Pain
Without Love
Pain
Can't Get Enough
His arms were canvases. A lace for art. A place where a knife would press, time and time again creating bloody art hidden beneath sleaves. And it was all. It was control. It was relief.
He didn't deserve anything. He was stupid. Useless. Broken. No one would want the man who was no good at anything. So he painted with blood and tried harder, but still, he was struck down.
People always preferred his brother. They preferred his brothers attitude and his gelato, his smile, his hair, his eyes. The list was endless. No one preferred Lovino. No one preferred the grumpy brother who put his life into what he did and wasn't appreciated. People didn't understand how they hurt him when they asked for "Feli's gelato, the other's no good".
Sometimes he wanted to be the man across the street. Sometimes he wished he could finally take his life instead of making all these useless cuts. His brother was the only one who cared. Lovino tried to be nice, but everyone rejected him still.
He was so close to giving up. So close to becoming another pile of ashes in the polluted river. So close to kissing Feliciano goodbye and leaving, once and for all.
Lovino remembered. He remembered when he had held his tiny newborn brother at four years old. He remembered realizing when he was ten 'No one needs me anyway. They have Feliciano'. And it was true. It was true then and it was true now. It was always true
The blonde businessman was in love with Feli, the Canadian assistant liked Feli's maple syrup gelato. The chef and his waiter used Feli to draw their signs. The bookstore owner preferred the happy Italian. The punk and his boyfriend didn't even know Lovino existed, only Feli. The frenchman only flirted with his brother. The only one who might not hate him was the tired Spaniard, asking for his gelato, his small sister preferring Feliciano's flowers.
That night, he thanked the Spaniard. He kissed his brother and told him he loved him. The moon shone brightly over the river. And his faithful blade made stroke after stroke, until he passed out and fell into the freezing water, death claiming the elder Vargas. And he was happy to go.
Pain
I like it rough
'cause I'd rather feel pain
than nothing at all
