For the guest reviewer who's still reading and anyone else still reading too :)

Lovino hated his times tables. If he could get rid of any one thing in the world, he'd chose it without hesitation. He hated them when they sat, blank and undone on his desk. He hated them when the teacher sent him into the hall to practice while all the other kids had free time. He hated them most when he did them at home and watched his father grade them, a look of scorn and disappointment crossing his face as he looked up to hand it back to him.

Lovino hated them so much that he had rather stayed inside everyday than do them. For the longest time, he'd been content with knowing he'd never get them.

Then, he started to do them. All because some kid was playing outside with his brother instead of him. And, oddly enough, Lovino got good at times tables. Lovino got better and better until…

Until he was bolting from the school bus and skipping into his house, Feliciano giggling in tow. In his hand, Lovino held a paper with the most beautiful number at the top. A huge red 92. An A! And a sticker too because his teacher was nice like that.

Lovino would never admit how happy that little sticker, a flower smiling and saying "Wow!," made him.

But the smile on his face probably gave it away anyway. Certainly Feliciano could tell.

"Lovi! Lovi! Let me come in too!" he begged, but Lovino put up a hand.

"Dad will want me to go in alone. Go get your homework out and I'll help you in the kitchen," Lovino said. It was routine of them to spend snack time after school together and Lovino was excited that maybe their father would spend it with them too that day, once Lovino had made him proud and happy.

Feliciano nodded, still smiling, and scampered off, leaving Lovino to face the intimidating door of their father's office. He looked down at his paper and bit his lip, stifling the absurd smile that crept onto his face once again. Then, he reached out and knocked.

"Come in," the deep voice came and Lovino reached up to turn the doorknob. He stepped in to find his father, looking up from his desk, which was littered in papers, and pulling a hand through his hair. His eyebrows were knit tightly together.

"Dad?" Lovino asked reproachfully, holding the paper tight to his chest. He felt small in such a big room, his backpack, which he had still yet to take off, felt like it was weighing him down into the floor.

"Yes, Lovino? I'm very busy; do you need something?" his father responded, voice tired. Still, Lovino bounced on his toes and approached the desk, shoving the paper onto it.

"I got an A!" he announced, waiting for the praise. Waiting for his father to smile, to be proud of him.

What he didn't expect was for his father to scoop up the paper and hand it back, not giving it a single glance.

"That's nice, Lovino," he said and picked up another paper, one that he gave considerably more attention to. Without really meaning it, without looking up, he said, "Is there anything else?"

But Lovino was already struck still, eyes wide and staring at that flower sticker. It was mocking him with it's smile and it's "Wow!" It felt like a lie now.

Lovino looked back up, watching his father who had already moved on. He was shuffling through papers. In his mind, Lovino was no longer even there.

Until he looked up again and noticed his son.

"Yes, Lovino?" he asked, but Lovino was shaking his head. He turned and left the room. When he shut the door behind him, Lovino looked down at the paper again, empty.

Then an anger coursed through him and hot, burning tears streaked down his cheeks. He balled the paper up, never wanting to see it again. A 92. Not enough. A 92 wasn't enough.

"Lovino?" a softer voice called for him and Lovino looked up to find his brother. Feliciano had been waiting for him.

Lovino quickly swiped at his tears and shook his head. The concern on his brother's face was too much. Feliciano wasn't even six yet! What did he know?

He shouldn't be concerned. Feliciano shouldn't have to worry about his older brother. It was up to Lovino to take care of him, not the other way around! Lovino helped with Feliciano's homework and his nightmares and took care of him after school when their dad was too busy!

Lovino didn't want his little brother to see him cry. So he ran past him and up the stairs. He ran until he shut the door behind him and could handle his stupid tears and his stupid gasping breath and his stupid stupid 92 by himself.

"A 92 isn't enough," Lovino gasped, fingers curling on his cheeks and messing with his puffy eyes.

"Not enough…"

-/-

When Lovino got his grade back, his heart sunk so far he thought a black hole had opened up in his chest.

81%

He didn't remember the last time he had made a grade like that and he was feeling nauseous all of a sudden.

It isn't bad, he interrupted his panic, trying desperately to remind himself. An 81 isn't bad at all. An 81 is a B and a B-student is still a good student.

Still, a part of him despaired. He couldn't get that grade off his desk quick enough–a stupid English paper from a harsh teacher. He hadn't had her long enough for her to be surprised at the shoddy work, but Lovino couldn't help but feel her disappointment and the imaginary stares from around the room.

He snatched the paper off his desk and stuffed it in his bookbag, heart thumping louder and louder in his ears.

Lovino couldn't even consider what his father would say about this.

Was he really not a good student at all? Antonio and Feliciano always used to tell him that what he did wasn't healthy–all the studying and studying and studying–but was that the only way to make the grades he needed?

Lately, he'd felt a whole lot worse than he ever had when his study habits took up most of his time. It was like his whole world was tilting off balance. His feet couldn't stay on the floor; he couldn't hold on and had to handle being tossed about, confused and disoriented. Like the moving floors of a funhouse. Lovino had always hated funhouses.

As the class period sped by, uneventfully as Lovino had neither Antonio nor the idiot's absent cheer to focus on, Lovino tried to keep his mind off of the grade. After he'd escaped to the bustling hallways, Lovino made a beeline for his locker and practically shoved his head inside to get away from it all.

Something below his skin was bubbling sickeningly. His head was full of cotton balls, in a strange numbingly anxious way, like his anxiety was bringing the entire world to a stop around him. His breath was eerily steady, a contrast to how choking it felt in his throat.

He stared at the blank grey metal of the back of his locker, probably looking like a lunatic ostrich with his head in the wall, but everything was so much, too much, and he'd had to get away.

He pushed it back back back, to the back of his mind. Yellow tape and locks and bolts barred it from entering his waking thoughts. He assured himself he would deal with it later.

Lovino had only been in his pseudo solitude for a moment when a voice chirruped behind him, causing him to slam the locker door to his skull enough to make it vibrate. "Hey, Lovi!"

Clutching the back of his head, Lovino spun around, forgetting his grade and the nauseous feeling and the cotton in his skull.

His eyes lit as they came to rest on his brother. "Damn it, Feliciano! What have I told you about sneaking up on me? What if I had punched you in the face, huh? And where would you be then?"

"I'm sorry, fratello! Please don't punch me in the face! I like my face and I think punching would kind of hurt, don't you think?"

"Well, then watch it when you sneak up on people! If you weren't my brother you'd have a black eye and…" Lovino went on, throwing his hands up as Feliciano spoke in his own rapidfire way, either brother only listening to the other enough to reply in somewhat semblance of a conversation.

This bickering, if you could really call it that from Feliciano's side, was pretty normal for the two to communicate. It was unspoken between them that Feliciano's fear and Lovino's scorn were neither true, but it did get them odd looks wherever they went. Though that certainly wasn't why they did it.

The people that passed them in the halls gave them those strange looks too, but many of them didn't pay any mind. This was a regular occurrence, after all, to those who had been at the school for longer.

Finally, the two seemed to calm down and Lovino turned back to his locker, pretending to scoff. He could feel Feliciano's smile radiating into the back of his skull, like an annoyingly persistent sunbeam. Or maybe that was still the bruise where he'd hit it on the locker…

"What is it, Feliciano?" he huffed and started to unpack books from his bag. The air had seemed to sag around him, leaving Lovino a bit drained, but more grounded than he'd been before. Their bickering had taken up a good portion of the class change, though, and Lovino would certainly have to hurry to get to class on time. The things he did for his brother…

"Oh! Well, I was going to tell you about a study group I'm going to afterschool and thought maybe you'd want to come! It'd be a whole lot more fun to study with others, don't you think? And it's a great way to make friends!"

Lovino swung his locker shut and turned to his brother. "No thanks," he said indifferently and started his way up the hall.

"Aw, but Lovi!" Feliciano whined as he scampered after. Lovino rolled his eyes and hefted his backpack higher up his shoulder.

"No, Feliciano. I'm not interested in having to tutor a bunch of idiots who probably-" Lovino said, a frown working his face when the bong of the late bell sounded, followed closely by a loud yelp.

Lovino immediately spun around, knowing exactly where the sound had come from. If some fucker thought it was okay to pick on his brother–with him around-

But, no. No one was there behind him but Feliciano. Still, his brother had been the one to make that noise and he obviously looked alarmed.

Lovino's eyebrows drew together in concern and he stepped closer to his brother. "What's wrong?"

Then, Feliciano's eyes grew larger as he seemed to remember himself, pasting on a smile and visibly calming himself. He laughed dryly and waved Lovino off. "Oh, sorry! Nothing's wrong. Um, we should probably get to class though," Feliciano said and he started to step back. Lovino took another step towards him.

"Feli-" he started, but Feliciano was acting jumpier than usual and shook his head insistently.

"I've got to go, fratello!" he exclaimed, perhaps a little too loud. "Bye! See you at home!"

Then, without any chance for Lovino to ask again, Feliciano zipped down the hall in the opposite direction and disappeared. Lovino watched the space he had gone for a while, wondering what the hell was up with his brother.

He was certainly acting strange, jumpy. Why the heck had he yelped? It was louder than the school bell-

Lovino narrowed his eyes.

But, before he could dwell too long on it, a voice of a teacher roused him, threatening detention if he didn't get to class, so he took off and left the incident to think on later.

-/-

At the end of last period again, Antonio invited him to their tree and so they went. It was another silent day between them, but Antonio didn't seem as worn down as last time. Just quieter. Contemplative.

They sat against the trunk of the tree and connected on Mario Kart on DS. Since it was Antonio's game and Lovino didn't have it too, he ended up being one of the default guys, but, for once, he didn't complain. Things were too quiet between them and, though Antonio seemed stronger than when he'd initially returned from California, he still wasn't himself. Things still felt far too fragile between them.

They had just completed Waluigi's damn pinball course when Antonio spoke, adjusting his windbreaker against the slight autumn breeze and sighing in a way Antonio never had before those past couple of weeks.

"You never talked about your mom after you visited her," he said and nothing he could have said would have taken Lovino more off guard.

And so, smartly, Lovino replied, "What?" eyes going wide as he stared in bafflement at his friend.

But Antonio shrugged like what he had said wasn't completely weird. "I was just wondering if you got to know her. If she was nice."

Lovino looked long and hard at his friend, but Antonio didn't look up. He was going through the different circuits on his DS, trying to decide which to do next. He probably wasn't even looking at them, though. Just giving his hands something to do and eyes somewhere to be.

"I guess," Lovino answered and tried to sound indifferent. If this was what Antonio wanted to talk about, then Lovino would oblige. "Feli was really excited, but when isn't he?"

At that, Antonio cracked a half smile and Lovino was surprised the relief that flooded his system at even just that. "Feli liked her?"

Lovino rolled his eyes. "Feliciano likes everyone."

"I would like to see the exception," Antonio mused and set down his DS, stretching out. "But, what about you?"

Lovino went silent for a second, wondering what to say… wondering what he could say. How could he possibly say a thing against his mother when one of Antonio's own parents had just…

Lovino shrugged. "She was okay."

"Okay?" Antonio asked curiously. "Aren't you glad you got to meet her?"

Lovino looked away and chewed on his lip. Fuck. Did they really have to talk about this?

When Lovino took too long to answer, Antonio spoke up again. "I'm not going to lie," he said and sat back to look at the sky. "I ask because I've been thinking a lot about my dad lately."

That seemed kind of obvious, but like hell Lovino was going to say anything.

"I didn't see him much. And, it's not like we didn't get along, but… now that he's gone I feel like I didn't know him at all," Antonio said. "He was a workaholic and him and my mom used to fight all the time. He collected CDs and was probably way too lenient with me at times. He liked watching baseball with me and the last time I saw him-" Antonio paused; the air vibrated with tension. "The last time I saw him he gave me a heart attack and said he'd see me at Christmas." Antonio laughed then. "Those two not actually being related."

Antonio paused, maybe so Lovino could take that all in, maybe so he himself could. He squinted up at the blue sky, the lumpy clouds.

"I thought I knew my dad," he then said, quieter this time. "And, still, I can't connect that with the man who got shot for standing up against some mugger in the street. In defense of some woman he didn't even know."

Antonio set down his DS beside him in the grass and pulled in his legs, tucking his chin against them. He looked out, and Lovino followed his gaze, to the park dotted with a guy walking his dog and a couple playing frisbee. He heard Antonio sighed.

"It's funny. I know he wasn't a bad guy, but he was also the guy who picked work over his family. How the heck can someone like that choose a random person over his life?" Antonio asked, sounding lost. "My dad was never… a hero."

"But maybe he was." Antonio continued after a moment and Lovino looked back over at him. Antonio glanced at the movement before going back to watching the frisbee guys. "When I think about it, there were plenty of things my dad could have been and I wouldn't have even known. And it's not because I didn't see him much either. I guess it's really because I didn't try to see past the man I had already made him out to be. A good man but not great. A good dad, but…" Antonio swallowed, and finished with a whispered, "Yeah."

Lovino didn't know what to say, so he didn't say anything. Instead, he thought.

If I never met my mom and she died, would I have regretted it too? If she died now would I regret not trying when I did meet her?

Because, yeah, he hadn't tried when he'd met her. He'd left it up to Feliciano, the one that really had wanted to be there and sat back, watching it happen. He had been there for his brother, to support him and protect him.

The few times they'd seen their mother while in Oregon had amounted to nothing for Lovino and he had been content with that. He had never wanted more than what he'd had with his mother anyway.

But now he was wondering.

Who really was the woman he had met? Who'd abandoned her children and moved cross country away from them? Was she kind? Was she funny? Would she even like Lovino?

She had tried, in the phone calls and the days they'd met up, but Lovino had been more than uninterested at the time, so he really couldn't say. He remembered Feliciano talking about him during one of their conversations, about how he was lining up to be valedictorian already.

Maybe she would be… proud of Lovino?

The very idea made Lovino freeze, his insides battling between hot and cold, a hope and a readying disappointment.

81%

No, she wouldn't have been- couldn't have.

Lovino snapped out of it at the sound of Antonio clearing his throat, a sniffle letting him know his friend was quickly trying to piece himself back together. Lovino wanted to reach out, but his body was tense.

He pushed it all to the back of his mind, squishing it in behind the yellow tape for later.

"Anyway," Antonio said, reaching for his DS, "Next circuit?"

Lovino nodded mutely and gathered his own device.

-/-

Lovino decided to make spaghetti for dinner, Feliciano's favorite. Not for Feliciano, of course. Lovino just felt like having spaghetti, and if it aligned with Feli's monthly therapy appointment, then so be it.

Lovino was the best cook in their family and he knew it. Feliciano was good too and, though Lovino would never admit it, his brother's lasagna was a lot better than his own, but he was also messy and Lovino would always be left to wipe the red sauced counters up. Because of this, and the fact that their father was busy (and a horrible cook) Lovino did most of the cooking in the Vargas household.

Sometimes, it got boring to him, to be honest. He was no cook, even if he was damn good at it. Putting ingredients together and testing recipes took up time, time that Lovino had plenty of these days it felt, but it wasn't something he was passionate about. With all this stupid time he had, like now, cooking sauce that needed barely a thought at his spoon, Lovino thought a lot about that. What was he passionate about?

Lovino couldn't remember a time he'd focused on something so intently as he did on papers and assignments and tests. Maybe a doodle every now and again… maybe his toy cars when he had been eight… but now?

He wanted to do his best to impress his father, to reach that future he was always going on about, achieve his dreams. But, somewhere along the way, Lovino had ceased having dreams. Lovino couldn't think of a day past his present.

All this focus on his grades had been to ensure a brighter future. All that energy and time into studying was to get into a good college, get scholarships, breach into the world of the better will succeed, survival of the fittest.

But he couldn't envision what that future held. And that- that scared him a bit. It wasn't that he didn't want a future, no. He wanted to reach for something, strive for the things that mattered to him. It was just that… he couldn't even begin to fathom what those things might be.

Lovino had stopped stirring the sauce, looking down into the bubbly red goop with its chunks of tomato and flakes of green seasoning. He couldn't see it, eyes unfocused and far off; not until the front door burst open and Lovino startled.

His arm twitched, sending a blob onto the counter and he cursed. "Damn it, Feliciano!"

And, sure enough, Feliciano bounded into the kitchen. "Oooo, is that spaghetti?"

"It might be, but you won't be getting any if it all gets flung onto the counter!" Lovino scolded and Feliciano smiled without remorse. Instead, he leaped over and hung his arms off his brother.

"Oh, thank you thank you, Lovi!" he cheered. "You are the nicest brother ever!"

"Yeah yeah," Lovino grumbled, but he smirked ever so slightly. When Feliciano pulled away he disguised it with a scowl, one that Feliciano obviously saw straight through. It was always like that, but Lovino never dropped it and Feliciano never said anything. "How was it?" Lovino asked in order to brush off Feliciano's warm stare and turned back to the stove, mopping up the sauce with a rag that was sure to stain.

Lovino didn't have to be looking at his brother to feel the energy of the room drop. From the corner of his eye, Lovino saw him slide onto one of the barstools so he could lean across the counter and talk. His brother was noticeably subdued but, like Feliciano did for him, Lovino did not let up that he could see.

It had taken a while for Lovino to wrestle with his first instinct, to demand who or what had made his brother sad and he would tear them to shreds, and, after that, to tame the frown that always appeared either way. Nonchalance wasn't easy for Lovino.

"I'm going back next week," Feliciano said and Lovino felt the beginnings of that frown before he controlled it again. Control wasn't his forte either.

"Something wrong?" he asked and, damn it, he had an edge to his voice. His brother quickly shook his head.

"No no! Just an extra session, you know?" Feliciano said nervously and Lovino suppressed the urge to sigh. He nodded.

Sometimes, Feliciano would have a rougher time than usual. Lovino knew that, knew it by the way Feliciano had jumped at the school bell yesterday, or when he'd come to Lovino's room when he couldn't sleep. It wasn't unusual for it to happen at times, and it wasn't unusual for Feli's therapist to suggest an extra session when it did, but Lovino still couldn't help but worry.

"Okay," Lovino said, keeping his eyes on the mess as he finished, biting down the stiffness of his voice. He picked up the rag and threw it to the corner of the counter to get later, looking up at Feliciano where he was perched, watching him in worry.

Feliciano really shouldn't have been the one worried here. The idiot worried that Lovino would be worried, like an absurd circle of neverending worry, but, if he really was going through a patch, he would be worried about plenty else as it was.

So Lovino shrugged, quieting down the rising tension in his gut. "Tell me if I can help." His body language was deliberately casual, but his eyes told another story, one that Feliciano got every time. Lovino wasn't good with subtly but he tried for Feliciano and it seemed to mean a lot to the boy. Feli smiled.

"Yeah," he said quietly. "Thanks, Lovino."

Lovino nodded, letting the pent up energy inside him take its course and settle down. He wanted it to leave leave leave- but he could only shove it to the back of his mind, let it mush together where things had been building up for days. It had lasted this long, it could for a little while longer.

He focused on stirring the pasta, lifting the spoon to pick at a noodle. "Hmm…" he hummed, examining it. Feliciano leaned forward, eyes sparkling.

"Is it ready?" he asked, eager. Lovino smirked a devious little smirk and threw the noodle at his brother's face. It stuck to his cheek.

"Seems to be so," he said and Feliciano squinted, trying to see it, before bursting into laughter.

"Fratello! Don't be so mean!" he giggled and peeled the piece off his face to eat. Lovino shrugged and went to turn off the stove.

"You asked," Lovino replied easily, but his brother was already moving on, jumping up from his stool.

"I'll get the plates!"

It was nice to see his brother's worry slip off so easily. It was a lot rarer than most would think.

-/-

It was later that week that Lovino laid in bed, world around him still.

He watched the window and the daylight it let through its closed blinds, school clothes still on his back, shoes still on his feet, backpack dangling from his hand to the floor. Things around him were horribly still. He was horribly still. The stillness did not strike him like glass, though–fragile, clear. Instead, it was strong and overbearing. Nothing could break the stillness around him.

Until something did.

"Lovi, I'm going to study group again! Are you sure you don't wanna come with?"

Feliciano's voice reached through the door and, by the sound of it, down the hall. He must have been on his way out, standing by the railing on his way down to call to Lovino's bedroom. The bedroom still weighed heavy in all its still, but the noise helped Lovino's grappling, eerily calm mind from caving in on itself.

Lovino found his voice and turned his brother down. It was a surprise he'd found the energy to project, but better that than get up or, worse yet, make his brother come to him.

He felt his brother's absence like an added weight. An empty house engulfed everything in quiet, in motionlessness. Lovino tried to search for the tiny things, always with sound, light, motion, some sort of electronic or something, but it was as if time had frozen, leaving Lovino forever in a world without its progression.

What a lonely life that must be; to be stuck where no one else can move, talk, do anything, really. Like moving about in a dream where no one is quite… right. Except, even then, you might have the illusion that at least they were there.

Why was Lovino like this all of a sudden, he wondered. Things had been going well that week–a lot better than before. Antonio and him were meeting up again at their tree and his best friend would sometimes open up. Antonio had become a lot more open again since their last conversation there. And Feliciano too–no more nightmares, he was less jumpy and anxious, it seemed whatever that therapist talked with him about in their extra session really worked.

Things weren't perfect, but they were getting better and, hell, that felt like the beginnings of sun after a season of rain.

So why was Lovino doing this now?

The yellow taped thoughts were catching up, building up, pushing back. They wanted out, to plague his mind and roam free in the sky of his mind, birds flown out of a cage. Lovino still wasn't ready to deal with them.

Not enough, a little voice echoed in his mind nonetheless and it didn't echo with the sentiment of an unsatisfactory grade alone.

He wasn't enough for his father. Wouldn't be for his mother. For his brother. For his best friend. He couldn't help Antonio with what he was dealing with, or Feliciano with his.

Yet, Lovino couldn't pin that down as his problem, or any of them that threatened to flood from their yellow tape. Lovino couldn't figure out anything that weighed him down, though that must have been a part of it, right?

Right?

Lovino closed his eyes to try to focus, but it didn't work. His eyes crept back open to look around, lost. His mind buzzed about, static and motion and white noise.

He let go of his backpack strap, remembering it at last. With this, he remembered the discomfort of his clothes and shoes, but let them be. Better just stay where he was.

If he could, he would welcome sleep. It was still too early and he didn't feel particularly tired, but if it could get him away from this unreal reality then…

He would not try for sleep though. If he were to try, then he would only frustrate himself–perhaps make everything worse. It was better now to just stay as still as possible, give in to the stillness all around him.

Perhaps this was what people experienced when they meditated. If so, Lovino couldn't find the appeal. It was suffocating like this, oppressive. His mind did not feel free, or open; just jailed into a claustrophobic cage.

Meditation was supposed to open the mind, right? This couldn't be that. This had to be the opposite maybe. Something really close, but gone completely wrong.

An old memory flashed through his mind, made him cringe and want to curl up and clutch something tight. Dismissal. Disappointment. Not enough.

Had his father even been listening that afternoon? Had he realized how proud Lovino had been of himself–how skewed he now thought where a 92 wasn't good enough; where an 81 was the end of the world?

Had he ever considered that not hounding his son to study every minute of the day was what a real parent would do? To let him play with friends instead of keeping him inside for almost an entire summer doing schoolwork when school wasn't in session? Had he ever thought to listen when Lovino prattled on about stupid little kid things because he was a kid? Or listen when he was proud of a spelling test?

Lovino's heart beat a single thump in his ear, the lone motion to accompany his perplexing still. It sounded like the ticks of a clock, counting away wasted time.

Dad, did you ever hear me at all?

Lovino squeezed his eyes tight, wrapping his thoughts tighter and tighter in that yellow tape, until they could not move, could not wave for his attention.

Lovino wasn't ready yet. It would have to wait.

-/-

Lovino must have fallen asleep because, when he woke up to the dull hum of his phone in his pocket, another note of discomfort other than sleeping in jeans and tennis shoes, he had jolted awake.

The room was darker, but not night. If he had to guess, sunset was probably soon. The stillness was no longer about, instead replaced by a grogginess that Lovino attempted to wipe away with the sleepies (as Feliciano called them) from his eyes. He was tangled in blankets somehow, though he couldn't imagine having moved from where he'd been lying.

It wasn't a surprise, he supposed, that his sleep had been somewhat restless.

Digging out his phone, Lovino looked at the screen then looked away. He couldn't read a word with his vision so foggy, so he blinked and shook his head before coming back to try again.

Then, his eyes widened.

"Dad?" he said to the phone, as if it could confirm before he'd even picked it up. Then, he answered in a flash. This couldn't have been good. Even the worst of his dad's scolding always waited until he was home.

When his father's deep and steady voice spoke through the line, it felt as though it drifted into his ear, jostled about his brain, assaulting and screaming and wrecking. Lovino felt the thoughts wiggling around in their tape.

Lovino could only hum his affirmative, too stunned to even consider forming words. He noticed he was shaking long after his father hung up, the line dead, while Lovino would have to wait.

Wait.

Wait.

Wait-

Thoughts gnashed at the tape with their teeth, ripped at it with claws, tore it to shreds, tiny tiny pieces-

He couldn't push them away any longer, lock them up or ignore them.

And, suddenly, Lovino couldn't breathe.

CV: These boys can't catch a break... and keep getting bad news over the phone. Thanks for reading guys; until next time