hang in there. Tell me, what do you prefer? Death or impotence? Sometimes you're forced to make tough decisions. Mine: what do I do with the asshole that's making fun of my bowtie and calling my best friend a faggot. Yours: Was it even worth living without a penis."

He slammed the fork multiple times into the fat guy's balls and made sure to leave as much damage as humanly possible.

 


It was at this moment that Andrés realised just the extent of his feelings for his friend, that he would do anything for him. It was love. Andrés had been married five times, he knew the signs. But it was also the moment, in which he decided to break it all off. 

 

 

Sometimes, you're forced to make tough decisions. His: Do I let my best friend, my soulmate, suffer by giving him hope, only to then slowly wilt away? Or do I gave him time to heal an aching heart?

In the end, it wasn't a tough decision at all. People would call Andrés selfish, yes, but he couldn't give Martín this kind of hope only to break his heart even worse with his death.