Sorry this is up a bit later than normal. Life has been a bit hectic lately with me getting ready to move into my house near the University next week. I hope I can continue to regularly post, but the next few weeks will be a little crazy until I can figure out my new schedule between work and school. Hopefully I can have everything figured out and get on a new schedule fairly quickly. Until then, I'll do my best at posting as often as I can!

As always, thank you for reading and for your feedback~

"Thank you for coming to see me today, Antonio. I hope I didn't call you out of class at a bad time."

"Not at all, sir," Antonio replied, bowing his head respectfully. Antonio fidgeted uneasily in his seat across from the Dean. He'd really not been expecting the sudden call out of class down the Middle School office, and his mind had quickly jumped to everything he could have possibly done wrong to land himself in this situation. Really, he'd been doing everything he was supposed to for the program, right? "Is… is there something wrong, exactly?"

The Dean breathed out through his nose and leaned back in his chair. He took a sip from his coffee mug before saying, "I'd like to talk about your mentee, Mr. Vargas."

"Ah, okay." Antonio played with the hem of his shirt nervously. Had the air conditioning stopped working in the office? It felt warmer than usual.

"No need to be nervous, Son," the Dean smiled kindly, putting his mug gently back down on the table before folding his hands together. "I just wanted to check up on how things were going. Has there been any improvement for Lovino?"

"Oh. Um, yeah," Antonio answered, his nervousness receding a bit. "He gets a bit…um…friendlier every time I see him," he continued, struggling to find the best words. Friendly wasn't really the word that fit the sour tempered Italian the best, but somehow, that was the only word Antonio's mind would supply. Unfortunately, Antonio couldn't honestly say that Lovino seemed happier yet.

"I see," the Dean frowned slightly in thought. "That's good to hear, but I -as well as Lovino's teachers - have been concerned because he hasn't been showing any sign of progress in the classroom, though It's already been nearly a month since school started. He hasn't even spoken any English yet."

"What?" Antonio blurted, bewildered. "He's been speaking plenty of English to me." He decided to leave out the fact that usually Lovino just used it to insult him.

"Has he?" the Dean asked, his eyebrows almost reaching the line of his receding hair, shock evident in his voice. "Well, this is news to me! He certainly hasn't been making the effort for anyone else." The Dean paused for a moment before asking, "Does he struggle with English? Might it be he's insecure about using it around most people because he cannot speak it well?"

Antonio shook his head. "No. He speaks it perfectly fine. I mean, yeah, he's got an accent, but it's not like you can't understand him."

"Hmm," the Dean lowered his chin to his folded fingers, eyebrows furrowing back down over his eyes. "Did you do anything in particular that got him to speak for you?"

I pissed him off, Antonio thought sheepishly before shrugging. "I don't know. I don't think so?" He hesitated before adding, "I think… I think he's just using the language thing as an excuse to not talk to people." Antonio bit his lip anxiously as soon as the words left his mouth. He wasn't betraying Lovino's trust by saying things like this, right? Antonio was supposed to tell the Dean these things. That was the point of the whole program. So why did he suddenly feel so guilty about saying anything?

"Hmm," the Dean brought his hand to his mouth, the corners of his mouth pulling down in thought. "That is highly likely." The man sighed and said, "Hopefully if he has opened up this much to you, he'll learn to open up more to his teachers and classmates." Antonio refrained from mentioning that even after all the time he'd spent with the Freshmen, he really still felt he had no clue what was going on in the boy's head. Honestly, 'opening up' was the last thing Antonio would have used to describe Lovino's progress. Or lack thereof. "Well," the Dean continued with a small huff, "if anything, it'd be nice to get Lovino to stop writing all his assignments in Italian, so we can at least know he's understanding lessons."

Antonio almost choked on a burst of laughter, barely managing to pass the embarrassing noise as a loud cough. He had to give Lovino credit - at least the boy could be hilarious while being a stubborn brat. "Ah, well, I'll see what I can do," Antonio replied after recovering from his 'coughing' fit.

"Thank you," the Dean smiled and nodded. "Oh, and don't forget, the next Breakfast is tomorrow - we couldn't do it today, the first Monday this month, because of some scheduling conflicts with a sports team who wanted the cafeteria today." Antonio nodded, remembering the email he'd gotten the night before that had said the same thing. "Well, that's all I wanted to discuss with you," the Dean said, picking up his coffee mug again. "Have a good rest of the school day."

Antonio nearly had to drag Lovino into the Middle School cafeteria the next morning, Lovino cursing the entire way in and Antonio shushing him, glancing worriedly at the Dean and councilors in the room, hoping the hadn't heard Lovino's lovely vocabulary. With a loud huff, Lovino gave up his fight and yanked away from Antonio, stomping over to the table in the far back corner - the same one he'd chosen for the first breakfast. With a sigh Antonio followed, snatching an apple off the front table on the way.

"I hate this. I don't want to be here," Lovino scowled angrily as Antonio sat down beside him.

"Why?" Antonio asked. "It's not so bad. It could be fun if you wanted it to be."

Lovino glowered darkly. "No. It's just stupid."

"At least we get free food!" Antonio smiled, biting into his apple.

"Shitty food," Lovino grumbled.

"Aw, c'mon," Antonio frowned around his mouthful of apple. "You're trying to make this not fun. What's so wrong with skipping class and hanging out?"

Lovino snorted. "Putting up with an extra hour of you."

"Hey," Antonio whined. "Not nice."

"I'm not nice," Lovino said as he crossed his arms and looked out the window.

"But hey, really, why don't you like it?" Antonio pressed, knowing he was likely pushing his luck by not dropping the topic.

Lovino let out an aggravated growl. "Because, bastard, I don't like being treated like stupid little kid."

Startled by the Freshmen's response, Antonio didn't reply. He saw Lovino's cheeks redden and instantly felt bad for not noticing Lovino's embarrassment. Of course he would resent being treated like a Middle School student when he most certainly wasn't. Deciding it was best to change topics, he quickly searched for another. "Hey, don't you have a brother in Middle School?"

Lovino's whole body went rigid. "Who told you that, bastard?" he snarled, eyes burning as they glared out the window.

"Um, well," Antonio reeled, taken completely off guard by Lovino's livid response to what he thought was a perfectly innocent question. "I have a good friend who's really involved in the art department who mentioned him."

Antonio could hear Lovino's teeth gritting in his mouth before the boy managed to work out a tense, "oh."

"You…don't like your brother?" Antonio asked carefully, not wanting to be yelled at again, but sensing that this was a topic that shouldn't be easily ignored.

Lovino turned to look at him in disbelief. "What? Of course I like my brother," Lovino said incredulously. "He's fricking perfect. How could I hate him? I love him."

Antonio chewed on the inside of his lip, confused by Lovino's sudden onslaught of words. "So… you're jealous of him?"

Lovino's shoulders tensed, if possible, even more. "No," he spat before his whole body seamed to wilt and he continued tiredly, "I just…I know when I'm beat, okay?"

Antonio frowned and opened his mouth to say something - what, he didn't know. Deny the boy's claims? Encourage him? Ask him why he thought so? But he never got the chance to say anything.

"May I have everyone's attention please," the Dean's voice cut through Antonio's attempted reply. Both he and Lovino looked to where the man was talking into the loudspeaker at the other side of the large room. "I hope you're all having a good breakfast," the Dean said politely. A few enthusiastic kids cheered happily and the man smiled before saying, "Good to hear! Now I'm sure you've all been wondering when you'd get to go on a field trip! Well, we have good news! We have a fun trip planned for next Friday! We'll be taking you all to the Skating Rink in the cities. Sound fun?" A few more happy cheers. "Good! Please pick up a permission slip on this table here on your way out today and have it signed by your parents or guardians to turn in by this Friday! Thank you for your attention, you can go back to your delicious breakfasts!"

"Oh, that'll be fun!" Antonio beamed as the Dean turned off his microphone.

"It sounds awful," Lovino grimaced, looking disgusted. "Why would they take us ice skating when it's not even winter?"

"I think it's a roller skating rink," Antonio replied, still smiling. "I think I've been to it with my friends when I was younger. It was a lot of fun!"

"It's still gunna suck," grumbled Lovino, his cheeks darkening when Antonio ruffled his hair.

"Only if you think it will," Antonio said brightly, already excited about the trip. "But hey, let's get you something to eat," he continued, pulling himself up from the stool connected to the table. "And don't give me that look. At least the fruit's okay."

Lovino glared accusingly at the permission form in his hands as he stood outside the door of his house. Damn field trip for making him go out of his way to talk to his grandpa. Damn program for treating him like a little kid. Damn Antonio for not shutting up about the stupid thing during lunch. Damn everything.

Grumbling a slew of curses under his breath he opened the door and walked in, dropping his backpack roughly on the floor. He was immediately disappointed when Feliciano didn't come running to greet him like he usually did. As he made his way to the kitchen, form in hand he remembered his brother mentioning something before school about staying late to work on an art project. Lovino frowned deeper and leaned against the kitchen counter. Great. That meant he'd have to talk to his grandpa without Feliciano being there to get the old man's attention away from Lovino right afterwards. He briefly considered putting off asking for his grandpa's signature until after Feliciano was back, but begrudgingly admitted to himself that if he did that he'd forget to ask for the signature all together. He groaned at allowed himself the luxury of a quick tomato for a snack before trudging his way to his grandpa's office. He hesitated outside the door, sighed, reminded himself this was inevitable, and knocked on the door.

"You can come in," Lovino heard his grandpa's, Roma's, distracted voice through the door. Breathing one last little sigh, Lovino tightened his grip on the permission form and eased the door open. Roma was sitting at his desk with a calculator and scratching away at his notepad. He didn't even glance over at Lovino before asking, "Is there something you needed, Lovino?"

Even though he'd been disappointed Feliciano wouldn't be there to provide a distraction for his grandpa, Lovino felt a sharp twinge of annoyance at the fact that Roma hadn't even bothered looking away from his work as Lovino walked in. He was certain that if it were Feliciano walking into Roma's office, the man would have put down everything and given his full attention to his 'cute little grandson.'

"Yeah," Lovino answered, barely keeping his annoyance from his voice. "I need you to sign something for me."

Roma sighed and set down his pencil, before turning his swivel chair to face his grandson. "Did you get in trouble?"

"What? No, dammit," Lovino snapped. Of course that would be the first conclusion his grandpa would jump to.

"Watch you language," Roma said, eyes flashing dangerously. "Now, what do you need my signature for?"

"The stupid mentor-mentee thing has a field trip coming up and I need your permission for it," Lovino answered, glowering as he held the paper out to his grandfather.

Roma took the paper from Lovino's hand and read it over quickly before scribbling his name on the bottom and handing it back. "Is that all you needed?"

Lovino just nodded sharply and quickly left the room, closing the door harder than necessary as he left. After stuffing the permission slip back into his backpack, he stomped up the stairs and to his room. He immediately began digging through his belongings for his MP3 player. He hated talking to his grandpa. In some way or another, Roma always managed to work in how Lovino wasn't good enough. Lovino was always wrong, always in trouble, always inadequate. He was never as good as Feliciano. Everyone always thought Feliciano was better. Feliciano was the good one, the likable one. No one ever even liked Lovino. Even Lovino knew Feliciano was better. And that somehow made it worse because he couldn't even blame other people for thinking it too.

Finding his music player, Lovino shoved the ear buds in and dropped heavily back onto his bed. With a sharp pang, he remembered even Antonio bringing up his brother. If the senior had heard about his brother already, then he must already have heard about how amazing he was. Lovino ground his teeth against each other as he turned the MP3 player on and scrolled through his music. Perfect. Just fricking perfect. Yet another person in his life who would undoubtedly fall head over heels for his perfect little brother.

But, Lovino reminded himself as he chose a pretty band from back home in Italy, at least the stupid smiling bastard hadn't actually met his brother yet. Maybe if he could prevent that from happening, it wouldn't be so bad. Yeah, that could work. Feeling slightly reassured, he tried to focus on the soothing sounds of the music. Italian always sounded so much prettier than English. English was too harsh and guttural and sounded too similar to German.

Lovino forced his muscles to relax into his soft bed and centered his attention to the flowing music, allowing himself to sing softly along. The steady hum his vocal chords created in his chest relaxed his body even more. This he could handle. Just this. Just now. If he only focused on this for now he could make himself deal with everything else later.

Because at least the humming vibrations near his lungs were enough to convince the empty feeling that always lingered in his chest to feel whole for a little while.