Warnings: grief, anxiety, slight abandonment issues, emotional fallout; mentions of panic attacks and parent/child fighting

"Papa!" Antonio exclaimed into the phone, probably a bit too loud. His volume did not phase the little boy, though. It was his birthday and his dad was on the phone and, later, he was having a party with all his friends and lots of cake!

"Antonio! Happy birthday, buddie! How are you doing?" his father asked, sounding just as happy to be on the phone with him. He should call more often if it made him this happy.

"Awesome," Antonio gushed, his tongue slipping over a gap in his gums. He gasped, remembering, then excitedly yelled, "I lost a tooth!"

"Really?" his father asked. "When did that happen?"

"I dunno," Antonio shrugged, not phased much by the passage of time at that age. "The Tooth Fairy left me money!"

"You must be a great boy, then. The Tooth Fairy only leaves you money if you've been good."

"No!" Antonio laughed. "That's Santa Claus!"

"It's also the Tooth Fairy. Trust me. I've talked to her," his father reassured him, and Antonio gasped.

"You have?"

"Sure have."

"Woooow," Antonio said, voice in awe. His papa chuckled.

"So what are you doing for your birthday, Toni?"

Antonio felt himself swell in excitement. He was doing a lot of fun things for his birthday, and he couldn't wait to tell his father all about it. When he opened his mouth, though, no sound came out, and he scrunched his eyebrows in confusion.

"Toni?" his father asked, patiently. Antonio tried again, but not even breath came out. It was like his voice had been strangled from his throat, without the pain of crushed windpipes. This scared him and he tried harder and harder to speak.

"Toni?"

Antonio's face was streaming with tears for some reason, and he wasn't sure why. Now, he wasn't scared of losing his voice, of the world suddenly without the sensation of speaking, but of being unable to get his words out to his father. He was afraid, if he didn't speak soon, his father would hang up and he would never hear from him again. Which was wrong. His papa didn't call a lot, sure, but he did eventually. Why would Antonio be so scared of never hearing from him again?

"Toni? Is the connection breaking up?" his father asked, sounding confused. Antonio screamed mutely, knuckles growing white on the plastic landline. He was shaking.

Please please please! Voice, work! Let me talk to him!

There was a sigh at the other end of the line. "Toni, if you can still hear me, I think the connection is broken. I have to go now, but I'll call again later, okay?"

No! No no no-

"Bye Toni," his dad said. "Happy Birthday."

Papa!

-/-

Antonio jolted awake on February 12th with the memory of his father's voice fading in his ears.

There was a knock on his door. Still a bit shaken, Antonio croaked, "Come in."

Lovino poked his head in, scrutinizing the room and Antonio's bedhead with an amused smirk. He was always the first there on Antonio's birthday.

He walked into the room and dumped a package onto Antonio's lap. "Happy Birthday," he said, then walked over to the window, like he was simply dropping off homework or something. But Antonio could see how his eyes stayed on him, watching carefully as he opened the present.

It was a CD. Antonio gaped at it, finding it the least expected thing ever, before looking up to Lovino. Lovino shrugged, shifting his eyes to the window. "You use that CD player all the time, but barely have any CDs. If you don't like the artist or something we can trade it out."

"No no," Antonio shook his head. Lovino looked back over and Antonio smiled. "I love it."

Lovino looked him over for a second before nodding. Looking pleased, he smiled himself. "Okay."

"Thank you, Lovino," Antonio smiled, and, something about the morning, despite just waking from a nightmare, was peaceful. Lovino, framed by the window, was bathed in the bright, cold light of winter. Antonio, still rumpled and relaxed from sleep, let the adrenaline from his dream fade easily. It felt like they were in a bubble- not one that caged, but protected.

Suddenly, he wanted to tell Lovino everything. How beautiful he was. How Antonio thought of that kiss everyday, and wanted plenty of kisses more. He wanted to tell Lovino how much he liked him- liked him so much. That he had liked him for a long time now and wanted to tuck his hair behind his ear and hold his hand and give him intimate and soft and passionate kisses.

But, suddenly, the bubble popped and Lovino was speaking up again.

His friend shrugged, the light around him rippling. "No problem," Lovino said, then turned away from whatever he had been watching outside. "Get dressed. I'm going to go help your mom with breakfast."

When Lovino left the room, shutting the door behind him, Antonio took a moment to lay back on his pillows once more, breathing out a gust. He blinked at the stark ceiling, banishing thoughts of revealing his heart to Lovino. It wasn't the right time. It was too soon. They were only just talking again. Antonio didn't want to ruin what they had.

He got out of bed and sent the thought elsewhere.

-/-

He and Lovino played soccer in the park for his birthday. That was all he had wanted for the day. Lovino had questioned it; of course he had. Antonio always spent the day with a handful of friends at least. He'd keep Lovino by his side, encourage him into conversation with Alfred and Matthew, or Matthias and his boyfriend.

It had been a while since Antonio had talked to anyone but Lovino at school though, and he didn't particularly want to start now. Maybe next week. It was time to anyway. But not today.

They had bundled up, ready for the odd mixture of temperatures that exercising in the cold would bring. Lovino wore his Italian flag scarf and some old tennis shoes. Antonio wore his cleats and team jacket, but was already considering taking even that off as he puffed cold breaths into the air, lungs constricting icily. If he was doing bad in the weather, though, Lovino was doing worse. Antonio was at least a bit more used to it, having played soccer for as long as he could remember. Lovino's face was red and his fingers looked frigid.

Antonio eventually decided a break was in order.

They opted against sitting on the bench, deeming the brittle grass warmer than the cold metal, and broke open the lunch they had packed in the kitchen that morning. PB&Js, granola bars, water. Simple, but that was how they usually did things.

The sky was grey, with great storm clouds in the distance. Maybe they would get snow. Mid-February in New York, though, and Antonio was already tired of snow. He didn't mind the cold usually, but he missed the summer.

They talked and ate and then waited for their food to settle before playing more. They spent the rest of the day like that, panting in the cold air and tackling each other when someone got a goal. Lovino teased him when he got distracted by something. Though, with others more reluctant to venture out into the cold, human and animal alike, there wasn't much to get distracted by than the bare branches of the trees and Lovino's hair in his face. In return, Antonio teased his friend about how quickly he got tired out.

By the time they arrived home, Lovino was complaining about sore muscles and Antonio had slung his arm around him in a friendly gesture- and to keep warm, and to keep close.

"I told you you should have stretched better beforehand," Antonio said, laughing. Lovino pouted.

"You're only right this time because it's your birthday," he grumbled, and Antonio only laughed more. That was when Antonio's mom called them into the kitchen with warm tea and cocoa. She had requested the evening off for his birthday, and Antonio's heart couldn't have been more full.

"You boys go have fun and I'll let you know when dinner is ready," she said once they were all done with their drinks, and telling her about what they had done all day. Antonio bit at his lip, knowing she would insist on doing dinner tonight by herself, and nodded. He and Lovino retreated upstairs and played Mario Kart for a while.

Antonio's phone vibrated and, when he checked, he saw it was a text from Feli wishing him happy birthday. He smiled and sent back a thank you before turning to Lovino.

"That was Feli," he explained. Lovino nodded, flipping the controller in his hands.

"He say happy birthday?" he asked.

"Yep," Antonio nodded, turning back to the game. He looked through a few circuits before choosing one and the countdown began to start. "It's weird not seeing him today."

"Mmhm," Lovino hummed. Antonio got hit by a shell as he threw his friend a look.

"How is he?" Antonio asked carefully. It wasn't as though the conversation was out of bounds, but Lovino didn't seem to like talking about it all that much. Antonio was pretty sure something had happened in the past week too, because, whenever he'd brought it up recently, Lovino would brush it off quickly. It worried Antonio, but, at the same time, he knew Lovino would tell him when he was ready. There was no need to push.

"Doing fine," Lovino shrugged, leaning with his controller, like he always did. Antonio could only see it from the corner of his eye, since he was trying his best to watch his character on the screen.

That night, after dinner and cake and a small battle to see who could put the most icing on the other's face, they were tucked away in bed, Lovino having decided to stay the night. Antonio's new CD was murmuring from across the room. There was barely any light shining through the window from the grey sky. Most of it was probably residual from the street lamps on the other side of the house.

That was when Lovino finally told him what had been on his mind. Just a brief sentence, and he spoke it quietly, eyes barely visible where they peered at him in the dark.

"They invited me to live in Oregon," he said quietly, voice just another shade of the night. It almost felt like a dream. Antonio nodded. "I don't know if I should go," Lovino continued. Antonio nodded again.

Nothing stuck in that dreamlike state of night, Antonio thought. This wasn't real.

But, real or not, it forced Antonio to confront a quiet voice in his head, one that was mutely terrified as he watched the glowing red numbers on his CD player, dead in the night, Lovino long since lulled to sleep beside him.

Is Lovino going to leave me too?

-/-

They never talk about it after that. A part of Antonio wanted to hope that it had been a dream after all, but he knew that wasn't true. They were just avoiding the truth.

Lovino was avoiding a lot, apparently. Midterms came around and it only made his friend antsier. The stress was practically rolling off him in waves. Between studying for his own tests, distracting Lovino, and worrying about Oregon and the night they never spoke about, Antonio felt himself stretched thin and growing haggard. At night, when Lovino came over, Antonio found himself lying up far past when Lovino finally went to sleep. At school, Lovino flits between staring blankly at his textbook, terror in his eyes, and zoning out, pulling at his hair in agitation.

There was always something going on in Lovino's head that Antonio couldn't understand. It had always been that way. Lovino was a being of thoughts too big for his mind, and Antonio had always found that fascinating. It was different now.

Now, Lovino had dark circles under his eyes. Now, he spent half a class period in the bathroom from sporadic panic attacks. Now, Lovino's head didn't seem like an interesting mystery to Antonio, but some sort of dark, fearful creature, curling up on itself in defense, striking out in fear, tearing down the world around it in frustration.

After a particularly rough day, Antonio finds Lovino curled up in one of the stalls of the bathroom, the final bell having rung twenty minutes ago. It had taken Antonio a while to find which bathroom Lovino had disappeared into, since it had not been the one closest to their classroom. It was one less used, towards the back of the school. It was probably more private.

They only had two days of midterms left, and, as much as Antonio knew he should be going home to study, there was nothing more important right now than this. After staring at Lovino's visible shoes for a minute or two, Antonio finally knocked on the bathroom stall.

"Lovino?" he asked carefully. "Are you in there?" Of course he was in there. But Antonio wanted to give Lovino the chance to answer.

Lovino didn't. Antonio sighed.

"Please, Lovi," he breathed, voice barely above a whisper. There was shuffling from behind the door and Antonio's heart rose.

The door unlocked and opened. Lovino stood before him, looking worse for wear, and Antonio wanted to gather his friend into his arms, to protect him from what was in that head of his, but he didn't. He had to give Lovino space.

"Hey," Lovino said, avoiding his gaze. His shoulders were down and his eyes were bloodshot, but his breathing was regular. Antonio hoped he hadn't had an attack. Lovino would say that he'd only disappeared to take a breather. Last time, though, Antonio had come to check on him, and Lovino had been in the middle of one. Antonio wasn't sure what to believe anymore.

"Hey," Antonio answered back. He lifted a hand, slowly, so Lovino could pull back if he wanted. He did. Antonio dropped the hand. "Do you want to come to my house this afternoon?" he asked softly, swallowing a knot that was building in his throat. "We can take a nap."

Lovino shook his head. "No, thanks," he replied, and Antonio's hope popped like a overblown balloon. Lovino slipped passed him, walking to the sink and splashing water on his face. After he was done, he leaned on the sink. He looked so tired.

Sounding defeated, Lovino said, "I just want to be alone."

And that- that shot through Antonio's heart like an arrow. Not from Cupid's stupid bow - no, it had been quite a long time ago that arrow had made its mark. This one was sharpened for war, pronged so it couldn't be taken out without causing more pain. Not Cupid- maybe Apollo, or Artemis. A stag caught under the moonlight, fleeing the huntress. Achilles struck down by the sun god's blessed arrow.

Antonio stood, stricken and dumb and hurt. He blinked back stupid tears. They didn't belong here.

Lovino didn't want him there.

Lovino left the bathroom, alone, as he had wanted. That night, Antonio heard yelling from next door. He texted Lovino to ask if he was okay, but he didn't get anything in reply.

-/-

Lovino rarely spoke to Antonio after that day. He seemed to be avoiding him.

Antonio couldn't help feeling he was saying goodbye already. Lovino must have made up his mind. He would be going to Oregon. He would leave Antonio.

It was like watching a psychological horror unraveling before his eyes. Midterms ended and Lovino still didn't seem to get any better. He had stopped coming over to Antonio's. They no longer walked to and from school together. They didn't talk in the hallways. Neither of them talked to anyone. Antonio still hadn't reconnected with any of his other friends after pushing them all away, and it seemed hopeless to start now.

Sometimes, there was shouting from next door. It worried his mom, but he convinced her not to call the police. Lovino's dad had never hit him, and the shouting never lasted long. They always sounded like brief arguments. It still worried Antonio, but involving the police only worried him more. Lovino would probably be angry, maybe even feel betrayed. He loved his dad, even though they didn't get along very well. Lovino wouldn't want him to get into any sort of trouble.

Maybe it was worth it, just to make sure his friend was safe, but Antonio was a coward and these things were more complicated than they seemed.

Lovino would probably leave soon anyway.

And nothing scared Antonio more. Lovino, in some ways, was the only friend he had. He was his best friend. When they hadn't been talking, it had been some of the worst months of his life. It had been his own decision, yeah. He had been grieving, and trying to cope with the loss of his dad, but he would think about Lovino often in those months, wondering how he had let things get the way they were.

But Lovino had been fine himself, hadn't he? He could survive without Antonio. And he loved his brother. It must have been an easy decision.

Still, if there was some way that Antonio could keep him there, he would.

One loss was enough. He couldn't stand losing Lovino too.

Lovino and Feliciano's birthday was coming up when, once again, there were shouts from next door. The argument lasted longer and a part of Antonio was relieved that his mother wasn't home to hear it. He could tell that she hated keeping silent on the matter; he hated it too, but the risk of intervening was a great one and she was anxious to handle it wrongly. She constantly asked after Lovino, to which Antonio had nothing to say. She would suggest inviting Lovino over, to which Antonio would respond that he'd tried.

Feeling anxious himself, Antonio kept an eye out the living room window, watching the Vargas house like it would give him any clue what he should do. The night was unnaturally still, quiet apart from the shouts, dark apart from the yellow lights blaring from select windows of Lovino's house. Despite it being early March, snowflakes were starting to fall, sticking to the ground like one last lifeline before they could melt. They didn't melt. It was cold enough to stay. At least, until morning.

The shouting ceased and Antonio held his breath. He watched Lovino's window, hoping the light would turn on and show that his friend had retreated to his own room. Antonio couldn't feel safe moving from the window without it.

Instead, the front door opened and Lovino stalked out of the house, leaving without so much as a jacket or a scarf. Even from there, Antonio could tell his friend was too furious to care about the cold, and, as he reached the sidewalk in front of his house, Antonio prayed that he would turn right, come seek shelter at his own place.

Lovino turned left and walked until he was out of sight. Antonio's heart reached his throat.

I should follow-

Antonio thought, walking from the window to his own front door immediately. He was reaching for his jacket, on the hook by the door, when he stopped.

But, would Lovino want to be alone?

He's been avoiding me.

He doesn't want to see me.

Antonio stood there for a moment, teetering on the decision, hand hovering over his jacket and eyes watching the door.

He would have gone to our tree, Antonio realized with a strong sense of melancholy. If he's at our tree…. then he would be waiting for me.

"I won't let you leave yet, Lovino."

-/-

The snow was picking up, but Antonio trudged harder to the park, pulling his hood tighter around him. He had brought another jacket for Lovino, clutched in his other hand, as his footfalls grew increasingly mute against the roar of the wind. The weather was taking a turn for the worse.

He hoped and prayed that Lovino was at the park because, if he wasn't, Antonio couldn't imagine where else his friend would have gone. If he wasn't at the park, Antonio worried he might never find him.

"If he's not here," Antonio mumbled to himself, stepping through the gates and turning left. Their tree was toward the back. "I can't give up. I can't just leave him out in the cold, and alone, and angry and sad…" he trailed off, the thought making him only more sad himself. He bit his lip and trudged on, facing the sidewalk as snow started to sting his face.

The snow pelted the scene like it was desperate to reach the ground, and it wasn't until Antonio was close that he could actually see the tree, for the first time in months, much less someone who might have been huddling under it. Nevertheless, he kept his eyes there, searching.

He was only about ten feet away when he was finally able to see it, a figure curled under the tree, face hidden in their legs. Antonio increased his pace. Lovino did not look up, the roar of the wind and snow muffling any sounds of his approach. It wasn't until Antonio shouted over the noise, "Lovino!" that his friend finally looked up.

Confused and face red and splotchy, from tears and weather alike, Lovino looked up at Antonio in disbelief. Once Antonio stood over him, the first thing he did was wrap the spare coat around him.

"What are you doing?" he shouted. "It's freezing out here!"

"How did you know I was here?" Lovino asked, yelling himself and voice scratchy. Antonio smiled and shook his head, as if the question was absurd. He was just relieved to see his friend.

"I saw you leave your house!" he said. "This is definitely going to turn into a snowstorm! We should get out of here!"

But, at that, Lovino's face morphed and he leaned away. He shook his head. "No! Go home, Antonio!"

"What?" Antonio asked, staring at his friend like he had lost it. Maybe Lovino hadn't heard him… "Come with me! We can warm up at my house!"

"No!" Lovino exclaimed again, insistent. He huddled in on himself, his whole body shaking. "I'm staying!"

Antonio, confused and tired of yelling, knelt down by his friend, leaning in. Lovino didn't look up. "What do you mean?" he asked. He reached out, but Lovino jerked away. Antonio didn't try again. "You're going to freeze to death out here."

"Then fucking let me," Lovino said it like it was a dare. "Just leave me alone!"

For a moment, the words stung. It was exactly as Antonio had feared. Lovino didn't want him around. Antonio was just sticking his nose in where it didn't belong, and Lovino was going to hate him for it.

But he shook his head, pushing away those thoughts. He refused. Antonio refused to believe Lovino didn't want anything to do with him anymore. They'd been best friends for years. They'd told each other their deepest secrets. They helped each other with anxieties and sleepless nights and loss and grief and sadness and anger. If Lovino was pushing him away, it wasn't because of Antonio, just like when Antonio had been pushing Lovino away after the loss of his dad. Lovino was pushing him away because of himself. Because of something going on in that head of his.

Antonio wouldn't give up on this. He wouldn't let Lovino go. He wouldn't let Lovino leave him yet.

"No," Antonio said, simple and straightforward. Lovino looked up, surprised for a second before his face scrunched up again.

"God, you don't give up!" he exclaimed, frustrated. "Don't you see, Antonio? Can't you see what a lost cause I am?"

"You're my best friend, Lovino. I will never give up on you."

"Stop doing this to yourself, idiot!" Lovino shouted, grabbing his hair in fists and fixing his eyes closed, tears leaking out. "Go and find a better best friend."

"I wouldn't be able to. I could travel the world and never find someone as great as you-"

"Shut up!" Lovino interrupted, opening his eyes. There was rage and bitter desperation in them. "Do you even hear yourself? Do you hear how ridiculous you sound?"

Antonio's heart panged, but he tried not to let it get to him. "Lovi-"

"No! You can't just fix this with words you think I want to hear! You can't- you can't-" Lovino tried, but his voice was coming in pants now. He furiously tried to wipe at his tears, but only more came.

"How can I fix it then, Lovino?" Antonio asked, desperate. He didn't have all the answers. He didn't know what to do. "I want to help!"

"I told you! You can't." Lovino sighed, suddenly the fight seemed to rush out of him. He slumped, covering his face. "You can't."

"I can," Antonio insisted. Lovino shook his head.

"I don't know what to do anymore," Lovino said, and Antonio froze, not because of the temperature. It was the first real thing Lovino had said since he'd gotten there. "I can't do anything. I can't help anybody. I can't help myself."

"I suck at school, even though I know I could do well if I tried," Lovino continued, voice strangled and wracked with tears. "I can't try anymore though. Not just because of my dad either. Like, everytime I try I just get more and more panicked because I'm behind and it feels hopeless to catch up and I ask myself why I'm even doing it at all? What is the point?"

"And I fight with him all the time. And I'm so angry and frustrated, but it's not even because I'm angry at him anymore. I just- I feel- It's all me. Everything he says is true. I don't try. And the future is so scary because a part of me thinks I'm ruining it and another part just doesn't think it exists. Like, what am I preparing for? I wanted to figure that out, but it's still so useless-"

Lovino's fingers curl into his hair again, tugging and pulling, and Antonio wanted to reach out and hold them, stop them from hurting himself, but he knew Lovino wouldn't want touch right now, so he sat, waiting, listening, patiently.

"I couldn't even help my own brother!" Lovino carried on. "Or you, who's supposed to be my best friend. How can I call you that when I wasn't even there for you when your dad died? How can you still want to be around me after everything?"

Lovino deflated, hanging his head. "I couldn't help either of you," he said. His hands stopped fidgeting, but stayed with fistfuls of hair. "You had to go through all of that alone. I watched. I knew you weren't okay, but I couldn't do anything. I didn't do anything."

"And now Feliciano's in Oregon to get better. He's gone because I couldn't do anything."

Lovino curled in further on himself. They both went still. It was silent around. For a moment, Antonio couldn't even hear the wind, which was no doubt still roaring in his ears. Then, Antonio noticed how the snow had picked up, how it pelted his face and exposed hands, and the combination of night and snow made it hard to see anything but each other. When he heard again, it was loud. Louder than it had been. Antonio should have been afraid of getting trapped in the storm, but he wasn't. Finally, he understood.

"I can't do anything either," he said to his friend, and Lovino stilled. Antonio swallowed, looking out on the building storm. It was all grey and white and black and blue, and his eyes settled on the chaotic dancing of snowflakes around a street lamp. "I can't help you."

Lovino was silent, but Antonio could tell he had frozen in place at the words. They were not words anyone wanted to hear, even someone who had been trying to convince you the same only moments before.

"Sometimes there are things that we can't help each other with. Feliciano needed a lot more than he could get here. I needed solitude, space to work through my thoughts. You…" Antonio turned to his friend. Lovino was looking at him with wide eyes. "New York isn't good for you, is it?"

"What-" Lovino asked reproachfully, voice even more hoarse now that he had been yelling for so long. "What do you mean?"

Antonio took a risk. He leaned forward, holding out his arms. Lovino looked at them, looked up at Antonio, quick thoughts shining in his eyes, then nodded. Antonio wrapped his friend into a hug. Speaking into Lovino's hair, he said, "Everything here causes you stress, doesn't it? Your house. Your dad. That school. It's like it's all trapping you."

"Not you," Lovino breathed, and he sunk into Antonio's arms, holding on to his sleeve like a lifeline.

"I cause you guilt."

But Lovino shook his head, leaning back to look into Antonio's eyes, speaking insistently. "Not you. Just the thought of what I did. When I'm with you- You help me forget it all sometimes."

And Antonio smiled. "I'm glad," he said before growing serious again. "But it's not enough."

"It's not your fault that you couldn't help me or Feli. None of that is your fault. I know telling you this may amount to nothing, but you had to hear it from me at least once. Feliciano needed to go to Oregon. And I needed that space. A part of me wishes I hadn't pushed you away, and that's my fault, but not yours. It's not your fault, Lovino."

"All of this, you've been keeping inside yourself, and there's so much of it. I would do anything- anything to help you, Lovi. I would make you chase squirrels with me around the park everyday, or share my bed with you and 'forget' to wake you for hours on end. I would help you study and force you to close the damn book when it got too late, or you became too frustrated to work. I would listen to you and Francis bicker about literature forever and meet you every single day for the rest of our lives under this tree."

Antonio held Lovino's eyes carefully. Lovino watched as if transfixed, mouth slightly open in awe, eyes shaking subtly. Antonio found his hand, squeezed, then looked down.

"But I don't know if I can help," he admitted. "No matter what, you're going to have to live with your dad if you stay in New York. You can stay as long as you want at our house, but you'll have to return sooner or later to your dad, and everything trapping your mind in the state it's in."

Antonio took a breath, readying himself for his next words, and the inevitable sting they would bring. He thought about not saying them, for just a moment, but knew he could never. This had to be said.

"Maybe…" he said, voice soft. "Oregon would be for the best."

Lovino gasped and sat back, looking up at Antonio.

But Antonio was sure now. Lovino needed this. He needed to live in a healthier environment- a healing environment. Everything here, it was hurting him, and Antonio couldn't help his friend alone - not when everything around Lovino overwhelmed him, not when everything was spiraling so out of control.

Antonio couldn't be selfish by keeping Lovino here.

And he realized that going to Oregon… wasn't Lovino leaving him at all. It was leaving his dad, leaving his toxic New York home. It was going somewhere where he could heal, where he could find what he needed- which was impossible here.

It didn't have to mean Lovino would leave Antonio's life forever. There was always Skype, and his California visits where he cold sneak off to Oregon for a few days. Lovino wouldn't leave him where Antonio could not follow. He wouldn't be snatched away, never to return, like his father.

Lovino would have his brother, and his caring grandfather, and maybe, maybe, he could see his mom more, reconnect with her. He would live in a simple town, and he could see that therapist Feliciano went to. He could get better there, like he couldn't in New York.

"I don't want to leave you," Lovino said, voice almost snatched away entirely by the wind. Antonio leaned closer, to hear, and to slant his forehead against his friend's, closing his eyes.

He sighed. "Lovino…" Antonio said, but couldn't seem to translate his thoughts into any more words. Sighing again, Antonio's eyes fluttered open, averted down while he searched for Lovino's hand. When he took it in his, he squeezed. "Let's go home."

"But…" Lovino said, like he wanted to argue, but didn't know how. Antonio looked up, into hazel.

"You don't have to decide now. And we can talk all that you want about it later," Antonio assured him with a small nod. "But, right now, I think we need to go inside or we'll be sick for days."

Abruptly, Antonio stood, Lovino's hand slipping from his. He couldn't have that, however, and turned back, offering his hand once more. Lovino, still kneeling under the tree, clothes soaking through with slush, olive cheeks turning pale, nose turning red from the cold, looked at his hand with a furrowed brow. He looked back up and almost seemed amused.

The fire that lit in Antonio's heart warmed the freeze that had been settling over his body. He smirked, wiggling his fingers and eyebrows. Sniffing and letting out a small chuckle, Lovino placed his hand within Antonio's, a mirror of a sunny day long ago under this very tree. Antonio hauled his friend to his feet and they stood nose to nose.

Antonio's breath came out in chilly puffs. Lovino's eyelashes looked to be freezing over. Together, they paused in the swirl of the world around them.

Last time, Antonio had tugged Lovino into a dance, away from stupid Physics to laugh and trip over one another's shoes.

That would probably be irresponsible now, wouldn't it? They had been out there in a literal snow storm for too long already. Alone. In the dark. If they tried to dance now, they wouldn't even feel their toes.

For later, then, Antonio decided, and he stepped back, and back, and back, leading Lovino away from the tree, looking raw and pale and exhausted. He had to tear his eyes away to make sure he was walking in the right direction, turning to walk forward.

Slowly, they walked back to Antonio's place. Antonio resolved that, whatever Lovino decided in the end, wherever he decided to go, there would always be a home for him there.

-/-

That night, as they fell asleep in Antonio's bed, Lovino curled into his side. It was warm, and it was comfortable, and Antonio was happy knowing Lovino was safe beside him.

Lovino drifted off quickly, exhausted from the night's events, from the cold and crying and anxiety and the fighting and the worrying. Antonio, as tired as he had been, and as heavy as his bones were, could not close his eyes. He stared at the ceiling for a long time, savoring the warmth of Lovino laying on his chest.

He craned his head to look outside, watching the grey battering the window. The storm still raged, but they were inside now, protected and safe. His mom had arrived home about an hour ago, so Antonio didn't have anything else to worry about.

Looking down, it was hard to see Lovino in the dark, but, as his eyes adjusted, he was just able to make out vague features. Softly, he pushed the mess of curly hair away from Lovino's eyelids, finger pads delicately brushing over his forehead. Antonio sighed in relief, in contentment, then looked back up to the ceiling.

It was quiet. Antonio would have put on a CD if he wasn't worried about rousing his friend. Instead, he let his mind wander. There was a certain peace to staying up that night, no school to worry about in the morning, no boredom to combat, or frustration or tossing or turning. He thought a little about this, a little about that. A math test. Feliciano's random cheery text the other day. The milkshakes he and Lovino had gotten in celebration for the end of last school year. His old soccer ball in the corner. His dad. Oregon. Lovino…

His thoughts came so quietly and calmly, each one passing at a comfortable pace, each one a thought that seemed to belong so resolutely in the world- the thought which should have been surprising, but was not. It should have been an epiphany, it should have been earth-shattering, but it was none of those things. Antonio had never known, but it seemed to have belonged in him all along. It was so normal to think so outrageously.

I love Lovino, don't I?

It was true. In one way or another, he had loved Lovino for as long as he had known him. In many ways, this was not new, or outrageous.

But it was not in that way which he loved him anymore. It was that, and other. It was that, and something added, something that made his breath squeeze out of his chest when Lovino was around, something that made his heart pound with the sound of Lovino's laugh, that longed to look at his lips and his eyes and his hands and him all day long, that wanted to be close, to stay close, to never let go.

That was frightened as hell to think that Lovino would leave, but accepted it readily went it meant Lovino would be safe, and find peace.

I can't tell him, he realized with the same quiet calm. He breathed out, looked at Lovino again. Lovino breathed evenly; his nose twitched in his sleep. A strand of hair started to fall, slowly, steadily, across his forehead again, moving with each breath. There's too much on his plate right now. And, if he moves to Oregon…

Something about the realization, though, brought the words so close to his lips, so desperate to be said. It was like that first trip to Oregon all over again. Quieter, less running and sunny summer. Antonio could feel it so close to the surface, eager to get out. The words wanted to be said.

But I can't. Not now, at least.

It made him a bit nauseous to bury the words, deep down. They were like a drowning man, struggling to resurface. The words tickled his lips as they gasped for air, but Antonio frowned, pushing them again. Suffocating… like holding down the shutdown button on a computer.

Antonio laughed at that, a little too loud. He felt Lovino stir in his arms and froze.

Lovino settled. Antonio breathed again.

Then, he was faced with the silence. The words beckoned him from the back of his eyelids. He grew more tired and the words whispered sweetly in his ears.

He wanted to tell Lovino. He wanted to tell him so bad.

But he wouldn't. He wouldn't he wouldn't he wouldn't.

Antonio was a better friend than that. If he were to one day tell Lovino, it would be when Lovino was doing better, when he hadn't just had a breakdown in the park in the middle of a snow storm.

When he hadn't been having a huge argument with his dad. When he hadn't been having panic attacks on and off over the past week. When he wasn't in a place that he might move across country.

Because it could influence his decision. Or make things complicated. And it would certainly be unwelcome at a time like this.

Antonio wanted to keep it to himself. He wanted to give Lovino this time and space. He would hate himself if he did it now.

But now- Now, Lovino was asleep.

Now, Lovino wouldn't even hear.

With somber eyes, Antonio once again looked down at his friend, deep in sleep on his shoulder. His heart swelled. His gut clenched. He was scared, and he was so in love.

"Hey," he whispered on unhearing ears, "I just wanted to say…"

He paused for only a second, then gave in.

"Lovino Vargas. I'm in love with you."

-/-

"Hey, my boy," a familiar voice came down the line. It was friendly, but spoke slowly, melancholic.

Antonio, holding the same plastic receiver to his ear, wasn't a young boy this time. He was himself, in his sixteen year old body and sixteen year old mind. He knew that his father was dead. Smiling sadly, he replied, "Hi, Papa."

"How are things going? Have you taken your driving test yet?" his dad asked, casually, like he might in any other call, but his voice was still quiet and tinged with regret. Antonio swallowed, nodding, though his father wouldn't be able to see.

"Things are okay, I guess," he said, voice cracking. "I haven't taken the test yet, but mom made an appointment."

"Good," came the reply. "That's good. How are things with Lovino?"

Antonio's heart leapt into his throat, but he smiled. It was nice to talk to his father again. He hadn't changed. "Good. He's going through some stuff, but we're good."

"Did you ever figure it all out?" his dad asked, voice taking on a little teasing edge. If this weren't a dream, Antonio knew he would have felt his cheeks burn.

"Yeah," Antonio answered anyway. "I like him. I really like him."

"That's awesome, Antonio," his dad replied, and he sounded so happy and so proud. Antonio felt his eyes sting, but he refused to cry. He couldn't cry now.

"I think I actually even love him, Papa," he confessed, blurting it out with a sob. He stuck a fist in his mouth to hold it back, blinking rapidly to shake it off.

"Oh, Toni," his dad sounded sympathetic. "What are you going to do about it then?"

"Nothing," he said. "I can't do anything, Dad, because this would be the worst time ever to tell Lovino. I want to say it more than anything, I want to tell him, but that would be the worst thing to do right now."

"Antonio. You are such a good friend. You are such a good person. I am so proud of you," his father's voice said across the line and Antonio wanted to sob even more. He was already crying so hard though.

"Papa, I miss you," he blubbered, afraid that he would never get the chance again. "I miss you so much. Why did this have to happen? Why can't you still be here? Why can't you still be with me?"

"I'm so sorry I can't be, Antonio. I want to be; please believe me. I wish I could be there for you, for your mother, but this is just the way things work. You have to move on."

"No!" Antonio practically yelled, panicked. He held the phone so close to his ear he was sure it would leave an imprint, leave a scar. "You can't leave me again, Papa! I won't let you! I can't forget you. Please-"

"I'm not asking you to forget, Toni." His dad sounded so calm, so collected. Antonio wondered how he did that, when it felt like he was falling apart. "You shouldn't forget. I'm asking you to not let this drag you down anymore. I want you to live life. I want you to learn how very important living is from this. Because it's so quick. You don't realize it, but life is so quick, even when you do live for a hundred years, and it can end at any time."

"So, I want you to be who you want to be, be who you know you are. Learn from mistakes, but don't change for other people. Live like you're preparing for a great life, and know that life is pretty great already. Everything is so important, so pay attention. Don't let it slip through your fingers. Don't let the world pass you by. Try to understand everyone, and do good by it."

Suddenly, his father stopped, voice catching. Antonio's crying had gone down, tears still shining in his eyes, but he listened intently. A little wobbly, he asked, "Yes, Papa?"

Then, his father sighed, long and full of regret. "There is so much I should have said. So much I didn't get to tell you, teach you. So many life lessons that you're going to have to learn all on your own."

"Antonio, I wasn't a good father. I wasn't there for so long. We barely saw each other, and, yeah, there was distance, but I should have put in more of an effort to see you despite it. I never realized how little time we'd ultimately have together," he paused, and Antonio wanted to protest, but he was talking again in no time. "I never stayed away because I wanted to, okay Toni? I did it because I didn't think, because I was thoughtless and selfish, but never because I wanted to stay away from you. I love you. More than anything. You are my son, you are my boy, and I will always be proud of that."

Antonio was teetering close to tears again, but he sniffled, opening his mouth again. There was something he had to say, and he couldn't let crying get in the way again.

"You were a good father, Dad," he sniffled. "I could have tried harder too."

"It wasn't your job to try harder, Antonio."

But Antonio just shook his head. "You were the best father."

The past tense rung between them, somehow more blatant now than ever. For some reason, it didn't scare Antonio so much anymore. He brought a hand up to cradle the bottom of the phone, staring in front of him.

"This call won't last much longer," Antonio said, resigned. "Will it?"

"Calls don't last forever, Antonio," his dad said, voice lighter and heavier somehow at the same time. Antonio nodded.

Awake, Antonio would never dare to say what he was about to, but something about the dream just made him want to be honest, something about being able to talk to his father again.

"When I was little, I used to wish on my birthday candles that we could talk on the phone all day. I didn't even know what we would talk about. I was still a kid; what could there possibly be to talk about to an adult for so long? But it was all I wanted."

"I'm sorry I wasn't there. It will always be my biggest regret."

The silence hung between them after that. Antonio let it wash over him. It was like acceptance incarnate. He knew he had to embrace it, or be left behind. Antonio did not want to be left behind. Not again.

He had to move forward.

"I love you, Papa," Antonio said. He heard a pleasant huff over the receiver.

Sounding a bit choked up, his dad replied, "I love you too, son."

"I guess I won't be calling you back later," he joked and his father laughed.

"Not for a long time, I hope."

"Alright," Antonio nodded. He was ready now.

"Goodbye, Antonio," his dad said.

"Goodbye, Dad."

CV: It's Sad Boy Hours™ up in here, isn't it?

Oh wowie, what a chapter. You wouldn't believe how proud of it I was after I wrote it. While still far from perfect, even after editing I'm really dang proud of it. This chapter had some really crucial scenes that I was super nervous to write for, and whether I did them justice is, of course, for you to decide, but I'm still really happy with the outcome. There was a scene in here that was one of the first scenes I ever wrote for this fic, and, let me tell you, it was surreal pulling out my old notebook and rewriting based off of something two years old.

This fic is coming up towards the end and... wow. That's wild to me. While we near the finish line, though, once again, that line grows further bc I'm bumping this up to 20 chapters. Hopefully, that will be the last change to chapter count.

Thank you so much anyone who is still reading! While this fic has been quite a disaster, and I'm only really still writing for myself, if you're out there still enjoying it, or even just picked it up, that is so marvelous to me.

Lastly, I'll be opening requests again on my blog shortly after posting this, so, stop on by if you're interested! Thank you all once again and I hope you have an excellent day! Until next time!