The rest of the day had gone by quite normally. He cleaned the shop, watered the flowers, cleaned the sign and gave some fragrant flowers to some old people.
Then he went home, ate something, yelled at his brother, did his math, slept and then started all over again.
It was all happening so fast. First of all, his brother talked to him about what he was sure was his boyfriend, then he ran into a drunken German who was harassing him at work, and finally, to round up that nice shitty dish, Feliciano had decided to invite that Ludwig guy to dinner with them just today.
It was a strange atmosphere around him lately. He couldn't even understand himself, let alone the others.
He simply wanted to stay quiet in his shop, taking care of his beautiful flowers and eating alone and in peace, a nice plate of spaghetti with fresh tomatoes from his garden that he carefully cared for.
Of course, the work had taken up his time to devote to agriculture, but he did everything he could to donate at least a couple of hours a day to his garden. Both to check it and for any adjustments and a nice check-up of his delicious seedlings.
And he wasn't going to do any of that. The closing time of the shop was getting closer and soon he would find himself sitting at the table with the two lovebirds.
He had kept his shop open on that Sunday just because he was waiting for a delivery from Ivan, the rather disturbing Russian guy who brought those famous and beautiful sunflowers to him.
Lovino asked for a few extras just because his brother had destroyed the few remaining ones yesterday, and was surprised by the kindness of the boy in delivering the flowers on a day that was not exactly a working day.
He arrived at the shop at about 6 in the afternoon, holding the cardboard in his hands, with a smile so perfect that even the bravest of the soldiers of ancient Rome would have shuddered.
It was a simple pulled-faced smile that Lovino found particularly disturbing. But everything took second place when he looked at the beautiful flowers and said to himself that that thrill and those beads of sweat were worth it for such loot, which was not even particularly expensive.
He had stacked the boxes on top of each other ready to take them out in the paper bin, but just when he stepped outside the door he saw a slender, tanned figure running towards him quickly waving both of his arms.
Oh, mamma mia. Oh my goodness.
It was that bastard Antonio. Lovino hurried back after throwing the boxes in hastily and rushed into the store, slamming the glass door.
Seriously, that door was bound to break down sooner or later.
"Where the fuck is that fucking remote!" His sweaty, soiled hands slid on the table quickly feeling it, trying to find the remote control that would be used to lower the shutter.
after throwing whatever was on the table, flying pliers, scissors, and even keys, he found the infamous object that would save his ass.
and after dropping it on the floor a couple of times because of his buttery hands, he began to press down hard on the self-convince himself that it would serve to increase the speed of the shutter closure.
"Hey Lovino! Am I still in time to buy some flowers?"
"No! Go away, it's not work day!"
"But you're open..."
"Not anymore now! Get the fuck out of here, it's closing day and you can't buy anything!"
"Come on, please! It's urgent, they're for Belle!"
"I don't give a fuck who they are for, my fucking store is closed and you need to go somewhere else!"
Although the shutter was well closed, Antonio's loud, whining voice was audible, and this irritated Lovino.
Antonio at that moment was like a downpour on a hot and beautiful late spring day, or like a thunderstorm on a day that was already going to suck, considering that today he would have thrown his food to satiate the stomach of a potato that probably didn't understand a fucking even how to fucking cook properly.
He didn't want to deal with that dirty Spanish traitor anymore, which was the perfect icing on the cake for every shitty day he started.
He had resigned himself to the fact that he would have him up on his ass until his stay in Germany, which by the mercy of the divine Lord, wouldn't be for long.
Antonio, Francis and his boyfriend were there on business, which meant they would have to leave after January when the 6 months of probation abroad would have ended. Therefore, unlike Lovino, they had not moved out because they wanted staff, but had been sent by their company in order to accustom their employees to a possible stay abroad in their future working experience.
They worked in different sectors, but they decided to stay in the same country in order to feel less lonely and continue to be assholes together.
Lovino emitted a heavy sigh of resignation, blinking his eyelids fast as if waking from a deep sleep, then wrinkling his eyes hastily and dropping a few of his long eyelashes.
And just when he thought he had chased away the annoying Spanish fly, he heard it slamming its fists against the shutter.
"I told you to leave, I don't work on Sundays!" Lovino's voice was a frightening growl, you could even hear his teeth scraping against each other so ferociously that he thought they had generated fire, by dint of going at that speed. He was not accustomed to such insistence, and it was pressing on his nerves.
"But please, I don't know where else to go, it's all closed!"
"Get the fuck out, I said! I'm late because of you!"
"Oh? For what?"
"It's none of your fucking business and now get the fuck out before I cut off all your limbs with my pliers!"
Lovino remained locked in the shop until he felt his fists stop pounding on his shutter and heard the heavy, knocked-down footsteps of a man walking away, feeling defeated.
He felt good actually, with these gestures he was able to take that little revenge for what happened with him.
To tell the truth he was sorry that Belle could not receive his flowers, but then he remembered that they would go into Antonio's hand before being given to the girl, and when he thought of his slimy hands touching her beautiful flowers, he felt a shiver of disgust in his back and a sense of vomiting that gave him a headache.
The rhythmic ticking of the clock on the wall filled the room, which at that moment was only animated by the noise Lovino made, trying to clear his voice and breathing hard to catch his breath after screaming like mad at the stupid Spaniard who was literally giving him a heart attack.
He looked at the imposing clock with the Roman numerals. He had found it among some of his grandfather's belongings when he was clearing out his old house to get rid of his junk.
The old man certainly had good taste with literally everything. He loved antique shops so much that he went there every weekend and turned his house into a real history museum.
Lovino had only set foot in his grandfather's house a year after his death because he felt uncomfortable doing it earlier, and he would wait until he got over it psychologically.
And then instead, he had started to enter the house alone almost every day after the night shift he did when he was still working as a waiter in a disgusting German pizzeria, which only had the name of "pizzeria".
Every step, every time his foot touched the ground, his body was shaken with a sense of sadness and his eyes became shiny as his face was shed with subtle tears.
When his hands shook, he would calm down and still feel the sensation of his grandfather taking his hand and holding it.
When he was a child and still couldn't swim, Romolo used to take his hand and drag him into the water with him, telling him that everything would be all right and that he would turn into a little fish once he learned to swim well.
He was sure he could still smell the old man and his favorite Cologne scent, that he sprayed himself daily on his neck and big wrists when he left home just to go shopping at the supermarket.
His clothes in the closet were all extremely sober and elegant, but he too often broke the rule and wore very tacky and antique gold necklaces that meant a lot to him. Lovino therefore let it go and didn't overwhelm him with his style tips when he saw him wearing a wrinkled white shirt and those hateful gold necklaces, as he understood that they were a sign that distinguished his grandfather from the others.
He had decided to keep the clock, it was perhaps the most beautiful piece of antique he had ever had. Although time had yellowed it and caused some damage to its mechanism, Lovino never stopped admiring it.
He knew that one day that it would break, and with him also the feeling that Grandpa Romolo was still with him, living in that clock. But at the same time, it wouldn't go away. It would just break, which meant that even if it didn't work anymore it would still be there, broken but there, alive in his death just like his grandfather.
Lovino, sitting in the wicker chair with his legs dangling, looked at that clock passively one last time before its solemn sound fell back into the small room.
"Fuck, fuck! It's 8:00, I gotta get home, I ain't even got shit to eat !" Of course, not that he would mind if the German had starved to death, but in a way all this stress had also caused himself a big hole in his stomach, which would hardly have filled up without a good meal.
He had realized that he had locked himself in the shop, and even though he was afraid of finding Antonio out again, he decided to go out without waiting any longer.
He lifted the shutter and noticed with pleasure that he was alone, while the sky had turned the most beautiful shades of orange and red. It was barely sunset, and that pinch of typical summer days was still alive in the early days of September. The days were still long, and the wind was dry and warm.
He closed the door with the keys with a precise movement, and waited for the shutter to lower again to the rhythm of the remote control. This time he was outside the shop, and while he waited for the shutter to lower, he looked up: his green eyes stared at the colored mosaic that made up the sign of his shop, and he could not help but smile at the sight of his deformed reflection small fragments of glass.
"Gilbert, we're late because of you. One more time" well, not that it was news, he'd resigned himself by now.
Ludwig raised his thin, blond eyebrow, giving Gilbert a good enough look while his thin lips and small mouth were wrinkled in a slight pout, giving the German a rather funny expression even though his intention was not really to make the Gilbert laugh on that occasion.
"It doesn't matter if we're late, Italians always do that. Why can't we be the ones who are late for once?"
"We are guests and we must be punctual. It is our duty."
"Duty, duty, duty, blah blah blah Lud!" Gilbert turned his head towards his brother, puffing and shaking his head to get his wet hair off his face, which prevented him from seeing. "You're so un-awesome lately. Or rather, you never have been, but lately you've gotten so bad that even my iron-made personality is having trouble putting up with you."
"Take a shower and hurry up" Ludwig knew that this was simply Gilbert's attempt to provoke and cause an unpleasant reaction from himself, but he did not know that this time he had played tricks and would predict his moves.
He absolutely didn't want to spoil his dinner with Feliciano because of some stupid overgrown child's whim.
"Beware that my awesome ass won't win back your prey again! I'll be shining like a diamond and you will be just my shadow! I'm so fucking handsome" Ludwig turned his eyes, emitting a hissing sigh and then looked in the mirror.
He grabbed the comb made of bone and brushed it over his hair, combing and further adjusting his slicked-back hair, which had been filled by wagons of hair gel, so they wouldn't move from their position. They made him look cheeky but hey, he was still elegant.
he raised his right brow and lowered the opposite one, slightly wrinkling his mouth and imagining a conversation with Feliciano, while he insisted on adjusting the bow of his tuxedo with both hands zigzagging it.
"Hey, stop improvising as a model and comb that cowlick hair again! Bring me the clothes I have on the bed!" Gilbert came out of the bathroom holding the towel tied around his waist, while with a smaller one he dried his platinum blonde hair with a strong hand movement.
Ludwig nodded bringing his brother what he requested, albeit slightly embarrassed at the thought of having just been caught making flirtatious faces in front of the living room mirror, which were supposed to be "sexy" but were in fact just plain ridiculous enough.
"Doesn't that seem a little overdressed to you?" He looked at Gilbert's clothes and a puzzled expression rose up over his face, twisting his head. They were simple leather trousers with matching jacket and an almost transparent white t-shirt. Yes, he really seemed to want to show off his nice pack of abs, the result of years of intense training in the gym.
"Hmm, you're right. Maybe I should take the jacket off? Yeah, definitely. Bad boy style that's not very awesome or in vogue right now."
"I mean, I don't think he's fit for dinner."
"Oh, come on Bruder! You're the one who dressed up to eat at his house! You're the one who dressed up like that Austrian friend of yours! He must have really infected your development as a real German man."
"But the Germans dress the way I do."
"Chatter! Now shut up and let me get ready, I gotta shave this pretty face." He stroked his right cheek firmly and then pinched himself on the opposite one.
He slammed the bathroom door in his brother's face, puzzled and still slightly embarrassed.
He turned around ready to go back into the living room and sit on the sofa to wait, but trying not to shrivel his trousers, but as he set off he was lured by a pile of dirt and rubbish and numerous clothes brutally thrown on a chair in Gilbert's room.
"Ah Gilbert, always the usual" he opened the window to make change the air that was definitely spoiled, and then he began to remove one by one the cards of snacks by throwing them in the newly emptied bin, along with pieces of aluminum that had made paper for some sausage sandwiches dating back to a few weeks ago.
"What- oh, you still have this? Looks like it's been used recently..." Ludwig's scrutiny eye came back to life after a period of inactivity. After removing a sweat-soaked shirt lying on his desk covering his computer keyboard, he saw to his surprise the famous red diary that Gilbert kept as if it were a relic of some saint.
Gilbert had had several diaries, and this must have been the most recent. He could tell this only by feeling the cover of the diary, which was not ruined and had no dust or yellowed pages. As he turned the diary over in his hands, he looked at it between his short eyelashes, slightly narrowing his eyelids to bring the object into focus, bringing his face closer and closer to the cover.
And well, he decided to open it up and take a look. He wasn't used to peeking into his brother's private things, but not even his stable and serious attitude could hide his monkey-like dose of curiosity.
"Dear awesome diary, today Gilbird threw up on me after eating an extra dose of food. That's disgusting! His vomit got my shirt dirty, but hey, even when he throws up, he's as magnificent as his owner."
"Dear awesome diary, today Roderich fell down the stairs in front of everyone! HAHA! I might have put oil on it to make him slip... I might."
"What the-?" Ludwig gazed with surprise. Poor Roderich, he thought. That's why he had been wearing the cast on his right leg for more than two months.
He had to admit that Gilbert was quite exhilarating, and imagining the scene of the Austrian tumbling down the stairs, a faint smile began to take place on his face but it quickly faded away when he realized what he was doing, breaking that nascent smile on his face and shaking his head to get rid of that funny thought.
It was the only episode he remembered because his brother had told him about it. He laughed so much, but so much that his stomach hurt and he started to cry with laughter.
Going back through the pages, however, Ludwig didn't seem to know what year the diary belonged to; he thought it was probably from the last years of high school, but he couldn't say for sure since Gilbert was so lazy he even avoided writing down at least one date.
He kept reading.
Dear awesome diary, Elizaveta and I are engaged! "It's the most wonderful day of my life! "She's awesome too, though not as awesome as I am. I'm so happy I even forgot to feed Gilbird."
"Dear awesome Diary, it's been three months since our engagement to Elizaveta. I see her far away, she no longer kisses me and doesn't even want to make love. I'm very sad to tell you the truth. I never thought I'd find myself in this pitiful state. The magnificent depressed Gilbert eating industrial quantities of ice cream with his spoon. Would you ever have guessed? Well, I wouldn't."
"Dear awesome Diary, Elizaveta and I broke up. I cried for days, especially when she told me the reason of the breakup was Roderich. She realized that she loved him and saw me as a friend, not the other way around as she admitted the first few days. Unbelievable, that shitty-ass Austrian piece of shit is better than me, wow."
"Dear awesome Diary, Elizaveta and I are no longer friends. I didn't feel like going on. I think I fell in love with Feliciano, he's so cute! He stood by me while I faced the post-breakup state."
"Dear awesome Diary, all has been lost. Ludwig loves Feliciano, and vice versa. I think I'll leave the two of them together without even a fight. I'm bound to be dissatisfied, but hey! At least I have my magnificent ass. That's all I need.
P.s after 2 days. I'm lonely. Being alone really sucks."
"Oh, Gilbert..." was all he could say. He softened his ever-rigid face, and a tear ran down his cheek.
He never expected to read of his brother's frailty, of how he really felt. He had never wanted to push him too hard to confide, but reading those little fragments of his life had made him more human in Ludwig's eyes. He had exposed his weaknesses in a little diary.
His brother felt so alone. Of course, he knew that, but he didn't imagine so much loneliness. And not because he had a diary, but because he admitted to himself that he was lonely and even wrote about his state of mind.
"Hey Lud, what are you doing in my room?" Ludwig shuddered and shivered, making the diary fly out of his hands, but he took it in time and hid it under his jacket.
He turned with a forced and embarrassed smile as he rubbed his hand against the back of his head.
"What the fuck is that face? Oh, you were cleaning! Thank you Bruder." Gilbert smiled energetically, patting his brother's shoulder and looking up at the sky he could breathe a sigh of relief, relaxing his stiffened muscles and letting the fire on his embarrassingly lit face go out slowly and without the intervention of the firemen.
"So, shall we go? It's 8:30, we're late."
"Oh, yes Gil. Uh, by the way..."
Ludwig approached Gilbert, surrounding him with his mighty arms and holding him in a shy hug, resting his head on his left collarbone.
Gilbert gouged out his eyes, puzzled. He remained motionless without reacting to this unexpected action, but it did not take too long for him to return the hug, holding his brother in turn and rubbing his hand on his shoulder.
Their arms squeezed around each other and held their breasts together, while another warm tear descended on Ludwig's cheek, but he dried with a quick movement of his index finger so as not to be noticed by his brother.
it was a warm, brotherly hug, and gilbert was sure it would give him strength. the way ludwig held him, reminded him of when they were children.
"what was that for?"
"Oh? Nothing, nothing" the embarrassed face of Ludwig, who avoided eye contact and covered himself with a rosy towel, was the first thing that Gilbert noticed after detaching himself from the shy hug. He hadn't received something like that in years, and it made him feel good for a moment.
"All right, Bruder. I love you too, but we should really go now," he pointed his thumb at the door, nodded and grinned with his eyes closed, only to be replaced by a shy smile of joy that was obviously hidden by Ludwig.
"Hey, I'm sorry, I've been acting not great these days." It was what the albino did not hesitate to say when he took his seat in the car and his brother got behind the wheel. He didn't apologize often. In fact, he never did. But with his brother he knew he could do it without feeling judged or ridiculed.
"All right, Gil."
"Thank you! You're the best!"
"So are you."
"Aw Luddy, you don't need to say that, I already know! In fact, you're the second best."
"You're always the same," he puffed, giving his brother a sweet, quiet look, always careful not to be noticed by the latter, "but I love you for that too."
"Feli, I'm home!"
"Finally Lovi! I thought you weren't coming!" Feliciano was all smiles, and leapt towards his brother wearing an apron with tomatoes.
"Have you started cooking yet?"
"Yes! I was afraid you were late, so I've almost got everything ready."
"Perfect. Hey, where's the potato bastard?" It was natural for him to ask that question. It was 8:30 and there was no trace of the nauseating smell of potatoes, which made Lovino doubtful. But hey, good for him. His nostrils and taste buds would stay intact for a while.
"Maybe he's late. A bit odd for a German, isn't it?" Feliciano giggled, squeezing his eyes and covering his mouth with his fragile hand, while with the other hand he was still holding the ladle with a few drops of fresh tomato sauce on it.
Lovino could not help but notice his brother in his entirety and complexity. The peach-coloured face gave youth and infantility to his already young and pure face. His coppery, disheveled hair had pins of sweat, and was pulled back by a headband, so as to move the rebellious tufts from contact with the eyes, which would otherwise have made it difficult for Feliciano to cook.
Also, the hair could have ended up in the pot while he was cooking, and that would have been very unattractive.
He had changed his mind: first he thought it wouldn't matter if the German liked it or not, but in fact now he wanted him to find his food so good that he even cried thinking how disgusting his food was compared to the heavenly italian delicacies.
"Come on Feli, this food must be fucking good" Feliciano rolled his eyes and a big, bright smile was drawn on his already radiant face, following the 8th quotation from Lovino.
The boy rushed into the kitchen, looking and analyzing the contents of the pots and pans. He was enchanted by the sound of the sizzling meat in the pan, its genuine smell and how he could already taste it just by looking at it.
He heard the gurgling of the sauce in the large pot, and quickly moved the lid to take a generous spoonful of sauce. It tasted wonderful, something astral. He could feel the little pieces of meat in the sauce melt in his mouth, and the taste of the sauce was the perfect accompaniment.
He added just a few pinches of salt and rosemary and then immediately went to take a quick look at the lasagna that was cooked in the oven, and just seeing the mozzarella melt slowly overwhelmed by the heat, made Lovino's stomach grumble, who licked his lips at the thought of enjoying that good thing.
It was a blessing for the sense of smell, for the eyes, for the palate, for everything! It was fucking perfection.
"Bravo Feli. It was really perfect, I wonder how a dumbass and slacker like you could make something like this." Lovino sincerely complimented himself, crossing his brother's clear eyes.
"Well Lovi, I actually followed the recipes that you and Grandpa wrote in the book. They're perfect!" He smiled in response, awakening in Lovino a sense of pride in himself that he had missed.
"Should I bake a cake?" He asked.
"If you really want to, yes! Ludwig would like it!"
"Hey! I'm doing this for you, not for that rotten potato!" The boy's face was again formed by wrinkled eyebrows frowning at his mouth and gnashing his teeth as he waved his hand bent like an artichoke under his brother's innocent face.
"Okay, okay sorry! Don't do it if you want to!"
"I do, but we're the only ones who'll eat it! Got it?" It's true, he wanted the German to like their food (but for pure revenge, eh!) but he certainly didn't want to let them taste the dessert. No, that was too much. It would have been enough to put on the tip of his disgusting tongue a drop of sauce, which would have already basked on the floor exploding in a thunderous sorrow.
The ringing sound of the doorbell didn't take long to arrive, making Feliciano jump into the kitchen, who threw his apron in an instant and hastily adjusted his hair with a wooden brush. He was very elegantly dressed. A white shirt with four unbuttoned buttons that allowed a glimpse of the chest, and black straight pants made of cotton, tight at the waist with a very dark leather belt.
Everything fitted with his skinny figure, and the way the clothes fell perfectly over it made the boy a perfect Armani model. The bright amber eyes, the light splash of freckles and the face surrounded by his coppery hair together with his rebellious curl, made Feliciano a perfect picture. It was beautiful, of a surreal and dazzling beauty.
"Oh Lovi open up! Eh, one thing... could you be nice to Ludwig? Please, do it for me." Feliciano gave his helpless puppy eyes, putting his hands together in front of Lovino who stepped back, taken by surprise.
He looked at him passively, raising a corner of his mouth "I promise you nothing" and went to open the door.
There he is, Ludwig. A pile of muscles, blond hair and piercing blue eyes. I wonder if he was even funny? Haha, no way. He was German. Is there really such a thing as nice Germans? No, they were just a myth and the least believable of all the legends.
"Um, hi, I'm Lud-"
"He's in the dining room, you Kraut bastard" Lovino said in a surprisingly calm tone, but refused to look at him or shake his hand, completely ignoring it, even moving the hand away from him to with a light slap.
Ludwig was surprised and amazed in a way he could not define, but he shook his head and then nodded to the green-eyed man as he went where he had ordered him to go.
"Ludwig! ciao, how are you? You look handsome!" Feliciano smiled, jumping at the neck of the German who kept scratching the back of his neck as if he had a mosquito bite, holding the Italian in a tight hug that he thought would suffocate him.
Lovino closed the door, following the two of them into the dining room.
"So Ludwig, this is my older brother Lovino. He is 22 years old, born in Naples in 199-"
"Yes, Feliciano, for the mercy of the fucking God! Now you want to give him my Social Security number too?" He barked leaning out on the table and banging his fist on it, which blew up all the cutlery and plates still waiting to be filled, only to strike the German with his eyes because in his opinion he had an expression that aimed to make fun of him.
The German cleared his throat again, loosening his jib and trying to brush his face.
He was in an obvious state of embarrassment, and he didn't know what to do. He looked at Lovino shouting at his brother, calling him impolite, alternating ferocious words with outrageous gestures. He moved his arms continuously, as if hunting an annoying swarm of bees around him.
and then he looked at Feliciano, who didn't really know how to react to what could be yet another rant from the older brother.
Were they always like that when they had guests? He thought it was an Italian habit. He understood very little about them.
"So Ludwig, here we have-" Feliciano relaxed his voice and quietly resumed speaking under his brother's look of approval, but was interrupted again by the ringing of the doorbell.
"What the hell? You potato bastard, you brought the whole gang of seven dwarves you work with in the mine?" Lovino got up steaming without even looking anyone in the face, getting up from the table by pressing his hands on the table to make himself strong, annoyed.
He felt upset in his daily life, and when he tried to maybe feel comfortable with what he hoped he would NOT be his brother-in-law in the distant future, he was punctually disturbed by sounds, noises, or phrases that he did not like and that his brother used to pronounce.
However, it wasn't that the poor guy had a cat, but just looking into his eyes, Lovino could feel a slimy and disgusting feeling pervading his body, indicating that the guy was not a reliable guy at all and that he was just an ugly, short-haired, blond-haired, muscle-bound guy with his brain crushed like a potato.
"Hey Feliciano, haha you forgot about the aws-" the radiant, amused smile of the guy at the door gradually faded, making both corners of his mouth lower and raising his eyebrows in amazement.
"What the fuck are you doing here? Then I was right, you are the bastard's brother!" Lovino's rude words full of wrath, did not at all cheer Gilbert, who was uncomfortable enough to look at his bright olive green eyes which were injected with blood and death.
"Another rant" Ludwig thought, puffing and holding Feliciano in his place, warning him not to meddle in the situation that would soon precipitate, considering the imminent possibility of confrontation between two potentially dangerous elements.
"Hey, man, calm down. Look, I'm sorry" Gilbert put his hands forward, moving away a little bit from Lovino and his teeth that were beginning to scar each other trying not to make a spectacle and keep his hands to himself.
"I don't give a fuck about your shitty excuses, now get your filthy ass away from my fucking landing!" He roared, and with his arm outstretched as well as his index finger, pointed to the German in front of him.
"Hey! I wanted to apologize to your brother, and then I'm hungry and-"
"I don't give a shit what you have to do or don't have to do, I don't care if you're hungry. Use your fucking money to buy yourself some food. Besides, why would you want to apologize to my brother?" Lovino's question was legitimate. But Gilbert didn't know if he should have answered it.
"Yeah Gil, it's true. Why must you apologize?" Feliciano stood up, freeing himself from Ludwig's arm and approaching him at some quick but hesitant paces, looking curiously into the crimson eyes of the other, who blushed and shook his head as a symbol of denial.
"Nothing, Feli. I'll tell you about it later."
"And I'm afraid not. Get the fuck out!" He did not wait for an answer, and slammed the door in Gilbert's face, who promptly put his hands on the nose that was about to hit the huge cherry wood door, while the steel knob stuck into his right kidney.
"You are a horrible person! How dare you treat me like this? How fucking dare you! I am the most awesome of all of you and-"
"I don't give a shit! I won't give respect to people who come into my shop drunk and steal my flowers and them harass me by jumping on me!"
"But I didn't steal your flowers, just a rose! And then I put it back!"
"Sure, and I had to throw it away because it was as dry as your hair."
"But wait!" He ran his hand through his hair, curling his nose, and noticing that Lovino was right about the dryness of his hair, he shrugged it off wondering how he could tell just by looking at it and not even touching it.
"I bet you've been such a jerk, you've even touched your hair" Gilbert could imagine Lovino with his arms folded with a slight pout on his face, even though he had a door and a wall separating him and even though he had known him for less than 10 minutes.
"Hey! You can't predict my awesome moves, schön brünett" and Lovino in turn could see Gilbert laughing like a dope, feeling realized for embarrassing him slightly. He let out a giggle, which he immediately suffocated, sulking and arching his eyebrows as a symbol of contempt. That filthy bastard! It was lucky he couldn't see it at that moment.
Gilbert slipped with his back to the door, resting his butt on the cold marble floors of the landing and bringing his knees to his chest, resting his chin.
"Come on, now that I've made you laugh, can you let me in?" He said, whimpering and weakly knocking.
"In your dreams! And then y-you didn't make me laugh at all! Get off the landing!"
"No! I'm staying here."
"All right, Casper! Enjoy smelling my good food while you bite your nails so you don't starve to death!" And after Lovino fired the last shot, Gilbert realized he'd lost that little battle.
He puffed bored, and banged his head lightly on the door. He had taken this squabble very seriously, and he thought he could win it with different weapons: he thought he was using his little jokes, his weapons of seduction, which the Italian had broken in a thousandth of a second.
That brat even called him Casper! He was offended, and crossed his arms thinking about how he had been attributed such an un-awesome character, but with whom he apparently had the color of his skin in common.
Lovino cleared his throat and adjusted the collar of his turtleneck sweater, but even though it was hot he didn't want to look sloppy, and the white turtleneck was an elegant alternative to a stupid tomato red sweater with some weird print.
"Lovino! But didn't you get Gilbert to come? Poor guy! He'll starve to death!" Feliciano said, showing real concern.
"Are you serious? You can't starve to death without eating for a day!" In response, the young Italian received a dizziness of eyes and a facepalm from his brother who was quite annoyed and annoyed.
Lovino did not sit down at the table, but walked towards the kitchen at a fast pace and swayed his hips slightly, while making noise with his slippers.
"But Lovino! Aren't you eating?"
"You two eat, I'm not hungry," he answered without even turning around, grabbing the bowl, some flour, eggs, yeast, butter, sugar and a ladle.
He thought that by cooking he would have relieved some of the stress and wouldn't have to listen to the two lovebirds at the table eating spaghetti from the same plate, pecking at one in common that would lead them to kiss each other with their mouths dirty with sauce, just like in that dog movie Feliciano was obsessed with.
He buttered the pan carefully, then vigorously stirred the dough into the bowl and added when necessary, a little fresh milk from his neighbor's cow.
Yes. Cooking had definitely relaxed him, even if he couldn't get rid of the thought of the German who was lying outside raising his landing and rubbing his filthy body against his beautiful and clean door.
He felt like he was disgracing a family tradition. It was sacred in Italy for all guests to leave the houses they had eaten in, on a full stomach. It was good manners on the part of the guests so eat everything and behave well.
Of course, that bastard had certainly behaved badly, but Lovino felt the need to honor his grandfather who would probably have given him a slap if he had refused to feed the most sordid and disgusting of thieves.
Overthinking he puffed a little bit, then he poured the impact inside the baking pan, adding a few grams of cocoa and putting the cake in the oven already previously heated properly.
He turned around, looking at the shelves of the old kitchen, noting that Feliciano had already brought everything to the table except his lasagna plate. He had put it to heat up in the gas stove to prevent it from getting cold in case he took too long to argue with the German.
Lovino shook his head, and from his wrinkled lips a satisfied and slightly cheerful puff arose. He collected the freshly heated lasagna in a small aluminum baking tray, emitting a deep sigh.
"Grandpa, you bastard! You're gonna have to see my pride to honor a fucking tradition!" He growled, curling his nose and tapping his foot on the ground.
With the hot pan in his hands burning his fingers slightly, he opened the kitchen door and went into the living room.
He saw Feliciano wipe Ludwig's face with a slick of oil, and after pulling out his tongue expressing all his disgust, he opened the door of the house.
"Ouch! Hey you! You hurt my awesome ass!" The German spat, pinching his butt in the wounded area.
"Ohhh, sorry" he raised his hands waving them, opening his mouth and gouging out his eyes to make fun of the pale German who magnified what would probably be pain comparable to a scratch with paper.
"I brought you some food."
"Oh, you finally got caught up in these, huh? Well, I don't blame you." He slid his finger over his shirt where he could see his abs, then winked ironically at the Italian who was a mixture between being of pissed off and being just embarrassed.
"No, Bastard! I just didn't want to see you starve to death on my fucking landing," he stretched out his lasagna pan, "and then, I guess you got tired of biting your nails."
"Um, yeah enough. Well, thank you very much!" He ventured onto the baking tray, sinking his fork through each still steaming layer of lasagna, admiring the mozzarella that overflowed and still melted.
"Fuck, eat decently!" He yelled, leaning forward, "Here, use this to clean up when you soil my fucking landing."
Gilbert picked up the cloth that Lovino aggressively threw at him with a nice grip. "Boy, you're really obsessed with this landing!"
"Yes, and clean it up or I'll make you lick the dirt with your tongue."
"You wouldn't."
"Fuck yeah!"
"You'd find yourself on the dirty landing of my awesome but still German drool," he gave a smile that he hoped would be taken as a sign of challenge.
"No, well... I mean... Fuck you!" There, he didn't get a new challenge. Just a "fuck you" and a door slammed back in his face that almost knocked over the lasagna pan.
"Aw, Lovi! Did you bring Gilbert food? That's so sweet!"
"Sweet my ass! I just did it so I wouldn't disgrace grandpa's tradition, that's all. He could have starved to death for me!" He answered, glancing at the door and raising his voice, hoping that Gilbert outside the door could hear what had just been said.
"I baked a cake, wait for it," he ran into the kitchen. More than half an hour had passed and he was afraid that the cake had burned, since it had not been examined under his examining eye for the duration of the baking, allowing Lovino to make sure that the cake did not show any signs of burning or even raw parts.
He put on his kitchen gloves, opened the oven with a quick movement, chased away the smoke that was coming out of the hellish thing and pulled out the cake.
He had noticed that the cocoa had mixed well, perhaps better than he had thought, which gave the cake a hazelnut color.
He smiled contentedly, placing the cake at the table and wiping his head with a handkerchief to remove the beads of sweat that copiously slipped on his forehead.
"Oh, how thoughtful Lovi! It's beautiful and I'm sure it'll be delicious."
"Of course it will be!" He answered in a flash. What was your brother implying? That it wasn't good?
"Thank you for the thought, Lovino."
"Shut up and eat bastard! As I said before, I cooked it for my brother and I don't need your thanks!" He put his arms outstretched, giving the blond a look that should have been threatening and frightening.
Lovino took a knife carefully cutting a generous slice of cake, placing the slice on a glass plate and then covering it with a red and white checkered napkin.
"Lovi, aren't you eating?"
He totally ignored his brother's question and abruptly opened the apartment door again. Surprisingly, no one was hurt.
"HAHA! I knew you'd reopen, so I moved. God, I'm so smart!" He pointed his finger gloriously at Lovino, while he had his other hand down and squeezed in a fist.
The grit with which the German had faced what Lovino was aware was a shitty behavior, amazed him. His face was bright, and he didn't seem at all intimidated by it.
"Shut up, or I'll eat the slice of cake I brought you!" He thundered, clutching his eyelids and handing the plate to Gilbert, tearing the now empty and well-cleaned lasagna pan from the ground.
"It was good. You could have done better too," he joked.
"Sure, right!" The Italian said, rolling his eyes.
When he saw Gilbert sit down and ravenously bite into the slice of cake, chewing it in a way he would have thought rude and childish, he felt better even though he struggled to hold back his nascent smile blossomed on his face like a flower in spring, not going unnoticed by the platinum-haired man who returned the smile by raising only the right corner of his mouth, sneering.
"What the fuck are you laughing at?" He wiped out the shy smile, embarrassed, and was surprised when Gilbert handed him the rest of the cake.
"Why don't we eat it together?"
"Tsk, as if I had nothing else!"
"But my lips touched it, so this will never be as good as the one you have in the kitchen now" oh yes. He was definitely too good at embarrassing the Italian.
"Look, fuck you!" He slammed the door for the third time in a day, and thought that the florist's would not be the only one to break after a while.
Gilbert blinked quickly, pouting his mouth full of food. Well, it hadn't been a bad day. Of course, he hadn't seen Feliciano or eaten in comfort, and he hadn't even received the epic reception he'd expected, but this might have been better.
He had had a funny squabble with his brother, whose name he didn't even know, but he was sure that his green eyes and olive skin would be hard to forget, as well as his spicy temper.
He thought that perhaps, in the end, his weapons of seduction had not totally failed.