Humans are strange creatures. They will always delude themselves into thinking they're happy, when in reality they're not. Lovino knew this truth all too well. He knew that there was no such thing as true happiness in this world. The first eighteen years of his life were a testament to this fact. So now at the age of twenty two he was living his life as if he had since he'd run away from home; drifting from night club to bar and back to night club, drowning himself in alcohol and frivolous attention from people he didn't know. This was his life and while he couldn't say he hated it, he certainly wasn't content with it. Something was just missing.

So when Lovino entered a noisy night club in downtown Madrid, he expected the usual treatment. The patrons of the club gave this tanned Italian no heed as he sat down at the bar. The bass of the loud music thumped in his chest, hurting his ears, but he didn't care. If he went deaf then that might not be so bad.

"Gimmie a rusty nail," he said in broken Spanish. The barkeep frowned at his botched tongue, but at least understood him well enough to know the order. He mixed it up and set it down in front of Lovino, who snatched up the tumbler and took a deep swig. He sighed, feeling the alcohol start taking effect. Looked like it was going to be another night of getting shit faced and waking up in a stranger's bed.

Lovino spun on his stool and looked out onto the dance floor, searching for his target. It was crowded with young people dancing to the beat of the heavy music, if you could even call it dancing to begin with. It was more so just grinding than anything else. Lovino looked sourly down into his glass. This scene never did change.

There was a sudden outburst from the crowd and everyone started to roar. Lovino looked up from his glass and saw that the people had made a circle around a single person there on the dance floor. A man was doing a solo break dance in the middle and the crowd was raving as he danced. He was toned and wore a red fitted t-shirt, a couple of wristbands and a pair of baggy jeans. He had curly chocolate brown hair and skin tanned just a shade darker than Lovino's. Lovino watched him cross his arms then get down on the floor to spin on a hand. The crowd was going absolutely bonkers, but to Lovino the guy looked like a total idiot.

Lovino watched the guy for another minute or so until he could no longer stand it. He put down his empty glass, hopped off the stool and pushed his way through the crowd until he was standing in the center ring as well.

"Hey, asshole!" he shouted over the music. The guy stopped and looked at Lovino slightly confused.

" ¿Que? Mi dio, what's your problem?" he asked, his rich voice spewing flawless Spanish. Lovino felt his eye twitch just hearing him talk.

"You piss me off," he answered back in Italian. "I don't like your attitude. You. Me. Right here, right now. I'll show you how it's done."

Lovino shimmied out of his canvas jacket and waved at the DJ to start the music up. The DJ put on a new song, a heavy fast beat with lots of bass. Lovino tapped his foot, getting the feel of the music before he started in with his routine. His arms went out as he began, his hips getting into their rhythm. Before long he was in full swing, dancing it up and putting on quite the show. Lovino was so into his own thing, he didn't notice the Spaniard start copying his moves and dance along with him. He was getting into his own groove and as Lovino finished a spin he found himself face to face and pressed close to the Spaniard despite the wide berth around them.

The crowd in the club was roaring like lions, cheering and chanting, but the only thing Lovino could hear was the pounding of his own heart and the blood rushing to his face. The green eyes boring into his own were quite unnerving. Lovino stood there frozen to his spot on the dance floor, staring back into those eyes. The Spaniard grinned at him and that was enough to snap him out of his trance. Lovino's lips pursed, his cheeks puffed out and he punched the Spaniard square in the cheek as hard as he could (which was quite hard to say the least). The Spaniard reeled back, staggering back into the crowd. The crowd gasped and looked to Lovino, who stood still rooted to the floor his fist shaking.

"What the fuck, man?" he shouted in angry Italian. "Where do you get off doing something like that?"

Lovino turned on his heel and stalked back to the bar before the Spaniard could even retort. He scooped up his jacket and plopped himself back on the stool, giving a shout to for another drink. He drained the tumbler in one gulp and started to sink into his stupor. What in the world had given him the bright idea to go out on the floor and dance challenge someone? Lovino looked down at his empty glass and got a sneaking suspicion he already knew the answer.

"Ai yai yai, amigo that really hurt you know," said a smooth Spanish accented voice. Lovino bristled at it but refused to look up from the counter. The Spaniard took a seat on the stool next to him and waved at the bartender.

"Two screwdrivers, por favor. You know, you really shouldn't hit people just because you lose."

"Shut the fuck up. What would you know about it?" Lovino said irritably. The nerve of this guy!

The bartender set down two taller tumblers in front of the Spaniard.

"Ah, gracias. Here, this one's on me." He pushed the glass towards Lovino, gesturing for him to take it. Lovino wasn't one to waste alcohol, so he took the glass still glaring.

"A screwdriver? Tch, I don't waste my time with vodka," Lovino spat, but he drained half the glass anyway. He coughed a bit from the burn.

The Spaniard sipped his own drink and smiled. "Hmm, I can see that. You've already had scotch, so the vodka should be a nice compliment to tone it down with."

"Shut up…fucking moron…," Lovino muttered. The Spaniard ignored the snide comment and continued to smile as he talked.

"You're an Italian…what brings you to Madrid?"

"None of your fucking business, bitch."

The Spaniard tsked a bit. "You're so nasty. I wonder what happened to you that would make you like this, hmm?" He leaned in closer so Lovino could smell the alcohol on his breath. Lovino felt the heat rise again in his face, though that may have been the scotch and vodka talking.

"What's with you?" he sneered. "I just punched you in the face and here you are buying me drinks. What the hell's your game?"

The Spaniard shrugged. "You intrigue me. You dance very differently from what I'm used to. You have a passion! A real drive for it!"

Lovino laughed loudly. "Seriously, is that all? Well I've got one for you; what's a guy like you doing dancing in a cheap club like this?"

"What's a boy like you doing drinking in a club like this?" the Spaniard retorted. Lovino bridled at the boy comment. The Spaniard continued unperturbed. "Say, you got a place to stay?"

Lovino glared at him and finished off his third drink. He slammed the glass down on the counter. "What's it to you…?"

The Spaniard's smile broadened. "Want to come over to my place?"