III.
It had been almost two, three weeks, since Lovino started working as a waiter for The Bar and somehow, he had gotten used to the lifestyle.
He had gotten used to sleeping most of the morning then waking up in the afternoon to work on some school projects and unfinished paintings.
Then, early in the evening, Lovino would get ready for work. He had already gotten used to the white buttoned-up shirt and black vest that comprised his uniform (but he would never ever get used to that fucking bowtie that seemed so intent on strangling him).
Lovino had also gotten used to Feliciano observing him closely as he prepared for work, asking so many questions. "Are you sure you're fine with this job? You're always out so late at night, fratello!" Feliciano would ask every single night. And Lovino would automatically answer, "Yes, I'm fine, Feli. Besides, winter break's almost over anyways; I'll quit my job once school starts."
(Honestly, Lovino didn't mind Feliciano's persistent questions that much. He knew he'll miss the company once Feli went back on tour again.)
Lovino wasn't jarred anymore, when he reported for work, by the bright lights and loud sounds of the nightclub, the crowd of people pressed together dancing to one beat, the scent of liquor and cigarette smoke in the air. His senses had gotten used to those by now.
Without even thinking about it, Lovino would approach Gilbert, wherever the bastard was, as soon as he stepped inside. Gilbert, with a smirk and a playful slap on his arse (Lovino swore he would never fucking get used to that, goddammit.), would inform Lovino of his duties for the night.
And as Lovino busied himself with work, he had learned to catch himself when he found himself watching Antonio by the bar, mixing cocktails skillfully, never without that carefree smile on his face.
(But sometimes, Lovino would find himself still watching, and staring. Because there were just some things you couldn't help doing.)
Lovino sat by a table near the bar, wiping a rag on the table absentmindedly.
Only a few customers remained now, most of them female customers who were standing by Antonio, chatting with him as he made them some drinks.
You see, Lovino, Antonio's not attracted to the opposite sex.
So what? Lovino didn't fucking care. He didn't care, didn't care, didn't care.
"You don't care about what?"
Fuck. Was he saying that out loud?
Lovino turned. Gilbert stood behind him, with a grin and several cans of beer in his arms.
"N-none of your fucking business, idiot." Lovino stammered out.
"I see. Still harboring feelings of jealousy after all this time, huh?" Gilbert teased. He sat down beside Lovino and pushed a can of beer towards him. "Here. Drink to your sorrows or something like that."
Lovino eyed the can suspiciously. "Is it alright? I mean, I'm technically still at work."
"So?" Gilbert was already chugging a beer, his feet resting on another nearby chair. "If the awesome co-owner of this bar says you can drink then you fucking can. Cheers!"
The next thing Lovino knew, he was flirting with this lady with alluring blue eyes and a sexily husky voice. He also vaguely remembered kissing another lady with an amazingly-gifted bosom.
Gilbert was hooting behind him, empty cans of beer littered all over their table.
And Antonio, Lovino could see from the corner of his eye, watched them while wiping his work counter clean, an amused smile playing on his lips.
(Lovino would later wonder about this, but at that moment, he wanted so hard for Antonio to show some other expression other than a fucking smile. Something much more violent, like annoyance perhaps, or something like…jealousy.)
Lovino flinched as Antonio held an ice pack to the quickly-coloring bruise on his cheek.
Antonio chuckled. "You should've asked her first if she was taken before kissing her."
"It didn't fucking enter my mind, okay?" Lovino snapped, annoyed both at said lady's boyfriend punching his face and Gilbert's hearty roar of laughter afterwards.
They sat quietly in the empty locker room for a while, as Antonio patiently held the ice to Lovino's cheek. Every now and then, Antonio would punctuate the silence by humming a cheery tune unfamiliar to Lovino's ears.
Lovino wrung his hands on his lap, suddenly feeling very uncomfortable. "Why didn't you do anything?"
"Hmmm?"
The words spilled out of Lovino before he could stop them (damn that alcohol). "Francis, he said I-I'm more than just interesting for you. Well, if that's true then why didn't you do anything while I was kissing that girl? I mean, her boyfriend fucking punched me in the face because I was kissing his girl. Why didn't you…why didn't you feel…" Lovino looked down on his hands, still firmly clasped on top of his lap. "J-just forget this, okay? I don't fucking know what I'm saying."
"What did you want me to do?"
Lovino looked up. He wondered when Antonio's face grew that husky, or when and how did his face get so fucking near?
Then, before Lovino fully realized what was happening, Antonio brushed his lips against Lovino's.
It was almost a kiss but it was, in no way, a kiss. It was full of hesitation, as if Antonio didn't know whether he was doing the right thing or not. It drove Lovino crazy.
Before Antonio could move away, Lovino pulled him back and kissed him furiously. Now, this kiss was nowhere near perfect; it was messy, off-center, raw.
Lovino never realized he wanted this, needed this badly. Not until now.
It was a night of contradictions.
As they lay intertwined, bare and naked, on the cold stone floor, Lovino felt that he had never been this warm in his life.
And as Antonio moved, discovered every part of his body, every minute detail, every filament of his being, Lovino felt that all that they had discovered of each other from all their nightly conversations by the vending machine was nothing compared to this night.
Lovino had never felt this intimate to someone, this exposed.
And as he watched Antonio sleep beside him, arms wrapped protectively, almost possessively, around him, as he listened to his own heart ramming painfully against his chest, Lovino wondered if it was possible to hope something would never end, and regret that it ever even happened.
We know, as sensible human beings that not all we desire will eventually be given to us in our lifetime, at least not without sacrificing something in return. So when we do get these desires, easily at that, we always assume that it's all too good to be true. It can't be true, it's just a dream, a wild fantasy, an alcohol-induced illusion.
(Maybe because, once faced with the realization of this desire, we are not sure, never sure if this is what we wanted after all.)
Lovino woke up that morning, fully expecting last night to be just a dream.
It wasn't.
Lovino ran out of the nightclub, out into the snow-covered streets. He planned on running away, running running running.
But luck didn't side with him.
His foot landed on a particularly slippery patch of ice on the street (he wondered how it got there, dammit) and he would have skidded down the path if he hadn't clung on a street post for dear life.
He could hear footsteps from behind him, faster and faster then coming to a halt several distances behind him.
"Lovino!"
"L-last night," Lovino said breathlessly, "was just a lie."
He could hear Antonio exhale sharply behind him. "Why…how-"
Lovino felt his hands shaking; he clung to the post more tightly. "Because I was fucking drunk, okay? I'm sure I didn't know what I was doing because I was so fucking wasted." Lovino heard himself laugh, hollow, forced, almost hysterical. "I mean, there's no other reason. Last night wouldn't have happened if I wasn't drunk, I'm sure of that."
"But it wasn't a lie to me."
Lovino whipped his head back sharply. Antonio stood behind him, looking forlorn, almost helpless.
"W-what do you mean?" Lovino asked softly.
"Because," Antonio took a deep breath. "…I love you."
Lovino felt his chest tightening, felt his breath rush out of him. No, no, no, Antonio was lying, it can't be true.
Lovino did what he always did at a time of deep crisis; he ran away, stumbling down the snow-covered path.
Antonio walked back to the vending machine. It was what he did, every night, ever since he arrived here in this town and started living near the park.
All Antonio used to do when he passed by the vending machine was buy a drink, observe his surroundings until he finished his beverage and then walk away. All that changed when he met Lovino.
Now, every single night, Antonio could look forward to seeing Lovino's brightly flushed face, to hearing him talk animatedly about his day (though their conversations was always peppered with curses), to just being with him.
Antonio didn't know if he could still look forward to that now. Maybe he shouldn't have said anything, maybe, if he hadn't said anything, nothing would've changed. He shouldn't have yearned for anything more from Lovino than friendship. But he had, and now everything was gone.
Antonio reached the vending machine. There was a sign hanging from it: Out of Order; Under Maintenance.
The vending machine was broken, just like his heart.
"But, fratello, why did you run away?"
Lovino had reached his apartment, his whole body shaking, tears streaking down his face. He must have looked like such a mess, because Feliciano panicked when he saw him.
He pulled Lovino quickly towards his bedroom and made him sit down on the bed. Then, after bringing in two cups of steaming hot tea, he made Lovino narrate everything that happened, right from the start.
"But fratello," Feliciano insisted again, "why did you run away?"
Lovino stared down at his tea. "I-I don't know."
Why indeed? Was he scared? Yes, he was scared. But why? Was he scared to fall in love with Antonio because…because he was not someone of the opposite sex? But then, why was he so scared to fall in love with a man? It can't be because he was scared of burning in hell for eternity; he can't be scared of hell anymore, not after all that he had done in his life.
Was he scared because Antonio fell in love with him after such a short time? Because a love like that can't be true; hell, his family had known him ever since he was born but they hadn't really shown their love for him (well, that is, except Feliciano). If they couldn't bring themselves to appreciate him, even while being around him right from the start, then how can someone who've just met him barely a month ago just…fall in love with him?
Or was he simply scared to fall in love?
"Lovi" Feliciano interrupted his thoughts gently.
"Feli," Lovino tried to stop his voice from shaking; he didn't want to worry his brother even further. "What should I do?"
"What do you mean 'what should I do?"" Feliciano replied, "You've already made a choice by running away. I mean, how else do you think will Antonio interpret that?"
"But, Feli, what if I made the wrong decision. I mean, I panicked when he suddenly confessed to me. I honestly thought he was just fooling around with me because it can't be true! But now…what if I was wrong after all?" Lovino buried his face in his hands. "I fucking don't know anything about this love thing! How did you know that you were in love? That that potato bastard really loved you?"
Feliciano giggled. "It's the first time you've ever acknowledged that Ludwig loved me! I'm so happy, fratello. But, when I first found out that Ludwig was in love with me, I probably looked like you too: an absolute mess. I was all alone, which made things even worse. But then I realized, Ludwig made me happy. And I wanted to make him happy too. And I soon realized that all I had to do to make him happy, to make myself happy, was to give this love Ludwig offered me a chance."
"I told Antonio once that I wanted him to make you happy forever." Feliciano looked at Lovino intently. "But, Lovi, how is he going to do that if you don't let him? How is he going to do that if you don't give him a chance, if you're so intent on mistrusting him right from the start?"
Lovino arrived at The Bar early in the afternoon the next day.
Francis and Gilbert were there, sitting on one of the tables near the middle of the room. They were having a rather serious conversation and didn't notice Lovino until he was right beside them.
"Oh, you're rather early today." Francis said with a small smile. Lovino couldn't help noticing that Gilbert pointedly ignored him.
"I have something to give you." Lovino handed Francis a white envelope. Francis raised an eyebrow and quickly opened it.
"You're resigning." Francis said, his eyebrow still raised at Lovino. "Don't tell me this is because of your tiff with Antonio."
"It's not because of that." Lovino shrugged. "Winter break's almost ending and I won't be able to work here anymore, not with school and all that."
Francis sighed. "First a bartender and now a waiter. How are we going to keep this business going, Gilbert?"
"Wait." Lovino interrupted. "A bartender? Antonio resigned too?"
"Don't act like you fucking care!" Gilbert spat out. "You fucking broke his heart yesterday!"
Lovino opened his mouth to reply but Gilbert cut him off. "Yes, I know. I saw you two out there yesterday."
"Look," Lovino said helplessly. "Don't fucking confront me anymore about this okay? I don't know anything about this fucking thing called love!"
"Then, you've come to the right place." Francis replied smoothly. "You see, I consider myself quite an expert when it comes to love."
(Lovino couldn't help noticing Gilbert rolling his eyes behind Francis.)
Lovino pulled a chair beside them. "Then explain this fucking thing to me."
"I would if we had the time." Francis replied. "But you see, Antonio's leaving for Spain soon. Like really soon. Like right now."
"Right now?" Lovino jumped up. "How the fucking hell did that happen?"
Gilbert tried to say something but Francis clapped a hand to his mouth. (Lovino wondered what that was all about).
"Well," Francis said dramatically, "what do you expect? You broke his heart, what else does he have to live for here?"
"B-but, he can't!" Lovino spluttered out. "Not before I figure out this whole fucking thing!"
"Look," Francis told him. "it's simple, okay? If you think you can imagine life without Antonio then good for you! Antonio was wrong in thinking his feelings had a chance. But if not then-"
"-what the hell, are you still doing here?" Gilbert finished from behind Francis. "Run after him, kid!"
Francis spinned an empty bottle of beer on the table. "I see, you're starting to get more perceptive, Gil."
"Look," Gilbert said. "I don't know why the hell you told Lovino that but I do hope you know what you're doing."
"Of course I do!" Francis said with a smile. "I'm quite the expert in love, after all."
It was only when Lovino was out in the streets that he realized that he didn't know where the hell he was supposed to go.
His feet pushed him on, led him on unconsciously, until he was standing in front of a familiar bright-red structure.
It was the vending machine. Lovino read the sign hanging from it; it was out of order.
"Goddammit!" Lovino punched the vending machine, over and over again, until his hand throbbed painfully, until his eyes watered.
Goddamn Antonio! Goddamn Antonio for always making him jealous, for kissing him crazy, for making love with him in way he could never ever forget, for confessing to him unexpectedly, then suddenly leaving him all alone with all these confusing feelings bubbling inside him.
Goddamn himself, Lovino thought. For not realizing that when someone confesses to you, all the doubts inside your head should just fly out of the window, that it if someone confesses to you then you should just believe.
Goddamn himself for not realizing that he actually did love Antonio, that he probably did love him from the start. But how was he supposed to fucking know, when he had never felt like this before?
And now it was too late. Antonio was gone and Lovino was left with nothing but an extremely painful hand and a lot of conflicting feelings.
"Lovino!"
Lovino froze. Before he could turn back, Antonio was beside him, taking Lovino's hand in his own.
"What did you do to your hand?" Antonio exclaimed. It was only then that Lovino realized that his hand was actually bleeding.
"We have to go and get your hand treated." Antonio tried to pull Lovino along but Lovino stopped him.
"Goddamn you!" Lovino tried to punch Antonio but his hand fell weakly on Antonio's shoulder instead. Lovino grabbed Antonio's shirt instead, hanged on for dear life.
"Goddamn you!" Lovino tried to stop himself from crying but it was no use; the tears just started falling down uncontrollably. "Why are you fucking going to Spain? After you confessed to me, after everything-"
"But Lovino," Antonio interrupted, chuckling. "I'm not going anywhere."
Lovino stared at Antonio. "You're not?"
Antonio shook his head. "I'm not. I don't know where you got the idea but I'm not."
"B-but, Francis, Gilbert…goddammit." Lovino spluttered out several Italian curses as the realization slowly dawned on him. "They fucking tricked me."
Antonio laughed. "Look, I know the vending machine's broken but you shouldn't have punched it. Look, your hand's all wounded now."
Lovino wiped his tears with the back of his uninjured hand. "Don't fucking treat this as a joke! I-I honestly thought that you were leaving…that I won't be able to tell you-"
Lovino's voice drifted away into silence.
"Tell me what?" Antonio asked softly.
"T-that I, that I…" Lovino looked down, blushing furiously. "Dammit, this is hard for me okay? But I-I think, I like you too."
"You do?" Antonio beamed at Lovino.
"Don't fucking look at me like that!" Lovino spluttered out, even more embarrassed. "But I swear, you fucking gave me a lot of problems. You shouldn't have kissed me first before confessing to me, for one thing. Learn to do things in the proper order, you idiot!"
Antonio grinned at him. "But it's not too late to start all over again, is it? Properly, this time."
He let go of Lovino's hand then held out his own hand to Lovino. "The vending machine's broken so would you like to have coffee with me at the café round the corner instead? It's a nice start in my opinion."
It was, Lovino had to agree. And Lovino knew, as he took Antonio's hand, that he was agreeing to more than just an afternoon over coffee. No, he was agreeing to give this new feeling called love a chance.
end
End Note:
So ahem. This fic. Took me a total of four freakin' months to write this. It was difficult and all and honestly, I felt like giving up halfway through. But I finished it and I'm glad I did. This is my longest fanfic for any fandom so far and I can't help but feel proud \o/. Hope you guys like this even if it's slice-of-life-ish and kinda plain and a little plotless(?) orz;.