Hello everyone! Thank you so much for reading, reviewing, following and/or favouriting! I'm back with the second chapter. :D

I have to go for therapy tomorrow, and I'm not looking forward to it. I haven't done anything the school counsellor has asked me to do. I haven't written one happy thing per day and I haven't reflected on my triggers. But fuck it - writing makes me feel at least a percent better, so I'm going to just do it.

Also, well, I wanted to talk a bit more about why I'm writing this - I've been to the drugstore before to buy plasters - and yes, I have gotten the discounted bundle with two hundred plasters (I always get the discounted bundle) - and there was this once when the cashier asked me if I had injured myself. I said no, and told her that I was buying the plasters for my school's first-aid kit. It made me wonder: what if someone was like me, just buying too many first-aid materials and a stranger notices and gets the feeling that the first-aid things aren't actually for what they seemed to be for? Given my over-imaginative mind, I started thinking of a story from there: what if the stranger approached that person and then they actually find a friend in each other? Yeah, I know, it's almost impossible for that to happen in real life. People don't even ask if they notice I always have plasters on my wrist. But hey, if it ever happens to someone I'd be really happy for them, so.

Enjoy!


The bold defiance in the amber eyes that meet his shocks him, and Antonio takes a step back unconsciously, feeling rising panic in his chest. I shouldn't have looked I shouldn't have looked I should have just stayed out of his way oh god why can't I ever do things right –

"-ey! Are you alright? What's gotten into you?"

Antonio realizes that Lovino is talking to him, his tone clipped and annoyed, and he gives himself three seconds to recover before shaking his head and forcing a smile. "Nothing, I just wanted to buy these."

Lovino glances at the boxes and grunts, flipping them over to scan the barcode, while Antonio notices how the dark blue uniform of the drug store employees brings out Lovino's fair skin and the way his hair falls across his face so smoothly like silk. His own hand reaches up to comb his unruly curls back, but they remain as untamed as ever.

"Why do you need so many plasters anyway?" Lovino's voice carries no unkindness, only a certain curiosity that all employers loathed. Antonio doesn't reply instantly, but instead chooses to observe the way Lovino's thin fingers deposit the boxes into a purple plastic bag.

"I need to replenish my first-aid kit at home," he responds, smiling sheepishly despite how his wrist, safely hidden under the sleeve of his sweater, suddenly feels itchy. When he takes the bag from Lovino, their fingers brush and Antonio swears he feels a surge of something; something different from the anger and sadness and regret he has been feeling for too long a time. He swears that maybe, just for a second, he feels slightly more alive and his heart grows a little lighter – but it's probably just a figment of his imagination.

Lovino arches an eyebrow and leans forwards on his elbows. "Really?"

Antonio makes the mistake of looking into those piercing eyes again, and he gets the feeling that Lovino is the kind of person who would be able to see through lies. But he has been through this before; and he's sure he can do it again.

Antonio straightens up and widens his smile, looking the other man in the eye. I can do this. I can do this. He has been an actor for most of his life, and playing the happy-go-lucky guy has been the role he's most talented at. It's all about facial expression and composure; even when he feels like he's going to crumble into pieces inside, he has become a professional at raising his walls back up again. He's a great actor, alright; but behind those velvet curtains and bright smiles of his lie wreckage and ruin. Yet, all the audience ever sees is what is put up for them. All they ever believe is what Antonio chooses to show. The applause given is never for him, but for the role he acts out. Occasionally, he muses about how it would be nice for this terribly long show to finally come to an end. After all, people get bored eventually. Such is the sad truth about performers, and such is the sad truth about Antonio Fernández Carriedo.

Of course, he isn't really starring in movies and walking the red carpet; he just likes to think about his life that way. His backstage is really an office in a publishing company, his script is really a bunch of monthly letters sent in by people asking for advice, and his props are really the laptop that he uses to type out his responses in the advice column.

Still, he switches from Antonio the Columnist to Antonio the Actor and replies with a confident "well, there was a discount", covered with a thin layer of mirth that brings the slightest of smiles to Lovino's lips, and Antonio silently congratulates himself.

The cashier snorts, and keeps the notes Antonio passes to him into the cash register. The tray closes with a bang, and Lovino surprises Antonio by grabbing two rectangular boxes from the shelf beside the counter and brandishing them in front of him.

"These are on discount too. Want them?" Lovino is smirking in a way that does weird things to Antonio's stomach, a hint of something in the prolonged emptiness he has felt since it started. The latter reads the labels on the pink boxes: "Pure Ecstasy. Designed for Extra Comfort and Pleasure" and he laughs – not only because it's in his script but also because of how Lovino's cheeks immediately colour, as if he's regretting making such a move.

The brunette puts the boxes back, suddenly bashful, and disappears into a room after muttering something about checking the stock for bandages. Antonio stares at the pencil Lovino has left on the countertop for a few seconds before turning to leave, feeling the hollowness gradually take over again.