/This is version 2 of the Prologue, created on November 1st 2015/

The day was like any other, Antonio lounging on the grey couch, waiting for Lovino to come home while the television droned on, completely ignored. It was turned to some historical documentary or another, but Antonio was lost, staring out the window into the clear, blue cerulean sky. People came and went on the pavement, cars drove by, and Antonio waited.

When Lovino finally returned, he came with a question on his lips and an expectant look on his face, which was perfectly, completely average. The only real difference from the absolute norm was the question itself, "What were you like as a teenager?"

Everything crashed down inside of Antonio's mind, the cars stop moving, the sky turns a bloody red, and the people's faces morph into those that had always terrorized him in a singular moment. And when that moment passes, and the sky returns to cerulean, and the cars move again, all he could say is, "I don't want to talk about it."

The words themselves are blank and cold, lonely and empty, like a piece of white paper left on the kitchen counter. It was soothing, comforting to Antonio. He found solace in the lonely words. Lovino, on the other hand, was not pleased with this answer, if it could be called an answer at all. He repeated the question in the same stubbornness that he had always been known for, only to meet the same answer time and time again.

Antonio refused to talk, and Lovino stormed away. That beautiful, cerulean day had ended with slammed doors on opposite sides of the hall and broken sobs from the one room it would not be expected from.

The next day, Lovino was just as determined for answers. And if Antonio won't give it to him, then surely there was someone who would, not his friends, surely, but someone who lived to do exactly what Antonio wouldn't want, someone who grew up alongside him as a bitter rival. Arthur Kirkland.

With this in mind, he packed up his stuff and set out for the Eyebrow Bastard's house, determined to get those answers that he sought. It doesn't take long to arrive, and even less time for Arthur to open the door.

"What in the bloody hell do you want?" Arthur asked, a caterpillar raised.

"What was Antonio like as a teenager?" he asked, his voice tough and demanding, though he was quite nervous.

"Why don't I show you?" Arthur responded with a sly, chilling smirk. Lovino felt as though he should run, but then the world turned black as pitch and he felt the strangest sensation of falling.