~Giallo~

A man who drinks too much on occasion is still the same man as he was sober. An alcoholic, a re al alcoholic, is not the same man at all. You can't predict anything about him for sure except that he will be someone you never met before.

- Raymond Chandler

Sip. Sip. Sip. Every little sip stole his senses and burned his throat. Bitter, fruity, and red. Sip by sip and he was no longer the same.

He did not mean to; it hadn't really been something he had wanted to do. Or at least, he attempted to convince himself that he was not at fault and that this was something he had been pushed to do. Yet, still, sip after sip and he was not Antonio anymore.

He was someone else, someone bitter and lost with no trace of a once strong pride. There was no strength, no fight, no will to carry on. No. He was not himself. He didn't know who he was.

You're still drinking?

Sip. Sip.

Why? You never know when to stop.

Sip. Sip.

Do you drink to fill a pathetic hole in your heart?

The bottle fell to the floor.

He could feel those hands grabbing him, screaming the question in his ears. He could feel the blood trailing the back of his neck. No! He drank because he could! Was that so bad? He had no problem! He was fine! He screamed it in his head, pulling violently at his hair as he tried to pull the infuriating thoughts out.

Antonio didn't want this.

He didn't like this.

This wasn't fair.

"I'm fine!" he screamed to the empty room. Tears streamed down his face and as the silence returned, he could feel a terrible chill.

Then why are you like this now? What if Lovino saw you like this?

Antonio threw the bottle at the wall.

The fear that set in him at the moment was like no other. He simply stared at the red-stained wall and wondered how long that had been there. Had it had always been there and he simply had not noticed? It had to be. Antonio would never do something stupid like that—he didn't have wine either—so it could not have been him.

But, he would have noticed. A stain like that and the cracks next to it were ones that could not simply be ignored. It was not plausible. It was absurd to think about. No. Not Antonio.

His blood rushed and he could not hear. His vision went blurry but there were no tears that came. The world wobbled and became distorted before him.

No, that wasn't from Antonio. He trusted Antonio. He knew how he felt about the situation and would not dare drink behind his back. Would he? No! He refused to be suspicious of him. He refused to assume things that would lead to actions and emotions that he knew he would not be able to handle well.

So he ignored his suspicions. He ignored what his mind yelled to him so clearly and walked to the kitchen where soft music was playing and his Antonio had been calling out to him from.

"Lovino, hurry! My meal is going to get cold!"

He shook his head and walked into the kitchen, eyes widening at how lovely it looked decorated with candles and rose petals on the table, surrounding a covered platter.

Now he was intrigued.

Whatever worry had been floating in his mind immediately vanished and he focused only on him. Taking careful steps forward, Lovino bit back a smile as he sat down, his face burning with the color of all the flags that surrounded him and the stain on the wall.

"Oh, you cook now?" Lovino rose his brow.

"Perhaps," Antonio cooed, "I made this especially for you, I worked very hard on it,so don't judge me."

Lovino scoffed and poured himself some juice, "Antonio, if you work hard on cooking something, I'm not gonna be a complete jack-are those fried dino nuggets?"

Antonio only beamed with the plate revealed. Wiggling his brows, he sat himself down, sitting up tall.

"Maybe"

"Why the fuck am I dating you?"

"Because I'm wonderful and come up with the best fried dino nuggets for a romantic dinner," Antonio said.

Lovino covered his face, bursting into laughter that he muffled. Shaking his head, he took one of the nuggets and inspected it before dropping it on his plate and covering his face once more, laughter choking out of him.

"You're such an idiot, Anto," he said breathlessly, "The biggest idiot I have ever met. Oh my gosh. You make dinosaur nuggets for a romantic dinner. I'm going to choke you."

Antonio laughed, snorting in between, "Oh come on, give me some credit! It takes a lot to fry nuggets!"

As if he would do that. That would be doing far too much for this dweeb.

Instead, Lovino simply planted a kiss on his cheek. Antonio laughed and his breath burned Lovino's nostrils and broke his heart. This man was his light in the dark and his sweet words that warmed his cheeks on the coldest of days. Even now, as the mid-winter weather hit and things were icy cold, he knew that he could depend on Antonio.

At least, he hoped that he could.

"Let's eat, you idiot." Lovino said, popping one of the disgusting things into his mouth. He squeezed Antonio's hand and held the nugget to his lips, "Open up loser, I have food for you."

Antonio chomped down on the nugget causing Lovino to smack him out of impulse. Both just remained silent before laughing harder. It was ridiculous the way that they worked, the way that Antonio and Lovino managed to click. The two didn't even eat, they took a bite from two nuggets and then started to throw them at each other, snorting and giggling and making a mess of the place. Antonio even nearly knocked over a candle.

"You're gonna start a fire, stupid!"

"But all great romances end in fires or death, mi vida!"

"Yeah, well fuck Shakespeare, I want to live, dumb fuck."

They landed on the couch, kissing, hugging each other, and the music still playing softly in the background of the house they destroyed.

He loved him. He trusted him. His Antonio.

He wouldn't hurt him.

"We didn't eat our chicken nuggets."

No. That stain, whatever it was, it wasn't him. How could that ever be his Antonio?

"Fuck the chicken nuggets."

Lovino pulled Antonio down for another kiss.

He was itchy. He was so terribly itchy and he hated it. Antonio scratched at his arms while Los Panchos played in the background. Oh god, why was he so itchy? This wasn't good and he couldn't stop. His paints were drying in front of him and his stupid stool kept making an awful sound as it scratched against the wooden floor, but Antonio was itchy and he couldn't stop twitching, regardless if he was scratching or not.

It was the cold. Or at least, that was what he told himself after long since giving up on attempting to prepare for his finals. His plans to get all of those things out of the way so that he could actually do his finals and relax for winter break had quickly diminished. Rather than prepare, he sat in his bed, digging his nails into his skin, needing the stinging to punish himself.

Bad Antonio, I told you this would happen.

One more drink Antonio, you deserve it.

The more he attempted to ignore the pesky voice in his head, the worse his itching got.

He didn't think of it as too bad. It was normal and it happened and he just needed some time away from people.

That became an issue too.

Antonio's afternoon became a week of not contacting Lovino, then a week became two. The itching became screaming and cursing and even throwing things for small reasons like stubbing his toe. He didn't know what was with him and it didn't help when Lovino showed up unexpectedly.

"Is there a reason you've been ignoring me?"

"I just forgot."

"You forgot we had a date, that we meet for coffee every morning before school and to answer me?"

Antonio didn't want to deal with it. He huffed and rolled over on the couch, covering himself in his blanket. He could barely talk to him, let alone finish his projects that were walking a thin line towards failure.

"Anto, you're a mess, please talk to me. I'm really worried about you right now. You look like shit," Lovino sat down next to him and reached to touch his arm. He pulled it back when Antonio flinched.

"I'm fine," he said flatly.

"You're not-"

"I said I'm fine!" Antonio slammed his fist down.

The room was silent for a while after that. Lovino moved a bit away from him.

What on Earth was he doing? Antonio slapped his face and sighed, "Lovi-"

"No, you're obviously not in the mood to talk right now and frankly, I prefer being ignored than getting into a fight with you. So, call me when you're calm or whatever."

"Lovino, please, listen-"

"So you can yell at me more?"

"No, I just-"

Lovino pushed himself off of the couch and Antonio stood up to go after him. This wasn't how he planned to talk to him after everything.

"I'm gonna go. You obviously aren't ready to talk about things right now and I don't want to push it and fight with you."

Antonio tripped, he didn't know if Lovino was kneeling or standing or what, but he didn't care very much really. "I won't yell. Please, don't go."

He felt Lovino's hand on his cheek and leaned into it.

"You gotta tell me what's going on in that thick head, you know," Lovino pushed Antonio's hair back, kissing the top of his head, "I don't want something going on to make us fight."

He didn't want that either. Yet, he just felt worse and worse. Antonio was aware of his attitude and how it was going to affect those around him, yet he couldn't stop himself from snapping and cracking. Did that make him a bad person?

"Is it okay if I don't want to talk about it?"

"Duh," Lovino laughed a bit, combing his fingers through Antonio's hair, "All you need to say is that you're upset and don't wanna talk about it and I won't push it. But yelling at me or snapping at me makes me angry too and then I don't want to be around you at all. Don't yell at me; that's all I ask if you're sad or angry."

"I'm upset and I don't wanna talk about it."

"And that's fine. Anything I can do?"

Antonio started shaking. He was so pathetic, so weak. He crumbled at a simple question. He startled sniffling, clutching his arms tight. He could barely find it in him to look up at Lovino for a couple of seconds before he broke down into a fit of sobs. Holding on tight to Lovino, he muttered in Spanish, praying for him to stay, apologizing, and feeling his guilt roll off his shoulders.

He had no idea why the question affected him the way it did, but he couldn't do a thing to really control himself or his emotions. Antonio was far from slightly cracked; by now he was shattered completely. His entire body was thrown over Lovino who stared at him in horror and concern.

"I'm sorry, I'm so so sorry," he cried, holding onto him.

He wanted to tell him everything that he had done. He wanted to tell him about the alcohol hidden away in his house and the drinks he had even when he was long past drunk and stable. Antonio wanted to tell him about the fights and the anger and the way that everything hurt. He especially wanted to tell him about how everything hurt. How he felt so good at first—so free—only to want to tear his skin off piece by piece in the middle of the night. He wanted to tell him how good it felt at first when he stopped, how he always knew he could stop, but how he wanted nothing more than to down in all of the liquor that he hid from him, Gilbert, and Francis.

But he couldn't bring himself to hurt his friends or Lovino like that. Admitting everything that he had done meant ruining the way things were.

"Hey, it's okay. I'm right here."

Things were fine. This was a one-time thing. He wouldn't let it happen again. He would talk to Lovino and they wouldn't ever have to fight. Things were perfect like this. They would get through everything the world tossed at them together. Antonio needed nobody else but Lovino, Gilbert, and Francis in his life.

"I'll stay the night if you need."

Antonio was burning. Every part of him was ablaze. He knew it too. There wasn't any way he could lie to himself about the way that his heart felt hot and his skin felt like it was turning to ash. Yet he told himself that this was perfect.

It had to be perfect.

Everything was perfect with Lovino; the thought of something being otherwise was absurd. In a world of greys and cracks from constant weathering, Lovino held him together. If someone so wonderful existed and chose him out of all the people in the world, then he didn't need help. For a world filled with so much love could not have possibly been anything but flawless.

Nothing needed to change.

Antonio could feel the tears pouring down and falling on him. He could hear Lovino's quiet prayers in between his weeps and he could feel his miserable shaking. Nothing about this was okay. Deep down, even he knew that. But he wouldn't accept it nor would he admit it. That meant that change was needed and Antonio was not ready to change.

Change meant risks and he had no courage to face it.

After a while, they both managed to relax. Lovino fell asleep on him and though Antonio was still shaking from everything, he relaxed enough. Yet, it was not nearly enough to leave him at peace. He biting down on his lip, praying in his head to God. He didn't have an idea what he was praying for at all.

His phone buzzed; he stiffened up. The message read aloud and he thanked the Lord that Lovino was asleep. He held him tight and pressed his nose to Lovino's head.

[NEW MESSAGE FROM: UNKNOWN] 'You still live in the old house?'

His entire body shook and had he been holding Lovino any tighter, he might have broken the poor man's bones.

His phone buzzed again and the tears streamed down his face. The itching began again as his phone read the message. It burned his skin in its violent protest. Antonio bit down on his lip, drawing blood eventually. The itching continued and continued, but he let it burn him terribly. The last thing that he would do was allow himself to fall victim to his habits. At least that was what he told himself as his phone kept buzzing and the messages kept reading.

[MESSAGE SENT] 'Francis, I have an emergency.'

"Okay, where do you want to travel in the world that you've never been?"

Antonio lifted his coffee mug to his lips, "Holland. Or Greece."

"Holland is nice. Been to Greece though, my mom was born there. I want to go to Israel."

Antonio shaped the clay he was working with, "Greece would be nice. I have such a faint image of the Greek statues in my head from when I was a kid. Ugh, I would love to be able to know how beautiful all the statues in the world are. I never did get a chance to look too deep into Mesopotamian things. A shame."

Lovino put his hand on Antonio's shoulder before laying his head on it, "One day we'll buy all the statues in the world."

Antonio laughed and kissed Lovino's forehead, "Where will we put them all?"

"We can figure something out."

Antonio held Lovino's hand tight, lifting it to his lips to give it a firm kiss. Of course, it didn't go as romantically as planned considering that he had covered Lovino's hand in clay residue and that was on his lips now. Lovino didn't seem to care though. In fact, he pulled Antonio in for a kiss.

"Bleh, clay tastes yucky," he pushed himself away from Antonio.

He couldn't help but snort and wipe the clay from his mouth. He offered a napkin to his boyfriend, "I could have told you that. Real life isn't as easy to get away with messy kisses. They usually end up badly."

"Wow," Lovino scoffed, "Guess I'll have to sue every movie ever for making me think that this would be cute."

They both laughed and Antonio hardly felt his itch anymore. His anxieties had calmed down and he had caught up on his work over the past few days. Though he was still struggling a bit, he was fine. Francis had not answered his texts which was fair. He was always travelling and he picked such terrible phone companies that did not keep up with the traveling he did. Still, he felt lonely and he wanted to talk to him. This wasn't something he could tell Lovino. Never. He would never need to know about this. As for Gilbert, he was a wonderful friend, but he wasn't always the best to talk to about such troubles. Thus, Antonio found himself in a pit. His options were either to wait for Francis to come or tell Lovino or Gilbert and risk feeling worse than ever from the consequences.

He knew Gilbert and Francis would blame themselves. He knew that they would drag themselves for influencing him and not checking sooner. He knew this all and frankly should not have spoken to them about any of the struggles in his life. But somehow, Francis was easier to talk to about these issues than Gilbert was and it affected what he told Francis. He was the first that Antonio came out to. He was the first that he called to for help. Though that had been years ago. Nowadays, Antonio felt like it was the first few months of being blind all over again where he convinced himself that his life was over.

"We'll sue them together and get rich."

"Student Debt BeGone!" Lovino snorted, leaning on Antonio's shoulder and kissing his jaw.

Antonio chuckled and nodded, "Sounds perfect."

He didn't understand what it was drawing him back. He was fine. Yes, people often jumped to assume he was incapable of basic things, but he had not thought about any of this up until recently. Suddenly everything became a reason to scream and throw things across the room. The slightest screw up lead to shouting at God at two in the morning and demanding He tell him why He hated him so.

Sometimes he wondered if God was there at all.

He felt so beaten and worn down. He felt stupid and is if he were treating himself the same way he demanded others never treat him. He was degrading himself and repressing himself. But just like the wine he let slip down his throat and the late night scratches he defended as minor, he couldn't stop what he knew was wrong.

His fingers messed with the clay, each detail being cared for gently. This could have been a soothing experience—working on something with his boyfriend by his side waiting for the dinner that they made together (sorta) cooked—but instead it felt like everything but.

"I'm going to go check on dinner." Lovino kissed his cheek, "I'll call you down when it's ready."

"Alright!" he said.

Lovino…

Lovino…

He didn't deserve him.

He would only hurt him.

Antonio could feel the way he was growing tired as school continued; his dirty habits would only wear him down to the bone. His recent low would only drag him down and hurt him. Yet, he was so unbelievably selfish and he couldn't let go.

"Dinner is ready!" Lovino called from downstairs.

Antonio stopped messing with his statue and stood up to go wash his hands. He scrubbed and he scrubbed, wanting to wash away his sins. He wanted to wash away the guilt, but it lingered there despite his most desperate attempts.

Was this all really that bad?

Yeah, he was struggling, but it was just a low spot. Surely he'd be better soon.

Yes. He would be fine.

Antonio dried his hands off and made his way out.

"Antonio!"

"On my way down, I was just washing my hands!" he shouted.

What on Earth was he thinking? He had a boyfriend whose heart would break if he found out what was going on in his head or that he had been drinking far more than he should have. He couldn't possibly think of telling him the truth when life was so good.

Being around Lovino was like stepping into the gates of Heaven. There was no judgment and all felt light. There was a warmth that constantly wrapped around him. Every soft kiss filled him with a million butterflies and he felt so absolutely secure in his touch. Lovino was like a crisp ocean wave. Everything that he was encompassed a beauty so strong it surpassed everything that Antonio beat himself for.

He was honest. He didn't hide a single thing from him. When the nights came where he called because he felt like a child in front of abusive parents again or when he needed help in one of the last steps of the grieving process. Lovino—he was the definition of perfection to him.

How could Antonio imagine hurting him? Lovino didn't deserve it. He supported him and loved him. They had moments together that were wonderful.

Even now. Sloppy attempts to be romantic and their failures that did nothing but bring a smile to Antonio's face and a light in his grey days.

'Forgive me' he thought as he walked down the stairs.

'Forgive me for what I will do to you.' he begged as the soft music in the background faded away.

'Forgive me, darling; I don't want to hurt you.'

But he knew.

"There you are, dweeb. Food's on the table already."

Antonio beamed, "And it smells wonderful."

"Of course it does, I made it after all."

If he drowned, he would drag Lovino with him.

"Why do you care? Why? You've never cared before, so why now?"

"You're setting yourself up for failure! You think that this'll last and I blame all those teachers a yours that set you up in some sorta fantasy world where you aren't any different than 'eryone else!"

"Because I'm not dying! I am blind; not dying! I can do what I want with my life, why does this have to be an argument with you?"
"You need sight!"

"No I fucking don't!"

"..."

"Sight doesn't mean shit, this isn't driving! Painting is MY escape and you don't get to take that away from me! It lets me tell stories and break the boundaries people put for me. I may be blind, but that doesn't mean my life has to end just because of you can't get it through your head that I can live my life how I want! You've never been there for me, not even when I had sight. Why do you suddenly care now about what I'm doing with my life? You may be my father, but you were never my dad. This is my choice. You don't get a say in it."

"Fine, but when you fail and realize I was right, don't start crying to 'eryone and blaming it on me because you think you had daddy issues. I'm not taking a part in your stupid fantasies."

"Good. I never asked you to do anything for me. But right now I will ask of one thing; get out of my life."

"Fine. But don't come crying-"

"I won't. Get out."

[NEW MESSAGE FROM: Francey Pants] 'You said that you had an emergency? Please tell me I'm not too late and that you didn't do something stupid'

[NEW MESSAGE FROM: Francey Pants] 'Antonio?'

[NEW MESSAGE FROM: Francey Pants] 'Hello?'

[NEW MESSAGE FROM: Francey Pants] 'I'm on my way.'

The messages played while Antonio filled his glass again. He didn't pick up his phone or even touch it; he remained still. The only sound was the faint music of Jimmy Fontana in the background, the neighbor's dog barking, and the wine he was pouring spilling on the counter. Eventually, he put it down, but wine was already pouring on his lap and onto the floor.

He was a failure. He was such a failure.

Antonio was a failure.

'Forgive me, mi corazon'

Wine soaked into his carpet and his pants. But the cold feeling could not compare with the shiver that pierced through his spine. He was frozen in place, eyes forced shut, teeth grit, and nearly shattering the bottle with his grip.

[NEW MESSAGE FROM: UNKNOWN] 'It's Papa again. I'm coming home. Still lying to yourself about art?'