Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.

Kicking the Bucket List

twelve

"Now I know what love is."
— Virgil

Okay. Keep calm, Feli.

There must be a perfectly good reason why fratello hasn't come home yet, right?

Right?!

So… j-just keep calm~!

Yes! Calm! Perfectly calm~!

E-Even though Lovi isn't picking up his phone.

Yep!

And even though Feli hasn't the slightest idea where Lovi is, either.

Oh, God.

Ohgodohgodohgodohgodohgod.

Where is he?!

He's been gone all night!

Feliciano fidgeted around the apartment, pacing back and forth in worry. He desperately tries to avoid letting his mind wander to worst-case scenarios.

Okay. Think, Feli, think.

Where could Lovi be? Whom could he be with?

He pores over it for several seconds.

...Bella.

Maybe Bella would know, right? Since she and Lovi are friends?

Thing is, Feli doesn't have the blond Belgian's number. Who would..?

He racked his mind for friends and acquaintances that could possibly have Bella's number. She was popular in high school, after all. Surely some of them, one of them, would have her number, right?

The Italian sent out a group message asking for someone to text him Bella's number.

Ding-dong~!

Ve~ A response already? That was quick~! He checks his phone and ends up crestfallen.

Nothing yet.

Ding-dong~!

He then realises that it's the doorbell ringing. "Ve~ Just a second~!" He calls out, striding over to the front door. He opens it to reveal a beaming Antonio.

"Buenos dias, Feli~!" The Spaniard greets, jovially giving him a bouquet of an assortment of flowers. "For you~."

"Grazie mille," says Feliciano distractedly. Reluctantly, he slips his phone into his pocket before taking the bouquet of flowers into his dainty hands. He steps back to let Antonio in. "Come in! Make yourself at home."

Antonio hesitantly steps inside the apartment, glancing around the apartment for any trace of the other twin.

Nothing, no projectile fists assaulting him, no curses. It's quiet.

(For a second, it's almost as if he wants to hear the older twin's voice breaking the silence.)

Feli strides into the kitchen, pulling a vase out of a cupboard and filling it with water before sedulously placing the flowers in it. He feels Toni's emerald eyes on him, eyeing him expectantly.

"I just—" Feliciano starts, only to come to an abrupt halt. He looks at the flowers, meticulously fixing them a bit as he takes a deep, shaky breath. "I'm kind of distracted right now."

"Eh? What's wrong?" Toni asks, concern lacing his tone.

"It's Lovi, he— he hasn't come home yet. I mean, he's been out since yesterday, and I have no idea where he is, or with whom, or where he could be—" Again, his train of thought breaks. He turns to face the Spaniard. "Say, do you happen to have Bella's number?"

"'Bella'?" Antonio echoes, confused. The name was familiar, but where had he heard it before?

"Si, si!" Confirms Feliciano, nodding his head. "Bella! The blond girl Lovi is always with. You have seen her, I think."

Unbeknownst to himself, Antonio grows rigid in realisation. "Oh. Si, I have seen her before. But I don't have her number. Lo siento,"

Feli waves him off, but there are undertones of panic seeping into his words, anyway. "Oh! No, it's fine. It's fine~! Perfectly fine~. Don't worry about it."

Suddenly, his visage brightens exponentially. Maybe big brother Francis has her number~! They were in the drama club together in high school, after all! With renewed strength and vigour, he pulls his phone out and begins to sift through his contacts. He immediately calls Francis and feels a bit better already~!

"Hello?"

"Ve~ Hi, big brother Francis~!"

Antonio glances up at the Italian, raising an inquisitive eyebrow. Feli catches his eye and beams, though Toni's heart fails to flutter the way it did before. Weird. Either way, he smiles back.

"Ah, hello, Feliciano! Antoine is already there, I assume?"

"Si, he is! I was just wondering if you happen to have Bella's number."

A few seconds of silence follows before Francis answers, "Ah, oui, I do have her number, mon petit Feliciano~" Following that, the Frenchman rattled off the Belgian's phone number, which Feliciano scrawled down on the notepad attached to the fridge via magnet. The latter gives Francis his thanks before hanging up.

Feliciano does this happy dance around the kitchen, which Antonio finds absolutely cute and adorable. "What's up?" He chirps, getting up from the couch to make his way over to Feliciano.

"I got Bella's number from big brother Francis~!" The latter says, opening the fridge and pulling a Tupperware box out. "Ve~ I baked these the other day with Luddy~ Try some!" He hands it over to the Spaniard, who graciously takes it in his hands.

"Of course I will!" Toni says, setting the box down on the counter and popping it open.

"Okay. This call will only take a second. Then we can go."

"Sure, sure! Take your time~" Toni reaches in and grabs a chocolate chip cookie out, biting into it. Sure enough, it tasted amazing.

Feliciano dials the number, holding the phone to his ear. His heart rate picks up in anticipation.

And, thankfully enough, within several seconds, Bella picked up the phone.

"Hello?" Bella whispers from her position on the floor. She was supposed to be in her bed, but somehow, she passed out on the floor beside it instead.

"Bella! Bella, Bella, Bella—" The aforementioned winces, holding the phone away from her at arm's length. Too loud. Too much falsetto. Her ears started ringing. Not good when you're on the verge of going through a hangover that had crawled out of the pits of tartarus.

"Oh, thank God— is Lovi there? Like, is he with you right now? Because he wasn't at home when I got back from dinner with my friends, and I tried calling him, but he wouldn't answer, and he hasn't come home yet, and I have no idea where he is, and I'm really, really worried!"

Her mind takes a moment to let the words sink in. Kinda. "Uh…" she starts, trying desperately to sit up despite her body's wishes to remain passed out on the floor. "Feli? 'S'at you?"

"Si!" The younger Vargas chirps, waaaay too early for… for whatever time it was!

"Too loud," she whines, her head pounding already. "Um, wait. Let me think."

A flurry of images seize her memory, with blanks here and there. Did she really… twerk on top of the pool table like that? She grimaces. Ugh, forget that. Now is not the time to drown in regret. Maybe later, but not now.

"Yeah." Bella answers, "Lovi; he's here. I'm sure of it, he, like, came with me, after all."

"Ve~ So what time will he get back home? Can I talk to him?"

"Look, Fel, I would love to drive him back home, but not right now. But, if you want, you can, like, pick him up from my place or something." The blond masks her eyes from the sunlight streaming into the room, trying hard not to doze off mid-confabulation as Feliciano spoke.

"Ve~ That'd be great! Where do you live?"

Bella forces herself to think and remember her home address and relays it to Feliciano.

"I'll be there as soon as possible~!"

"Yeah, you do that."

"See you in a few~!"

Then the brunette hangs up. A strangled sound between a sigh and a groan escapes her lips before she slumps back down on the floor.

The younger Vargas brother, elated because he finally knows where Lovi is, slipped his phone back into his pocket before turning to Antonio. "Ve~ Toni?"

Antonio turns to him, an eyebrow raised as he noms on another chocolate chip cookie. "Hm?"

"Um," Feli begins to fidget. "Would you mind if we pick Lovi up first? I'm sorry, mi dispiace, but I just— Lovi. I-It's Lovi."

"Of course not! I understand. Where's your hermano?" Toni says before taking a huge bite out of the cookie.

Feliciano heaves a huge sigh of relief. "Oh~. Lovi spent the night at Bella's house~!"

It was exactly at that moment when Antonio began to choke on the baked good.

The Spaniard's emerald eyes nearly popped out of his head as he started coughing bits of cookie out. He… He felt so— so very upset and hurt and angry all of a sudden! Lovino was interested in men, wasn't he? Feli had said so himself!

…Wait, what?

Why did Antonio even care about the other twin's sexual orientation?

And why did he have this urge to somehow defenestrate Bella of all people..?!

Feli rushes over to him, firmly patting his back and breaking his train of quasi-nonsensical thoughts altogether.

A minute later, Antonio manages to cough out a "Wow, that's great! I guess you don't have to worry about him anymore, huh?"

"Si, si!" Feliciano concurs, vehemently nodding his head. "Say, Toni, do you know how to drive?"

Antonio cocks an eyebrow up at this. "Si, I do. Why?"

"I was wondering if you could drive me over to Bella's? I would do it myself, but I don't have a driver's licence."

"You can drive without one though~!" Antonio says. "Just as long as you don't get caught. Ahahahaha~"

Feli smiles at him. "Ve~ If you say so~!"

Not ten minutes later, the Range Rover pulled over to the side of the road.

The passenger-side door opens, and a nauseous Antonio stumbles out, clutching his knees for dear life. A groan escapes his unusually pallid lips.

Feli hops out of the car, frowning at him. "Ve~ Are you okay? You look kinda pale!"

A raspy, breathless laugh escapes the Spaniard's lips. "Ahahahaha~ Yeah! Of course I am! J-Just— Just give me a minute, okay? Dios mio."

He then starts to dry heave. But after five minutes, he's good to go.

"Alright. I'm good, I'm good."

Just as Feli is about to clamber onto the driver's seat, Antonio shrieks out in protest. "NO! I'll drive! I'll drive! Please!"

Feli gives him a look, slightly nonplussed. "Okay then…"

It took them around thirty minutes to get to Bella's house, which was situated way across the other side of the city, where people raking in The Big Bucks lived.

Antonio drove past the gates that were left ajar and warily observed the catastrophic state of the mansion, his stomach churning at the prospect of seeing Lovino, but he wasn't sure if what he was feeling was either anticipation or dread.

They had gotten into a fight, after all… He gulped, his grip on the steering wheel tightening. He felt uneasy.

"Ve~ What happened here?" Feli found himself wondering out loud, peering out of the window. "It's like a tornado passed through!"

There were red cups, wrappers, and toilet paper everywhere, strewn all over the lawn in sporadic clumps. There were several deck chairs scattered around the place, an empty beer keg haphazardly left on the front porch.

Antonio rolls up to the front door and turns the ignition off. Feliciano calls Bella as he undos his seatbelt. This time, the blond took a little longer to answer, but did so nonetheless. "Yeah?" Came the Belgian's fatigued greeting.

"Bella, we're here~!"

"Ah, yeah. Sure. Wait, let me just—" a laboured groan escapes her lips. "—get up and I'll go… see you at the front of the house or something, mkai?"

"Sure~!"

And she hangs up.

Antonio gets out of the car so he can open the door for Feliciano. Bella soon appears at the front door after about a minute or so, her ensemble practically screaming 'nightclub'.

"Hey," she whispers, voice raspy and laced with sleep. She slowly walks over to them as Feliciano hurriedly gets out, giving the blond a warm hug.

"Ve~ Hi, Bella!"

"Yeah." She blinks a couple of times before her icy green eyes come into focus and land on the Spaniard from yesterday. Her eyes grow even icier. "You." She says, hostility evident in her tone.

Antonio can't help but smirk at her. "Hola."

She looks as if she's about to question the Spaniard's presence, but instead opts to stay silent. Feliciano pulls away so she can lead them into the (currently not-so) grand manor.

"Sorry for the mess," she mumbles, kicking an empty beer can away. "I threw this really wild party last night and it was, like, so fun. But it was kinda too wild, I think. Ish." She throws her hands up. "Whatevs. Let's go look for Lovi."

So, indeed, the trio go 'Lovino Hunting', trying to pick him out of the rest of the people that had decided to crash at Bella's house.

"Lovi~? Lovi, are you there?" Feliciano asks, peering into a giant wooden chest. Bella's dad got it from some auction once. It was very old. It was also very empty.

Bella gave him a weirded-out look.

Antonio opted to stay back and stare, transfixed, at the pigsty that was and is Bella Janssens' house. And maybe gawk at the poor kid taped to the wall. Dios mio.

He briefly performs the sign of the cross before following the brunette and the blond into what seemed to be the living room.

The latter pulls the phone out of the pocket of her daisy dukes, realising that she could've called him all along. Why didn't she think of it sooner?

Somewhere near the corner of the room, a phone begins to vibrate. She hurries over to it, Feliciano hot on her heels. Bella scrunches her eyebrows together, finding Lovino's jeans thrown over a lampshade.

"I found his pants." She says, voice a little more louder than earlier. She ends the call, grabbing the black jeans and handing it over to Feli. "Maybe we'll find him near it."

Antonio's eyes can't help but widen. So… Somewhere in this house, Lovi isn't wearing any pants? A bit of red dusts his sun-kissed cheeks at the thought.

After scouring the living room for Lovino's whereabouts, they find the room void of his presence. They then move to the kitchen, to the dining room, to all the other areas of the house. But he isn't in any of them.

Then they head upstairs and look through the rooms, oft discovering one too many unsightly 'surprises' within. God. Haven't they ever listened to I Write Sins, Not Tragedies before?

'Haven't you people ever heard of closing the goddamn door?'

No one wants to see that shit, bro.

Their 'Lovino Hunting' had proven futile thus far. Bella ran a hand through her matter hair out of frustration. Then she whimpered, because that, like, hurt a lot. How many bottles of conditioner would she have to use later just to get those pesky tangles out?! Ugh.

Anyways, where the holy heck could he be?! He couldn't have left, right?

Haha. Left, right.

But now is not the time for digressing.

Obviously, this means that there can only be one more place he could be in, if he hadn't left.

"…You mean to say that Lovi is passed out outside?" Feliciano asks, amber eyes wide in disbelief.

"That's what I said! Like, where else could he be, right?" Bella replies, slowly walking down the stairs. Her legs still felt like Jell-O, okay? "He isn't in the house, now, is he?"

They started from the front of the house, taking a good look in the bushes and gazebo. When they finally reached the back of the manor— which took them a long ass time, by the way—Bella finally, finally found the ever-elusive Italian.

Lovino.

There he was.

In his natural habitat.

Passed out in the bushes, clad in naught but his boxers, a yellow Spongebob necktie, and a white faux fur coat befitting a pimp. One arm was curled up around an armful of branches in a protective embrace as his other arm lay limp beside his person.

Glorious.

Bella snorts at the sight, making her way over to him. "Lovi? Lovi," she says, nudging his leg with her foot. She nudged him a bit more harder.

Lovino was out like a light.

"Guys," she calls out to Feliciano and Antonio, her voice cracking at the end. She inwardly winces. "I found him."

She then wondered why Lovi was cuddling a bunch of sticks.

Alcohol does really weird stuff to people, huh?

Immediately, the two rush over; Bella automatically gives them ample berth to pass through and assess Lovino's, er, condition themselves.

The Spaniard stepped forward and couldn't help but feel something heady crash down upon him all of a sudden. For the nth time around the enigmatic older twin, he found it hard to breathe.

Antonio's eyes couldn't help but glide down Lovino's half-naked form, over the Vargas' smooth, firm stomach and down to the red plaid boxers that were riding oh-so dangerously low on the Italian's slender hips, his hipbones jutting out and creating an enticing gap wide enough for a hand to slip through…

He didn't know why, but he wanted so badly, oh-so badly to run his hands up and down Lovino's sides before settling on those tantalising hipbones.

The Italian's torso was a blank canvas, a few shades off of pure snow. In a way, they were absolutely begging to be marked, be it with love marks or tattoos.

Antonio's head spun, discombobulated with the onslaught of thoughts he didn't know what to think of— he didn't even know where they came from. His cheeks were reddening, so he forced himself to turn away.

It got a little bit easier to breathe, but only by a fraction.

Feliciano knelt down beside his brother, lightly slapping the older's face. "Ve~ Fratello, wake up~! Rise and shine, Lovi!"

The other twin did not stir; not one bit.

He really was out like a light~!

Ve~ This is going to be a problem, isn't it?

"Okay, so how do we get fratello into the car? He won't wake up!" Feliciano asks no one in particular. He gets on his knees and tries to lift him up, grunting at how heavy the other is, before inadvertently letting go. The beloved pile of sticks falls to the ground as his head unceremoniously thunked against the soft grass.

Bella shrieked.

Just as Feli rolls his sleeves up, adamant on trying again, Bella cuts in, freaking out. "Feli, no! Wait!"

Feliciano glances up at her inquisitively.

She grimaces sheepishly, "Look, I don't think that's a good idea. You might drop him again. You wouldn't want that to happen, would you?"

Pouting slightly, the younger twin slowly shook his head. "Th-then… What should we do?"

Bella sits beside Lovino's unconscious body, gently running her hand through his sweaty brown locks. "Uh… To be honest, I don't even know. Maybe wait for him to wake up or something?"

Antonio glowered at the intimate gesture, his person practically radiating hostility.

"Ve~ But Toni and I have something to do today!" Feliciano whines, expression distraught. Suddenly, his face brightens. "Ooh! Ooh! I have an idea!" He turns to Antonio, who quickly snaps out of his trance and beams at the younger Italian. "Toni, you can help us carry Lovi to the car!"

Two pairs of green eyes promptly widened at the proposition. Bella regarded the Spaniard suspiciously. Ugh, this guy has 'BAD NEWS' written all over him!

Just as Antonio is about to assent the proposition, Bella cuts in, crossing her arms over her chest. "I think that's a bad idea."

Antonio and Bella's eyes meet—both narrowed—and their hackles are raised.

"Why?" Asks Feliciano.

"He might drop Lovi. On purpose. Like, hello, they got into a fistfight yesterday. There is no way he isn't going to try and get back at Lovi. I'm just looking out for him!"

"Yeah, well, I wont~!" Antonio exclaims, walking over to the dozing Italian.

"Come on, Fel, I'll bring him home myself. You have nothing to worry about."

"B-But I want to take Lovi home already!" Argues Feliciano. "And we're already here!"

Touché.

Bella begrudgingly contemplates it for a few seconds before a burdened sigh escapes her lips. "Alright. Fine. But just so you know?" She gives the Spaniard a warning glare. "You drop Lovi and I will so kick your ass."

"Don't worry~!" Feliciano chirps, voice saccharine yet it contained undertones of warning (threat). "He won't~."

Bella stood up and stepped back.

Antonio resolutely nodded, getting down on his knees so he could pick Lovino up properly. His face had started to heat up, his heart rapidly pounding against his ribcage. Licking his lips, he slowly glances up at Lovino and is immediately hit with a pang of guilt upon seeing discoloured skin mottling the Italian's sun-kissed cheeks.

…O-Oh, God.

He did that.

His throat constricts, trying to force the thoughts to go away, but the guilt doesn't leave him. Instead, he tries to focus on the task at hand. Carefully, oh-so carefully, he scoops Lovino into his arms, his breath hitching as he brought the other closer to his body. The moment their skin comes in contact, it's like every touch sets his skin on fire, yet Lovino's body is so comfortably warm.

Antonio can feel his cheeks warming up as he manages to stand up. Lovino's lighter than he expected. He adjusts his grip on the Italian, pulling him closer to his chest. He doesn't stir.

"Be careful," Feli says, yet it's as if he's far away. His voice is too faint for Antonio to comprehend. All he can focus on is Lovino.

He walks into the house through the backdoor, passes through the kitchen, and goes out through the front, careful not to drop the boy in his arms. The entire time, Feli and Bella were following closely behind them, which was just as well, because every so often, Antonio's eyes would flicker down to the Italian in his arms, unhearing and unresponsive; in a daze.

He felt regret and nervousness gnawing at him as they fast approached the car. His steps slowed down as he grew reluctant to let the older Vargas go.

Before he knows it, Feliciano goes ahead and opens the backdoor to the parked car. Antonio bites his bottom lip, shifting Lovino a bit as he tries to discern how to get him into the car without bumping his head into anything. That'd wouldn't be nice.

He hesitantly shifts to the side, getting both of them in the car sideways. With one knee down on the seat, he gently lays the Italian down, nearly straddling the boy.

It's like time has slowed down to a halt.

Antonio doesn't register anything around him other than the Italian in front of him. His heart skips a beat as he leans in closer 'til he can feel Lovino's faint breaths mingling with his, fixing his sleeping position lest his neck aches when he wakes up.

Discreetly, the Spaniard ghosts the tips of his fingers over the contusions on Lovino's cheek, his jaw. His skin is soft. The bruises must've made his skin more tender.

Somehow, the gets a grip on himself when his mind begins screaming at him that he's lingered for too long. It rolls over him like a heat wave; he suddenly feels dizzy. His mind is spinning, he's short of breath.

He quickly pulls back, the nerves on the surface of his skin tingling, as if kindled into a roaring fire that blazed every graze of Lovino's skin onto— no, into— his.

He exits the car backwards, his breaths coming out in short pants. Bella and Feliciano don't notice; they're busy talking.

The Spaniard gets into the driver's seat, staring at Lovino's sleeping form through the rearview mirror with hazy green eyes.

"Lovino," he mutters under his breath. He quickly glances out of the window. The other two are still talking.

"Lovino," he says again, a bit more louder. The Italian still does not stir.

He decides he likes the way Lovino's name rolls off his tongue.

Back at the Vargas brothers' apartment, Antonio had the prospect of carrying Lovino back up to his apartment and to the safety of his bed.

Lovino's bedroom is somewhat messy, but it's an organised type of chaos. Feliciano is in the kitchen, intent on getting medicine for his brother's recuperation when he wakes up. He had also tugged the pimp coat and necktie off of his brother in favour of the soft duvet.

Antonio was left in the hall, emerald eyes alternating between the sweet, cute Italian bustling around the kitchen and his truculent, bewildering older brother passed out in the bedroom.

Feli quickly sets some pills and a bottle of water atop Lovi's bedside table before returning to Toni, closing the bedroom door behind him. "Ve~ Sorry if I took too long~. Let's go!"

The Spaniard, once again broken out of his trance, immediately nods and exits the apartment with Feliciano.

Lovino had awoken sometime in the afternoon. Everything hurt. His head was absolutely pounding; it was like someone decided to use a potato cannon on his head for target practice, point-blank. His mind was already spinning and he hadn't even opened his eyes yet.

He was forced to, however, once the nausea finally caught up to him and hit him like a potato to the face. Despite his body's protests, he shot up from the bed nonetheless and ran to the bathroom as quickly as his stumbling feet could take him.

It was a relief that he found the toilet just in time. He sunk to his knees, gripping the rim of the toilet and retching his stomach's contents into it. His knees ached and throbbed at the sudden contact with the cold, hard tile, but he couldn't find it in himself to care. Not when he was puking his guts out.

The sound of his vomiting reverberated throughout the bathroom's tiled walls. Before he could even register it, footfalls were fast approaching his bedroom. Someone came in.

"Oh, no— Lovi!" Feliciano exclaimed, his voice a painful, shrilly treble to the over-sensitive ears of his older brother. He began to rub circles onto Lovino's naked back. "Oh, God. It's okay. It's okay. Everything will be okay."

Several minutes of praying to the porcelain god had passed. Lovino began to spit out the rest of the sour, rancid taste the sick left on his tongue, his sickly pallor betrayed by the burning of his cheeks due to a mix of both embarrassment and shame. He was left gasping for air as the waves of nausea slowly lapsed into mild discomfort.

"Lovi," Feliciano starts, hesitantly; quietly— as if he were afraid Lovino would break or spontaneously combust at any moment. He— the latter— hated it. Then again, he hated nearly everything. "A-Are… Are you okay?"

What a stupid question.

The older Vargas, gripping onto the porcelain throne for dear life, could only give a terse shake of the head as he slumped back, his head painfully hitting the wall behind him. Fuck, that hurt like shit.

Feliciano knelt down beside his disgrace of a brother, helping him sit up more properly.

Lovino grimaced, dry heaving the nauseousness away. "God," he panted out, his temples throbbing in pain. His throat was dry as hell. It hurt to talk, but he did, anyway. "I am fucking hungover. What do you think, Sherlock?"

Fucking hell. Just how much did he drink last night..? How the holy hell did he end up back at home?!

It hurt to think.

Thinking sucks.

F-Fuck.

"Do you want to take a shower first, Lovi?" The younger twin asks.

After a second of contemplation, he slowly shook his head once— too fast or too much would send his mind spinning once more.

Lovino catches on quickly. He could literally smell himself. The scent of sweat and alcohol clung to his skin like a neurotic ex-lover. It sure as fuck wasn't a very nice combination, to say the least.

He manages to scrape himself off of the floor and he flushes the toilet twice. He decides to name it The Flush of Shame. He rinses his mouth out by the sink before the younger Vargas helps him back to the bed, where Lovino is content to crawl into his duvet cocoon and sleep forever.

"Ve~ You really had me worried, fratello," Feliciano softly says, getting into bed with him. The older twin suddenly stiffens at the unexpected physical contact before going lax with exhaustion.

He says nothing in response.

There was no need for one.

Feli flings his arm over Lovi's waist as he hugs him from behind. "I'm sorry, Lovi," he whispers into Lovino's skin, giving it a chaste, apologetic kiss. "For all the things I said yesterday."

The latter murmurs something along the lines of 'mkjshfhjskjdl'. Feliciano can't understand a word of it, but the feeling of the vibrations from his brother's back as he spoke upon his cheek comforts him. At least Lovi was back at home, safe and sound, si?

It's seven in the evening when Lovino wakes up again. The room is dark and the room is so sweltering hot, the sheets are practically suffocating him, clinging to his sweaty skin. He needs to breathe.

His muscles ache and his skin tingled with hyper-sensitivity. He winced, throwing the duvet off of him, post-haste. Forcing himself to sit up lest he double up and throw up, he cradles his head in his trembling hands.

What… What the fuck happened last night?

A groan escapes his lips, vague images from last night creeping up the back of his mind, but he still couldn't exactly remember anything concrete other than the fact that: a.) he got really fucking wasted and b.) he got to smoke weed for the first time.

He could only hope that he didn't do anything too stupid.

Lovino tentatively gets out of bed and into the shower. He really needed a shower and badly. Yuck.

After a good thirty minutes of standing under the warm water, lost in his thoughts, he uses five more to actually bathe before getting out. He changes into something clean and he feels somewhat better. Somewhat.

Lovino spots the painkillers and the glass of water by his bedside table and inwardly thanks his fratello, downing the two pills in one go.

He still feels like shit, though. His head ached, but, honestly, he's had worse.

Way worse.

Like that one time he and Feliciano were at some brat's shitty party and he was standing a tad too near the piñata.

Let's just say that he avoids baseball with a fiery passion and let's leave it at that.

The brunette pulls the bucket list out of his bedside table's drawer and hazel eyes skim the list. He then shoves it into the pocket of his jeans so he can make himself a hangover cure.

The TV is on; he can see Feliciano sitting on the couch watching Adventure Time. His eyes narrow in confusion. That was odd. Feli is rarely ever home on the weekends, much less on Saturday nights.

"What're you doing here?" Lovino blurts out.

Immediately, Feliciano turns to look at him before getting off the couch. "Ve~ You're awake!"

Just as the younger twin goes in for a hug, the older step back, hands defensively raised up in front of him. "Why are you here?"

His fratellino, dejected, pouts at him. "Why not? I live here."

Lovino resists the urge to facepalm, opting to give his twin an incredulous look. "No, like, why are you here? It's a Saturday night, dammit. You're never home on Saturday nights. How the hell did I end up back here, anyway? You know what? Whatever. I don't give a shit. You could've dragged me back here for all I care."

He shuffles over to the kitchen, rummaging through the liquor cabinets for vodka.

"Drinking again, fratello?" Feli asks.

"No." Answers Lovino, grabbing a carton of tomato juice and a small bottle of Tabasco hot sauce out of the fridge. "I'm making a Bloody Mary, dammit— now leave me alone!"

"Lovi, mi dispiace!" The younger twin apologised, his guilt a leaden weight in the pit of his stomach. "What I said, it was in the heat of the moment. Please forgive me?"

The older Vargas stared at him evenly, mild annoyance hidden within the depths of his hazel eyes. They had a stare-off that lasted several seconds before Lovino looked away, scoffing. "Tch, whatever, bastard."

Feliciano hugs him. And, reluctantly, Lovino hugs back.

In the comfort of his bedroom later that evening, Lovino ticked the box beside Try smoking weed (YOLO?) and stared at it for one second, two seconds.

It had lapsed into nearly a full minute when Lovino decided that he didn't know what or how to feel. Like, he crossed something off his freaking bucket list. Shouldn't he feel accomplished or something? Then again, with his shitty hangover added into the mix, he certainly wasn't getting any 'fuck yeah' vibes at the moment.

And there it goes again with the quasi-okayishness; constantly reeling him out, only to push him back in the recesses of his mind's innermost workings.

He slowly, languidly sipped on his drink, all the whilst pulling his Moleskine notebook out of his backpack; his 'journal' to-be for Creative Writing class. He hadn't written much yet. And by 'much', he meant that he hadn't written anything in it yet at all.

B-But... now would be a good time to start, si?

He set the tall glass down on his desk, cracking the notebook open and running the tips of his fingers over the smooth paper. He holds a page between his fingers, already knowing it was of high quality. The Italian reached into his backpack and pulled out a pen. The moment he tried to commit his thoughts to paper, he found himself blanking out.

It's funny how your mind just blanks out the moment its supposed to write out what it feels, or what it's thinking.

His eyes narrowed, thinking of something to fill the blank space with.

And so, he began to write.

I really don't know what to do.

What do I even write about?

Okay. How about this:

Dear Diary~
Last night, I got really, really DRUNK and I now have a hangover from the depths of hell. I'm not kidding. I feel like banging my head against the wall until I pass out, slip into a coma, and never wake up again. Yep. Pure fun.

I am NEVER drinking that much ever again. Which is a lie. I'm even drinking NOW.

I got into an argument with my brother yesterday. Maybe that's why I decided to get drunk off my ass. But #YOLO, right?

When in doubt, #YOLO

When about to commit a felon, #YOLO

When about to do something you will inevitably regret, #YOLO

Amazing, isn't it? It's like the quintessential excuse of the 21st century.

What a time to be alive.

But I still feel like shit about it though tbh smfh

Lovino pulls away to examine what he's written, only to grimace. Goddammit, can't he write anything better than this?

How does he really feel, dammit?

Just fucking write it out already.

And so he does.

It's funny how people can quickly change how you feel with words. Depending on who they are and what they mean to you, the words they say can make or break your day/week/life. That is the power of words. "Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me" is a stupid lie because the effect and power of words on people can cause scars that hurt more than any physical wound can bring.

But that's just me.

Meanwhile, Antonio was in the midst of derping around on Facebook— well, at least he planned to—in the living room of the apartment he shared with his two best friends.

Gilbert was in the kitchen, making himself an 'awesome sandwich'; Francis was out and about somewhere.

"How was your date with Feli-cakes? Was it awesome?" Gilbert asks, placing his impressively stacked sandwich on the coffee table with one hand, nursing a beer in the other.

A nervous laugh escapes Antonio's lips. "Ahaha~ It was great! Amazing!"

"I need the deets, dude. What'd Lovino say when you showed up? Gott, I'll bet he threw a huge bitch fit! Kesesesesesese!"

"Um, right! About that," Antonio logs into Facebook. He looked sheepish. "Lovino, he; he wasn't at home, so..."

The page loads. He ignores all his notifications and types Lovino's name into the search bar; hits 'Enter'.

"Well," he glances up at Gilbert for a second before his eyes flicker back down to the screen. It's still loading, so he meets the self-proclaimed Prussian's eyes again. "Y-Yeah~. He wasn't there. So Feli got worried, si? So he called Franny and asked him for Bella's number."

He glances back down. The screen has loaded. His breath hitches upon seeing Lovino's face on his screen.

"Um..." He scrolls down and clicks on Lovino's profile picture. It's a selfie with Feliciano, who is also the one who took the picture. Lovino looks considerably younger, with chubbier cheeks that looked absolutely enticing to pinch. He can't help but smile. "Just a sec, I'm thinking~. Ahaha~"

Lovino doesn't have any statuses made public, but he can see the posts Feliciano's tagged him with because Toni has him as a mutual friend. There are also a lot of pictures Lovino is tagged in, probably from the party he went to last night, thanks to Elizabeta, whose posts are always set to public.

He slowly scrolls down Lovino's wall, catching a glimpse of the Italian's face. He quickly scrolls up, his cheeks tinged a subtle red. "Yeah~! So, where was I? Right~. So Feli gets Bella's number from Franny and..." he scrolls down again. He feels like melting; Lovino's actually smiling in this picture. Granted, his sclerae are unusually red, but still.

Dios mio, it shouldn't be legal for anyone to look that good smiling— wait, what?

"...Feli called her. She said Lovino was at her house, so Feli wanted to pick him up and I went with him."

He discreetly saves the image onto his laptop. The Spaniard scrolls down a bit more and he sees a picture of Lovino dancing in the middle of the dance floor, sandwiched between two scantily-dressed girls, who are clinging to him like he's their lifeline. Their hair is splayed out in an almost artsy fashion. Antonio's insides churn in burning, seething jealousy.

"Toni. You're stalking Lovino? Really?" Gilbert asks, disbelief and disapproval evident in his tone from behind Antonio. The latter jumps in surprise, instinctively turning the laptop away.

"It's not what you think!" Antonio exclaims. "I was just, ah, considering adding him as a friend or something!"

"Are you kidding me? After what happened yesterday? There's no way in hell he'd ever add you." Gilbert leant down and peered at Lovino's profile. The Shift was happening sooner than he and Francis expected, but he tries not to think about that too much. "But try anyway! It's not like you have anything to lose! Kesesesese~"

With that, Antonio reluctantly clicks on 'Add Friend'.

Later that night, Feliciano remembered to give Lovino back his cellphone, so the latter decided to check his Facebook. He's always logged in, even if he seldom uses his account. To his surprise, there were a lot of notifications, messages and friend requests.

W-What the fuck..?

He pressed on the notifications button and gawked at what came up.

'Lisbeth Hedervary tagged you in 119 photos'.

'Lisbeth Hedervary tagged you in a video'.

'Bella Janssens tagged you in a post'.

In complete and utter mortification, he forced himself to press the first one. A status by Elizabeta came up about the party at Bella's house yesterday, with him as the fucking center of attention in those photos.

He felt like he was having a stroke.

Dio mio.

He sifted through the pictures in horror, though thankful nobody had commented on the derpier-looking photos of him. Dear God, some of these pictures of him were so terrible, you could practically make fucking memes out of them.

Hesitantly, he decides to play the video Elizabeta tagged him in.

Well, shit.

SHIT.

His jaw dropped in shock. In the video, he was half-naked, krumping wildly and inadvertently hitting other peoples' faces. Annoyed, they gave him a wide space to freely krump around in.

...Holy fucking shit.

He facepalmed himself in disbelief, feeling a migraine coming; shit is embarrassing as fuck.

He decides to check his friend requests before he succumbs to inspecting each and every post he's been tagged in.

His eyes narrow at the first one.

'Antonio Fernandez-Carriedo'.

The fucking nerve of that jerk!

Licking his lips, a small smirk tugs at the corner of Lovino's lips as he decides to post something directed to the Spaniard, the status set to public.

real eyes
realise
that ur a lil bitch

He felt nefarious already.

Translations:
fratello - brother (It.)
buenos dias - good morning (Esp.)
grazie mille - thank you very much (It.)
si - yes (It./Esp.)
lo siento - I'm sorry (Esp.)
oui - yes (Fr.)
mon petit Feliciano - my little Feliciano (Fr.)
hermano - brother (Esp.)
Dios mio - oh my God (Esp.)
hola - hello (Esp.)
fratellino - younger brother (It.)
mi dispiace - I'm sorry (It.)
Gott - God (Dt.)
Dio mio - oh my God (It.)

Sooooo sorry for the delayed update! I had two baby theses to assess, as well as other academically-related things. It kinda sucked my brain juice dry tbh #collegelyfe

Thank you for all the reviews~! I AM A HAPPY DONUT

But tbh it kinda threw me off because I'm scared to disappoint you all now /slapped

Thankfully, I kinda got over that :D Ish.

Hope you enjoyed this chapter~! Please review~!

Feel free to give me concrit. Was Toni in-character? Was Lovi? How about everyone else?

~jellydonut16~

P.S. heads-up: this story will obviously have some depressing themes; so when the going gets tough(er), I'll start putting up trigger warnings before the start of every chapter.

P.P.S. Ah~ pseudo-pervert!Antonio. One of the many reasons why this fic is rated M.