"Oi, how long are you going to follow me around, you bastard?!" Lovino exclaimed finally. In the short time he had met Antonio, the Spaniard had loyally followed him to the bathroom, back to the cherry tree, to an Italian restaurant and now through the streets of Rome. Although he would never admit any of this aloud, there was something… nice about being around someone who seemed to like you.

Is this why Feliciano keeps hanging around that German bastard? Lovino thought, thinking back to his younger twin– a cheerful fool, like his brother would always call him. Then again, Antonio was similar to his younger brother in more than a couple ways.

"Eh? Well… I can leave you alone, if you'd like. I don't want to be a burden." Antonio said, his voice dropping slightly in a sad tone.

"H-hey, I didn't mean it like that!" Lovino protested, face heating up like a stove. He crossed his arms defiantly, "I'll let you follow me home, if you really want to."

Antonio's face lit up at this proposal, "Really? Oh, that's great! Thank you, Lovi!" he exclaimed, at once regaining his usual cheerful self. Lovino scoffed at the dreaded nickname, but somehow… it sounded better coming from Antonio's lips than from his brother's, or anyone else's for that matter.

"Just a quick question," Antonio said, becoming slightly more solemn for the time being, "Aren't you afraid, or anything? I mean, I get that I don't look dangerous (or think that way!), but we've just known each other for a couple hours. Aren't you at least a little suspicious?"

Lovino rolled his eyes, "First of all, I don't trust you. If I trusted every bastard I came across, I'd be long dead by now. Secondly, even if you did try to rob me or kill me or anything like that, you'd be the one with a bullet through your skull."

The Italian huffed, something that almost sounded like a laugh. It left Antonio rather confused – was this a joke? Was he serious? In the short time they had known each other, this was the closest thing Antonio had heard to a laugh from his companion. Not knowing what to do, the Spaniard simply decided to ignore what Lovino had just said. Besides, the slightly creepy question he had asked deserved a slightly creepy answer, right?

"This is it," Lovino declared as he opened the door of a remote apartment. He stepped inside and the Spaniard loyally followed in behind him, eyeing everything with wonder.

It was really a rather small apartment. … Alright, it was tiny. There was one small bedroom with a double bed, one microscopic bathroom, something you could call a kitchen, and a corner with a couple beanbags. The walls were old and cracked, and the not-so-white paint on them was threatening to peel off any second. The creaking wooden floor was covered with a thin layer of dust that looked very new, and the air was filled with small dust particles that gently floated down like snow.

But the décor was beautiful. Golden framed oil paintings hung on the walls, observing everything that was happening in the apartment with their unmoving eyes. The small table in the kitchen and the double bed was made out of Brazilian mahogany, something that was almost impossible to find, much less afford in Italy. And, of course, the expensive specially tailored suits were more than enough to brag about the Italian's fortune.

"Close your damn mouth – I don't want any drool on the floor." Lovino scolded harshly, bringing Antonio back into reality. The man nodded, closed his mouth and turned back to Lovino.

"You have a very, uh… nice apartment." The Spaniard said, causing Lovino to scoff.

"You're just saying that, aren't you?" he asked, "This place is fucking small."

"W-well," Antonio chuckled, "It is a little small, but the furniture here is absolutely beautiful!"

Lovino smirked, "It better be. Cost a damn fortune. …Well, it's good you think so."

The two men smiled (one much more obviously than the other) and Lovino brought his guest to the small 'living room' (meaning the corner with the beanbags).

"Oh! Fratello! Who is this?" a cheerful voice echoed through the house, making both Lovino and Antonio jump in surprise.

Scoffing, Lovino did his best to un-tense himself, "Damn it, Feliciano! Don't scare us like that!" he exclaimed loudly, followed by a string of Italian curse words, "…And this is Antonio."

Almost immediately later a flush and the sound of running water in the sink was heard. A person came out of the bathroom, and to Antonio's astonishment, he looked very much like the man he met just a couple hours ago.

"Ciao!" the person said, bouncing towards the guest, "Sono Feliciano! Lovino es mi fratello!"

"Ah… Mi dispiace, non comprende italiano." Antonio said awkwardly to the boy. Stopping for a split second to think, the man quickly opened his mouth again, only to reply in perfect English.

"Hi! I'm Feliciano, Lovino's brother. It's nice to meet you, Antonio~" Feliciano said. Finally understanding, Antonio smiled back at the Italian and introduced himself more formally. However, it didn't quite seem that the brother was interested in that. Feliciano quickly turned to face Lovino and started speaking in hushed rapid Italian, his tone so different than before that the Spaniard had trouble believing he was the same person.

Antonio strained himself to try to understand what they were talking about. He wasn't one to listen in on other people's conversations, but… well, there was something about the way they were speaking that made him instinctively listen, against his will. Besides, he only knew the basics of Italian – the biggest reason he understood what he had up until now was because of the familiarity between Italian and his mother tongue. …And they were talking much too fast to catch all the words. But the ones that he heard were burned into his memory.

Are they speaking about… the mafia?