Lovino was a leg bouncer. It wasn't the kind of thing most people would pin him for, and it was definitely the kind of thing he himself would get ticked about other people doing. It was distracting; how did people have that much energy in them to be in a constant state of motion like that?

Yet, somehow, he was one of those idiots. He bounced his legs in class, at home watching TV, eating lunch in the cafeteria.

And he especially bounced his leg now, the empty seat behind him not visible, but sure as hell noticeable. He couldn't hear Antonio's tapping pencil. The idiot never leaned forward to murmur something about the lecture or show him some stupid doodle he had made. The space just felt empty and it was unsettling.

Lovino could scoff and claim a day without Antonio was a break he well deserved, but, in reality, it was a punishment he still wasn't sure how he'd earned.

Lovino had been making efforts the past three- no, now four - weeks of school to zone out of class. He was bent on it, yet it had never been easier than this single day Antonio had not shown up.

And there were still more days like it to come.

Lovino's legs were starting to rock the desk and he frowned down at them. Still, they did not stop. He could stop them himself, he supposed, but it would not last for long. So he instead shifted them sideways; that way they jiggled a little more silently.

When he looked up, he noticed 'bright smile and glasses' giving him a look. Lovino narrowed his eyes and relayed death in his glare, enough to make the guy look away. Good. He had been starting to think his glare was becoming soft with how Antonio nor Gilbert even flinched at it. Not even Francis, now that Lovino thought about it. What was with those three?

Lovino wondered if Gilbert and Francis had talked to Antonio. Lovino himself hadn't. He was too much a coward.

Especially with what had happened right before Antonio had gotten that call from his mom. They hadn't talked about the kiss and Lovino really didn't want to now. Not with everything else going on.

He still couldn't quite believe it had happened. It was starting to feel like nothing more than a dream. Maybe he really had made it all up in his head and this was the consequence for doing so.

Because, yeah, he had wanted to kiss Antonio for a long time now, but there had been a lot in the way. He could blame Emma, but he knew it was his own cowardice.

And he could say Gilbert wasn't just a distraction, but he'd then be a liar too.

So he thought he could like someone else. So he thought he could move the fuck on. He couldn't possibly deserve to stay hung up on Antonio for the rest of his life, could he? What was so wrong with trying to give someone else a chance?

But, if that kiss had been real… shouldn't Lovino be happy he hadn't moved on?

This was way too complicated for a high schooler's life. Lovino wanted to return and exchange, please. He'd gladly take easy communication and understanding than whatever drama this was.

Lovino doubted easy communication and understanding was something he'd be good at in any life, but a guy can dream, right?

Then again, if a bit of miscommunication was the most of their problems, Lovino would probably be relieved at this point.

He really hoped Antonio was doing okay…

-/-

When Lovino got home that Monday afternoon, the whispers around the halls still bounced around his head. Everyone had been wondering "Where's Antonio?" "Is he sick?" "What happened?" and most of them had come straight to him.

He scared off most people, but some of the more stupid ones–or bold, Antonio might say– would just march up to him in the hallway. Lovino, naturally, had told them it was none of their damn business and stormed away. Why the hell would he tell anyone what was going on with Antonio?

And, overall, he didn't. Except for one instance. Except for one person who he just couldn't ignore. And why? He wasn't even that certain, but he just couldn't ignore her when she asked,

"Is he alright?"

Faced with the green, concerned gaze of Antonio's ex, Lovino couldn't put up his cold exterior. Lovino couldn't ground his teeth together and turn away. For some reason, he couldn't lie when Emma showed such genuine concern because, as much as he had tried, he couldn't hate her. He knew she was just a good person.

So he had looked at her and sighed.

"He's… going through something," he'd said and left it at that. He hadn't turned right away, though. Not until Emma had nodded and placed a hand to his arm.

He'd expected something spectacular, some wise words of understanding, something profound, but Emma had squeezed his arm and turned away. Without a word, she had left.

And, now, Lovino couldn't get it out of his head.

He collapsed on his bed, facing up at the ceiling and letting out a hard, throaty sigh. He needed all the air out of his lungs. It was air he did not want. It was the same air breathed by the other kids at school; it was the same air as Emma and her understanding damn arm squeeze and the same air as bright smile and glasses guy.

And it was not the same air as Antonio. Because Lovino had not seen Antonio since he'd left the past weekend. Not been face-to-face with him since Friday.

Out of habit, Lovino looked up at the digital clock he kept at his desk. It was almost three o'clock. Calculations zipped through his head before he'd really considered what he was doing. He wouldn't call himself much of a math whiz–actually, he kind of hated math–but his brain had always had a knack for keeping an eye on the time.

He would sort the hours into categories and, from there, see what could be done–see how much could be done in a day. He didn't have anything to distract him from it today; still, he knew he certainly wouldn't be doing a thing the calculations drew out. Ignoring those thoughts had been a main objective of his the past weeks and, now that he had Antonio to worry about, he let that take up his time instead.

Still, an anxious mind is a trained one and he couldn't keep his thoughts from the clock for long.

Instead, he started to calculate the time differences of the world and imagined what Antonio was doing in his own. Three o'clock in New York. Eleven o'clock in California. If Antonio had been allowed to sleep in, he could still be in bed. Then again, Lovino wondered how much sleep he'd be getting at all.

Lovino pulled his phone from his pocket and stared at the dull screen. He'd had his text conversation with Antonio pulled up for days, trying to come up with something to say. The chat had occupied that screen and his thoughts since the texts Antonio had sent on Saturday, explaining what had happened and that he and his mother would be gone for a week or two in California.

The words had lacked their usual, sunny way of speaking. They didn't try to make things seem better than they were, though Lovino knew Antonio would try to do just that if he came face-to-face with Lovino. When Antonio hurt, he was afraid to bring others down with him. He was a self-sacrificing fool.

Lovino knew Antonio would probably say the same about him, but the fact of the matter was, these things were not the same. Lovino did not act happy when he wasn't. He didn't act like things were fine. He just kept people out of his business and that was his own choice.

Antonio, though, hid his emotions for the sake of others and Lovino couldn't break through that stupid, stubborn shell. They had been best friends since they were little, yet, in some ways, they barely knew each other at all.

"Ugh," Lovino grumbled, throwing his phone down so that his arm bounced on his bed. "Shut up."

His brain rarely listened to what he wanted, but, if he kept himself well enough busy he could keep things at a distance anyway. It was too bad that he couldn't keep himself busy enough, what with ignoring all things school and family related.

It sucked that lately he'd been so hell bent on rebelling against his father. But he had to. He wasn't exactly sure what he was trying to get from it, but he'd worked all his life to prove himself to the man and with little results. He was fed up with the constant demands.

He did not need to study all hours of the day to amount to something. He did not need to give over his life to some future he had no interest in. He could make himself the person he wanted to be, he could have a future for himself, and he could do it his own way.

He would be something without academic achievement. He could be more, just as Antonio had always tried to tell him.

And, even as his conscience ate away at his insides, Lovino had decided he was through with pleasing his father–or, trying and gaining nothing.

The thing was, Lovino felt a bit lost without the textbooks and the stress, without slipping nonchalant remarks about his stellar grades at the dinner table and eying his father for a reaction. And, most of all, he was completely lost without Antonio there with him.

Without his father, without Antonio,even without his brother since he'd shut himself away from those worried eyes too, sometimes, Lovino wondered if he could ever be his own person at all.

He was like a shell, a human with little purpose, seeking out people and turning away from them, seeking out things to keep his hands busy, his mind occupied. He felt empty and blank, even as worry and anxiety gnawed inside him.

Lovino caught himself then and shook his head hard. He had to stop thinking.

So, he stared at the ceiling and focused on keeping his eyes away from the clock.

-/-

A week later, Lovino stood at his window as a red truck pulled into Antonio's driveway. They were back relatively early and he's honestly surprised to have caught the moment they arrived.

He still hadn't said anything to Antonio since his friend had left. His phone had been a brick in his pocket, useless, heavy.

It was across the room at the moment, abandoned on his desk like his untouched textbooks and pencils.

Lovino left the window; doesn't even glance at the phone. He's still telling himself…

It's best to give Antonio his space.

-/-

Lovino remembered when he was eight and trying to learn his times tables. He hated times tables.

He refused to do them for the longest time, but Feli had wanted him to come outside so bad. He was lonely playing out there alone. Still, Lovino was scared. What if he failed again? What if he'd gotten worse? What if he disappointed their father again?

Lovino liked hanging out by the windows, basking in the sun, and he liked to lock himself in his room and draw with his crayons. His father was always annoyed when he came in to find that he'd done nothing, but it was still better. It was always better than if he'd actually tried.

Then, Feliciano came inside one day and was a lot cheerier than usual. Not that he was ever particularly mopey–not until he mentioned that he wished Lovino could come out too. But Feliciano was rarely ever this ecstatic. Something like this usually only came out when Feliciano was able to be the people person he naturally was.

"I met another boy today! He moved in next door!"

And that was only shortly before Lovino first met Antonio. The next week, Feliciano played with this Antonio outside practically everyday and Lovino's new hobby was watching them from the window.

He stayed there for a while, skeptical of the new boy and what he could want with his brother. Eventually, he had had enough watching.

He didn't like this kid. Feliciano was his brother. Why should he get to play with him while Lovino was stuck inside?

Lovino had glanced between his times tables, neat on his desk, untouched for days, and the window where, outside, his brother and the kid picked weeds for bouquets. His gaze swept back and forth for hours before he clenched a fist and turned from the window.

His lower lip wobbled and he shot a look at the closed bedroom door. Today was a day where he was expected to stay in his room, his father busy in his study, but he worried he could show up any moment.

Lovino considered the papers on his desk one more time before approaching. He pulled his chair out and climbed up, careful not to knock the papers on his way up. He didn't want to disturb them until he was certain.

He looked at the first one and remembered the answer. But there were so many…

He picked up his pencil and wrote in the 3.

And, then, it took another hour to pencil in the rest.

-/-

Lovino sat under their tree and tapped a wooden pencil to the rubber tip of his shoe. He had set aside some homework, settling on a mediocre well done and experiencing much more stress about it than he probably would have if he'd stressed over making it perfect.

But he was determined to show his father. He could make good grades, damn it. And he didn't need to devote his entire life to it.

Because his "mediocre well done" was still a well done. It was good. It was only mediocre because he'd come to associate trading any free time, any relaxation, sleep, for papers that didn't need it.

He was still willing his brain to calm down. Fuck that paper. All his teacher wanted was a short summary of the novel; he didn't need to get caught up in Is it all summed up well enough? Is it too short? Too long? Did I-

"Lovino," a voice to his left spoke, causing him to nearly jump out of his skin. He whipped around to see the last person he'd expected, despite this being their spot. Despite knowing no one else but maybe Feli knew about this spot.

"Antonio," Lovino responded in kind, voice cracking a bit and his hand coming up to cover it, as if he could prevent Antonio from hearing.

And maybe he didn't. Because, while Antonio would usually smile and tease him about it, he didn't do anything now. Instead, he gestured to the grass and asked, "Can I sit?"

Lovino's eyebrows came together in a tight arrow and he couldn't help snapping, "Of course, idiot." He got snippy when he was worried and Antonio must have known it too because a ghost of a smile flickered across his lips as he took a seat.

Neither of them spoke. To be honest, Lovino was a little scared to. He didn't know what to say and, if he opened his mouth again, something else angry might come out. So he waited for Antonio to say something, like he usually did when he didn't trust his words.

But Antonio didn't say anything and they sat in silence.

Eventually, Lovino thought anything would be better than this. Damn it, why couldn't he just say something? He hadn't texted Antonio the whole time he'd been gone or the days he'd been back and now, here he was, giving him some sort of silent treatment.

There had to have been something. He had to say something.

But, at times like this, what was there to say?

-/-

Sometimes they saw each other at their tree, but they didn't say anything. Antonio was going to school again, but his thin smile was too difficult to watch and Lovino often found himself looking away. He wasn't the friend Antonio needed. He couldn't do anything to help.

It frustrated the hell out of him, yet he was still too scared to do anything about it. He was a coward. Once a coward, always a coward.

But he knew someone who could help. Two someones, actually.

Lovino: Hey, idiots. Have you guys been talking to Antonio?

It took a while to get any sort of response, but eventually his phone buzzed.

On his desk. Where it had been untouched for so long.

Lovino got up from his bed to retrieve it and looked at the screen.

Francis: Not as much as we would like.

Gilbert: guy doesnt want to talk to anyone.

Lovino shut his eyes, then, opening them, walked to his window. It was raining out there, soaking the plants more than the plants probably ever wanted. Lovino wouldn't mind going out there and just sitting in it, letting his focus shift to the beads of water sliding down his face and losing himself to something trivial like the weather.

Instead, he looked at the house next door. And the red truck in the driveway. And the wooden fence in the backyard.

Lovino: Try Skyping him.

Francis: We've tried. He won't pick up.

Lovino: Then call him!

Gilbert: you dont think we've tried all that?! do something yourself! at least youre there with him!

Lovino clutched his phone, trying with all his might not to strangle and break it. Gilbert was right, of course. He should be the one helping Antonio. He was the one failing Antonio right now.

He turned away from the window and threw his phone across the room. Not hard enough to break, just with enough force to get it as far away from him as he could.

Then, he sat down and leaned against the wall under the window, listening to the downpour outside and trying to keep any frustrated screams at bay.

He settled on banging his head against his knees, both hands over his ears so he could pretend he hadn't failed at keeping the screams in.

-/-

Lovino couldn't sleep that night. That wasn't particularly anything new. He was tired and his limbs ached and he wouldn't stop yawning and, still, he knew it would be hours before the dim ceiling above him blurred into a dreamless sleep.

But, then, there was a knock on his bedroom door and Lovino sat up, turning towards it.

He looked at his clock. 3:30 AM. Surely he must have been hearing things…

Then, there it was again, accompanied by a muffled murmur on the other side.

"Lovi?"

Lovino shot out of bed and threw open his door, showing a wide-eyed, rumpled Feliciano. He looked sheepish at standing there, early morning and messy haired. No, not sheepish. Sheepish wasn't something Feliciano did, at least with his brother.

Feliciano looked vulnerable. He looked like the few thin layers he kept up for himself had been peeled back, forcibly showing everything that lied underneath.

Lovino knew this routine. It wasn't one they'd gone through in a long time.

"Can't sleep?" he asked and Feliciano nodded miserably. Lovino opened his arms and his brother shuffled into them, sniffling quietly. Lovino sighed silently, afraid that his brother would hear. Secretly, he was afraid what this bout of insomnia could mean for him.

But it was only the first one in a long, long time. One didn't mean anything. One was a fluke.

It was still very real though, which is why Lovino asked Feliciano if he wanted to stay in there tonight. They were teenagers and they hadn't slept in the same bed since they were in elementary school, but, if it helped Feliciano, then Lovino would never be too old for it.

So they settled in under thick covers and listened to the falling rain, still going hard from earlier in the day. The forecast said it would last at least another day.

Right now, though, it was sort of nice. Its steady rhythm helped put Feliciano to sleep, even if the same could not be said for Lovino.

But Lovino didn't mind. It was nothing particularly new anyway.

-/-

The seat behind Lovino in first period was occupied, yet Lovino couldn't help feeling like it was just as empty as before. No pencil tapping, no soft chuckles when someone did something absurd behind the teacher's back, no leaning forward to tell Lovino something in his ear.

Lovino's leg was still bouncing.

Antonio was pretty quiet these days. That wasn't to say he didn't talk; he did. But it was so different than the carefree way he had before. It was different than just a few weeks ago when there was always a brightness in Antonio's eyes, warmth in his smile. These days, he looked hollow, like his body knew the motions but his mind had forgotten what exactly they were so it just followed along. Like he'd forgotten why he did them in the first place.

Because Antonio wasn't happy like he'd been before.

Lovino could tell it dissuaded some people. That some of Antonio's friends just didn't know how to deal with the boy anymore - like happy, friendly, easy Antonio was the only Antonio they'd ever seen and ever expected to see. And, now that that was gone, they gave up before even really trying to see more of him, to help, to just freaking be there for him like any good friend would.

Lovino didn't consider himself a particularly good friend, but he sure as hell tried a lot harder than some of these guys.

If Antonio was the shadow now, it was up to Lovino to stand in the light. If Antonio was the silence, then Lovino would be the noise. If Antonio was empty space, Lovino would stay there with him to keep away the solitude he knew Antonio hated so much.

Papers were getting passed back through the rows and Lovino absently grabbed the stack as it reached him. He separated one and twisted in his seat to pass to Antonio. In most classes he might have just passed it over his shoulder, maybe even in this class too on most occasions, but something drove him to turn–to look at Antonio.

He handed over the stack, trying to look into his friend's eyes. When Antonio looked up, his once vibrant green irises looked dull. Yet, he still tried to smile. What an idiot. What an…

Something twisted in Lovino's chest and he turned abruptly back to his desk, staring down at his worksheet. He couldn't stop this–stop averting his gaze, stop shying away. He was worse than the rest of the students who skirted around Antonio now. The look in his eyes was nothing new, his silence, his automatic, hollow smile. Lovino could not stop the feeling in his chest anytime he saw it though.

He couldn't stop. He couldn't stop.

He should do something. Say something. He wouldn't say he was worried about Antonio, but Lovino knew and everyone else did too.

When the bell rang he held his tongue. He walked side-by-side with Antonio until their next class, where they promptly sat down and faced the board. Lovino should say something.

He said nothing.

All the day through Lovino kept telling himself that. You should say something. Say something. Damn it, say something, Lovino!

And all the day through he said nothing. When the final bell rang, he hadn't realized how disappointed he would feel. Because his chance was up. Because he had failed.

Lovino clenched his fist under his desk and hunched his shoulders. He imagined all his frustration, morphing into a tight ball in the middle of his chest. He compacted it like Play-Doh and beat it into the tiniest possible place. Then, he unclenched and allowed it all to flow out of him, to pool down at his feet and air to occupy the place it had been.

It was a trick Antonio had taught Lovino to help with stress. His veins still felt aflame, but if it helped even just a little it was worth it. Lovino stretched his hands, feeling his skin stretch through his fingers and palms, then he looked up.

Antonio was standing beside his desk.

"To the park?" he asked and Lovino blinked up for a half a second at him like an idiot. When it processed, he nodded and grabbed his bag.

"Let's go then," he said, able to hide his utter relief that it wasn't another day Antonio went straight home.

They walked out of the building, Antonio waving half-heartedly at a couple people he knew, and took their usual route to the park by their street. It was warm out that day and Lovino savored the feeling of sun soaking into his clothes and skin. Antonio was more of a summer guy than Lovino, but after the rainy and dreary week, it was nice for a change.

Antonio seemed to think so too going by the way he reached his hand out in front of him, stretching his bare arm to soak up the sun's rays. Looking at the hand, Lovino had a sudden urge to reach out and hold it, to feel Antonio's warm hand against his, to hold onto him and never let go. Could something as simple as that be a suitable replacement for the words he could not get out?

Lovino did not take the hand. Instead, he looked up at the clear blue sky and continued on in silence. The sky was not as reassuring to Lovino as holding Antonio's hand might have been; it could not take his mind away from the questions that had been plaguing him all day. All week.

When they got to their tree, they sat down and Antonio got out a book. Lovino saw it was the one they were reading in Lit class. Usually Lovino would read books from that class out loud for them because he liked to say words that didn't come from his own head and Antonio liked to listen. It was a flip from their usual dynamic where Antonio usually did most of the talking.

Today, Antonio didn't ask Lovino to read. He just started on his own. So Lovino got out his phone and scrolled aimlessly. None of his apps had been particularly enjoyable lately, either being too much work like the games Feliciano had insisted he get, or too little work like scrolling through social media platforms.

Lovino elected on one with too little work and recognized his mistake almost immediately. These apps gave him too much leeway to think.

And those thoughts reached out to the boy laying in the grass in front of him, scanning pages in a daze, probably not taking in a single word. Lovino's heart typically swelled at Antonio's tendency to drift far away, no matter where they were. Now, he only worried where Antonio's thoughts had taken him.

Say something, a whisper told him once more. Lovino chewed on his lip and looked back at his phone, scrolling twice through the feed before looking back up. Say something.

"Hey, Toni?" Lovino asked, coughing a little when his voice warbled from disuse. Antonio had put his book down, sprawled across his chest, and had one arm tucked behind his head. He didn't stir when Lovino called for him.

Lovino's head shifted to the side a mere fraction, considering the boy before him. He was breathing deeply and, leaning forward, Lovino could now tell that his eyes were closed.

"Oh," he sighed, slumping back against the tree and eying his friend. He wondered how much sleep Antonio had been getting lately.

Lovino picked back up his phone and looked at the time. He hadn't thought to tell Antonio before, but he was expected back home in about forty-five minutes. He was reluctant to speak with his father, but, when he was summoned, he was summoned.

He didn't know how long Antonio would be asleep for though.

I can just wake him up before I go. Easy enough. It doesn't matter that he's looked exhausted since he came back from California. It doesn't matter that he won't tell me about his father's funeral.

Lovino settled back down, opening his app again and scrolling through, seeing about as much as Antonio probably had from the book settled against his chest.

Lovino let Antonio sleep for over an hour.

CV: Hello, out there! New chapter, new POV! Yep, we've got Lovi's perspective for a little bit so hope you enjoy the ride :)

Sorry about the length of time this took to get out. Would you believe me if I told you this has been ready for editing for months? And... in the end... I really didn't do much editing (cause I'm lazy and hate it). Hope you can all forgive me and that there are still people interested in this fic. Thanks guys and I'll see you next time.