Tolys stepped out of the bathroom, hair and skin still somewhat damp. As it appeared, Katyusha had left his shirt folded into a neat pile on the bed.

After changing back into the clothes he had been wearing earlier (he had no intention of borrowing anything from Ivan's wardrobe), Tolys took a seat on the bed once again.

There was nothing better to do than just go to sleep. But his brain just wouldn't let him; thoughts and questions bounced around his head and had no plans on ceasing.

No… Ivan couldn't possibly be jealous… jealous of Alfred…

But now that I think about it, Alfred and Ivan were always arguing. In the hallways, classrooms—anywhere. Even on the first day, back at the field.

The way Ivan touches me… I don't know how to feel! It's like his hand is made out of ice or something. But no matter what I say, he just won't stop.

Tolys rubbed his temple, feeling a dull headache begin to pound.

This is all just too much! I'm in way over my head. I really wish I had somebody to talk to right now. Well, there is Natalya and Katyusha. But I don't think I'm quite comfortable enough with them to have a kind of conversation that'd be better suited for a diary or something.

Tolys used to keep a diary. Or journal, as he oftentimes insisted. Back when he lived at Ivan's house, every day entailed stress and pain. And of course, fear. That was guaranteed in any situation involving the Russian.

He would write. Write about his feelings, emotions, and all of the like. Tolys didn't really think it was embarrassing, even when Raivis had accidentally found it and read the first few pages out of curiosity.

But sometimes, the words that filled the pages weren't just mundane descriptions about his daily life.

The words actually meant something. Poems, stories, and all of the like.

But Tolys guarded those words with his entire life. Those words would eventually end up either burnt to ashes, or ripped apart beyond recognition.

I really wish Feliks was here right now.

Feliks liked to talk. A lot. Most of the time, his conversations would focus on drama, romance, and more drama. But he was still one of Tolys's oldest friends and a great listener.

But he isn't here. He's probably off partying somewhere. Or maybe at the shopping mall, helping Elizaveta pick out a dress for the dance.

He had almost forgotten. But of course, he couldn't.

The Homecoming dance was the only thing that people could talk about. Even the actual Homecoming football game had been disregarded.

Maybe Feliks will pity me and let me tag along with him.

Tolys had a sinking feeling that he would end up standing in the corner of the room, nursing a cup of punch, and gazing wistfully at those brave enough to enter the dance floor.

Shaking his head, Tolys got up from the bed to switch the light off, only to return back.

And so, he fell into a fitful sleep.

┏━━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━━┓

Stupid Feli. Stupid Toni. Mio Dio, why am I acting like such a girl?

All I have to do is just walk up to the bastard's house and ring the doorbell. Not too hard, right?

Lovino felt stuck, his legs rooted to that spot on the sidewalk in front of Antonio's house. He could hear his own heart beat, loud and much too clear for his liking.

Antonio's house was different from the rest on the street. Lovino could tell it was his from a mile away.

It was the tomatoes. The bright, succulent, plants growing in his front yard. The tomatoes that would always somehow find their way onto the countertop, and then into Lovino's own mouth.

Just do it, already!

Even my stupid little brother told me I was being a wuss. Sometimes I wish I could shove that damn white flag down his throat!

Lovino took a few steps forward, feeling another smattering of raindrops hit the top of his head and the sides of his face. Thunder and lightning crackled through the air, sending slight shivers up his spine.

I don't care if I'm in the middle of a raging storm.

I need to do this.

I need…

him.

Lovino angled one hazel-green eye at the window. His heart immediately sank. The lights were all off.

He must not be home.

But then where else would he be?

I need to do this.

If he isn't home, at least I'd just be saving myself half the embarrassment.

Lovino continued walking up the steps until he reached the door. He reached under the doormat for a spare key that Antonio had gladly allowed Lovino to use whenever he wanted. The brass doorknob felt cold and wet under his palm.

"Hello? Is… is anybody in here?" Lovino's voice echoed through the dark and seemingly empty house. He received no response.

Something felt oddly eerie to him. Something about the darkness and the absence of a certain Spaniard—it unnerved him far more than he would care to admit.

"Bastard… I know you're there," Lovino insisted. He prayed that whoever was in the house, if there was anyone, wouldn't catch the undertone of fear in his voice.

It's so dark.

Lovino ran his finger along the far wall until he felt the light switch. Sighing in relief, he flicked it.

Nothing happened.

He flipped the switch once more.

The darkness would not go away.

Merda. So there's probably a power outage in here. Just my shitty luck.

Lovino briefly contemplated just turning on his heel and getting the hell out.

That was what he wanted to do.

He shook his head.

No. No, no, no. I came here for a reason, damn it! If I could find a candle or something, I can just leave him a note or something and then leave.

Lovino knew the layout of Antonio's house like the back of his hand. Those lazy summer days spent in the gardens, picking tomatoes… emerald green eyes…

The Italian ventured further into the house, only bumping into a wall every now and again Eventually, he reached the kitchen. In the third drawer to the right of the sink was a lighter, and a rose-scented candle (most likely gifted by Francis) sat right on the dining table.

I can barely tell where I'm going in this stupid house, let alone write something that's even remotely legible. So if I can just get a little bit of light...

A small flame flickered into visibility, dancing on the candlewick.

Satisfied with himself, Lovino shoved the lighter back into its original place and snatched the pad of post-it-notes attached to the fridge by a single magnet.

Lovino felt stuck. Again. What was he supposed to write?

I like you?

I love you?

I hate you?

I like you and I love you and hate you and I really want to spend the rest of my goddamn life with you but I just don't know what I am supposed to say?

Lovino twiddled the pen in his hand—it was nothing special, just a cheap ballpoint pen that he always kept in his pocket misshapen ever so slightly by teeth marks.

Just make it short. I'm not gonna write a 3-page long ballad for that stupid bastard.

Just a few sentences.

Just a few lines.

As soon as he pressed the point of the pen onto the paper, he heard a faint creak come from the foyer. His heart practically jumped out of his chest at the noise.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit. Did somebody break-in?

Lovino anxiously played with a strand of dark brown hair, trying his best to stay calm.

It's my damn fault, too. I left the door unlocked.

Loud footsteps were audible from the other room. Lovino grabbed the candle with the intention of blowing it out so the intruder wouldn't notice him.

"Mhmm. Don't need to get your panties in a twist, pal. I'm sure your little boyfriend is fine. Ja, the door was unlocked. Did you leave it like that?"

The fear clutching at Lovino's chest was soon replaced by annoyance.

It's one of the potato bastards. Gilbert. The one that gave us a ride.

The hell is he doing here?

It sounded like Gilbert was on the phone with someone. Lovino was no idiot; he could guess who was on the other end.

Either the French pervert or Ludwig.

Or Toni.

But… little boyfriend?

"Aw, c'mon! That's so un-awesome. I even brought the beer!" Gilbert paused for a short moment before speaking again, most likely listening to what the other person had to say. "Nah, Francis didn't come with."

It's probably Toni. But then where the hell did he go?

Lovino could hear Gilbert's voice grow louder. He looked down at the small post-it note, still blank. Carefully, he placed the scented candle back where it was before.

Apparently, he wasn't careful enough.

The glass jar of hardened, Fuschia-colored wax hit the cold granite with a resonating clunk.

Gilbert immediately stopped talking.

Lovino grimaced.

Great. Now that stupid potato bastard's gonna come in here and I'll never hear the end of it.

"Hey… man… I think someone else is in your house," Gilbert said tentatively.

No shit, sherlock.

Lovino smirked despite the situation.

I bet all Germans are as thick-headed as this one.

"I'm kinda scared, Toni. Gott, I wish I had Lizzie's frying pan right now…"

Lovino was sick of all the foolery. So, he stepped out of the kitchen and decided to address the white-haired visitor directly.

"Welcome back, asshole."

Gilbert looked frightened at first, ruby-red eyes widening. Because of the darkness, he couldn't quite see who the person was. And in his defense, an unfamiliar disembodied voice would be at least a little bit scary.

But the voice wasn't unfamiliar.

The tension dropped from Gilbert's shoulders. "Ah, Toni! Your boyfriend was here the whole time! Isn't that funny?"

Lovino groaned and rolled his eyes.

Was that really necessary?

"Calm down! He's fine, don't worry. Just.." Gilbert took a few seconds to examine the Italian boy in front of him. "Really wet. And pissed." He pressed the "end call" button in a dramatic manner.

Why did he have to choose his words that way?!

"Of course I am, dumb bastard." Lovino narrowed his eyebrows, shooting Gilbert a glare that would definitely not go unnoticed, even in the dark. "What's your business here, huh?"

Gilbert let out an obnoxious laugh and grinned. "I could ask you the same thing! Waiting for your husband to get home from work?"

Lovino turned a bright shade of red. "NO, YOU JERK BASTARD! I just…"

What do I say, now? That I wanted to write a love letter to Antonio?

No way in hell! That's embarrassing, damn it! And I don't need something else for that white-haired bastard to hold over my head for the rest of my life!

"Kesesese! Whatever you say! Well, anyway, I came over here to have a drink or two with my buddy Antonio," Gilbert explained. "Turns out he wasn't home. Went to Emma and Tim's place to have dinner, and now I think he's stuck there until morning."

So it figures.

Lovino was pleasantly surprised at how easily Gilbert dropped the topic of romantic affairs. In fact, it was a little bit suspicious…

"Oi, bastard."

Gilbert nodded as if to say "I'm listening."

"When you were talking on the phone with Antonio…"

"You want to ask who Toni's 'little boyfriend' is, right?"

Lovino nodded and cursed under his breath.

How did he know?

"Well, for starters, you're pretty obvious," said Gilbert before popping the top off a beer bottle.

Lovino's throat felt blocked. "What's that supposed to mean, eh?"

Gilbert took a long gulp of the golden-coloured liquid before responding. "See, you always get so angry and flustered around him. Or when anybody asks about him. And your face becomes super red." He placed the bottle on the coffee table. "Honestly, it would be impossible for anyone to not notice."

Lovino eyed the alcohol a few feet away. "You know you're underage, right?"

Gilbert rejected the comment with a wave of the hand. "Pff, whatever. Plus, you Italians go through wine like it's water."

Lovino shut his mouth. It was true, he did enjoy a good glass (or sometimes multiple glasses) of fine every now and then. But he had gotten permission from his Grandfather, something that he was almost certain that Gilbert did not have.

Throwing all his common sense to the wind, Lovino reached for one of the unopened beer bottles sitting in the case.

Gilbert raised one eyebrow incredulously before smirking. "Are you sure you'll be able to handle that, little boy?"

Lovino scowled and removed the cap. "Shut up. I had a stressful day, dammit. I deserve it."

So he drank. Surprisingly enough, it really wasn't all that bad. It was rather unfamiliar on his tongue; such a far cry from the deep and fruity undertones of a nice bottle of wine.

Gilbert laughed again, but less enthusiastically. "So then, what happened to you?"

Lovino's grip on the bottle tightened considerably.

Should I just tell him?

I never tell anyone anything. I keep my emotions so bottled up…

Maybe that's why I act like such a prick all the damn time.

"Antonio asked me to go to the dance with him. Told me he loved me. And…" Lovino buried his face in his hands, ashamed that he had let so much slip. "I feel the same way. But I just… needed to tell him…"

The last part was quiet, not far from becoming a whisper.

Much to his surprise, Gilbert did not laugh. He did not tease. He didn't even crack another playful grin.

He just nodded.

"I get it. That's kind of why I'm here." Gilbert ran a hand through his short, white, hair. "I've got myself some romance trouble, too."

Lovino held out his palm, gesturing for Gilbert to continue.

"You really want to know, kid?"

"Yes."

A few moments of silence ensued. Gilbert tossed his now-empty beer bottle to the floor.

"Alright."

NOTES:

- There's somewhat of a historical reference in the first part of the story when Feliks and Elizaveta are mentioned. Historically, Poland and Hungary were involved in a friendship, and I felt like I was obligated to include it somewhere here.

- For some reason, Grammarly does not think "Tolys" is an actual name. Nice.

- Mio Dio (Italian): My God

- You may or may not have been able to tell, but another arc is going to be starting up pretty soon. Like, in the next chapter or chapter after. The GerIta arc is basically done, leaving room for another one to take the spotlight. So then I thought: why not bring Prussia, Hungary, and Austria into this madness? And with that being said, with Austria will come Switzerland, and with Switzerland will come Liechtenstein. Hooray, the drama continues, but with new characters.

- If you were wondering about the entire musical aspect of this work, (EX. Marukaite Chikyuu and other elements), please keep in mind that they are all still present. However, these last few chapters are a lot less focused on that and more on the drama. Don't worry, there's still the Pep Rally, the Homecoming Game (yes, I will find a way to incorporate that into the story), and of course, the revered full-orchestra concert to look forward to.

- I was thinking about doing a special sort of chapter for Halloween. It's in about two weeks, by the way, and I couldn't be more excited! Perhaps I could do a little flashback to the Halloween party brought up in the America/Russia/Belarus/Lithuania arc. I'm not sure, would you like to see that?

Thanks for reading!