TheBoogyman-
Yo. Weeeeeee new story time! This one is kind of dramatic and emotional, especially compared to my other stories which were either a) fluffy b) stupid c) all of the above. This one centers on Lovino's dark inner thoughts and what goes on behind all the angry yelling and cursing in Italian. Gahh, I can't even be serious in my author's notes. I have no idea how I'm gonna write this story.
Everything is disclaimed. Except the plot. That's mine.
Diving
It started about a year ago. At first, it was just cutting. It didn't matter. It's not like he was going to kill himself. He only did it because he could. Or, more likely, because he knew his brother couldn't. It was something that made them different. Which was what he wanted, right? To be different…
He doesn't know what he wants anymore. He can't be Feli, no matter how hard he tries. He always just makes himself look like an idiot. But he's too scared to be himself. Too much of a pussy.
He hates himself. He's pathetic. Just a worthless copy of his younger sibling. And not even a good copy at that. That's how it went from 'I'm not suicidal, I just need an outlet," to "I just wish I could die. Just crawl in a deep dark hole and die."
So he cuts along the vain, both arms. Just to see if he can bleed out. No luck, he just wakes up the next morning in a pool of blood feeling fine. That's when he discovers it.
I can't die
He needs to find a way. An escape. Something that can put an end to his miserable existence. He buys a notebook. Just your average small, marble notebook. And, no. he is not going to write shitty emo poetry in it. His not a complete wimp. No, just going to use it to organize his plans.
First page; the things he hates about himself. But the list just keeps growing and growing. It reaches 7 pages after that before he gives up and, on the verge of tears, skips ahead a dozen pages. At the top, he writes in big, curvy hand writing 'ATTEMPTS'. Then he starts to write.
Slit you wrists
Shoot yourself
Drown
Take a shit load of vicodin
The list goes on and on. 114 ways to off himself. And those are just the ones he can think of off the top of his head. He'll try everyone if he has to. Because there is no way in hell he can't die. He can't just NOT DIE. He needs to die. Because if he's condemned to this existence, he just doesn't know what to do…
He hears someone opening the door downstairs and then a loud mixture of German, Italian and Spanish greetings. Feliciano must have invited some friends. Probably the potato bastard and the pomodorobastard. Whatever. He needed to get out there before one of those idiots came up here.
He begins putting his things away and starts to rush when he hears footsteps coming up the stairs. He quickly dries his eyes and rushes to the door and swinging it open. Spain is standing in the door, his left hand curled into a fist, ready to knock at Romano's door.
"Oh, it's you. What do you want, stronzo," his says with false malice and Antonio's happy-go-lucky grin fades when he looks at his former charge. Spain notices the red in the smaller mans eyes. It's easy to see he's either been crying or smoking pot. Antonio decides to go with the former instead of the latter.
"Lovino… are you feeling alright?" the Spaniard asks, genuine concern mixing in with his Spanish accent. Romano is taken aback by this sudden change in the Spaniards mood. But then Feli steps up behind him and cuts down the tension building between the two before it could even amount to anything.
"Ve~. Is everything alright? Are you coming to the party Romano?" his sibling says cheerily.
"ABSOLUTLY NO-" The Spaniard silences him by draping his arm over the two Italian's shoulders and confirming Lovino's attendance.
"Of course he's coming! Who would want to spend a Saturday night all alone in his room!" the always overly-cheery Toni says brightly.
"I would," Romano says grouchily, but doesn't protest any further. Instead, he resides himself to mopping over being dragged out of the over-whelming, dark depression of his room.
He just know he's not going to enjoy himself. He just knows it.
~.~.~.~.~
Yup. I was right. Didn't enjoy that party one single bit.
Those are his thoughts as he sets his car keys down on the desk and prepares for bed. But when he opens his top dresser drawer to pull out a more comfortable pair of pants, he sees a small, blood-stained knife sitting on top of his favorite pajama bottoms.
He can't help himself.
'You just have no fucking will power, huh? 'he thinks bitterly as he picks up the knife and steps quietly into his closet.
He sits silently on the floor and plugs in his IPod and the classical music begins to play. He slides out of his dark blue hoodie and tucks it behind him. He doesn't want to ruin another one. He's already destroyed at least 5 with his 'suicidal tendencies'.
It's dark in the closet, pitch black in fact, but he doesn't need the light. Not anymore. His right hand picks up the blade of its own accord. His body goes into automatic. He's done this so many times he doesn't even need to think about it. He feels the cool metal of the miniature hunting knife press against the blue vein in his left arm. He doesn't know why he favors the left. That's just how it started. His body goes numb as he feels the blade press into his olive skin.
He doesn't remember anything after that when he wakes up the next morning with a killer headache, Franz Ferdinand buzzing away at his ear, and a bloody mess all over his left arm and one of his favorite shirts.
'Of course, it had to be THIS shirt I choose to mutilate myself in," he thinks groggily. But he doesn't fuss; he's used to everything he touches turning to complete and utter dog-shit. He sighs as he moves to stand up, but pauses, leaning on his right knee. He hears his bedroom door opening. He presses his ear to the wood door and listens silently, barley breathing.
"Ve~ Romano, you up?" his younger brother says, poking his head in the door. "Huh. Guess he's up early! Thought he'd still be upset from last night." He hears Feliciano say to no one in particular as he steps out the spacious bedroom. Romano sighs and opens the closet door and steps out. Stretching, then examining the damage from the night before, he decides to take a shower. Grabbing his towel on the way out, the Italian pokes his head out of the room to check the hallway. When he's sure the coast is clear he steps out and makes his way down the hall to the bathroom.
Once the door is closed and locked, Lovino turns on the faucet and strips down to his 'birthday suit'. He steps in and turns the water up a little warmer. He loves being warm. It makes him feel not so crappy. He sighs as the water hits his back and lets his mind wander to the night before as he starts to cleanse himself of yesterday's filth.
He steps through the door into Ludwig's large house and feels himself automatically tense up from being around so many people. It makes him uncomfortable. He always feels like they're all staring at him.
'Calm down, idiot. Why would they stare at you? It's not like you matter' he thinks ruefully to himself. Oddly enough, it's the self loathing that calms him down. Really, who would be looking at him? He's just the lower, less interesting half of the Italian peninsula, after all.
But unfortunately for the little antihero of this story, someone was watching him.
Frances looked up from to see Romano leaning against the far wall glaring aimlessly at anything that was unfortunate enough to step into his line of site. Next to him his good friend Antonio was speaking animatedly, most likely about his tomato plants. He continued watching until the Spaniard spotted someone across the room and bid Romano fair-well. That's when the Frenchman made his move.
He walked lithely across the room, like a panther approaching his unsuspecting prey. Even being as far from sober as he was, he maintained a certain grace in all his movements. He managed to sneak up on the Italian, who was too lost in his own self hatred to notice the approaching danger.
"Well… if it isn't Mr. Abrasive himself. Now what could be occupying your thoughts so much that you did not notice the fabulous ME watching you from the other side of the room?" Frances whispered seductively in 'Mr. Abrasive's ear while lightly tugging on his curl. Romano swiftly turned to his direction and smacked him across the face before stalking off to the backyard of Germany's large home. Undeterred, France continued to follow him to the spacious back porch, where he found the Italian leaning against the wood railing. He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't notice the Frenchman creeping up on him once again or the fact that his ass was poking out in an ever so appetizing way…
"Well, I think your just TRYING to attract my attention…" Frances said lustfully, leaning into Lovino's rear-end. The red-head scoffed, and tried to push the offending body out of his personal space but found that he could not.
"Get off me, stronzo. I thought I already established that I don't like you." Romano stated angrily. Frenchy was really starting to tick him off. He knew that he was drunk but Frances was taking things a little too far.
Not that there was anything unusual about that.
"Aww. Why so mean, mon amour? I promise I'll be gentle."Frances said smoothly as he flipped the younger man around to face him.
"It's seems you can't understand me past all the liquor you've had. Let me make it clearer for you. PISS OFF." He pulled back his fist to punch the Frenchman square in the teeth, but it seems Frances was not quite as drunk as he had anticipated and was able to catch Lovino's fist mid-swing. The older man's eyes darkened.
"Now Lovi," The nation's voice dropping to a frightening tone. "You shouldn't have done a mean thing like that…" Frances takes the smaller man's hand and pins it against one of the support beams that hold up the roof over the porch.
"T-toni! ANTONIO!" The terrified country shouts as France begins unbuttoning his jeans. Antonio runs in breathless, just in time to see Romano knee his old friend in the balls. Hard.
"OOF!" The Frenchman slumps to the floor and passes out cold as several other interested countries gather to view the scene.
"What's… going on here?" The Spaniard asks cluelessly. Before he can stop himself, Romano starts sobbing quietly into his hands. Antonio rushes over and clutches his friend to his chest while the Italian mental screams at himself for being such a sissy.
'Man up! Your fine idiot! Don't cry like a pussy!' He forces himself to suck it up. He whimpers quietly against Spain's warm chest before addressing his concerned friend.
"C-can you d-drive me home?" he whispers softly. The Spaniard nods, leading the young man through the house. He pauses before leaving to speak with Gilbert.
"Bye Gilbo. I have to take Lovi home. Please tell France I am very angry with him and I will not speak to him until he apologizes."
"Mkay. I'll tell the idiot when he wakes up. Bye Toni. Bye Romano, sorry about Frances," Prussia said as his friend departed.
The drive was long and quite. Lovino was, surprisingly, the first one to break the silence.
"Umm…Toni?" the young nation whispered from his laying position in the back seat.
"Yes Lovino" The Spaniard questioned. He was still a little worried after the crying episode at Ludwig's house.
"Thanks. For… you know." He said shyly. Antonio couldn't help but grin.
"AWWW! Lovi that's so sweet!" Toni gushed, reverting back to his cheery, dimwitted self.
"Just shut up and pay attention to the road, dumbass," He says embarrassedly.
'Smooth, Vargas. Real smooth. Could you be any more of a dick?" He thinks, instantly regretting his choice in words.
"Lovi! Don't use such language! You should try and be a little nicer like your adorable brother, Feli," The Spaniard says in a joking, off-hand comment. But it cuts deep when Romano hears him say it. It felt like adding salt to an open wound.
Lovino doesn't speak the rest of the car ride home. He gives Spain a rushed goodbye and a quick 'thanks' before letting himself into his home.
A knock at the door stirs Romano from his reminiscing.
"Ve~ Lovi, breakfast is ready!" a cheery voice shouts over the noise of the shower. Romano sighs.
"Be out in a minute. Now GO AWAY." He states flatly. He finishes his shower, taking his time to rinse the blood caked on his arm. Ironically enough, he thinks cleaning the wound the morning after hurts much more than inflicting it. He lets out a slight hiss of pain as the hot water makes contact with the scared skin.
He proceeds with his morning as normal, if not a little gloomier. He spends the day laying in bed until 5 when his brother leaves to see a movie with Ludwig.
After that, he hangs himself. But it doesn't go exactly as planned. Instead of dying, he just keeps choking until he stops breathing and he passes out. But then he wakes back up and starts chocking all over again. He gives up after the 7th time. It leaves an ugly bruise on his neck that makes his brother question.
"I fell," he just keeps replying, refusing to go into too much detail.
And in this way he is able to continue on life as normal. I'm fine. I fell. I drank the drain-o accidentally. After a while, Feli stops questioning his brother's strange injuries.
But Antonio doesn't.
He knows something's wrong, he just can't figure out what. But he keeps pressing on in the hope that one day, Lovino will open up to him. But he doesn't. Because Lovino Vargas is not an open book. No, Lovino Vargas is a man diving deeper into his own misery.
Yay! First chappy is done! Not as dark and depressing as I hoped it would be. And I think I like the second chapter better. By the way, I wrote chapter 2 first.
Anyway, reviews are much appreciated! :3
Kthxbai.