It was a long night. And not the first one. Recently it seems that all nights have been murderous. After all, night when was when I was always at my best, so I guess it's just my luck that it's now at that same time that I would be at my worst.

I have nothing to do at that time anymore, which doesn't help that now, unlike two months ago, I have some place to be in the morning. This insomnia that I'm going through, it could get me fire.

Fuck.

It would seem that trying to 'turn my life around, isn't as easy as I first expected it to be. Then again, I told myself a million times at least, not to set my hopes to high. And that if it becomes to much, I could just turn around and quit.

Pops wouldn't approve; he never does. He'd send me right back to that rehab, longer this time. I wanted something out of this too, though, didn't I?

That's right... I wanted to prove everyone that what I was doing was a choice. That I wasn't a helpless addict or miserable statistic. That I could could change if I wanted.

But, going back to my old ways would be a lot easier than fighting the way I am now. Temptation lays at every corner; under every shining street lamp, there's bound to be a dark figure lurking. How long am I really expected to resist...

Lovino P. Vargas, seventeen years old. He also goes by 'Romano.'

Ask him what the 'P' in his name stands for and he'll kick your ass! Or, at least... he would have, two months ago. He would have done anything short of prostitution and selling his soul to Satan two months ago, just to get some pocket change and an adrenalin high.

But it would seem his old man, owner of the fortune 500 company our protagonist is suppose to procure, found out about all the bad thing Lovino's been getting mixed up in.

The drug deals, the shoot outs, the fight clubs, the pits.

And he didn't like it.

Not at all...

"Human trash Romano!" He yelled his sons second name, in that superior tone he tends to get when he's angry or at a meeting, just dealing with Lovino in general. "I don't know why you intend on letting this kind of filth pollute and ruin your life! Take responsibility! That's it; three months to turn this around. FIX IT!"

He then scowled angrily, started to march away, before turning back to add something completely unnecessary, and unintentionally cruel: "What's the matter with you. No way I can leave all my hard work in the hands of some delinquent, even if he is kin! Why can't you be like your brother?" Then he left.

Wow dad, really know how to stab a guy in the heart, don't you?

If there was anything in the world Lovino detested, it was being compared to his younger twin, Feliciano P. Vargas (no, they don't have the same middle name!).

Not that he didn't like his brother. He loved Feli more than anyone else in the entire world! Not that he'd ever admit it...

But the bitter reality that he always has failed where Feliciano succeeded, was a sharp, almost physical, blow. And how their father and almost the entire rest of the planet liked to compare them all the time, was just salt in his wound; rub it in why don't you!

So, yes. Lovino felt like shit.

All the time.

And he hated feeling like that.

Which led to drugs, and other thing looked down upon.

Lots of drugs.

And then, his father sent him to rehab.

Fuck.

Not that Lovino wasn't going to cooperate. He went to all his classes, stopped doing the minimum drugs that he did take and went to his private sessions. He was determined to prove to his father he wasn't useless or a waste of oxygen.

Rehab didn't have the biggest effect on Roma; he wasn't particularly hoked on anything but the adrenaline. But o his second week, his councilor said something that just put him in the mood to cry.

"Lovino Vargas, you've only been seeing me a short time, but I've already managed to fix you!" The psychiatrist was just patting herself on the back for Romano's progress, but the young Italian looked at her in tears before breaking down into a tight ball of sobs. Dr. Anri Gelti promptly panicked and called a nearby guard who rushed him to get sedated.

It was just a small out burst, and it only happened once. After that, Lovino kept going to sessions, and he tried not to talk about it.

However, after the incident, he had trouble staying asleep. only remaining in dreamless slumber for maybe an hour or two, most nights, not at all...

But after a month in rehab, and a month (so far) of living on his own in a high class apartment (which he will never feel comfortable in), he is pretty stable.

Well, as stable as Lovino can be. He still has some nasty habits.

like now for instance.

Instead of sleeping like the rest of the world, he had been up. All night. And currently sits on the edge of his tub, a blade taken from one of the complimentary razors in hand, as he waste time cutting into his arm.

He traces over the faint lines of old dulled out scars, and reopens the more recent not-completely-finished-healing one, along with creating brand new cut every where from his elbow to his wrist.

He watches the coppery-red drip and guzzle out into the tub bellow him, turning the water from clear to murky scarlet. At the same time, he watches the clock.

...tick...tick...tick...tick...

Patiently he waits for it to read '8:oo' so he can jump in the shower and run to work, morning freeing him from the suffocating confines of Night.

And as a mighty *BEEP BEEP BEEP* blares out, alarming him that his dreams have became reality, his quickly drains the tub and turns on the water for a hot shower. Taking extra care to when washing his abused arm.

When he got out, he then bandaged up said limb, threw on a long sleeved shirt. Lovino always wore long sleeve shirts. Better that than have people see. Lovino wasn't 100% certain that he had insecurities. But if he did, he sure as hell didn't want other people to see them!

So he bandaged up and covered up, even in a hot summer like this one.

Once dressed, Lovino took time leaving the lovely apartment his father gave him, that he will never refer to as home, and heading straight to the lobby to get his mail.

Lovino didn't get real mail. The few letters he did receive were from his 'idiot' twin Feli, or those punks he left who insist he isn't allowed to leave.

Romano doesn't ever reply to either.

Of course he wouldn't reply to the 'human trash' they just want his brains and talent back to make profit. That, and he kinda knew 'too much.'

And, as a personal rule, he wouldn't reward himself with the blessing of his brothers kind words or company until the third month. So he didn't even read those letters, despite a new on every day...

Romano, wasting no time, waved bye to Katyusha, the busy receptionist at the hotel, who smiled back, and then was out the door.