Autumn, 1939
A village in Italy
.
"Don't get too far ahead, Feliciano!" called Grandpa Roma. It was a sunny autumn morning, and the village bustled with activity as Lovino and Grandpa Roma walked leisurely along the cobblestone streets. In the last few months, the everyday, unchanging village existence Lovino had lived in his entire life had turned upside down. Already there was not enough produce at the market. People whispered on street corners, dark murmurings and rumours and half broken conversations. Grandpa Roma spent all his time at the old Cantina Verde talking with people instead of in the fields. But today, with the sun shining and the streets crowded, it almost seemed like a normal day in the village once again. It was a nice change. People stopped frequently to say good morning to Roma or to give a cheerful greeting to Feliciano, though Lovino was not surprised that no one spared a moment for him. The three of them were headed to the cantina, and as usual Feliciano kept getting excited over nothing, skipping and running ahead.
"I can't help it that you're walking so slow!" Feliciano called back. "Hurry up, we have to stop at the fountain, Lovino and I always stop at the fountain when we come to town, I even have a coin and I already know what I'm going to wish for and oh, hello Antonio!"
Lovino nearly tripped over. His pulse quickened when he caught sight of Antonio walking through the crowd and waving cheerfully. "Good morning, Feli! Roma." Antonio's smile brightened. "Lovino." Lovino quickly averted his eyes.
Antonio had come and gone frequently from the village in the last months, but these last few days were the longest he had stayed since he had first dropped into their lives back in spring. Lovino had spent the days trying unsuccessfully to ignore both Antonio and the way he made him feel. Although Antonio had not said anything to make Lovino punch him again, he still managed to make Lovino's heart pound uncomfortably and cause an unwanted and embarrassing blush to spread from his neck. Especially when he thought he caught Antonio staring at him… he was never quite sure, however, since the Spaniard always looked away immediately. Antonio was so friendly, so happy, so different to everyone else who always ignored Lovino in favour of his little brother. Even the way Antonio said Lovino's name was different. Lovino was not sure how to understand it – a grown man should not make him feel like this. It was frustrating, and confusing, and just a little scary… but also, secretly, strangely new and exciting.
Roma stopped briefly and shook Antonio's hand affectionately in greeting. "Antonio! Are you just heading to the cantina now? Your rooms are directly opposite, aren't they?"
"They are, but it is such a fine morning I had to take a walk. If you are headed that way now, I'll join you." They continued walking with Antonio beside them; Lovino ignoring him, Feliciano jumping excitedly around him.
"Antonio, will you come to the fountain with us? Lovino and I are going to throw in coins the way Grandpa says they do in Rome and make wishes and…"
"You're going to, Feliciano, I don't do that sort of thing," said Lovino quickly.
Feliciano turned and looked at him strangely. "Yes you do."
Lovino tried to stop his cheeks from burning. "I used to, when I was a kid!"
"But you did it last week, remember, you wished for a guitar like you always… ow! Why did you kick me, Lovino?"
Antonio laughed loudly. "That sounds like fun, Feliciano! I think I'll throw a coin in myself!"
"What will you wish for?" asked Feliciano eagerly.
"Ah, but if you tell anyone what you wish for, it won't come true." Antonio winked at Lovino. Lovino scowled back.
Feliciano's face fell. "Really? But I always tell Lovino what I wish for, and my wishes always come true…"
"That's because you wish for pasta," said Lovino, slightly exasperated. "Every single time you wish for pasta, and then we go home and have pasta, and you act all surprised that your wish came true."
"But I can never think of anything else I want!"
Lovino rolled his eyes at Grandpa Roma, who just laughed affectionately. Offered his choice of anything in the entire world, Feliciano would naturally choose a bowl of pasta.
"Don't listen to your brother, Feliciano," said Roma merrily. "There are worse things you could…"
The street grew suddenly quiet, Roma trailing off as the heavy, even sound of marching approached. Lovino did not see who it was before Grandpa Roma stepped in front of him and used his arm to push Lovino back off the street. Beside them Antonio did the same to Feliciano. Everyone on the road shrunk back as the marching footsteps grew closer. Lovino peered around Roma's shoulder as rows of black-garbed military marched down the street, their weapons conspicuously on display, the sound of their boots echoing sinisterly off the silent buildings and the sweep of their eyes seeming to drown out the sun. Lovino trembled slightly in spite of himself, watching them march past with a strange mixture of anger and fear and uncertainty. Beside him Feliciano had his eyes squeezed shut as he clung, shaking, to the back of Antonio's shirt. When the troops finally reached the end of the street and turned into the town square, Lovino let out a deep breath and looked from Grandpa Roma to Antonio. Their faces were blank.
"Who are they?" asked Feliciano softly, his voice trembling.
"Fasci di Combattimento," said Antonio flatly. "Blackshirts."
"No one," said Roma immediately. "Lovino, take Feliciano to the cantina. Go the back way."
"Why?" asked Lovino angrily. "Where are you going?"
"Lovino," said Roma warningly. "Take Feliciano to the cantina. We will not be far behind."
"They're the government forces, aren't they?" asked Lovino insistently, ignoring Roma's command as long as he could. Lovino knew that Grandpa Roma had always been opposed to the fascist government. But these things never seemed of much importance in their little corner of Italy, where talk of the government and its movements was practically nonexistent. Or had been, until recently. "They're the fascist ones, the ones that agree with Germ..."
"LOVINO!" Lovino jumped at Roma's shout, and Feliciano actually gasped. Roma closed his eyes, smoothed his forehead, then forced his lips into a smile. He leant forward slightly and spoke softly. "You are right, Lovino, of course. But we don't speak of these things in the street. Now you will look after your brother, won't you?"
Lovino narrowed his eyes. That was playing dirty... of course Lovino would look after Feliciano. Looking sideways at his brother, Lovino could see that he was terrified. He sighed wearily to himself and took Feliciano's hand. Feliciano clung to it immediately. "Fine. We'll be at the cantina."
"Good boy," said Roma. Lovino glanced at Antonio quickly, embarrassed, but barely registered the man's expression before turning away.
"Come on, Feliciano, let's go have some of that lemonade you like."
Feliciano followed eagerly. Lovino walked away reluctantly, but not before he heard Roma's words behind him. "They are here, finally. That must mean they have a list of citizens."
"Don't worry, Roma." Antonio's words voice sent an unfamiliar thrill down Lovino's spine. "I'll get you that list."
.
Lovino sat alone and ignored at the cantina, carelessly swinging his feet from a table and crossing his arms sullenly. Feliciano sat at a table in the corner, so engrossed in the picture he was drawing he had barely looked up for an hour. Lovino stared at the closed door to the next room, silently fuming as Grandpa Roma and Antonio carried on a private conversation that Lovino was, once again, denied from hearing. He was sick of never being told anything, of being treated like a child. Grandpa Roma had already explained they were a resistance, but Lovino did not even know what that meant except that he was never allowed to speak of it and never allowed to know exactly what was going on. But he wanted to know. He wanted to know what this 'information' Antonio always brought with him was. He wanted to know where Antonio went when he disappeared for weeks at a time. But more than anything, Lovino burned with curiosity to know what Grandpa Roma and Antonio and the rest of the Resistenza actually did when they went on these 'missions' that seemed so important, missions they spent days planning with maps and weapons and secrecy.
Lovino glanced from Feliciano to the closed door. Surely his brother would not notice if he went and listened… Lovino's curiosity quickly got the better of him. Lovino was quite used to this by now, but if no one ever told him anything, what other choice did he have? He jumped off the table and hurried over to the door to catch what sounded like the end of the conversation.
"Get in and get out, Antonio. You have the false information for them?"
"I have everything. Don't worry, Roma. I've dealt with this man before, it will take me only minutes to get that list."
"Good. Because minutes is all you have. There is a car for you at the end of the street. The one marked with red."
Lovino did not stop to think. If he did, he might start to reason with himself. He might force himself to stop and analyse the situation. He might realise that this was an incredibly stupid thing to do. But he refused to do any of that. He just ran from the cantina, ran to the end of the street, and stopped when he saw a vehicle parked alone with a small red cloth hanging from the window. It was more a truck than a car, the tray at the back completely smothered by a dark canvas covering. His heart pounding, his skin burning, but his mind still refusing to think, Lovino rushed over and threw the heavy material back. Then, determined not to think about what he was doing, he climbed into the back of the truck and threw the covering back over himself.
Darkness engulfed him and a strong, unpleasant metallic smell overpowered his senses. Lovino fought to control his rapid heartbeat and his harsh, heavy breathing. Fought to remain calm. He was going to see what was going on. He was going to be involved in this. He was going to force them all to finally tell him exactly what a resistance actually did. But with only blackness before his eyes, and everything silent but for the blood pulsing in his ears, Lovino's mind finally started to turn. What the hell had he done? What was he doing? Why the hell was he sitting here in the back of this truck about to go God knows where for God knows what reason? Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all...
A deep guttural roar tore through the back of the truck, the vehicle shaking as the engine blasted to life. Fear rose in Lovino's throat. He clawed urgently at the covering, but it was too late. The truck took off and Lovino could do nothing but sit in the dark, willing his frantic heart to slow down, trying to stop himself thinking again. Thankfully the drive was not far, though Lovino was sure it felt longer than it actually was. He wasn't sure whether to feel relieved or terrified when the truck finally stopped and the engine fell quiet. And when he heard Antonio's voice only right beside him, Lovino didn't know if he wanted to jump out of the truck and cling to him desperately or just jump out of the truck and run the hell away. He decided his best bet was just to stay where he was until this whole business was over. No one would ever even know he was here…
"Are all the civilians out of the building?" came Antonio's voice. Lovino found it oddly reassuring, then felt immediately angry that he did.
"All out," replied an unfamiliar voice. "Only your two blackshirts in there. You've got twenty minutes, Carriedo. Twenty minutes and I'll have this car blown sky high."
Lovino was sure he felt his heart stop in his chest. He couldn't breathe. So much for staying where he was…
"I'll have what I need by then," said Antonio.
"Good," replied the stranger's voice. "I won't be in sight. So do not be late, understand?"
"Right." Lovino waited as long as he dared, his heart pounding, sweat rising at the edges of his hair. Finally, knowing he could not stay in the truck, and hoping the stranger had gone, Lovino knocked frantically against the wall beside him. Only a second later the cover flew away above him, he blinked in the sudden sunlight, and Antonio swore loudly. "Mierda!"
"Please don't blow me up," Lovino whispered.
"What the… ay Dios mio… damn it, Lovino, you have to get out of this car." Antonio grabbed Lovino by the arm and helped him scramble out of the truck. His expression was completely shocked. "What the hell are you doing here?"
His feet stumbling to the ground, Lovino scowled angrily and prepared a vicious verbal attack. "I just wanted to see what you were doing, no one tells me anything, I…"
"Listen to me." Lovino fell quiet at the chilling, warning tone in Antonio's voice. He had never heard it before. "I don't know what you're thinking, but you have to do what I say now, understand?"
Lovino mustered just enough irritation through his alarm to sound indignant. "Who the hell do you think..."
"Lovino, I am deadly serious." And then Lovino fell silent again. Antonio had never spoken like this before. He was like a different person. "Keep quiet," Antonio continued. "Do not say a word. Stay by my side. And promise me, that you will do everything I say, no questions."
"I..."
"Promise me." Antonio's eyes were hard, his voice commanding. Lovino gulped back another protest.
"I promise." Lovino was almost surprised at his words, but he did not seem to have an option to do or say otherwise.
Someone appeared at the door of the building beside them and yelled out angrily. "Carriedo, are you joining us or what?" Lovino realised with a shock that he was a blackshirt, one of the fascist government forces that had only just arrived in this part of Italy. The blackshirt looked strangely at Lovino before disappearing into the building, and it finally sunk in just what a stupid, stupid thing Lovino had done. Terror clouded his mind and he stood still, refusing to move even when Antonio took his hand and pulled.
"You'll be all right, Lovino. I won't let anything happen to you." Antonio squeezed his hand and for a moment that cheerful smile was back in place, that gleam in his eyes. Lovino was slightly comforted to see it, but he still pulled back against Antonio's hold.
"I'll… I'll just wait outside…"
Antonio looked almost sorry. "That's too suspicious. Just keep your promise and you'll be fine."
"Oh my God." Lovino crossed himself, an old nervous habit, and Antonio squeezed his hand again.
The room looked like an abandoned pub. A battered looking bar ran along the side wall and a few broken tables and knocked over chairs littered the floor. The blackshirt who had called out from the door leant over a table covered with papers, and another sat back in a chair, eyeing them warily. Lovino clung to Antonio's hand, beyond worrying what the blackshirts or even he himself thought, until Antonio released him and stared at him coolly. His entire demeanour changed in an instant. "Go sit at the bar, boy."
Lovino's eyes widened for the briefest moment, surprised and infuriated, before he remembered his promise. He headed to the barstool closest to the door, praying this would all be over quickly.
"Carriedo, haven't seen you in a while." The standing blackshirt nodded at Antonio, who smiled carefully back. Lovino got the feeling this was the superior officer.
"You know how things are escalating, my friend. I find my time increasingly pressed these days - so I need to make this quick. Surprising to see you down this way, however."
The officer rolled his eyes. "It's a damned insult, being posted here to the arsehole of Italy. Arresting pathetic would-be resistance members. It's a joke."
Antonio laughed, but it wasn't the carefree, joyful laugh that Lovino knew. It was cold, and cruel, and it scared him. "That's actually why I'm here, as I am sure you know. My superiors require that list of yours. We need to destroy this fledgling Resistenza before things go too far."
The sitting blackshirt scoffed and folded his arms before him. "And just why - I would like to know, and have yet to be informed - should we give this important information over to you? It is our job to crush this resistance, too."
Antonio spread his hands placatingly and grinned. It was as cold and joyless as his laugh. "My friend. We are all on the same side here. You work for the greater good, I work for the greater good. And as my friend here can attest," Antonio nodded towards the officer, "My superiors are always good in rewarding those who help us achieve our aims. Besides, I do not expect you to give me this for nothing." Antonio took a thick wad of paper from inside his shirt, walked over to the men, and tossed it onto the mass of papers that already littered the table. "I believe this information will garner you quite enough favour and respect in the eyes of your superiors, even if you are not the ones to dispose of this resistance." The two men immediately reached for the papers and started rifling through them.
Lovino found himself transfixed as he watched. This was not the Antonio he knew, the one with the ready laugh and sparkling eyes and overwhelming generosity, who always brought presents and silly stories and played along with Feliciano's stupid games. But then, Lovino hadn't known Antonio for long at all. Was it just that he was only now seeing the true character of the man? He was torn between an infuriating fear, and a strange, unfamiliar sort of fascinated curiosity. All his thoughts were abruptly broken off, however, when the sitting blackshirt fixed him with a dark, curious glare. "Who is this boy of yours, Carriedo?"
Lovino's pulse thrummed so fast he felt dizzy; his neck burned with a sickening heat. He tried desperately to push down his rising panic. Antonio had said he wouldn't let anything happen to him. Lovino had no choice but to trust him.
"He's no one," said Antonio quickly, smiling in that cruel, fake way.
"No one?" The blackshirt looked suspicious. "No one, who is just sitting here listening to us talk about top secret matters?"
Antonio looked from the blackshirt to Lovino. Lovino gazed back, eyes wide, this unreal fear refusing to subside. Antonio's eyes betrayed no hint of emotion. "Just something I picked up in the neighbouring village," he said smoothly, staring back at the blackshirt. "Now can we make this quick? I'm not paying this kid any more than I have to."
Both blackshirts laughed knowingly, their stares growing sneering and increasingly unpleasant. Lovino's shoulders stiffened, the burn in his neck spreading repulsively. He shrunk back into the bar behind him, regretting the stupid impulse that had led him here, wishing madly that he could somehow go back and get out of this. He tried to shout at Antonio without words. Get me out of here, you bastard… stop acting like this… oh God, make them stop looking at me like that…
"Well, now we know why you're in such a damned hurry!" said the blackshirt, standing and kicking his chair behind him, his savage eyes fixed on Lovino. Lovino bit his lip so hard he tasted blood.
"Exactly. So let's get this over with, shall we. That list?" Antonio reached for the papers in the officer's hand, but the man swiftly pulled them back and looked pointedly at Lovino. His smile sent shudders down Lovino's spine, that cold voice creeping under his skin.
"I don't think the information you've given us is a fair price for this list. Perhaps there is something else you can trade instead."
Antonio's shoulders stiffened. Lovino noticed his gaze drop subtly, almost imperceptibly, to take in the weapons by the men's sides. Lovino wondered madly if Antonio was armed. His momentary slip only lasted a second, and Antonio looked up and smiled once again. "I don't see why not. How about you meet me at the local inn and we can continue this exchange? I am on my way there as soon as we conclude our business."
"Why go as far as that?" asked the officer, taking a threatening step forward. "Here is as good a place as any. There are rooms upstairs." Lovino's entire body constricted. He shrunk back as far as he could, the bar pressing uncomfortably into his back.
Antonio's fists clenched then relaxed. The other blackshirt also took a step forward. Lovino did not understand what was going on, did not want to understand. Again, all he could do was trust in Antonio. Antonio broke the tension by clapping the superior officer on the back and laughing loudly. "Well, we are all friends, aren't we? Just try not to take too long." Lovino told himself Antonio was playing a part. This wasn't really him… Antonio did not mean this…
"Ah, it shouldn't, he's pretty enough. Besides, they all look the same from behind." The officer's eyes shot through Lovino from across the room.
"He's young too, that always helps," added the other blackshirt. Their menacing leers and laughter was making Lovino sick, making his skin crawl. Antonio laughed along with them, slipped an arm over the officer's shoulder; and then, quickly and easily, he had the list in his hand. He immediately pushed it into his pocket and backed away.
"I'm glad we could come to an agreement. And please, I even insist you go first." Lovino couldn't breathe. He couldn't handle this… he was going to panic, going to scream, going to run… "But first," continued Antonio, "It's freezing in here. Isn't it freezing in here? Hey, kid." Antonio was looking at him, speaking to him. Lovino stared at him pleadingly, but Antonio's face was blank. "Run outside and grab my jacket from the car."
Lovino did not think twice. He jumped up and ran. Once out in the cool, open air he stopped, relief flooding him to be out of that awful, stifling room, away from those vile stares and revolting laughs. But now he had no idea what to do. Run? Wait? Lovino stared helplessly around the deserted street; angry, frustrated tears starting to rise. He silently begged Antonio to hurry. His breathing came too fast, his hands shaking, his mind still too close to panicking… Lovino almost sobbed with relief when Antonio walked swiftly out the door, grabbed his hand, and practically dragged him down the street.
"Keep walking, do not stop." Antonio's face was fixed in a cold, rigid expression Lovino had never seen before, his steely eyes fixed on the distance, his mouth drawn almost into a snarl. They almost ran as they rushed away from the building.
"What just happened?" asked Lovino, cold fear still running through his veins. "What did you do?"
"Just keep walking."
"What's going on? What did they want?"
"It's nothing, Lovino." But Lovino had never seen the carefree, cheerful Spaniard look so furious.
"But what..." Suddenly a massive explosion blasted from behind, the deafening noise tearing down the empty street. The air turned briefly hot and heavy. Lovino's body jolted in shock. He looked over his shoulder to see the car in pieces and the building burning, its front wall torn away. Lovino's legs went weak; he stumbled, but Antonio immediately drew him up and continued to pull him down the street. "Oh my God," gasped Lovino breathlessly. "Oh my God…"
An empty car waited just around the corner. Antonio opened the passenger door, helping Lovino into the vehicle before climbing into the driver's seat and speeding off. Lovino clutched the armrest, his mind frozen in shock, his whole body shaking. Nothing was real, nothing could be real, this was all too fast, too surreal, too much…
"You're okay, Lovino. Just breathe. You're safe, and you're with me, and everything's fine now."
Lovino tried to do as Antonio said, tried to breathe, but his chest was too tight and his throat too dry. "Those men... they were still in there…"
"Yes."
"You said... you said you could never kill anyone…"
"I said I could never kill an innocent person. Those men were not innocent, Lovino. It is hard, I know, and difficult to understand. But through their deaths we saved a lot of people today." Antonio's knuckles were white as he gripped the steering wheel, his eyes still too cold and too hard. Lovino did not like it at all. He wanted Antonio to smile, to laugh, to say something silly and idiotic in his cheerful Spanish accent. This side of Antonio terrified him. But at the same time, Lovino found his curiosity somewhat abated. This was what the Resistenza, what Antonio, actually did… this was what Lovino had wanted to know. Lovino forced himself to breathe evenly, to calm down.
"They… they thought you were working for them," said Lovino softly.
"A lot of people think I am working for them."
"What is on that paper you asked for?"
"It is a list of local villagers under suspicion from the government."
Lovino swallowed a wave of nausea, then forced himself to ask the question he wasn't sure he wanted the answer to. "What did they... those men… they said they wanted something in exchange..."
Antonio smashed his foot on the accelerator. Lovino gripped the side of the seat as the car shot forward. "That was nothing, Lovino. Don't think anymore about that."
Lovino forced himself to stay quiet the rest of the short drive. Antonio parked the car in the same spot the truck had left from earlier. Lovino followed him down the narrow street and up the stairs opposite the cantina to his rented apartment. "I just have to put these papers away," said Antonio quickly. "Then I'll take you home, okay? You're all right, Lovino, it's okay now."
Everything was going so fast, and Lovino was so confused, feeling like a whirlwind was rushing through his head. Antonio was still not himself. The room spun as Antonio led Lovino swiftly through the front door of his shabby rented rooms, talking nonstop the whole way, repeating himself; looking strangely like he was fighting with himself. "I just need to put these papers in the safe… It will only take me a moment, then I'll walk you home straight away… It's okay now, Lovino… Just let me put these away, and we'll leave immediately…" Antonio's accent grew heavier as he spoke, and Lovino fought to understand what he was saying, why he was speaking so frantically, why everything was whirling and fuzzy and why…
The world finally stopped spinning when Antonio dropped the papers in a heap, turned, and pulled Lovino forcefully into his arms. Lovino froze, his arms at his side, his mind a hot muddled mess of confusion and shock. "Don't you ever… EVER… do anything like that again, do you understand me?" Antonio almost yelled the words.
Lovino could not move. His mind was numb. He did not know if Antonio was angry or upset or had lost his mind completely. "I…"
"My God, Lovino, that was… just don't…" Lovino felt Antonio's arms pressed firmly around his back, holding him, encircling him; felt his rising chest against his cheek and his warm breath against his hair. Antonio's voice was gentler when he spoke again. "Please don't ever do that again."
Lovino had no idea what to do. So he very slowly, hesitantly, raised his hands and rested them against Antonio's arms. Because that awful experience was over, and despite everything, Lovino felt safe like this. "All right," he replied softly. But Antonio did not move. The room was so quiet, so still, silent but for the sound of their rapid breathing in the heavy air. The entire horrific afternoon melted away until there was nothing but this. A knot twisted in Lovino's stomach; a shiver fluttered in his throat. He did not know if he could pull away from Antonio's strong arms, and he did not know if he wanted to. So he just clutched them tighter, turned his head and felt Antonio's lips and breath so close above him. His pulse raced so fast he couldn't breathe through it, his skin burned like it was the middle of summer, and he felt Antonio's heart beating against his ear almost as fast as his own.
Lovino started to feel dizzy, unsure, just as Antonio's arms tightened around him. And then their bodies were pressed so close together, melded from their chests to their hips. Antonio said his name and it sounded like worship, so Lovino rocked closer, until he said it again and it sounded like penitence. The tight, hot spiral in Lovino's chest shot through his spine and coiled in his base of his gut, spreading lower, until he was almost panting from the unfamiliar but rapturous sensations flooding his body. And Antonio's lips were so close and his breath so warm; his arms so firm and his smell so overpowering… Lovino couldn't move, couldn't think, could only press against him, feeling that hot coil tighten, spiralling, moving towards something… Lovino gasped loudly, whispered softly… "Oh..."
"Damn it, no, BASTA!" Lovino staggered backwards as Antonio suddenly pushed him away forcefully. It took all his strength and balance to keep from tumbling to the floor. When he came back to himself, the room was cold, dark, silent. Antonio stood at the other end of the room, his hands on his head, his back to Lovino. A confused shame spread slowly from Lovino's still fuzzy brain, until he was entirely engulfed by a burning, nauseating humiliation. Antonio had pushed him away. Lovino had got carried away, had misinterpreted. Antonio must be disgusted, appalled. Lovino could hear his breathing from across the room. "You need to go, Lovino." Antonio's voice was shaking. "Immediately. You need to leave right now."
Lovino covered his mouth and staggered backwards, mortified. "I… I'm sorr…" Lovino choked on the word, blinking his rising tears away in silent anger. His embarrassment shifted abruptly to boiling rage. He narrowed his eyes and clenched his fists. "You bastard, how dare you!" How dare Antonio push him away like that? How dare he make Lovino feel like this? How dare he change completely into this person Lovino barely recognised? Lovino's fury intensified when Antonio did not turn. He yelled as loud as he dared, loud enough to try and drown the ugly, sickening humiliation that burned his skin, that made him want to run and hide forever. "I hate you! Get the hell out of my village, get the hell out of my life! I never, ever want to see you again! Do you understand? I hate you, you complete bastard!"
Lovino ran out of the room. He refused to acknowledge the tears in his eyes, the anguish in his chest. He focused only on his anger. He raced down the road, out of the village, and tried to convince himself that wasn't upset; he wasn't disappointed; he wasn't completely and utterly crushed. No, he was just mad, furious, wild with hatred. Lovino hated Antonio Carriedo. He had to. Because it was too painful to think what it meant if he didn't.
.
Lovino did not see Antonio for a week. He deliberately stayed away from the cantina, and Antonio did not come to the farmhouse. Lovino told himself he was glad. But for days all he saw when he closed his eyes was those sickening looks on the blackshirt's faces, that burning building, that destroyed car. All he heard in the silence was that massive fireball of an explosion; Antonio's breathing. All he felt, in dark early hours when he could not sleep and could not stop his mind from running, was Antonio's arms around him; his breath on his neck; that blissful feeling Lovino could not explain… and then Antonio's hands forcefully pushing him away. Grandpa Roma seemed to sense that something was wrong, even if he did not ask. But thankfully, Feliciano was as oblivious as ever.
"Lovino, that's not fair, it's my turn!" Feliciano raced beside Lovino, trying to kick the soccer ball from under his feet. Lovino skillfully kept it away, almost laughing as he led the way out of the back garden and around the side of the house.
"You have to get the ball yourself, how will you ever learn?" Lovino shouted back before kicking the ball ahead and chasing after it. The afternoon sun shone brightly on the well-trimmed grass and the autumn breeze was surprisingly cool as it gusted past, shaking the trees in the surrounding fields. Lovino was actually grateful to Feliciano for this stupid distraction. For the first time in a week, he was barely even thinking of Antonio at all.
"But Lovino, you're faster than me, it's not fair!"
"Nothing's fair, Feliciano. Now come on, I know you can run faster than that. Come steal this ball from me!" Keeping the ball before him, Lovino raced around the corner of the house, off the grass, onto the narrow lane; and almost ran straight into Antonio. Lovino choked back a shout of surprise. His heart leapt uncomfortably to his throat and he jerked to a sudden stop, the ball flying forgotten down the lane. Sweat rose to his brow and his shoulders stiffened as he took a wary step backward.
"Good morning, Lovino!" Antonio's voice was as cheerful as ever, his simple, gleeful smile back in place. He looked like himself again, not that unfamiliar Antonio who had spoken so sinisterly to the blackshirts, who had acted so strangely as he led Lovino into his rented room. Lovino felt the familiar nervous twisting of his stomach, but this time, he felt anger as well. He just shook his head, stony faced, as Feliciano came racing out of the garden and ran up to Antonio, laughing breathlessly.
"Antonio! Did you bring me a present? What did you bring me?"
"Of course, Feli, don't I always? For you I have…" Antonio put down the large case he was carrying and pulled a small, circular drum from the bag over his shoulder. Feliciano blinked at it quizzically. "It's a tambourine!" Antonio explained with a smile. "You play it. Like this." Antonio shook the drum, causing the small metal disks to jingle cheerfully. Feliciano's face lit up and he grabbed the tambourine from Antonio's hand, immediately shaking it wildly and bursting into laughter.
"Wow! This is fantastic!"
Lovino closed his eyes briefly. Just what Feliciano needed: another way to make noise. Why did Antonio always have to be so damn oblivious? "Say thank you, Feliciano," said Lovino wearily.
"Thank you, Antonio! I'm going to show Grandpa!" Feliciano raced into the house, shaking the tambourine the whole way, leaving Lovino standing alone with Antonio. Uncertain and uneasy, Lovino took a few steps backwards, then turned to follow Feliciano.
"Lovino."
Lovino paused, his heart pounding traitorously. "What."
"I'm heading away for a while." Antonio said the words too easily. Lovino refused to think or feel anything. He refused, damn it.
"Oh. Good. Grandpa is inside, I'm sure he will want to know."
Once again, Lovino stood listening to a conversation he was not supposed to hear. He had tried to walk away, had told himself he wanted to walk away, but in the end he was helpless to stop himself pressing a wine glass to the kitchen door and trying to make out the words that drifted through. So far all he had managed to understand was that Antonio was going away. But then, that was to be expected… Antonio had been coming and going frequently for months. Why was this time any different?
"I don't understand," said Roma. "Right when things are escalating..."
"You're doing fine. The members you have here are loyal, skilled, and dedicated, and you're going to need them. I am afraid your quiet little corner of Italy has become far too strategic a position for any side to ignore."
"Which is why we need an informant more than ever. I just don't see why you are leaving now, when we really need you."
"I can better help the cause from a distance. The blackshirt's control is growing too great, and rumours of an occupation are already starting. Before things go too far, I need to establish an escape route to Spain."
Roma paused for a moment. "Yes, of course, that's right. We will see you again, though."
"Yes. But not for a while. It should take a year, at the very least. More likely two or three."
The wine glass fell to the floor and shattered. Lovino did not hear anymore. He felt like he had been punched in the stomach, his blood running cold under burning skin. He raced out the back kitchen door, through the sunny garden, and onto the road. He headed down the road that led to the mountains, unheeding of the cold wind, those words echoing in his head… a year, at the very least. More likely two or three… Lovino did not stop until he reached a broken fence just off the side of the road. He fell down against it, breathing heavily, his hands shaking and his chest feeling like it would collapse. Two or three years. It was a lifetime. Forever. It should not hurt so bad… he was angry at Antonio, Lovino told himself. Furious. He hated him. But it was useless. No matter how many times Lovino said it, he didn't. He didn't hate Antonio at all. And that just made him angrier. That he could feel this way about someone who just kept hurting him.
Lovino sat against the fence, watching the blue sky darken, the brown leaves fall from nearby trees and dust the green grass below. So this was it. He would not see Antonio again, not for years. This was the end of the whole stupid, pointless chapter. He supposed, in a way, he was almost relieved. Despite how much it hurt. Lovino started to feel sleepy as he watched one fallen leaf dance in the wind. It twisted and turned, blown on a single gust of air, flying up and falling down again against the backdrop of the distant mountains. Lovino could feel his head begin to drop, his eyes start to close…
"Lovino."
Lovino jumped and gasped, then looked up sharply. Antonio stood looking down, placing his bag and case on the ground. Lovino shook the sleep from his head and pushed himself up, ignoring the way his heart did that stupid fluttering thing. "Go away!"
"Please." Something about the way Antonio said it made Lovino pause. He stared warily for a moment, drew his knees up and wrapped his arms around them.
"I thought you were leaving."
"I am. I am taking the road through the mountains. My car is down this road. I did not think I would be lucky enough to find you on the way!"
"Shut up." It was a stupid, childish response, but Lovino could not think of anything else to say. Antonio ignored it.
"Well, I am glad I did." Antonio sat slowly against the fence, leaving a careful distance between them. "I haven't given you your present yet."
Lovino eyed him warily. "Why would you have a present for me? You hate me. That's why you're leaving."
Antonio looked slightly astonished, then he laughed and shook his head. "Oh, that is so very far from the truth."
Lovino drew his eyebrows together. "So, you're not leaving because of me?"
"No, I am. But not because I hate you."
"That makes no sense, bastard."
"Maybe you'll understand one day."
Lovino fell silent. He very much doubted that. Antonio reached for the case beside him, opened it, and to Lovino's complete surprise, drew out a guitar. "This is for you."
Lovino just stared, struck still with astonishment. He had wanted a guitar for years, but had given up all hope of acquiring one now that the war had started. He could not believe, after everything, that Antonio was handing one to him so easily. "Oh." Lovino touched the guitar, then looked up into Antonio's smiling face and dropped his hand. He gave Antonio a quizzical glance, not sure what to ask, how to ask. "Last week," Antonio explained, "in the village, Feliciano said that you threw a coin in the fountain and wished for a guitar."
Lovino shrugged, slightly embarrassed. "I only said that to make Feliciano stop pestering me."
"Oh, so you don't want a guitar?" Antonio started to place it back in the case. Lovino unthinkingly reached out to stop him.
"No, I do, I…" Antonio grinned triumphantly and Lovino felt his cheek burn red. Why did Antonio always do these stupid things? Lovino looked at the ground and mumbled, "I don't know how to play."
"You'll learn. It's easy. Listen." Antonio held the guitar in position and strummed a few chords until a slow, lyrical melody started to flow from the strings. He smiled at Lovino. "This is a new song I heard recently. It made me think of you." Lovino did not have time to fully register that before Antonio started singing. Lovino could not understand the Spanish words, but Antonio's voice was wonderful; light and lilting and flowing so easily over the notes. Despite himself Lovino found himself enthralled by it, mesmerised, wrapped in the rich harmonies that drifted from the guitar and Antonio's lips. Lovino did not think he breathed the entire song, watching Antonio's fingers stroke across the strings and his lips form those beautiful words, until the last line which Lovino almost thought he understood… "Bésame mucho, love me forever and make all my dreams come true." For a brief moment Lovino wondered if Antonio had sung the line in Italian; but no, he must have misheard. Lovino did not say anything, but he carefully took the guitar when Antonio handed it over. "When I see you again, you can play something for me!"
Lovino ran his hand over the polished wood, his heart beating faster, his mind running wild with confused and conflicting emotions. "I'll probably just put it in my cupboard and never look at it again."
Antonio shrugged cheerfully. "Do whatever you wish with it, it's yours!"
But Antonio was supposed to be mad at Lovino. He wasn't supposed to turn up all cheerful and happy and give him a guitar and sing to him and confuse him even more and… "What did I do wrong?" Lovino winced as soon as the words were out. He shouldn't have said that. Damn it, he should not have said that.
Antonio shook his head, his expression suddenly serious. "You did nothing wrong..."
Lovino should not have said it, and yet, he could not stop... "I know I shouldn't have hid in the car that day, I really didn't want to mess anything up, I…"
"No, Lovino, listen. I have to apologise to you. I'm so sorry." Antonio started to reach out his hand, then quickly snatched it back and laughed shakily to himself. "Twenty-five years old and I still don't how to react properly, do I. This whole time, I've been so out of line. I never should have made you run home alone the other day, after that explosion, after what I…" Antonio sighed and ran a hand over his eyes. Lovino could not follow what Antonio was trying to say. "Lovino, you didn't do anything wrong. I did. That's why I'm leaving."
"But you'll come back." Lovino tried to make it sound like he didn't care. He tried to convince himself he didn't care.
"After I have established an escape route to Spain, and made some more contacts, yes, I will come back. It could be a few years. But this war will not be over anytime soon."
"No." Lovino looked up at the darkening sky, feeling Antonio's eyes on him. They sat like that, silent but for the sound of the wind, until Antonio finally spoke again.
"I have to leave. My car will be waiting."
"All right." Lovino kept his eyes on the sky, his hands clutching the guitar.
"I'll see you soon, Lovino. Stay safe. Don't do anything stupid. Promise me."
Lovino finally looked over at Antonio, who smiled cheerfully again. Lovino furrowed his brow and suppressed that flutter in his stomach. "Why do you keep asking these stupid promises?"
Antonio laughed as he stood and picked up his bag. He smiled down at Lovino, his brown hair waving in the wind, his bright eyes greener than the grass. "Adios, mi corazón." Then he turned and walked away.
Lovino watched Antonio walk back onto the road, swinging his bag, whistling tunelessly as he went. Lovino watched him walk away, away to Spain, away to danger, away to God knows where. Away for years. Lovino watched him until he disappeared around a fork in the road. And he wondered why it hurt so damn much.
To be continued…
* Basta - Stop
*(YouTube)/watch?v=ORGQ9df3ZbY