*Light Spamanoness*

Strawberry Milkshake

In his mind, Antonio predicted Lovino thought that it seemed like a simple plan. A single action that took only but a second. It was presumably painless, and healing and decimating at the same time. It was a solution, in a way. That he was scared yet resolute. That he knew what he had to do, and that he had to do it before it was too late. Before he changed his mind and talked himself out of it again.

In his mind, it played out in such a way: His hand trembled to the left of his temple, clutching such an object of a familiar shape, and for the third time that month, he'd cocked the gun with a satisfying click, preparing himself for what may occur. If he didn't drop it again.

And of course, this was only but a theory. He didn't know for sure, for he hadn't arrived yet.

"Lovino, I forgot my—"

Antonio emerged from the front door, the casual look fading as his gaze fell upon the suicide-in-progress.

For the longest time both figures daren't move. Antonio, wearing what he had been three hours prior to his visit earlier, with the except of his jacket draped over his shoulder rather than wrapped comfortably around his arms. Green shadows prodded at hazel, creating a murky, muddy pond. Shock turned to confusion to aghast.

Not a heartbeat was heard or felt in the room.

After for what seemed like the longest time, Antonio lunged forward over the coffee table, pushing Lovino down on the sofa, his first target being the pistol wrapped in five fingers. Antonio had the younger man pinned down on the cushions with an unidentified emotion falling from his eyes. Only shock was swimming in blue seas.

"What the—What do you think you're doing?!" he seethed.

Lovino dropped the gun as his hand fell limp.

"I… Just…" he looked longingly as the weapon now on the wooden planks of the floor.

"You just what? Because you owe me a pretty good excuse for me finding you with a freaking gun to your head."

The smaller man's eyes showed no interest in a direction at all; his mind found solitude elsewhere.

"Well, I don't… Have one," came the lame response.

Lovino's eyes seemed glossy and emotionless, and yet, truth rang out through his words. His wrists were reddening from Antonio's grip. In all his life, he had never seen Lovino go so long without cursing, and yet he hadn't seen him so emotionless in entirety. So apathetic and doing a deed that required such extreme emotion. Everything about it seemed like a dream, and yet reddened pinched skin disproved the theory.

And so, Antonio loosened his grip, though his muscles stayed tense. He glared at the gun on the floor and grasped it, chucking it at the window, hearing it shatter as the object flew off the balcony. And Lovino had yet to make a move. His body was still pressed firmly to the green fabric of the sofa with locks scattered aimlessly over his forehead and that one curl that always rebelliously danced in the air.

"You have no reason for what you've attempted?" Antonio confirmed with uncomfortable tension in his voice.

Lovino didn't answer, and what a change it was.

What a contrast.

From how he was like just yesterday—even a couple hours ago—that he yelled and cursed empty threats.

But looking back… What emotion was there behind his screaming voice?

There was no anger, no true anger behind his threats, no sincerity. There was no playful tone of a lover or any love hiding in the shadows of syllables for that matter. There was not elation or even sorrow under the sheets of ice. But looking back… There was no difference from now than from then, except for the lack of curse words; the lack of words at all.

Did anyone ever know him in the first place?

"Why are you here?" Lovino asked in a new voice. Curiosity.

"I… Don't remember anymore," was all Antonio could reply with.

"You're welcome to leave," such uncharacteristically words and phrases were fabricated.

"No I'm not, I'm saying here until you explain why you've attempted suicide."

And so they were quiet. Lovino made no noise and Antonio laid lazily on his back, and this lasted an hour, maybe two. Or three? It could have been even twelve minutes. There was no clock, and no mind to read one.

"How are you?" Antonio initiated conversation.

"Fine, and you?"

"How are you, Lovino?" the question was repeated.

"I'm good..?" Lovino's voice raised in skepticism.

"How are you feeling?"

"I'm doing alright."

"I'm going to keep asking you this question when you answer with the truth. How the hell are you feeling?"

And so Lovino didn't respond.

The ceiling caved in around him, or so it seemed to Antonio. And his heart was strewn into a barren field, yearning for water to grow stronger; taller. That maybe it could seep its roots under the sandy soil and that it would change from the red-brown seed to a green flourishing flower. But the sun continued to bake it until it shriveled smaller by the minute. Second.

"Why does the world take everything for what it sees?" Lovino whispered. "Can't they tell?"

Antonio couldn't.

"Why does everyone look up to my brother? Why do eyes follow him and ignore me? We look identical… and yet so different. We feel the same… and yet we act on different impulse. He smiles his sorrows away; I find them in tear-streaked cheeks and offensive shouts. We're one of the same, and yet the world sees us as polar opposites.

"Our loves ripped away from us and we couldn't do anything to stop it, though his returned. And the jealousy I feel and the longing I have, it can't force hatred onto my tattered heart. The envy that pulls me by the roots of my hair and screams at me, forcing tears from my eyes. And so I curse them out and yell at them, but it's always you who hears me. It's always the world who hears me. I'm labeled as rude and unpleasant.

"Why do you take everything for what you see? Well, I'm done… with you, this world. I'm done and exchanging the copper penny for the zinc.* I'm done, exchanging a beating heart for a dull one. There's just one equation that adds up unevenly, and that is: why would you stop me?"

Antonio didn't know quite how to respond.

Would you?

And so he wrapped his tanned arms around the smaller man's body and brought him closer in a comfort-inducing embrace. And like the lit wick of a candle was the action. The breeze had stopped around the flame and caressed it slowly, feeding oxygen and sheltering it from carbon dioxide. The flame daren't die down.

Lovino found his arms clutching Antonio's body closer desperately; searching for ground and an anchor.

"I'm here, Lovino," Antonio whispered. "It's okay, I'm here."

"I know you're here, just shut up," Lovino growled into his shirt.

Antonio laughed lightly before his expression returned back to normal. His hands ran through Lovino's chocolate-brown hair in comfort, humming a Spanish lullaby in his ear. He felt Lovino relax in his embrace and this relaxed Antonio as well. Letting a small smile grace his face, Antonio kissed the top of Lovino's head protectively.

"You know I'd do anything to help you, right?" he asked in a small voice.

Lovino didn't respond.

"I would," he answered for him quietly, breathing in the scent of his shampoo.

Lovino's grip on him tightened.

The clock pulled time along and the sun hid behind the horizon.

"Can you—Would you… Stay here tonight?" Lovino whispered hoarsely.

Antonio smiled and pet his hair again. "Of course."

Lovino made himself more comfortable on Antonio's chest and it was then Antonio realized Lovino wanted to sleep on the floor. On him.

Smiling, he picked him up.

"Come on, I'll take you to your bed," the words flowed gently.

Lovino had a single bed in his bedroom, but he still asked Antonio with red-dusted cheeks. Antonio, of course, agreed without reluctance and slid under the blanket with him. He held his body close to him, afraid if he let go he'd wake up without him. Both of the bed and of the word.

The two fell asleep in the warmth of an embrace and of bittersweet sprinkles on a strawberry milkshake.

I hope you enjoyed it to some extent, crappy writing is crappy but whatever. Like it if you'd like to~