~Verde~

Sight is seeing with the eyes, vision is seeing with the mind

-Orrin Woodward

Author's Notice: The death of a loved one can cause many things such as vomiting, loss of appetite, and a constant feeling of hopelessness. Especially when the loved one is someone that you were not expecting to die. Often, these symptoms may last from anywhere to a few weeks to a few years. It generally depends on the person. However, we must all remember that others care about us and to keep the emotions of the tragedy bottled up is unhealthy. Always try to share memories you shared with the person. Write about your life with that person, do anything that helps you remember them because I promise you it will help. If you don't want to share with somebody you know or with the entire web, feel free to talk to me, I'll listen. I understand the feeling of utter hopelessness. The air seems to get sucked out of you as you come to the slow realization that they are gone. Tears pour and you can't stop them, everything is on fire, there's constant pain. You get angry, you get sad, emotions fly everywhere. Sometimes you blame God, sometimes you blame them or even yourself. That is okay, it happens to even the strongest. Always feel free to talk to me, I'll listen. You shouldn't have to be alone. Death hurts and it hurts worse when you can't talk to anyone.

Lovino bit his lip, rolling over and staring at the bin in the corner. His stomach growled, demanding food after he had tossed all of his into the porcelain bowl that seemed to taunt him more and more often these days. The fact that this was becoming a reoccurring issue greatly concerned him. The last thing that he wanted was to be left in the depressing state that he was currently in where he could hardly eat without feeling his stomach twist and turn in discomfort.
He pulled at his hair and in irritation, disgruntled and exhausted. His eyes lazily wandered along the crème colored walls, tracing the contours of everything as they moved slowly. Then, they stopped and Lovino's heart cracked and squeezed in his chest. A tear slowly trickled down his reddened cheek as his hazel eyes glanced at the picture where a certain man with eyes bluer than the skies smiled as he kissed his cheek while his eyes widened and his eyebrows slanted down in irritation. Though, the slight grin on his face gave away that he was not as irritated.
In fact, it was the opposite. Lovino was quite content and despite not expecting the action, the memory itself embedded itself into the corners on his mind. It was a blissful evening when he thought of it.

The way he was held and how he had leaned against him. He thought of the way that he smiled ever so slightly as those eyes gazed at him with a light and admiration that he struggled to adjust to. He thought of the way that their lips connected as the song played and the way he gently swayed to the music that played peacefully in the background.

Yet, the more he thought of such a good evening, the more his heart cracked and lungs crushed. His breath left him and suddenly, Lovino was once again the small figure of a man that he had been the evening that his sky of reds and oranges that glittered with passion received the touch of the Angel of Death who tainted his beautiful skies black and blue.
Lovino rolled over once more, not wanting to look at the wall anymore in fear of what it would do to him. Yet, it was too late and Lovino quickly stood up. Fast steps and a slammed bathroom door as his throat burned for the second time that day.

Days like this, Lovino wondered what he was doing and he also wondered if Alfred was weeping down on him from heaven as he watched.

Antonio listened to the soft crunching of the leaves beneath his feet and he sighed a small, exhausted sigh. A recent painting was clutched in his hands, the frame tapping the ground and scraping with an awful scratching noise. What did it matter? Another day, more paintings rejected when he used them in hopes of getting someone beyond the borders of the places he had known all of his life.

The problem was that people didn't go through with their promises often times. He would have someone commission his work only to have the person, time after time, reject the piece when he finished it for the most ridiculous of reasons. Either it took too long, it wasn't what they had imagined, or they found someone else and had not told him. Time after time it frustrated Antonio, leaving his hopes dragging behind him. Obviously, he took longer with his work, but it infuriated him when things like this happened. Even if it was only something that occurred 2/5 times, it was enough that it took money out of his pocket that he could not earn back.

It frustrated him, left his mind spinning and screaming while his motivation died down and the voice that once loudly slammed against his skull demanding for a greater something began to fade and tap instead.

He was the definition of starving artist. Dear God. If it hadn't been for the fact his family owned the house he lived in, Antonio would have been starving in an apartment in the center of a much too complicated city that would surely end up killing him in the end.

He missed his mother and oh, how he wished he could see his brother more than the short visits once a year that never lasted and was overall disappointing because the two knew absolutely nothing about the other anymore. João was somewhere else working on his novels and not as close with Antonio as he used to be.

The fact was, he could possibly try and visit João in Portugal if it weren't for the fact that he seemed to get the short end of the stick when it came to the people who commissioned him.

As he kept dragging his painting along, his stomach growled and he sighed in defeat. He checked his pocket; he had enough for something on the way. Pulling out his phone, Antonio drew one finger lazily over the screen and put an earbud in.

"Nearby fast food."

His phone read the results to him and Antonio decided to stop by a cheap pizza place and order one of those pizzas for one. He gave his answer and his phone began to pull up directions for him. Modern technology was a blessing, he would admit that. He couldn't imagine not being able to use his device for things. How many buses would he miss? How little would he know about the world?

God only knew.

Pulling out his white cane hesitantly, he began to walk to where his phone directed him. Another good thing about having a device that told him things when he needed was that he got a bit more freedom and was able to think about other things.

For example, the fact that he was frustrated.

This painting had been a good one too. Two people embracing in a canvas of dark blues. From the good feeling of the textures to how long he had worked on it—it all made him feel good despite his inability to actually see what he had created.

It was quite the blow to his pride when he found the person had not liked it and refused to pay for it. Antonio had not gotten the chance to open his mouth and argue on how it wasted his time and money, but the door shut on him and he couldn't do anything then without it seeming extreme.

The directions his phone gave him registered and he followed them. It wasn't a place that was very far actually. If it was any good, perhaps he would consider coming around to the place every once in a while when he was out of class.

Leaves crunched beneath his feet, becoming music to him. Everything seemed all the more relaxing and Antonio adored it. It was quite wonderful and the walk through the cool air relaxed his thoughts from the fiery flames that licked outward which he had been consumed in before.

But still, he didn't enjoy having to use his white cane more than he normally did in a day. It was quite uncomfortable for him.

"You have arrived at your destination," his phone chimed, bringing Antonio back to reality and all that it possessed.

The smell was familiar and it startled him for a fleeting second. He had never been to this particular part of town, so he wasn't sure why this smell seemed oddly familiar. Pushing the door open, Antonio walked inside and sighed as his heart began to race.

Chances were, this place had no braille menus. This meant that another flustering episode of "could you repeat the menu for the seventh time" was up and Antonio was not looking forward to it.

"Welcome—what the hell are you doing here?"

"Lovino! Be nice to the customers!"

Antonio's eyebrows furrowed and his face filled with confusion before he realized that not only was the smell familiar, but the voice as well.

He laughed brightly as he walked inside a bit more, "Stranger from the other day?"

"No, it's Barney," he responded snappily.

He ran his hands along the railing before tapping his white cane along the tile floor, his mind attempting to memorize the place so that he would not have to use his cane again, "What a coincidence to bump into you again. I just came to get some pizza."

"Really now! I thought you were here to sell me Girl Scout Cookies," he teased before rolling his eyes at his manager who was yelling at him to quit chit chatting and to actually work.

Antonio shook his head and snapped his fingers, "Sadly, I forgot all of my Girl Scout Cookies at home," he gave a cheesy grin before standing up straight, "Anyway, could you please tell me what's on the menu? I'm a bit hungry."

With a small, nonchalant nod, Lovino glanced up at their menu and read everything off in a monotone voice, "Alright, well, there's pepperoni, cheese—all that cardboard crap, you know?"

"Lovino!"

Lovino did not seem at all concerned and kept lazily reading things off and giving the prices with them. It took him a bit, but he read down all of the menu—and he read it again when Antonio asked. He didn't complain. That would be a dick move considering the situation the man was in.

It took a few repeats on certain things and questions on others before Antonio finally ordered a small Hawaiin Pizza (with a bit of screeching on Lovino's side). He found it amusing. He didn't understand the grand debate over pineapple on pizza, but he found it hilarious when people argued over it. He found it hilarious that this guy was working in a cheap pizza place and was screeching over pineapple on pizza.

Antonio stood where he was after he paid for his "meal". He cleared his throat, "Lovino's your name, right? At least, that's what I heard your manager over there screaming."

"Mhm. I think you called out something like Antonio to me when I left?"

"Yup! That's my name. Also, I'm really sorry about the other—"

Lovino scoffed, "If you apologize one more time, I'm hitting you over the head. Don't get your panties in a twist, nerd. It was an accident and for the record, I made you squish a perfectly good cupcake."

He gave a nervous laugh as he rubbed his shoulder, "I'm sorry—" He didn't manage to finish what he started to say before something small whacked him in the face, followed by unapologetic laughter.

"I told you not to apologize again, dummy," Lovino got up once the bell rang from the oven. He walked over, watching Antonio rub his face and attempt to figure out what had hit him in the face for a moment. He pulled the pizza it, putting it in a small box and scrunching his nose up as he walked back, exiting the register so that he could place it directly in Antonio's hands, "Here's your cardboard cancer with another reason I have lost faith in the United States tossed on top."

Antonio smiled when the pizza was placed in his hands and as he caught a whiff of the small treat, "Thank you, even if you died a bit on the inside while making this."

Lovino snorted, "A little?"

Antonio chuckled, finding Lovino's attitude rather interesting. His constant use of childish insults and words that fell out without hesitation made Antonio laugh and fill with a bit of joy, which was a really good thing for him considering the frustration of finishing up his last year of school as well as the constant terror of managing to provide himself food.

Taking a bite of the pizza, he slid his painting to the side and that was when Lovino captured a glance of it.

"Jesus," he muttered as he saw the painting for the first time, wondering how he had not seen the bulky thing, "Did you paint that?"

Antonio turned his head, putting his pizza down, confused for a moment before realizing what Lovino was referring to, "Oh! Yes! I'm a painter and visual arts student. I was delivering a commission today since I finished work and classes, but the person didn't like it, so no money for Toni today."

Lovino's eyebrows furrowed in confusion and irritation. He didn't comprehend the ability for anyone to look at a piece such as the one he was currently gawking at and not want to spend hundreds on it. It was gorgeous. Lovino was no artist, but he knew a masterpiece when he saw it.

This painting was monochrome blue, filled with wonderful swirls and shaded beautifully. It was quite texturized as well, making it come to life and seem to dance out to him. How had someone rejected the painting? He suddenly began to contemplate over things and wondered who the blind truly were when it came to things such as this.

He shook his head in disbelief, eyes wide, "What a dick. Must be compensating for something."

Antonio smiled, chortles bubbling their way up but clashing with the violent choking of his bite of pizza. He was so used to Gilbert being the one who spoke that way and it charmed him greatly. Even then, Lovino's humor and vulgarity contrasted greatly with that of Gilbert.

"Would you like to get coffee sometime?"