Hi! Apologies for the long delay in updates. Been busy (damn you exams) and getting attacked by fic ideas, especially Land Beyond Dreams, which is a fic I actually have an idea of where it's going in the end (and the only published one). Fun times. But unfortunately, due to a lack of ideas of where to lead this, updates will be slower than for other things for a while. I've got a couple backed up on my HD, but after that I need to put ideas in straight lines instead of the tangled web that it currently is. I'm rambling. /shot
In return, here are two chapters as one. Enjoy~
Since he was done unpacking, Lovino had decided to go and explore the house. was seriously impressed with the amount of rooms in this place. He'd seen some big houses before, and the one he used to live in hadn't exactly been small, but Kirkland Hall beat them without effort. Pretty much every room that needed to exist was here; an enormous two-storey library stocked with books of all kinds, a billiards room, a home cinema, even a grand ballroom complete with long buffet table and orchestra stage. It was a veritable palace, and Lovino felt envious that some people were just given this sort of luxury by being born to rich guys.
He padded down a long corridor at the right-hand side of the first floor, having just finished investigating the ballroom. Every wall in the place was decorated; either with paintings, ornaments or sculptures. A short distance later, he poked his head around the most recent door he'd found; a set of mahogany double doors labelled 'Music Room' in elegant brass letters. The room was almost completely dark, but after a second Lovino located the light switch and bright tubes flickered on across the room's ceiling.
Inside lay a paradise for almost any musician. A grand piano stood in front of sapphire velvet curtains to one side, spotless wood gleaming, with a large set of shelves of music against the wall. In a complete contrast, at the other end, a giant set of speakers loomed on either side of a hi-fi system, complete with long rows of CDs and LPs.
Lovino wandered over and flipped curiously through the titles. Led Zeppelin, Muse, Deep Purple, Black Sabbath, Bullet for my Valentine...he'd never heard of any of these bands. Arthur must have a strange taste in music.
Disinterested, he turned around and looked about the rest of the room. Half a dozen chairs were scattered about, most with a pile of sheet music on them. Past a drumkit and half a dozen electric guitars, lay an arrangement of more traditional instruments, most inside their velvet-lined black cases.
And right at the end of the line, outside its case, was a gleaming maple violin. Intrigued, Lovino picked it up and plucked gently at the strings, sending short notes reverberating around the room. It was a good quality instrument, that was obvious. He'd used to play, before everything got blown up, and had secretly enjoyed it. Both he and Feliciano were quite musical, although the elder sibling preferred to keep his talent quiet. Musicality didn't exactly suit the image he liked to project. The only people who knew were Romulus and Feliciano, and that was the way Lovino preferred to keep it. The fewer cracks in his shell, the better.
He glanced around tentatively, before picking up the bow and putting the instrument to his chin. Drawing the bow across the strings, he marvelled at the magnificent sound produced by the first-rate instrument. He closed his eyes and gradually became absorbed in the music he played. One song flowed seamlessly into another, from a Mozart waltz, to a Rossini aria, to Vivaldi's Four Seasons. The gentle tones of the melodies swept across the room, their beauty transporting him away to a world unknown to neither knew nor cared how much time had passed.
As the shimmering final notes of Winter died away, there was a sudden burst of quiet applause and a voice sounded behind him. "Lovi...that was truly beautiful. You never told me you played music." Antonio was sat on one of the chairs nearby, eyes shining.
Lovino nearly jumped out of his skin. "What the hell? How long have you been here, damn it?" He quickly put down the violin in a completely futile attempt to hide what he'd been doing.
"A fair while. I didn't say anything because I didn't want you to stop playing. It was brilliant."
Lovino averted his eyes, sure he was blushing. "No it wasn't. Shut up. Get lost."
Antonio stood up and crossed the room to stand in front of him. "You have a real talent there, Lovi. And that's saying something. I've known some really good musicians."
"Er...thanks...I guess.. Damn you," Lovino muttered, face now crimson. He wished the earth would crack in two and swallow him to save him from this humiliation. But somehow, he still felt ever so slightly happy at the praise.
"Uhwaa! Your face looks so cute, Lovi! Just like a tomato!~" Antonio couldn't help giving the embarrassed Italian a hug. "Aw!" Lovino froze in the embrace, unsure of how to react.
Antonio drew away and smiled broadly at Lovino. "Speaking of tomatoes, I was sent to find you twenty minutes ago, as Matthew said dinner would be in fifteen minutes. We're a little late, but it was worth it!~ Come on!" He took Lovino's hand before the Italian could protest and pulled him out of the room.
"Stupid tomato bastard," grumbled Lovino, still bright red. "I swear I'm gonna kill you."
Antonio laughed. "Course you are, Lovi. Course you are. Now let's get some dinner, shall we? The others'll be wondering where we've gotten to!~" He dragged the Italian down the corridor and towards the dining room.
The dining room was enormous; the long table easily seating the twelve with plenty of space left over. Like many of the others, the walls were dominated by large portraits, many of the subjects of which sharing the same large black eyebrows of the mansion's owner. Sculptures and floral displays lurked in the corners, casting long shadows from the light of the crystal chandeliers on the ceiling.
Matthew had introduced everybody to Kiku Honda, a quiet, polite Japanese man who was also helping Alfred. He had quickly inquired about their well-being, then bowed and retired to serve dinner. Apparently he had been designated cook ever since he, Alfred and Matthew had moved in with Arthur. No one had quite dared to ask why, although Francis had been hiding a derisive snigger behind his hand when the matter was brought up.
The group was now dressed – to the best of their ability – somewhat more formally for the occasion, from Francis' open-necked white shirt to Arthur's immaculate black five-piece suit, and the entire effect completed the feeling of grandeur.
But the atmosphere at the table was as dark as the evening sky outside. As soon as Arthur had entered, an awkward silence descended on the room, and the Englishman's face was a permanent glower. Even impulsive Gilbert and talkative Alfred were quiet. Matthew had made a weak attempt at conversation, but, being naturally restrained himself, it hadn't lasted long. Feliks was slightly intimidated by all the new faces and large rooms and kept up an apprehensive silence.
Kiku entered with the starters, setting a small plate of bacon and brie tartlets in front of each person. The food smelled delicious, and, although there was still no talking, the atmosphere relaxed slightly.
A few minutes later, Feliciano, who had been hungry through most of the afternoon, finished inhaling his tartlets and decided to work up the courage to talk. Everyone had been glaring and twitching for ages. It wouldn't be a very fun stay if everyone hated each other. "Ve.~ Those were delicious, Mr. Kiku.~"
The black-haired man blushed slightly at the praise. "Thank you very much, Feliciano-kun."
"You're welcome!~ Ve.~ This is a really beautiful house, Mr. Arthur. Grandpa says your family is famous."
Arthur coughed slightly. "That is a...slight exaggeration. In the past my ancestors have played their part, but I am by no means famous." He speared a piece of pastry with his fork and captured it neatly between his teeth.
"That's not what Grandpa said. Sir Iggy Kirkland was a hero or something!"
"A hero?" Alfred interjected, spraying crumbs across the table. "You want a hero, got one right here!" He jabbed a thumb at his chest and grinned, although his smile was somewhat marred by a mouthful of pastry.
"Swallow your food before talking, Alfred, you ill-mannered idiot," Arthur sighed, waving his now empty fork at the American. "My ancestors have been prominent historical figures, but, as I said, that is all past. I do not intend to carry on my family legacy in that way once this charade is over."
Francis set down his own knife and fork. "Ah, so you are intending on playing a part in our little adventure, once our problem has been explained fully?"
"Of course! I have no choice now that bloody idiot-" here he pointed at Alfred, "-dragged me into this. Which is why my house now appears to be base of operations." He looked a cross between annoyed and merited at this.
Kiku stood up and began to collect plates now everyone had finished eating, the fine china circles balanced effortlessly on one hand, then departed back through the door to the kitchen.
"You have to admit, this is a good place though," Romulus said. "If you've got a car, here's both secret and accessible. And although I don't know too much about this at the moment, secrecy is probably going to be a valuable feature."
"You don't know the half of it, dude," Alfred grinned. "We nearly got blown up the other night 'cos these dudes discovered where I live!" For some reason, he seemed proud of this, despite the fact that the incident had scared the life out of his brother.
Lovino yawned. "Why are these bastards trying to kill you anyway? What's their problem?"
Alfred waved a hand. "Long story, bro. Plus Artie'd get pissed if I started talking about warfare and that at the table. It's 'not dignified', apparently." He shot a toothpaste-advert grin at Arthur, who returned him a disapproving look.
At this point, Kiku returned with his arms stacked with half a dozen plates of smoked salmon and lemon risotto.
Alfred chortled. "Mind you don't drop those, dude! Kaboom! Mess ALL over the place. Hahahaha!" His loud laugh was a combination of infectious and annoying. Kiku merely smiled wryly and disappeared off to the kitchen again to fetch the rest of the meals.
For a minute there was silence again as everyone tucked appreciatively into the food. Lovino was pleased to get food that was both Italian and hadn't been stored during a week of travelling. Feliks hadn't experienced risotto before, but was willing to try, and, as before, found Kiku's cooking delicious. The Japanese man seemed to be able to adapt quickly to a variety of cuisines. Even Gilbird was pecking away happily at a small dish of rice.
"Heh. You guys are ousted now," Gilbert grinned. "I could live off this food."
Antonio laughed. "The point of food is that you do live off it, Gil."
"Shuddup! I was meaning it's awesome. You guys suck at cooking compared to this. Even Francis. Only wurst is better. Oh, and potatoes. And beer." Gilbert nodded resolutely and stuck another large forkful of food in his mouth.
"I am honoured," Kiku replied, attempting a bow, but being prevented by the table he was now sat at. "It is not often I have guests to cook for."
Arthur nodded in agreement. "It's not often I have guests to cater for, especially not so many."
"Having people over is great," Feliciano chimed in. "You get to show friends a great new side to you, and do stuff that you don't usually do. Sleepovers are even better!~ Once, me and my friends had a sleepover, and we all snuck out in our pyjamas and had a barbecue outside at midnight!~ But one of my friends knocked the tray and set my pyjamas on fire. It was pretty scary but I wasn't hurt.~"
"Bah, Feliciano, you don't half ramble," Lovino grumbled across the table at his brother.
"Play nice, Lovino," Romulus chided, grinning. Lovino scowled, but didn't dare oppose his grandfather.
Along the table, Matthew smiled. It was nice to have such company talking happily in a safe place, and he was happy just to listen as long as his brother wasn't making a scene. The small polar bear padding about his feet chewed contentedly on a piece of salmon, sharp teeth making short work of the salty fish.
Gilbert grinned and put down his fork. "Ya know, it really makes up for the week of outdoors, a place like this. Although, the awesome me bets we'll be on the move before too long. Asses to kick and all that crap."
"Yeah, but it's, like, hard to think about that when we dunno whose asses we're gonna be kicking," Feliks pointed out. "Or where we're going...wait...you said not to, like, talk about this now. Forgot that." Slightly embarrassed, he stopped talking and dropped his gaze. Once again, he was reminded why he preferred not to talk to people he didn't really know.
"You know, just a thought, Alfred," Antonio said cheerily, "it would probably be a good thing if we were to have at least some idea of what we're up against. You know, just to think a little about forward planning."
"Your opinions are of little or no value, Carriedo. This is my house, and we will discuss problems when I deem fit," Arthur intervened sharply, his voice unexpectedly cold.
Everyone jolted into an uncomfortable silence. Several pairs of eyes flitted between Antonio and Arthur like a championship ping-pong match. The tension returned, thick and sharp.
Antonio swallowed. "Very well. But I am rather tired now. I think I will go to bed. Thank you for the delicious meal, Kiku." His words were strained and forced, his expression taut, repressing anger. He quickly but quietly put down his cutlery on his yet unfinished plate and stood up. "Goodnight, everyone." With that, he departed silently from the room.
Lovino exchanged a worried look with Feliciano. Yet again there is something about this guy that appears as a mystery. he thought. Kidnapping, guns and now this. There is definitely a piece of this puzzle that I am missing. Mystified once more, he retreated into thought, a chill settling over his heart.
The atmosphere was strained following Antonio's sudden departure, and any further words spoken during the final course of dinner were hesitant and brief, in fear of sparking Arthur's displeasure again.
After dinner had finished Lovino knocked gently on Antonio's door, half wishing for an answer, half wishing he wasn't doing this. He was frightened of what Antonio might do or say, yet still curious as to why Arthur had snapped at him. "Hey, bastard. You in here?"
Upon hearing no reply, he poked his head into the room. The light was off, and darkness swathed the contents. Lovino stared, confused, and as his eyes adjusted Antonio's silhouette became visible against the glass of the window, motionless.
Lovino scowled and knocked again on the open door. "Oi. Hello? Tomato-jerk?"
Antonio remained impassive as a statue, either completely oblivious or deliberately ignoring Lovino. Which he wasn't too pleased about.
"Hey...Antonio? You ok?" Lovino was beginning to get worried.
"Please go, Lovi," Antonio replied quietly. His voice chillled Lovino; he'd never seen Antonio anything but happy before, and the change was unnerving.
Despite this, he walked slowly into the room. "You're not ok, are you? There's something between you and that rich jerk, isn't there? What's going on?"
Still not moving, Antonio replied in a monotone "There are things you neither know nor would understand. Just go, please, Lovi."
"You don't know I wouldn't understand them," Lovino retorted, annoyed. "Try me."
There was a short pause, and for a second, Lovino thought he had the Spaniard convinced. "No. You don't need to know. I don't want you caught up in this, Lovi." Lovino jolted. Antonio had said almost exactly the same thing before they had left, when he'd been listening in on their conversations. Not that he could admit that though.
"Caught up in what?" he asked, not expecting an answer.
Now Antonio turned. "Nothing. Leave, Lovino, please."
"No way," Lovino answered, stubborn as ever. "There's something bothering you and, to use your phrasing, it can help to talk about it."
Antonio crossed the dark room and placed his hands on Lovino's slim shoulders. "There are some things that can be spoken about, and some that can't. As far as you are concerned, it was a mere dispute that is now to be brushed under the rug, and you will not ask about it again." His face was hard and intense.
"Antonio...you're scaring me..." Lovino murmured weakly, his breath coming short as Antonio's grip tightened. He could feel traitorous tears welling in his eyes. Damn it! I can't cry here! "Let go..."
Antonio didn't; his shadowed green eyes kept boring into Lovino's frightened amber ones with the fiercest expression Lovino had seen. The shadows of the darkness on his face made him look like some kind of spectre, malicious and deadly. Lovino swallowed and held his breath, terrified, but afraid to show it.
Suddenly Antonio's grip slackened and his eyes grew wide. He backed off, stunned, breath coming in arrhythmic jumps. "I...I'm sorry, Lovi..." he whispered, voice cracking.
Relieved at his release, Lovino turned fast, ready to leave, when the back of his mind murmured; If I leave now, this will be a rift between us. I'll lose him forever, and he reluctantly stopped.
There was a soft flump behind him, and he turned back to see Antonio sat on the bed, head in hands. Even in the blackness, his despondency was clear. Lovino knew he couldn't bring himself to leave now. Something seemed to be stopping him from moving any further towards the door.
He cleared his throat nervously. "Er...It's not that bad, is it? You said there was nothing up with this fight of yours."
There was an uncomfortable silence. Eventually Antonio sighed. "It's not that that's bothering me now. I just turned on you. You were only looking out for me, and I hurt you."
"Whatever. I'd probably get pissed if someone kept badgering me," Lovino shrugged.
Antonio made a noise that sounded vaguely like a strangled laugh. "You did, Lovi. Remember?" He paused and sighed again. "Arthur and I...there is some past history to us. It was a while ago, but...let's just say we got in a bad fight, and haven't gotten on well since. I don't think he's best pleased that I came with Francis, and I always feel so uncomfortable around him. I had a feeling that this evening wouldn't pass without something like this arising. I'm sorry for taking out my anger on you. Can you forgive me?"
"'Course, you dumb bastard. That guy's a jerk anyway." Lovino flipped his hand dismissively, secretly glad that Antonio was slightly happier, and also less likely to flip out at him again. The new side to Antonio had been nothing short of scary.
Antonio stood up again and faced Lovino. Though it was hard to tell in the dark, there seemed to be a relieved smile on his face. He tilted his head and held his arms out expectantly to Lovino.
Lovino flinched, surprised, then reluctantly stepped forward into Antonio's embrace. If it'll shut him up, I'll humour him. But he kept his own arms by his side. He wasn't going quite that far yet, even though that annoying little voice was jumping around happily at the idea. The other's warm arms wrapped around him and pulled him close. Antonio's head leant against his own, pressing it gently against Antonio's shoulder. He could feel Antonio's heartbeat in his ear, going almost as fast as his own was.
His nervousness got the better of him after few seconds and he pulled away, cheeks flushed. A strange expression flickered momentarily across Antonio's face - was that disappointment? No. Couldn't be.
Lovino scratched one ear awkwardly. "Er, well. It's late. I'd better get to bed. We're discussing stuff properly tomorrow - after breakfast, at like, ten or something. Think you missed that after you left. Anyway, night." He broke eye contact and turned swiftly, too self-conscious even to swear.
"Goodnight, Lovi," Antonio said softly, still watching Lovino with a small gratified smile.
Lovino left quickly, not daring to look back, and shut the door behind himself. It wasn't until he reached his own room when he released the tension in his limbs with a relieved gasp and collapsed onto his bed. His mind felt almost frozen. What had just happened then?
One second I think he's going to kill me, the next he's depressed and wants a hug. Is he psycho, or have multiple personalities, or what? Shit...this is mad. And yet I still care if he's happy or not? I must be mad too. Damn it all. The sooner this is over, the better.
Yay for slightly!Yandere!Spain! Hehehe~ Him and Arthur don't get on.
PS: Arthur has awesome taste in musics. :D So does Lovi, actually. Vivaldi is epic.