Part Three: The Moon

~/~

It was near four in the afternoon and the sky was clouded over. Everything felt dark, hidden, and mysterious, and the walls of the skyscrapers never ended.

Lovino woke up in a start. His heartbeat was fast, and his eyes were wide open. He didn't move from where he was, and tried to calm his thoughts. As he curled his fingernails into his palms he could feel the adrenaline course through his veins. It was a type of impatience. It chilled Lovino's skin, and made his teeth chatter. His whole body shook as the sole order screamed Go. Just go. Go. Do something. Go. Anything. Anything. Go go go go go.

Get.

Your.

Ass.

Up.

If.

You.

Want.

To.

Fix.

This.

His eyes shifted from the blank space of the window, and with a few shaky breaths, Lovino maneuvered himself off of the bed. He didn't let himself stop. He rode the impulse, and he went.

~/~

It was a hotel this time. Ivan was back in town, and at times like these, Emma insisted on meeting in unique, and often unusual hotels. She didn't want to risk the chance of him popping in, and she very much liked the chance to get away and whisk Antonio away with her.

They were already in their luxury sweet. Emma wanted to watch a movie—it was some vague romantic drama that Ivan was never interested in. Antonio held her gingerly, and Emma nodded off and on during the course of the movie. Something about Antonio's presence soothed her to the point where her collection of insomniac nights collapsed, and she was finally able to sleep.

She laid her head in his lap, and Antonio pet her hair. The movie was quiet and humming in the background, and neither of them were paying attention anymore. As his fingers worked mechanically through Emma's hair, Antonio gazed out the window. Somehow…some way…he was bored. And it was such a strange feeling. But he recognized it, and he felt a strange emptiness about him, like he was missing or waiting for some element.

Without thinking, his eyes traveled to his phone—it was still dark and poised on the armrest of the couch.

Antonio bit his lip.

The weekend had already passed, and he received no phone call from Lovino. It wasn't surprising really, considering what little Antonio gathered from his personality. What was surprising was how disappointed Antonio was.

He knew he liked Lovino. There was something intrinsically fascinating about him that Antonio couldn't quite understand, and something guarded and fragile that drew Antonio closer. He wanted to get closer. He wanted to be close.

He wanted Lovino to call him.

But the black screen remained. Light dwindled from the windows, and soon the room blended together.

Everything was dark.

~/~

Ring!

Ring!

Ring!

Rin—

"Hello," Antonio answered. He was staring at the sky; he never glanced at the screen.

A low sigh echoed in the background. "You just had sex, didn't you?"

Oh. Antonio recognized the honey-smooth voice in an instant. A smile unwittingly spread across his lips, and he replied, "Why would you say that?"

"You sound melancholy…and your breathing is heavy."

"Mm," Antonio hummed in acknowledgment. "That's an interesting way to put it. It's as if you know me already."

"You're about as open as your apartment."

Antonio laughed, and his heart felt light. "Perhaps that's true. I don't like lies very much. The truth is always more interesting," he explained dreamily, and his voice was very far away.

Lovino paused, as though he was debating his answer. Then he muttered, "I don't think so."

Antonio glanced around him and smiled a little smaller. "I'm actually taking a walk though. I'm in Central Park."

"Really?" Lovino sounded surprised. "It's kind of late to go for a walk."

"What do you think could happen to me?" Antonio teased, and his eyes danced.

Lovino was quiet for a moment. Antonio imagined him rolling his eyes and pressing his lips together in silent annoyance.

"Well," he began slowly. "I doubt you have anything people would want."

"That's debatable," Antonio proposed.

Lovino ignored him. "Why are you going for a walk anyway?"

"Ah," Antonio chuckled, and he kept strolling with one hand in his pocket. "I suppose I needed to clear my head for a bit. And I like going for walks at night. There's something romantic about them."

"Uh-huh."

"That sounds like disapproval," Antonio said playfully, and he alternated his gaze from the ground to the clouds. "I think the night is very romantic. The darks are much darker, and the lights are so much brighter. It's so alluring…yet somehow, the things that are important are much clearer."

Lovino laughed softly and unwillingly. "You're such an artist," he muttered, but his voice didn't sound cruel.

Antonio smiled and he kept walking to the exit of the park. He was swallowed into the stream of the crowd. "Why are you calling by the way?"

"Ah," Lovino replied shortly, "I was actually wondering if you needed a ride."

Antonio raised an eyebrow and his lips turned up. "Are you in the neighborhood?"

"I'm close enough," Lovino drawled vaguely.

Before Antonio could ask for clarification, he caught a flash of bright red pull to the curb beside him. He never usually glanced at the cars, but he did this time. A tinted window rolled down, and Lovino's distinct profile came into view.

Lovino didn't say anything, and just stared blankly out the passenger door window.

Antonio laughed and hung up the phone. He tucked his phone into his pocket and skipped to the car. The seats were made of high quality leather, and soft to the touch. Antonio sat down with a satisfied smile and glanced at Lovino.

"Nice car," he complimented.

Lovino revved the engine and shifted into drive. "Thanks," he said easily, "it's new."

They crawled away from the curb and settled in the lines of nighttime traffic. It was slow and stop-and-go: very typical New York City. Antonio noticed the golden, orange and vermillion hues filtering through the glass. They danced and reflected and caught the depths of Lovino's eyes. His body was firm and tense, but his expression was always softer.

"Should I take you back to your apartment?" Lovino asked after a while.

It took Antonio a moment to process the question, and a few moments longer to figure out what to say.

Lovino was staring at him expectantly. "Or is there anywhere else you have to go?" he added in mild curiosity.

Antonio smiled. "I don't have to go anywhere. I like to wander."

Lovino rolled his eyes. "Right," he scoffed. They stopped at a red light, and Lovino's hands dropped in his lap. His fingers fidgeted for a while, until finally, he asked, "Um, do you mind if I smoke?"

"Not at all," Antonio replied, and he watched Lovino eagerly reach for his cigarette and lighter. When he had the cigarette in his mouth, Antonio offered, "I can light it for you if you like."

Lovino's eyes flashed to him bright and gold. "Okay," he murmured, and passed the lighter delicately to Antonio's rough hands.

Antonio's smile was perhaps too excited to be so near to Lovino's face. With all the acuity of an artist's eye his gaze trailed over the complexities of his skin – the silky tan and the spotty blush – and the smooth angles of his face. Antonio felt as though he wanted to sculpt him.

Once the cigarette was lit, Lovino's eyes fluttered open, his dark eyes staring at Antonio once again. He took a drag of his cigarette and pulled away. "Thank you," he said.

The light turned green.

After a long while, Antonio mused, "Why this car?"

Lovino stifled a cough on a cigarette, but he didn't do it well. "W-what?"

"Why'd you buy this car? Is there something special about it?"

Lovino's cheeks were tinged red, and it wasn't so much from the lights. "Well, it's a Porsche, so yeah…it's pretty nice."

Antonio nodded his head. "Is it to replace the Mercedes?"

"No, I actually," Lovino paused and his eyes flickered to the wheel, "I have a few cars…three to be precise."

"Oh," Antonio murmured and a dawn of realization gleamed in his eyes. Lovino was far wealthier than he imagined. But there was something else. "Why so many?"

Lovino pressed his lips together and tapped the cigarette outside the window. "I like to collect things I guess. Art, cars, clothes," he trailed off, and his cheeks were red again. "It's whatever."

"Must be nice," Antonio hummed. He watched the glass window of the skyscrapers flash by. "You're not very good at keeping your cars though, are you?"

Lovino coughed again, and this time he tossed the cigarette out the window. He didn't answer the question, and said instead, "I have to go to a gala this weekend. In Boston."

Antonio stared at him, a slow and sly smile inching its way across his cheeks. And since Lovino was still silent, he offered, "Would you like me to join you?"

They were at a red light again, and Lovino's hands were in his lap. "It'll be really boring."

Antonio chuckled; he had the sudden impulse to kiss Lovino's cheek, and it caught him off-guard. "I'll try to entertain you," he recovered smoothly.

Lovino's eyes shifted to his, gold and strong for a moment. "You better. That marble was pretty damn expensive."

Antonio laughed again, and his heart beat a little faster seeing that Lovino had smiled along.

~/~

"Thanks for the ride," Antonio said. They were parked in front of Antonio's brick apartment complex; the lights of the car drifted away into the dark night.

Lovino started another cigarette, he held it tentatively in his hand. "No problem," he replied softly.

Antonio watched him for a few moments. He was fairly keen at reading people, but Lovino appeared to be written in a whole other language. Beautiful, but daunting; a bit too complex to understand.

"Are you okay?" Antonio asked, and his fingers reached for Lovino's shoulder. He held it reassuringly.

Lovino's muscles tensed, then relaxed at the touch. He exhaled smoke. "I'm fine," he whispered. Then again, with a little more confidence, "I'm fine."

Antonio's lips pursed, and his eyes felt heavy with newfound compassion. He released Lovino's shoulder and leaned against the window instead. Softly, he murmured, "People are so fragile. Have you noticed that?

Lovino was silent.

Antonio stared up at the moon: full and shining behind the pane of glass. "It actually…it terrifies me, when I think about it."

Still no sound.

Antonio's breath fell wistfully, and he grasped the door handle. He had his foot on the pavement, when his siren spoke.

"You care too much, Antonio," Lovino replied. "I don't think people are fragile enough."

Antonio's eyebrows lowered. He was trying to see.

Lovino turned to him, and in his driest voice, added, "People might be better off if they would break once in a while."

The moon smiled on both of their faces, but it was of no help. For once in his life, Antonio couldn't see.

~/~

"Lovino?" Felicia called, and her soft footsteps echoed closer and closer to the door.

Lovino had just finished taking off his scarf and jacket, and was hanging them on the rack. "Sorry I'm late. I was dropping someone off."

"Oh, really? That's fine, I guess. I was worried about you though," she giggled and hugged Lovino fast. "So, did you have a good day then? I feel as though I haven't seen you in a long while."

Lovino smiled very briefly. "Yeah, it was a good day. I know you were busy with wedding things. I just toured the city on my own."

"Ve~ well it was just choosing flowers and such," she laughed, and her brown eyes flew to Lovino's once again. "Oh, do you need a date to the gala this weekend? I think Elizaveta might be free. I can ask her or—"

"No, that's fine," Lovino interrupted. "I, um…I found someone. So it's all fine." He strode fast in the direction of his room and kept walking.

Felicia gazed after him, eyes in wonder. "Really?" she asked, and she began to follow.

"Yes."

"That's great!" she exclaimed with a clap of her hands. "Who is it?"

Lovino held his doorknob for longer than necessary, then replied very easily, "Just a nobody." And he closed the door.

~/~

Days passed calmly and normally. Nothing was different, nothing had changed; yet why did Antonio feel this perpetual itch under his skin wherever he went and whomever he was with? And why was it a thousand times worse when he found himself all alone?

He felt mad. He felt scared. Antonio thought he might be returning to how he used to be. Even Eliza, when they were together at their usual café, noticed it. And she was never one to keep her mouth shut.

"Toni, what's up with you? You haven't stopped shaking your leg since we've sat down," she said low under her breath. Then she caught sight of his clenched hands and wrenched them apart. "What's going on?" she pressed.

Antonio's eyes flickered from the dozen different places to Elizaveta's face. He tried to keep steady, but it was in vain. "Nothing's wrong," he smiled.

Elizaveta raised a brow and leaned back in her seat. "Really? You're lying to me now?"

Antonio grimaced and turned away. He intertwined his fingers again and replied, "I don't know what's wrong exactly. I just feel very…uncomfortable."

"Really? I find that very surprising. I don't think I've ever seen you uncomfortable before."

"Yeah, well," he sighed. "I used to be quite a lot. I thought I was past it. Or—well, I thought it didn't matter anymore. But I," he paused for a moment, "I feel empty around other people. I don't quite feel alive like I used to. And…it's bothering me." Antonio's eyes slid to the side, and they gleamed dark and nervous.

Elizaveta thought for a moment. "Is something on your mind?" she asked.

"Yes," he replied. But he bit his lip and added, "I just can't tell what it is."

And it rained. It rained so much, and it covered everywhere. It was the melancholy that followed Antonio everywhere he went. How could he escape the sky's teardrops and the streets' liquid mirrors?

~/~

When he arrived at Abel's late and tipsy Friday night, it was still raining. He walked in with wet clothes, light laughs, and the softest green eyes. Something about the weather was eroding him away, and it must have been obvious, because the way Abel touched him wasn't like anything before.

Antonio was fast at chucking his jacket to the floor and nimble at undoing his shirt, but Abel held his wrists, and kissed him dear. It was gentle. Abel's lips, though rough, and his hands, though strong, treated Antonio gently. But Antonio didn't want it. He didn't want the fragility, or the kindness—he didn't want Abel to finally figure out what he was truly made of.

A dozen minutes in, when they were both unclothed and Abel's hands touched Antonio's softest skin, lightning struck.

"Lo siento," he murmured, and tears began to fall. He smiled even as he trembled. "Lo siento, lo siento, lo siento."

The mantra continued, and Antonio's lips never fell, but he couldn't stop shaking. Abel sighed and held him. He didn't whisper sweet nothings or caress his skin, but he did hold him close and strong, and his steady heartbeat remained a comfort.

A dozen minutes after, things began to settle. The rhythm of the rain returned to a jazz, and Antonio's breath evened out.

"Do you want to smoke?" Abel asked.

Antonio chuckled. "No. Not really."

Abel rolled his eyes and shifted slightly in the bed. "I'm no good at talking you know."

"I don't want to talk," Antonio said.

"…Right."

"I don't."

Abel pursed his lips and turned his attention to the floor: he thought of how to organize the mess. "I don't think we should see each other anymore."

Antonio didn't tense and his smile didn't falter. He was still tranquil, as he replied, "I know."

"Do you?" Abel glanced down at him suspiciously.

"Elizaveta told me the same thing. I guess it's just time."

"Is that really it?"

"It must be. I can't think of anything else," Antonio answered, but his voice didn't sound too sure.

"That's a lie," Abel said dryly. He forced eye contact and continued, "I think it's you. You're the reason."

"How so?"

Abel shrugged his shoulders noncommittally. "How should I know? We're not friends," he quipped. "I'm just observant enough to notice that you've changed. You're not like before. You're…stuck."

Antonio's eyes focused just slightly. "Stuck?"

"That's what I said."

"But what does that even mean?"

"Not quite sure," he mumbled. "But it seems to fit."

Antonio bit his lip and looked away—doing so he caught a bright light flickering near the pile of clothes. His heart picked up when he realized it was his phone.

"Oh," he gasped, and quickly stumbled out of Abel's arms towards the edge of the bed. "That must be…" he whispered under his breath as he grasped the phone from the ground.

Lovino: I leave tomorrow at 9AM. Wear something warm. It's raining there too.

Antonio was so engaged, he didn't feel his lips split into a grin, or hear past the increasing beat of his heart. Because Lovino. It was Lovino. And they were to be together again tomorrow.

"Toni?" Abel interrupted, his voice mildly curious. "What are you smiling at?"

Antonio locked his phone. "Nothing," he replied giddily. "I just have to go." At once, he was at work collecting the scattered remains from the floor. In fast time he had his pants, socks and shoes on and was fumbling with his shirt buttons.

"You look…happy," Abel pointed out, and his words were very cautious. He stared at Antonio with distrust.

"When am I ever not happy?" Antonio jeered, and his eyes twinkled. Once he managed to button halfway he grabbed his jacket from the edge of the bed. Abel caught his arm there.

"I don't like this," he warned, and his face was hard. "You shouldn't depend so much on other people. It's not good."

Antonio laughed and tried to slide out of Abel's grip. He couldn't. "What are you talking about? I just like people. There's a difference."

"I know there is. But you fall on the other side, Toni. You shouldn't…need them so much. I don't understand why you do," he said, and let go of his arm.

Antonio rose up and put his jacket on. "Hm, and why do you care?"

Abel frowned. "I don't," he muttered. "But it's annoying as hell anyway."

"Well, we won't be seeing each other again, so you won't have to be bothered by that." Antonio flashed a smile, as he headed for the door.

Abel watched him, and suddenly the pieces fell together.

Antonio was closing the door when he heard Abel say:

"And don't rely on Lovino Vargas of all people."

The slam echoed in the empty hallway, and the words echoed in Antonio's head.

~/~

Nine in the morning exactly and a red Porsche pulled up near the curb. The weather was gray, bleak and chilly, and the car appeared like a blood drop on the snow.

Antonio was standing outside, dressed in a suit and coat. When the passenger window rolled down he saw Lovino's glaring brown eyes, and he couldn't control his heart from not skipping a beat. Gracefully, he opened the door and slipped onto the leather seat.

"Good morning," he announced cheerily. His eyes drank in everything about Lovino's face: what was familiar and what had changed. "How has your week been?"

"More of the same," Lovino answered easily. He shifted the car into drive, and they sped down the road.

"Ah, well, I suppose that's fine in its own way, no?" Antonio grinned, but he was met with a silent reply.

As they continued, typical highway noises interrupted the silence, but it wasn't enough for Antonio, so he bit his lip and talked.

"So, I've been having some very odd dreams lately. It's like each night I'm in a place I've never been before, with someone I can never seem to remember. The first night it was Istanbul, then Lisbon, then Rome, and yesterday it was Chicago. I can't remember last night's dream, but I'll let you know when I do," Antonio laughed and he drummed his fingers along the car door.

"Please do," Lovino muttered sarcastically. His eyes were light as they flickered from Antonio's face to the road. He was so calm and quiet, it put Antonio on edge. Why did he never start up a conversation?

"Oh, I also wanted to tell you about a restaurant I went to! It's near the gallery actually, and it's quite nice. A Thai place—I can't remember the name, but I'm sure Gilbert would remember."

"Probably."

"Did you know I found a leak in my living room? That's the fourth one I've found in two months. I feel like I need to get a carpenter or something to look at my house."

"Perhaps you should."

"Uuh," Antonio drawled, as his mind frantically searches for something, anything to say. "So it's been kind of lonely living at my apartment by myself. I've been thinking of adopting a pet; maybe a cat? I don't think I have enough time for a dog. But I also hear Chinchillas are fun pets. Do you have any opini—"

"Are you nervous or something?" Lovino interrupted, and his voice was caught somewhere in between amusement and annoyance.

Antonio chuckled. "Of course not! Why do you ask?"

"Because you're babbling like an idiot. You're not even talking about anything important."

"Oh, yeah. I guess not. I was just trying to keep a conversation going. You're so reserved."

Lovino eyed him carefully, then returned his attention back to the road. "I talk when I have something to say," he said. "I don't understand the need to ruin a perfectly good silence with just—anything that comes to mind. Feli does that too."

"I guess you're used to it then," Antonio said with a smile. "In my experience youngest siblings and only children tend to be the babbling types. Maybe we can't handle the silence."

"Actually, I think your type is just too dependent on people," Lovino retorted. "Feli's always been like that." He rolled his eyes and checked his mirrors again. After too many quiet seconds had gone by, Lovino was suspicious and looked over to the passenger side. "What is it"

Antonio was grinning at the glass of his window, and his eyes were glittering in something akin to wonder. "Nothing. It's just…that's the second time I've heard that this week."

Lovino raised a brow and faced forward. "It must be true then."

"I guess so."

~/~

The gala appeared to be an extraordinarily stately affair, nothing at all like the image Antonio conjured up during the ride over. Considering the way Lovino was, and what Lovino does and what he doesn't do, Antonio was expecting something more like the before of a classic James Bond murder. Something dark and glamorous with a lingering sense of illegal. But the reality couldn't be further from the imagination.

It was some sort of charity fundraiser; Lovino was a sponsor, and apparently was required to come as part of his position. The gala – truly more like a tea party – was hosted inside of a five-star hotel. There was going to be an auction of artwork later.

"Well, this is…nice," Antonio said as he looked around.

"Don't lie. I know it's boring. Why else would I have asked you to come?" Lovino replied, and he flagged down a waiter to signal for a drink.

"So I'm here to entertain you?" Antonio jeered with sparkling eyes.

Lovino grasped his mimosa and smirked. "You're here to keep me from scratching my eyes out."

Antonio raised his brows. "Well said."

And the two of them toured around the room, meeting and greeting strangers and old friends. Antonio was ready to be the snake charmer, and woo every man and woman in the crowd, but he had forgotten about Lovino's switch. Fast as a whip, the moment Lovino turned on his heel, he was the radiant light Antonio had been drawn to their first encounter.

"Miss Webb, you look so lovely. How are your children doing?"

"Jonathon, I saw your last piece in the magazine. I was blown away."

"Julia, that's such a beautiful dress. You need to meet my sister Felicia, you two would get along so well."

Were those even Lovino's words? Where did he find the energy to act like that? What power inside him was capable of imitating the sun? Antonio thought he was so much more like the moon.

"I thought you didn't like talking unnecessarily," Antonio whispered into Lovino's ear.

"You can't always do what you like. That would be indulgent," he murmured. And he struck a conversation with the old art collector from Charleston.

"I'll get us something to eat," Antonio said, and he strolled away from the chatter to the quiet murmurs of the buffet table. There was something pricking at his heart, but he was trying to ignore it. He focused instead on adding hors d'oeuvres on a small plate, and navigating through the line. He was so lost in his thoughts he didn't hear his name called, and it took a heavy tap on his shoulder to capture his attention.

Looking over his shoulder, Antonio saw someone he never expected to encounter ever again.

"Hello Toni," the man said, and God, was his voice always that deep?

Antonio gazed at him in a combination of wonder, awe, and fear, and really, the fear only existed because he realized he didn't have any. And that made him afraid.

"Sadik," the man prompted, "in case you couldn't remember. If I remember correctly, our encounter was fairly brief." His dark eyes sparkled as he gave Antonio a once over.

Instincts kicked in, and Antonio remembered to engage. "Oh, of course," he laughed and extended his free hand for a shake. "I'm sorry. I really didn't expect to see you here of all places. I thought you were in archit—"

"Architecture, yes. But I support this charity, and I thought I'd make an appearance," Sadik explained simply. "I'm more surprised to find you here. And on the arm of such a handsome little thing too. I'm quite curious who's escorting who here." He glanced in Lovino's direction and grinned.

Sadik's voice sent shivers down Antonio's spine, but the words struck a nerve. He found the strength to steel his eyes and say, "Don't talk about him like that."

"Oh?" Sadik mocked, and his tall figure loomed over Antonio. "And why not?

"He's too far above gossip," Antonio said, half-realizing how loyal the words sounded.

Sadik didn't appear to notice or mind, and chuckled, "Well, good thing we're not like that, right?" His dark eyes were close and forceful, and though he made no move to touch him, Antonio thought he was being groped already. "Would you like to come with me upstairs?"

Answer, answer, answer. But Antonio didn't know what to say? And why didn't he know? Why was this so hard for him? He didn't like Sadik…but…he still wanted to go. And why was that? Why—

"Excuse me, I don't think we've met," a smooth, oak voice interrupted. Antonio felt a gentle hand on his back, but it fled as soon as it landed. "I'm Lovino Vargas."

Sadik turned away from Antonio, to ogle Lovino standing to his left. He grinned automatically. "Sadik Adnan," he greeted, and shook hands. "It's a pleasure to meet you. I was just catching up with your friend here."

"I can see that," Lovino replied curtly, his eyes very sharp. "So how do you know Antonio? Business perhaps?"

"Ah, something like that. We had a short arrangement a while ago," Sadik answered easily, and his tone betrayed his delight. "Anyway, I still haven't said hello to some of the guests. It was nice to meet you, Lovino," he said, and his gaze slid over to Antonio. "And it was nice to see you again." Even his figure walking away emanated intimidation. Antonio pretended not to be impressed.

Suddenly, that gentle hand was on Antonio's arm, and changed to strong and tense. "What the hell was that?" Lovino demanded, his voice very low.

Antonio was caught off guard. He looked at him wide-eyed and said, "I don't know what you—"

"Bullshit. That's a lie. I could see your hands shaking from across the room," Lovino spat and his eyes flit all over Antonio's face. "Who the hell was that guy?"

The inappropriate response was to laugh, so of course that's what Antonio did. His gaze then fell to the plate of hors d'oeuvres he was collecting and he picked at them one by one. "He was, um, a client I had a while ago."

"A client?"

"Yes."

The wheels turned in Lovino's head. "But then why were you so afraid of...him…" his voice trailed off, and when Antonio met his gaze once again he saw that Yes, Lovino figured it out.

"Don't worry, I wasn't afraid. He was just saying hello. Nothing bad—" Antonio said hurriedly.

Lovino dropped his hand so that he could ball it by his side. "You're saying that he's the one that did that to you? All of those weeks ago?" he asked, and his voice was venomous. "And you fucking talked to him? Antonio, what the hell is wrong with you?"

Those pricking thorns got stuck near Antonio's heart again, but he tried to keep calm. "I didn't do anything wrong, I—"

"No, he's the one that did something wrong. You should be staying the hell away from him!"

"Lovino, you don't need to raise your voice," Antonio warned, and he looked around the room. A few people were watching them already. "Let's go outside for a moment."

Lovino opened his mouth to curse, but he saw the curious eyes as well, and instead turned on his heel with a huff. He led Antonio out the lobby door and onto the Boston sidewalk. It was a side street, so they walked a few paces down and it was fairly calm.

As Lovino swiped a cigarette from his pocket and made hard work at lighting it against the wind, Antonio said, "I don't understand why you're so angry. He walked up to me and talked, and what was I supposed to do? Not talk back?"

Annoyed with the wind, Lovino pulled the cigarette out of his mouth and turned to Antonio. His eyes were molten. "It's not that, you asshole."

Wow. Since when was Lovino's language so colorful? Was he really that angry? Antonio doesn't remember seeing him ever rise above room temperature.

Lovino stepped forward and poked Antonio's chest. "The fucking problem was that you forgave him. I saw it in your eyes."

"I did not—"

"I saw it!" Lovino yelled. He really was angry. "You're such a fucking idiot, Antonio. He…raped you, and you weren't even upset. And he comes back, and your hands are shaking, you're as pale as a sheet, but I saw it in your eyes—you wanted to go back to him again. I mean, that's—that's…"

"Idiotic? I know," Antonio laughed, but it was rough and harsh.

Lovino flinched, but didn't back down. "Then why the hell do you do it?"

"Because I'm dependent on people!" Antonio shouted, and he was so very close. "You're not the only one who's said it. I know it's true. I need people. I feel…empty without them. I am empty." His eyes glittered and they caressed the angles of Lovino's face so tenderly. "I'm not like you. I'm not that strong." His arms wrapped around Lovino slowly, but Lovino's body never softened.

"Is that what you think I am?" he asked, and his chin tilted, so that their breaths mingled.

Antonio tore his gaze away from Lovino's lips and looked up at his eyes. Those eyes. What he wouldn't give to be able to understand them.

Then Lovino stood up on his toes and pulled Antonio down by the collar. His lips brushed against the stubble of Antonio's cheek as he whispered, "If you think I'm strong, then you really are weak, you bastard." He didn't let the moment linger, and as soon as it was said, Lovino pushed away and started walking in the direction of the parking garage.

"Are you leaving?" Antonio demanded, his blood still too hot.

Lovino didn't bother looking over his shoulder as he flipped him off. He left Antonio alone on the sidewalk, at the gala, and in Boston. On the line between hate and love, Antonio wasn't so sure where he stood anymore. The thorns were scraping at his fury, and all he wanted to do was scream.

But there was no one to scream at, so all he could do was walk away. And God, did that hurt even more.

~/~

Time was always constant. It never stopped. It goes on, forever and so on. Antonio thought about that often, but when he stared at his dark phone in the corner of the room, none of that seemed to hold true. Time was cruel.

~/~

Time did allow for plenty of silence. So much that Antonio didn't know what to do with it. Since when was he surrounded by more quiet than people? It was unnerving being alone with just himself. All of the attention, and focus, and energy he had directed outwards—to his clients, his friends, and his lovers—it redirected inwards. He was alone with his head.

~/~

But no. God no. Dios, no. Antonio wasn't one for self-reflection, so he faced one of the tall blocks of marble and chose that To break the silence, and to free himself from his head.

~/~

And that got Antonio wondering.

Lovino was always on his own, and always in silence. So how did he deal with it?

~/~

The next thoughts made adrenaline pulse through his veins.

All of that passion, all of that intelligence, all of that hate and anger, curiosity, fear, imagination and sadness…did it ever leave his head?

~/~

And then Antonio was frantic, terrified, and so goddamn enraged with himself. He really was the idiot. How did it take him so long to see? And he called himself an artist. He couldn't see past the pretty colors of Lovino's eyes to understand what lied underneath.

Ring!

His phone tore his train of thought in two, but he jumped to answer it anyway. His heartbeat was too fast.

"Hello?" he answered, a bit out of breath.

"H-hello?" It was Felicia's voice: soft and scared.

"Oh, Feli. Why are you calling?"

"Um, sorry if I'm bothering you, Toni. It's been a long time since we talked. But I was wondering if you happened to hear from Lovi?"

He never wanted to hear those words strung together.

"Why?" Antonio choked.

"Well, I-I haven't seen or heard from him since yesterday afternoon, and it's already so late…"

Antonio checked the clock on his wall: it was half past nine. "Honestly, Feli, I haven't talked to him since the gala in Boston."

"Oh, really?" Feli said. She sounded genuinely surprised. "I mean, I guess that makes sense. He's been off since then, but…Toni. I know that Lovi does these things all the time, but I'm really, really worried. What if—I can't imagine if something—"

"Shh, it's okay, Feli. I know. I understand," Antonio murmured as calmly as he could. Swiftly, his brain worked, and he was running to grab his keys. "Listen, I have an idea. I'm going to go talk to someone who may know where he is. I'll keep you posted and let you know if I find out anything, all right?"

Feli whimpered, but replied a soft, "Okay."

So he hung up the phone to call another number.

Ring!

Ring!

Ring!

Rin—

"I thought we weren't seeing each other anym—"

"Abel," Antonio said. "You need to tell me if you know anything."

The line went quiet for several moments, and then a sigh followed. "I tried to warn you about him. I sure hope you haven't actually fal—"

"Abel, please!" Antonio snapped.

Another sigh. "Fine," he conceded. "You might as well jump in a taxi. You're going to need to go far."

Antonio was already flagging one down.

"And Toni," Abel added. "You're going to want to hurry. It's not a good area."

~/~

Why doesn't Lovino talk? Why was he always so reserved? Was it shyness? Arrogance? Reluctance to speak?

Not really.

Lovino was just locked inside of his own head, and his head was nowhere safe to be. Actually, it's the most dangerous place, because there are no limits. It's an infinity space where thoughts never die, never flee, and never leave him alone. There's only one track – a loop – and as Lovino stands too close to the edge of the road, his thoughts race by, two hundred miles an hour, and too violently loud in his ear. He can't escape it. How can he? Where's the emergency exit from one's own head? Perhaps if such a thing was included in the human design, Lovino wouldn't be in the same situation, over and over again. He wouldn't be in a motel, half naked, drunk, and surrounded by strangers.

"Lovino? Do you have some?" One of them asked. There's nothing descriptive about him.

The alcohol dulled Lovino enough so that he didn't care too much about the demanding tone. He just nodded and reached in his pant pocket. "Line it up," he ordered, and tossed the bag over.

The others didn't reply and got to work. Lovino sipped at his bottle of gin and ran his thumb over the bottle of pills in his other pocket. He licked his lips in anticipation.

"Ready," someone said. The other was already snorting a line.

Now functioning on habit, Lovino groggily sat up and leaned over the coffee table. He watched the others continue snorting cocaine, and his eyes felt glazed and faraway. He felt the eleven o'clock epiphany that this was his routine. This was his life. In a few minutes Lovino would get high, drink more, and have sex. Then he'd fall asleep from exhaustion, and in a few hours wake up in a start and taxi back home.

…

He wanted to find the emergency exit.

So he grabbed his gin and his shirt, and stumbled to his feet. Somehow he maneuvered himself out of the small party, and made it to the bathroom. He locked the door after himself, and fell to his knees near the tub.

One elbow leaned against the marble curve and tilted the gin back into Lovino's throat, and the other fetched the bottle of pills within his other pocket. Lovino set the gin down on the tile and uncapped the bottle. He dropped a handful into his palm, threw them back, and washed it down with gin.

"Lovino? Are you coming out of there?" a man slurred, and he pounded on the door.

"No," Lovino replied, and he washed down another handful. The gin tasted so sweet.

Something like a groan echoed, followed by some shuffling, and maybe the TV.

Lovino never minded. He was caught up in what he was doing. The power of the act sent a thrill through his veins. He couldn't stop. Pills. Gin. Pills. Gin. Would this work? Would this be the way out? Has he finally done enough? There were so many pills left, and it's terrifying to be able to see the end right in front of you.

Lovino poured another handful, he didn't know what number it was, and shakily pushed them onto his tongue. The last of his gin washed it down, and he grimaced when it was over.

"What am I doing?" he slurred, and dropped the empty bottle of gin on the tile. It rolled and rattled under the sink. He wished he had a cigarette. Wouldn't that be perfect right now?

He tried to ignore the ache in his lungs by listening to the murmurs of the TV, and watching a small spider crawl along the bathroom floor. He felt sorrow for his senses. To see be surrounded by the filth of the earth in the end—was it fitting or cruel? Doesn't matter. Lovino would take it anyway. He was in no position to decline. He couldn't put up a fight.

He was just done. He wanted to fade away.

At the thought, Lovino's hand searched blindly for the bottle of pills. Perhaps he could dry swallow the rest of them. But he was so clumsy, his coordination was so drunk, he ended up spilling it instead.

Another pound on the door. "Hey, Lovino. Someone in the hallway is looking for you. Should we let him in?"

Someone…looking for him? Who could it be? Who would know? "I—I," he stuttered, but his voice was too lazy. "I don't know."

Some whispers were exchanged outside, and then another one said, "Okay, we're just going to let him in, okay? He seems kind of antsy."

"Whatever," Lovino muttered, but he wasn't sure if he actually said it. He heard more commotion, but the task of picking up one pill was at the forefront of his mind, he couldn't be bothered to make out the words.

Then the banging returned, and this time it was loud, and desperate. The doorknob jiggled uselessly. "Lovino! It's me, Antonio! You need to open up, okay?"

Lovino had just managed to pick up a pill, but the sound of that voice—his voice—startled him. He dropped it and stared at the door. "Antonio?" he repeated quietly.

"Lovino! Please, open up! Feli's worried! And I'm terrified! I just need to know you're okay!"

"M' fine," Lovino replied, and he tried rolling to his knees. The image of Feli worried compelled a part of him to stand up and unlock the door: he had to prove that he was okay, at least for a moment longer. But standing was so hard. His knees were too weak, so he decided to crawl, bit by bit to the door, and with shaking, clammy fingers, he unlocked the door.

It didn't even take a second for it to be yanked open, and for Lovino to fall forward to the ground. His head hit the floor, and his body caved after him.

"Lovino, dios, no," Antonio cried, and he collected Lovino's body in his lap. "Are you okay? Mi corazon, lo siento. Lo siento. Are you okay?" His fingers threaded through Lovino's hair looking for injury, but there was no blood.

"M'fine," Lovino mumbled weakly. He couldn't even open his eyes. "But do you have a…a cigarette?" he asked, his voice growing softer and softer.

"What?" Antonio looked at him incredulously, afraid to be relieved just yet. And at that moment, his eyes found the bathroom floor. The gin bottle, the pills. He'd already seen the other liquor bottles strewn about the motel room, and all of the cocaine. What was Lovino doing to himself?

"Lovino," Antonio started again, and he was pinching Lovino's face, trying to keep him awake. "You need to tell me how many pills you swallowed. How many? Do you remember?"

"Mm," Lovino smiled. He felt so tired and faraway. "Not many, not many."

"Do you know a number?"

Lovino's eyes fluttered open just slightly, and he tried to reach out for Antonio's face. Antonio met him halfway and held his hand there. "I've swallowed more and survived. Don't worry so much. Don't worry…"

Antonio was closer. "What are you talking about? You've done this…" his voice stopped. And then he was crying. "Oh, Lovino."

"It'll be fine," Lovino whispered, and his eyes closed again. He dozed off in Antonio's arms with two questions in his head:

1. Was this the end of the pattern?

2. Would he ever get his cigarette?

~/~

When sleeping feels like drowning, it's not sleeping at all. Lovino oscillated all night. When he woke up, he woke up with a start: his heart racing, his breath gone, and his eyes wide open but utterly useless. He then felt a hand on his cheek and panicked, and tried to wrestle away, all to no avail. Whispers and murmurs tried to soothe him, but anything soft was confusing, and Lovino curled into himself, begging to fall back under. He wanted sleep to pull him back, but it only teased him, and he'd go through the ordeal all over again.

Eventually, after time ceased to matter, Lovino was released, and gently, he floated back to the surface. His eyes fluttered open to a dim room of familiar surroundings. Those paintings, that shelf, those covers—it was his room. But through the haze, Lovino's eyes slowly reached a figure that didn't belong. A man bent over the leather desk-chair, rumpled from hair to shirt to pants. His eyes weren't open, but his lips were tender with each sleepy breath.

Antonio. Antonio Carriedo. The artist. Lovino's artist. What was he doing here? What? Was there a reason?

Lovino's mind was groggy and stumbling to catch up to reality. Details were never his forte. But from the pound of his head, the upset of his stomach, and the aches all over his body…he had a few guesses as to what happened. And none of them were very good.

Lovino thought about lying in wait, he thought about catching Antonio's attention; he thought of a thousand ideas. But louder than any single one of them was that same instinctive, powerful voice that yelled Go.

And despite all of his fronts, Lovino was always one to do what he was told.

~/~

That feminine laugh, as sweet as raspberries and just as fresh. She said once, as she was laughing, "Antonio. Darling Antonio. You know how much I love you."

Drunk with too much wine, he smiled giddily at her.

"Oh, Antonio," she murmured, and her fingers slipped into his hair, loosening his curls. "Why do you do this to me? Hm? Why do you do this to yourself?"

He didn't have a reply, and instead chuckled and nuzzled the sheets.

"You don't need to come back to me anymore. You don't need to go back to anyone. Haven't you found someone important?"

And as her blue eyes grew dimmer, her voice faded.

"Toni," she whispered. "You're addicted, aren't you?"

…

Bells filled the air, but not the pleasant sort. Electronic, shrill bells filled the room and stunned Antonio's body. He woke up in a start, frantically searching for the noise. After three empty coat pockets, he found the phone, but the call had already ended. Antonio stared blankly at the screen.

Three missed calls from Feli.

For a moment, Antonio was mildly impressed he was able to sleep through two of those, but then his memories caught up with him and his eyes immediately darted to the bed. The sheets were rumpled. It was slept in. But it was empty. Lovino was gone.

Time evaporated into the atmosphere. Fast or slow didn't exist. Was there even sound? Or did that disappear too? Antonio felt as though he floated through the apartment when he was sure he sprinted. As he fled out the door and headed for the gallery he vaguely recalled jamming his finger sometime, somewhere. Pain doesn't exist either it would seem. But fear certainly does.

The void didn't last too long, however. As Antonio breached the gallery, time and sound returned in the form of heartbeats: fast and strong, measuring each step and each turn of Antonio's head.

Ten. Twelve. Fifteen. Twenty. Thirty. Forty. Stop.

The huddled figure in the corner of the gallery, by the window of a dawning sun: it was him. Fast steps closed the distance and Antonio stood a few feet away to see in relief that yes, it was Lovino. He was here. His eyes were open. He was still breathing.

"Jesus, Lovino," Antonio coughed, and bent over his knees to catch his breath. "You sh-shouldn't have left. You should've told me."

Echoes of Antonio's panting continued to wound the silence.

Then came Lovino's soft voice. "You were asleep."

Antonio rose up once again, and looked at him. Really looked at him.

Lovino was propped against the white wall, one leg folded and one leg down, his face turned towards the window, and all cloaked in shadows save for the few rays of sunlight that caught on the tearstains of his cheeks. Had he really cried though? The marks were there, but Lovino's face was so hard. So impenetrable. What sort of walls would Antonio have to scale to reach into his soul: to understand. They were so opposite…was it always this apparent?

Perhaps Antonio was always so intrigued by Lovino for that reason.

Antonio was the man with no defenses at all. He was an apple tree in an open pasture. Anyone could see him, greet him, or take him.

Lovino was the child who locked himself in the smallest room of the highest tower of the tallest castle. And he had dozens of guards.

But what was it all for? Secrets? Fear?

"Lovino," Antonio said, and he knelt right beside him. He caught the darkness haunting Lovino's eyes. "What's wrong?"

"What's wrong?" Lovino repeated dreamily. His lips turned up in a dry smile and he turned his gaze to the floor.

Antonio scratched his leg. "Is it—are you…depressed?" he asked a bit awkwardly. Then added, "Do you want to talk about it?"

Lovino appeared to be still pondering the first question. "I don't know," he finally replied. "I don't know what I am. But somehow, depressed doesn't seem to fit. It's—I don't know."

Antonio nodded slowly. "Well, how would you explain it? Not the scientific, or doctor's way. Just your way."

Lovino took a few steady blinks. "My way?"

"Yeah," Antonio encouraged. "Would you prefer if I went first?"

Lovino gave a curt nod and brought both knees to his chest. "Go," he ordered.

Antonio smiled and combed his curls. "Well, where to begin," he joked. "I guess, for me, everything begins with fear. I've always been so, so afraid. I've always been afraid to be what you want to be. Alone." He gazed at Lovino kindly. "I think I've always had an itch under my skin. I always feel…uncomfortable by myself. Empty maybe. And for that reason, I need people. I crave them. I love them. Each one has something I want, something I admire, something I adore. I tend to see good even in those that don't have any," Antonio laughed. "It's not a great thing, but I can't help it. I think I'm just addicted to humanity."

"I know that," Lovino scoffed. "It's obvious."

"I suppose it is," Antonio agreed. "But it's good to say it out loud sometimes." He stopped to see if Lovino caught the hint. No good. "But you know," Antonio continued, "you're an addict too. In your own way."

Lovino attempted to glare, but mild curiosity betrayed him.

"Car crashes, reckless spending, promiscuity, drugs…you want life to touch you, you want it to hurt you. I think you're craving feelings. You want to understand."

Lovino's fingers drew into his palm. "No," he said. "I don't care as much as you do. I don't think I like life like that. I…I just have this stillness in my heart. It's some sort of boredom—or apathy—and it's suffocating." Lovino's voice caught and he paused. Then, after licking his lips, he finished, "I feel as though I'm locked inside my head with no way out. And the view outside just gets foggier and foggier."

Antonio's eyes glistened and he reached for Lovino's hand. He held it tight. "Lovi," he murmured, and let his free hand travel to Lovino's cheek. "Is that why you're so reckless? Are you trying to hurt yourself?" He didn't dare say what he meant.

"I don't know. I don't know if I'm trying to," he replied, and shied away from the touch. "But my life doesn't mean much to me anyway. I've already come to terms with that."

"Lovino—"

"I think," he interrupted, "I'm going to kill myself one day. I don't know how, or when…but someday, something I do will work. And it'll be over." Lovino gazed at the statue, and the marble boy gazed back at him.

Antonio studied his face, and didn't let go of his hand. "Do you really want that?"

"I think that's what'll happen."

"But do you want that?"

Lovino sighed and turned towards the floor again. "I don't know. There's no reason for me to want it, but I don't feel as though there's a reason for me not to want it either. It just seems…inevitable."

"Don't you know how devastated people would be?" Antonio demanded, his voice lower than usual, and his eyes much keener.

Lovino pressed his lips together, slightly perplexed. "Feli would be sad. And nonno. And a few friends here and there. But they'll get over it. I know it." His voice was steady.

Antonio didn't let up. "What about your life? The things you haven't done? The things you looked forward to?"

The sun was lighting Lovino's face, and the tearstains were no longer there. "I just don't care," he replied. "I was born into money, I was raised with money, and I use money to fund my passion and my job. But my money can do without me. Feli is just as good, maybe better. I could leave a will, or a foundation," he explained plainly. "There's nothing about me that is necessary."

Antonio let out a short laugh. "That's not true," he said.

Lovino turned to him fast. "It's not?" he countered, and sparkles of white-gold danced in his eyes. "I don't have any talents. I don't care for the sciences, or math. And, though I loved it, I was never skilled at art. My writing is poor, and I'm too lazy to put in the effort of learning other skills." He stopped to catch his breath, then finished, "The only thing I can do is spend money. That's all I'm good at."

Antonio's smile never wavered, and he held tight of Lovino's hand. "You're wrong."

"What do you know?" Lovino snapped, though his voice was too weak to be forceful.

Antonio stared at him and his eyes were as dark and clear as emeralds. Like their first encounter, they traveled every inch of Lovino's skin, hoping to find the answer, the key, or the code, or the method. He might've just found it.

"Lovino," Antonio began, and caressed Lovino's face once again. "You are so, so wrong. And it's kind of ironic how wrong you are. You…are able to see others so clearly—you are able to grasp things so immediately—and yet you are still blind to yourself.

"Not everyone can see art," he explained. "Most people can look at art, sure, but only one out of a hundred knows what they're looking at. And it's even rarer to find someone who cares." Antonio could feel a small flicker of heat under his hand and he smiled. "You understand art, and you understand artists too. You have taste, you have opinions. And you appear to think that that's common and replaceable, but it's not. Art is so delicate. It's so easily forgotten, mistreated, or overlooked. It's so easy for a great artist to be left behind. Most of the time, it's by some stroke of luck that an artist even makes it to the textbook."

Lovino's eyes shined, so he closed them.

"You're someone who protects artists. You keep them going," Antonio said, and his voice sounded so certain. "I think it's beautiful, Lovino. Everything that you do is so beautiful. The way you pick out a suit, the way you fawn over Felicia, the way you scold Ludwig. Even the small things: like your habit of licking your lips, or your concentrated stride, or—or your blush," he exclaimed and rubbed his thumb over Lovino's cheek affectionately.

"Shut up," Lovino ordered belatedly. His eyes altered from the floor to anywhere else.

Antonio chuckled, and directed Lovino's eyes to him again. "I told you once that people and art are the most interesting things in the world to me. And I still believe that they're deeply intertwined. And I think I've never met anyone more so than you."

Lovino glared at him. "Don't romanticize me. I am not art. I'm anything but. I'm—"

"I'm not romanticizing you," Antonio said quickly. "I'm not romanticizing your pain, or your darkness. There's nothing beautiful in your misery, Lovino. I know that. And I wish so much I could take it away." Antonio leaned closer and their noses brushed for a moment. "But you aren't your pain. And what you are—you're everything," he breathed, and it sounded like relief. "God, that's just it. That's why. That's why I can't read you, or understand you. It's why I can love you so much, and find the heart to hate you too. I feel so much when I'm around you, more than ever before. And when I leave, I don't know what that makes me. I—I don't know what I am without you. I'm nothing. I've never been anything. I create to fill the void I've always had, but you…" his voice trailed off and he pressed his lips to Lovino's cheek. "You. Are. Everything."

Lovino's eyes widened and he was greeted with all of the sun's strength. He felt Antonio's strong arms around him, and was pulled into an embrace. He couldn't stop crying.

"Damn it," he mumbled, as tears slipped past his lips. "I-I don't want to cry, I—"

"I know," Antonio murmured. "But I understand. And love it anyway."

"N-no, that's not," Lovino grabbed at Antonio's shoulder and tried to catch a breath. "Y-you…you are everything. Y-you are. I've a-always known it. Y-you're life."

Antonio laughed and rubbed at Lovino's back. "And if we're both everything, what does that make the rest of the world?"

Lovino sighed under his breath and stifled another hiccupping cry. He pulled away to stare at Antonio with watery, unsteady eyes.

"Well?" Antonio prompted.

More tears spilled over Lovino's eyes, and he hid himself away in the crook of Antonio's neck. "Horrible," he whispered, and his voice was broken. "The world is horrible." His fingers clawed and gripped tighter. "It's just so goddamn horrible Antonio, I can't take it."

Antonio listened carefully, and was quiet afterwards to collect his response.

The dawn winked at them. The sun always chose the worst moments.

"The world isn't kind. Least of all to those who really need it," Antonio murmured. "But I don't think the world is as horrible as you think. If a place can produce art, there must be something good, right?"

Lovino conceded a sigh, and his hands eased. "How am I going to make it?" he mused.

"The only way any of us make it: with help."

"Yeah."

"I want to help you, Lovino. I want to help you so much."

"I know."

"And I will be there for you. You won't be able to push me or Feli away, although you may try."

"I know."

"But," Antonio said, and he pushed Lovino forward so their eyes met. "You will be alone, Lovino. Because in the end, we're all alone. So, you may find yourself walking home after getting dinner with me, and suddenly, your head sinks to your lowest thoughts. You may be waiting at the subway, and the gust of the wind in the tunnel rustles your hair as you stare at the train tracks."

Lovino's eyes narrowed and he wondered if Antonio knew, or was just guessing.

Antonio squeezed his shoulders and continued, "And I can't stop you from thinking those things. I can't broach your mind. As if anyone could." He smiled slightly, and ran his thumb over Lovino's cheek. "All I want you to do, when you're in that place is think about changes. About how the rain always stops. The clouds always flee. The night always comes. And the stars are always there.

"And if you're stuck in the darkness, remember that the sun always returns. Winter has a beginning and an end. And spring always follows," Antonio explained, his voice gentle. "The bad days will make the good ones shine brighter, you know. Just remember that until I find you again."

Lovino looked at him, his eyes no longer watery, shaky, and afraid. He felt melancholy, down to the bone, and this time he accepted it.

"Can you promise me that?" Antonio asked, and his hands held Lovino tight and desperate.

The memory of hope compelled Lovino to say the word, "Yes." And he meant it.

Antonio's eyes glittered and he leaned close to pepper Lovino's face with kisses, and embrace him closer and more dearly than before. They were together, and they loved each other; Lovino could feel it, and he could admit it.

But as he kept inhaling and learning Antonio's paint and floral scent, he wondered:

Will I ever learn to breathe in the atmosphere? Or is the air simply too heavy for me?

Antonio whispered something in his ear and kissed the corner of his lips.

Lovino closed his eyes and replied, "I love you too."

...

And the day went on.

~/~

*laughs* Well, I'm back? I...I...I am not going to explain here. I don't think anyone would want that. But, I extend my sincerest apologies. I'm so, so, sorry.

If anyone waited patiently for the completion of this story, you deserve gold stars and hugs. I've been too bothersome.

I hope the end result wasn't a disappointment. I followed the original idea to the end.

Thank you all for reading. And to those who encouraged me this semester, I wouldn't have come back to this story if it weren't for you guys. Thank you. I'd love to hear final thoughts on the story, so please leave a review if you can.

Thanks again :) You're all lovelies.