Antonio felt guilty for not telling Lovino. It was the right thing to do, but he just couldn't bring himself to do it.

Telling him is better than not telling him, he told himself, but still. It was hard. And Antonio had a tendency to procrastinate.

It was just a three-year ban from America, or travel of any kind, really. His passport had been revoked and all, so there wasn't anything Antonio could do.

Except tell him, a voice at the back of his mind urged.

No. Not now. He's sick now. Later, he reprimanded himself. He'd do it later. Tomorrow, maybe.

Thinking about Emma made it easier to envision leaving, because at least there'd be something good waiting for him when he got back. That's why he had to work his hardest to not fall for Lovino during his stay.

But the task he had set for himself seemed almost impossible, when Lovino was barely a couple feet away from him on the other end of the couch, every movement he made reverberating in the springs so that Antonio could feel it too. His hands were probably picking at the lint balls stuck to the fabric of the couch right now, under that gray blanket, feet fidgeting nervously. Every couple of minutes he'd glance up at Antonio, see that he was watching him, flush, and direct his eyes back down to his feet. The whole ritual was so ridiculously adorable that it made Antonio's chest hurt, as if he were the one with pneumonia.

"How you feeling?" he asked, breaking the silence with unease.

"Alright." Lovino looked away. "My head hurts."

"I'm sorry," said Antonio, though it wasn't his fault. "Do you want some aspirin?"

"Just some more wine."

"No way." Lovino began to head off the couch, but Antonio grabbed his wrist and pulled him back down.

"That's the last thing you need right now," he said. He picked the carrot up again and forced it into Lovino's hand. "Eat your carrot," he commanded.

"I don't wanna," complained Lovino, but he took another bite anyway, glaring at Antonio pointedly as he chewed, making it as loud and wet as possible just to annoy him. He didn't mind, however. Anything to distract himself from the fact that he still owed his friend the truth, and that he didn't really know what the truth was, at this point.

Did he really like Lovino in… that way? And even if he did, even if he admitted it to himself, what would change? He'd still have to leave. It would only make the inevitable more painful for both of them.

Best to bottle up whatever feelings he may have to avoid any possible pain that may come.

"Lovi?" Antonio knocked on the door to his room. "I'm coming in." When no response was heard, Antonio warily turned the knob and opened the door a slit. Lovino was curled up on his mattress, swaddled in his gray blanket facing the wall. Antonio couldn't tell whether he was awake or asleep and so trod carefully, closing the door silently behind him so as not to wake him.

His bare toes connected with the filthy floor, staining the bottoms of his feet a dirty brown. Disgusted, Antonio lifted his foot and attempted to brush it off before placing it back on the ground again. As he put weight on his right foot, beginning to walk, something pierced the skin and sunk into his flesh.

Antonio bellowed in pain, lifting his foot once more, desperately trying to see what he had stepped on, but just succeeded in overbalancing and falling over. He closed his eyes as the hard floor collided with his skull. When he opened them, Lovino was standing over him.

"Y-You're awake," Antonio managed to say.

"Unfortunately." He squatted down and grabbed Antonio's right ankle, bringing the foot to his face for inspection. Suddenly, without warning, he reached forward and with one smooth, quick stroke, pulled whatever had stabbed him out of his foot. Antonio was too shocked to even cry out.

Silently Lovino tossed the offending object at Antonio, pulled the blanket around himself, and rolled back into his bed, facing the wall.

Antonio picked the object up off his chest where it had fallen. It was a shard of a broken CD, one end covered in a light film of blood. He sat up, seeing with difficulty in the dim room the rest of the CD, broken into tiny pieces and scattered all around the room. He couldn't even see the actual floor; trash, debris, and dirty clothes covered it like a blanket.

"You have to clean this room," he said aloud.

Lovino grumbled nonsensical words.

"Seriously! There's trash everywhere- is that a needle?!"

"As long as I know where and where not to step I'm fine." grumbled Lovino.

"Yeah, well I don't! Starting now, we're gonna clean your room." Lovino didn't respond.

"I know you're not asleep," urged Antonio. "You're just staring at the wall."

"Shut up and leave me to my wall-staring."

Antonio ignored him and got up, throwing the blanket off Lovino's frail body. He immediately pulled his limbs to his chest to conserve heat, but didn't move.

"Come on, get up!" said Antonio.

Lovino groaned, but did not move. Antonio grabbed his cold wrist and yanked on his arm, trying to move him, but he yelped in pain and in his panic, Antonio dropped his arm. It fell to the floor limply.

"D-Did that hurt?" he asked, crouching down. "Are you hurt somewhere?"

"Ribs.. 'n back," mumbled Lovino, pulling his arm back to his chest and grabbing the blanket.

"Oh. Right." Antonio hung his head, ashamed. "I'm sorry. I-"

"'S fine. Just.. shush."

Antonio reached over, attempting to place his hand on Lovino's forehead to feel his temperature, but Lovino avoided his advances, throwing the blanket over his face.

"Are you feeling okay?" asked Antonio, hushed.

"I cough up blood and everything hurts. Apart from that, fine."

Antonio sucked on his lower lip awkwardly. He wished he could do something, but knew that even if there were some possible way to help his friend, Lovino would just dodge and refuse his assistance. Still, he asked,

"Anything I can do?"

Expecting Lovino to say no, Antonio prepared to leave, but to his surprise, a command issued from his friend's dry lips:

"Yes."

"R-Really? What is it?"

Face still hidden by the blanket, Lovino murmured, "Stay with me 'till I fall asleep."

Antonio felt joy flood his face, smiling so wide he worried it might crack in two. "Okay!" he beamed, voice growing too loud in his eagerness. He saw Lovino flinch underneath the blanket at his abrasiveness, and repeated again, in a whisper, "Okay."

Silently, Antonio kneeled beside the dirty mattress. He couldn't stop himself from fidgeting. He felt as if there were something more that he should do, but couldn't think as to what that was, so he busied himself by tucking in the blanket around Lovino's still form.

As he tucked Lovino in, he stirred slightly. Startled, Antonio pulled back, afraid that he had once again hurt him, but it was just sleep-talk.

Smiling slightly, Antonio brushed sweaty bangs off Lovino's clammy forehead. His hand lingered for a split second too long, and before he knew what he was doing, he had leaned in and kissed Lovino's exposed cheek dotingly. A tiny mumble escaped Lovino's slightly-parted lips, and had Antonio not been so close, he wouldn't have heard it, let alone be able to understand the drowsy words:

"Antonio."

Cold fear ran through Antonio's spine and he jerked away, afraid he had woken Lovino, but he remained peacefully asleep.

Antonio exhaled, relieved. Thank god.

But what had he been thinking, kissing Lovino like that? It was just on his cheek, and he had jokingly kissed him there before, but never like this. He hadn't even known he was doing it until he pulled away.

A little unnerved, he held a hand to his lips. They still tingled. It was wrong, Antonio knew that, but for some reason, he yearned to do it again, but maybe in a different spot; maybe this time he could finally feel Lovino's lips after months of depraved aching and lusting after him.

No.

No no no no no no no no.

This was bad.

Really, really bad.

Antonio shook his head rapidly, his hair flying up and whipping him in the face. Still, even when his vision focused, the last blurs of dizziness leaving him, when he saw Lovino's face- so still, so peaceful, and so impossibly beautiful- the longing returned again.

He blinked, hard, three times, squeezing his eyes shut until they hurt. Still the feel of Lovino's soft skin against his lips mingled as if imprinted upon him; still his sultry, pouty face swam tantalizingly as if tattooed against the backs of his eyelids; still his chest ached with burning desire as if a fire were kindling in his heart and engulfing his whole being with need, passion, lust.

Shakily he rose to his feet, stumbling out the dark room. He had to leave. If he stayed in the tiny apartment any longer he might go insane.

Without really knowing what he was doing, Antonio grabbed his bag and sweatshirt, slamming the door behind him and hurrying down the claustrophobic stairs. He took them two at a time, and five steps before the landing his heel slipped on the worn edge and he tumbled down, his body knocking against the wall painfully. After a minute of dazed staring at the cloud of dust that had emerged and spread through the air from his fall, he managed to pick himself off the floor and continue down the next flight of stairs.

The cold night air was refreshing, hitting him like a slap in the face as he stepped out into the dark. Apart from the few lights emanating from the tiny windows like cracks in the workers' housing, there was practically no light pollution this far out in the Italian countryside and the stars were visible. Antonio admired them as he walked through the worn-down buildings rising ghost-like out of the darkness. Before even realizing it, his feet had brought him to the gate and cautious, he opened it just wide enough for him to slip through. The whine of the hinges sounded like a cat yowling and he jumped, looking around nervously, but he was alone.

It seemed his feet were separate from the rest of his body, carrying him along the familiar road that led to town without command. As he walked, he gazed upwards at the many stars dotting the sky like pinpricks of light shining through velvet.

They're beautiful, he thought, but not as beautiful as Lovino.

Silently he berated himself for even daring to think such a thought.

"Don't," he whispered to himself. Still, he couldn't stop thinking about him.

Lovino had whispered his name while asleep, hadn't he? Was that normal?

Yes, he told himself, because it was easiest to assume that and not think on it any more. Friends dream about each other all the time, right? Because they were friends.

Not just friends, he thought, but corrected himself. Best friends.

That's all they were. And it was totally normal for friends to dream of each other, to laugh and cry and talk with each other, to want to make the other smile and never be sad again, to want to hug and cuddle and kiss each other and grow old together… that was all normal.

Right?

Wrong.

Even though he was outside, surrounded by nothingness, Antonio felt walls were closing in on him from every angle.

Emma's hysterical voice rang through his head painfully: "When will you realize that you love him more than you ever loved me?!"

"I don't," Antonio told himself. "I don't. I don't love him." Sweat trickled down his back, even though it was cold outside.

"I don't love him," he repeated stubbornly, but still the thought chased him. He broke into a run. With every step he reminded himself, alternating between the two phrases that now seemed to encapsulate his very being:

"I." Step. "Don't." Step. "Love." Step. "Him."

"Emma." Step. "And." Step. "Only." Step. "Emma."

Lovino woke up in the middle of the night. He heard a noise and bolted upright, looking around, but there was only blackness. Relieved, he laid his head back on his pillow, preparing to fall back asleep, but then he heard the sound again.

It was muffled, but high pitched, almost like a whine. He hoped it was just the pipes, but then it formed his name.

"Lovino."

He tossed the covers back and crawled on his hands and knees. It was coming from the other side of the screen- Antonio's side.

"Antonio?" he whispered incredulously. Antonio was asleep, blanket tangled around his legs. His breath was uneven, little whimpers and gasps emanating every few seconds. His eyelids twitched spasmodically, alternating between peaceful and then squeezed tight. His brown skin was pallid and covered in a light sheen of sweat.

He was clearly having a nightmare.

"Antonio?" whispered Lovino again, this time a little louder. He shook Antonio's shoulder gently.

Antonio jerked awake, shooting upright, and looking around frantically, his eyes wild.

"Antonio?" asked Lovino, and his lost face swiveled to Lovino's frantically. He took a deep, shuddering breath, then another.

"Lovi?" he breathed, as if he couldn't believe it. One hand reached up to touch Lovino's cheek, almost like he were trying to tell if he were real. "You're okay?" he gasped.

"Uh… yeah..?," answered Lovino, a little distractedly, for Antonio was still caressing his cheek lovingly.

"Bu- But there was so much blood- where did it go?" Antonio's eyes swept Lovino's thin body up and down, searching.

"There's no blood, Antonio," said Lovino softly. "You had a nightmare."

"And the shelf!" Antonio said, seemingly not hearing Lovino. "It fell on you- and the bottle- there was so much blood, so much blood.." He ran his hands through his hair distractedly, eyes unfocused as if he were seeing something faraway. "Where did it go?" he queried.

"It didn't go anywhere- there's no blood!"

"But-"

"It was a dream, Antonio," said Lovino sharply. "Just a dream."

"So… so you're okay?"

"Of course I am! I'm fine!"

Antonio blinked once, twice, as if finally beginning to see the truth. Then slowly, his mouth twitched upwards and he began to smile awkwardly, tears leaking out of his eyes and dribbling down his cheeks already wet with sweat.

"Lovi-" he gasped, his other hand reaching up and pulling Lovino to his chest. "You're- you're okay!"

"I know, I know, so get off me already," grumbled Lovino, though he was hugging Antonio back too, albeit a little stiffly. He pulled back.

"Jesus Christ, you're all sweaty and gross."

"Yeah," sniffed Antonio, still smiling and crying at the same time. "I'm sorry."

"No, no, it's fine." Lovino climbed onto his mattress. "Move over," he commanded.

"Huh?"

"I'll stay with you 'till you fall asleep," he said. He pulled back the blanket. "Jesus!" he exclaimed. "You're still in your normal clothes- are you wearing shoes?"

"Oh- yeah," Antonio scratched the back of his head. "I went running earlier, after you fell asleep."

"Why?" Lovino lay down beside Antonio, resting his head on his arm.

"To- to clear my head…" As Antonio lay down next to his friend, his confused face coming into focus, just inches away from his own, he remembered why he had left, why he had run away.

Lovino exhaled a single laugh. "Stupid," he muttered, but his eyes were kind. Antonio began to smile, seeing this, but then faltered, remembering his running mantra:

"I don't love him."

Sensing something, Lovino asked quietly, "What's wrong?" but the concern, the gentleness in his usually harsh voice just made Antonio feel worse.

"You- you should go back to your own bed," he forced himself to say, throat suddenly dry.

Lovino's brow wrinkled. "No," he said. "I'm staying here with you. You just had a nightmare, for fuck's sake."

"No!" It was only after he saw Lovino's shocked expression that Antonio realized he had yelled the word.

"R- Right. Sorry." Lovino clambered off the mattress, suddenly meek.

"Wait- no, I'm sorry," Antonio tried to call after him, but the words became stuck in his throat and he choked on them.

Lovino scampered past the curtain and back to his mattress, pulling the gray blanket up and over him. Feeling empty, he pulled his pillow to his chest and hugged it. He noticed he was shaking.

Antonio had never raised his voice at him before. He was sometimes loud, and boisterous, but always in a gentle, silly manner. Lovino squeezed the pillow tighter, burying his face in it.

What had he done wrong?

Antonio knocked his forehead against his knees, hard.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid," he muttered under his breath. He couldn't shake Lovino's shocked, wide-eyed, hurt expression from his mind. How could he have let himself do such a thing, yelling at Lovino?

He hated what he had become- a senseless, wooden being clinging to his last thread of sanity, desperately making a fool of himself, laughing without any meaning behind it, in an attempt to convince himself and others that he was fine.

Maybe it was best that he was leaving Lovino.