It was already past noon by the time Antonio woke up. Running a hand through his short brown hair, Antonio glanced at the sky outside the window, forever blue, forever sunny, and forever smiling.
The sky's so perfect that it hurts.
It had only been yesterday when Lovino left for Italy, but it felt like he had lost him forever.
He was supposed to be drafting a proposal to his boss last night, but without Lovino around to nag at him to hurry up he just didn't have the drive to do any work; he ended up going to bed early and then oversleeping because Lovino wasn't there to wake him up in the morning.
Everything seems to be going wrong without Lovino.
Antonio gave a little sigh as he pushed himself off the bed, heading for the bathroom. What should come will come eventually, he thought to himself. This day would come sooner or later, he reasoned with himself, after all, Lovino can't just desert his brother and stay with him forever. Didn't he already know that? So why was he hurting like he couldn't breathe when he watched Lovino disappear into the distance?
And the question that he never got to ask.
… Lovino, do you like being here? Do you like… me?
He wanted to call out to Lovino as he walked away, he wanted to call him so badly, ask him to stay, but he just couldn't bring himself to say it.
What if … if it had only been his own wishful thinking, that Lovino had liked the times spent here with him, what if Lovino had hated him, hated him for separating him and his brother, and wanted nothing better than for this day to come, the day to leave?
But no matter how hard he wished for Lovino to stay, it didn't stop Lovino from walking forward, not even turning back once to say goodbye. And the fact that his life now consisted of one person less didn't affect the world in any way.
Time will move on, and so should we.
To return his life to its usual energetic pace again, Antonio decided to start the day by cleaning the house, starting with Lovino's old room. Since no one was going to live in that room any more, all the stuff inside would have to be cleared out.
Pushing the door open, Antonio couldn't help but wonder what this room really meant to Lovino. Did he really enjoy all the time spent here, or did he view this as the only barrier keeping him from his brother?
If only I knew what you were thinking.
He still remembered the first time Lovino was brought to his house. Frankly, he had found the young Italian really troublesome to deal with, with all his tantrums, he had considered more than once to go beg Roderich to switch Lovino for his brother. But it had only taken him a total of two days to regret going, because two days later there was a thunderstorm and Lovino was nowhere to be found, Antonio walked into the room only to see the young child curled up and trembling on the bed, covered from head to toe with a blanket, trying his very best not to make a sound as he sobbed into the pillow. For some reason he may never understand, the look on Lovino's face as he cried his heart out that night in his arms had hurt. And it was that very moment that he vowed to never let such a look cross Lovino's face again.
Well, it's useless to think about the past now, Antonio consoled himself half-heartedly, as he proceeded to change the sheets, and while removing the pillowcase he caught sight of a rectangular object under the pillow.
A sketchbook?
Purely out of curiosity, Antonio flipped through it and was rather shocked to see the contents of the sketchbook. Inside it there were many portraits, and most of them only featured one person.
Is that … me?
There were so many pictures of him, some of them still-shots of the life in the sunny Mediterranean, like the one of him working in the tomato fields, or napping on the couch (When did Lovi draw that? Wasn't he always sleeping?); some are more serious, made even more so by the dull colours, like the one of him covered in bandages (Ouch. That must have been Arthur.). He flipped to the most recent picture.
There was no smiling Spaniard in this one, it was just a really simple drawing of tomatoes and rain, and at the bottom right hand corner was signed the date three days ago, and below it there was something else written there, but the ink was so badly blotched by water that Antonio had difficulties making out the words.
I won't tell you, but I wish you could've known.
Is this how you really feel?
Or am I just dwelling in another one of my illusions?
Tell me.
Don't leave me in the dark.
A/N: This turned out longer than I intended originally, but thanks for reading! The third part should also be up by next week, and sorry for the slightly late update. Please tell me if I've made any mistakes, and I hope you've enjoyed it!