Chaos had erupted in the family room, and Giovanni was frozen in the midst of it.

He wasn't the only one.

"You can read lips?"

Feliciano made a whining sound, shoulders beginning to curl back in, like they had when he was younger. Lovino rounded on Sebastien, finally beginning to understand the horrible thing Giovanni was already understanding.Sebastien, pasted on a light-hearted grin, and responded to the questions flippantly, like the situation was a joke.

"I just picked it up."

Like he was talking about learning some french phrases from a few weeks in France, or learning how to skip stones while passing time at a lake.

"Just picked it up."

Like it was nothing. But Giovanni knew that lip-reading wasn't something simple to learn, wasn't something people just naturally "picked up" as they grew. There was a certain amount to be allowed, of course, but not like this. Not the practiced ability to understand almost perfectly what people were saying, and to respond so smoothly. It was a skill learned over ten years of practice, ten years of constant use. Ten years that Sebastien had actively worked to hide his condition. Giovanni had thought that it would make the guilt easier to know it wasn't just negligence, but that Sebastien was purposely hiding it. Now he was realizing just how wrong he was.

The reason why his brother felt like he had to hide such a dangerous situation, the reason why Sebastien had isolated himself and suffered alone for years.

Giovanni thought he knew what it was.

He moved like in a dream, drifting, crouching in front of his brother, seeking his brother's eyes as though the force of his gaze alone would be enough to draw the green eyes to his own amber ones and hold them there. Giovanni was looking beyond the shutters in his brother's eyes, searching for what scared his brother to the point, even now, he was trying to hide, trying to pretend the issue was nothing.

"Why didn't you tell us?"

And there, behind his brother's eyes, Giovanni found the answer.

"Everyone just had their own problems. I figured it wasn't that big of a deal."

Sebastien lied, pasting on a smile that could not have looked more fake, but in the split second before he did, Giovanni finally understood what was scaring his brother. The thing that Sebastien was most scared of, even more than the restricting silence. More than asking for help.

It was him.

Giovanni remembered something from a very long time ago., something he'd never quite let himself forget, shrouded in guilt.

A knock at the door, light and rhythmic, and Giovanni knew who it was before he spoke.

"Vanni?"

Giovanni was already tired, busy with essays for his online schooling, bills to be sorted, nd exhausted from fighting with Lovino already. From the moment he heard the rap, he'd already resented the brother who knocked.

"Yes?"

He didn't say to come in, but after a moment the door opened regardless, and Sebastien, the second youngest, stepped in. Sebastien was usually the one Giovanni depended on, the one he sat between Feliciano and Lovino, knowing he wouldn't start a fight, the one he knew wouldn't fuss over the food or throw a fit to get his own way. Sebastien was always good, so Giovanni expected him to be good, and maybe that made it more frustration when the "good" child came to him, twisting his hands together and clearly nervous, as though he'd broken something and knew he was about to get into trouble. Sebastien opened his mouth, then closed it again, faltering for words, and in that moment, Giovanni didn't care.

He'd thought there was nothing Sebastien could have broken or ruined that would actually be an issue -Though Uncle Alfonso warned against using it, they were sitting on a mountain of money left to them, so much they could never use it, and anything could be replaced- and Giovanni was too tired to deal with the childish confession and explosive guilt of an eight-year-old. No matter what a big deal Sebastien thought it was, Giovanni, older and wiser, knew better. And, in a mix of indifference, pettiness, and a desperation to avoid more burdens on his shoulders, he spat out the first thing he could think of to shut Sebastien up.

"Yourfratellos are all so troublesome." Giovanni had sighed, softening his cruel act with a deceitful head rub to the younger,"Sebastien, you're the only one who doesn't cause me trouble."

And Sebastien, the "good" child, froze under the weight of the expectations Giovanni laid on his shoulders, and for a moment, Giovanni thought he might cry, his tiny face screwing up into a miserable expression Giovanni had never seen before and didn't know how to place. And it caught Giovanni off-guard. For a second, Giovanni wanted to take it all back and apologize, and tell Seastien he didn't need to be the "good child". And then Sebastien's face changed completely, the misery replaced with a smile that didn't quite cover the stress, and Giovanni thought he'd overthought things after all. Sebastien was only a kid, after all, who'd come expecting to be scolded and was now finding out he wouldn't be. Sebastien shifted, backing away from Giovanni's hand, and replied in the high voice of child.

"Si! I will not cause trouble for you fratello!"

And his second youngest brother left with just those words behind him, and a haunting feeling over Giovanni that he'd just done something very cruel and wrong.

Giovanni wished he could go back in time and slap his seventeen-year-old self. He took Sebastien's hands earnestly in his own, demanding an answer he knew he wouldn't like.

"Sebastian, was it because of me?"

And Sebastien's perfect mask didn't crack once as he responded with a smile.

"I just wanted to be a good Fratello,to all of you."

Giovanni's throat felt hot and itchy, like there was a ball of something spiky stuck in his esophagus. This wasn't right. The way his younger brother spoke and felt wasn't right. He didn't need to be the "good brother". Heshouldn't think that being a "good" brother meant never asking for help. But Sebastien -Matteo pointed it out-was smiling, the "tell" that Matteo had shared with Giovanni, the way Sebastien lied. His little brother, who lied so heart-breakingly confidently, thought this answer was a better one. Sebastien thought it was better to say he couldn't admit a problem so he could be a "good brother", than to say he was scared. And Giovanni was the one who made him that way.

"I'm sorry."

Giovanni had to break this foolish misconception Sebastien had, even if it cost him the trust of his little brothers.

"It's my fault."

Because if Giovanni didn't fix it, he had an urgent feeling that something worse would happen. That the next time Sebastien got hurt and decided to hide it, it would be something much more deadly than hearing loss, and Giovanni's worse fear would come true. So he spilled the shameful truth before all his brothers, choking on his tears -when had he started crying?- and stumbling over the words, and by the time he was done he'd completely dissolved into sobs. Giovanni cried in a way he hadn't cried since their Grandfather's funeral, deep raking sobs, pulling from his chest.

His family, his brother, was breaking apart, and he was the one who caused it.

Somewhere through his own sobs, Giovanni heard a noise Sebastien made, soft and drawn out, like the last bit of air escaping a balloon, and he tried to wipe the tears from his eyes to see his brother's face, to see if what he'd broken was at all worth what he'd been trying to fix. He needed to verify if Sebastien understood, if behind the betrayal, he'd learned to treasure himself. But Sebastien looked traumatized, shoulders shaking , eyes wide and dazed, like he'd been unexpectedly smacked upside the head with a shovel by someone he trusted. No, that was basically what Giovanni had done.

Somewhere to his right, Lovino cursed, loud and sharp, angry.

"Vanni, tell me that you 're lying, tell methat's not true, because if you actually did that, so help me-"

Lovino cut himself off suddenly as something unexpectedly swung up to hit his face , and Giovanni reeled for a second, trying to catch his ballance. Then he saw who hit him, and wilted further. Feliciano, the brother he knew was always a sweet and kind-hearted boy who hated to hurt others, not even bugs, that same precious sweet little brother had slapped him,hard,and was glaring at him with a look of pure anger that Giovanni had never once experienced from the third youngest brother before. For a moment, from shock alone, Giovanni's choking sobs stuck in his throat, and he coughed, cowering under Feliciano's gaze. To make the sweetest of all his brothersso angry, Giovanni knew what the true weight of his selfishness had been, and it was heavier than he could bear. Lovino began to scold again, just as angry and twice as fast, and Feliciano opened his mouth to say something, and Giovanni didn't know how he could face it, but before any of them say anything, Matteo broke in, his voice shrill and desperate.

"ENOUGH! Stop it! Can't you see you're upsetting Fratello!"

And Giovanni wiped his tears away as best he could so he could see the brother that he had caused so much pain. Through his blurry eyes he saw Sebastian start, then look around, seemingly surprised the attention was directed his way again. As though he'd thought he'd be forgotten and ignored while his brothers argued. Like he probably had been many times in the past. Giovanni managed to control his tears. This wasn't the time for him to cry. The one that should cry wasn't him. Sebastien looked dazedly around, then his eyes fixed on Matteo, clenching his fists tightly, and looking moments from tears.

Sebastien lept up from his seat on the couch to pull Matteo into his arms, muttering empty comforts to Matteo, and Giovanni felt that same reoccurring hopelessness, faced with a issue he'd pretended was resolved. Giovanni was putting the pieces together, like a puzzle that was mostly completed, and with each piece he understood more. The reason Matteo left so soon after Giovanni had. The problem Giovanni had only half addressed. Behavioral therapy had helped Matteo learn it was okay to grow up, how to not be babied. But Sebastien had not seen a therapist, he'd not been guided so as not to baby Matteo. And Giovanni understood.

Sebastien's actions said more than words ever could. The reason Sebastien babied Matteo was so painfully obvious to Giovanni in that second. Sebastien was trying desperately to redirect the attention from his self. Giovanni had taught him to avoid showing he had problems, and Sebastien chose to do that by redirecting the attention to the family baby. Matteo struggled, but Sebastien refused to let go, and Matteo gave in, giving Sebastien what he wanted, leaning into him and sobbing.

Matteo said something that Giovanni couldn't catch, and suddenly Feliciano joined the hug, the perfect picture of an older brother. The picture Giovanni should have been in, since a very long time ago. Comforting, guiding, helping. Giovanni should have been there for his younger brothers. He was so deep in his own regrets he missed part of what was being said, and only caught Feliciano's sudden loud and earnest declaration.

"You could have asked us for help at any time!"

And both Sebastien and Matteo shut down at those words. Even through his burning and blurry eyes, from across the room, Giovanni could see the shutters behind his two youngest brothers' eyes, guarded and wary. He already knew the truth before Feliciano admitted it out loud, with a tiny hurt sound at the realization.

"You really don't believe that, do you?"

Matteo looked away, and Giovanni's heart broke. Sebastien stumbled over an excuse, and Matteo took over sharp accusations that none of them could deny. And Giovanni could only watch, an outsider to his own family, watching a terrible drama with only pain and sorrow. His brothers, his own baby brother that he changed the diapers of as infants, that he used to tuck into bed, that he fought to keep them by his side, his innocent, hurt little brothers didn't, nocouldn't rely on him. How had he not seen how his brothers were hurting? How had he let them feel this way? How had he made them feel this way?

Sebastien reached his limits, escaping to the bathroom, and Giovanni knew he couldn't leave it like this. His family, his poor broken family, couldn't fall apart like their home. He couldn't allow it. He pulled himself together and spoke with a thick voice, desperate to tie together what he had left of his family.

"They can't stay here."

Lovino, brows knitted together, swung to look at him, too devastated to even be angry. Feliciano was crying, tears rolling silently down his face. Matteo too, had tears resting on the edges of his eyes, about to fall.

"It's dangerous." Giovanni forced himself to sound less unsteady. "Teo, can you help me pack Seb's stuff?"

And Matteo, lost and despairing, froze for a moment registering Giovanni's words, then, Giovanni saw a flicker of something like hope in Matteo's eyes. Even after everything he'd done, Matteo still believed that Giovanni could fix it somehow. Giovanni had to meet his brother's expectations. Failure wasn't an option. He moved mechanically, gathering clothes from the piles on the floor, and Matteo reacted, running to grab a bag, and a hand reached down next to him to help.

"Then we should all stay at my place," Lovino said, his own voice just as thick at Giovanni's was, "It's closest."

Feliciano wiped at his tears and began to gather Sebastien's pajamas and them them to Giovanni.

"Will that be okay?" Feliciano asked cautiously, "Will Uncle Antonio have enough room?"

Lovino seemed to welcome the question that distracted from his current task.

"It'll be fine, if you don't mind sharing the guest bed with Matteo. Seb can share mine. Vanni can have the couch."

Based on Lovino's rough tone, Giovanni supposed he was lucky that Lovino was letting him in the house at all, and hadn't just offered him the porch. For a moment, there was something that felt right amongst them, the silent packing, the presence of all of them together again. Giovanni knew that wasn't better, and that there was still cracks he needed to face, apologies he needed to say and wounds that still needed to heal, but for a moment he was struck with a feeling of hope. "It will all get better."That's the kind of feeling Giovanni had, and somehow he felt empowered by it.

Until Sebastien returned from the bathroom.

Giovanni didn't understand his younger brother's reaction, why Sebastien was so angry. They were together, working to fix everything, but Sebastien rejected their efforts, lashing out with words that didn't make sense.

"But this is our home!"

And it was, the place where they grew up, with memories, both good and bad, surrounding every room. But that same home was falling apart around them, quite literally. A huge chunk of their house was missing, blocking the elements with a mere sheet of plastic, and the whole house was unstable. It was their home, but it wasn't safe to stay their. Surely Sebastien, now a teenager, almost an adult, should be able to see that? But Sebastien remained stubbornly upset, as though angry they'd suggest to leave, and Giovanni didn't understand why.

And then, just as suddenly as the anger came, Sebastien stormed out, spitting a name that Giovanni didn't recognize, leaving them alone. And Giovanni felt again that heavy weight in his chest, and the understanding that he didn't understand anything. He felt like an imposter in his own family, and stranger acting the part of an older brother. All of the optimism he'd felt only moments ago disappeared, and Giovanni felt exhausted without warning,and he knew why.

Once again, as an older brother and as family, he'd failed. And Giovanni didn't know how to fix things, or what he'd done wrong. Giovanni felt like he was breaking apart on the inside, like sandstone wearing down over time, but he fought his own tears in his throat, trying to swallow past the lump in his throat. The reason he was failing as a brother was because he didn't know his siblings, which was entirely his fault. He had no right to cry because of the consequences of his own actions. And yet-

"Vanni, it's not your fault."

The unexpected comfort came in words he couldn't accept, from an unexpected person: the middle child of the family. Giovanni was so taken aback he forgot to hide his expression, staring at Feliciano with a bewildered expression. And in that moment, Feliciano looked like a stranger, a mature adult instead of a scared little brother. But the compassion and sympathy in Feliciano's eyes hadn't changed from when he was a child, and despite the adult build, deeper voice, and sudden maturity, Giovanni could still see the same empathy that made Feliciano cry over dead flies as a child.

Feliciano was always the sweetest of his brother's, the first to amend his words if he thought they might hurt someone's feelings, always gentle and innocent in his actions and words. If anyone his brothers could say such a thing, and mean it, Giovanni knew it would be Feliciano. But that didn't make the words easier to accept, and it didn't make them true. Maybe Giovanni didn't cause Sebastien's hearing loss, but he wasn't there to help, and shut his brother down when he tried to ask for help. He was the one who made it so Sebastien couldn't trust him, and he was the reason he didn't know how to connect with his brother either. His emotions probably showed on his face, but Giovanni couldn't help it. He couldn't accept the words kindly offered to placate him.

Lovino sighed, standing up, and Giovanni thought he knew it too. Until the oldest of his younger brothers said something he didn't expect.

"Listen, Vanni, he's not saying nothing is your fault, just his reaction."

Giovanni turned his attention to Lovino, and Lovino rubbed the back of his neck as he spoke.

"Seb's a teenager now, and he's hormonal and angry. That's just how teenagers are."

Even more surprising than the words was Lovino's expression as he spoke, an expression Giovanni hadn't seen in a long time. Lovino still looked frustrated, but the anger and hate Giovanni was used to seeing directed at him wasn't there. He still remembered the look of cold fury Lovino had directed at him when he was fifteen and left the house, a striking contrast to his current expression. It was strange to Giovanni. Somewhere in his heart he'd thought he'd always be hated and resented by Lovino, and he knew he'd deserved it, but there was no hate in Lovino's face or words when he spoke, and Giovanni didn't know how to respond to that.

"Let's just go. Seb will come back eventually."

As though unable to stand the atmosphere, Matteo suddenly broke in, grabbing his own bag and heading for the door.

"How can you say that for sure?"

Giovanni asked the question desperately, hoping Matteo was right. It was Feliciano, though, not Matteo, who answered, standing up himself to follow Matteo out the door.

"He said it himself," Feliciano said, more to himself than Giovanni, like he was just realizing the answer himself, "This is his home. Of course he'll have to come back."

And it suddenly clicked into place for Giovanni. The reason Sebastien didn't want to leave. The hurt way he emphasized his words.

"This is myhome!"

For Sebastien, who never left, not like his other brothers, this place was all he had, even if it was falling apart. To Sebastien, who didn't rely on his brothers, he might not even know there were other places to go. It was a bitter feeling to understand.

"How can he think that?"

How could Sebastien not realize any of his brother's would take him in if he ever needed it, that he had Giovanni's house, their Uncle's house where Lovino lived, the apartment Matteo lived in, and even if Feliciano lived out of country, he still would offer his place if Sebastien needed it. Any of them would have helped if Sebastien had only asked, but how could he not realize it? The thing Feliciano had pointed out just earlier was growing more and more painful to Giovanni. It wasn't just that Sebastien didn't think he could ask for help. It wasn't as simple as that.

Sebastien truly did live in a lonely world all by himself, a world where he had no one to help him and nowhere to go but an old, broken house. And Giovanni didn't know how to make Sebastien leave that isolated world he'd learned to live in.

"Of course he'd think it was his home," Lovino retorted, "It's where he's lived his whole life."

Lovino missed the point entirely, or maybe he was just pretending to. Giovanni didn't point it out, his eyes falling on the youngest, one hand already on the door, desperate to leave. It wasn't just Sebastien. Matteo had left too, quietly without telling Giovanni anything. He was only thirteen, but had moved out and got his own place. And even when he'd first told Giovanni that, he hadn't thought much of it, hadn't realized the extent of the hurt behind Matteo's actions. Matteo too, hadn't once asked for help from his brothers.

Giovanni suddenly realized he was the only one not standing, and forced himself to his feet, digging for his keys. At least there was one thing he could still do. He could show Matteo, at the least, he wasn't alone,that he could rely on his brothers, that he could rely on their uncle and Lovino, even if he couldn't let himself trust Giovanni.

"I'll drive."

Lovino, who had his own car, gave Giovanni a look that Giovanni couldn't decipher.

"Feli can come with me then, and Teo can ride with you."

Matteo opened his mouth, perhaps to argue, but Lovino was already headed for his car, and Feliciano quickly ran after him, leaving Giovanni awkwardly with the youngest brother he barely knew. Looking disgruntled, Matteo stomped to Giovanni's car and threw his bags in, getting into the passenger's side, so Giovanni took his spot at the wheel.

For a while, they drove in awkward silence, following Lovino, neither Giovanni nor Matteo knowing what to say. Then, finally, Matteo broke the silence.

"Fratello is stupid. He thinks that if he waits, everyone will come back."

Giovanni's fingers tightened on the wheel, turning his knuckles white.

"He thinks that everyone will come back."

But Giovanni knew. He wasn't a child anymore, not like when he suddenly became the guardian of his own little brothers. Giovanni was already an adult, and understood things children didn't. What Sebastien was hoping for, their whole family gathered together again, living under the same roof, was a dream that would never happen. All the older brothers were already adults with their own lives and homes, and even in such a situation, it was impossible for them to leave everything behind and go back to how it was before. Not just because of the relationships they'd built, or personal feelings, but also because they had nowhere to return to.

Sebastien was still a child, frozen in time, waiting for his family to go back to "normal". But normal had changed, his family had changed. Still, it gave Giovanni a bit of hope. The silent, isolated world that Sebastien lived in wasn't impenetrable. His younger brother wouldn't have a reason to wait if it was. Even Sebastien's pitiful choice to stay waiting in an empty house was a sign, perhaps the first that Giovanni had caught in a long time. Sebastien, alone, confused, and hurting, was crying for help in the only way he knew how, even if his little brother didn't realize it. And, no matter how foolish his brother's dream was-

"We did come back." Giovanni quietly responded. "It's not too late."

And Matteo made a strange, choking noise, like something was stuck in his throat, and Giovanni chanced looking away from the road to see his littlest brother's expression. Matteo looked like he'd been punched, and Giovanni's heart ached because he knew why. Matteo, like his older brother, still wanted his family back together too, even if he didn't want to admit it. Giovanni wondered if Matteo had left their house as a cry for help himself. Had he been hoping that Giovanni would scold him, saying that thirteen was too young to live alone? Because itwastoo young, and Giovanni was only just now understanding that.

Giovanni had only been fourteen, a year older than Matteo was right then, when he'd suddenly been forced to become an adult. But he'd forgotten that fourteen was still just a child, he'd forgotten how his uncle Alfonso had been there to support and guide him, how he'd even relied on his siblings. Even his brothers had helped with chores, helped to take care of each other. Not like Matteo. Even Lovino, who left when he was fifteen, had relied on an adult for help. But Matteo didn't have an adult like that. And it was Giovanni's fault.

It was Giovanni who left them alone, and Giovanni who had made it clear that Uncle Antonio was not welcome in their house after he took Lovino away. Of course, Giovanni knew that Uncle Antonio was only trying to help, that it was for Lovino to at least have someone to run to,that an adult could support him better, but even so Giovanni hadnt forgotten the last time his uncle had tried to steal his siblings away. Even then, he'd known, even at such a young age, that his Uncles had only been trying to help, in a strange misguided way, but there was a part inside Giovanni that still wasn't ready to forgive his uncle for stealing his brother's away, not once, but twice.

He hadn't realized how isolating it would be for his brothers when he banned their uncle from their house. If he hadn't done that, if Uncle Antonio had been an option for Matteo, would his youngest brother be living alone in the world? He didn't - Giovanni realized this with a shock- he didn't even know where Matteo's apartment was, or who had signed for it in place of his brother who was a minor. Who had helped Matteo move out? Giovanni's hands felt sweaty on the wheel.

He didn't want to forgive Uncle Antonio. He didn't want to thank him, even after all he'd done for Lovino. But he would still have to face him in only a few minutes, and Giovanni wasn't ready.

Unfortunately, time was not on Giovanni's side, and Lovino's car turned into a driveway, and reluctantly, Giovanni followed it. Matteo did not seem to have any such qualms, and the car barely stopped before he jumped out and headed towards Lovino. But Giovanni stayed, trying to gather his nerves, watching from a distance as the door opened into the night and light spilled out, and a man appeared in the doorway.

In the dark, it was hard to make out his features, what expression he had, especially from this distance but the man Giovanni remembered as a towering wall seemed smaller with his silhouette framed by the light in the doorway. And when Feliciano suddenly lurched forwards to catch their uncle in a hug, Uncle Antonio was barely a head taller than him, almost disappearing in the hug. Lovino moved forward into the light, smacking Feliciano on the head as he went back and he released their uncle.

Then, as the two older of his younger siblings went inside, Giovanni saw Matteo's small form, barely reaching their Uncle's chest with his head, step forward. He was too far away to see their expressions, and much too far to hear their voices, but Giovanni wondered if Matteo was blaming their Uncle for his absence, ignorant that it was Giovanni's fault. Was Uncle Antonio now explaining that he had no choice, that Giovanni had made it that way? Then... Matteo must be resenting him. Suddenly, the figure on the doorstep turned towards his car, and without meaning to, Giovanni shrank down in his seat, trying to disappear.

The courage to face his Uncle, the courage to face his brothers, the courage to admit it was his fault, Giovanni suddenly felt he didn't have the courage. From the start, it was always courage he was lacking, the courage to properly take care of his brothers, to the courage they wouldn't leave him, to the courage to try to bring Lovino back. He'd never had the courage he needed, but at that moment especially, Giovanni felt small and scared.

"What do I do, Grandpa?" He whispered the words to a person who could t answer, no matter how much he needed it, "How can I fix this?"

He curled further into himself, resting his forehead on the wheel, wishing he could shrivel away and disappear. He wanted desperately to just drive away and leave, but he couldn't do that. Not after he resolved himself to fix what he broke, to be there for his brothers to make up for when he wasn't. Not when he'd already promised Matteo that it wasn't too late for their family. Giovanni needed to be the change their family needed. He couldn't keep waiting for everyone else to change.

But he wasn't ready, not yet. Even if he reasoned that he needed to go in, his body refused to listen, shrinking from the thought. Giovanni was so engaged in this silent battle that he almost missed the tapping on the car window, and when he did notice he jerked his head up in a startle, eyes wide. And, on the other side of the window, the man Giovanni had tried to hide from had come to drag Giovanni out of his hiding place. With no other choice, Giovanni stiffly opened his door, reluctantly sliding out of the car.

"Uncle Antonio."

The words didn't come out quite right as a greeting, but didn't have enough other emotion behind them to mean anything else. The words came out in the same way as Giovanni did: hesitant and wary. Uncle Antonio studied Giovanni for a moment, sharp eyes in the dim light seeming to look right through Giovanni. Giovanni looked right back, searching for his Uncle's verdict, for resentment, or forgiveness, or wariness in his Uncle's face. And as the lights in his car faded out, he thought he saw his Uncle's face soften, before it became too dim to see his face at all. And when Antonio spoke, his voice was also soft.

"You look tired, nipote."

And that was all it took for tears to start trailing their way down his cheeks. And with them, words slipped out.

"I'm sorry." Giovanni's breath hitched as he tried not to sob audibly, "I'm sorry, Uncle. I wasn't able to I couldn't - because of me-"

Apologies only seconds ago he thought he was incapable of, sentences he couldn't finish, and crushing guilt overwhelmed Giovanni, leaving him feeling lost and abandoned. Antonio moved, and Giovanni flinched, waiting for the anger, or resentment, angry or sharp words to rebuke him. He didn't expect the strong arms to encircle him, pulling him into a tight hug as though he was still the small child that used to be able to sit on his uncle's lap while Antonio read him stories. Like he was six instead of twenty-six.

Giovanni melted into the hug, a comfort he'd been craving for years but hadn't let himself have. In a moment, he would pull away, he'd properly explain his apologies and what he had or hadn't done, then he'd go inside and face his brothers, and try to figure out where Sebastien had gone and how to contact him, but right then, in that moment, Giovanni focused on getting the love and comfort he needed so badly.