A/N: Chapter two :D It's shorter than the previous one but I hope you enjoy it!
True to his word, Antonio did heal quickly. He was already regaining consciousness by the time I called Francis back from wherever the hell he was about to go to. By the time the doctors had a look at him, the thin fog that had clouded his mind ever since he'd thrown Kirkland unconscious, was already starting to ebb. He was perfectly fine by the next day, although Francis, Gilbert and I made him lie down anyway. (I, for one, couldn't handle my eyes being likened to spaceships ever again.)
The days passed in awkward jerks. But it was a pleasant, flirty sort of awkward, where my hands brushed against Antonio's as we walked down the hallway, and he smirked at me whenever he wanted to see me blush. Our kisses would always be swift and heated, and also sort of random. He never exactly asked me out on a date, never set the mood, and in his defence, I wasn't very keen on going out and seeing a freaking movie or whatever it is that dates are supposed to be. I was having more fun this way. There was always the element of surprise when he swooped in and kissed me as he was leaving a room, or if he held my hand when we were talking. I liked that a lot.
It seemed very rosy. Even Gilbert and Elizabeta seemed happy with each other. Gilbert had Eliza had even apologised for thinking badly of him; she'd not known him, hadn't even taken the time out to know him.
Antonio and I also spent a lot of time helping out Matthew. He, Kiku, Yao and Kabir had become some sort of super-team, putting in tireless hours of practice for their flash mob, despite the mounting workload in class. Antonio wanted to dance with them too (no surprise there), but somehow I got roped in. Maybe because I was always hanging around Antonio or Matthew, and that everyone just accepted the fact that I was Antonio's de facto boyfriend and was to be included in everything. I don't know. The sore muscles and rank stench of my sweat was only muted when Matthew smiled and hugged me and thanked me for helping save Kuma the bear.
(You can't really be mad at Matthew. I mean, it's literally impossible.)
In between all of this, Ivan was hanging around Antonio too. They studied in the library together almost every night, until one afternoon while Matt, Antonio and I were sitting outside in the lawns, eating lunch, Ivan ran up to Antonio with tears in his eyes and pulled him into a hug. "I got the highest grades in the class!" he said happily. Then he swiftly wiped his eyes. "How embarrassing to cry."
"No, no, don't be embarrassed!" Antonio said with a grin.
Ivan hugged him again, this time so tightly that I heard Antonio give out a small 'oof!' "Thank you so, so much, Toni. I was going to lose my scholarship if it wasn't for you!"
I just stared. "Ivan?"
He let go of Antonio to look at me. "Yes, Lovino?"
"You remember that shooting star a couple of weeks ago?"
(Antonio, I noticed, stiffened.)
"Oh, yes. Funny, I wished on that shooting star for my grades to get better. Guess those wishes work, huh?" Ivan laughed at himself. "It's silly now that I think about it, because all I needed was a good tutor. Like Toni."
Antonio 'hmm'ed.
I don't think anyone else but me caught his sleight of hand. From the long sleeve of his red coat, he seemed to pull out a carnation and deposit it into Ivan's pocket, all without anyone even noticing.
But then, I was watching. Like Antonio himself had admitted not long ago, I was always watching.
Dr. Kirkland returned at the end of the fortnight, looking healthier than anyone had ever seen him. "Seems like he's done nothing but sleep for the last two weeks," I muttered as he marched up and down the classroom, talking animatedly.
"Maybe Antonio knocking him out was a good thing," Matthew replied. "He got some time off."
Antonio just chuckled to himself as he took notes. "Clumsiness pays off in strange ways, doesn't it?"
"Clumsiness," I repeated, softly enough for only my ears. Pressing the nib of my pen into my notebook, I added, "Clumsiness, yeah, sure."
The truth was, those red carnations were appearing all over the place. Almost every single person Antonio interacted with ended up saying something to him that would prompt him to do them this bigass favour and leave those flowers where they'd be found. Antonio never seemed to run out of energy, either. He'd stopped going to the Astrophysics classes now. Instead, he went to Art, Filmmaking, Journalism, Organic Chemistry and Law, befriending everyone he met and helping them out in some way.
People found him easy to talk to, something that didn't surprise me as much as it should have. It explained why I volunteered information to him so easily: my real name, my inferiority complex with Feli, my chorea as a child. I could never believe what I'd said once it slipped out of my mouth, but now that I realised other people did it too, it made me feel like I was supposed to. Like I was being compelled to by some force I couldn't understand. I should have been mad, but again, I found that I simply couldn't be. It was as though some part of me sympathised with Antonio - somehow, instinctively, I knew he couldn't help it the way people opened up to him. I knew it was a burden he had to bear, because something about him just made people loosen up, even if they didn't want to. It was violating their privacy without their consent, and I knew, deep down, I understood, that Antonio felt guilty about it.
His allure even worked on the most secretive of us all. Francis.
We celebrated Francis's birthday by going out and getting drunk. Francis left with some girl and didn't come back to the dorm until the next morning. It was a Sunday. Gilbert was in the library, 'studying' with Elizabeta. I'd decided to walk off my hangover by strolling around the lawns, enjoying my solitude.
Eventually, as I made my way back to the dorm, I heard soft crying coming from behind the door. I opened it very, very slightly, and there was Francis sitting on the floor, weeping. Antonio was sitting next to him, rubbing circles on his back.
I should have backed off and left them to it, but I couldn't. I was curious, so sue me.
"And - and - I just feel so filthy because it feels so wrong. Like I'm betraying her. And that's ridiculous, I know it's ridiculous. Jeanne is dead." He was crying harder. "She - over the summer, there was a fire. I - her mother called me up - I still remember, I was getting ready for our date, and I got that phone call, and - I couldn't - I mean - she was twenty! Who dies as twenty, Antonio?"
Something pulled at me and my hand clenched around the door knob. Oh, Francis. The way he was crying, I could feel tears prickle in my eyes.
Francis blew into a tissue. "And I'm supposed to just get over it, you know? Because it's not like we were married or something. We'd only been seeing each other for a month. But that's such rubbish! How can I possibly - oh God," he moaned as he sank into his hands. "I want to stop hurting so much, Antonio. Everything reminds me of her. And I try to get over her by doing these stupid things, sleeping with these strangers, and it just hurts even more. Like I'm cheating on her. It makes no sense, does it?"
"It makes perfect sense." Antonio's soft voice was so ridden with sorrow. "There's no logical way to grieve, Francis. It's all emotion, and emotion makes no sense at all."
Francis let out a hollow laugh. "That's something I would say."
Antonio's smile was soft. "Well, now I'm saying it."
"I want her back," Francis whispered as his frame shook with his sobs. "I want her back so badly, Antonio."
"I know, I know, Francis. But I can't bring her back." He sounded so, so upset as he said that. "Nobody can."
"It hurts so much," he whispered. "It hurts all the time. I wish there was some way to make the pain go away."
Antonio sighed softly and pulled Francis into a hug. "Maybe," Antonio offered, his voice lulling, "You could rely on your friends a bit more. Share the load. Hmm?"
"Well, I just told you," I heard Francis mumble as he pressed his head deeper into Antonio's shoulder.
"Yeah," Antonio said gently, stroking Francis's hair. "You did."
I'd seen enough. Even I couldn't keep watching this anymore. It was just unfair on Francis. I simply stepped away from the door and slipped back outside to the lawns to kill another hour.
On Sunday morning, Antonio was panicking. In two hours, he, Matthew and the crew were going to the zoo to film their flash mob. Right now he was going in twenty different directions, between practicing his steps, double-checking Yao's camera quality, calling the zoo once more to remind them of the event, everything. I hadn't bothered asking how the zoo let Antonio just film a dance in protest of its treatment of their polar bear. I didn't bother. It was easy to just chalk it up to Antonio's alluring vibes.
I just sat on the floor of the stage, eating a tomato as breakfast and wondering what I was even doing here. Antonio made me do stupid things like dance in large coordinated groups. I wasn't even good at it! (Kabir had politely asked me to stand in the back.)
Once more, I knew it was the aura Antonio gave off. He drew people to him, like he was a king and we his doting subjects. My eyes travelled with him, watching as he darted all over the auditorium, barking into his cell phone or making pained whiny noises to assuage his nervousness.
Then Matthew came in, holding a styrofoam cup of coffee, and Antonio, without seeing where he was going, walked right into him.
Antonio let out a strangled yell as the coffee splattered down his coat.
"Oh! I'm so sorry!"
"No, no," Antonio said shakily, looking down at the foam and syrup and milk on his coat, "I should have watched where I was going. Sorry about your coffee."
They exchanged formalities (even some money - Antonio pressed some into Matthew's palm to get another cup all on him). Antonio looked even more stressed and I saw him stalk off to the bathrooms. I followed.
"You can wash your coat off, right?"
He turned sharply, startled, before his expression became more relaxed and he smiled. "Hey, Lovi."
I approached him, placing a hand on his cheek. "Calm the fuck down, Antonio. It's going to be fine."
He mumbled something and looked away. "No. My coat. It's ruined."
"It's just a coat. Wash it off and wear something else -"
"This is my lucky coat! I need it to help people!"
Antonio opened up a direction of conversation that teetered on the dangerous. If we were going to start acknowledging his strange abilities, well...that line of questioning could go anywhere. Even beyond the edge of sanity.
I swallowed. "A lucky coat?" Better to keep things safe, for now. I wasn't ready for an explanation that wouldn't make sense. "Here, give it to me."
Antonio looked at me with a little too much suspicion before he shrugged it off and handed it over.
The coat was...heavier than expected. "So what is this?" I asked in a joking tone, holding it under a running faucet. "The source of your magic powers or something?"
Antonio was silent for a whole minute. "Sorta."
I froze.
"Not a source, exactly," he continued. "More like...a uniform? My coat validates my existence."
"You're crazy," I muttered, although my heart was roaring in my ears. "And it's not good to be that dependent on a piece of clothing."
Antonio laughed and said nothing more.
"Here." I handed the coat back. "It's a little damp, but it's not full of frappuccino anymore."
"Thank you, Lovi!" Antonio cooed, kissing my cheek. "This is fine." As he threw it on his shoulders, he let out a sigh. "Ah, much better."
Offering his hand to me, he said, "Come on! Let's go save Kumajiro!"
I let his warm fingers take mine and felt my heart tug in a way that hearts really shouldn't. Antonio was confusing and magical and mysterious, but that just made me like him all the more.
You might think that's pathetic. I try to.
(Try.)
It went off perfectly. I mean, sure, I almost tripped on my own feet, and yeah, it turned out Yao hadn't pressed the fucking 'record' button until we were a minute and a half into our dance, but other than that, it was pretty okay. I was rather impassive about the whole thing until I actually saw Kumajiro. He was thin and dirty and sad.
People were staring at us and taking videos. I was embarrassed, but something about what we were doing was numbing me.
It was Antonio. I know it was. You've never seen him at work, you've never been involved in his process. But it was like I was some great part of a powerful positive forcefield. I couldn't find the negativity in me to be reluctant or awkward. We were doing this crazy crap to make a viral video that would save Kuma. A poor innocent polar bear.
The objective filled me up until it was all I could think about. It was wholesome and satisfying. And when we finished, cheered, clapped and hugged each other, I felt like I'd contributed something to the planet.
Kiku and Yao edited the video and added some cool effects. They interspersed it with text, and it ended with Matthew saying, "SAVE KUMA!" Matthew uploaded it online, all of us shared it, our friends shared it, their friends shared it, and in twenty-four hours, our video was everywhere. People were tweeting about it (hashtagSaveKuma!), uploading statuses, writing blog posts, drawing up petitions. Matthew started getting phone calls from newspapers, for fuck's sake.
The best news came that morning, when Matthew switched on the TV and found out that the city council was getting involved.
He ran to Antonio, nearly crying.
"I never, ever thought this would be possible!" he screamed - actually screamed - as he threw himself onto Antonio. "It's all because of you! Kuma might be saved because of you!"
"I didn't do anything," Antonio insisted. "You took all the initiative. I just gave you an idea. Actually, the social media campaign was Lovi's idea. I just...helped. Initially. But this is all on you!"
There was no sneaky shit this time. Antonio presented Matthew with a red carnation, flourishing it like he'd spent all night in the mirror, practicing. (I could have been jealous, but I wasn't. I was still feeling too elated from before). "Congrats, Mattie!"
I started to laugh as Matthew kept repeating, "Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!"
"Well, fuck him! No, I don't give a shit, he had it co - no! Feli, you're going to work and pay for your tuition yourself! It's not like he can pay anyway, the bastard's accounts - excuse me for not having any fucking sympathy for that tax-evading homophobe!"
Thank fuck there was nobody in the dorm right now. I had all the room to pace violently up and down the floor, snarling into my phone while imagining creative ways to break my grandfather's nose.
They froze his fucking assets. Not like anyone ought to be surprised.
"Grandpa is all lawyered-up now! AGAIN!" Feli wailed. "And he's not allowed to leave town, so he's just sitting in his study and brooding. He yells if you even ask him he he wants coffee."
"Don't give him any fucking coffee. He doesn't deserve coffee."
"Romano, I'm scared."
"Please, Feli," I rolled my eyes so emphatically I almost gave myself a headache. "This happens every other time."
"But this time they've found some actual evidence of, like, messing with the account books and stuff. And some of the people he threatened spoke to the police!"
"Whatever. We don't need him anyway."
I listened to Feli whine and talked him down from crying, and when Feli said bye and cut the line, I let out a loud, howling yell and threw my phone against the wall.
Stupid, stupid, stupid Grandpa! I hated him so much right now. Why was he always doing these things to us?
Ugh.
Whatever.
I had better things to do.
A twelve-thousand word essay was one of them.
With each word I wrote, I felt myself getting more and more distant from my grandfather. Each sentence was like a railway line away from home and all its drama. I even turned my phone off. Writing about Roman Architecture in the time of Emperor Nero was my escape.
I sat undisturbed for a while, refusing to let the tears spill. Until, of course, Antonio walked in from some study group I had no idea he was even part of. "Lovi?" he asked when he saw my face, coming right up to me and snatching my laptop away. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing's wrong," I snapped, averting my gaze and wiping my eyes.
"Lovi, come on."
My tongue took control, words slipping out of me without me allowing them to. "My family. My grandfather. I'm just so sick of it, Antonio!" Before I knew it, I'd pressed my head into his chest, not crying exactly, but getting there. Antonio ran a hand through my hair as I talked and talked without even wanting to. "I've never told you what the family business is, have I?"
"No."
"Construction. Sort of. Grandpa owns a lot of property. That's all on paper, though. He's a criminal. He's got a network of goons, he's corrupt. He bribes and threatens people. He's untouchable because he's got so many contacts in high places! And now he's being investigated - again - and his assets have been frozen."
"Oh," Antonio said quietly, his voice a little breathy.
"I hate him."
"Really?"
"Yeah. I do. I hate him." I pulled away from Antonio, sniffling and wiping my eyes. Antonio was looking at me, his brow furrowed in concern.
"You know…" Antonio started, looking to his feet and facing away from me, "I...could help you if you wanted."
"I - I know," I stammered back, heart roaring. "I don't need your help. I just need to finish my essay."
His eyes flashed towards mine, and in that one second, I knew it had become a mutual agreement. I knew his big secret, he knew I knew. We were simply not going to talk about it.
Hands trembling, I took my laptop, placing it on my lap and staring at the blinking cursor. Eventually, Antonio climbed up to his bunk and left me alone.
The ending came dramatically, although really, the signs were all there.
A few days after the viral video thing, Antonio dropped out of European History, a move that was met with shock by everyone who was not me. He had only been in there to help Matthew. I knew that by now. He had a million other classes, anyway, from Mechanical Engineering to Greek Philosophy.
Gilbert, meanwhile, starting whining about Roderich Edelstein. "I've always kind of felt like Liz was into him," he said morosely to Francis and I.
"But you're her boyfriend," Francis advised. "It's best not to be too jealous or possessive. You'll drive her away."
"I'm not being possessive," he muttered. "It's just - ugh, fucking Roderich. And he keeps hitting on her, too, in his own 'classy' way. He's just really pretentious."
For Roderich, 'hitting on' Elizabeta included inviting her to concerts - in a 'just friends' kind of way, of course - and subtly insulting Gilbert's taste in music. Gilbert reacted by buying Liz nice things and booking her whole schedule with dinners, movies, gigs and assorted dates. It was ridiculous.
(Or maybe I just didn't empathise? I didn't have to compete for Antonio's attention, despite his ever-mounting workload and those red carnations that he gave to everyone but me. He always found time for me, and somehow never seemed tired.)
So.
You know how guys do stupid shit when they're trying to get a girl to like them?
That's what happened.
It started, you see, with a birthday invitation.
Roderich sent Liz this elaborate invitation card (who sends invitation cards these days?) to his twenty-first birthday party. It was to be a 'an evening of well-mannered frivolity' (Roderich Edelstein makes Harry Potter references?). Along with the card was a bouquet of roses, and the invite did not extend to Gilbert.
"Of course I won't accept," Elizabeta had assured him, before promptly accepting.
Gilbert was furious. They had this huge fight, lots of drama and crying on both ends, blah, blah, blah, accusations of "YOU'RE ATTRACTED TO HIM!" and "YOU'RE BEHAVING LIKE A CHILD, GILBERT!" were flying around, things were thrown across the room, and I almost got punched in the face by Elizabeta (accidentally, she claimed).
Anyway, the next morning, Antonio and I were chilling in the lawns, listening to music and making out in the least conspicuous way possible, when Gilbert stormed up to us and started ranting.
"SHE BROKE UP WITH ME. FUCK. AND SHE'S GOING TO THAT PRETENTIOUS PRICK'S GALA OR WHATEVER, FUCKING HELL -"
"Gilbert -" Antonio tried to say.
"NO, SHUT UP, AND SHE TELLS ME THAT I'M BEHAVING LIKE A POSSESSIVE ASSHOLE -"
"You kind of are," I interrupted.
"FUCK YOU, VARGAS."
(That's not something people say every day, by the way. My grandfather would have their bones broken.)
"SHE'S LIKED HIM RIGHT FROM THE START -"
"That's not true!" Antonio protested. "Elizabeta is too headstrong to date anyone she doesn't like."
Gilbert's eyes widened. "That's right," he said, dropping his voice, "What if she was dating me to get Roderich jealous?"
"She wouldn't date you for so many months if she was doing it just to make him jealous." But Antonio's words were ignored as Gilbert's ranting resumed.
"ARRGH! I HATE HIM! I WISH HE HAS THE WORST BIRTHDAY EVER! LIKE A FLOCK OF PIGEONS OR SOMETHING SHITS ALL OVER THE PARTY! ASSHOLE DOESN'T EVEN LIKE BIRDS!"
"Gilbert."
Antonio had gone very pale.
"Gilbert," he said again, weaker this time, "Take that back. What you just said."
"NO! I WANT HIM TO BE MISERABLE BY THE END OF IT!"
Antonio let out a soft groan as he clutched his stomach and curled in on himself.
"Hey, are you all right?" I asked. But before I could reach out to touch him, Antonio shot up, staggered a little, and turned even paler.
"I think I'm going to be sick," he choked out before running off to the nearest trashcan.
Antonio was sick all day. Every time Francis got him to so much as drink a sip of water, he'd throw up. It was weird because he didn't even have a fever or anything. Gilbert was somewhat sympathetic but he had a stony silence on him for the rest of the evening. Antonio kept shooting him glances, looks full of concern and apprehension.
He was fine the next day. Physically, anyway. In the three days leading up to Roderich's birthday, Antonio was quiet and stressed and unhappy, not smiling even once.
"What the hell is going on?" I asked him once. "Is this about what happened with Gilbert?"
But trust me, if Antonio chose not to be honest with you, you'd never fucking guess. I thought I was good at reading him, but the sudden laugh and his effortless smile made me raise my eyebrows. "What are you talking about?" he asked before wearing his earphones and essentially ending the conversation.
Roderich's birthday party was on Saturday night, and on Friday morning, I got a phone call from Feli.
"Can you come over for the weekend?" he asked me.
"Uh...no. I've got study group on Sunday."
"Okay. Can you come over tonight?"
"Feli, what's wrong?"
"Nothing. I got mad at Grandpa and now he's not talking to me and it's tense here."
"And somehow me coming home would ease that tension? Are you sure?" I drawled. "What did you even fight about this time? I thought he let you go to art school."
"Yes! It's not about that! I told him I wanted to work and pay on my own."
"Ah."
"He flipped out. Again." Feli sounded tired by this point, exasperated. "He's such a grumpy old man."
I started to laugh. "I can't believe you just said that."
Feli's giggling caught up with mine, as he said, "Well, it's true. He used to be nicer when we were kids."
"We were easier to manipulate."
"Possibly, ve~"
"So, you really want me to come over? I'll have to get back before Sunday, though."
"That's okay. I'll make you lots of pasta and pizza and tiramisu!" His voice was getting higher and higher as he spoke. I could imagine him jumping around the room, already working out the recipes in his head.
"Knock yourself out. I'll take the next train home."
"You're leaving?" Antonio asked so incredulously that it was almost as though I'd told him I was sheltering a unicorn in the basement or something. (I could imagine that conversation: "But Lovi, unicorns like sunlight! You're not supposed to keep them in basements! My good friend RainbowSparkleFace the Unicorn told me so!")
"For one night. I'll be back on Saturday."
"Saturday night," Antonio muttered. First I thought he was just irritated, but then his face fell. "I can't believe you're leaving me right now."
"The fuck?" I put my hands on my hips in an attempt to look threatening. Antonio had the look of a puppy who had been denied a treat, all forlorn and devastated. I sighed. "Do you want to come with me?"
"I can't," he muttered darkly before that expression slipped off his features as well, replaced with something akin to longing. He pulled me into a kiss that he kept deepening, and even as we broke apart, his hands dragged me into a hug. "I love you, Lovi," he said sadly. "I'll miss you."
"I'm not dying. Besides, you have my phone number!"
Antonio just buried his head in my shoulder and stood like that, wordless, and let me card his hair.
"Do you love me?" he asked sadly.
I wanted to swallow my tongue and melt into the floor.
"I don't know."
"That's okay," I thought I heard him whisper.
Although I was happy to see my brother again - especially without the threat of him running away in the dead of night - my mind was flitting between family drama and Antonio drama. The look of absolute grief Antonio had given me as he waved me off at the station made my stomach roil. Feli caught onto my mood, too, because he made sure we weren't in the house for very long.
"I'm still so shocked Grandpa let me study art," Feliciano told me as we were getting some gelato at the nearby ice cream parlour. "He just called me up when I was asleep in your dorm and told me he saw my potential."
"Yeah, that's great, but how?"
"I have no idea! He said it was manipulative of me to leave my sketchbook open on his nightstand, but it helped him see my talent. And also that he was so proud of me for being manipulative."
I just stared.
"And," Feli continued, "When I checked my bag, I couldn't find my sketchbook. I was so sure I'd taken it with me. Antonio even looked at it, didn't he?" My brother scrunched up his nose. "Did he? I don't remember."
"Can we not talk about Antonio?" I rested my cheek on my hand. "He's in such a weird mood lately."
"How so?"
"I just told you I don't want to talk about him."
"You brought him up, Romano."
I narrowed my eyes. "Lovino."
Feliciano placed me under this odd, wise look that seemed so fitting and yet so unexpected on his face. "You could change your name and leave the country, Romano, but you'll always be related to Grandpa."
"I wish I wasn't," I said with a sigh, but Antonio wasn't here to make it come true.
"You love Grandpa. In your own way."
"I wish I didn't," I went on.
Feliciano reached forward and flicked my forehead with his fingers. "You're above making silly wishes, Romano. That's what I've always admired about you."
I felt my cheeks go bright red and I dropped my gaze from Feli's eyes. Instead, I watched his gelato melt down the waffle cone and stain his fingers. "Shut up and eat your ice cream," I told him.
"It's gelato," he corrected, pedantic, before proceeding to devour it.
Saturday Evening, In The Train on the Way Back to College
Francis: Lovino do u kno where toni is
Francis: lovino its urgent
Francis: Gilbert thinks hes run away
Me: WHAT?
Me: I GO HOME FOR ONE FUCKING NIGHT AND THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS?
Francis: Vargas, this is Gilbert. I took Francis's phone.
Francis: It's a long story but basically Antonio gate-crashed Roderich's birthday party with a cage full of pigeons he got from I DON'T KNOW WHERE.
Francis: And those birds crapped all over the place.
Francis: It was funny until Antonio nearly passed out.
Me: What the fuck
Me: I don't even know what to react to first
Francis: Yeah, after it was all over, Toni nearly passed out. Francis - I'd sent him there to spy on Liz - had to steady him.
Me: You creep.
Francis: And the second Toni got his footing he ran to the dorm. Dunno where he is now but all his stuff is gone. Except for his coat. His red coat is on his bed.
Me: He left his coat behind.
Francis: merde lovino this is francis again
Francis: why do you care about the coat right now. we have more important things to do
Francis: did he call you
Me: No. I'll call him.
Francis: Lovino i'm worried. he's really sick.
Me: sick?
Francis: when he nearly passed out i checked his forehead. he had a fever. which is weird because he was fine until the pigeon incident
Me: Thanks. Calling him now.
"So what is this? The source of your magic powers or something?"
"Sorta. Not source, exactly. It's more like a uniform. The coat validates my existence."
Validates his fucking existence.
Antonio would not have left that coat behind accidentally.
Something was seriously wrong.
His phone kept going to voicemail, and I kept looking at the night sky. It was so cold. I was cold. My palms were shaking and my eyes were burning and my heavy, erratic breathing was making people on the train look at me.
As soon as it reached the station, I sprung out and pushed past the crowd, throat drowning in the urge to scream. Antonio, Antonio, Antonio, where the fuck was he? Why had he run away? What was going on?
My phone's ringtone shot out at me like a viper. I felt like I'd been bitten, venom seeping into my bloodstream as I answered it without looking at the caller's name. "Y-yes?" I managed to whisper.
"Romano, hey, it's me! You left a pair of socks here, what do you want me to do with them?"
"Feli?" I let out an exhale as my heart seemed to miss a beat. Oxygen fell from my lungs as I reached out to the nearest wall to steady myself.
"...Romano?" Feliciano's tone had changed. "Romano, what's wrong?"
"Antonio," I blurted, "Antonio. He ran away. Something's happened, I don't - I don't know what to do!"
There was silence on the other end. Then, "I'm so sorry."
"Don't say that!" I cried, "You make it sound like he's dying!"
'Like he's dying'.
...The idea...had crossed my mind…
More than once.
Ever since I received Francis's text.
Because - Because Antonio was special. He wasn't like the rest of us. He was - I don't know, fuck, magical? - And something about Gilbert's last wish had been off to Antonio.
"Sorry. Listen, Romano, calm down. Think. Is there a place he'd go to? Anything he mentioned once?"
"Nothing," I replied bitterly, wiping a stray tear from my eye. Antonio never mentioned a thing about himself if he could help it. I knew his big secret, but he protected it viciously. Antonio never said anything about his background or his interests, or anything. Whenever the conversation lingered on him too long, he'd swiftly change it to something else. Because he was good with his words. Because people were drawn to him, and he could subtley manipulate them. He'd get them to open up, and they'd inevitably tell him what they wished for.
He'd make those wishes come true.
Just like a shooting star.
Wait.
"Fuck," I snapped, loudly enough that people passing by gave me dirty looks. "Feli, I think I know where he is."
"Oh! That's so great!"
"I have to go." I cut the phone before Feliciano could say another word, and ran out of the station so fast I almost threw an old lady to the ground.
That night everyone saw the shooting star. I'd been drunk, so, so drunk, I'd woken up barely remembering anything. But I'd...seen...no, heard...something fall to the ground. Something large.
Into that thicket.
It was mad, wild guess. But it was the only thing I could think of.
I couldn't see any taxis, but there were bicycles on rent outside the station, and I didn't have the time to stand in line at the counter to pay for one. Looking left, looking right, hands in my pockets, a bobby pin I always kept with me.
"Thank you, Grandpa," I whispered fervently as I knelt down and undid the bicycle lock. He'd taught me how to do this when I was ten, told me to always keep a bobby pin handy. I couldn't believe this had worked.
"HEY! YOU! STOP!" someone shouted at me as I cycled away, as ferociously as I could.
My legs burned as I cycled like a creature possessed.
The street was as creepy as before, with those bars and the ill-paced McDonalds and the dead silence. Even the music from these establishments seemed to disappear into the night sky.
The copse loomed in the distance, like the claws of a giant monster. Breathlessly, I shouted, "Antonio!"
I threw my cycle to the side of the road when I approached, jumping off and running to the trees. There was no light here and the night sky made everything seem lonelier. I had my phone out with the flashlight on, and my bones froze as Antonio's prone form caught my eye.
He was barely conscious as he sat propped against a tree drunk, his breathing faint and eyes dull.
"Antonio! Fuck!"
His lashes fluttered as he looked at me. "Oh, hey, Lovi," he murmured as though this was a perfectly normal situation. "Never thought anyone would find me here."
His skin was dangerously hot and I pulled my hand back in the space of a second. "You need to be in hospital." My fingers fumbled as I tried to text Francis, call someone - and Antonio's weak hand reached out to hold mine.
"You of all people know that's not going to work."
Why was he smiling like that? Like this was some sort of joke.
My throat went dry. "But -"
"I'm dying," he explained gently. "Sort of, anyway. My body's dying. I can't die, I'm a spirit. I'll always exist. I'll always be. I always was."
"W-what?" I stammered. My brain and all its logical thought had collapsed, and all I could do was listen to Antonio speak. It was taking him so much effort, but I didn't dare stop him. He had to say his piece, and I had to hear it.
"You know that," Antonio prodded, poking my cheek with his finger. "You're always watching, aren't you?"
"The carnations," I blurted.
"Mm," Antonio said. "Like a receipt. When people make a wish, I make it come true, and then I give them a flower to finish the transaction. A receipt."
"You're a shooting star."
Antonio chuckled. "I'm a spirit. Of a shooting star. And that night, so many people wished on me. I was just pulled here." He paused and added, "At this very spot. That's where I fell. Here's where I'll go back. You knew that, of course. You've got this way about you."
"You can't die," I whispered, tears leaking out of my eyes. "I won't let you." My breath shuddering, I closed my eyes. "I wish you live. I wish you live. I wish you -"
"Don't." Antonio's voice was sharp, much stronger than his weak body should have allowed. "I can't fulfill any more wishes. I'm spent. And you're better than inane wishing, anyway."
Funny. That was the second time in two days I'd heard that.
"I'm compelled to make all wishes come true," Antonio went on with tired sigh. "Even ones that hurt other people in some way. Gilbert wanted Roderich to have a bad birthday. By terrorising him and his guests with pigeons. The problem is, if I fulfill a wish that hurts another person, I get hurt too."
"Then you shouldn't have!" I shouted, panicked.
"I have to. It's what I am." Antonio's green eyes regarded me kindly. "Sit with me? Don't kneel over me like that."
Our shoulders touched, and he was burning through his clothes. "I've fulfilled over a hundred and twenty wishes since I've come here," Antonio started simply. "But you never asked for anything. Even though you knew I could make them all come true."
"I don't need wishes," I mumbled, wiping my eyes even as new tears fell.
"I know, I think that's brilliant." He inhaled, and with some difficulty, said, "Most people have the capacity to make their wishes come true all on their own. Like Matthew. He only needed some support and an idea to get him into it. Gilbert just needed to be more bold about his kinder side. Ivan only needed a tutor and to put in the hours. Feliciano just needed your grandfather to see his talent. Francis...he just needed to feel like he could open up to someone. And Dr. Kirkland just needed to use his piled up sick-leave." Antonio laughed softly to himself. "Nobody asked for something they couldn't achieve themselves. I can't bring the dead back, or manipulate emotion, or somehow magically make you not be related to an annoying family member." He gave me a knowing look.
"I can only help people make their wishes come true themselves," he went on. "But you never needed help. You always knew that you were capable of giving yourself anything you wanted. I've always liked that about you. That's why I fell in love with you."
"Don't you have a wish?" I whispered. "What do you want?"
Antonio's laugh was small and sad. "Really, Lovino? I'd like to nap for a while now…I'm so tired..."
Antonio's body disappeared completely, like an optical illusion, and I howled and howled and howled. I just curled up under that tree and cried because there was nothing left of him, nothing but flimsy memories, and I was all alone.
...Then there was a soft breeze, and it felt like someone was caressing my cheek. From the treetops, a red carnation fell onto my lap.
The one thing Antonio heard me wish for was the one that came true. Because he was a spirit, and spirits, apparently, did not die.
When I managed to drag myself back to college, it was dawn. My body hurt, I was crying, and I'd sobbed so hard at one point I'd nearly thrown up.
And things in college were...calmer...than I'd expected.
Francis and Gilbert were sound asleep - they shouldn't have been - and there was a red coat on my bunk. Just for me. I crawled into bed, hugging the only thing Antonio left behind, and wept some more.
When I woke up, Francis took one look at my face and said, "You need to rest. You look ill."
"Aren't you going to ask about Antonio?" I murmured, my head hurting too hard to protest.
"Who?" Gilbert asked, throwing me a look.
I blinked, raising my head. "Antonio?"
"No idea who he is," Francis said. "Is he a celebrity?"
The realisation that dawned on me was cold and horrible. "No," I replied, staring at them in abject horror. "You don't know him at all."
Nobody remembered him. Not Kirkland, not Elizabeta and Roderich, not Ivan or Matthew, not even Feli. But the effects he left were everywhere. Francis started opening up to us about Jeanne. Gilbert had about a hundred pictures of himself and Elizabeta on Facebook, and he would stare jealously as she now kissed only Roderich's lips. Kuma the bear was taken out of the zoo and sent to another - much, much nicer - facility. Ivan got straight As for the rest of the year. Feliciano started applying to art schools.
And my heart hurt all the time.
For the first few weeks, I thought I was going crazy. It felt like I'd dreamed up Antonio in some sort of schizophrenic episode. But there was that red coat. Every time I wore it, I felt powerful and warm, safe and most importantly, loved. I felt like he was there with me, holding me. It couldn't just be my mind having a psychotic break, right? It simply felt too real.
I spent the rest of the year like a ghost, full of grief and loneliness, feeling like there was something inside me that was inexplicably missing.
And the night after my finals, when everyone else was celebrating, I hid out inside my empty dorm, curled into the jacket, crying. "I wish I didn't feel so lonely," I said, hoping - daring to hope - for some sort of -
Someone knocked on the door and I jumped up.
Fuck. Fuck. Who was that? Could it be - ?
There was a box of chocolate at the door and a red carnation sitting on top of it.
Heart hammering, fingers cold, I lifted them up, turning the flower's stem in my hands. "Hello?" I asked, peering out into the hallway.
There was nobody.
"Wow," I whispered, stepping inside and closing the door. I placed the chocolates on the nearest flat surface and went to put the carnation in some water.
That's it. I'm done. Do you believe me?
Maybe you do. Maybe you don't. I don't actually care.
Because there's a knock on the door right now, and I've been expecting chocolates and flowers.
A/N: DON'T KILL ME ANTONIO IS NOT DEAD. He's just a spirit so he exists all around like some formless deity C:
Well. So. Um. This is actually the most condensed version. I could - and would have, ideally - made this a minimum of 11 chapters, because this is a fantasy and has a lot of details and an exacting plot. But I neither had the time nor the inclination to get involved in such a large project right now.
I think I'm done with fanfiction for a while. (I go through these phases). Lately, I've been focusing on my own writing and I've started a new novel. That and college work is going to take up a lot of my time, since this is my last year.
Thank you so much for reading! Please review :D
