Tesoro Mio Chapter Ten: Albariño, a hetalia - axis powers fanfic

(To the guest who drew fan art for the story, please don't apologize! I'd love to see it! If you can, post it on Tumblr and tag it #Tesoro Mio! Or send me a link through PM!)

*Also, just to reiterate, because it's been a while - Alfred is a large animal vet (meaning cows, horses, etc.), and Arthur is a small animal vet. They have a practice together.

*Marie Bonnefoy - Monaco, and Francis's younger sister

*Giovanni Vargas - Seborga, distant cousin in the Vargas family tree

*Luciano da Silva - Brazil, husband of Isabel (Antonio's sister)

Chapter Ten

Albariño - is a Spanish white wine grape variety noted for its distinctive aroma of apricot and peach, residual bitterness, and generally high alcohol content.

~/~

It was hot. The sun was bright and large in the sky, and it burned Antonio's skin from all angles. He let the light sink deep into his pores, and deliberately ignored the shade of the lemon tree next to him. Antonio wanted heat. He needed it. The warmth, the burn: it was the sunlight's embrace.

Antonio was often alone as a child. His parents were very busy and important people, it wasn't unusual that they didn't have time to spend with their children. And Isabel was eight years younger and in a crib for so long, Antonio learned to entertain himself. He would run away from the nannies and into the outdoors. He'd hide in the stables with the horses, or climb through the gardens and get caught in the roses. There was a comfort in the outdoors. The indoors was stifling, strict, and cold. It was all order and manners, and every room had a certain set of rules to be obeyed.

Antonio spent so many hours being locked away in his bedroom, the nursery, and the closet, he knew the truth. A house was just a collection of rooms. And rooms were just boxes. Lifeless and hard, their only purpose was to entrap you, cage you, and keep you from the real world. And there's nothing real about the indoors.

He loved the outdoors. He loved life. And outside, everything was alive. The grass, the trees, the animals, the sky. Antonio didn't feel alone there, because he wasn't alone. And it didn't matter who he was, what he believed in, what his grades were, or how much money he had. There aren't rules. Well, maybe there are, maybe there aren't, but there existence wasn't important, and that was the point.

"Toni!"

Antonio recognized the accent, the cadence, but somehow it did nothing to cheer him. He didn't even move. Toni wasn't the name he wanted to hear right now.

"Toni! Mon cher, what are you doing?" Francis called again, and this time closer. His footsteps crunched grass, and someone was running behind him.

"Damn it, do you think he can even hear us?" Gilbert asked, and his voice sounded strangely worried.

Antonio sighed, and dipped his head into his arms.

His friends collapsed on either side of him. It was obvious which one fell to the ground hurriedly, and which one knelt down in a few fluid strokes. He thought he didn't want them here. He thought they'd be suffocating and unnecessary. But then he felt touches on his arms, his hair…

Nature can listen, but it can't hold you.

"It's okay, mon cher. It's only us," Francis murmured, and his smooth hands swept through Antonio's messy curls.

Gilbert squeezed Antonio's bicep. "We already know," he explained. "Feliciano woke Ludwig up this morning, crying and really upset. I called Francis and we came over here as soon as we could."

"I'm so sorry Toni. I really am. I was so worried that—" he cut himself off and took a deep breath.

The words I told you so lingered in the air.

"Toni, uh, do you want to like, talk about it or something?" Gilbert offered tentatively. "I don't really understand what happened. Did you guys like get into a fight or something?"

"Gilbert," Francis warned.

"What? I can ask that!"

"Does it look like Toni wants to talk about it?"

Gilbert groaned, and then he dropped his head in his hands too. "I just want to help man. I can't stand it when I don't know what's going on."

"Just be patient. He'll—"

"He was afraid," Antonio said abruptly.

Gilbert propped himself back up, and Francis leaned in closer. Antonio was still hidden in his arms. His friends looked at one another, deciding whether to push him or wait for him to continue.

Slowly, Antonio added, "I mean…I knew he was afraid. He's always been afraid. But I thought…" he paused. "I thought he was coming around."

Gilbert exchanged looks between Francis and Antonio. His eyes narrowed. "Oh, is this about the whole gay thing?"

Francis rolled his eyes.

Antonio's shoulders rose and fell with a heavy breath. "I think he's more afraid of what other people would think."

"Well," Francis placated. "Most people are like that. It's not that unusual."

"But I think he's afraid of me too. Because I don't care."

"Well, you are unusual."

Antonio almost laughed; he tried, but it sounded more like a breathy, tired sigh. He lifted his head anyway, and stared out at the horizon. There were no tear stains, his eyes weren't red, but…

That melancholic mist that used to cloud those green eyes all of those years ago in Spain had returned. Gilbert and Francis both recognized it.

Finally, a breeze stirred, momentarily lifting the sunlight off of their skin.

"He'll come back," Antonio said quietly.

Gilbert raised a brow. "How do you know?"

"Well," Antonio smiled and looked at him. "He can't hide away forever."

"I guess that's true," Gilbert chuckled, and tried to lighten the mood.

Antonio hummed, and glanced towards the vineyards again. "And I think he might love me."

"If that's why you think he'll come back, why did he even leave in the first place?" Francis replied dryly. Gilbert threw him a glare, but he ignored it.

"He's afraid," Antonio repeated. "But he knows how much I love him. He'll come around."

Francis opened his mouth to point something out, but Gilbert swooped in with a clap to Antonio's back.

"Of course he will, buddy! Even an idiot like him will realize it at some point!" Gilbert declared boldly, with a strong laugh.

Antonio smiled at him appreciatively, but said nothing.

Francis looked away, and frowned.

More wind passed. And this time some leaves fell too.

"How long do you think it'll take?" Francis asked gently.

Antonio didn't have an answer right away. He was tying flowers together, and still smiling. "I don't know," he said. "But he'll come back one day."

It was too romantic of an answer. Knowing Antonio, he would wait forever, rain or shine, but it's unrealistic. Too childish. Too irrational. Francis didn't want his friend to suffer for so long.

"When?" Francis repeated.

Antonio turned to him, and their eyes met. Antonio stared right at him, but his eyes were still so far away. Simply unreachable. He was locked away in a dream.

"Eventually," he answered.

And they sat until dusk, when finally Antonio agreed to leave with them.

~/~

The next morning, after Gilbert had coerced them to drink like the good old days of their trio, they awoke piled together in Gilbert's messy queen-sized bed.

Francis was delirious, and Gilbert had a terrible, throbbing hangover, but Antonio was oddly quiet. After a while, they noticed he was shaking and they turned him over. Antonio had been crying all night.

~/~

"He'll come back," she said softly.

Francis was brooding over a glass of red wine. He didn't know what kind it was; he could barely taste it. He was too upset.

Jeanne tiptoed over to Francis's side and ran her hands over his arm. "He'll come back, mon cher. You'll see."

Francis ran his fingers through his hair. "What if he doesn't?" he asked. "Antonio doesn't have it in him to put his heart back together again. First his family, now the Italian…"

Jeanne sat down next to him and held his hand. "He'll come back," she said again.

He turned to his left and admired her gentle, assured smile. Her gold cross glinted in the moonlight.

"But what if he comes back and it doesn't make a difference?" Francis asked. This was the question that bothered him most of all.

Jeanne's smile never faltered, and she held his hand tighter. "Lovino loves him. I can tell."

"That doesn't answer the question."

Jeanne laughed then, and she reached out for Francis's face. "You're too involved in your friends' lives for your own good. It seems like when Antonio's heart breaks, yours does too."

Francis smiled at that. It was true. "Well, we are very good friends."

"What does Gilbert think of the situation?"

"Gil's an idiot," Francis muttered and rolled his eyes. "He seems to think that we can either threaten Lovino to come back, blackmail him, or just kidnap him. And the frightening part is, he seemed rather keen on the last one."

"He wants to help," Jeanne said, laughing lightly.

"I know," Francis replied, and he took another sip of his wine. Then he stared out the window again. "But there's nothing we can do."

Jeanne ran her thumb over his hand.

"He'll come back," she reassured him again. "He'll come back when he's ready."

Francis closed his eyes. The same questions lingered in his head.

But when will he come back? Weeks? Months? More? And…

What was Antonio supposed to do in the meantime?

~/~

It was easy to go on as normal for a while. Antonio had a job to do, and there was something monotonously comforting about doing a routine. It would force his thoughts away from his heart and towards his hands. He had to be careful with what he was doing. He couldn't let his mind stray for too long. And for that reason, the days were easy. Berwald and Kiku hardly noticed a difference, or if they did they didn't comment on it. Talking wasn't their strong suit anyway.

It was the nights that were hard.

Antonio was never the type to sleep well, or for very long, and that was part of the reason he took regular siestas in the afternoon. It was either nightmares or thoughts that kept him up. And usually the nightmares were just extensions of what was already on his mind.

He dreamt of his parents, their words, their yells: loud, harsh Spanish that echoed everywhere in his ears. When he woke up in a start he could still hear it. Tears were streaming down his face and he could still hear it. There are some words that never fade away. Their echoes seem to go on for eternity.

"Antonio Fernandez Carriedo!"

Y-yes?

"We can't do this again. You have to start acting responsibly."

I know. I know. I'm trying. I really am.

"More like your sister."

…Yes.

"You're so selfish! Why can't you think of us for once?"

I'm not selfish! Really, I—well, I don't mean to be! I just…I can't do it. Any of it.

"What about the family's reputation? Don't you care?"

I do care. I do. I care so much. I care about everyone. Mamá, papa, Isabel. Everyone. But I can't…I can't pretend. I'm no good at pretending. And I'm no good at being who you want me to be, I'm…

"Selfish!"

No, I—I don't want to be, I—

"A disgrace!"

No! No, please! I'm trying, I—

"A disappointment!"

…I know.

These were old nightmares. Used ones that never evaporated. The newer ones were much worse.

"Antonio, stop."

Lovino. I don't want you to cry.

"I c-can't do this."

Please don't cry.

"It's not right."

Please…

"I'm just…I'm not what they think—I can't be like this. I—"

I know. I know, Lovino. I should've made you talk about this more. We should've talked about this together. But I've always known.

Because you're right. I may not care now, but I used to. It's scary to be different, and to have people look at you. Maybe I see it a bit more clearly than you. My family's always been in the spotlight one way or another: television, papers, parties, and galas. I've met a lot of people that my parents wanted to impress. They wanted to impress them because they wanted their support, their affection, and their admiration. It was for the game that all powerful people play.

I never liked it. I cared about my family, and my friends, but not everybody else. I never needed power, so I didn't try to please them.

But you don't need power either. And you don't have to worry about the affection of your family and friends. You know that. So then…why are you so concerned about what everyone else thinks?

You don't seem to understand.

You don't seem to believe.

I think, even after all of this time, you don't think people will love you. You think you have to be perfect just to have a chance.

Oh, Lovi. You're too gentle, too cautious, too careful. You're too scared to believe. I should've told you I loved you more. I should've complimented you more often. I should've tried to get through to you.

But you were always so afraid.

Even of me.

~/~

"Nonno! Ciao! How are you?" Feliciano gushed, and turned his watch over to check the time. It must have been early in Verona.

"Well, Feli…I've been better," he replied tiredly. His voice sounded rough and decaffeinated. "Lovino and I had a long night again."

"Oh," Feli sighed, and his heart panged. "Lovi still hasn't talked to me."

"He's not really talking to anyone right now. All business, and then shuts himself up in his room. Or walks for miles in the vineyards."

Feli picked up a ladle and stirred the marinara sauce. "Has he talked about what happened?"

"Not to me," he muttered. "He really hasn't talked to anyone about anything."

"Sounds like Lovi," Feli agreed with a sad smile. "Do you think, um…Do you think you can get him to talk to me?" It's been a month.

"Have you two really not talked since he left?" Nonno demanded in disbelief. "I can't believe it. You guys are usually joined at the hip. I didn't think you went longer than a few hours talking to each other."

Feliciano's eyes stung, and he kept stirring. "I think he's really mad at me."

"Aw, Feli. That's not true. Lovino has a short-temper, and very sensitive, but he's never been mad at you for long," he assured him. "If you want to know the truth. He's probably just afraid to talk to you. He looks kind of guilty."

"Guilty?" Feliciano repeated.

"Yeah, well, he hasn't admitted it. But I can tell he feels bad for leaving in such a hurry. Little Lovi's always worn his heart on his sleeve."

Feliciano didn't respond right away, and stared transfixed at the pot.

"Look, I know you don't want to go behind your brother's back, but could you maybe explain to me why he left so abruptly? This whole thing's thrown me for a loop."

Feliciano's eyes hardened and he made a decision. "He fell in love."

"He…what?"

"Lovi fell in love. That's why he left."

Nonno fell silent for a while. He took a few long, deep breaths. "Well, I guess it's about time."

Feliciano couldn't help but laugh.

Nonno hummed thoughtfully. "So he's running away from love, huh? That's not very Italian of him."

"He's really confused," Feliciano added.

"That doesn't surprise me. Lovino's always been the one to overthink things too," nonno commented dryly. "So all of this for some girl, huh?"

Feliciano bit his lip. "Well…not exactly."

Nonno's silent confusion reverberated through the phone. Slowly, he asked, "…What does that mean?"

~/~

"Do you think it's too soon?"

Gilbert finished his swig of beer and wiped his mouth. He glanced at Francis and narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean?"

Francis gestured around like it was obvious. "Do you think it's too soon for me to suggest someone new?" he elaborated. Gilbert still seemed confused, so he added, "for Antonio."

Gilbert understood that. "What?" he snapped and peered over Francis's shoulder to check that Antonio hadn't heard anything. "Of course it's too soon. The damn brat is the only thing on his mind. He hardly even looks at anyone anymore."

"Gilbert, it's been two months," Francis emphasized. "Two months and not one word. Antonio's terribly lonely. It's obvious."

"He's an idiot, but we can't tell him what to do," Gilbert replied. "He's still in love with him."

Francis groaned and leaned over the bar. "I know," he lamented. "Why does he do this to himself? Why couldn't he just fall in love with someone easy?"

"Because he's an idiot," Gilbert repeated, and he chugged the rest of his beer.

Francis nursed his white wine and continued stewing silently in his dark corner.

Minutes later, Antonio left Elizaveta's and Roderich's table, and rejoined his friends at the bar. His eyes were glazed and tired, but he smiled pleasantly and leaned against the counter.

"I finally escaped," he joked, and laughed lightly.

Gilbert laughed too, but his eyes were watching Antonio warily. He uncapped another beer. "Yeah, looks like Eliza was a bit too eager to get lil' Roddy out of the house. He looks totally out of his element though. Poor snob."

"Despite it all, they're still a rather endearing couple, aren't they?" Francis pointed out.

Gilbert pursed his lips and took a dramatic pause. Then he finally replied, "nah, not really."

"Of course you'd say that." Francis shook his head and smiled. "What do you think, Toni?"

Antonio's eyes slowly wandered back to Elizaveta's table. "I think they're sweet," he said softly.

His friends appeared to have realized their mistake at the same time. Francis pinched the bridge of his nose, and Gilbert kept chugging beer; both of them desperately hoping the miserable feelings will pass. They didn't though.

Antonio turned back towards them and his smile was fading. He sighed and stared at his calloused hands. "I think I'm going back now amigos. I'm getting kind of tired."

Francis sat up. "Oh, are you sure mon cher? Don't you want to stay for a while longer?"

"Yeah, you can totally stay at my place tonight. Luddy isn't even home, so you can risk his uptight bed," Gilbert offered, trying to make light towards the end.

Antonio chuckled, but pushed off of the counter anyway. He fumbled through his pockets for the keys to Berwald's truck. "Thanks for the offer, but I think I'd rather get back home. I'm getting pretty sleepy."

Gilbert's shoulder slumped in defeat. "Well, all right then," he grumbled. "Drive safe, buddy."

"I will."

Antonio was starting to walk away when Francis grasped his shoulder and turned him around. "Toni, are you sure you're okay?"

Antonio stared at him a bit surprised, and slowly a smile returned. "Of course! I'm just tired, Francis. I promise."

Francis pressed his lips together and gave him an even look. "Well, I was wondering whether or not to even offer this. But…how would you feel about maybe working for me?" he asked gently. Then added, "just for a while." Until your beloved comes back…if he does. "For a change of scenery at least. And some new company."

Now, Antonio was too stunned to even smile. "I-I, um," he started. A warm blush crept over his tan. Knowing that his friends were fussing over him always embarrassed him. "Gracias, Francis," he finally managed. "But I'm not sure if that's the problem…"

"I know," Francis replied swiftly. "But at least if you stay with Jeanne and I…" he bit his lip and debated even finishing. "You won't be as…lonely as you—"

"I'm not—"

"Yes, you are," Francis interrupted. "Don't even bother with lies, Toni. Gilbert and I have seen this version of you before." Antonio winced and Francis's gaze softened. Slowly, he reached for his shoulder and gave it a reassuring grip. "We know you're hurt Toni. You have a right to be. Gilbert and I are just trying to help you. It's hard sitting on our hands."

Indecision flit across Antonio's eyes, but he decided to reply honestly. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to be like this. I…" he closed his eyes. Then he opened them and smiled. "I just have a lot on my mind. But it won't be for much longer. I promise."

Francis eyed him carefully, and he knew there was no chance of digging through that happy façade. Reluctantly, he let go of Antonio's arm, and waved. "Well, I've made my offer anyway. Let me know if you reconsider."

"I will," Antonio said easily, and turned on his heel.

Francis decided to escort him, and matched his stride to the door. When they reached it, Francis held it open and as Antonio slid by, he whispered, "Just so you know Toni, if your lover was never your lover, it's not cheating to find company until he returns."

Antonio paused to catch the end of the sentence. He peered over his shoulder and matched Francis's cool, knowing eyes.

Antonio didn't know which of his replies to choose, so he said nothing and smiled. Then he kept walking to the car.

Francis sighed again, and retreated back into the bar.

~/~

Ring!

"…"

Feliciano held his breath. "Lovi? Is that you?"

There was a drawn out sigh, then slowly came the reply, "Yeah."

"Oh, grazia a dio! I thought you were never going to talk to me!" Feliciano confessed, half-laughing, though his breath was still coming too fast. He started walking down the hall, looking for something to do.

"Your calls were getting hard to ignore," Lovino muttered.

Feliciano eyes wandered up to the ceiling. "Was that the only reason?"

"Yes," Lovino replied snappily. Then there was a groan. "And…no."

Feliciano smiled resumed his casual stroll down the hall. "I'm still very mad at you, you know."

"Yeah…"

"And you haven't apologized to me yet."

"Yeah…"

"Or to anyone else for that matter."

Lovino didn't respond that time, and faint noises of plates clinking echoed through the phone.

"Where are you?" Feliciano asked, curiosity veering his train of thought. "I thought you hated going to town."

"I do, damn it," Lovino grumbled quietly, like he was afraid of being heard. "But I'm on a business trip. I needed to escape the hotel, so I went to the bar across the street."

"Oh? So you're not in Verona anymore?"

"I'm in Sicily. I had to get out of Verona. Nonno was being really clingy. I couldn't take being around him for much longer," Lovino mumbled, the last part more to himself.

Feliciano reached the staircase and started walking down. "Hm, what was he being clingy about?"

"He—uh, he," Lovino stammered. "H-he was just being an annoying bastard as usual. He's trying to talk to me about life and whatever."

Feliciano pursed his lips. It seemed like nonno wasn't getting through to him very well. "Ve~ well, you know he only wants to help!"

Lovino's reply was somewhere in between a snort and a cough, followed by a few polite remarks, presumably made to a pretty waitress. "Sorry," he spoke into the phone again. "Someone came by."

Feliciano nodded and hummed lightly. His fingers danced on the railing of the staircase, and he battled his indecision. "So Lovi," he began slowly. "When do you think you'll come back to California?"

It was silent, then some ambience noise of soft Italian and footsteps lingered. "I don't know," Lovino finally murmured.

Feliciano smiled bitterly and walked to the kitchen. "Well, you never really explained why you left in the first place," he pointed out.

"I know."

"Do you think you can now?"

More footsteps. Just walking and walking. Where was Lovi going?

"…No," he said.

"I see," Feliciano replied.

A church bell rang. Once, twice, three—

"Has anything changed since you left?" Feliciano asked finally.

Four, five, six— "…I don't know."

"I see."

Seven, eight, nine.

"I-I'm sorry, Feli."

Feliciano stopped opening the freezer and paid attention.

"I didn't—I didn't mean to snap at you, o-or ignore you—I…" Lovino trailed off. "I was really upset w-with myself, but I was never mad at you...Scusa."

"Lovi," Feliciano breathed, more in relief than surprise. He knew eventually Lovino would come around. It was always a matter of when. Everything took longer with Lovino. "It's okay fratello. I was just worried about you."

"You don't need to be."

Feliciano lips quirked in amusement, and he grasped the sorbet resting on the shelf. He closed the freezer and didn't bother responding with an argument. It's not as if Lovino would listen anyway.

After a few minutes of Feliciano slaving away at the sorbet and carving out a few pieces for himself into a bowl, Lovino spoke again.

"So, um, how are things there?" he asked tentatively.

"Ve~ how do you mean?" Feliciano teased.

"God damn it, you—"

"Well, nothing's changed much I guess. It's getting a bit cooler, finally. We're getting ready to harvest the grapes soon."

"Uhuh."

"Berlitz has grown up a lot. Ludwig brings him over more and more now that he's a big puppy. He's been talking about moving out of his brother's place to find an apartment that allows pets."

"Like I give a sh—"

"Oh, and Berwald and I are going to start giving interviews tomorrow."

"Interviews?" Lovino repeated, obviously confused. "For what?"

Feliciano steadied his voice, so that he would sound very clear. "For a replacement farmer."

"A…" Lovino's voice faded, and Feli could only imagine the expression. It must have been so fearful. "Why?" he choked.

Feliciano pressed his lips together and closed his eyes. "Antonio gave his notice two weeks ago. He's staying until we find a replacement, but after we do, he's leaving."

"Leaving? But—what else can that bastard do? Don't tell me he's going back to Spain or something," Lovino said shakily.

"No, that's not what he told me. I think he's going to work for Francis for a bit," Feliciano replied carefully. Antonio was very ambiguous with his words, but that sounded about right.

"S-so, he's only leaving…for a while?"

"I don't know," Feliciano answered honestly. Then sensing an opening, he added, "But if you really want to know, you could ask him that yourself."

Lovino scoffed. "I don't have that idiot's number."

"I could always put him on my phone if you like," Feliciano offered. He held his breath and waited for the answer he knew would—

"No."

Of course.

Feliciano sighed and rested his elbow on the counter. "Is there anything else you want to talk about?"

There was a shift in the conversation. It was obvious. Lovino had shut his vulnerability away.

"Let's talk about business."

And they did.

Nada turba mi ser, pero estoy triste.

Algo lento de sombra me golpea,

aunque casi detrás de esta agonía,

he tenido en mi mano las estrellas.

Debe ser la caricia de lo inútil,

la tristeza sin fin de ser poeta,

de cantar y cantar, sin que se rompa

la tragedia sin par de la existencia.

Ser y no querer ser? esa es la divisa,

la batalla que agota toda espera,

encontrarse, ya el alma moribunda,

que en el mísero cuerpo aún quedan fuerzas.

¡Perdóname, oh amor, si no te nombro!

Fuera de tu canción soy ala seca.

La muerte y yo dormimos juntamente...

Cantarte a ti, tan sólo, me despierta.

Fall

It was time for the harvest.

Some preferred the newer, mechanical methods of picking the grapes, and there were others who clung to tradition. Francis insisted on tradition.

It wasn't just the grapes for his Sauternes wine, which are required to be handpicked; Francis ordered that all varieties, all types, all grapes be handpicked. He said that he didn't care about the costs and the extra labor, and that his family has always held the tradition of handpicking. In a way, it is even more efficient, since the knowledge of the farmer helps him pick only healthy bunches of grapes, and picks them with a gentler hand.

And since Antonio knew Francis was so particular about his harvest season, and that he went out of his way to hire extra workers for the very reason, he allowed himself to flee.

Originally, he didn't want to. He wanted to stay and prove a point. But more and more, the loneliness was engulfing him, suffocating him. There were people around, but the fact that the one he wanted wasn't there just made the emptiness all the more noticeable.

He had to get out. Strolling the acres of Francis's larger, well-established estate was distracting. He wasn't used to Lovino's presence there. He didn't expect it.

It was only the times he visited the stable that a cold chill swept over his skin and his lips. He ached for that familiar warmth. Someone as hot and bright as the sun.

~/~

Feli managed to find someone to hire. He was as tall and strong as Berwald, and carried his load just as well.

But it wasn't the same.

Nothing would be the same as before.

~/~

Antonio was invited to dinner with Francis and Jeanne almost every night. It wasn't a surprise. Francis, Gilbert and him used to have every meal together for a while.

But there was something about being the third wheel. It never bothered Antonio before, and now it did.

One night, Francis and Jeanne talked about a vacation they were planning for the spring—they were going to visit Paris, Marseilles, and Monaco and attend fabulous parties and events all the while. Francis even joked about getting married.

Antonio decided to eat on his own from then on.

~/~

Lovino spent two hours comparing flights to California. He bought a one-way ticket, then cancelled it. He bought another one, and cancelled it too.

~/~

"Shh. Está bien, Rosalita," Antonio whispered, and he ran his hand over the mare's broad neck.

"Alfred, are you sure you need me here? I'm not exactly comfortable with…this," Arthur mumbled as he gestured in the general direction of Rosalita. She was sprawled on the floor, heaving strong and heavy breaths. Alfred was at the rear of her, looking excited, but also concentrated, and Antonio was petting her neck and nose.

"Aw, come on Artie! This is really exciting! I know you've seen dogs and cats give birth, how is this any different?" he replied enthusiastically.

"Well, for one, there's a lot more—"

"Oh, here come the hooves!"

"Oh, dear god," Arthur murmured and he turned away.

Francis laughed and leaned against the back of the stall. Jeanne was there too, standing by and keeping them company. It was very late at night, and rather chilly.

"You're doing so well," Antonio encouraged, and he kept strong eye contact with Rosalita. He's been with her all day.

"Here comes the head!" Alfred announced proudly. Arthur ducked into the empty stall nearby.

Rosalita kept breathing, and Alfred was dedicated to announcing every detail of the birth. Eventually, a little foal sat on the floor, and Rosalita shakily stood up to break the umbilical cord, and Alfred set to work on cleaning and inspecting the foal for any injury.

"Hm, it looks like she's as healthy as a horse, Toni!"

Arthur sighed and covered his face. "You bloody moron."

"What are you going to name here?" Francis prompted.

Antonio was watching the dark foal struggling to rise to its feet. "Another flower, I think."

"Don't you have one in mind already?" Francis asked, slightly surprised. "Knowing you…"

Finally, the foal stood.

Antonio smiled, and said, "I guess I've just had a lot on my mind."

~/~

For a week, a storm of rain and hail passed through the valley. It was strange, but not unheard of. And though it caused some difficulty for the vineyards and traffic, Francis and Gilbert found the silver lining, and decided to use this as an opportunity to stage an intervention for their friend. Although, after Antonio's brisk talks with Francis and Jeanne, Gilbert was put in charge of taking the bullet this time.

He was drinking a beer a bit too early in the afternoon to calm his nerves. He needed to be cool and collected, or else Antonio might take it the wrong way.

"So, Toni," he began, and crossed his arms over the bar counter.

Antonio looked up from his soda, eyes bright. "What is it?"

Gilbert grimaced and looked to the side. "Ah, well…" he mumbled. "Francis—no. I—well, we were wondering something…" Antonio just stared at him blankly, so Gilbert persevered. "Well, what if Lovino...doesn't come back?"

Antonio chuckled and shook his head. "He will. Don't worry."

"Damn it, how can I not worry? You put up a good front for other people, but Francis and I can tell how sad you are."

"Lo siento," Antonio said, and his smile faded. "But he'll come back, Gilbert. I know he will."

Gilbert wanted to tear his hair from the roots. He still tried to restrain his voice though. "Well, what if he comes back, but doesn't want to be with you?" he demanded.

Antonio remained very still, as though he hadn't heard the question.

So Gilbert tried again. "It's not that I don't think you guys have a chance, but I have to side with Francis on this one. I think you should start looking at this realistically. It's been four months. Four months, and no word at all. Not even through Feliciano."

Antonio sighed. "I know."

Gilbert straightened his back and leaned away slightly. "Oh," he said. Awkwardly, he added, "Well, good then."

Antonio nodded, but couldn't muster up a smile this time. His eyes shined, because it was true.

It was four months and counting.

~/~

After a long walk, Lovino returned to his room. He stared at his computer for what seemed like hours. Then when it was dark outside, he bought a ticket for Spain.

He spent the rest of the night packing.

They are not long, the weeping and the laughter,

Love and desire and hate:

I think they have no portion in us after

We pass the gate.

They are not long, the days of wine and roses:

Out of a misty dream

Our path emerges for a while, then closes

Within a dream.

Winter

Antonio craved affection. He hungered for love. There was some part of him that was shattered and damaged long ago, and left him under a spell of constant and eternal loneliness.

Somehow, when he was outside and alone, he didn't feel it. When it was clearly just him and nature, the loneliness seemed to evaporate, and his heart didn't feel as heavy. It was only when another person was there did he realize his pain.

Antonio needed people. He did. It was an undisputed truth. When he was by himself, he could pretend it didn't matter because they weren't in plain sight, but when there was another warm body somewhere near…it was like a magnetic pull. Antonio needed them. He needed to touch and be touched. To love and be loved. Just to pretend, if only for an hour, that life wasn't so terrible, and so hauntingly melancholy.

And it was perhaps for that reason that he woke up naked in a bed that he knew was not his.

He hadn't opened his eyes yet, but it was the smell that struck him first. Like honey and fresh roses. So sweet and sugary, and sensual and kind of…

A jolt of panic shot through Antonio's veins and he opened his eyes in fright. He sat up on his elbows and ignored the throbbing pulse banging on his temples.

Oh, he thought, and sank back onto the bed with a nervous laugh. This isn't Francis's room, gracias a Dios.

Something about the smell reminded Antonio of him, but as the dreamy, champagne-clouded memories drifted back, he remembered that it was a woman. He met her at Francis's Christmas party, much later in the evening.

Antonio's hands drifted over to the other side of the bed and brushed over the cold, silk sheets. He imagined she must have left a while ago. Antonio turned over on his back and stared up at the white ceiling.

He couldn't really remember what led to it, or what really transpired during it, but…

He felt a little less lonely that night.

~/~

Her name was Marie. She was only passing through California for the holiday season, and was going back to France after New Year's.

She was also Francis's younger sister. That was the bigger surprise.

"Well, I knew it was you right away," she said with a small smile as her hands worked at braiding her thick, light brown hair. "We met a few years ago, when you were visiting Francis at our home in Marseilles."

"Oh, right," Antonio replied slowly, though truthfully the memory was very vague and faded. There was no doubt she was Francis's sister though. Marie was calmer, to be sure, but there was the familiar air of sophisticated elegance about her. And between the glasses, the deep blue of her eyes, and the way she poured her tea—Antonio sensed a quiet wisdom too.

She would glance at him over her glasses and her eyes would sparkle. "It's okay if you don't remember, Toni. It was a long time ago."

Antonio blushed and stared at his own breakfast. Marie had ordered the hotel breakfast to be served in their room. It was a lovely display of pastries, bread, and jam.

"Lo siento. I don't really have a good memory for these sorts of things," Antonio explained, and he poured his coffee.

"Hm," she said in acknowledgment, and took another sip of her tea. "So you're broken-hearted, aren't you?"

Antonio's hands shook a little, and he spilled coffee onto the plate. "Not really," he grinned, and smoothly placed the pitcher back on the table.

Marie laughed—it was lighter, and more feminine than Francis's, but just as friendly. "Don't bother lying, Toni," she told him. Their eyes met again, and something mischievous flickered across hers. "I didn't tell you my name last night, but you chose to call me Lovi. It's a rather unusual term of endearment, wouldn't you say?"

Antonio could feel his ears burn, and flashes of the night before returned to his mind. He did remember moaning something…it's just his luck he would bare his heart.

Marie noticed his distress and reached for his hand. "If it makes you feel any better, I called you Giovanni."

He looked back at her and tilted his head. His mind was still working slow from the alcohol – he never handled it well – but Antonio thought he understood this.

She noticed the understanding in his eyes and she nodded her head. "We're very alike, it would seem."

~/~

It didn't last long, but that was what they both wanted. It was just until Marie had to leave, they decided to spend every other night together.

"What if he doesn't come back?" Antonio asked in the darkness. They were both looking at the nighttime lights outside the window.

"He will," she said quietly, but with certainty. "I know I'll go back one day."

They didn't say much about each other's situations, but they felt they didn't really need to.

"When?"

Her eyes flit to the sky. "Well…I'll go back to France very soon, but I haven't told him that. It will only be a short stop, before I visit our wineries in Spain."

Antonio smiled dreamily. "It'll be nice in Spain around this time. A bit cool, but still very beautiful."

Marie hummed as she nodded her head. "I think maybe after that, I'll see him again. I'm just not ready now."

Antonio wondered when Lovino would be ready, or whether he'd ever be ready at all. He was so sure during summer that Lovino loved him – at least little bit – but there was something about the passing of time that damaged his confidence. It made the past cloudy and confusing, and Antonio didn't know whether there was any reality in it, or if he dreamt the whole thing.

"Maybe he never loved me at all," he murmured softly.

Marie tilted her head to gaze at him. The light of the streetlamps reflected in her glasses; then slowly, she pressed her lips to his cheek. "He did. Trust me."

Antonio glanced at her and laughed. "You don't even know him."

Her lips turned up in a small, sly smile. "Call it a woman's intuition. He loves you, and he'll come back. One day."

Antonio sighed breathily. "I hope so."

"You should be more worried about what'll happen when he comes back," she continued airily. "Things won't be like they were."

"I know," Antonio said.

Marie pursed her lips. "You should let him seduce you this time."

Antonio chuckled, and lied back against the pillows. His heart felt surprisingly light.

"He could do that without even trying."

~/~

A few days later, Marie left.

Antonio returned to Francis's vineyard. He felt alone once again.

~/~

Ring!

Antonio caught the caller ID, and immediately picked up the call. "H-hola? Isabel?"

"Toni! How are you? I feel as though I haven't talked to you in ages! I'm so sorry I didn't call during the holidays!"

The familiar, airy Spanish made Antonio grin and a laugh escaped him. "No, no! It's no problem at all! It's so good to hear from you!" he exclaimed. His Spanish came out rushed from his excitement. Truthfully, he was depressed that his family forgot to call (or maybe didn't bother to call), but he's always been the type to forgive in an instant. "I've been doing well! It's been the same around here. How about you?"

"Oh, well, you know," she giggled. Antonio couldn't believe he almost forgot how adorable his sister's laugh was. "Luciano is with me in Spain right now. We're staying with mamá y papá."

The last part pinched Antonio's heart slightly, but he tried to keep his voice pleasant. "H-how are mamá y papá?"

"Well! Papá has been talking about retiring sometime soon. He says he's getting tired of politics."

Antonio couldn't help but feel relieved about that.

"And mamá is about the same," Isabel laughed. "They're both as meddling as usual."

"Oh, I see," Antonio replied. He wondered whether he should try and change the subject. He and Isabel never liked talking about their parents with each other. Before he could try, however, Isabel spoke up.

"We were visited by a friend of yours two weeks ago," she told him. "He was very charming. Mamá y papa were quite taken with him."

"Friend?" Antonio repeated, and his forehead scrunched in concentration. His parents detested Gilbert, and as far as he knew Francis had spent his holidays in California with Jeanne.

"Si! The one who's involved with wine…"

Maybe Francis did leave—

"The handsome Italian," she elaborated. "His name was Lovino something. I can't remember exactly, but mamá probably does."

At once, Antonio's heart stopped. This was the first time he heard the name Lovino from someone other than himself or Feliciano in weeks.

"O-oh," he gasped. "I didn't know he was in España."

She hummed in agreement. "Si, well, he said that it was an abrupt decision. He was visiting some people in the area about purchasing a vineyard. I guess his wine brand—oh, what was it called? Mamá will remember. Anyway, he was in the area talking to people, and he stopped by our house one day," she explained as if it were simple. "He said you'd told him that mamá y papa were well versed in wine and that they could give him a good opinion."

Antonio didn't know whether it was the pulse in his ears or his chest that was beating faster. "Oh."

"He was lovely though. He talked about how you two worked together for a while. He said you didn't know anything about wine, but you were decent with the grapes," she giggled happily. "He was pretty funny."

Antonio laughed along, though his cheeks were hot. He didn't know whether it was a good or bad thing Lovino decided to visit his parents. "Yeah, he is pretty funny," he agreed. "…Did he say anything else?"

"I don't know. Luciano and I left after a while. He talked with mamá y papa for a while after."

Why would Lovino do that? What did that even mean? What did he say?

"Actually, mamá would like to talk to you. Should I put her on the phone?" Isabel asked, her voice a bit gentler.

Antonio's breath caught. His mother wanted to talk to him? It's been a while since they're last talk. "U-um, si."

"Okay," Isabel replied. "Here she is."

Some soft Spanish and shuffling echoed through the phone. Then slowly, Antonio's mother said, "Hola Toni…Cómo estás?"

~/~

On the coldest day of January, Antonio moved back to the Tesoro vineyard. Francis tried to talk him out of it, and Gilbert tried too, but he just laughed them off and did it anyway.

Feliciano welcomed him back with open arms, and almost cried. There were four farmers working at the vineyard now. Feliciano said they'd been understaffed for a while anyway.

So Antonio was introduced to his new coworker, a tall, burly man named Ivan. He was thankful that there was at least one other person to offset the stoic Berwald and Kiku.

~/~

It really was cold though. Why was it so deathly cold?

~/~

Antonio looked at the temperature one day: fifty degrees Fahrenheit. And he was wearing pants, long-sleeves, a jacket, and scarf.

So why were his hands almost numb?

~/~

It occurred to him on the first day in February to go to church. He didn't know why the thought flew by; it must have been years since he's stepped foot inside one. He wondered whether he should go or not. He wondered for a while.

~/~

When he decided to visit the church, he remembered why he never set foot in them anymore. They were so cold. Freezing really. And there was something about the stone and the high ceilings that made Antonio yawn—he never understood why that was.

But his dreams were becoming more and more frequent, to the point where if he did sleep, he always had nightmares. Maybe that was why he was yawning.

He thought maybe he should try praying for Lovino. He hadn't tried it since he was a child, but he thought maybe this was the time to do it again. Lovino was probably very scared, or very angry. Most likely both. And Antonio worried for him everyday. Although a part of him was furious with Lovino, and was even indignant enough to never want to see him again—he knew it was a lie.

Of course, Antonio was frustrated with him. But he couldn't actually be angry with Lovi. Not really. Maybe if Lovino was actually in his arms he'd let himself be angry for a minute, but when he was still by himself, he just couldn't be.

Because he missed him. He missed him dearly.

As he was praying for Lovino's health and safety, he heard soft footsteps echo nearby. He didn't think there was anyone else in the church. It was well after mass.

"Antonio?"

He lifted his head up at the sound of his name and turned around. "Oh. Hola Jeanne!" he said and smiled. Swiftly, Antonio rose from his kneel and sat awkwardly in the pew. He didn't know why he felt embarrassed all of a sudden.

Jeanne seemed to think it was amusing as well, and her grey eyes danced. "I've never seen you in church before."

He chuckled and scratched the back of his head. "Si, I don't usually come. I just…felt like it today, I guess."

"Hm, that's interesting," she replied, and her lips turned up in a secretive smile. She looked like she was ready to laugh. "You know, there was someone here just before you."

He tilted his head questioningly.

"After mass, when I was talking with the priest about something, Lovino ran into me."

What?

"We talked for quite a while about this and that. He got here two days ago apparently. I didn't even know."

Neither did I.

His eyes refocused, and he saw Jeanne was looking at him tenderly.

"He looked well," she added softly.

Oh, thank God.

"Happy?" he asked.

That made Jeanne flash a full smile. "It's hard to tell with him. But he didn't seem unhappy."

Antonio laughed breathily. "I didn't even know he was here." Should I still be ecstatic, or am I more angry now?

"I think Feli and Tino were the only ones," she speculated.

Antonio was in the midst of nodding his head when the adrenaline hit him. His heart sped and his eyes glanced towards the door. Why was he not running already?

He felt Jeanne's hand on his shoulder and shifted his gaze back to her.

"Let me offer some advice, Antonio," she said. "Let him come to you this time."

Antonio's mind halted. Why did he have such a sense of déjà vu right now?

Jeanne was still staring at him, and her grey eyes were bold. "I think you've done enough of the chasing now. Don't you think it's Lovino's turn?"

"You should let him seduce you this time."

That's what Marie said too.

Slowly, that long ago and almost forgotten feeling sank into his skin. He felt his eyes sparkle and his smile brighten. His hands were suddenly warm again, and he felt…like it was summer again.

"I suppose," he started, and gave Jeanne a genuine smile. "I suppose I can let him try."

~/~

*First poem is "Cancion Amarga" by Julia de Burgos

**English translation:

Nothing troubles my being, but I am sad.

Something slow and dark strikes me,

though just behind this agony,

I have held the stars in my hand.

It must be the caress of the useless,

the unending sadness of being a poet,

of singing and singing, without breaking

the greatest tragedy of existence.

To be and not want to be... that's the motto,

the battle that exhausts all expectation,

to find, when the soul is almost dead,

that the miserable body still has strength.

Forgive me, oh love, if I do not name you!

Apart from your song I am dry wing.

Death and I sleep together . . .

Only when I sing to you, I awake.

***The second poem is "They are not long, the days of wine and roses" by Ernest Dowson

I hope everyone's having a wonderful holiday season! Thanks so much for taking the time to read my story! :D I still have a good amount of free time left, so hopefully I'll be out with another chapter very, very soon! (More of Lovino's side of the story will be revealed then, so don't worry!)

Please review! :)