Kitty: All right. This was another chapter long in the coming. Crap. I'm so slow. I was sitting in Beijing Capital Airport writing this author note. So cool. Now, however, I'm in Korea. =w=b

… this took WAY too long to write when, as soon as I sat down, I finished it in one night. Bloody hell.

Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia. Rated M for adult content, including language and situations. Beware the angst. It begins.

Seven Sins

Chapter Four

Gluttony

Have you ever been so hungry that your belly seemed to gnaw on itself, growling and demanding for anything? Or so hungry that you never wanted to stop eating? Just putting a piece of gum in your mouth made you salivate like eating the sweetest dessert. Or maybe… have you ever been hungry for one specific thing? No matter what you ate in its stead, it wasn't enough. You still felt hungry for that one thing and nothing was satisfying until you had it? You craved and craved, and maybe you finally got it. That first bite was like the sweetest rapture and everything was sublime and perfect in the world with each bite. But then, it's gone. And you're still hungry for more. Maybe it'll take two or three more times before you're finally satisfied.

But what if, no matter how many times you had it, it still wasn't enough? You were still so damn hungry for that thing.

Antonio felt that hunger. Each time he looked at Lovino, each stolen kiss that was sweeter than the last, with every word burned into his mind, with every touch branded on his skin. Still he wanted- no, needed more. He didn't want their clandestine meetings, their hidden words and touches. He wanted to walk down the street with Lovino in the middle of the day, holding hands, laughing with him, smiling at him, and it would be all right. He wanted to tell everyone about this fabulous person he had managed to find, to catch, to keep all to himself.

He couldn't. Every time the urge struck him, he would have to rein it in. He had reined it in so deeply, so tightly, it physically hurt when he thought about it. He hated that it was something wrong, something secret. Antonio didn't do secrets. He was terrible with secrets. He hated lying and everything about their relationship was a lie.

Except for those silent moments when Antonio looked at Lovino and finally admitted the truth. He was falling hard for Lovino and there was no stopping it. Even the stupidest things, even the things that managed to irritate Antonio, had him falling more and more in love with the sassy, foul-mouthed Italian. He had no idea how he managed to get Lovino into his bed (or, well, vice versa), but that's where he wanted Lovino to stay.

Antonio leaned back against the iron railing of his balcony, petting the cat that often came by and frowning a bit.

It was getting harder to be around Lovino. He didn't like to admit it, but it was true. There were so many things he wanted to talk about, to ask Lovino, but he was worried about saying the wrong thing and losing the tenuous relationship they had.

He also hadn't met up with Bella in weeks. She texted him now and then, but he managed to evade meeting with her this entire time. It made his gut burn and left him feeling rather sick and dirty. Lyinglyinglyinglies. The idea of speaking to anyone was becoming disgusting to him. How could he look anyone in the face and pretend he was the same man he was just barely two months ago? How could he pretend he wasn't having an affair with his friend's boyfriend? How could he pretend he wasn't aching, wasn't dirty, wasn't lying? He woke up sweating and muscles tight too many times to count, nightmares of accusing eyes and whispers. He hadn't spoken to his family in weeks, sure they'd hear it in his voice, sure he'd give it away. He never had been good at keeping secrets, especially not with Mama.

He had to get out of here. He had to get out of this apartment. Lovino was in every corner. And yet he wasn't and that made it worse. Antonio hated how Lovino haunted him, how much he needed and wanted Lovino there, despite everything. He was cracking. The past three days he hadn't opened his post, hadn't checked his email, hadn't answered his phone unless it was Lovino's name. Antonio hadn't even opened the door for anyone who knocked. Lovino had long had the spare key, so he never knocked anymore.

Antonio all but jumped to his feet, pacing the floor and running his hands through his hair. Where could he go? Where could he lose himself for just an hour? Just laugh and joke and be all right again?

In a flash, a mischievous smile and gentle brown eyes leapt into his mind. Maybe it wasn't exactly divorcing himself from Lovino, but Caffé Rosso just seemed like the only place to go. He shoved his feet into his sandals, not even caring what he was wearing, and ran out the door, only taking time to grab his keys, though he forgot to lock the door behind himself. Thanks to his out-of-character hermitage, he never saw the emails waiting for him. He never saw the letter near the bottom of the pile of unopened mail.

.

Antonio was at Caffé Rosso without even realizing he'd walked that far. Time was becoming faulty now. Not that he had ever been great at keeping track of time or even caring, but now hours would pass without him even remembering what had happened. The café was filled with people, all getting late lunches or early dinners, a glass of wine or a cup of espresso at every table. The smell of cheese, olive oil, and tomatoes made his stomach rumble and he realized he hadn't yet eaten that day. No… that wasn't good. How long had he been sitting on his balcony with that cat?

"Heya~ Antonio, right? Haven't seen you around in a while," a cheerful, feminine voice chirped from just a little to his right. Antonio turned, blinking rapidly, and saw Felicia manning the hostess podium. Her sparkling brown eyes suddenly darkened as her brows lowered. "Antonio, are you all right? You seem a little out of it," she inquired, her voice now concerned.

Antonio grinned wide and goofy. "Yeah, well, that's me. A total space case. I'm totally starving. Is there any room for me?"

"Of course there is! You're a friend of my uncle! Feli would actually scold me if I made you wait or let you leave without letting him know. Why don't you go upstairs and relax and I'll tell Feli you're here? I'll bring you up something delicious," Felicia offered brightly.

"Anything from Feliciano's kitchen would be delicious. I would really appreciate it. I'm not here for a free meal, though. I'll pay," Antonio told her quickly. Felicia shook her head.

"I'll leave that to uncle to decide. Just to warn you, though, I doubt he'll let you pay. Especially not when you're looking… well… like… this," Felicia murmured, eying him once more with her worried gaze. Antonio looked down and blushed beet red. Suddenly he wished he'd cared more about what he was wearing. He'd left his house in his paint shorts and an old, dirty tank top, long stained by sweat and grass. He was pretty sure the tank top was from his football days in high school.

"Right… I'll just go up before all the other Italians in here notice me…" Antonio muttered. Felicia giggled.

"I think table five is mentally burning you in effigy. Run for it, love," she suggested with a wink. He grinned at her and backed out of the building. Taking the fire escape up to the second floor seemed like the better idea than cutting across the crowded restaurant.

The glass door leading from the balcony into the little kitchenette was thankfully unlocked- and also left ajar. Most likely, Feliciano left it open to keep the air fresh; being right above a restaurant tended to leave Feliciano's apartment stuffy and in a perpetual state of cooking pasta, otherwise. Antonio glanced around, noticed its spic-and-span interior, and grinned guiltily. Lovino hadn't been by his flat in a while, so his own home was a total wreck. Seeing such a tiny, adorable apartment so well kept made him once again mentally promise to take better care of his own. He liked walking into a clean home, really. He just never bothered to do it often enough.

He brewed up some espresso, filled a mug with hot water to make his lazy version of an Americano before flooding it with milk and sugar, and then threw himself on Feliciano's couch. As he wondered what sort of present he could get Feliciano for exchange, since Felicia was right and Feli probably wouldn't let him pay for dinner or the coffee he'd just helped himself to, he realized something.

He felt… better.

Antonio hadn't even seen Feliciano and he already felt better. There was something soothing and calm about Feliciano's apartment. Maybe it reminded Antonio of his mother- that was probably it. The knickknacks on almost every surface, fresh flowers in the kitchen, the smell of coffee and cleaning agents, the soft, brightly-covered upholstery, and the rosary on the bookshelf. Antonio frowned at the rosary just as he noticed it. It made sense for his mother, a very devout Catholic woman, to keep a rosary in the living room where she often read at night. But why did Feliciano still have one? Antonio couldn't even remember where his was and he had been the one in denial all these years.

Which, of course, he had been.

Antonio sighed and gripped the coffee mug between his hands.

"One of these days, you're going to realize that you're just a bloody idiot, Antonio. You're a scared little Catholic boy, aren't you? Too scared to be different, to be yourself. You're going to wake up and realize it and it's going to be too fucking late. I never thought I'd be disappointed in you. I thought you were better than that. But no, you're just a fucking wanker like almost every other man I've met. I'm not here to be a cheap lay, you tosser!"

Antonio curled over, groaning softly. He pressed his forehead to the lip of his coffee mug, breathing in the intoxicating smell of it.

He didn't want to remember! What was it about Lovino that made every demon in Antonio come to the surface? What was it about Lovino that made him everything he wasn't and yet made him so stupidly happy? How could he hate himself so much and yet love Lovino even more?

"Antonio- oh, ve~ What's wrong, Antonio?" Feliciano's terrified voice exclaimed. Antonio looked up and threw his hand up to cover his face, momentarily blinded as Feliciano flicked on the lights.

He hadn't even noticed he had been sitting in the dark.

"Lo siento, Feli. I hadn't meant to… I was just thinking…" Antonio tried to apologized, to explain, but he broke off and stared into his mug, blinking away the spots in his vision as Feliciano hurried across the room towards him. He grinned weakly at Feli as the younger man dropped to his knees at Antonio's side. "Sorry, I helped myself to your coffee."

Feliciano shook his head rapidly and placed his hands around Antonio's, around the still hot mug between Antonio's palms.

"No, no. Don't apologize. I'm your friend, Tony. I've been so worried. I haven't heard from you in weeks and you never returned my calls and Lovino's been acting weird and hasn't been coming by and Bella has been calling asking if I've seen you because you haven't been answering her calls, either, and she hasn't seen you in weeks. And now you show up looking like this, no, I'm just glad you're here. I called in Marino to take over in the kitchen when Felicia told me how sick you looked. She didn't exaggerate at all, ve. You don't look like yourself at all," Feliciano babbled on, now and then rubbing Antonio's wrists or touching his forehead before returning his grip to Antonio's hands.

Antonio chuckled wryly. "I guess I can't hide much."

"Nope! But I can't either, so it's okay. How about some pizza? I do love pizza when I'm feeling down. I also have some very yummy chocolate gelato in the freezer. Homemade, too. Sent from my cousin, Felicia's mama, just this morning. I've been waiting all day to taste it! It'll taste much better sharing it, ve~ Now, let me pop downstairs and grab that pizza I put in for table twelve. They're regulars, so they won't mind the wait. They're half-drunk and won't even notice," he winked at Antonio, making the Spaniard laugh again, this time with gusto. Feliciano's face lit up with a delighted smile. "There he is! I'm so glad you came back, my friend."

Feliciano bounded from the room, leaving the smell of flour and tomatoes in his wake, as well as something indefinably cheery and content.

It was definitely a good idea to come, Antonio decided.

Pizza really did hit the spot. Feliciano always added extra sauce and extra cheese, and all the hot, gooey, tomato-y mess of it was perfect. They drank two bottles of red wine, sang along with the music downstairs, and finished the entire carton of gelato. At the end of the night, they sat on the balcony, feet hanging over the street, leaning on each other to keep the other upright, and sipping at the last of the second bottle. Feliciano was singing softly, swinging his legs while Antonio swirled the wine in his glass and watched the lights of Rome shine.

"Hey, Feli, would you mind if I got serious?" Antonio finally breathed aloud after fighting himself the entire night. Feliciano's soft voice cut off. Antonio felt the smaller man shift and then Feli's voice was directly beneath his ear.

"Ve, 'bout what, Tony?"

"How'd… when… when didja realize you were gay? Was it forever, or was it because of that boy?" Antonio murmured. He felt Feliciano's breath catch.

"You know… about… the boy?" Feliciano gasped, looking up and treating Antonio to his wide, brown-eyed gaze.

"Oh, um, yeah. A while back, Lovi told me about your parents when I saw that picture and about that boy. I'm sorry, do ya mind?" Antonio questioned awkwardly. Feliciano looked away, frowning, but it seemed more pensive than angry.

"No. I'm not angry," Feliciano replied softly. Antonio let the silence drag on, leaving it to Feliciano to bring it back up.

"I… I guess I'm not sure. About when I realized it, I mean," Feliciano answered slowly. He moved again, this time to face towards Rome and to place his wineglass down. "I was always more comfortable in dresses as a child. I always liked it when my mama played with my hair and read me stories about princesses. I always wanted to be the princess, you know? I never wanted to be the knight. When she died… there was no one to share it with. Lovi… he… hurt too much to play, I think. He didn't want to remember Mama and Papa. He wanted to hide his hurt away, but I only felt better when I remembered. Nobody knew me like Mama did, no one understood how much I liked those dresses and the stories and the games. I liked being her daughter and now I couldn't be anymore. It was hard to understand and hard to explain when you're only eight, though, ve…"

"I'm sorry. I don't understand. I never wanted to be a girl and I never had someone that close to me die. I can't…I can't understand. Even if I wanted to, I can't think about someone I love dying," Antonio muttered a few moments later. He almost toppled over as Feliciano twisted around. Feliciano grasped Antonio's hand, his face earnest as tears gathered on his lashes.

"No, don't! Don't try that! It's okay if you don't understand! I'm glad—glad you don't. I don't want you to understand!" Feliciano exclaimed. Antonio blinked as Feliciano sniffled. He grinned, set down his wineglass, and ruffled Feliciano's hair.

"You're too cute, really. Always caring 'bout everyone else, even when you're the one that's sad. C'mere," Antonio raised his arm and Feliciano cuddled close. Antonio glanced up as Feliciano hummed happily. "So… it hasn't always just been hypothetical, though, right?"

"High… hypo… hypoallergenic?" Feliciano stammered in confusion, using the only word he could think of that began with 'hypo'. Antonio pressed his lips together tightly.

"You've dated," Antonio choked out when he felt himself in control. He didn't want to laugh at Feliciano.

"Ohhh, why didn't you just say that? Yes, I have, a bit. A few boys in high school, though nothing too far. And then, in culinary school, I met a man. He wasn't a chef, he was in Venice- oh, that's where I grew up, by the way. I went back for college, but came down here again. I don't like being far from my family. Anyway, so I met this man at the café I was working at. Said he was in town for pleasure only. He said he hadn't been to Venice yet and felt he couldn't go on without seeing it at least once. Then, he offered me a drink when I got off the clock. A week. A week long affair. It was dazzling. He had a very strange, heavy accent and whenever I remember it I still get shivers. Have you ever been to Turkey, Tony?"

"Yeah, I went to Istanbul for a month. Great place. The guy was Turkish?"

"Yup! Very sexy older man, a little scuffy, dark skin. Hmm, a little darker than you," Feliciano mused, picking up Antonio's hand and poking the back of it. Antonio grinned.

"I used to be even darker than this. I played football in high school. My mom used to say I was as dark as a Turk," Antonio joked. Feliciano laughed his high, bubbly laugh that always made Antonio laugh, too.

"Why were you asking, Tony? Are you finally coming out the closet?" Feliciano teased, passing Antonio's lax hand between his palms, as if tossing a ball between his hands.

"…dunno…Everything's muddled and messed up. Dunno what I want…or maybe I want too much…" Antonio replied lowly. Feliciano continued to mess with Antonio's hand and fingers.

"Lovi told me you were painting him. He told me weeks and weeks ago. He said in return for the pictures he took. He hasn't told me if you finished, though," Feliciano brought up suddenly.

Antonio felt his neck burn as he remembered that day… that first time… "Yeah," he blurted thickly, his throat feeling clogged. "I finished."

"Are you sure you're finished?"

Antonio jerked. Bright green eyes looked down onto auburn hair, but Feliciano kept his gaze on their hands on his lap.

"It seems strange that I haven't seen you in weeks, haven't even heard from you, and then Lovino stops showing up for lunch and a nap, and Bella's worried that Lovi's going to break up with her, and Lovino hangs up whenever I try to ask. And Bella's worried you might be sick and then you show up, looking… sad, talking about being gay and Lovi told you about our parents. You must've seen Lovi more than me or Bella if you painted him and he was talking to you about that," Feliciano noted quietly. Antonio didn't answer, but Feliciano dropped his hand. "You're keeping secrets, aren't you? Neither of you are good at it, you know."

"I dunno if I can talk about it," Antonio whispered.

"But that's why you came, right? You need to talk. You don't like it. Whatever this secret is, it's hurting you," Feliciano whispered back, touching Antonio's cheek, just below the eye. "Have you been sleeping well?"

Antonio flinched away and got to his feet. "I should go."

"Let me explain about Lovino," Feliciano replied simply, turning towards Rome's lights again.

Antonio froze.

"Lovino isn't good with people. They confuse him. He's always been shy and, well, cranky. Even with our parents he could be… well, himself. It's hard for him to be honest about himself. He's honest about everything, but not about his own feelings. He shuts down. I don't think he was exactly like that when we were kids, but it was difficult for him to be openly affectionate. Losing our parents, people he trusted above all else, people he relied on, I think that hurt him more than it hurt me, because it's just so hard for him.

"It didn't help that our family passed us around a lot when we were younger. He always thought it was because of him. He would pick fights for me, you see. Whenever I was teased, or picked on, he would get so angry for me. He hated…he hated being noticed. He hated it when people looked at us, because he thought they were all judging us…pitying us. He hates pity. He's so…he's so awkward and confused when people are kind to them. He can never tell if they really just pity him. So he hates it when people look and he hates it that I'm different- that I've always been different," Feliciano told Antonio. He paused to drain the last of his wine and stood up, stretching.

"I asked him…" Feliciano looked towards Antonio. Antonio had leaned over to brace his elbow on the balcony railing, his shoulders hunched forward. "I asked him, once, if he was okay with you…you know, being gay. He told me he wasn't."

"But it's not exactly true, is it?" Feliciano prompted, smiling. "Or maybe it's true, but not because I'm gay, really, it's because I'm too honest about it. People look at me, people see me and they see something different. People know I'm different. He sees them looking, he sees them judging, maybe even hating me or pitying me, and that's what he hates. We're not in grade school and he can't punch the bullies anymore," Feliciano explained with a laugh. Antonio laughed a bit, too.

"He's still not very good with kindness," Antonio said suddenly.

"No, he really isn't," Feliciano agreed simply. "And you're a very kind man, aren't you?"

Antonio looked over at him quickly. Feliciano merely smiled. "…I'd like to think so, but…it kinda defeats the purpose of being kind."

"What does?" Feliciano asked, stepping closer and laying his hand on Antonio's arm.

"Well, knowing you're kind. Kindness…kindness isn't kindness if you do it knowingly, if you think, 'well, I want to be kind, so I should do this.' A kind person is kind without thinking about it, because it's in their nature, si?"

"Si, how nicely you say it," Feliciano observed, his tone becoming teasing, "I didn't know you were a philosopher, Tony."

Antonio smirked over at him. "I have a Frenchman for a best friend. I couldn't help it."

Feliciano laughed. When his giggles ebbed away, his brown eyes lit on Antonio's face. He looked hungry, then, even though they were both full from dinner and wine. "Is there anything else you couldn't help but pick up from this Frenchman friend?" Feliciano asked, leaning close and brushing dark hair from Antonio's face.

Antonio gulped and felt an answering need rising.

"Maybe. I…I should go…"

"Should you? Should you go back where you're keeping a secret that hurts you, Tony? You're so tired. I hate to see you looking like this, but I know there's nothing I can do. That doesn't mean I like it any less. So…" Feliciano tugged on Antonio's elbow, pulling him towards the door. His hand slid down Antonio's arm to finally entwine their fingers. "Spend the night with me."

"That's not going to make this bet—" Antonio broke off. Feliciano had somehow managed to get close enough to rise up on tiptoes and press his lips to Antonio's. His free hand curled into a fist as Feliciano's small body, warm and soft and rather curvy, fitted up against his own. His lips tasted sweet, the lingering traces of wine and chocolate on his tongue making Antonio's mind reel.

And suddenly he wanted him. He wanted to sleep with this cheerful, smiling young man that didn't ask for too much, that merely wanted to laugh and flirt and play. No ties, no strings, no complications.

Antonio pulled away, breathing hard, and Feliciano smiled up at him, head tilted to the side.

"It's all right, Antonio," Feli tugged him into the apartment. "Stop thinking for a night. One entire night to stop caring so much, to stop being so kind. Come and rest with me," Feliciano murmured.

Antonio squeezed his eyes shut tightly, but he let himself be led. They made it to the bedroom, and Antonio knew one certain truth.

"You don't want me to sleep with you, you want more than that. Just…being clear…"

"Oh, no, we'll sleep. Just not right away," Feliciano answered cheerfully. He rose up on his tiptoes again and kissed Antonio's neck, warm lips lingering on his skin. Goosebumps raised Antonio's flesh as he fought a shudder. "I've wanted to make love to you since you walked in my door. Indulge me, Antonio. You'll feel much better in the morning, and so will I."

"I…I can't. I just—I can't…Lov—"

"Don't tell me, Antonio. You'll regret that tomorrow," Feliciano interrupted harshly. Antonio stared at him. Feliciano shook his head, clearing away the dark look his face.

"I don't want you to be guilty. I don't want you to even think about the secret that's killing you. That's the whole point. It's time you let go of it for a while. Maybe I can't help you get out of it completely, but I can help you just forget for a little while. That's something you won't regret. You need a night without poison, without being ashamed," Feliciano said, knocking the wind out of Antonio.

How could he possibly know?

Antonio took a step closer, wondering just why it was happening, and why was he going through with it…

Friday, Friday, gotta get down on Friday-

Antonio and Feliciano stared at each other, eyes wide. They blinked and then Feliciano burst into giggles.

Everybody's lookin' forward to the weekend, weekend

"Gilbert—I don't know how to change it—Lovi's yelled at me—" Antonio managed to get his mobile free and froze, staring at the screen.

"Tony, turn it off and come on," Feliciano said, leaning against the doorjamb. "You should stop it now." Antonio glanced up, eyes wide. Feliciano smiled softly. "It isn't good for you, all these secrets and lying. You're cracking up, Tony. I'll be a lot better for you, ve."

Antonio smiled tightly, his fingers gripping his phone so tightly his knuckles whitened. "Yeah, I know."

Friday, Friday, gettin' down on Friday, Everybody's lookin' forward to th-

He flipped open the phone. "Hey, what's up, Lovi? You got out late—ay, you never told me to come—okay…uh…yeah, I'll be there…"

He snapped it shut and smiled that tight, wistful smile. "I'm sorry, Feli."

Feliciano shrugged, though his brown eyes were pained. "It's your choice, Tony. But I'm not offering again."

"I got that," Antonio backed up and turned towards the front door.

"Tony?"

"Yeah?" He looked over his shoulder, eyebrows high. Feliciano waved and smiled.

"Just remember I'm your friend. As your friend, I really think you need to start talking, not just thinking. A whole lot of people are hurting right now — remember that, ve?"

Antonio frowned, his shoulders slumping. Then, he was out the door. Feliciano sighed and went into his room, alone.

.

Later that night, as Lovino slept next to him, Antonio stared up at the ceiling. A whole lot of people are hurting right now — remember that, ve?

How could I forget? Every time I'm with him it just gets worse. It's impossible to forget. But I can't stop needing him in my life. I can't stop loving him now that I have him. I can't give up what I got. Antonio covered his eyes with the back of his wrist and clenched his teeth so hard they squeaked. I'm trying so hard, I tell myself every day not to, but I keep coming back. I'm addicted and I can't stop taking. I need him so much. What is wrong with me?! Love shouldn't be like this! Love shouldn't hurt so bad! It shouldn't be this messed up! Why can't he just admit he loves me? And why can't I admit it? Why is everything so damn wrong?

Tears slipped from the corners of his eyes, streaming down his cheeks, dripping into his ears, onto his hair and the pillow beneath his head. Soft, choked sounds escaped his mouth, but he bit down on his lip, swallowing the sounds, though they stuck in his throat and choked him there anyway.

He knew, sooner or later, they would have to talk. That time was getting closer, and maybe that's why he couldn't speak, couldn't reveal his heart. Just like the first time, it scared him. Holy Mother of God, it scared the shit out of him how much he loved Lovino.

He was even more terrified that Lovino would leave him.

So he swallowed his words and his fears and feasted on the nights and early morning that Lovino gifted him with. He was starving and only Lovino filled him. In those lonely empty hours during the day, he could only wait for more.

He trudged home early that day, before even Lovino woke up. He hadn't slept at all and felt like shit. His eyes were itchy and dry, his face tight, his nose achy, and his legs were heavy. He kind of smelled like sex, and he was still in his grungy clothes from yesterday. Lovino had lectured him for about ten minutes, forcing him into a shower and complaining that his old tanktop needed to be burned.

Antonio had laughed along and then devoured Lovino's mouth to shut out the words. Pretending like it was normal, that it was perfectly fine and normal—it hurt too much.

He pushed open the door and then cursed in Spanish. "I left the door unlocked? That was stupid!"

"Nah, we woulda had to break a window if you hadn't," drawled a man's voice in the brisk tones of German.

Antonio stared into his flat, green eyes wide.

"He looks like shit, Gilbert. Why did we ever leave him alone so long?" sighed another man's silky bass voice in French.

Gilbert sat at a kitchen stool, leaning back on the bar, resting on his elbows so that two legs of the stool hovered over the cheap, age-stained tile. His white hair gleamed in the morning sunlight and a cup of still steaming coffee sat on the island's counter top by his arm. He was smirking mischievously, red eyes glittering. Francis sat over in the window, eyeing Antonio beside the tomato plants as the stray cat that had adopted Antonio twined beneath his outstretched hand. A cigarette hung from his lips and his gorgeous, wavy blond hair was gathered on top of his head in a ponytail tied by a bright red hair tie. Blue eyes peered at him, sudden concern filling his face shadowed by the scruffy beard he still sported.

"Antonio, mon ami, you really do look terrible. What is wrong?" Francis asked, worried.

"Oh, come off it, he was just out all night doing only God knows what, and is probably blushing about up on His shiny, virginal, Heavenly throne. Who's the sweet piece this time, Tony?" Gilbert taunted, rocking forward with a loud crack on the tiles and chugging down some coffee.

"I'm gay."

Gilbert choked and Francis sighed.

"Well, Jesus H. Christ, Tony, don't kill a man," Gilbert sputtered, wiping coffee from his chin and lips.

"I see that this just isn't another fling then?" Francis murmured, tapping his cigarette free of ash and then smothering it.

Antonio groaned and threw himself onto his messy bed. "Why are you guys even here?"

"Dude, seriously? I sent you like three emails-"

"I sent you a very beautifully written letter that arrived three days ago, according to that pile of mail you've apparently been ignoring-"

"-saying we'd be here last night and you're gonna take me partying. Then, we show up and your flat's a shitty mess-"

"You really do need better homemaking skills. However, your bathroom is much nicer than expected… and previously experienced…"

"-and you gone! Stop talking, Fran!" Gilbert snapped. Francis shrugged.

"That still doesn't explain why. I didn't read any of what you sent. Sorry, Gil, Francis," Antonio muttered, rubbing his face.

"You should get on some decent clothes and let's get some breakfast. We're in Italia. The best food in the world—excepting French. We need lattes and plenty of heavy, much-too-fattening food before finding out just where you've been all night, why you suddenly announce you're gay, and then explaining just what brought us here," Francis announced.

Antonio sighed and pulled himself up. "Do I have to change?"

"Oui, and then burn what you're wearing."

"I wouldn't burn it, but I definitely wouldn't go out in public like that. What the fuck were you thinking?"

"Too damn much," Antonio muttered, stumbling towards his closet.

Gilbert and Francis exchanged a look. Gilbert's mouth twisted into a rueful smirk before he chugged the rest of his coffee down. Francis merely sighed again and watched Antonio dress from the corner of his eye.

Antonio had always looked better without his clothes on for more than one reason.