Chapter Four.

Who Kissed Who?

…

I worked Friday through Monday. I saw Francis on friday, forgot about him until I came to work saturday, learned to ignore him on sunday, and now it was monday.

The winter festival was this friday and I had successfully found someone to cover my shift for me. Otherwise I'd never hear the end of it from Feliciano. I missed it last year and I'm still paying him back in meals spent with the couple. He knew there was no other way to get me to attend other than blackmail. I reluctantly accepted that it was a smart move on his part, but it was also motivation for me to not miss another festival.

I had gotten a new patient today and while I was checking his vitals and other basic acoutremon Francis made his first appearance in my work day. I was just so lucky that the fool decided to work the night shifts, the same days I was there too. My ditsy coworkers melted like ice on his tongue so my sour mood couldn't even be justified or shared with anyone around me, most of the sick laying in bed unable to speak even. Though it seemed he didn't work as long of hours as I did, so the last couple hours felt like bliss. He came trotting into the room just as I was finishing up writing something down, a few fleeting notes and things I needed to enter into the database, when he softly whistled at me to catch my glance.

I kept pretending to write more so I didn't have to look up, enthralled with my scribbles.

"Lovi~" he cooed out my name, dragging it out.

"Don't call me that," I said back plainly.

"Dear, I'm just curious about your plans for this Friday night?"

"Not interested," I finally walked from the room, looking up but still avoiding his gaze. I was careful not to brush shoulders with the man as I walked by and b-lined for the computers.

"I haven't even said anything yet!" He just skipped to join me. "Are you going to the festival?"

I was standing even as I typed against the keyboard, Francis leaning his arms across the counter, one that came up to the chest. I recall he looked like a child, swinging his legs back and forth with youthful reckless abandon and a sweet grin across his lips. Though no matter how sweetly he smiled at me, years of experience reminded me that he often had ulterior motives. I did not trust his smile one bit, in fact, it was unnerving.

"We live under a microscope," I mumbled. "It's not like I really have a choice."

"Ah yes," he hummed, content. "Our town is indeed a small one, but charming at that. I suppose Feli wouldn't take it well either if you were to skip it?"

I glanced up at him without moving my head, sending an obvious glare his way to answer the question he seriously already knew the answer to. He chuckled, then dared to reach forward and pat my shoulder. He was lucky he worked in a hospital, because the more he chanced that, the closer and closer I drew to breaking his finger. He didn't seem to notice. Or care. His pretend attention to my interest in the little community we found ourselves squished in did not amuse me (like anything ever really did) and I promptly ignored him for the next few hours. Luckily he found himself busy with answering the phone and dealing with worried relatives so we didn't have to, so he was easier to miss than usual. The hour neared 6AM and I yawned, sitting in my little chair as the floor hit a lull of sorts. Phones were quiet, everyone was peacefully sleeping, and one of the nurses was redoing her ponytail as she used her phone camera as a mirror. Francis was the only one making any sort of noise– packing up his things. In his little sachal he shoved his work book, water bottle, and an assortment of other papers neatly, trying to keep them somewhat organized.

When he glanced at his watch, then towards me with that asinine look about his face, the sleep shook from my eyes in a sudden flurry of curiosity and worry. Why the hell was he looking at me like that, with some coy smirk?

But my thoughts were interrupted, and my questions answered. I suddenly heard the quiet creak of our heavy floor door, one that was loud no matter how slowly you opened it, and saw a tuft of brown curls peak through. An almost shy Antonio scanned the room before landing on Francis with a relieved sigh, like he was scared he was in the wrong place. He certainly looked like it to me, as it was even more strange to me now to see the man in my workplace than Francis. I was frazzled even when Feliciano would come by on the occasion, to drop off a snack or something of the sorts. The town was a separate world from this one, so seeing anyone from one world enter the other was like they figured out how to travel between dimensions. It messed with my head for a bit. I couldn't believe what I was seeing as I watched Antonio silently wade over to Francis and mutter something.

I didn't know what my legs started doing within the next few seconds, but I was so offended at this world-mixing, that I found myself confronting the pair before I knew it.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

"Lovino?"

Antonio copied my stunned expression as he realized I was there, though he didn't look nearly as frustrated. Not at all. He merely looked down at me with a perplexed eye before a hesitant smile drew over him as he drank in everything that was in front of him.

"I knew you were a nurse but I didn't know you worked with Francis," he said.

"You didn't–" I cut myself off in disbelief. I would have assumed he'd tell his buddies immediately.

"Antonio's just come to pick me up," Francis interjected, almost too loudly for the quiet atmosphere the sixth floor was currently enjoying. "Isn't he just a sweetheart?"

"It's really no big deal, Francis."

"Hush, Toni, you really are too humble," the blond between us laughed, slinging his bag over his shoulder before he looked back at me. "Oh Lovi, I must know before I leave, will you be coming to the town meeting today?"

"Town meeting? It's monday."

"Oui but Arthur called an emergency meeting this morning, 9 o'clock."

I groaned and rubbed my forehead, then sighed a heavy sigh. "What the hell is that bastard cooking up now?" I mumbled.

"We'll see you there!"

Francis bid his goodbyes to me with the promise of my presence without my consent. He turned Antonio away from me as he began walking to the exit, his hand across his shoulders. And while I was happy to have the last two hours of my shift free of that man, a little whisper managed to float my way and left a strange taste in my mouth for the rest of the day. Antonio's voice almost sounded sad as I heard it, but I was just hoping I was imagining things.

"He lets you call him Lovi?"

.

By the time I got back into town it was 9:15. At the end of my shift I got a call from Feliciano informing me of the emergency meeting with some panic in his voice, apparently forgetting that I work with a French blabbermouth. He stressed how badly I needed to be there despite not knowing what on Earth Arthur was so upset about. No matter how tired I was after a 12 hour shift and a long car ride home, I still needed to show up, or else the seat he'd save for me would go to waste.

I really would do anything for Feliciano, though it was so much easier to believe I didn't have a choice in the matter. Annoying little brothers will do what they will, won't they? I thought about this as I passed the window of the bookstore and pushed through the door. Several eyes turned to look at me with the ringing of the store bell, staring at my scrubs under that heavy winter jacket I adorned.

"Oh, Lovino," Arthur sighed from his spot in front of the room, as I interrupted him I guess. "Thank you for being on time."

I scoffed at the sarcasm in his voice as I waddled over to where I saw Feliciano and Ludwig were sitting. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Antonio attempt to make eye contact so he could wave, but I ignored him.

"Thanks for calling a meeting right after I get home from an overnight shift at the hospital," I returned, a wrinkle in my brow. He gave me a nasty look back before he refocused and looked back down at his papers. I just leaned over to my brother with a whisper. "What did I miss?"

"He hasn't gotten to the emergency yet, he's just talked about boring stuff."

Feliciano wriggled in his chair as a mixture of suspense and being understimulated. He was antsy, as I'm sure all of us were, since we woke up (or haven't slept at all) early in order to make it here. He was right, Arthur was just talking about the dangers of ticks again (it wasn't even tick season), a topic he quite enjoyed for a reason no one knew. In my peripheral vision I saw Ludwig's hand go over and place itself on top of Feliciano's hand that was resting in his lap; a reminder to not fidget so much, I knew. I heard him suck in a breath, and soon the German's loud voice boomed.

"Will you just get on with it, Arthur?" he said, cutting his sentence off.

"My, Ludwig, I was getting to it," Arthur scoffed. "No need to yell."

"I'm not yelling. This is the natural register of my voice."

I snorted. He wasn't lying. Maybe it was a German thing, I wasn't sure, because I knew Gilbert had a boisterous voice as well. He never quite understood the meaning of an indoor/outdoor voice, but after spending more time with the blond, I figured it may have been something he couldn't help. Ludwig was really just talking how he always does, maybe a little more pointed to gain everyone's attention, but still. Arthur shouldn't be so surprised. Though I suppose it was him being flustered and embarrassed for being called out. I didn't care if he was embarrassed however.

"As I was saying," Arthur continued. "Our winter festival is beautifully on track and is all prepared for friday night but–"

"Where's the bad news?" I heard someone, I think Gilbert, yell from across the room. Toward the back.

"Well let me tell you, Gilbert!"

I was right. Nice.

Arthur cleared his throat in annoyance, his eyes wide like they always get when the town irritates him so. It was funny to watch, and I often enjoyed heckling him like he was a folk singer at a bar, a terrible one, and booing for him to get off the stage. He'd often throw his pencil at me or scream at Alfred to shut up as he was laughing his ass off behind him. It was a good mini tradition of mine. But today it seemed that the entire town joined me in my usual reluctance to be here and listen to him prattle on.

"But," he picked up. "According to recent news forecasts, it's due to snow three to four feet this Thursday afternoon and carry on throughout the weekend."

The crowd suddenly bubbled up with a sound of shock and exasperation. I heard tired mutters from usual volunteers and worried mothers upset with how to break the news to their children. People started talking with one another, a gentle hum of conversation flooding the room. Even Feliciano was in shambles, grabbing onto Ludwig's arm and pleading with him like he could control the weather.

"That'll bury the whole town!" someone screamed.

"Our booths will be ruined!" another said.

"And we've spent so long preparing, canceling it now would be a huge bummer!" Alfred pitched in, then received a glare from Arthur. "As well as a huge loss of money," he added quickly.

"Yeah, Arthur, you hate wasting money!" I knew immediately that it was Francis, but instead of his usual teasing tone which I expected, he sounded more sincere than I thought he would.

"Believe me, everyone, I know what a devastating loss this would be. Not only did we exceed our budget, thinking the funds made from the festival to cover the gap, it would take days to take all the decorations down from all the trees," he gained everyone's attention again. "Not to mention what on earth we'd do with 15 gallons of peanut oil and 700 hot dogs?"

"I can think of something!" Alfred chuckled in his seat behind him on the stage, and Arthur quickly turned around to bat him with his papers.

"So then what do we do?" Feliciano whined.

"Well," our town selectmen said. "I've already talked with the company that sends its snow plow during our hard winter days and negotiated a reasonable price for someone to work overtime during our festival, keeping streets clean during the event."

"But what about the square?" that voice was Antonio, I was certain.

"We will have to have a number of volunteers work Friday morning to clear the square, then an additional group to help set up a tarp before festivities begin."

The crowd started to murmur and gossip again. Arthur had none of it, though, shouting for everyone to calm down and proceed to the front to sign up as a volunteer for either group, then quickly ending the meeting. People stood right after he dismissed us, several heading to the front of the room to jot their names down and get details. I saw the trio in a glance making their way up there and I scoffed, arms crossed. I felt Feliciano and Ludwig get up beside me and then my brother tapping my shoulder.

"Won't you sign up?" he asked.

But I knew better than anyone that wasn't a question, it was a request. I groaned and rubbed my forehead. "I work my ass off to keep people alive. Pass."

"Oh, come on, fratello! Per favore!"

"I'm already stuck at your damn hot chocolate booth, I don't need more shit to do."

"But the booth won't happen if you don't help!"

I stood up and shoved my hands in my pockets, sending a disbelieving look his way. We both knew he was being hyperbolic, simply to get me to feel bad, but he would have to up his strategy.

"Then it's a win-win for me."

I turned my back and left, hearing my brother's complaints, and even a swear word in Italian. Most don't consider Feliciano the type to just shout curses at people, since he never (well, hardly ever) swears. But in Italian… he had no problem shouting something at me if he really wanted to. I was almost proud the first time he called me a motherfucker in front of our grandpa. Although the moment was ruined by grandpa smacking us upside the heads and forcing us to our rooms without supper for the night. He didn't swear in front of grandpa again.

Didn't stop me though! I have the scars to prove it.

(Sto scherzando, nonno.)

I didn't make it very far before I almost ran into someone, letting out a string of my own Italian insults in the process. Typically when I cursed out a fellow townsman I was greeted with a curt 'sorry' or an old woman scolding me for my language once again, even though they know me well enough by now to know that it's a fruitless endeavor. It was a change of pace to be met with Spanish this time.

"Oh, Lo siento, Lovino!"

I was slowly getting used to seeing Antonio everywhere again, my everyday life turning back into the days when I was 18 and worried about the acne showing up on my jaw. I often got pimples there due to leaning on my hand too much– too much oil build-up. I feel lucky to have outgrown that at least. So, it didn't surprise me that Antonio was all over the place, just like high school. That man was everywhere.

"I was actually coming over to say hi to you and Feliciano, but I'm glad I caught you alone," he said. I looked up, perplexed.

"You've gotten creepier in your old age, you know."

A chuckle. "And you haven't changed a bit," his words sounded fond. "I was going to invite you over tonight. Francis and Gilbert have plans for the night and I'll just be so lonesome."

I hummed. "Well that sucks. I'll see you–"

I wasn't apologetic in the slightest, quickly turning my shoulder away and towards the exit before he could say anything more, but his reflexes were faster than I remembered, and he grabbed my elbow, freezing me in my tracks.

"I have all this leftover food I snagged from my job yesterday. It's a bunch of crazy rich people food, I'd appreciate your help and sharp palette with it all."

When I met his eyes again, as cheerful and bright as ever, with my drawn-together brow and angry flare, he let go of my elbow. I was tempted to just leave at that moment, but we both knew I wouldn't do that. Any other time I probably would have accepted (reluctantly as far as he knew), as aforementioned, I was starting to enjoy his company. How I preferred it over sitting alone at home with my anxieties and whatnot. But that was before anything had happened. In the late hours of the night, a week or more ago, the man kissed me. He brought that familiar warmth to my face and made my stomach stutter with a feeling of romantic betrayal. He dared, he leaned forward, and he kissed me.

Before it was easy to explain it away or ignore it, blaming it on drugs. But the thought of his clear mind making such a move had slowly been driving me insane. Desperately, I wanted to ignore it, and avoid Antonio in the meantime until I was able to forget. But he wasn't letting me. Now his endearing look seemed so much more awkward to me, his intentions clouded with confusion and mystery. His gaze and honey-coated tongue made me shiver and uncomfortable. I had thought it was an unspoken, stupid thing we'd do and never address again.

For some reason he seemed to have an ulterior motive, though. But when he looked down at me like that, I didn't want to admit he was so tempting.

He took the moments where my brain was buffering as an acceptance, patting my arm with a gleeful disposition. He declared something about how he was excited before he shifted the topic.

"I'll see you then," he smiled. "Will I also see you friday?"

I shook my head to bring myself back down to reality. "For what?"

"To help clear the snow, tonto. Dio, where is your head today?"

"Oh," I sighed, realization setting in, and pretending like I didn't understand the Spanish he peppered into his speech. He probably thought I was still as bad as I was in high school. "No, I won't be there."

"For shame, Lovino!" He cut me off before I could respond with a flourish of passion in his next words. "You've been a part of this town so much longer than me, where is your sense of loyalty? To help us achieve this goal?"

"So I take it you've signed up to help?"

"Of course," Antonio looked really proud of himself. "Who do you take me for?"

"An idiot who has nothing better to do with his time," I responded plainly. Quickly. As ever though, he seemed unaffected by my words.

He laughed at me like he always did, something that seemed like a default for him at this point, and said something else I didn't quite register before bidding me his goodbyes. I returned the sentiment with a quiet mumble all the same and watched as he regressed unceremoniously, catching up with his two friends. As I watched him leave, I stood still until he was completely out of view. Before I knew it, I was turning to the front and grabbing a pen to sign my name.

.

When I went home that morning I ate about two pounds of leftover pasta my brother made for me then took a seven hour nap. I was elated to finally get some rest after the long couple of days and was relieved to have reached the end of my work week.

When I woke up it was around 5 in the evening and I debated eating more of the leftovers in the fridge until I remembered Antonio desperately wanted me over that night. He hadn't specified when I should be there, but I figured I'd head over soon. I just needed the time to shower and pick out a nice outfit. He'd seen me in my scrubs too much lately for my liking and I had worked so hard to build my reputation as a fashionable individual. I couldn't let that fall.

.

By the time I reached Antonio's apartment, it was around 630.

I was staring at his door for longer than I'd like to admit, spacing out in a world of dissociation. I was popped from my bubble when I heard the slamming of a neighbor closing their door next to me, nonetheless. Behind the door, adorned with scratches no doubt from previous tenants (or the currents, I wouldn't put it past them) I could hear the faint humming of someone. I could tell just based on the tune that he was moving a lot around the space, it growing softer at some times while louder at others. I was confused with myself why I hadn't knocked already, but I understood my reluctance subconsciously however.

I was worried about this man's motives. As spacy and oblivious he is, he's incredibly smart I knew, and sometimes he had the fault for thinking people could read his mind, when really no one had any idea what was swirling around up there. He likely thought we were on the same page about something, but failed to realize I wasn't even reading the same book. Though, it's not like I have really said anything so far. I should probably change that.

With the impromptu kiss and little romantic words he'd float my way, it was becoming more and more obvious that his idea wasn't anything innocent or platonic. I didn't know how that made me feel, but it put a ball of wax in my throat. It was still a shock to me and everyone around me that I was basically friends with the trio now, despite how I hated them in high school. Feliciano pointed out the beautiful irony of it all and how it was nice to see the full circle finally complete. I called him a hopeless romantic (despite being happily engaged) and a sappy poet.

I would have to sort everything out tonight, ask him directly, what on earth was he thinking?

I knocked.

Some startled Spanish noise erupted from behind the door and footsteps quickly followed. It was before I knew it that Antonio was greeting me and ushering me inside, making some comment that he didn't think I'd actually show. True to his word however, I noticed a stunning display of impossibly fancy food laid out on his coffee table. I couldn't identify anything in the mess of obscure and tiny portions, but it did smell damn good.

"What do you do again?" I failed to remember that I had no idea what Antonio's job was.

"I managed to snag this position at a catering company," he explained, moving to sit. "I serve and bartend sometimes, and they always let a lot of the waiters take home the leftovers."

"Oh."

I sucked in a breath and braved my way back over to the couch as Antonio was leaning forward and made a comment about one of the appetizers, how it was a strange color.

"No booze tonight?" I asked, just suspicious at the lack of bottles around.

"Oh don't sound so disappointed, Lovino," he chuckled. "I know it's hard to hang out with me sober, but tough it out this one time, will you?"

"That's not what I–"

"So! Which one should we try first?"

His voice was loud as he clapped his hands together and looked over the miniature buffett in front of us. He urged me to pick one, and with a stiff motion of the hand I grabbed the first one I saw, the one also closest to me. It was a square of something, looking sweet and like a dessert. Something that was either sugar or salt coated the top of the square and it was an unsightly, unnatural yellow hue. I sniffed it but didn't take a bite, meanwhile Antonio had already scarfed down a piece of something else. As he chewed he had a look of pure concentration on his face before it lightened and he shrugged. Not bad, his action meant.

"Can I ask you something?" I said, letting my hand fall from my mouth to my lap, although not letting the sticky square touch my expensive jeans.

"Shoot," he dusted his hands off his pants in contrast.

I hesitated, not sure exactly how I wanted to word what I wanted to say. On one hand I felt like I had thought about nothing else but the moment where I could straighten everything out and explore it in detail, but on the other it's like I hardly thought about it at all. Much less talked about it. Feliciano didn't know more than the fact we'd drink and sometimes makeout drunk, but he didn't know about the night after I left his house, about the way Antonio's been looking at me ever since. Things changed in the blink of an eye and only a month had gone by since the group had settled themselves back down in our sleepy little township. I wanted to know so badly, but I chickened out.

"What'd… what'd you do after graduation?" he sent me a bewildered look. "I mean, everyone's always wondered. You guys sort of just disappeared."

A nostalgic expression washed over him. "We did, didn't we?" he smiled. "That's what we kind of wanted to do."

"...Did you go to college?"

"Do I really look like the college type, Lovino?"

I shrugged, still absentmindedly holding onto the yellow square like an idiot. "I've been trying to figure that out myself."

Antonio sighed and crossed his arms lazily, leaning back into the plush surface of the couch and letting his head tilt back a bit to stare at the ceiling. He seemed to be considering on where to begin, and this only piqued my interest, curiosity taking over as it seemed like he hadn't really led a normal life thus far. Although that wasn't a hard thing to observe. You'd be more surprised if he told you he became an investment broker or an accountant.

"No, I didn't go to college," he said finally. "None of us did, though Francis did get into Stanford."

"You're fucking kidding me," I gaped. "And he didn't go?"

"He thought about it, but he just didn't want to go. His parents were so pissed." Antonio laughed at himself and the memory, as if I could see it too.

"But… but it was Stanford."

"He knew that."

I could do nothing more but shake my head, deciding to leave it alone. I looked down at the yellow square again and decided to just take a bite. I left the conversation float in the air with silence as my answer and bit off a corner of the mystery dessert. Upon first impressions I discovered the coating was caramelized sugar and it was far too sweet for my tastes. It had a strange aftertaste that followed, and I just wrinkled my nose to set it down where I had picked it up. I felt Antonio watching my reaction as I did with him before he situated himself on the couch to where he was facing me a bit more directly.

He didn't fully answer my question from before, about what they did after graduation. Even if the reason I asked was because I avoided talking about my feelings I was still curious. There were several rumors that swept around the people who remained in town for college or the friends who stayed in touch. Someone thought that their parents shipped them off to military schools, or that Antonio was sent back home while Francis and Gilbert moved away. Someone swore that she saw Gilbert working at a Target in Texas, but no one ever really believed that one. No social media, no contact, not even Ludwig was entirely sure where they'd gone. He had a vague idea as apparently Gilbert didn't clear his plans with their parents and Ludwig wasn't privy to the argument. He assumed they went off to travel, and that's what I most likely believed as well. Our town always did seem too small for them. They always wanted more, wanted bigger things, better things. Better than this town could offer.

Better than what I could offer.

I knew I was self centered to think perhaps I meant anything to them. But despite how I yelled at them and loathed their snickering voices, I desperately wanted them to like me. Maybe it's because everyone else liked them and if they then thought highly of me, so would other people. I chased approval a lot in high school, and I look back on it to cringe or keep myself up at night, as sometimes I'm stricken with the fear that I haven't changed a bit. Truly haven't changed a bit. Francis said those words to me not ten minutes into seeing me again, and the rest of the town believed it too. I denied myself the thought that it bugged me, but once again I was looking for approval in some sense. To have an intimidating cloud of coolness around me that no one could help but respect. I admired grandpa for that aura he kept, and I wanted to inherit it so badly. Over the years though it just turned into bitterness.

Perhaps they finally got tired of me, and this town by extension. They had all the fun they could here, exhausted all of their options, and grew bored. Maybe graduation was a relief for them instead of a day full of nostalgic tears and melancholic smiles. They couldn't stop thinking about leaving everything behind.

We were 18 and now we're almost 30. I don't like how things that happened in high school still have such an effect on me. It's frustrating.

I haven't changed a bit.

Despite thinking this way, Antonio still found his way back here. All three of them did, I mean. They all still ridiculed me and laughed in my face, like the old days. Francis still called my clothes tacky, Gilbert still labeled me as a sissy, and Antonio still let his touch linger on me a little too long. Those kinds of touches, the ones where you can't tell if maybe it means something, or that he's just from the land of love and passion and nothing means anything.

"Wanna know what we did instead?" Antonio leaned forward again to try something different, I suppose this one not being too bad as his impression was lackluster. He looked back at me just as quickly.

"Of course I do," I responded. "Bastard, who do you think you are? Leonardo DiCaprio?"

He sighed. "I wish."

"Just spit it out."

Antonio paused once again for dramatic effect, enjoying my unpleasantly dark face getting darker with irrational exuberance and anger. Another thing that hadn't changed. No matter how charmed I was by him, he still always knew how to make me mad and still laugh in my face. The idiot enjoyed it, an adrenaline junkie he must be, cause if he kept doing it I'm sure he knew it would cost his life.

"We were homeless," he smiled. "In Europe and Asia."

Wait a minute.

That can't be right.

These idiots?

"Homeless?" I asked for clarity, he nodded. "Homeless? As in you don't have a home?"

"Yep, we backpacked our whole way through the entirety of Europe, then moved on to Asia when we got bored. We didn't manage to get to every Asian country though…"

I shook my head. "You're way too casual about this, you could've gotten seriously hurt! No phone, no money? What if you got kidnapped or threatened?"

"We did actually! Ah, what a day," his voice got louder. "These modern pirates snagged us and two tourists, poor things, off the coast of Portugal. Luckily my Portuguese is as good as ever."

"You're terrible at Portuguese."

"Well objectively I was the best one there, since I was the only one who knew how to speak even a little."

I would've rolled my eyes if I still wasn't recovering from the shock of the idea of the trio living on the streets. Gilbert had too much of a loud mouth to get along with others right away, and Francis was too particular about his routine and needs, while Antonio was ditsy and was arguably most likely to get them scammed.

"I can't believe you guys didn't get killed…" I mumbled back.

"To be honest, me too."

Antonio's laughter always knew how to light up a room, but to me in that moment it was a damper, the distant roar of thunder in the mountains. It darkened my vision and made a pit in my stomach. It was hard to be around someone so intoxicating, to say the very least.

.

"Hello?"

"Eliza I'm freaking out!"

I had panicked and ran away to Antonio's bathroom to hide. Excusing myself as gracefully as I could I tried not to run and slam the door behind me then scream when Elizabeta picked up the phone. I wasn't entirely sure how I got to where I was. After spending more time talking about Antonio's travels and how he got lost in Switzerland and then how Gilbert almost fell off the Great Wall of China, the gnawing of the heavy, heavy question was weighing me down until I couldn't breathe, like I was drowning.

What am I to you, Antonio?

My best friends in the world, Feliciano and Elizabeta. Neither one failed to bring my hopes up, whether they knew it or not. But right now my brother could only help me so much since I didn't trust him to not tell fellow townsfolk and he actively wanted me and Antonio to hurry up and fuck so we could start dating. Eliza knew nothing though, as I've been slack in keeping up with her lately. She had a big fancy lawyer job over in England and therefore we've missed a lot of each other lately.

"Lovino? What the hell, it's like 5am here."

"Shut up and listen to me."

I heard her crackling sigh over the speaker, then some shifting of bedsheets. "Fine," she complied. "But make it interesting so I don't fall asleep."

I bit my lip, my other hand not holding my phone clenched in the air as I silently prayed Antonio wasn't outside the bathroom door listening in on my conversation. The imagery of the man pressing his ear to a glass against the wood of the door was simultaneously hilarious and gut wrenching. I debated on where to start, how to begin, or even fathom myself how to tell this goings on. But I just needed to swallow it, like a shot.

"Me and Antonio kissed."

Silence.

More silence.

Even more.

Way too long of a pause there, okay what's up?

"Who kissed who," she finally said, a hint of urgency in her voice that made her sentence more of a statement than a question.

"He kissed me."

"Did you kiss him back?"

"Well… Well I–"

A gasp. "Lovino!"

"I know!"

"Have you guys talked about it at all?"

"That's just the thing," I groaned and sat down, picking the floor before sitting on the toilet seat like an animal. "He hasn't said a thing… and we kinda… kept doing it."

"Lovino!"

"Shush!" my cheeks flared with color. "We were high! We didn't talk about it at all, it was like a stupid fucked up mistake that we ignored."

She went straight by the mentioning of me getting high, as she knew I didn't smoke, but I figured at that time that wasn't the main thing boggling her mind. "So neither of you have brought this up in conversation before?"

"No," my voice sounded a little pathetic, how it did when I was in trouble and grandpa was scolding me. He'd ask me if I had done something, to which I'd deny, and then he'd reprimand me until I confessed. The tone of my voice got so timid towards the end when he made me apologize for lying, ashamed and embarrassed. I often curled up on the floor then as well, too shaky to look him in the eye directly. "But then he kissed me again… but like.. sober, before I went to work."

Pointed silence once again.

I hated how she paused like that, she always did that. She'd do it over text and even back in high school too, which was rather annoying to say the least. My only indication that she was still alive and breathing was more shuffling of her bedspread, and I assumed she was sitting up. When she spoke next the quality of her voice changed, and I could tell she put me on speaker phone, no doubt to use both her hands to smooth out her hair and think.

"Lovino," she said. "Did you kiss him back?"

Now I really felt like grandpa was yelling at me. Except when he yelled, he never yelled. He asked these open ended or obvious questions just to humiliate me, talking down to me to make it clear I fucked up. Elizabeta sounded like a mother and suddenly I was sympathetic to any of her future children. I didn't respond, but she didn't let me off the hook.

"Lovino, did you?"