Since Feliciano left, Lovino was quickly beginning to see how much his brother had impacted his life. It was two days after the airport and Lovino realized he wouldn't be able to take it much longer.

For starters, the house was perpetually empty and quiet. Still. And, given Lovino's track record with still lately, it wasn't something he let himself dwell on, in fear of what it would do.

He turned on lights to random rooms of the house, and TVs and radios and anything he could to give the dark abode life. He started leaving messes around, like the ones Feli would have created and Lovino would have gotten annoyed over.

It being winter break, Lovino had very little to occupy his time. There was no school work, and no more did he stay up late watching whole seasons of sitcoms with his brother. He stayed away from the kitchen, uneasy with the space without Feli's opera and sauce spatters on the counters. Even if he tried, he doubted he could replicate them.

There was a hole, no, holes, in his life, and their presence made him aware of more than just an empty house and lost sleep. They sat next to each other; the initial, a hole around him that he had tried to fill with taking care of his brother and worrying about school again. He had been trying to fill two spaces with the content that belonged in one.

Lovino had never gotten used to that first hole, he noticed; only ignored it. Now, it was impossible to, though. Impossible to ignore two holes.

And impossible to sleep without stupid sitcoms on his laptop. And a brother squished into his stupid bed with him. And anxiety gnawing at his gut in a familiar tune akin to a twisted lullaby.

Yet, he had the stupid sitcoms, and anxiety unmeasurable, and still no sleep. He had grown used to his brother being there for him as much as he was there for Feli. In the assurance that Feliciano was okay, Lovino could sleep.

Despite receiving some texts and a few calls from Feli since he'd left, Lovino felt as if he could never know.

That night, though, with a horrible glare of light from his laptop shining across the room, his brother was somehow the last thing on Lovino's mind. He'd tried to free his twisting thoughts, shift his mind elsewhere, only to climb out of one hole and fall into another.

Antonio.

He wondered how his friend was doing. It had been months since Antonio's dad had died, yet at school he was still quiet, withdrawn, very un-Antonio-like. He had stopped coming to their tree; stopped talking to Lovino much at all, really. Lovino had thought things would get better, as long as he'd given Antonio time. Lovino was still making the effort anyhow. Antonio still seemed to like Lovino too. The kiss hadn't scared him off-

The kiss. Now that was one thing Lovino refused to think about. And, so, as soon as his mind conjured it, he dropped the line of thought altogether. After shaking his head, Lovino pulled himself up from his ruined bed, blankets tossed left and right from his incessant shifting, and moved toward the bedroom door.

It was too much to just lay there. His thoughts would devour him whole if he gave them the opportunity. Instead, he decided to take a shower. The motions would be comforting, surely, and the heat and water would help clear his head. Stepping into the stream not long after, Lovino forced himself to take a long breath. As he released it, he touched the water and immediately drew it back, hissing. It was a little hot.

It didn't take long to get used to and he soaked in it. Slowly, Lovino felt his muscles relax and he closed his eyes for a moment before reaching for the shampoo. Going through the motions, it was simple to not think of a thing. It was an easy existence, without difficult, mind-occupying thoughts to distract him, yet without the bothers that would conjure when idle. It was lulling him into a relaxed state closer and closer to, dare he even think it, tired.

After rinsing his hair and washing his body, Lovino was ready to curl up and sleep, but the water wouldn't release him from its hold yet. Instead, as tired as he was, he sat down on the shower floor, legs too weak to carry on. Reaching behind him, Lovino pushed the knob down to turn off the water and continued to sit, trying to find his energy again.

As wound up as he had been lately, it was as if it all had finally exhausted his body. It was sort of a relief, to have the world a fuzzy liminal existence around him. He touched the smooth tub floor with his palm and appreciated its cold, a contrast to the heat that had provided him such relief before. Lovino couldn't imagine if it was because the hot water had become too much, or if his mind could not imagine a life where he had caught the short break of relaxation, without the shock that cold linoleum provided, reality creeping back in.

Lovino shook his head, picking it up from where it had been watching the contact through lidded eyes. He took in a breath, one far different than that which had been taken on his way into the shower—not a breath that loosened him, but one that built him up, prepared him for his normal state of existence—Lovino picked himself off the bath's floor and stepped out of the shower.

He toweled himself off and dressed, the peace he had just had slipping away bit by bit. It would not do for Lovino to forget the tense state which he lived for a single night of tranquil sleep, he supposed. By the time he had gotten back to his room, he was considerably calmer, but still far, far off of sleep that night.

Lovino looked at his bed for a few minutes, contemplating whether he should straighten out the blankets or just get in and hope it wouldn't bother him too much. Either option, honestly, sounded like a bad idea. He doubted it would help. He doubted it wouldn't help. He doubted the likelihood of laying down in anyway and finding sleep. Then, an idea hit him—one so familiar that Lovino was surprised he hadn't thought of it before.

He shook his head. He wasn't doing that. That was honestly dumb.

Lovino was already putting on his shoes.

At his door, Lovino peered out into the hallway. His dad's office light was off, so he must have already gone to bed. Quietly, Lovino snuck passed and down the stairs, heading straight for the backdoor. Like an old dance, Lovino exited the house, hopped the fence into Antonio's backyard, and approached the familiar window.

It was only as Lovino was close enough that, in a few steps, he'd be able to knock on it, alerting the other boy that he was there, that he questioned himself again.

What, exactly, was he doing? Hadn't he just finished thinking about this before his shower? Antonio needed space. He didn't need Lovino knocking on his window in the middle of the night. He didn't need Lovino coming to him with his own problems and intruding and taking up space in his bed and keeping him up and stealing blankets like he always did. Antonio didn't need any of that right now. He probably just wanted to be alone.

The thought made Lovino sad, he'll admit. Maybe not aloud, but, yeah, thinking about Antonio dealing with his shit alone didn't make Lovino feel too hot. Antonio had never been the type before. He didn't like going through things alone—not like Lovino. Lovino used solitude to shift through his emotions, get himself together. Then he could accept other people around him. Then he could deal with questions or gross concern or whatever.

But, Antonio- Lovino thought about the first days Antonio had gotten back from California, of being at their tree and staying quietly together. He remembered being so angry when everyone else avoided Antonio at school because he wasn't his normal sunny self. He remembered playing MarioKart and Antonio being the one to speak up when he was ready.

It was the company and the patience that helped Antonio… right?

Lovino was supposed to know Antonio better than anyone else, he thought as he looked at the window. So why was he still having doubts?

Taking in a breath, Lovino closed his eyes as if he was back in the safety of his own home about to step into the shower. He relaxed his shoulders, commanded his muscles to release all tension. The air was cold in his lungs, the December air soaking through the light layer of clothing he hadn't thought much about before leaving his house. He didn't let himself think about it. He thought about the heat of his shower and blankets, and the sun above their tree in the summer, and Antonio's warm words and laugh and smile.

He stepped closer to the window, opening his eyes, and knocked. His breath stayed caged, claustrophobic against the bottom of his lungs, but he was far more relaxed than he thought he'd be able to be. He hoped Antonio would come.

And he did.

Antonio's face was surprised when it appeared, looking Lovino up and down as if he wasn't sure if he was imagining him there. Lovino felt a happy contentment at seeing Antonio, but he just lifted a hand and waved. Antonio opened the window, still looking bewildered as he asked, "Lovino?"

"Were you expecting anyone else at your window?" he asked, lifting an eyebrow with a smirk. He was rewarded with a tilt of Antonio's lips.

"I wasn't even expecting you," he said and Lovino flushed.

"Yeah, well, when are you ever?" Lovino stated more than asked, looking away and trying to pass off his embarrassment onto Antonio. Maybe if Antonio hadn't been expecting him, it was his own fault.

There was a small chuckle from Antonio; weak, but it sounded a lot more like Antonio than Lovino had heard in months. Lovino looked back and Antonio stepped a little to the side. "Come in?"

Lovino just nodded and climbed in, like he had done for years, like he hadn't done in so long. It felt like it had been decades and no time at all. He was glad to be back.

He was still nervous though. He stood in the middle of the room as Antonio closed the window, turning back to him. For a moment, it seemed as though neither of them knew what to do and simply stared at each other.

Finally, Antonio said, "Couldn't sleep?"

Lovino shrugged, as if in response, not willing to admit anything. "You?" he asked instead.

Antonio shrugged too. There was silence again.

For a moment, Lovino allowed himself to take in the room. It hadn't changed much in the time he hadn't been there. The desk was still messy, with papers all over it and a small space where Antonio's laptop laid, untouched. The closet was ajar, showing a floor of kicked off shoes, but semi-neat shirts hung up on hangers. The bed was a bit messy, but inhabitable. There was a singular pillow kicked toward the end of the bed, and, for a moment, Lovino was sure it must have been the one Antonio usually set aside for him. Upon closer inspection, though, it looked like one of the more random ones. Meanwhile, his pillow was still toward the head of the bed, smooshed against the wall, but still close.

Then, there was the soft music that he hadn't noticed before. It sounded upbeat, a happy sort of song, but nostalgic in a way. Not because the song seemed to be, but the style of music reminded Lovino of songs his babysitter from years and years ago would have listened to. It was turned very low, like Antonio had wanted it as some sort of background music, probably while he fell asleep. Looking around, Lovino found the source—an old CD player with green digital numbers and a plastic face and silver speakers.

"And if you like to talk for hours, just go ahead now-"

"Sleep, then?" Antonio asked, and Lovino's attention was ripped from the song. Antonio was gesturing to the bed and he nodded automatically. Antonio moved over to it, slipping under the covers and rearranging the pillows. He moved his own closer to the wall, placing Lovino's on the other side and giving him room.

Lovino stepped closer, suddenly feeling awkward. This was normal for them, yet… so much had changed. He stared at the space, at the pillow, for a moment, before climbing in, stubbornly refusing to acknowledge his hesitations. Screw that; this was his best friend.

Right? After all this time…

The comforter was warm and fluffy, as it always was. The pillow under his head felt like home. Still, Lovino refused to get too comfortable, those feelings of awkwardness still lurking over him. Next to him, Antonio shifted. Lovino shifted too. Then, they were both awfully still, as if unsure. Not wanting to disturb the other.

It had never been like this before.

Lovino chewed on his lip, wondering if this had been a good idea after all. He'd thought he'd known Antonio, known that he wouldn't want to be alone, but maybe he did. Lovino had never been good at reading people before; why should this be the exception?

Then, Lovino chanced a look to his right. His eyes locked with Antonio's and they both froze, having been caught looking at one another. It was one moment of complete silence, neither moved, then it was like all the tension broke and shattered between them. Antonio smiled. Lovino smiled. And they laughed.

It was from there that they shifted, and Lovino was finally comfortable, facing Antonio and pulling the covers up to his chin. Antonio faced him as well, close together as they talked in low, but friendly tones.

Just like that, things were back to as if they'd never been apart. They talked about trivial things, all in the dim of Antonio's room, the light of the moon shining through the window.

And it was the closest Lovino had been to Antonio in so long. His curls tickled his temple and his green eyes sparkled in the dim light. Lovino wanted to reach up and run a hand along his cheek, reassure himself that he was truly there.

But he didn't. Because that wasn't how things were between them. And he wouldn't mention the kiss and he wouldn't look at Antonio like he had hung the stars—at least, not more than usual. He just had to remind himself how dumb the other boy was. It shouldn't be hard.

Especially when Antonio acted like himself for the first time in a long time. When he acted happy and carefree and light-hearted, open and friendly in a way that made Lovino comfortable enough to tease him with "bastard" and "stupid Tonio…" again.

And, heart light, air absent of the buzzing stillness and loneliness of his own house, Lovino, for the first time since his brother had gone, slept without difficulty.

-/-

In the morning, Antonio's mom woke them up.

"Boys, I made pancakes," she announced at the door and, drowsily, Lovino squinted open his eyes, looking toward the voice. Momentarily, he had forgotten where he was, but he was so warm, so comfortable, and the person next to him so soft, he didn't care. Meanwhile, Antonio had groaned and stuffed his head under the covers, as if to block out the noise. Lovino heard chuckling at the door.

That was when he realized. Lovino blinked open his eyes, a lot more cognicent than before, and looked up at Ms. Carriedo. She raised an eyebrow, hand on her hip as she looked down at the two of them. For a moment, Lovino was a little kid again, caught sneaking into Antonio's room and causing his father to nearly call in a missing child to the police. He wasn't neglectful enough to not notice when his eleven year old son disappeared. These days he wouldn't care; Lovino was old enough in his eyes to take care of himself.

Then, once the sudden fear subsided, Lovino could only feel embarrassed. Ms. Carriedo had known for a long time they did this, almost as soon as it had started. At first, she had tried sending Lovino back home, as his father must have been worried when he left without saying, but she'd come to accept the reality, and this as part of the boys' relationship, as the years went by. She'd come to understand. Even so, though, Lovino could never stop feeling caught when Ms. Carriedo mentioned it or saw him. He was usually out by the morning, having to get ready for school since, on the weekends they would have regular sleepovers, so it wasn't something he'd ever gotten used to.

Lovino wished he could hide his head under the covers like Antonio, but there was no way he'd do that to Ms. Carriedo. So, unable to hide his blushing face, Lovino sat up.

"Hi, Ms. Carriedo," he said and she smiled.

"Hi, Lovino," she said, and it was so quietly happy that it confused him. Her eyes shifted to the heap that was her son and back. "Get him up so breakfast doesn't get cold."

Lovino nodded. "Yes, ma'am," he said, turning to rouse Antonio. He'd pretend to be gentle while she was there, but probably hit him with a pillow once she left. Antonio was a deep sleeper and Lovino didn't have the patience. Besides, a sleepy whiny Antonio was hilarious.

"And Lovino?"

Lovino paused, turning back.

"I'm happy to see you back," she said, then left. Lovino sat, frozen, the words still trying to form some sort of understanding in his head.

Then, he smiled, turning back to Antonio like he had to hide it from the door Ms. Carriedo had just walked out of. After another moment, thinking to himself and feeling a quiet happiness take root in his gut, Lovino grabbed his pillow.

"Antonio, wake up!" he shouted and whacked the other boy.

-/-

Over a short time, their friendship became regular again. Lovino was welcomed over at any time, though Antonio's mom made it clear he had always been, and Antonio made sure Lovino was taking advantage of it. He went over for dinners and movie marathons and a whole lot of midnight window crawling. And every morning he woke up in Antonio's bed, Ms. Carriedo would just smile at them as they shuffled their way to the kitchen for food.

While they were together, they stuck to light topics of conversation, such as school gossip and silly TV shows. Late into the night they would giggle into their pillows and be happier than either had been for a while. Lovino had almost forgotten how much better it was to be there, in the Carriedo's house, or next to his best friend.

They had about a week of that no-worry life before Antonio was due to go to California for Christmas. He would be visiting Francis and Gilbert, but also some other family that were all still there. Antonio didn't mention how he was spending his first Christmas in a very long time without his dad.

One day, Ms. Carriedo brought up the trip when they all sat in the living room, watching reruns, asking Antonio if he had packed yet. Then, to Lovino's utmost surprise, she had turned to him.

"What are your plans for the holidays, Lovino?" she asked, and Lovino had to pause to think.

Usually, he would spend them with his brother, making sweet things to eat or watching Christmas movies throughout the day. Their father usually had Christmas off, and he would stick around to watch movies for part of the day, but then he would go to the church to listen to the choir.

Lovino didn't know what he'd do this year with his brother gone. Would any of it be worth it in an empty house?

So, Lovino shrugged, trying to look indifferent. Ms. Carriedo didn't seem to mind.

"Well, you're welcome to come over here. I'm making Christmas cookies to send to family and I'd love an extra set of hands."

"You aren't visiting them this year?" he asked, knowing that, though her son was usually gone for the holidays, Ms. Carriedo still had family in New York to spend it with. Most of her family still lived in California, some of which Antonio would probably see over the trip, but this had been where they'd moved because other family lived here too.

But Ms. Carriedo shook her head. "Not this year. They're on vacation."

At this, Lovino noticed Antonio looked particularly guilty, and he could imagine why. He had never been comfortable with leaving his mother for Christmas, but she'd always had people she spent it with too. Now she would be alone.

But Lovino could help with that. "Sure, Ms. Carriedo. I'd love to come over."

Ms. Carriedo beamed and clapped her hands together. "Great!" she exclaimed. "We'll have a fun time. Oh, and we can't forget to put up the tree before you go, Antonio."

Antonio nodded, his guilt looking somewhat abated, but not entirely. He smiled and said, "We can do that tomorrow. And Lovino can help!"

"Hey, don't say I'll do things before you ask!"

"Aw, but Loviii, I'll let you hang the star!"

"Idiot," Lovino grumbled, but he was already sold, star or not.

-/-

By the time Antonio was gone, off to California, Lovino was already relapsing to sleepless nights and anxious thoughts. The day Antonio was gone, Lovino was scrolling through his phone, clicking away at Snapchat stories and Tumblr posts, but he was awfully aware of the quiet of the house. His dad had left late that day, and the sounds of the shower and smell of burnt toast had been enough to ease Lovino for a while, but now, with his father off to the office, it was beginning to grate on him again.

So he decided to take a page from Antonio's book. Jumping from his bed, Lovino walked over to his desk and opened his computer, clicking open to the appropriate website. Selecting a playlist at random, Lovino turned up the volume and went back to his bed, reassuming the same position and picking up his phone. The sound of music blared loud enough that, for now, the rest of the house didn't exist. Only where the music touched, the confines of these walls, did, and it grounded Lovino.

Then, there was another sound that permeated the air. A weird ringing, and it wasn't coming from the phone in his hand.

Lovino jumped up and was his laptop in record time. He answered the Skype call to a smiling brother.

"Hi, fratello!" Feliciano greeted cheerily. Lovino's lips tilted up at the sight of his brother and he greeted him as well. He turned down the volume on his music, which still played through the call, and let his brother talk all he wished, catching him up on the happenings of his life. He looked tired, but his smile was genuine and that relieved Lovino. Maybe this really would be good for him.

They talked about Oregon, Grandpa Roma, even their mom, who Feliciano had already visited once since being there. Feliciano told him about Ludwig, the bastard Lovino had met last time and was apparently visiting his own grandfather for the holidays. It was a long conversation, talking about all the things that had happened since Feli had gone. When he asked what Lovino had been up to, Lovino didn't have a whole lot to tell, much to his brother's disappointment.

"So, you've just been moping around over break?" Feliciano asked, looking put out. It made something squirm in Lovino's gut. He shrugged.

"I mean, I've also been to the Carriedos," he said, hoping that would placate his brother. Instead, it far too excited him.

"Really?" Feliciano asked, looking ecstatic. "You're talking to Antonio again? How is he?"

So Lovino told him a bit about that too.

"Oh, that's so good," his brother gushed, relieved. "I guess that means…" he said, but trailed off.

Lovino frowned and tilted his head. "That means what?" he asked, but, as if coming back from a train of thought, Feliciano looked back, shaking his head.

"Nothing," he said. "Nevermind."

Suspicious, Lovino's frown lessened but, because he had been just relieved to receive this call, to see evidence that his brother was okay and see an actual genuine smile out of him, he let it go. He could drag it out of him later. Right now, Feliciano was still getting used to Oregon, still settling in and recovering. Lovino would leave him be.

After that, the call didn't take much longer and, by the time they signed off and the screen went black, then back to its homescreen, Lovino felt a lot better. He breathed, relieved to have seen his brother, to see he was doing okay and was at least happy.

He was just pushing away from the computer when, to his surprise, he received another call on the program.

Lovino pulled back to the desk and answered to find three faces squished into the camera lens, causing him to jump back and yelp. He heard laughter and saw as the three backed away. He was already yelling.

"You bastards! You scared the shit out of me! What the hell? Don't you know how to have a proper video call because I just got off a call with my brother and he had a lot more manners than the three of you!"

"Aw, you talked to Feli?" Gilbert asked. "How's he doing? Luddy told me they've been working the store again, poor bastards," Gilbert did not, in fact, sound very sympathetic as he laughed. Francis was rolling his eyes but, visible on the screen, Lovino could see Antonio had frozen as much as Lovino had.

They hadn't talked about Feliciano at all in the week they'd hung out again. Everyone knew he had left, of course. Feliciano had said his goodbyes at school, and even gone over to the Carriedos specifically. Everyone knew that Feliciano had moved, meanwhile, Lovino had stayed. There had been a lot of looks in the hallways, looks that he had mostly ignored, some of puzzlement and some of pity.

But Antonio had never let on any of the sort. He knew, but he didn't ask with words or expressions. They had kept things light, afraid to tear the patched friendship between them.

"My brother is fine," Lovino replied carefully, not giving anymore than that. There was a silence then, and Lovino was sure that they were regretting talking to him. But he didn't want them to hang up. If they did, he would be alone again. And the house, empty as it was, was just too still.

"Lovino, have you seen the 1938 film adaptation for Pygmalion?" Francis asked suddenly, and Lovino looked back toward the screen. Francis was in the middle of the three, looking directly into the camera as if the past few minutes had never happened. He had cut it away, revised it out of their conversation. Now, they were talking about that freaking play again?

Lovino latched on to it like a lifeline. "No, why would I have?"

"You must. It is… well, quite the film. Well made, accurate, very great adaptation until the last thirty seconds of the movie, I would say."

"The last thirty seconds?" Lovino asked, and, with that, he was swept away by a torrent of Francis' criticism. And, as much as the French bastard annoyed him, it was a relief to focus on something trivial like this, and he forgot the conversation about his brother.

"-I mean, how could they do that?" Francis exclaimed. "Not only did they ruin a perfectly good film like that in the last few seconds—in essence, throw a bomb on it and running away—but also manipulate one of the most important themes of the play until it is unrecognizable. It's atrocious."

"I need to watch this movie," Lovino said, feeling offended without even having seen it yet.

"You do. It will be simultaneously one of the best and worst adaptations you've ever seen," Francis agreed. Meanwhile, Gilbert, to the right, looked bored out of his mind, having rolled onto his back to scroll through his phone. To the left, Antonio looked intrigued, but lost. In fact, he mostly just seemed to be watching Lovino.

"So, how long have you even been there?" Lovino asked, finally directing the conversation to Antonio. "You must have called up pretty quickly."

Antonio smiled, sly with a waggle of his eyebrows. "What can I say? I miss you already."

"Gross," Lovino teased, wrinkling his nose. In reality, his insides were on fire, his gaze glued to Antonio's smile, that silly brow wiggle, his beautiful eyes."Take that sappy shit elsewhere."

This was accompanied by an 'aw' from Francis and, having finally gotten Gilbert's attention, exaggerated kissy faces. Coming from Gilbert, it wasn't as awkward as he would have thought, despite having history with the other boy. In fact, what worried Lovino more than anything was the implication behind it.

Did Antonio ever tell them about the kiss?

Lovino's brain was suddenly screaming at him in a mix of panic and swearing, eyes wide as he watched Gilbert, and Antonio's flushing face. It was times like this that Lovino liked to turn the tables, call Antonio out on his blushing and ask who looked like a tomato now, but he was stuck.

They were Antonio's best friends; surely he'd tell them everything.

Lovino then watched them for what felt like forever, as Antonio went to playfully, though bashfully, tackle Gilbert, and Francis falling in the middle of it. They all tussled about, Antonio going for a noogie against Gilbert's white hair, and Francis trying to scramble away, looking both offended and humorful at once. No one was looking at him, or paying attention to him in the least, but Lovino couldn't help but feel eyes boring into his skin.

"Sometimes quiet is violent, I find it hard to hide it…"

His music drawled in the background as he watched, divorced from the company the computer had granted him, feeling alone again suddenly. There was him and there was them. They all knew, but Lovino was the one left out. They were Antonio's friends, not his. He wasn't a part of this.

"My pride is no longer inside, It's on my sleeve, My skin will scream…"

The empty house started to crawl back in, under the door, the music not enough to solidify the walls and keep it out anymore.

It was then that Lovino felt relief, for once, to receive a text from his father. Looking down at his phone for a moment, the tusseling seemed to calm down. Eyes, actual eyes this time, were back on him, and Lovino couldn't figure out which screen was worse then, the computer's or his phone's.

"Lovi?" Antonio asked and Lovino looked up.

He lifted his phone, as if it alone could give sufficient explanation. He commanded his mouth to work. "It's my dad."

A look passed Antonio's face and it was familiar to Lovino. Disappointment at having to cut their call short, but also the concern that hearing about Lovino's father always somehow evoked. "Oh," was all he said.

"I should probably go," Lovino explained, and it was then that he saw varying shades of worry and disapproval on Francis and Gilbert's faces as well. He decided to focus on Antonio. He could only take so much pity.

"Yeah, yeah," Antonio agreed, looking reluctant all the same as he nodded his head. "Text later?"

"Sure," Lovino responded, shrugging and already going to move his mouse over the red 'end call' button. "Later."

After a chorus of 'later's in response, severely lacking their usual jeering tone, Lovino had ended the call and was greeted again by a silent house. If that text was anything to go by, he wasn't truly alone in his home, but it felt empty just the same. He wondered when his father had gotten home, looking at the dark sky outside his window, clouds drifting and blotting out the moon, shading the night in grey. The calls must have lasted a lot longer than Lovino had thought.

But he shook his head, refusing to think about it. Lovino stood from his bed, drawing himself together to meet with his father, as the text had requested. Whatever it was, Lovino doubted it would be good, so he went through a few rounds of exercises he had learned over the years.

Clear your mind. Forget your emotions. You are not Lovino in front of him.

Lovino had never quite figured out who he was around his father, but it hardly mattered. His thoughts and feelings bore no weight in that office. He had to have the strength of a brick wall—blank and dull and flat, but strong nonetheless. Perhaps he wasn't anyone when he stepped into that office. Maybe he was merely a brick wall.

By the time Lovino had walked down the hallway, the walls on either side too blank and lifeless—reminding him of what he had to be, to be strong—the walk so much longer on his way there as opposed to any of the other rooms, Lovino felt ready. He reached out and knocked on the door calmly.

"Come in," a voice from inside called. Lovino did as it said. He closed the door behind him and stood, ready, in front of the desk. His father wasn't ever one to dawdle. He was ever efficient, cut right to the chase. Time was a currency which he handled with utmost care. It wasn't long until he was looking up at his son, holding out an envelope, already open and a paper unfolded atop it. His grip wrinkled the paper and his frown was severely set. "Your report card," he announced and, despite Lovino's best efforts, his heart seized.

Gingerly, he took the proffered paper from his father, looking it over.

Lovino had fallen back on his old habits lately of studying too hard, burying himself in it, but he knew it wouldn't be enough. Not after a whole semester of not caring, of purposefully avoiding the work. He wasn't surprised, nor was he particularly disappointed. He had given up on trying to impress his father, as much as each grade twisted his heart. He'd only fallen back on those habits to distract himself, in all honesty.

But, now, the dread in Lovino's bones told a different story. One that wanted to reset time. One that would go back and do it all again, and do it right. He would get the grades so his father would nod and act like that was simply what was expected of him. He would never receive pride from the man, but he could maintain the status quo.

This whole semester—it had been about breaking that status quo though. Apart of Lovino had wanted to disappoint his father. Anger him.

His report card showed an impressive array of B's. A good grade, but not in his father's eyes. Nothing about this was acceptable, much less good.

The question was simple. "What is this?" his father asked. And Lovino, having forgotten he'd dropped all his thoughts and feelings back in his room, or was supposed to have, responded with sass.

"I thought you said it was my report card."

There was fire in his father's eyes as he took in Lovino's defensive form before him. He sat up in his chair, his hands resting on his desk in an imposing stance. Lovino had to resist the urge to lean away.

"I want an explanation," his father demanded. "Now."

Lovino, heart caught in his throat, had no words. There was no explanation, was there? He could have worked harder, anyone could see that, but he hadn't. Instead, he shrugged, trying to push away the thoughts that insisted he beg his father to believe in him, that he'd do better next time. But he would not be pathetic. He was not a being there to please his father.

"I told you this would happen," his father continued. "You slacked off and you got distracted and look what happened."

"B's aren't that bad, Dad," Lovino argued, now gripping the paper so hard himself that he was afraid it would tear. He was shaking slightly.

"You are better than B's, Lovino," his father stated, his voice rising.

Then, Lovino slammed the report card back on the desk, tears springing at the corners of his eyes. "What if I don't want to be better than B's? What if I don't want to have perfect grades and nothing else in life?"

"You will get nothing else in life without a good GPA, because it will get you into a good school and find you a good future," his father said back, dismissing him easily and standing up, using his own height to look down on Lovino now.

"What future?" Lovino asked, spitting out his words. "You mean like a job that never let's me come home, or holes me up in an office when I am, or makes me skip out on family dinners and holidays and stop caring about my own kids?"

Suddenly, there was silence in the room as those words sank in. Lovino was shocked, shocked at the words that had come out of his mouth, bottled up for years and curdled like old milk. His father seemed just as surprised, standing at his desk with a slack-jawed look. Then, he collected himself, speaking much quieter this time. The calm tension in his voice unnerved Lovino more than anything.

"Get out."

Lovino swallowed. He opened his mouth to protest, to apologize, but his father cut him off.

"I do not want to see you until we have both cooled off. Leave now," he said, then turned his back. His shoulders were stiff and his fists had curled. Lovino decided, for once, to just obey his father and he turned to leave.

The door slammed shut resolutely behind him and, as soon as he heard it, Lovino took off. He wasn't sure where he was going, but his feet obeyed before his mind was even made up. Downstairs, he pushed his tennis shoes onto his feet, then grabbed his coat off the rack before jerking the door open and rushing outside. He was keeping a determined pace up the sidewalk, cold night air nipping at his cheeks, before he had even thought a word.

He kept up his pace for a while, determined to leave it all behind, get as far away as possible, but, as he went on, he eventually started to slow, little by little. Eventually, he realized he was out in the cold and he had still to put on his winter coat so, without breaking pace, he pulled it on, zipping it up to his nose. Digging in the pockets, he found a hat and a scarf, which he promptly put on as well. Regrettably, his hands would have to go cold. He stuffed them in his pockets.

Before he knew it, he was at the only place he could have expected. He stood in front of their tree, leafless in the dead of winter, yet standing strong against the grey night. Lovino didn't approach, instead, simply looking, and pulled out his phone, which he had thankfully been carrying in his pants pocket since he'd first gotten the dreaded text from his father. Upon turning on the screen, he exited out of that conversation immediately.

He opened another, looking at it for a long time. Lovino knew what he'd say, what he'd want-

Antonio would want Lovino to call him. He'd tell him to go to his house; Antonio's mom would let him in. He'd say that it was too cold, that it was too late to be out, that he shouldn't have to hang out at the park because he wasn't welcome home. That Lovino was always welcome in the Carriedos'.

Lovino put away his phone. Oddly enough, the decision was easy, but the action difficult. It hurt his fingers, on some subliminal level, to slide the phone back into his pocket.

Watching his breath come out in a visible cloud before him, Lovino shivered. He knew he shouldn't be outside. He knew Antonio would be right. He knew he'd always be welcomed at his house, Ms. Carriedo would be more than happy to let him in and would cook them dinner and give him hot cocoa for comfort. But something stopped him. Lovino wouldn't go, couldn't stop pulling away, refusing, denying.

He buried his face into his scarf, trying to ward off the insistent cold that had made home in his bones. It was then that he saw the colors—red, green, white. It was his Italian flag scarf—the scarf that, once upon a time, Antonio had given him for Christmas.

A wave of warmth flooded Lovino then, and, still nose deep into the material, a small smile danced on his lips.

It would be a while until he finally decided to go back to his house, and, though he couldn't bring himself to call Antonio, he didn't feel without him out there. It was odd that, only a short while ago, with Antonio just on the other side of a screen, Lovino had felt so alone, but, now, actually alone, he couldn't.

He walked closer to the tree and leaned against its bark, two dejected figures in the winterscape, both with the memory of warmer days and sunny smiles which ensured they were not alone.

[EDIT: Forgot to mention! Lyrics from this chapter are from "Two Princes" by Spin Doctors and "Car Radio" by twenty one pilots. Both on the fic's playlist! Thanks]

CV: I've been struggling with this fic for a bit, but this chapter was actually a lot of fun to write! I'm really happy with it! I was going to split it into half Lovi's pov and half Toni's, but it got too long... But, bc of this, this is technically half of what I had planned to write for this chapter. My outline looks like it's going to be around 19 chapters now, and I actually like it a whole lot better like this. And, obviously, I'm not going to get it all done before the end of this month (despite having chapter 17 pretty much done too yay). This semester destroyed me and any free time or motivation I had lol.

So my new goal is to get this stuff done before the anniversary of this fic in April. Maybe I can work it out where the last chapter's published on that day. I don't have my hopes up for that deadline though with my track record heh...

Other news: On that tumblr I mentioned last time, I sometimes take one-shot requests, both for Hetalia and Voltron. Maybe I'll expand into other fandoms too one day. Come on by if you're interested! [url: codevassie]

I hope you enjoyed this chapter and I appreciate everyone still reading so much! This fic has gotten so long and the update schedule so nonexistent that it amazes me that anyone is still here haha. You guys have all my love! Until next time.