Antonio
The following week was awkward. They still talked, still did everything the same as before, but it just felt...different.
Although, if anything involving their behavior had changed, it was from Lovino. He often avoided or refused Antonio's hugs, and shut off any signs of affection.
He was somewhat used to it, but it still made Antonio uncomfortable. He felt rejected and alone. Not that that wasn't very far from how he normally felt.
But Lovino's birthday was coming up. Antonio wanted to patch things up as best he could. He'd already been trying to brainstorm some ideas, but he was still clueless.
On any regular school day, Antonio came through the door, sweating from the intensifying California heat.
Wiping his forehead on his arm, he sighed and tiredly strolled into the living room.
As he was slipping his backpack off his shoulder and reaching his hand up to brush it through his hair, a gruff, accented voice broke through the air. A voice he recognized, but did not want to hear, ever again.
"Hola, hermano. How you been?"
Lovino
The day had been long and tiring. All he wanted was a class of cold lemonade and his music.
Sitting down at the dinner table, his Nonno walked in. This was a surprise, he usually wasn't home this early.
"Nonno?" He asked. "You're home early."
"Si, I wanted to talk to you boys. Where's Feli?"
"He's off in his room, talking on the phone."
"Alright. That's fine. Actually, Lovino, it's better I talk to you separately first." He sat, facing Lovino.
"What is it?" He answered under his breath.
"Well, how do I start?" He fumbled with the glass in his hands. "How do you like San Diego?"
"I like it just fine. It's a very wonderful city."
"That it is. Would you ever consider moving again?"
Lovino instantly knew where this conversation was headed. His stomach dropped and he began tapping his finger against the wooden table.
"I-I-I..." He wasn't prepared to answer. "I don't know."
Nonno's eyes darkened. "I see. I don't want to pressure you or anything. But, Lovino, as long as you and Feliciano are together, it doesn't matter where you are, understand? You two have to watch out for each other, despite the strange turns life can sometimes take." His gaze never faltered.
"Yes. I understand. I will always take care of Feliciano, you know that."
"Good," he smiled softly.
"Nonno, is there something you need to tell me," he blurted.
Another smile. "You're not a fool, Lovino. You know something is going on. I think I just...need some time to tell you."
"That's okay." Lovino concluded. He stood up, and took his lemonade to his room, where he got started on some very important math homework.
Antonio
"Henrique...I didn't realize you'd be coming back into this house," he spoke sourly.
"Ah, little Toni, I've told you many times to not call me by my middle name. You remember what happened last time you did, don't you? I believe that was a couple years back."
"Don't call me Toni." He growled.
"But you're my little brother, why not?" He pouted. "You hate being called Toni, I hate being called Henrique."
"So let's not call each other anything."
He stood from his seat. Antonio didn't want to face him. Not after everything he's done.
He still remembered those glaring pale green eyes, that only held malice and darkness. He remembered his booming voice, yelling. He remembered every inch of his cold hands that left so many bruises on his skin. He remembered everything, and he didn't want to.
Antonio finally gained the courage to meet his eyes, and when he did, he saw that grueling smile and the threatening way he carried himself. He had not changed.
It was too much to take in at first. The fact that his brother, his worst nightmare, was in the humble home he shared with his kind mother. He didn't want him here.
"Why are you here?" He asked with a hint of rudeness in his voice.
"What, you don't want me here, little Toni?" He grumbled. "I'm not the only one back in the house, you know."
Antonio remembered his mother, with the bouquet of roses. How she said that his father would be visiting soon. He didn't realize that meant his brother too.
"Where's Papi, then?" He looked down at his toes. He couldn't stare into those dead eyes for too long.
"He should be home soon. He's out with Teresa."
He hated how he referred to his own mother by her name. He hated how he treated her. He hated everything about him.
"Okay. I'll be in my room. Bye." He ran off, locking himself in.
Taking a deep breath, he considered all the options.
1) jump off a roof. 2) commit murder. 3) refuse to speak to anyone until that monster leaves his home. 4) get Lovino.
So he escaped through his window and ran down the street to Lovino's house. He didn't want anyone to know where he was, so he sneaked in his backyard and tapped on the window, hoping he was there and alone.
Miraculously, the window slid open and he was met with sparkling golden eyes.
"And what are you doing here?" Lovino asked in his usual grumpy manner.
"I need to talk to you about something." Antonio was breathing heavily from the adrenaline, and the short sprint to his house. Maybe he needed to exercise more often.
"Roof?"
"Sure."
Lovino slipped out the window and grabbed the ladder at the edge of the backyard. He propped it up against the house and they both climbed up.
They both sat, facing the pale blue sky.
"What happened?" Lovino stared him down.
"Well..." Antonio searched for the right way to word his sentences. "My dad is visiting," he began.
"That's good...right?"
"Sure. But um...my brother came back with him."
His eyebrows furrowed. "I'm assuming that's...not so good."
"Exactly. He um, well he's just not a very good person. And he's definitely not a person I want to live with. For any amount of time, whether it's a day or ten years. I don't want him in the same 50 mile radius as me."
"Why?" Lovino put his hand on Antonio's lap. "Do you want to tell me why you hate him so much?"
Antonio shifted uncomfortably. Did he really want to tell him? He needed to get it off his chest anyway. Why not?
"When I was little, maybe four, that was my first memory of him. I remember being sick, and that my parents weren't home. Only him. So I asked him for some soup. He took me into the kitchen and began to boil the water."
He stopped talking, and looked down at the green grass beneath his feet. He drew his lips into a thin line.
"Continue?" Lovino softly urged.
He nodded slowly. "When the water came to a boil, I think I said something about it taking too long, I don't know. So he took the boiling pot, and threw it at me. It hit my chest, and spilled all over my stomach and parts of my thighs. I still have scars. When my parents came home and asked what happened, he said he was trying to cook something for me and I came in, screaming and throwing a tantrum, and tried to throw it on him, but spilled it on myself instead."
All the other memories from his childhood threatened to break through. He struggled to keep everything contained.
"They believed him, of course. Up until I was about seven, he would push me around, hurt me, even beat me in some cases, and I was helpless to do anything about me. He controlled me. He completely owned me."
"I'm so sorry Antonio. Getting hurt like that...no one deserves it. You shouldn't have to go through those things."
Ignoring Lovino's sympathy, Antonio carried on. "That's not where it ends. When I was seven, he was around eighteen. My parents wanted to kick him out of the house. He didn't have a job, couldn't get into college, he was really frustrated. So, he would come into my room sometimes. And he would...harm me. But not like before. This time, it was more than just physical pain. Oh god, the trauma of being held down and forced into something no seven year old should even think about..." His voice was cracking now.
Lovino's face went pale and he struggled to find his breath as he realized how dreary the situation was.
"Then, after three years of that hell, he got arrested. Not for what he did to me, though. Apparently, I wasn't his only victim. He's just...disgusting."
Lovino kept his distance. Right now, maybe that's what he needed most. Distance. Physical comfort wasn't always the key to everything.
"Is there anything I can do, Antonio?" He murmured.
"Probably not. I just need someone to be there for me. Can you do that?"
"Of course. Every step of the way, right?"
"Right." He answered absentmindedly. "I don't want to go home tonight."
"Then don't. You have me."
"I don't know. I feel like such a burden."
He gave Antonio one of those gentle, heartwarming smiles. "You're never a burden, Antonio. Don't worry."
He smiled back, but it seemed forced. Antonio was visibly on the verge of tears.
Lovino ran his fingers through Antonio's hair and laid his head on his shoulder. "Cry it out. It's okay."
For the next ten minutes, that was exactly what he did.
Lovino
His mind was a blur and everything around him felt slow.
He just didn't really know how to feel about what Antonio told him. And the fact that Antonio seemed so comfortable and happy all the time, you'd never guess he'd lived through this.
When Antonio had about cried himself out, Lovino lifted away from their embrace. "Wanna go inside so I can bake you brownies and drink hot chocolate?"
He nodded numbly, then brushed his hair out of his face. He seemed to put away all the emotions that were stringing out of him only moments ago. How he did that, Lovino would never know.
So they climbed down the stairs and crawled back into the window. Lovino took him into the kitchen and made the hot chocolate. Antonio watched as he mixed all the ingredients together, and pouring the batter, putting it into the oven.
As they waited, they sat on the kitchen floor and Lovino stared into the brilliant green of Antonio's eyes and they just didn't really care about anyone or anything. Nothing mattered at that moment, just the hue of their eyes and the cold kitchen tile and the smell of the brownies slowly baking.
And together, they felt broken, but the good kind of broken. The type that would soon be molded into something newer, better. -
I want to rush to the happy part where everything is all dandelions and fluff and happiness but, patience patience. ;-;