A/N: A Sylvia Plath quote, because I'm feeling sad as hell.


Anasi Boys – Neil Gaiman


"The silence depressed me. It wasn't the silence of silence. It was my own silence." ― Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar


Antonio


"Hey, Toni, wait!"

I froze, almost literally. My insides turned cold and I felt my stomach twist. Leave me alone, leave me alone, leave me alone, please. I balled my fists, stopping in mid-step, and let out a long, shaky breath to ease my panic.

And slowly, hating myself, I turned. "Haha…yes, Ivan?"

Ivan, who'd followed me as soon as class ended, took quick steps up to me, his eyes wide and excited as he waved his tab in the air. He was the only person I'd been able to focus on in class. Everyone had been critiquing Mei's crime story, but I'd completely zoned out. I kept thinking about what would happen if Ivan were to roll up his sleeves, only a little.

I saw Ivan as a scarred person. A person who self-harmed.

I did not see him as a human being.

Not right now, anyway.

He was smiling at me, oblivious to my torment. Scars, scars, scars. Maybe he had a blade with him. Maybe he'd lend one to me. A part of me wanted to scream at him. What are you doing to yourself? Why would you want to hurt yourself? But that was so stupidly hypocritical. Another part of me wanted to say, I know what it's like. Talk to me. Let's help each other. And then there was that vicious, evil part of my mind that wanted to ask, Did you use a knife? Do you have a specific knife, or just an ordinary one for cooking? Where did you get the blades from? Did you break a razor? Can you show me how to do that without wasting too much time?

Instead of saying any of those things, I just swallowed.

"What's up…?"

Ivan thrust his tab at me. "Well, you're so good at mystery stories. Your novel about Isabel and Carlos is amazing. Hey, do you have a title for that yet?"

"Not yet," I replied, my heartbeat slowing considerably as I took the tab from him. Books. Novels. Stories. Safe territory. "And that novel isn't crime fiction..."

"No, but it's got a lot of suspense! I was wondering if you could read through my short story and see if it needs improvement? My critique is tomorrow, and I don't feel confident at all!"

I couldn't comprehend the words on the screen. They were like insects crawling over the white space, their inky bodies blurring together in my mind. I glanced at Ivan. "Do you usually feel confident before critiques?"

"Yes," he said with a mischievous grin. "But that's not the case now. And you're so good. So I was wondering if you could help…? I'd be honoured to get some feedback from you."

My cheeks became warm. "Haha, I'm not that good."

He blinked at me. "You're being modest."

"No, I'm not. I'm not that good, haha. You're way better."

Ivan shrugged like he didn't care. "Thank you. But will you read it?"

I nodded. "And thank you as well. I'm really touched you think I'm good."

"You're welcome!" he took the tab back. "Let me email it to you, so you can read it whenever you're free. Oh, and maybe I could have your number?"

"Oh, sure, sure."

I gave him my number and he gave me his. He tapped the screen of his tab for a few minutes, and then his face split into another seemingly happy smile. "Okay, I've emailed it to you! Be as harsh as you like, all right? It'll only make me better."

I had no plans on being harsh on him. After every one of my critiques, I'd clutch and scratch and cry. And Ivan was much, much worse. He'd cut himself. Burn himself. I couldn't let that happen. My conscience wouldn't allow it. Besides, I probably wouldn't have anything valuable to say. When it came to writing, Ivan was in a league of his own.

When I got to the dining area, Lovi was sitting there with his sketchbook out in front of him, a geometry box, a lot of pencils, and a resolute frown on his face. Madeline was hovering over his shoulder, pointing at something on the paper in front of him.

"Hi, Lovi!" I said, feeling myself loosen up. I bent down and kissed him on the temple, making him go brilliantly red. Maddie was smiling at us.

"Don't embarrass me in public, dammit," Lovi muttered in greeting as I slid next to him.

"What's all this?" He never usually drew things. But now, there was clearly a village landscape in the making covering the white page of his sketchbook.

"My worst nightmare," he muttered dramatically, and Madeline rolled her eyes.

"We had to sketch something today, not paint. And Lovino sucked. Really badly. I'm trying to help him right now, because Professor Adnan made him redo the assignment."

"I didn't come here to draw, dammit!" Lovi argued.

"It's part of it, Lovino. Honestly!"

"And the geometry box…?" I asked.

"That's just because he can't draw a straight line."

"I can!"

"Then why did you need to use your geometry box?"

"Because my hand slipped, dammit!" He glared ferociously at the sketchbook. "Fuck this, seriously."

"You're giving up?" Maddie said, her voice coated with judgement.

"No! I'm going to show that Sadik bastard that I'm perfectly good at sketching! Fuck him! Fuck this!"

"I heard that," Sadik Adnan said coolly as he walked past us, typing on his phone as he did.

The three of us watched him go. All of us wore various expressions of shock. Maddie looked mortified, because a teacher had overheard Lovino swear at him. Lovi looked furious. The pencil he was holding snapped. And I was just staring at both of them, alternating with watching Professor Adnan's form walking away nonchalantly.

"Uh…" I said slowly. "I'm going to go get something to eat."

"Could you get me one of those lemon tarts?" Maddie asked, her skin going back to its usual paleness.

"Sure. Lovi, do you want something?"

"I want to show that Sadik bastard who's boss."

"Something edible?"

"No."

"Haha, okay. I'll be right back!"


Lovino


Antonio sighed very loudly as he sat on the sofa. It was dark and raining outside, as always, and I was trying to fight off sleep. I couldn't fucking function after I'd eaten dinner, I swear. The apartment was silent; both of us were working. He sat with his feet on the couch, staring at his laptop, and I was putting the finishing touches to my sketch.

"What?" I asked him as I erased a stray pencil mark from the corner of the page.

He didn't answer for a long minute, and then finally said, "This story Ivan asked me to read."

"Yeah?"

"He's a prodigy, Lovi, I swear."

I looked up now, regarding Antonio seriously. He was backing me, so I could only see his shoulders and the mop of his brown hair standing out against the light from the laptop. "You talk as though prodigies pop up from the fucking ground like daisies."

He laughed a little. "No, really. Have a look at this."

I sighed, pushing my chair back and going up to where Antonio was. Taking the laptop from him, I sat on the other end of the couch, putting my feet up. Antonio tickled me with his toes until I gave him a poisonous glare. That, naturally, reduced him to a series of mischievous giggles.

"Do you want me to read this shit or not?" I muttered.

"Okay, okay, sorry, Lovinito."

"Yeah, what the fuck ever." I scrolled up to the top of the four page story.

Well.

Holy fucking shit.

I read it in five minutes flat. My hair was on end. I was feeling chills. My heart was beating out of my fucking body. And there was sweat on my brow.

I glanced up at Antonio, who was nodding at me. "I told you," he almost shouted. "I told you!"

"What the hell is wrong with him?" I asked, noticing how soft and shaky my voice had become. "Is he…depressed?"

Antonio's eyes became narrow. It was an odd expression on him. As though he was just daring me to continue. "Depressed? No. Why should he be depressed? He's my friend. I'd know if he was depressed."

I stared at him. "Is he?"

"No," Antonio said resolutely. "He's just really talented."

"You were supposed to give him feedback, right? What are you going to say?"

Antonio ran a hand through his hair. "No clue."


Antonio


Antonio: I read your story.

Ivan: Oh! What do you think? It needs improvement, right?

Antonio: No! It's wonderful! You give me a complex, haha.

Ivan: Oh, really? That's so sweet, thank you :) Although you're a much better writer, Toni.

Ivan: Your stories move me. It's like you're speaking to me through your stories. You appeal to my soul.

Antonio: …Um, thank you :)

Antonio: I'd say something as nice about you, but honestly, I have no words.

Antonio: You are superb. You WILL be a bestselling novelist one day.

Ivan: Hmm. We'll see about that :)

Ivan: My money is on you.

Ivan: You will change the world with what you write. And I'm not just saying that.

Antonio: Ay. I don't know how to respond.

Ivan: Haha, should I change the subject?

Antonio: SI! :P

Ivan: Okay :3

Ivan: Ooh, I've made some vatrushka! I'm going to bring some for everybody tomorrow.

Antonio: What's vatrushka?

Ivan: It's like a cake. With a ring of dough and cottage cheese in the middle. And it has raisins and fruit. It's yummy!

Antonio: Ooh, delicioso! Can't wait to try it :D

Ivan: Yay :3

Ivan: Well, I'm going to bed now. See you!

Antonio: Good night :)


I woke up feeling oddly happy. Weird, because I'd actually fallen asleep on my bed, without Lovi next to me. We hadn't slept together like we usually did. But still. I felt pleased. It was about seven in the morning, and I yawned, pushing myself upright. This felt good. I felt good.

Of course, Lovi was awake and drinking his coffee after his run and shower. He had his nose in a book – again unsurprising – and was completely engrossed in it. From this angle, he was backing me. I grinned to myself.

I crept up behind him and suddenly pounced.

"Loooooovi, good morning!" I threw my hands around him (he cried out in surprise) and kissed his cheek. "Watcha reading?"

"Dammit to hell!" he yelped, turning around sharply with his adorable red cheeks. "Go brush your teeth, idiot."

I laughed. "Yes, yes. I just saw you and I felt so happy."

He smiled. Not very much, but still. The corner of his lips quirked upwards just a little, and I could tell he was pleased. "What the fuck ever," he muttered, pretending not to care as he turned back to his book. "Go brush."

When I freshened up, Lovi had already made my coffee for me. It was sitting on the table with a coaster under it and a cover on top, with him still reading.

"Gracias, Lovi!"

"Yeah. Cool."

"What book is that?" I asked again.

He sighed loudly, finally closing it and looking at me. "I'm not going to be able to focus on anything now, am I?"

"Aw, because you're so enraptured by my obvious Spanish charm?"

He snorted. "No, it's because you're as talkative as a parrot, dammit. And to answer your question, it's Catch-22."

"Oh!"

"I couldn't get through it the first time."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Or the second time. Or the third time. I'm finding it very hard to get through even now."

"Haha, wow," I said with a small grin, taking a sip. "I'm surprised."

He raised an eyebrow. "What the fuck is so surprising?"

"You. You're finding it hard to get through an iconic book. It's odd. You're usually such a book snob!"

"I am not!"

"Yes, you are." I laughed. "You said it yourself. We're both a pair of pretentious people, drinking cheap wine, quoting the Greats, and making out on a blanket with a pack of cards spread out under us and rain pouring outside."

He turned violently red and looked away. I snickered.

"You seem to be in a good mood," he muttered.

"I'm always in a good mood!"

Lovino's expression changed for a fraction of a second, too quick for me to recognise a tangible emotion on his face, before going back to his usual scowl. "What are your plans for the day?"

"Class. And then maybe we can go out! I bored of the same movies and restaurants, though…"

"Me too," he muttered. "We'll figure it out. I'll look online."

"Yay!"


Without Ivan, there was a gaping hole in the class. But it had been ten minutes, and he hadn't yet shown up. He'd promised to get that vatrushka stuff, right? And we'd scheduled his critique today. Where was he?

Somehow, I knew.

Emma looked torn between irritation and worry. "It's not like him to just disappear like that. Mei, did he answer his phone?"

Mei shook her head. "Maybe he's sick? I mean, temperatures are falling. Maybe he has a cold."

"Someone should check on him," Arthur said softly.

"I'll go." I blurted out the words without even thinking about them. Ivan was my friend, but he also triggered me like nothing else could. I was having too good a day to want to hurt myself. Could I not have one day of happiness? Just one?

But…

I just knew.

I stood slowly. "I'll check on him and let you know."

"All right, Antonio," Emma said. "But hurry. If you're not back here in fifteen minutes, I'm going to start."

That didn't really bother me. Each class was for three hours anyway. Emma checked the roster and found me Ivan's room number.

His room was down a quieter corridor, where the temperature seemed to drop still further, and a natural gloom hung in the air. It was Room 126. I knocked on the door, and then pressed the bell. "Ivan? It's me, Toni." There was no response, and I wasn't even surprised. "Ivan, come on. Everyone's asking about you."

After five minutes of persistent knocking and bell-ringing, the door parted slowly, and Ivan's head peeked out from behind it. As expected, he looked terrible. Pale, sick, with dark lines under his eyes. The bright pink of his lips seemed to stand out against his skin. He looked like a corpse.

"Hey, Toni…" he said in a small, tired voice. "Sorry. I'm not feeling very well right now. Can you come back later?"

I sighed. "I know, I know. I'm here to help. Let me in?" We looked right at each other. His mind was working very, very slowly, I could see that. Things were not computing as well as they should have, so when Ivan gave me a once-over with his blue eyes – that looked oddly purple in the right sort of lighting – I gave him a gentle smile and nodded.

"Okay…" he said, his voice even softer. He pulled the door back and stepped aside for me to enter.

His apartment was neat. Not spotless, like Gilbert's bedroom, but not messy. It looked comfortable and lived in. Ivan was wearing a loose black shirt (long sleeved, of course), and tracks, his customary scarf around his neck as usual. His laptop was on the coffee table, along with a pile of books, a notepad, and a fancy-looking navy blue clicking pen. There was a small plant by the window, a shoe and coat-rack behind the door, and his kitchenette was swept and shiny.

Now that I could see him properly, he looked even worse. And he kept rubbing his arms awkwardly. This was an invasion of his space, an invasion of the secrets in his mind. I pretended not to notice that he was clearly depressed, and had probably been cutting himself just minutes before I'd arrived.

"I had my critique today," he said sadly, lowering my eyes. "But I can't...handle it right now."

"Aw, that's okay. A cold can do that to you."

He looked at me. There was a very complex expression on his face, and he slowly said, "Da, colds are so bad."

"Why don't you lie down?" I asked him. "I'll make you something to eat."

"I'm not hungry…"

"A little bit of soup, come on." I set my bag down on the dining table, unzipped it, and pulled out a bottle of Gatorade. I always kept those with me. "Here, drink this. It'll keep your energy up."

He took it from me in slow, languid gestures and read the bottle's wrapper. "Why?"

"It helps me when I'm dep—sick," I quickly corrected. Being around Ivan was stressful. He made me want to hurt myself. But right now, I also wanted to take care of him. There was nothing worse than having to deal with an episode of depression alone, and more often than not, that's what most people ended up doing. I took a soft inhale. "Why don't you lie down on the couch?" So that I can see you at all times and make sure you're not doing anything stupid.

"Why do you have Gatorade in your bag?" he asked me, looking at me with mild, tired suspicion.

Crap.

I chuckled awkwardly. "I have really low immunity, especially in this sort of climate."

"Oh," he said simply, uncapping the bottle. "Are you sure you don't mind, then?"

"Drink away. It'll help. And go lie down on the couch."

"I'm going to my room…"

"Couch, Ivan," I said slowly, adding a smidgen of bite to my tone. Forcing a smile, I added, "I'll make you some tomato soup. And don't worry, let me just text Mei saying you have a cold."

"Couch," he repeated slowly, too tired to really argue. He ambled over and practically fell on it, closing his eyes and throwing an arm over his face. Meanwhile, I texted Mei, and then began opening cupboards. Tomatoes, tomatoes, oh, there.

I took out two, found a chopping board, switched on the electric kettle, and started cooking.

"There's vatruskha in the fridge, if you want," he said softly.

"Oh, cool. Are you drinking the Gatorade?" I asked without turning around.

"Da," he answered softly, and I heard him take a sip.

"Does your flatmate know you're sick?"

"I don't have a flatmate," he replied simply.

I turned. "Huh?"

He blinked, propping himself up against the couch cushions so he could see me better. "Eduard von Bock? Do you know him?"

"Uh…si, I know of him. He's Lovi – Lovino's classmate."

"He was my flatmate, but I don't think he liked me very much, because he requested a change in the first week…"

Oh. That couldn't help any self-esteem issues at all.

"But it's okay," Ivan continued, managing a small smile. "I like having my privacy. I can do whatever I want, and nobody asks questions."

"Um, yeah," I muttered. He was right, too. Without Lovi being there all the time, I probably would have cut myself ages ago. I wouldn't have had the strength to resist. I was still struggling, and I could actually feel myself giving in just a little bit every day. Of course, he wasn't talking about that. I knew what he meant. That there was nobody to stop him.

I turned back to the soup, and neither of us spoke for a while. Did Ivan suspect anything about me? What was going on in class right now? I'd informed Mei to tell Emma that I was taking care of Ivan, that he was really feeling under the weather, so I didn't have to worry about class.

I expected to find a bunch of blades every time I opened a drawer or cabinet. But there were only normal things. Spoons, plates, utensils. I did find three boxes of matches, though. Those burn marks on his skin…I just stared at the matches for several seconds before putting them back where I found them. I felt like he was watching me, but every time I sneaked a glance, he was always lying on that couch with his eyes closed. It was extremely unnerving.

"Soup's ready!" I said, infusing my voice with as much cheer as I could. "Should I take the vatrushka out?"

"Yes," he responded quietly, forcing himself upright. I felt his eyes follow me as I took out some small dough-like cakes from the fridge. They looked like Danish pastries.

I found bowls and plates, gave him small helpings, and brought it to him. "Here you go."

"Aren't you having any?"

"I am," I assured him, taking my own bowl of soup. "I'm not sure if you like tomatoes, haha. But if you ask me, tomato soup can fix anything."

Ivan smiled weakly at me before taking a spoonful. "It's really good."

"Aw, thanks!"

We ate in silence. Well, I ate. Ivan just spooned the soup a bit, taking small, occasional sips just to keep me happy. He ate the vatruskha a lot more willingly, although he still left more than half of it. To make conversation, I glanced around. My eyes finally found that pretty blue clicking pen on the table between us.

"That's a nice pen."

"Oh? Thank you. It was a birthday present." He smiled slightly at it. "Emil liked it a lot too." Ivan looked next at the small potted plant. "And Arthur would like that, don't you think? Remember he once mentioned he liked gardening?"

"I don't really care much for Arthur, to be honest," I muttered, looking down at my bowl of soup.

Ivan chuckled. "I know. Everyone knows. It's funny."

"Why is it funny?"

"Because if the two of you ever wrote a book together, it would become a modern classic. I feel like your styles will gel perfectly. Everything you write is so impassioned, and everything Arthur writes is dry but electric." But he shook his head with a small laugh. "I get the rivalry, though. Both of you are so good."

"Ha," I muttered, sulking.

"And Mei's always liked this scarf," Ivan went on, brushing it lightly with his fingertips. "She said it was very soft. It is, of course."

I glanced up now. "And what about Emma?" I questioned.

"Vatrushka," he said with a sneaky smile. "I might just give her my secret recipe."

"Well, it's delicious!" I said with a laugh, taking a large bite to prove it. It really was quite good. Even Lovi and Francis would have liked it…

"Thank you, Toni," he said with a smile. "And you…"

"Me?"

"You're a tricky one. Maybe you could have my coat. Because your cold tolerance makes me laugh," he added with a grin.

I frowned slightly. This conversation was becoming a little weird. "Why do you want to give your things away?"

He shook his head. "Christmas. I usually give people personal gifts on Christmas. I like to decide what to give them beforehand."

"Oh! Wow, that's so nice!"

He smiled once more. "Thank you, I think so too."

"But you really don't have to give me your big coat. I know how much you like it."

"Haha, somehow I don't think that's right for you, anyway. It wouldn't suit you, to begin with. I'll give it a bit of thought."

I sighed happily, leaning against the back of my chair. "I'm so bad at buying gifts. I think I'll do what you're doing."

For a split second, I thought I saw Ivan's eyes flash. Not with anger, but something else. Something gentler. I couldn't put my finger on it. It happened so quickly that I thought I almost imagined it.

"You should give everyone your tomato soup. It's nice and hot, it's personalised, and it's so yummy! You should give it to them in little cans. And sit there with them while they eat it, and chat. That would be really special. Memorable and unique."

"Thank you, Ivan! Haha, if I can't think of anything else, I'll do that."

Ivan managed to finish a bit more soup and vatrushka, which he washed down with some Gatorade. I took the plate from him, and when I turned, he was standing up. He said, "Toni, thank you so much for taking care of me. I feel much better."

He looked a little better too. Lighter. Less corpse-like.

"Aw, no problem. Are you going to sleep now?"

He nodded. "I think you should go, too."

I stared. He was going to cut again. If left alone, that was exactly what he would do. I could see it in his eyes. Hell, if roles were reversed, I'd probably be doing the same exact thing. "But —"

"I'm going to go to bed," Ivan said slowly, "And I think you should get to class now. There's still an hour and a half left to go, right?" Was I imagining it, or was there really a hint of menace in his voice?

Oh no. It was happening. I could feel it. Slowly, slowly. It would take time. But I had to get the hell out of here. Ivan's bout of depression was like a cold: contagious. How was that even possible? I had to get out of this environment. Away from his matchboxes and knives and blades.

"Yes," I said softly. "See you tomorrow?"

"Yes. Thank you so much, Toni."

"No problem. See you!"

I took my bag and dashed out of there as fast as I could. I didn't go back to class, though. I went straight to the apartment, threw myself onto the couch and closed my eyes. My ears were ringing. I was painting for oxygen. There was a slow buzz in my brain, and for some reason, I could feel a headache coming on. Great. Depressed and a migraine.

So much for my 'happy' day.


Lovino


The dipshit was nowhere to be found. He wasn't answering his texts, and he wasn't with Ivan, although Arthur told me Antonio had gone to check on him. But when I got back to the flat, I turned the doorknob easily, so it wasn't locked. Antonio was here, then.

He was passed out on the couch, beads of sweat rolling down his temples. I placed a hand on his forehead, and he groaned. "Lovi…don't…migraine…awh crap."

I sighed softly to myself, dimmed the lights, and draped a blanket over him. "You owe me a date, bastard."


A/N: Sometimes when I'm stressed out, I get migraines. And I would rather eat a wad of wet tissue paper than get a migraine. They're such freaking nightmares. I'm sorry if there were any glaring typos. I wasn't exactly concentrating fully while writing this.

Anyway, I hope you liked it. Thanks for reading! Please review :)