Lovino could drive. He could walk on his own, cook, and get dressed. He was exactly who he wished he could be again, yet something wasn't sitting right. Despite all of this new independence, he had felt more alone then ever.

Shortly after he had parted lips with Antonio, he had left in a hurry and hadn't spoken to him since. His phone felt heavy in his hands knowing in a short moment he could speak with him on the other side. What company did he work for? His insurance company would tell him, for sure. His old doctor could say. It was on his way to work that he thought this, staying very clear of the intersection which caused all of this and blessed him the most understanding, and perhaps misunderstood man in his life.

The scars on his face opened windows and doors of answers to questions he had asked. Why so subtle about his physical appearance? Why was he always wearing long sleeves despite summer's harsh breath? And why was he always insistent that he walked on the left side of him? Better yet, why was he so afraid and enraged when Lovino could see again? All of these answers were putting themselves back into place like errant children in single file. Among these realizations, Lovino found himself ready to face him, even eager when he laid down to bed that night and thought about him all over again, now seeing not just his face and his wavy brown hair that so carefully whispered at his forehead and curled against his brilliant, beautiful green eyes.

It occurred to Lovino walking his way down the street that he loved him, less of a friend and a brother and more of a companion, one he didn't think he could live without. He walked the same route everyday planning what he would do once he would see him again before he actually did something about it.

He called the company Antonio worked for and asked where he could possibly find him. They explained a code of privacy with the clients he worked with until he had actually explained he was one of his clients. The receptionist paused and sighed, reading him off the address to their office where he would be. He was only there for one more hour and how it would be a good idea if he wanted to come, to come now because he was taking a few days off and wouldn't be in contact for a while.

Lovino was sure he slammed his finger on the end call button to race over to the end table hiding his keys in a small glass dish. He didn't even bother locking his door. His car was junky at best. It was as reliable as the weather and he realized how badly he needed to get a new car once the engine sputtered a cough as he tried to bring it to life. It gasped and fell dead. He kicked it, pocketing his keys and looking at the scrawled out address in his palm.

He quickly read it over. Not but thirty blocks away, which was a lot in hindsight, sure, but he was sure he could make it on foot. He hadn't the money on him for a taxi and rush hour was approaching. He swallowed, kicking his leg up on the hood of his car to tighten his shoelaces and awkwardly stumbling off to sprint down the street.

His lungs began to cripple after the third block but his feet kept going. He disregarded the lights on the streets and ran out into traffic, his mind flashing pictures of what happened the last time he saw someone do this action. Disregarded that. All he cared about was speaking to Antonio to get some damn closure because he hadn't slept for two weeks and the days were lonely without him, something that he had said he was trying to fix.

Tourists and shoppers and pedestrians blocked his path, and Lovino would be ashamed to say now that he did shove many of them out of the way in his desperate attempt to reach his office. His lungs burned as if he had chugged an entire bottle of whiskey and his vision speckled. Seven more goddamn blocks.

Five. Three. Two. One.

Lovino didn't stop once he reached the door, huffing and puffing so much he coughed and gagged, a constant reminder maybe he should skip the cannoli for once and maybe get on the treadmill.

"Where is he?" He gasped at the receptionist who had to take off his glasses to see if he was seeing straight. "I had to run, my engine—"

"Down the hall and the fourth door on your left." He stumbled, his obvious Bostonian accent slipping on the words. Lovino closed his eyes, reaching out and clutching his tanned hand to kiss it like he goddamn meant it for helping him and jogging off to meet his guide.

The door was blurred for privacy and aside from a name, had the number 'A034' beside the hinge in white letters, 'Assisted Living Counselor' underneath. He knocked once and barged in, slamming the door behind him and rattling the entire room. There the bastard sat with a bulky cord phone pressed to his right cheek, an angel against the bright room's light. Lovino thought about how Antonio's eyes had only looked at him with vexation and discontent up until that moment where he looked at him like he was the most fucking insane person he had ever met.

"I have to go," he muttered, slamming the phone on the receiver in one fluid motion and sitting up straight to sputter out "Lovino, what are you doing here?"

"I think you have a damn idea." He struggled, seeing him and feeling his eyes water and string and burn as if he had opened his eyes in saltwater. "Why did you leave?"

"You can see again, I leave when you don't need me anymore—"

"That's bullshit and you know it!" Lovino yelled over him, his heart beating in his ears and through his scalp so hard he had to lean against the chair to hack out a string of coughs, unable to continue. Antonio's eyes shifted into something else as he quickly rushed out of his chair to coax Lovino to sit down in the seat he was leaning on. "I-I still need you, you're the one who left…"

"Shh, sit down, it's alright, don't stress yourself," Antonio whispered frantically, rubbing his shoulders as he knelt next to him. Lovino wanted to shake him off to spite him, to make him feel what he had felt for the past two weeks, but couldn't bring himself to do it as his chest quickened in its wild rising and falling motions as sobs began to fill his lungs instead of air. He felt messy and sweaty and like he was drowning in himself.

"You left because you're afraid of m-me." Lovino struggled out. "You left because you're afraid of what I'd think of you, a-and you don't want me to see you." He opened his eyes to see Antonio blinking, unconsciously shaking his head in a quickening pace. "Don't look at me like that… you were afraid. You didn't need to be, but you were." He opened his mouth to speak and Lovino quickly continued. "You never wanted me to see you."

"I didn't." He rushed to agree, his eyebrows furrowing. Lovino swallowed hard and his chest shook as sob after sob left him. He listened to him. "I took your job because I needed more practice in taking care of a wider age group, and I took it because with the damage you had I didn't think you were going to see again."

"Y-You lied to me, you said I would." Lovino stammered, shaking his head when Antonio spoke over him and yelling to make himself heard. "You believed I would."

"I didn't want you to see me." He said with finality, breathing out shakily.

Lovino felt this sink in as if he had finally swallowed a large bite of food, feeling it rub and stab all the way down. "You never answered my question." He whispered, confused and a little afraid of the long silence Antonio gave him. "What happened to you? I told you what happened to my parents."

"That isn't very justifiable." He laughed half-heartedly, his eyes unbelieving. Lovino stood steadfast, never breaking eye contact with him, and perhaps seeing what was under his scar and making him feel very vulnerable. His palms were sweaty as he stood up to sit on his desk, raking his hair back out of his face just to have it fall back again. "In college, I was studying to be an English or History teacher because I liked how people could look in deeper and see another meaning to a simple event or phrase…" He laughed, incredibly nervous, somehow seeing a hidden irony in his words as he began to tremble. "There was this kid in my year; kind of quiet, never liked talking to people or me for that matter, thought everyone was really obnoxious." He shrugged, looking at Lovino as if he knew where this was going. "One day he runs into our dorm buildings and starts throwing Molotov cocktails in our rooms, spraying gasoline everywhere and locking us in so we could 'burn in hell'.

"A lot of us made it out okay but some of my classmates didn't make it. He's in federal prison, now. Thing was, I tried to save as many of my classmates as I could. Most of them made it out with first-degree burns, but I was the idiot that kept going back in to break down doors to save them. A bomb he made and dropped on accident in the hall caught fire and as I was carrying out my friend on my left, hit me on my right side and."

Antonio stopped speaking, trembling so much his body looked like a blur of motion and breathed out, gesturing to his scars as if they spoke for themselves. "I saved maybe twenty? I don't know, I lost so many of my friends. I just want to help people, now."

"You're a hero," Lovino whispered, his heart twisting in on itself when Antonio closed his eyes and winced, as if he was being hurt all over again. "Antonio, you saved so many people—" He stood up, waving Lovino off as he shook his head and rolling up his sleeve to look at the flames eternally sealed in his skin. "Y-You saved me, too…" He said, quickly wiping his tears and not caring about the rest. "Antonio, I love you." His guide turned back, confused, suspended in a world of disbelief for a brief moment. "Why else would I kiss you and you kiss back? You're one of the greatest people I've ever met."

Antonio seemed to recall it, as if it hadn't been on his mind, too. Lovino's stomach felt like hairs sprouted from it and tickled his insides as it knotted and twisted around. He felt sick knowing that Antonio probably didn't feel the same way. It made him shiver and shake and cry all over again. "Lovino," he began, his tone all wrong to his ears.

"No," he moaned, shakily standing up and feeling his muscles ache. "You just wanted to take care of me, I get it…" Antonio rushed to stand up after him, catching his shoulders and awkwardly moving to embrace him. Lovino choked on his words and felt his warmth radiate off his chest, hearing the rapid thumping of his good, sweet heart.

"You loved me even when you couldn't see me?" He asked in a hushed voice, tears clear in his voice. "Lovino,"

"I love you, now," he whispered back, clutching his sides. "For everything."

Antonio had gotten looks from so many people on the streets and in his everyday life and still, Lovino wasn't afraid. He loved him when he didn't know who he was. He felt a smile stretch at his lips and kissed his forehead, resting his right cheek on his head. Had he expected this at the end of his job? No, of course not. But he certainly wasn't opposed to it. He had never felt luckier and more loved in his life. And for once, he felt as if he deserved it. "I love you, too."