AN:Guys. Guys. I know this update is way early, but I just couldn't wait any longer. I swear, I finished this whole chapter Sunday night when I should have been sleeping, but the inspiration! The ideas!

I would have lost them if I went to sleep.

Anywho! Please, enjoy!

Lovino blinked groggily and rolled over in his empty bed, fleeing from the prying fingers of sun. He pulled the covers over his bear arms while snuggling deeper into the piled fabrics. Around him, Feliciano fretted with finding the paining commissioned to him.

A loud crash made Lovino jump and he glared at his brother, the boy smiling apologetically and rubbing the back of his head. He kept the smile on his face, a good mood still lingering in him, as he picked up the contents of his fallen paint brush bucket.

Lovino was sitting upright by now, seeing it as a lost cause to try going back to sleep with all the noise his brother was making. The blanket pooled around his waist and tickled his naked stomach. He watched with a tired unamusement as Feliciano skittered about the room.

When Feliciano finally found his painting hiding behind the old, dusty picture of The Mountains, he made a boyishly gleeful sound. Lovino shivered when he spied the familiar rising peaks, an old memory that he would rather not remember bubbling up.

"Lovino. Lovino? Will you be fine running the shop alone? I will be gone most of the day and grandfather is in need of his rest today." Feliciano looked at his brother while he tucked the covered painting under his arm. Lovino rubbed his eyes and yawned while he nodded a 'yes'.

"You know the shop does not open for another hour," said Lovino, "You could have let me sleep for a small while longer, bastard." Feliciano smiled at his brother's feisty mouth and walked over to the bed, placing a kiss on Lovino's cheek. Lovino grumbled and shifted his hazel orbs away. He shifted them back again to watch Feliciano bound down the stairs and out of the shop.

-I Used to Have a Lining Problem-

Gilbert stooped lower and poked his head around the corner farther. Francis leaned on his shoulders, peering around the corner as well. He adjusted the dark mustache on his upper lip with a smile. Gilbert did the same.

No one would recognize them, they were sure of it. Francis, with his golden hair tied back like a young lady's, and Gilbert, wearing a cap borrowed from his brother, thought themselves to be completely unrecognizable. Really, they just looked completely foolish.

With hawk eyes, the surveyed the small shop owned by the Vargas family for any sign of movement or life. Gilbert was the first to see the smaller version of Antonio's fancied tailor walk out of the shop with a rectangular piece of fabric tucked under his arm.

"That must be the boy's...," Gilbert tried to think of who he could be while gesturing his hand in the air, and Francis helped to supply an answer.

"His brother, I believe." Gilbert nodded and pushed the piece of hair against his upper lip again. They watched for many more moments, and, finally, the boy they were waiting for propped open the door and began to sweep dirt into the road.

"Let us go now, Francis!"

"Hush, boy! Wait for when he reenters the shop. Then we shall go." Gilbert grunted. He turned his attention back to the boy sweeping to find that the door was still open but the boy was no longer there. The red eyed man looked to his companion, received a nod, and they both strode purposefully around the corner and into the shop.

-But Now I Love the Lines-

Lovino stared with a confused grimace at the two strange looking males standing before him. They both bore matching facial hair that was clearly fake and uppity airs about them that screamed noble birth. He could tell from the first moment they set foot into the shop that the blond man was Prince Francis Bonnefoy of the Kingdom of Alekzandria, though he was not quite sure who the other man was.

"Please. Take the dead rodents off of your faces and leave them outside. I do not need more of a mess to clean," Lovino said with a stoic expression. Both men looked at each other in shock and then each flushed a light pink with embarrassment. The blond, Francis, slowly pulled the hair off while the one with the odd white hair ripped his off in one swift stroke.

"You, boy," said the red eyed man, whom he now assumed was Gilbert Beilschmidit, "You are Lovino Vargas, yes?" Lovino nodded slowly, eyes narrowing into a glare. The two men exchanged looks.

"I, well we, must ask of you one question," spoke Francis calmly as he gestured between him and Gilbert. Lovino nodded again, crossing his arms around his chest and leaning back onto one foot.

"Does your heart hold any affection for Antonio Carriedo?" Every muscle in Lovino's body grew rigid. The boy's fists tightly grasped his shirt sleeves and looked down, hating them silently for confronting him.

"I need you two to leave, now," said Lovino in a fierce whisper, "Leave before he comes back." Francis tilts his head in question.

"'He'? Your brother?" Lovino nodded 'yes', his head still lowered. Francis thought about this hard. He remembered seeing both boys from the balcony holding hands and dancing happily. Then he recalled what was told to him by Antonio the night before.

"He is held too st-strongly by another."

'Surely his brother was not the one holding him,' thought Francis to himself.

"Lovino. Who is it that you are promised to?"

"I am promised to no one," whispered Lovino through his clenched teeth. This confused Francis a great deal.

"Who is it that holds you?" The boy's shoulders began to shake but his eyes were tearless.

"I am held by," Lovino paused, contemplating an answer, "I am held by no one." He lifted his head for a moment to look at the two men and in that moment Francis could see the light purple swelling in his cheek.

"Do not lie," said Francis. At this, Lovino's shoulders dropped, a motion that showed defeat. He pulled his arms around himself tighter and mumbled.

"My brother." Gilbert raised a questioning brow and so did Francis but they stayed silent, hoping to get an explanation.

"He has owned me for many years." Francis and Gilbert both continued the silence and in the silence,the sound of Francis's shattering heart was almost audible and he put two and two together. He stared sadly at the boy's lowered head and almost did not catch the whisper escaping his lips.

"-tion for me?"

"Pardon?" Lovino lifted his head, eyes, only moments ago full of fire and aggravation, now deep-set and melancholy. His sad eyes bore painfully deep into Francis's mind.

"Does Antonio's heart... Hold an affection... For me?" The longing, the raw desperation in the hazel eyed boy's words wounded Francis worse than the spear that left a scar in his left flank. He could not even form the true words that he knew the boy needed to hear. Gilbert, aware of the dilemma, gave the boy his answer.

"The man cries for you." Gilbert's red eyes conveyed the truth that his words mimed. At this, Lovino could have sworn his heart burst, overflowing with emotions he was unaware his bitter body could contain.

Tears, fresh and hot, pricked at the corners of his eyes and he scrunched his face to keep them from falling, sniffling as well. They began to gather and soon they gained tremendous weight and fell from the boy's eyes.

Gilbert and Francis looked at each other, unsure how to react this time. Just as they were reaching to pat Lovino's back, a cheery voice sung out the boy's name. Into the shop walked Feliciano, saying something about a forgotten coin purse.

Lovino and the other two men looked towards the door, eyes wide, meeting with the widened eyes of Feliciano.

"Your highness, ve... How nice to see you," said Feliciano, unsure of himself. He walked slowly up to them and smiled warily. Lovino looked to his brother and saw the confusion in his eyes. He knew what that confusion could easily turn into, and he shuddered at the thought.

Lovino thought rapidly for a moment between two present choices. It did not take him long to chose the option that was bound to change his life. With strength in the presence of the two men standing by him and the knowledge that the handsome noble did in fact hold feelings for him, he gathered his straining voice and spoke.

"Feliciano."

"Vee?"

"You have destroyed me for long enough." Every eye in the room was on him, and one pair was burning with panicking anger.

"You say you will only love me, but you have loved me wrong. I love you. But this love is platonic." Feliciano was frowning now and his painting was lowered to the floor.

"I am gone now, brother. Your hold on my is weak, if not gone." Lovino stood tall and walked past his brother to the door, brushing his shoulder as he passed. Following behind him was Francis and Gilbert, both exchanging wary glances between Lovino and Feliciano. Feliciano stood in shock for a moment, gold eyes spread wide like saucers and body locked into one position.

Then his body burst from it's once immobile spot and through the door. He yelled after the retreating back of his brother but knew that nothing could be done. He had lost his brother. His family was gone. His love was gone. His life had walked away and will never look back.

Lovino listened with silent tears to the anguishing wails of Feliciano fading behind him. These final tears were the peak of the song in his eyes and their cascading over his cheeks was the decelerando to it's finish. He swallowed hard and, with shaking legs, he faced what could be awaiting love, or what could be a cruel dream.

'If it be just a dream, may I never again be awakened.'