Antonio sighed quietly to himself as he tied the green apron around his waist. He really wasn't in the mood to work today, but then he hadn't been for over a week. Ever since Lovino broke up with him, really. He'd just been feeling completely numb, like he'd been given a slight overdose of local anaesthetic, but the only thing that could get through the barrier was a dull, irreversible sadness. It meant that he hadn't been in the mood for anything, even the things he used to love. Except, of course, for seeing Lovino, but that was impossible now. Antonio missed him so much it hurt. But Lovino wasn't answering any of his calls anymore; it was like he suddenly hated him. Antonio wished there was a way to turn back time, for them to return to the way they had been. He'd been so happy, and he was sure that Lovino had been too; he just hadn't been showing it willingly.

Why had Lovino got rid of something that had been making him happy?

"Antonio?"

Antonio blinked, not realising he was being addressed until the concerned face of his co-worker swam into view, framed by long brown hair pinned back by an orange flower barrette. Elizabeta Héderváry was a friendly Hungarian woman who worked part-time at the Two Arches to supplement a singing career. She and Antonio had immediately hit it off, with their friendship being aided by their mutual friendship with Gilbert, and the first few days had been spent exchanging stories of his past crazy antics. Antonio had seen his silver-haired friend do some pretty insane things, but some of the things that Elizabeta had seen him do just were beyond anything. She'd taken part in some of them too, but that had been some time and she was past that thrill-seeking stage now. But, she was one of the nicest people Antonio knew, and a pretty good listener to boot.

She smiled sympathetically at him. "You ok there?"

Antonio sighed, not particularly wanting attention. "I just don't feel up for much today."

She laid a hand comfortingly on his shoulder. "It's Lovino again, what's bothering you, isn't it?" Elizabeta knew all about his situation – once she'd heard from Gilbert that the two were dating in the first place, she'd wanted to know all the details. And in the happier times, Antonio had been more than glad to give them to her, most of them at least. There were a few events that were too explicit for recounting, and these most recent events he'd been a bit more reluctant to divulge. She'd been a bit less pushy than Gilbert and Francis on her opinions about Lovino being 'The Heartbreaker', though. Antonio had been glad of it at the time, but now he wished she'd warned him more too.

"Yeah," Antonio replied vaguely, but didn't expand further. More and more he was tending to keep his thoughts to himself, and he had lost all interest in talking to people about his problems. It wasn't as if it was going to do any good, after all.

Elizabeta patted his shoulder. "It'll be ok, Toni. Love is tough, but you've got to keep moving through it if someone screws you over, right? Don't be down too much – it means he's got to you and then he wins, right? And don't let him win. It's what he wants."

That's what Ludwig said, too, Antonio thought. But I'd do whatever Lovi wants, anything at all, to get him back. Out loud, he said, "I suppose. I'm trying, but it's just really hard."

"It will be," she nodded, "but if-" She broke off abruptly, noticing that their boss was staring hard at them, and then glancing meaningfully at the patient customers in front of the counter. "Oh damn. He's going to have my head if I don't get back to work. Try to keep your spirits up. If you want to talk after work, I'm here for you, ok?" She turned quickly and crossed to the glass-fronted counter, swiftly addressing a petite lady holding a sleeping toddler who was first in line.

Antonio sighed, but inwardly was slightly relieved as he got started on some cleaning. He knew it helped to talk about things, but that was all that Francis – and to a lesser extent Gilbert – were persuading him to do lately, and it was painful and emotionally draining. It really didn't do what it was supposed to, and Antonio was dreading every time that it happened. Plus, repeating the same things over and over again didn't seem to have the profound effect it was rumoured to, and Antonio was losing what little hope he had left. Lovino was all he cared about now, and the Italian was lost to him. All except for the most bittersweet of memories, and the photos that were too painful to look at. It had been over a week, and nothing was feeling any better, not even a little. He still couldn't sleep at night from missing the warmth in the bed next to him, and his heart still ached for a missing piece he couldn't have back.

"Two large cappuccinos, please, Toni!" Elizabeta called to him from her place by the counter, in front of which were now stood two middle-aged women who were clutching their handbags like lifelines. "And if you could tell the guys in the back to get started on the bases for the lunch rush, it'll save us some time in a bit."

Antonio blinked and glanced at the clock on the wall. How was it already half past ten? He could have sworn that it was only nine a few minutes ago. Time hadn't been going past that fast recently; it had been doing its best – and very effective – impression of a lead-laden snail for the past week or so. Yet, all of a sudden, it became fast again. It was so weird sometimes. But, shaking his head, he got to work on Elizabeta's tasks, then returned to the cleaning.

"Antonio?" A voice snapped him out of his absorbing thoughts a few minutes later. But it wasn't Elizabeta's kind and melodious voice this time; it was the harsh bass tones of his boss, a portly man in his fifties. He wasn't the owner of the cafe, only a manager, but he acted as if the place had been in his family for generations. He'd been nice for the first couple of weeks that Antonio had known him for, but he'd soon settled down into a pattern of strictness and bureaucracy once the novelty of a new employee had worn off. Thankfully, the other two managers were much more good-natured, but it was Antonio's bad luck that this guy was in charge today.

Antonio glanced up from the coffee machine, which he was currently attempting to refill with beans without spilling any on the floor. "Uh, hi, sir?"

His boss grunted. "Yes. Can I have a word?" He gestured behind him to the back room door.

"Sure." Antonio placed the half-full bean jar on the work surface behind him, and followed his boss into the office behind the stockroom with a sense of foreboding. A private word was never a good thing in business terms. It was either a backroom deal, or something was wrong. And no one ever wanted to let Antonio in on a backroom deal.

He had no idea how right he was. Once it was just the pair of them in the office, his boss's expression took on a very serious tone. "Antonio," he began, folding his fingers together in front of him. "We need to talk about your recent performance levels. In the last week, your performance has taken a nosedive. Actually, a nosedive would be putting it lightly. Your productivity level seems to have jumped off a building. You've been mixing up orders, making errors in recipes, staring off into space. And it hasn't just been one day, no, it was constantly, all of last week. It's just not professional, Antonio, and it's got to stop. If I don't see an improvement by the end of the week, I'm afraid I might have to let you go."

Antonio bit his lip and tried to keep himself from looking too panicked. This was not what he needed. In fact, if he lost his job, it would be the final nail in a coffin that would have him sat in bed all day sobbing and clutching a pillow. Work was the only thing that got him out of the house, and he needed this job to pay the rent. He couldn't end up heartbroken and homeless. "Uh, sir, you see, the thing is that recently-"

He was quickly interrupted. "If it's anything but a grievous family bereavement or serious financial trouble, I'm not interested. Trivial issues are not extenuating circumstances. I'm afraid this is a business, and poor performance cannot be tolerated."

"But-" Antonio tried to protest, but to no avail.

"You have until Friday," his boss concluded ominously, and stalked from the room before Antonio could say another word.

It was all Antonio could do not to break down on the spot and cry.

Work was his last lifeline. Even though it didn't have the spark to it that it did when he first started, it was the only place where it felt like he had a purpose anymore. It was somewhere to go every day, somewhere that got him out of his house and talking to people instead of forever pining for his lost love by himself. Somewhere that stopped the days from turning into a monotonous blur. And it was one of the few distractions he had left. Everything else had become impossible to do for more than five minutes at a time, whereas, at work, he had set tasks which he had to complete. It wasn't fun, but it helped, as it gave his mind and hands something to do, even if he was almost always thinking about Lovino at the same time. Mentally, it was much more healthy for him. He couldn't lose this last place now. He'd have nothing left.

A sudden realisation hit Antonio at this point. If he lost his job, it would prove something else – that Lovino held enough power over him to completely destroy his life, even through he was no longer in it. Yes, Lovino had been everything to him, but Antonio distinctly remembered having things in his life that weren't him, too.

And this realisation came with a burst of resolve.

Lovino had broken him, and his heart most of all; this Antonio knew. But Ludwig and Elizabeta were right. However much Antonio wanted to give in, and just long for and chase Lovino forever, he couldn't. That would be letting him win. And he couldn't give Lovino that satisfaction. The Italian had probably had enough of a laugh over Antonio's devastated face last week.

No, Antonio was going to move on. It wouldn't be easy, he knew, and it would take a long time, but he was going to try. He was going to work harder at his job, and his manager wouldn't be able to fire him. He was going to get back into his hobbies; play guitar more, buy another few window boxes and grow more plants, see if he could invent a way to make churros even more delicious.

And eventually, perhaps, he could reach the point where he could look at a photo of Lovino and smile at the amazing times they'd had together, instead of dissolving into inconsolable, desolate tears.

This last thought brought an image to mind, an image of Lovino's face, and without realising it, Antonio had looked directly at it. He could still see Lovino's beautiful eyes; so deep, so mysterious, so hypnotising. He could see all he had ever loved in those eyes, and everything he had now lost. Those were the golden eyes that would never leave him. The face he would always love. The man he would always long for, and never again be able to have. In less than a second, his new-found resolve crumbled to pieces as a hammer of sorrow smashed headlong into it. Antonio brought both hands to his face and closed his eyes, feeling warm tears cascade down his face, a familiar feeling now. He wanted to see Lovino, to hold him in his arms, even just to talk to him for a few minutes, and he wanted it so badly it felt like his chest was being strangled.

He couldn't repress it. It was just too difficult. Should he call again? He'd tried calling before, and texting, and email, but Lovino hadn't replied to any of them. And the thought of going to Lovino's house utterly terrified Antonio. There had to be something that he could do, right? Right?

Antonio buried his face in his arms, trying to cut short the futile thoughts and stem the flow of tears before one of his co-workers came in and saw him in such a state. He'd get fired for sure then. He wished he still had Lovino to rely on if things got bad.

Antonio missed him so much.

And on second thoughts…maybe moving on wasn't going to be so easy after all.

XxxxX

Lovino yawned as he wandered into his apartment, throwing his briefcase onto the sofa disinterestedly. It wasn't as if it had anything important in it. Or as if he'd done any work today. His mind just hadn't been concentrating on it. Though he certainly hadn't been thinking about his ex-boyfriend. Brooding over that bastard was just going to cause needless trouble, and that was why Lovino certainly was not doing so. He'd almost completely forgotten about that idiot, for one thing, and it wasn't as if he wasn't able to move on. He'd had a date the night before last, for one thing, and it had gone well. Not great, mind you, but well enough. It wasn't as if he'd kept zoning out and ignoring his date because his mind wouldn't stop entertaining thoughts of Antonio. Nope, things had gone well. Nothing to improve upon in his life, outside of work. Everything was fine.

Speaking of his date, he probably ought to call her. He pulled his phone out of his pocket, remembering it was still on silent after a meeting earlier. It wasn't often that they had meetings at work – Feliciano could neither see the point in them or be bothered to work for them, but every so often – usually at the end of every month – one ended up getting organised for no reason, and nothing got accomplished in it. But it required his phone to be off, so no one's pointless speech got interrupted. So Lovino put his phone on silent. Hey, it was his company, or at least partly, and he wasn't going to kowtow to lesser minds. It was a futile and pointless form of rebellion, really, but Lovino found it amusing nonetheless. It was a brief spark of life in an otherwise dull job. He really ought to find more ways to liven up his job a bit.

[1 voicemail message] read the screen as he clicked his phone into life.

Lovino scowled. This was exactly why he hated turning his phone off or on silent. It was a pain in the ass having to call people back if he missed it vibrating away in his pocket while he was concentrating on something else. Nevertheless, he tapped the screen to play the message – there was always the off-chance that it might be important.

"Hey, Lovi…" The voice paused and Lovino's heart dropped. Antonio. Why did it have to be Antonio? "It's me. Er, Antonio, that is. Uh…you're obviously busy.…uh…should I call back later? It's just…I miss you. Please come back… I still love you, mi tomate. Uh…well, call me back, ok? Bye…" There was a harsh beep, then a robotic voice continued, "Message received today at four thirty-two pm." There was a second beep, then the message ended.

Lovino resisted the urge to drop-kick his expensive phone across the room, instead slipping it back into his pocket and growling loudly as his fingers curled into fists.

Stupid. Goddamn. Spaniard. Why couldn't he just let this be? They were broken up now, he should just move on, like a normal person would. Lovino's reputation was 'The Heartbreaker' after all. That did give an ever-so-subtle hint as to how he would treat relationships once they were done. Antonio should realise that that meant once it was over, it was over, and Lovino had meant to break up with him. Instead he was phoning up over and over again – this was the fourth message this week – as if it would somehow get Lovino to come running back. Hah. As if that would ever happen. Lovino didn't want to go back to that stupid, oblivious, wonderful, annoying, idiotic bastard in the slightest. He was much happier going back to his normal, flirty ways. Where he had the freedom to do whatever the fuck he wanted. All by himself. No dumbass Spaniards to annoy him.

Bastard had the nerve to sound so sad too. Lovino was annoyed about that, too. It was like he genuinely missed Lovino's company, and he had to be faking that. Who would miss a grumpy, foul-mouthed, tomato-obsessed guy with a reputation for hurting people? And who'd actually want that person back in their life once they'd got rid of him? The fuck was Antonio playing at? He was making no sense, and refusing to let things just be left in the past. If he enjoyed their time together, he should just leave it in his brain as a bittersweet memory and leave it at that. Why wouldn't that bastard just leave him alone like he wanted? Lovino narrowed his eyes, aiming one fist at the wall and preparing to launch an anger-fuelled missile of destruction.

Suddenly, he paused, fists slowly unclenching as he realised just how angry he was getting. This was uncharacteristically strange. Why was he angry? Lovino had never gotten angry over a break-up before. What was so different about this one that it was causing him to want to punch walls? Yes, he was usually irritable, but this was more than that. This…this was rage, and it didn't have a definite direction. He wanted it to be at Antonio, but if he thought about it, it wasn't. It wanted to be…at himself. And he hadn't done anything to be so mad at himself.

He stared out of the window and out at the dull grey-blue sky with a scowl on his face, trying to make something of this strange and confusing anger. Usually he would just delete an ex's number from his phone and ignore all their calls with a smirk and a wave. He wouldn't care that they might occasionally try call him back, and he'd mindlessly ignore it if they did. But now…he was just angry. And it wasn't a normal sort of angry, like he was when he saw his brother with Ludwig. That made sense, that had a reason. At the moment, he wasn't sure at all why he was so enraged by Antonio asking him to call back.

Because I don't want him asking me to come back because I just might.

Lovino jolted as the words passed through his mind. The fuck, brain? I do not want that bastard back. He's just another guy. There's nothing special, or even good, about him, and I'm certainly not crawling back to him. Shut. The fuck. Up. …and now I'm arguing with myself. One of the first signs of insanity. And the last thing that's going to happen is me letting that bastard drive me insane. I'm not giving him the damn satisfaction. This is war now, and I'm going to win it.

He could easily see how he was going to win, if winning it could be called. In fact, he didn't even need to do anything except banish all these unwanted thoughts and emotions from his mind. It was so simple, it didn't even deserve to be called a plan. Lovino certainly had the self-control and stubbornness necessary to keep from answering anything to do with Antonio, even with all these annoying thoughts telling him otherwise. It was just a little guilt, he decided, nothing more. It was natural. And if he left it for long enough, it'd begin to fade. Eventually he'd just forget about it and everything would be fine.

Well, someone's not in denial in the slightest.

Relatively short chapter, this. But that's cos all my professor dudes have been like 'Pile on ALL the difficult work!' this week. Evil bastards.

Hang on in there, Toni. Until next time!