Solo Para Ti

Chapter 2

On the other side of Manhattan, Lovino Vargas woke with a grunt and further rolled himself up in his blue comforter. His younger brother, Feliciano, had opened the window again and it was freezing up his once warm room.
He grumpily slid out of his bed and made his way over to the window, slamming it shut and scaring stray pigeons.
Lovino was going to return to his bed, but just as he had sat back down-

"Lovino! Get ready!" His grandfather called to him from downstairs.

"God dammit," he muttered and flung the comforter off much like how a matador would his cape.

Lovino pulled on his trousers and dress socks, then decided on a deep maroon colored shirt for the day.
He pushed his stubborn bangs out of his eyes and began his decent on the stairs.
He had lived in America for 5 years now with his grandfather Romulus, and his younger brothers, Feliciano and Marco.
His grandfather owned a very popular Italian restaurant called Girasole. "The best in all of New York," he would brag.
Lovino worked as a waiter, along with Feliciano, and Marco sat on a wooden stool (much to high for him) by the door and took people's coats.
Lovino rather liked New York, though there were days he missed the almost constant heat, the red and brown tiles on rooftops, the grassy fields, and busy market places of his home in Italy. His grandfather would take the three boys back each summer, but not since Italy had started announced themselves as an ally to Germany.
The mere thought of such earned a huff from Lovino as he poured his orange juice and buttered a slice of toast. He had deep hatred for each and every German that gladly associated themselves in the Nazi party. It was because of them and that weak mustached kraut of their leader that was keeping him from going home.
Feliciano practically skipped into the kitchen and flung his arms around his brother. "Good morning!" He chirped happily.

"Quit opening my window, you ditz." Lovino pointed a finger at Feliciano as he took a bite of his toast.

"But the pigeons enjoy the warmth! And besides, you do have plenty of blankets." The younger pouted and poured himself a glass of orange juice.

"I'll make a blanket out of the pigeons if you do it again."

"Lovino!"

"Feather blankets will not be allowed in this household! They're so tacky." Romulus Vargas grimaced at the thought of such a thing as he entered the kitchen and put on his house shoes.

Lovino set down his glass and looked over to his grandfather. "Erm, nonno... It's a Tuesday. But Flora closed her shop..."

Romulus looked down at him over his spectacles. "I see... There is a new florist- just opened up again under new ownership. Real nice family supposedly. Big one too. Over in East Harlem."

Lovino nodded as his grandfather tossed a few coins to him and the scribbled address on a scrap of paper.
He waved goodbye to his brother and grandfather and made his way to the coat rack, promising he would be back before opening hours of the restaurant and that he would mind the sheets of ice that had glazed the road and sidewalks over night.

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Okay so I've never been to New York before, so I'm basing my knowledge of such a place off google maps ;u;
What do you think of the story so far?
And Marco is supposed to be Seborga~