It has been a while, and I'm soooo sorry. But in recompense I have a long chapter of fluff, GERITAAA, and the inevitable angst.
And even better... it's Lovi's POV! But beware of his language.
Ludwig - 21, Francis - 24/25, Gilbert - 27
Chapter Three
Jealousy, Edvard Munch. 1907. Oil on Canvas. (Part One)
(Lovino's POV)
~/~
That damn Spanish bastard.
Thanks to him, the past two weeks have gone by very annoyingly. That's the only way to put it. I think the biggest problem I have is that I see him all the damn time. Monday, Wednesday and Friday I see him for six consistent hours, and Tuesday and Thursday, I get no break, and have to experience his frustratingly unwavering, happiness for another three. God fucking damn it.
I don't know what I hate more: the way Antonio always makes an effort to talk to me, to smile at me with his easy smile, sparkling, green eyes, and smooth Spanish accent…Or my reaction to it all. No matter how hard I try, I can't stop my heartbeat from picking up whenever I enter the studio, or stop my eyes from frantically darting around, searching for his tall, tan figure. Even when I'm drawing, I've developed this damned...compulsion to flick my eyes up every five or ten minutes to see what he's up to. If Antonio's talking to Alfred, that annoyingly loud American, I quietly tap my iPhone and pause my music, so I can hear his warm, musical laugh. And somehow, I find myself smiling just at the sound of it…Which pisses me the hell off, because I can't draw straight.
During the first week, Feliciano actually managed to attend all of his classes, even if he was late every, damn time. So for every class that we had together, we sat next to each other; mostly due to my own insistence that we sit with each other. I don't want to sit next to some American strangers.
But last week, for whatever reason, Feliciano became more and more elusive; frequently skipping part, or all of his classes, to go "get some coffee," whatever the hell that means. I know what it meant for me, it meant an open invitation for the Spanish bastard to sit across from me, where Feli normally sits. He never sits there for very long, only for ten minutes or so, but each time it feels like a fucking hour. I don't know what to do when he sits down, all curly, brown hair, and white, shining teeth, and starts talking random shit. Like last Friday for example, Antonio spent two full minutes staring at me drawing, then out of the blue, asks:
"Hey Lovi, where do you live in Italy?"
Since I was cornered I felt forced to respond. So as I was dusting away extra eraser shavings I answered, "Um, Firenze…"
"Oh, really? I went there on vacation a few summers ago with my friends! I wonder if we passed each other on the streets. Do you think that's possible?" He looked at me dreamily, and I blushed at his stupid fantasies.
"Doubt it," I deadpanned, still painfully aware of the lingering blush on my cheeks.
Antonio pretended to be shocked – or maybe he really is that dumb – and stared at me with a pout before droning, "Awwww Lovi! Don't be like that. It's possible! Think carefully. During the first week of July, two summers ago, do you remember seeing an attractive, dark Spaniard wearing – um – shorts…yeah, I think I wore shorts the whole week. And I was probably walking with a flamboyant, blonde guy –"
"Alfred?" I interrupted in disbelief. I never thought of him as flamboyant. Arrogant, yes, but for God's sake he wears fucking overalls to class!
"No, this is my friend Francis." Antonio laughed, his eyes looked away from me briefly, before returning with a newfound glitter. "He's actually a graduate student here. Maybe you can meet him one day! He's studying fashion, and since you're Italian you guys might get along –"
"I don't care about meeting some sissy, fashion guy!" I half-yelled, stifling my frustration midway after recalling there were still a few stragglers in the classroom. I looked down at my paper, feeling slightly guilty for lashing at Antonio, and huffed, "Weren't you in the middle of another story?"
His eyes brightened with recognition, and he resumed his story with a wave of his hand.
"Yeah, as I was saying, you would've probably see me with Francis, and another guy, this one a platinum blonde – he'd probably look like an albino from afar. He's very loud and sings a lot; I think he was singing a lot at the bars we went to. He's in a band, you know! Actually, there's this pretty funny story where…"
Antonio continued to prattle on about details, like what he think they wore each day of the week, what restaurants they went to, the churches they visited, while still managing to mix in multiple "pretty funny" stories he and Francis and Gil went through. For some reason, as Antonio continued telling his story and laughing at his memories, I found myself growing increasingly and increasingly quiet. The thought of him, prancing around Firenze with his undoubtedly charming, and talented, and good-looking friends pointed out how little about Antonio I knew about, and how small of a part I was in his life. Oh, for God's sake, I'm his student! Why the hell do I even care?
Eventually, Antonio noticed I shut down, and for once, he decided to be intuitive and change the subject.
"So Lovino, when did you start drawing?"
"I've always done it," I said automatically, refusing to give into his attempts at conversation.
"Why'd you start?" He continued, blatantly ignoring my clipped answer.
Quietly, I mumbled, "I don't know, because it was preschool and we had to…"
"Why'd you continue to do it?" He pressed, and I swear I could hear a smile in his voice. Why the hell was he smiling?
I stared dumbly at my sketch for a while, debating whether I should answer honestly, make something up, or just answer with an "I don't know." I glanced around the room once to make sure no one was too close, and answered slowly, "It's a lot easier than talking."
"Oh, do you not like to talk?" Antonio asked, and this time I looked up to confirm that damnable smile. I don't see what's so funny about this.
"What the hell do you think?" I burst out, suddenly indifferent to the others in the room.
He kept an even gaze with me, and I saw his eyes soften thoughtfully. I think the only thing that's worse than a smiling Antonio, is a quiet Antonio. It freaks me out when he goes all philosophical, and I felt my palms start to sweat. Finally, he blinked, and replied, "Hmm, I think you're going to be a great artist, Lovi."
"W-where the hell did that come from?" I stuttered.
"Well, I just think art is more important to you than it is to most people. You need it to express yourself, right? So you're very passionate about it and work very hard at it."
Something about the way Antonio looked at me as he was saying those ridiculously stupid, cheesy lines, made me want to cry – for once, I felt like someone was actually seeing me. But before I could talk, I glanced away to blink the tears back into my eye (because that's possible), and choked down the knot in my throat. Then I mumbled, "I'm not as talented as Feliciano though…"
"Well, I haven't seen Feliciano's work yet, so I can't give you my opinion, but from what I can tell…You love it more. So eventually you'll probably be the greater artist." He gave me a ridiculous, exaggerated wink and I noticed his cheeks were lightly dusted in a light blush. "Besides, Feliciano looks like the type of person who has a lot of interests. He might very well decide to do something else one day. It doesn't look like art is his whole life."
I grunted in response, and decided not to add my cynical commentary. Antonio doesn't know what he's talking about until he sees Feliciano's artwork. Feli's a prodigy; everyone has always said so. Art comes so easily to him. He was able to pick up painting, sculpting, pastels, printmaking, and almost everything else after just reading a book. That's why Nonno insisted he receive formal training as an artist, and that's why we're in America. Nonno didn't think I would be able to make it in to an art school, because I'm not as good as Feliciano, but he was prepared to send me wherever Feliciano decided to go anyway, since Feliciano needed someone to watch out for him. And it's true, Feliciano does need someone to keep care of him, so I would've come to New York, even if I hadn't gotten in. But I'm glad I did, just so I can rub it in Nonno's face.
I've actually been feeling rather confident lately – it's probably that Spanish bastard's fault. He always insists on seeing my artwork, and goes over the top in his praise for it; it's so damn embarrassing, I don't know how to react to compliments. I end up blushing furiously, cursing, and avoiding eye contact, as part of my three-step coping process. But today, all of that built-up confidence is going to crash and burn, I just know it.
Today is Monday of the third week in school, and for most of my art classes (those I have with Antonio), our first projects are due. So now, Antonio will finally be able to compare my art with Feliciano and realize what an idiot he's been for boosting my confidence, and calling me a "natural artist," and all that other crap. Worst part of it is that even I don't know what Feliciano's been up to, so I'm not mentally prepared for the inevitable display of sparkling grandeur.
I sneak a nervous glance at Feliciano's large, black portfolio, resting on our kitchen counter, and sigh. I could ask Feli to show me, I know he would; he already asked me several times to look over his work. But I turned him down every time: I know it'll just get me depressed.
"Vee~fratello! Can we stop at Starbucks on the way to class?" I heard Feli call out from his room.
"Again? You already had coffee this morning!" I yelled back, as I started preparing for the inevitable trek; sliding my black, Diesel leather jacket over my red, long-sleeved t-shirt, and slipping on my black converse.
"Aww, you can never have too much coffee!" I heard Feliciano's light steps echo down the hall, until he skipped into the kitchen brightly dressed in a warm, yellow button down, rolled up at the sleeves (like always), layered with a champagne colored waistcoat, and various types of bracelets bouncing at his wrists. As he strode to the marble countertop to pick up his portfolio, I noticed he was wearing his favorite pair of Armani jeans, cuffed above the ankles, and his shiniest bronze-toned oxfords. What the –
"Why the hell are you so dressed up?" I shouted at him, swinging around in my stool to face him, further scrutinizing his perfectly styled hair (except for the curl of course), and sparkling diamond earrings.
Feli made a face and replied, "I don't know what you're talking about~! I always dress like this." He danced to the door, portfolio in hand, and began turning the knob. "Come on Lovi, or else we'll be late!"
"It's fucking 7:30! Class starts at nine, and Starbucks is just across the street from the school!" I yelled back at him, as I already resigned to picking up my messenger bag, and stomping to the door.
"Mmm, I go to a different one. It's a little further away~" Feliciano sing-songed, and bounded down the long staircase. Why the hell did he ask Nonno for a penthouse apartment?
"How far is a 'little further'?" I demanded, trudging on each step.
"Not too far, I promise!" Feliciano smiled at me, golden-brown eyes sparkling. Why can't I be so damn happy?
I grumbled a surrendered "fine" and followed him into the fancy lobby, rolling my eyes every time Feliciano waved a "hello" to an employee, and slapped my palm to my forehead when he started a conversation with the doorman. Eventually, we managed to make it out of the well-to-do apartment complex, and into the bustling, insanely crowded, New York sidewalks. One of the main reasons we chose this place was because it was close to the school; that, and it had an amazing, decked out kitchen. So right now, as we're marching in the complete opposite direction, I can't help but groan at the prospect of so much exercise. I'm already exhausted from camping out in the art studio all weekend; I can't handle a hike Monday morning. At least we're doing this for coffee. It better be some damned good coffee too.
Feli and I didn't share much of a conversation on the way, which is strange because, although I'm bad at talking, usually Feliciano is able to ramble on about random nonsense endlessly. Whatever, I have my own problems to think about.
"Vee~we're here!" I heard Feliciano giggle, running ahead to pull open the door for me.
I walked inside with another roll of my eyes, and sighed a fake "great." Feliciano skipped to my side instantly, and I followed his skip to the line, which was winding its way around the tables. Great.
"So what are you getting?" I asked, already bored. I hate chain restaurants. When Feliciano doesn't answer, I nudged him with my elbow and asked again, "Hey, what are you getting?"
Feliciano briefly flit his eyes over my face and mumbled a "non lo so" before returning his attention to the counter, balancing on his tiptoes to look over the other people's heads.
"What the hell are you looking at?" I hissed at him, imitating his line of sight to catch anything particular.
"Oh, nothing – Aha!" Feliciano dropped his heels to the floor and smiled at me. "I think I'll get a cappuccino."
"Hmph, well I guess I'll get the usual." I say, still obsessively staring at the counter. What was Feliciano looking at?
"Lovi?" I heard a familiar voice exclaim, and my heart skipped a beat. Very slowly, I turn my head around to see the exact face I have been dreading all weekend. Antonio smiles down at me, his green eyes too bright and dazzling for a Monday morning (what is with everyone?), and asked, "Why are you here?"
After a moment of stunned pause, I remember to lower my head, glare, and respond sarcastically, "Why else would I be here? I wanted coffee!" I stepped forward in line automatically.
"Oh, and what do we have here? Is this your new boyfriend, Toni?" I redden ten-fold at the combination of "your" and "boyfriend" that it takes me a few hazy seconds to hone in on the snotty, French accent. He's blonde, with long, well-kept hair; and dressed to the nines in a black, tailored suit, though absent of any tie, with the top buttons of his shirt undone.
"Wh-Who the hell are you?" I stuttered, drawing my hands to my face to cool my cheeks down.
"Ah, have you not heard of me already?" He smiled easily, and offered me a seductive, blue-eyed gaze.
"I told you about him Lovino! This is Francis; he's the fashion graduate." Antonio smiled at me, apparently unfazed by the French bastard's statement, and his movements closing in on me. Oh, it's the flamboyant, French-Canadian blonde from the stories.
"Lovino! Such a beautiful name, for such a beautiful boy!" He extended his arm to caress my cheek, and before I registered what happened, Antonio had already grabbed Francis's forearm, and interrupted him with a much less happy-go-lucky smile than I was accustomed to.
"He also has a brother – a twin – you should meet him, I'm sure the two of you would get along amazingly." Antonio shared a level stare with Francis, much more serious than I had ever seen him, which made me uneasy, so I decided to break the tension.
"Bastard, don't go selling my fratello off to random weirdos! This guy is nowhere near good enough for him." I pointed accusingly at Francis, and waited for Antonio to finally release his hold of him.
Quickly, Antonio let go and laughed a startlingly, forced laugh, "Ah, I guess you're right Lovi! Francis probably isn't even Feli's type."
"Hmm, well I don't know about that," Francis piped up, grinning mischievously at something in the distance. "It looks like he has a thing for blondes."
"What the hell are you ta –" My voice trailed off as I turned around to see what he was looking at. I didn't even half to see what was going on, as soon as I heard the ring of Feli's laugh, I muttered an "oh shit" under my breath and sped to the register, closing the giant gap in the line I had neglected.
Feli was leaning over the desk, left hand brushing through his hair, eyes twinkling, and although I didn't catch what he was saying because he was talking so fast, I bet it was something meaningless and flirtatious. Great, Feli has another crush. I shove my way to the register, and immediately prepare to stare down the bastard. Turns out, I had to look up, because he was very, very tall this blonde guy. Taller than Antonio was the first thing that came to mind – and it pissed me off that he was the first person I thought of. The blonde bastard looked very serious, to the point of constipated, but also slightly flustered; no doubt Feli was working his charms on him. He was still blushing slightly when he turned his focus on me, but in a flash he regained composure, and asked mechanically, "And what will you have today?"
Right, well see if you can handle this blondie."I'll have a grande hazelnut macchiato, double shot of espresso, soy milk, no foam, extra hazelnut drizzle."
He didn't even blink before replying with a level, "Okay, and is this order toge –"
"You know what? I changed my mind." I interrupt him, suddenly wide-awake by the adrenaline pumping through my veins. "I'll have a venti, non fat, no foam, no water, six pump, extra hot, chai tea latte."
The blonde bastard waited a moment, before replying, "And will this order be together?"
"Well, actu –" I heard Feli pipe up, but I shut him down before he can distract the blonde giant's attention away from me.
"Yes, together."
I hand him my credit card before he bothers to announce the price, and snatch the receipt from him quickly, giving him one last dirty look before ambling over to the pick-up counter. I overhear Feliciano finish a hurried, "Sorry, my brother's in a bad mood this morning," and I strum my fingers on the countertop in frustration. But before I could say anything, Feliciano made the first move with a flick to my ear.
"Hey!" I snapped as I met Feli's rare serious face.
"What was that?" He whispered harshly, knitting his eyebrows in effort to seem angry.
"What? I should be asking you that! Who is that guy?"
And just like that, Feli's face completely relaxed, and he dreamily looked in the blonde bastard's direction. "Oh, that's Ludwig. He works here."
"Yeah, I can see that. Is that the only reason we walked over here?" I whispered back furiously, flicking my eyes up when I heard Antonio start his order. Oh, he drinks a cappuccino. That sounds like him.
"Yes!" Feli exclaimed; his hands open in a broad Italian gesture. "I've been coming here everyday trying to get his attention, but he never notices me!" He pouted and cast a despairing glance at Ludwig, while he's preparing our order.
"Is that why you're so dressed up?" I demanded, already well aware of the answer.
"Yes! I've tried everything. But he never notices me, or starts a conversation. I even visit his second job sometimes, at the gym."
"At the gym?" I asked half-surprised, and half-worried.
"Yeah, he teaches a strength class called Bodypump! It's actually really fun!" He caught my anxious stare and continued encouragingly, "Don't worry though! Ludwig's a med-student, so if anything happens, he'll save me!"
My eyebrows eased up a bit, but I criticized him, saying, "You're too weak to be lifting weights." And you have asthma, I wanted to add, but he hates it when I use that against him.
"Oh, don't worry! Everyone lifts weights that are right for them. Ludwig gave me the lightest ones…though he didn't even make eye contact." Feli started to pout again, and I was beginning to worry he might actually cry, so I dug deep to find the honesty and kindness within me and be a decent brother for once.
"Feli, do you think he hates you?" I asked slightly exasperated.
"No, I just think he doesn't remember me."
I scanned behind the counter to see a pair of blue eyes poised in our direction, more specifically in Feli's, and I smirk knowingly, "Mmm, I don't think so. I think he's just pretending."
"R-really? Why do you say that?" Feliciano widened his eyes, and already the corners of his lips were twitching into a smile.
"Well, whenever you look away, he's looking at you. That's one clue. He was also blushing when I caught you two at the register…"
"No, he's always like that. I don't think I've ever seen him – Ooooh!" Feliciano clapped his hands excitedly, and I caught Francis and Antonio giggling at us. After I sent them a death glare I saw Feliciano looking perplexed. "But then, why hasn't he said anything to me?"
I rolled my eyes at Feli's ignorance. "Idiot, he's probably really shy."
"Oh, do you think so?" Feli looked at Ludwig adjusting the lids on the drinks and puckered his lips in thought. "But he's so tall and strong, how could he be shy?"
"Maybe he's just shy about love-stuff. He looks more like the serious type than a romantic." I subconsciously glanced at Antonio when I said romantic, and panicked when I noticed he was staring back at me. For some reason, Antonio took this as a cue to walk over, and I tried desperately to purposefully halt my blushing, but to no avail.
"Feli, are you having romantic troubles?" Antonio asked curiously, smiling only at my brother, and completely ignoring me now, damn it.
"Oh, Toni! You must be good at this! How do I get Ludwig to talk to me without scaring him?" Feliciano beamed at Antonio excitedly, flashing his light brown eyes and childish smile.
"Well Feli, with someone like Ludwig – who I know pretty well – I would just be direct. He's not very good and reading between the lines. So, just walk up to him and ask him to meet you someplace." Antonio smiled at him, but before Feliciano could catch Ludwig's attention, Antonio leaned near Feliciano's ear and whispered another series of hushed words, too quiet for me to hear. Then he gave Feliciano that stupid, exaggerated wink I saw on Friday, and motioned for him to talk to Ludwig, who was already placing our drinks on the counter.
"Hey –" I started to approach the blonde bastard, but before I made one step forward, Antonio wrenched me backwards, with a hard grip on my arm. "Hey, you bastard! What are you doing? That hurts! Let me go!" I tried to beat on his chest with my fists, but he immediately lowered his face to my own (way, way too close) and held one finger to his lips.
"Shh, Lovi. Let Feliciano talk to Ludwig on his own, he doesn't need your help."
"My WHAT?" I yelled louder, trying to catch Feli's attention and annoy Antonio at the same time. My eyes dart in Feli's direction quickly and notice he's still twirling his hair, so I shifted my eyes to Antonio's and tried again, "Who said I wanted to help Feli win over his new crush? It's going to be the same thing all over again!"
Antonio knitted his eyebrows together, apparently processing information that his Spanish brain was too lazy to piece together, but when he opened his mouth to talk, suddenly another voice interrupted.
"Hey Toni! Sorry I'm late! Have you been missing my awesomeness?" A shorter (but unfortunately, still taller than me), platinum blonde gave Antonio a loud slap to the back, and a crooked grin. God, he's pale. He almost looks like an albin – shit.
"Ah, Gilbert! I was wondering if you weren't going to make it. Antoine and I already ordered." Francis spoke up from his seat at the table beside us.
"Fine with me. Luddy starts whipping my order up the moment his awesome brother walks through the door!" Gilbert waved rapidly to Ludwig's red, flustered face; then proceeded to make random hand gestures. Which I guess were some sort of code? Or an American thing? I started to zone out and pay attention to how close I was to Antonio; I could smell the paint soap on him. Fortunately, he was talking to Gilbert, so he didn't notice my face redden ten fold. But as I was pressing my free, cool hand to my cheeks, I caught Gilbert staring down at me. Oh, I guess he just noticed. "Hey, who's this guy? He's not joining our 'bad touch breakfast' right?" Gilbert laughed maniacally and looked at Francis and Antonio for some sort of signal.
But I didn't want to wait for Antonio to publicly humiliate me in front of his friends and downgrade me to "just a student," or "some guy I know," so I jerked my arm free from Antonio's grip and uttered a distinct, "No." Then stalked away in Feli's direction.
I wanted to avoid their faces, so I rushed to Feliciano's side, who was thankfully not at the counter anymore, and standing at the milk and sugar table. Maybe I can convince Feli to leave with me now and go to the art studio with me. I just want to sit in peace and quiet with my art supplies and not have to deal with all of these goddamn people and their goddamn emotions.
"Hey Feli, did you get our drinks?" I asked quickly, watching him add Splenda into both cups.
"Yep, I did!" He said happily, stirring my drink a few times, before capping it with the plastic lid.
"Great," I started, grabbing my drink from him hastily, and adding, "Because I was thinking maybe –"
"Ludwig is going to join me for coffee!" Feliciano squealed, dazzling me with a bright smile.
"What?" I asked dumbly, not sure which negative emotion to feel right now. So in one day I'm going to be rejected by the only two people I like. Scratch that. One person. Feliciano. I do not like that annoying, Spanish bastard. I hate him.
"Yeah, I asked him if he had time to explain his job to me, because I was thinking of working here, and he said he went on break in five minutes! Isn't that exciting?" He abandoned his open drink at the table and enveloped me in an awkward hug. Awkward for me at least, because I was balancing a hot drink, and trying to avoid choking on Feli's hair.
"You're getting a job?" My voice doesn't sound right, it sounds sort of distant, but Feli doesn't seem to notice and releases me so I can see his eyes shine with stupid, lighthearted, happiness.
"Vee~Maybe! I mainly just wanted an excuse to talk to him, but it also seems sort of fun! And I could spend more time with Ludwig that way!" He turned back to the table and closed the lid on his drink.
I loitered behind Feli for a moment, unsure if I should be selfish and drag him away from Ludwig, or just leave and let him be happy. I end up deciding its better for everyone if I leave, so I tap Feli on the shoulder to get his attention, and say in the most normal voice I can muster, "I'm going on ahead to the studio. I'll see you later."
"What? Why don't you go join Antonio and his friends?" Feli exclaimed, and it briefly crossed my mind that this whole thing was some sort of elaborate set-up.
But I sighed at my stupidity, and, because I currently lacked the energy to be an Italian hothead, I harshly mumbled, "As if I would sit with that stupid bastard…" Then I walked quickly and efficiently through the building, navigating myself far away from Antonio's table – though I did sneak a glance to see them laughing together – and rushed out the door.
Ugh, I hate this. I hate this so much.
I stand outside the Starbucks entrance for a few moments, breathing shakily into the air, before sighing again, and beginning my resigned trek to the studio. All I want to do is be alone. That's what I'm good at. I'm no good with people, and obviously they don't like being with me, so what's the point.
I can tell myself that maybe Ludwig won't fall for Feliciano, maybe they won't start going out, but I know that's not true. Everyone falls for Feliciano. And then he'll leave me, and I'll be alone again, until the bastard breaks his heart, and I have to pick up the pieces. Again.
And then there's that stupid, damn Antonio: smiling and praising me during class, then embarrassing me with his friends. I wish he would just ignore me. That would hurt less than having him pretend to like me in front of his friends.
And then the worst part is, the day's not even over. I have to burn through three critiques today – all of them against Feliciano – and thereby humiliate myself three times, for being the untalented older brother, related to a prodigy.
I'm used to seeing Nonno, the rest of my family, acquaintances, and fucking everyone else compliment Feliciano, but I don't want the first person who's ever thought of me as a great (God that sounds ridiculous) artist to compare me with Feliciano. I don't want to see that same ridiculous smile, and passionate, green eyes sparkle and shine at anyone else – especially not Feliciano. Not because I love him or anything. I'm pretty sure I hate him. Ninety-five percent sure. Maybe eighty.
But the only stranger who's ever thought anything of me is going to abandon me. And it's going to happen… in T minus forty-five minutes.
Fuck.
~/~
I'm sorry it sort of ends on a cliff hanger, and we didn't really get anywhere, but I promise to update this fic next! My US/UK fic is at four chapters so I'll go ahead and try to make them even. It's hard balancing them, but I'm trying!
For the next part we switch back to Toni's POV for plot reasons (I think. Maybe I'll split it in half…). I'm not happy about it either, because he's really hard to write for, but at the same time, Antonio gives me closure. I'm as insecure as Lovino about his feelings I guess.
Thank you all for reading! And a special gracias and grazie to those who favorited/followed/and reviewed! You guys make my day every time!
Until next time! :D