Early Spring; Rome,Italy; 1939

"Canta per me."..sing for me. A request Lovino heard often. The stage was vast silence and candelabras, occupied only by flickering flame and the prospect of a purpose. He nodded towards the composer, subtlety, his harsh tone obscured by the glamour of it all.

"From the aria, then?" he spoke.

"Of course."

He had no room to refuse. The maestro wound up the pit, an inclusive stroke of his hand,and they had filled the empty hall with life once again. Lovino sucked in a large breath, and let the music carry him away with the silence.

"Recitar! Mentre preso dal delirio..", Act! While in delirium.

"Non so più quel che dico..", I no longer know what I say.

"E quel che faccio!..", or what I do!

"Eppur è d'uopo, sforzati!..", and yet it's necessary...make an effort!

"Bah! Sei tu forse un uom?..", bah! Are you not a man?

"Tu se' Pagliaccio!..", you are a clown!

His voice was abounding. Broad and defiant through its tenor vibrato. He sparked fire, rang in every inch of the balconies and rattled the very plaster. Lovino, was not only a voice that needed to be heard, he was a performer to entertain. He dictated the stage, commanding the sole attention of every member of the audience, even if it was just one.

"Vesti la giubba..", put on your costume.

"E la faccia infarina..", powder your face.

"La gente paga, e rider vuole qua..", the people pay to be here, and they want to laugh.

"E se Arlecchin t'invola Colombina..", and if Harlequin shall steal your Columbina.

"Ridi, Pagliaccio, e ognun applaudirà!..", laugh,clown,so the crowd will cheer!

"Tramuta in lazzi lo spasmo ed il pianto..", turn your distress and tears into jest!

"In una smorfia il singhiozzo e 'l dolor, Ah!..", your pain and sobbing into a funny face-Ah!

He not only sung with his voice, but he used his body to further paint the portrait. He waved his hands with dynamic flourish, his expression always jesting, teasing the crowd with his amber hued orbs. A fools mask over his normally antagonistic expression. His chest was swollen,he was a rooster with brilliant feathers. His range fell and rose with the swells of music. Held notes hanging in the air and then dying in a they continued rising, and falling, like the waves upon the sea. He was Pagliaccio, the melancholic jester.

"Ridi, Pagliaccio..", laugh, clown.

"Sul tuo amore infranto!..", at your broken love!

"Ridi del duol, che t'avvelena il cor!..", laugh at the grief that poisons your heart!

Lovino fell to his knees, his voice slipping into muffled sobs of a lover's delusion. The music slowly began to fall away from him, and he reached to grapple every lingering note. He obscured the line between tears and delirious laughter. But alas, the music faded with the cello, and so his performance had come to a close in company with it. He rose,straightening his suit and dusting the grime from the knees of his pants. His jesters mask removed to make way for that same sour expression. He put his hands in his pockets, not knowing what else to do with them.

"So?" he bluntly asked the Impresario. Lovino didn't appreciate games, and he had discovered during his career that the Opera scene was entirely made of games. Games between actors, divas, back-alley directors and cheap voices looking for whatever the had to suck to get a piece of the spotlight. The Impresario scoffed, pulling his pocket watch from the inside of his jacket, checking the time he didn't have.

"Signore Vargas, we would love to have you in our Spring show. There are dormitories here in the house if you prefer..."

"I do." He interrupted. "I prefer a secluded room." he added bluntly.

"Ah, yes, for your after-hours activities I presume. You singers are all the same." The man sighed, wiping the sweat from his brow."Alright, I can offer you the appropriate accommodations if your willing to sign a contract for our Spring season." He glanced at Lovino through his thick lenses.

"Deal." he replied.

In truth, Lovino had gotten the better end of the contract. More than adequate pay, a personal driver, and a secluded room down from the rest of the actors dormitories. Although the Impresario had been wrong in his intentions. His room was not solely for the purpose of midnight passions, but rather the prospect of a moment of peace between the drama that haunted the L'Opera Fantastico. But still, his sour expression held no joy to him. In truth, he was entirely too young to already be holding the title primo uomo. He was the modest age of 19. Although, his age had held no restrictions on his talent. He had been a slave to the stage since the tender year of 9, working as a backstage rat. Rigging the ropes and running errands, spying on practice and learning every hidden door and unknown crevice that could be used at his disposal. But he was a child then,now he was a man, predisposed to leave his humble beginnings behind in search of something singular.

The paperwork was signed, and Lovino had gone drinking with a few of the cast members. From what he could tell, they were all significantly older than him, already calling him "bambino". He hated it. They occupied a corner of the bar, drowning themselves in extravagant wines at the expense of L'Opera Fantastico. The wine made him sloppy, and already he had stumbled over the rug and knocked a glass from the table. But he was nothing compared to the others. His leading lady was a lush. A well-rounded woman who threw herself at any admiring glance. He had heard of her, an old singer who was well into her thirties. Signora Constantina De Luca was her name. She chatted obnoxiously with everyone there, demanding ridiculous things like fresh flowers on their table or an attendant to fan her. He had made the mistake of paying her no mind all evening.

"Ah, Lovi bambino why are you so quiet? C'mon how can I get you to talk me, huh?" she teased. Her lips painted crimson, face caked with unnecessary makeup. Lovino thought she may have been rather attractive in her prime, but she was long past time for plucking. He snorted at her, rolling his amber eyes as he took another sip of wine, holding the glass for her to see when he was finished. "Signora, I would rather drown myself in this glass than let you delight in a conversation with me." he retorted. She was aghast. Lovino thought the look on her face was priceless, jaw slack like a dead fish. She did not find it so amusing. She took his relishing moment and turned it right back around on him. She was in his face within seconds, practically crawling on top of him, her nails digging into his chest as she pointed a manicured finger at him.

"Bastard! No one speaks to me that way!" Her sudden pounce sent his wine toppling from it's glass, splashing all over his fine suit.

"Hag!" he cursed."Get off of me you petulant cow!" he shoved her away.

She descended rather ungracefully towards the floor, landing with a sharp thud. True to form, Lovino had been colorful in his choice of language. "Pardon me." he excused himself from the other singers, leaving Signora De Luca on the floor in a tizzy.

"Argh, damn woman." he blasted her under his breath. The attendant had seen to fetching his car while he attempted to remove the stain with the wash-cloth in the sink, but to no avail. He eventually gave up, a defeated sigh escaping his lips. God damn prima donnas, always finding ways to ruin everyone's lives and make them all miserable. The attendant had returned with a promising word, at least his car was ready for him. He stumbled from the back entrance,not wanting to cause much more of a scene than he already had. He threw himself in the backseat, the car pulling away from the curb in a rumble.

When he arrived back at the opera house, he was still staggeringly drunk. In his stupor, he had managed to fall twice going up the flights of stairs that led to the dormitories. He was only halfway up when he heard workers chatter trailing up the stairs behind him. He attempted to bolt to the next step, but created an even larger ruckus by sliding backwards five steps.

"Hey, you need some help?" asked a voice behind him.

"No." He snapped back, not bothering with a backwards glance. His sharp response was quickly followed by the sound of slight laughter, and the chatting among a few people whose voices he couldn't place. Lovino just laid sprawled on the steps, not caring about how sloppily his demeanor was or the wine-stain on his shirt.

"Alright, ciao guys. See you tomorrow, yeah?" said the voice who had engaged him in the first place. Lovino noticed the voice, obviously a male,spoke sloppy Italian. His accent was off and he lacked that certain Italian swagger everyone native had. He felt an arm hook underneath his, his other draping across the strangers neck. He groaned slightly, and he could feel the stranger gently shake with laughter.

"Been drinking?"he teased.

Lovino pouted, gripping the railing. "I don't have to answer to you, ass." he retorted.

"Ah, the rebellious type. Probably one of the new singers, si?" Again, that sloppy Italian was nails on a chalkboard to Lovino's ears. But, in light of his alcoholic misfortunes, and this strangers generosity to at least help him up the stairs, he figured he may as well be as kind as any drunk would be.

"Yeah.."he replied sloppily as the man practically drug him up the steps. He hadn't gotten a look at his face, but rather felt how he may have looked with the lights illumination. He was quite muscular if he was able to handle someone of Lovino's size, and in a way he smelt of sea salt, freshly cut wood and a spice which Lovino could not place. His brain was drowning in wine.

They reached the top of the flights, where the candles were still lit for his fellow performers late-night promiscuity, and Lovino propped himself against the a sideways peek he saw his assistant at full value. He was striking. Olive-skinned, and well toned even though his baggy shirt and loose short-pants. His newsboy cap obstructed what looked like shaggy, curly brown-locks. But the real gem was in his eyes, a captivating pair of emeralds that pierced Lovino somewhere nothing else ever had before. He didn't know if it was the wine working it's magic, but for the first time in good while Lovino had nothing to say. His mouth simply motioned, and nothing but harsh air escaped them.

"What is it, are you gonna puke Signor?"the man asked.

"No, you idiot. Just give me a minute."Lovino replied harshly.

The man sighed, propping against the wall beside him, but instead of standing, he slid down the floral wallpaper and sat with his elbows on his knees. Lovino followed suit, leaning his head against the wall. They sat in silence for what seemed forever, but in truth was only roughly ten minutes. Until the man felt the need to break it.

"Antonio." he said.

"What?"Lovino asked, slightly annoyed. He cocked his head in the mans direction, and was slightly peeved that even his profile was attractive. Just as the thought crossed his mind, the man turned towards him, those emeralds sparkling even in the dimly lit corridor.

"Antonio. My name is Antonio Carriedo." He held out his right hand, waiting for Lovino to respond. But instead he stared at him for a few moments, soaking it in. .Antonio Carriedo. He would be sure to remember that.

"Oh, uh. Lovino. Lovino Vargas." He offered up his name, and his right hand to Antonio's. The contact was brief, only a few moments but Lovino felt the roughness of Antonio's palm against his own. He must work hard, he thought.

"Lovino Vargas, huh? Your the new primo uomo they hired?"Antonio asked with a chuckle, slapping his knee in the process. "You're a little scrawny to be some big important singer!" he teased. He received a quick jab to the ribs from Lovino's elbow.

"Watch it,Bastard!"Lovino warned, quickly followed by Antonio's muffled laughter.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" Antonio jested, his hand covering his mouth to try and muffle what he could, although it was impossible. His laughter carried. That laughter was awarded with another jab to his ribs.

"Ow." he complained.

"Then stop making so much damn noise." Lovino replied. He had a headache from all the wine, and not to mention the added foul mood he received from the Signora De Luca herself. But, this man had managed to at least get more than five words from him, and that was impressive. They sat momentarily, before Antonio sighed and made a move to stand. He dusted the seat of his pants, then offering another helping hand to Lovino. Lovino took it, and rose to his feet.

"So which room is yours?" he asked.

"I'm down this side hall, and down the steps. Only door." Lovino replied sleepily, stifling a yawn.

"Oh, special treatment,si?" Antonio teased. "Think you can make it without falling?"

Lovino nodded, ruffling his own hair in a half tired half drunk stupor.

"Alright then, try not to drink so much next time. Ciao." He turned to leave, and Lovino looked on in silence. Was he supposed to thank him?Say some kind of parting word or let this man walk away without saying anything? He reached out, and caught him by the sleeve.

"Hey."

Antonio turned, "Yeah?"

"You didn't have to help me up the stairs."Lovino said bluntly. It was a simple enough statement, but made all the more complex by who they were. Lovino was a star,the attraction the lured in fat wallets. Antonio was a grunt worker, used for nothing more than his youth and strength. In no other circumstance would they have crossed paths in such a personal setting. Antonio would work in the underbelly of the opera house, and Lovino would entertain the masses. They were two entirely separate beings.

"So?" Antonio asked puzzled.

"So why did you?" Lovino pressed.

Antonio smiled slightly, a little half-cocked grin. He sighed, taking off his cap and ruffling his already messy brown hair. "I don't know. You looked a little helpless on the stairs I suppose." He shot his emerald eyes back up at him from underneath thick lashes, that grin still pasted on his sly mug.

Helpless? Lovino thought. He pouted, noticing he was still gripping his sleeve, he promptly let go, his arm dangling by his side. His fingers began to feel cold, devoid of the warmth radiating from the man across from him. Did I not want to let go? A question that would drive the young singer mad. But instead, he stayed true to that sparkling personality of his.

"Whatever." He scoffed,rolling his golden orbs.

"Don't make too much noise on your way down." at least some form of thank you on his part, Lovino thought. It was best no one knew the young worker had been up here in the actors dormitories. On that note, Lovino left him there, not a backwards glance. He didn't even wait to hear him descend the staircases, Lovino was already at his door, fishing for the key the Impresario had given him earlier in the opened his door to darkness, the only light flooding through the window was from the lantern-strung streets still harboring late-night drinkers. It was enough to undress by. He threw his clothes in a heap, the wine stain far from his thoughts. He tugged back the blankets, flopping his head onto the feather-filled pillows. Lovino gazed at his tiled ceiling for a long time, about an hour he supposed. But he finally did drift into a fitful sleep, plagued by sea-salt and pools of endless green.