"I'm sorry, Soldier."
It was becoming increasingly harder to breathe, the air seeming to get thicker and thicker, harder for the dark-haired man to respire. It was as though he'd had all of the oxygen squeezed out of his lungs before being shoved into an atmosphere containing only carbon dioxide. It was suffocating.
"We identified the bodies; they were positive, just as we thought. Commodore Augustus Vargas and your brother are both deceased. Taken out during an interception in the last mission to-"
Seeing the expression on Lieutenant Lovino Vargas' face, Commander Fernandez-Carriedo faltered, the Spaniard's pulse halting for a moment or two. It had to be the first time he had seen such an array of emotion on the Lieutenant's usual poker-face, and by Jove, it was livid; his steely, metallic green eyes had darkened to blackened orbs of pure rage, the irises swirling dangerously, with the consistency of molten mercury. His chest had swelled, his olive skin glistening with a light sheen of sweat. Wondering what the Sicilian was going to do, the Spaniard braced himself, sitting back slightly in his seat, his meadow green eyes widening a little. He could see - from his spot behind the desk - that Lovino's fists were clenched at his sides, the knuckles turning white. His hands were shaking, his adams apple bobbing in his throat.
Carriedo flinched - he knew it was only a matter of time before the Lieutenant blew a fuse.
"This is your fault, you piece of shit. You and your shitty missions. Everything I've gone through, everything to keep my brother safe, and you've just pissed on that with another of your shitty experiments to find a fucking military base that has already been taken over. Are you fucking kidding me? Are you telling me that I have just wasted half of my mother fucking life?" His voice was trembling, his calm and deadly tone rising dangerously, "You complete and utter anal-mouthed, shit-faced Spanish bastard!"
Antonio swallowed past the lump in his throat. He needed to remain calm. If he lost his temper, too, his bond with the Lieutenant would just be broken beyond repair. It hurt; the look of betrayal in Lovino's eyes, the hatred in his voice...
"Lovino, please. Their deaths were inevitable, there was nothing anyone could have done to prevent-"
"You could have aborted the fucking mission is what!"
"Lieutenant Vargas, please refrain from shouting. Calm down; this won't end well."
The Italian's eyes were ablaze with fury, his teeth clenched, his chiselled jaw set, the dusting of stubble becoming more prominent. His nostrils flared a little. He was like an ill-tempered bull, a minotaur of a man. One that the Commander desperately needed to tame down before things fired up even more.
"Calm down? Calm down? Don't tell me to calm down, you shitty excuse of a senior! You can't do fuck all; you can't tell me what to do. I'm not going to obey your commands. Fuck you; you can't even organise a fucking supplies mission without killing off at least three soldiers! What kind of Wing-Commander are you? How would you feel if it was your family? I'll wipe my ass with your stupid missions-"
"Lovino Julius Vargas!" The Commander abruptly stood from his desk, almost toppling his chair in the process, his peaceful green eyes suddenly thronged with anger.
"Don't you dare insult the way I work! I'm doing all that I can to protect my soldiers-"
"Protecting them? My ass! You just sent the last remaining members of my whole fucking family to their deaths. Do you have no remorse, shit-head?"
"That is enough!"
"Fuck off!"
A tooth skittered off along the floor. A flicker of blood stained the white linen front of Antonio's shirt. Before Lovino could control his actions, he had punched the Commander square in the jaw, his knuckles cracking and the Spaniard's tooth crunching beneath his fist.
The taller man towered over the dark-haired Italian, his lip split and bloodied.
"Lovino." He growled softly.
The shorter male had his head of dark, almost black hair on the desk, his fingers clasped together near the bottom of his occipital bone. His breathing was shallow and laboured, and it took the Spaniard a moment to calm himself down, a moment to realise what was going on.
The shaking of the Lieutenant's shoulders as he lay slumped against the desk told him the obvious.
Carriedo's strong brow lowered, his lips pursing. His high cheekbones became subtly more defined, his cleanly shaven jaw locking, also. He ignored the pain from where his tooth had been. It was one of the ones at the back, and he had to admit; the Italian could swing a pretty good punch.
He heard a muffled sniff to his left.
His chest suddenly throbbed, a horrid ache jolting through his body. He sighed softly, and combed his fingers through his unkempt, ash-brown hair.
Moving slowly, so as not to provoke the Lieutenant even more, the Commander laid his hand down, gently to the other's shoulder. Lovino flinched under his large, warm hand, stubbornly refusing to lift his head from the table. A stray curl stuck out near the front of his head, laying loosely on the wood.
The Italian sniffed again, his breath hitching.
"I-I just can't..." He choked out as Antonio slid his arm around his shoulders, "They were my only family..."
"I know, Lovino... I'm sorry." The Commander knelt beside him, apologising, even though he knew damn well that 'sorry' just wasn't good enough this time. How could the Lieutenant ever forgive him? More so, how could he forgive himself?
For the split second that Antonio's eyes had closed, he'd felt the Italian collapse onto the floor, to his knees next to him, at the corner of the desk. The next thing he felt was the instant warmth and security as the Italian's strong, muscular arms wrapped around his waist, the tip of his nose against his neck, his face buried in his shoulder.
It was the first time Antonio had ever seen the Lieutenant cry.