Chapter 8

"You seem to like that Lovino Vargas." Francis says to me as we walk home.

"Yeah man, what's going on?" Gilbert pipes in.

"Si! I like him." I say in my usual 'happy' tone. Why do they always have to know who I talk to? I mean, they don't care anyway. They never did.

"How do you guys even get along? Lovino is a complete asshole." Gilbert says and I frown.

"No, he really isn't."

"Whatever you say, mon ami." Francis says, "What are you guys doing this weekend?"

"Probably hanging out with Mattie." Gil says, and smiles a bit. Mathew is a shy Canadian boy that people don't really notice. He has a loud and annoying half-American brother named Alfred. Everyone knows him.

"Aw" Francis gushes, and they continue their conversation as if I don't exist. This always happens. It never was like this before though. We were all happy, content with our lives, and then things changed, and I'm still not exactly sure what it was. Around last year, they started becoming distant. They didn't invite me out to hang out as much, they only talked to me when it was a necessity; they really seemed annoyed with me. I wasn't sure if it was because they found out about my home life, or if I was gay. But, why would they reject me? Gilbert likes Mathew, and Francis basically hits on everyone. So, I didn't get it. I've grown used to it. When I'm home, I'm usually ignored anyway and left with my own thoughts so it wasn't that bad. I always pay attention to them even if they don't listen to me when I talk. A few months later, they found out about my self-harming problem; after that, they acted even more distant but it was fine because I am better off alone.

"Antonio?" I hear my name called and realize that I stopped walking. Francis and Gilbert look at me, concern in their eyes. I really wish they would stop doing that.

"Oh! Ahaha sorry, just lost in thought." I laugh a bit too cheerfully, a signal that it was fake.

"Are you alright?" They both ask in unison.

"They don't care about you!" My mind screams, "They are just being polite."

"Yes yes, I'm great." I walk in front of them so they don't see the tears that are threatening to fall.

"Dammit, why are you crying faggot?" my brother said to me.

"W-Why are you doing this, hermano?"

"Don't fucking dare call me your brother. I don't want to be related to a piece of shit."

Thankfully, Francis and Gilbert don't try to catch up with me. The drugstore comes into view across the street and I sigh gratefully.

"Well, I'm going to go to the store," I point across the street, "I'll see you guys after break."

"Okay"

"Adios." I say and practically run across the street. I am so stressed, why the hell do my own friends stress me out? If I could call them my friends.

I walk up to the counter, "Hi. Pack of Marlboro, please" I give my ID.

He hands them to me, and I walk out. I feel a warm figure collide with me as I walk forward.

"Oi, what the fuck?" An Italian accent says and I know exactly who.

"Hola, Lovino"

"Oh, hey bastard." He looks up at me and gives a ghost smile.

"What are you doing here?" I ask.

"I didn't want to stay inside. Want to come over?" Lovino asks.

I shudder, "I don't think I-"

My cheeks suddenly feel wet and I realize that I am crying. Oh. I start scratching at my arms, hoping to make a scar bleed.

"Whoa. Why are you crying?" Lovi asks in a concerned tone.

"N-Nothing, I just really need to get home on time." I say hurriedly, fearing that my father may wake up from his nap soon, and get outraged that I'm not home, making dinner for the family. Family... what does that word even mean? People who just live together?

"Oh. S-Sorry for erm, being in your way."

"You weren't. I really like seeing you Lovi." I say with a blush.

"Shut up, d-dammit."

"Want to hang out tomorrow?"

"Um. S-Sure?"

"Okay. Adios Lovi."