Title: It's Not Me, It's Him
Summary: It may not have been all Lovino's fault, but it certainly wasn't Feliciano's either. Feli wasn't the one who had hurt his brother so.
Warning: light incest (N. Italy/S. Italy), gay, implied anti-something/Romano
Prompt 7 of 64: Opposite
A/N:
Non-planned, spur-of-the-moment, crappy fic so I could get that FF flow going again.
...WRITER'S BLOCK SUCKS…SO BAD. /sob
Lovino scowled, glaring at his reflection with distaste, attempting to keep ahold of the too big pants. His tiny, chubby hands gripped at the wool trousers, hoisting them above his tiny hips, above his belly button, before pressing it tightly against his bare skin…and letting go.
It dropped, folding like an accordion and landing in little chaotic waves.
Lovino huffed, dragging the pants back up the length of his gangly legs, past the bony hills of his kneecaps, the bruised skin of his thighs, and again beyond the angular hips.
He held it tightly, the waistband leaving pink indents in his skin.
"Lovi…"
He squeaked irately and his grip on the clothing slacked. He turned huffily to the intruder. "What do you want, stupid?"
"I can see your undies, Lovi." Feliciano stood in the doorway, oven mitts covered his hands as his lips flicked up at the ends. "Lunch is ready." He flashed his teeth at Lovino before turning and leaving, his curl bouncing as he near-skipped.
Lovino sighed through his nose, examining himself and the too-big pants in the mirror again. He eventually gave up on expecting them to magically fit, and stepped out of the pant legs before folding them over his arm. He folded them again and once more until they were satisfactory. He turned to his bed, where an open box lay. Lovino settled the pants in and placed upon them a sheet of soft tissue paper, yellowed slightly with age.
"Lovi,the pasta is getting cold!'
"I'm coming," Lovino mumbled haughtily under his breath, quickly putting the cover on the box and shuffling over to his closet, placing the pants on the top shelf, having to stretch to put it there.
Lovino put on a pair of fitting pants, stuffing his hands deep into his pockets as he walked to the kitchen, scoffing his feet until he came up behind his brother.
Feliciano was busying himself with setting the table, erasing any wrinkles in the table cloth, and folding the napkins into paper swans.
"Did you use the good tomatoes this time? Not the shitty, mushy ones from him."
Feliciano turned, "Of course, Lovi." He smiled daintily, placing his hands delicately on Lovino's shoulders before kissing him at the corner of his lips. "Anything for you, Lovi." Another kiss, at the opposite corner. "Anything."
Lovino stuttered profanities.
Feliciano kissed his ear, and paused, unsure, before whispering, "I'd even get rid of the memories, if you'd like." Lovino quieted, allowing Feliciano to kiss him once more on the jawline before turning from his brother's grasp, and walking off down the hall.
"I'm gonna go wash my hands."
Feliciano watched him walk off, fading into the unlit halls. He bit his lip as he fidgeted with his apron, running the hem of the cloth underneath his fingernails. Anxiety sparked along his skin, jumping from the hairs on his arms and neck, making him shake.
Feliciano tapped himself delicately on the nose. He mumbled to himself Latin quotes of strength Grandfather Rome used to tell him as he busied himself with cleaning the kitchen until Lovino returned.
"Post tenebras lux… Post tenebras lux… Post—"
"The spaghetti—"
"Oh, Lovi," Feliciano smiled at his brother over his shoulder as he slipped his apron over his head, hanging it on its respective hook.
"It…it's getting cold." Lovino sat at the table, fidgeting with his silverware. "The spaghetti, I mean."
"Oh, yes, I suppose it…it is." Feliciano nodded delicately, looking down at his feet.
"Y'know…it doesn't matter." Lovino groaned. "He doesn't matter, I mean."
Feliciano looked up, then back at his feet before asking, "Did you really love him?"
Lovino frowned. "Of course not!"
Feliciano shot him a glare, Lovino quickly looked away. "I may be a bit on the ditzy side, Lovi, but I'm not stupid."
Silence.
Eventually, Feliciano sat down, leaving the option for his brother to follow if he wished. He began to eat, knowing that Lovino was watching him out of the corner of his eye.
And eventually, Lovino sat down, too.
Quiet.
Except for the sounds of chewing and silverware clattering on plastic plates.
Lovino eventually answered Feliciano's question. "Yes," he muttered, through bites of pasta.
"I know."
"But…he was before. You're now, right?" Feliciano looked up at his brother and sighed.
"I'm now, but you've never been able to deal with 'now'. Not when we were children, not when we were teenagers, not when we were in our twenties, struggling to figure it out and come out on top. Not when bimbo number one came along, and certainly not bimbo number twenty-four, or thirty-six or fifty-three. Not any of the men or women or…or transvestites in between him—your first—and me—your 'now'." Feliciano said it all with a calm face and a strong mind, careful not to tear up in the middle of his speech. He smiled and his brother from across the table. "I don't care anymore, Lovi. What's done is done. And when you're done, I'll just be bimbo number sixty-two and you'll still believe you're invincible, and that as long as you keep yourself at arms length from everyone else, you'll stay that way."
Lovino had his hands between his thighs, tears welling up in his eyes, struggling to try to keep them down.
Feliciano stood, still smiling, and picked up his plate before motioning to Lovino's. "Are you finished, fratello?"
A/N:
Post tenebras lux— After the darkness, light (Latin)
Fratello— brother (Italian)
Okay, so, yeah, maybe it is Romano's fault. :U wuteva…
Short, short, short (and horribly rushed), but I'm happy to be writing again. ;w;
Yeah, I can't really explain it, but I meant to keep the back story kind of vague… I know that's mean and all…but if I were to go into details and explain everything it'd get away from the main point of the story, and it'd probably fall apart and become boring.
"He" can be whomever you want—I personally meant for it to be Spain, but I don't really mind if you change it to be France or…hell, Holland or Canada. I meant for the pants to be a sort of "souvenir" from when Lovino lived with Spain and when he wanted to grow up to be as "big and strong and manry" as him.
Going to be super busy getting ready for Anime Detour. :'D So happpppppyyy. (I'm going to die... orz)