~Vedere Rosso~

I've never seen anyone drink themselves smart, successful or happy - most of them are broke, bitter and alone.

-Unknown

It was one of those days.

It was one of those miserable days where Antonio had no energy at all. In fact, all that he really wanted to was to lay down and forget that the world existed. He wanted to sit in his room that felt like the air was heavier than anything else and forget it all. It was dense, and he felt drowsy. Everything around him felt so grey and slow and he himself hardly had the energy to move his hand up to turn off his alarm. He was out of it and the feeling was awful.

It was almost as if somebody grabbed a plastic bag and had it tightly around his face blocking off oxygen. He was suffocating and the harder that he tried to release himself from the torture, the worse the suffocation got. He was a small being at the bottom of an ocean. Water poured into his lungs and made everything heavy. He was drowning in the salty water and being crushed by the pressure. It was unbearable.

Without a single hesitation, he began to weep, not sure for the reason. Things were fine for him! He had a friend who was his muse, he was on track to accomplishing his dream from when he was young, and his friends whom he had missed would be visiting.

If anything, he believed himself to be pathetic and greedy. Why did he have to act like this? Was it for attention? What purpose did waking up like this randomly do for him? It did not benefit him in the slightest, instead it only caused him more and more calamity in his life. It was despicable and unfair.

With the faintest laugh, Antonio cursed his own existence and his choices. What if he had chosen to neglect his chances when he was younger? What if he had chosen to listen to his father the first time that he had told him that becoming an artist was a silly dream?

Would he still have his family?

Would his mother embrace him and tell him that she love him?

Would his brother still speak to him?

Antonio didn't know, but he still wondered just what his life would have been like if he had listened that day all of those years ago. If only he had listened; if only he had realized.

But he didn't.

And his family was gone.

Antonio accepted that a long time ago. He chose his path that day, and now he would have to live with the consequences that came with it. He chose art, wasn't that what he wanted?

So why was it that he woke up feeling like this still, years later?

Dragging himself out of his bed, he grudgingly made his way over to his bathroom to get ready for the day. If he stayed in bed all day and avoided work, his friends would be able to tell right away that something was wrong and then they would accuse him of needing help when he knew that he didn't need help at all. Then they would call his bosses and everyone would pity him and try to help him when he knew that he was fine.

Antonio didn't want help, he just wanted to prove that he was strong enough to get through these things. He wasn't weak and being blind would not limit him of his future that he had been working hard for since the day he first put a pencil on paper to draw.

He managed to get ready, but his heart was completely out of motivation for normally vibrant eyes were filled with nothing but a glazed look and misery. Yet, he managed to mask it. He got dressed, putting on a dress shirt and pants, ate something because he knew that if he didn't eat, he would regret it, and started walking to work, pushing the thoughts aside for he knew that he needed to focus on where he was walking rather than his own self-loathing.

The world went on, swirls of golden joy embracing everyone while a grey cloud of despair clung to him, pleading for his attention. The worst part was that he gladly obliged.

Things did not heal from there, no, they only seemed to get worse. Antonio desperately tried to reach out for the slightest form of joy that he could find, but only grew weary and distanced himself further from the happiness that had seemed to be at his fingertips only moments before. Thus, he sat in the library and mindlessly ran his fingers along the braille cover of the book that he held. He sighed silently and wondered if he really was doing anything for himself at all.

Even this place that he worked at was a library for the disabled that his parents had helped build back when the accident had happened. It seemed like everything in his life was set up.

What about college? You got into that without your parents' help!

He shook his head, pushing his positive thoughts away. They had accepted him because he was blind and it made them look good. Or at least, that is what he told himself time after time. Diversity always seemed to be something that looked good. A blind immigrant, how amazing! Did he really do anything for himself? Was he even worth a second glance?

As he sat there, he wondered what he was going to do after college. Obviously, he wanted to be a painter, but he needed something to support him while he was creating. While he had no doubt he'd at least do decently at making money, just in case, in case things didn't go the way that he wanted, he needed something else.

But that was where the problems began. What would he do? He couldn't work on a computer, he couldn't see! He couldn't work as a cook, he'd surely cut his hand or do something else to injure himself. He'd break his leg because he missed something, he would do something and then he would be put into a nursing home because he had no family and all of his friends were far away.

Suddenly, Antonio found himself smiling for a fleeting moment because he felt something besides the limbo feeling that he was cursed to feel nonstop. Although he would have prefered to think about happy things, he at least felt something and that was good enough for him.

"Wow, he frowns. Here I thought you were perfect," a voice called out. Antonio tilted his head up weakly and blinked in confusion.

Lovino had been standing there for a few moments actually, trying to make conversation and not sure how. As crass as it made him seem, he was glad Antonio was blind so that he could appear more confident when having to talk to him.

The thing was, he wasn't sure how to approach the man. This was the first time in a long time that he found someone interesting enough to talk to. It was difficult for him to socialize well and not make a fool of himself. The last thing that he wanted was to say something stupid and ruin his pride and any chances of keeping Antonio as a friend. Sure, the man had a bit too much wine when he had him over, but as long as he didn't take it far - things would be okay, right?

Of course, Antonio did not know this and simply thought that Lovino had found him which was interesting. He forced a small smile, "You think I'm perfect, do you?"

Scoffing, Lovino folded his arms and turned away, "I did, past tense."

Antonio chuckled lightly, "Aw, that's a shame. So what brings you here?"

Lovino folded his arms and looked to the side for a moment, "I heard that you worked here and I wanted to know if you wanted to just hang out again. Last time wasn't really your day, I'm guessing, and I'd like to get to know you better."

"I'd love to," Antonio smiled a genuine smile, though faint. In the noise of the day and the horrors that he dealt with, just having someone want to be around him made things a slightly better, "But not today. I'm having a couple of old friends over for a night together."

Lovino raised his brow, curiously, "Oh? I haven't ever seen you with friends. Then again, I don't see you much so obviously I don't know everything about you or about these friends of yours."

Antonio laughed forcefully, he was sure that the other could detect it well, "Well, they're a lot more successful and living better lives. I'm just a blind artist. We've been through a lot together. Drunk nights, mistakes, hurt, comfort, all of it. Chances are tomorrow I'm going to have a hangover from whatever we do tonight."

The temperature in the room seemed to drop. Lovino felt his heart drop to his stomach while a bitter taste went to his mouth. Of course, Antonio didn't see the way that his eyes seemed to go dull and how he hugged himself nervously, his lips frowning. His suspicions were confirmed and now that he got a better look at Antonio, he saw that the man wasn't everything he had thought him to be. His hair was messy, bags under his eyes, and pale skin. He looked awful.

Was he honestly expecting to drink with his buddies when he looked like he could barely stand on his own two feet? It disappointed him and Lovino found himself turning away fully from Antonio, suddenly not wanting to be around him. He had seen what alcohol did, and he didn't like it. Still, he needed a friend. As much as he wanted to deny it, he wanted a friend so badly that it hurt him to think about not having one. Maybe he was simply joking and they really didn't get drunk. People exaggerated a lot. It wasn't like Antonio was getting drunk every day, right?

Antonio, who had been sitting there with no response, grew concerned, "Lovino Are you still there?"

Lovino glanced up and nodded, quickly realizing his mistake and clearing his throat, but it cracked anyway, "Yeah I' still here."

Antonio did not detect anything out of the ordinary. In his mind, he was having a normal conversation with his friend. It might have had something to do with the fact that he didn't have the best mindset at the moment, or it could have just been the fact that he couldn't see the facial expression on Lovino's face that cried out horror, disapproval and above all, the want to run as far away as possible from this drunk. Yet, at the same time, he was afraid of leaving and being left all alone. He didn't catch onto the way that his voice cracked in discomfort or the steps that he was taking back. Nothing. For once, Antonio was truly blind.

"I don't drink much myself, be due to the fact that I'm still underage," Lovino shrugged lightly, his hands in his pockets.

Antonio nodded, leaning on the table, a little more relaxed and calm (whether that be a good or bad thing was yet to be determined) versus Lovino who seemed tense and almost afraid. His mind was still a blizzard for the most part, but he somewhat trusted Antonio so that relaxed him a bit. Still, it wasn't by much at all.

As for Antonio, his mind was still empty of all emotion and he was plastering smiles and emotions to not upset Lovino. Most of his senses had left him already, "Understandable. Maybe once you are legally allowed to drink, we can go out and get a few of them, si?"

It was at that moment, that Lovino's voice cracked and his mind went blank in terror. He took a couple of stumbled steps back. No matter how much of a friend Antonio was, he would not become an alcoholic with him.

It was at this moment, that Antonio also finally recognized just how uncomfortable Lovino seemed to be. He finally caught the voice crack, the stumbled steps, and could almost taste the tension on his lips. Realization hit him hard causing the air to leave his lungs and his ribs to crush in anxiety at the thought of scaring the only friend that he had away with his obsessive behavior with alcohol. He felt guilty for letting the hints fly over his head and it turned his legs limp making grateful to be sitting in a chair at the moment.

Lovino didn't want to be around him and that hit him harder than anything else had hit him in years. It was a feeling like the world was slowly collapsing, dust, glass, ashes - all headed to his sightless eyes and piercing his skin. Finally realizing what was going on, he was filled with immeasurable shame. Quickly, he tried to come up with some excuse to make things less awkward for them all. Yet, he came up with nothing at all. He had no way to escape this.

"We don't have to go drinking. Euh, we could go do something else," he murmured, attempting to fix the damage that he had done. Sadly, Antonio sent the crack too far and now he was walking along a tightrope of decisions that would either keep things the way that they were, or cause everything to crumble to the ground. He hit the wall and that was that.

Lovino looked away and gave slight shrug, "It's whatever. Euh, I have to get going, turtle dork. Just send me your address and I'll head over to your place tomorrow after class. It's whatever, no biggie."

It didn't take a genius to know that Lovino was trying to avoid him at the moment to avoid the thought of having an alcoholic as a friend. Whatever the reason behind it was, he didn't know. Nor was he sure that he wanted to know. He was sure of one thing, however. He had managed to feel an emotion.

Unfortunately, that emotion was guilt.

Antonio still had not managed to snap back into his normal cheery personality by the time that Francis and Gilbert had arrived. In fact, some might say that he was much worse at this point because the only emotion he carried was guilt.

He didn't want his friends around and that was saying a lot as he hardly saw them at all anymore. Antonio was dreading the thought of seeing his friends, so when the knock at the door came, his entire mind seemed to shut down emotionally.

Plastering another smile on his face, he answered the door only to be greeted by a warm embrace and the familiar scent of roses that could belong to only one person: Francis.

"Francis! It's great to see you again," he exclaimed.

It was at that moment, that Gilbert walked in. Now Gilbert, being the troll he is, smirked and gave Antonio a hard slap on the back, "But you can't."

Antonio scowled for a moment and turned towards the sound of his voice sticking his tongue out, "You know what? I hope you choke on some panini you albino dickhead."

Francis sighed and let go of Antonio, "Play nice, girls."

Gilbert gave puppy dog eyes and pointed limply at Antonio, "He started it!"

Antonio shook his head and shoved both of his weird friends aside. While he was still feeling pretty empty besides guilt, he tried to remain positive for his friends. The last thing that he wanted was for either of them to feel bad for him and try to fix things when there was nothing to fix in the first place.

Antonio started making his way across the room, "Alright, enough acting like fools. What are we doing today?"

Francis gave a slight pout and folded his arms, "I was under the impression that we would be doing the same as we always do, Antoine."

Gilbert pulled out a couple of bottles of beer, the clinking noise reaching Antonio's ears, "Exactly. That's why I brought this beer and Francey-pants bought some wine. What were you thinking of doing, Toni?"

Antonio shrugged, not really in the mood to drink, not because of what Lovino said, but because he wasn't feeling in the mood for it at the moment. It was stupid of him not to consider Lovino, yes, but that was Antonio, "No se, I just was thinking we could sit down and watch a movie or something. I'm not in the mood for drinking today."

Francis and Gilbert looked at each other in slight concern. It would have taken a complete idiot to spend as many years as they had around Antonio and not notice what he was really thinking. Watch a movie? The man only owned three movies because all he could do was listen to them! They put down the alcohol and Francis was the first to go up to Antonio, a soft smile on his face.

They were aware of what Antonio believed. They knew that he thought that they would attempt to send him to a nursing home or to get help. While both wanted Antonio to talk to someone about how he was feeling, they didn't pry and simply sat with him during these things.

Francis put a hand on Antonio's shoulder gently, knowing that he didn't know that they were aware, "That sounds nice. Come on, Gilbert. Let's watch Butterfly Tongue! Antoine loves that movie."

Gilbert nodded, going up to the shelf and picking out the familiar movie that Antonio indeed put on every time that he was like this when they were over. That was exactly what they did.

As much as Antonio liked to believe that he was the one with the upper hand in these things, Gilbert and Francis knew him well. With this knowledge, came the knowledge that Antonio sometimes needed nothing more than silence and the sounds of a movie to relax him. While Gilbert remained concerned that Antonio might try something rash and Francis worried that he might be hurting those around him as well, both sat there beside him and watched a simple movie about fascism. Because sometimes, a doctor was too much and asking him to drink was too stupid. Sometimes, watching a movie about a boy and his teacher was all that was needed.

And sometimes—that was just as they all liked it.

"You know we love you, Antonio?"

"Of course."

"Good."

Some things didn't need much. All any of them needed was the support of each other. That's what friends did. They loved you enough to just sit with you and watch Butterfly Tongue.

By the end of the night, Antonio had fallen asleep and Francis covered him with a blanket. As adorable as Antonio looked when he slept, he snored like a dying cow. Gilbert and Francis liked it though, because it was Antonio. Francis hummed softly while Gilbert went to the DVD player and removed the movie.

As soon as the movie was put away, he spoke, "Franny, I know you hate last-minute things, but he needs us here."

Francis, who had still been humming, sighed softly and looked up at Gilbert, "I don't know what to do anymore, Gilbert. These episodes seem to happen more and more. You know I would gladly stay here to watch over him, but this is Antonio. The man refuses to have anyone watch over him; he's a stubborn mule."

Gilbert nodded in agreement and looked at their friend, "I know he is. But Francis, look at him. You know just as well as I do that he isn't doing well. Now I feel like a jerk for making that joke earlier. I don't know if he's in one of his emotionless states or extremely sensitive ones. Francis, Antonio only has us. Most people don't give the man a chance when they figure out he's a little more hesitant than everyone else! It's so stupid and considering how he refuses to make friends, let alone flirt, I think we are all he has."

Francis sighed and nodded as he put a hand gingerly to Antonio's forehead. He moved slightly and murmured something in his sleep causing Francis to give a fleeting smile, "I am too, Gilbert," he pushed his hair back and buried his face in the other, "And you're right, he needs us. I'll call Joan. I won't force Antonio to do anything, but I at least want to be here for a little bit and make sure he's okay. Even if he hasn't done anything rash, if we just leave, it could get there. Especially now that his brother has moved out."

Nodding in agreement, Gilbert walked over and sat next to Francis. Antonio looked relaxed which was more than they could have said for his appearance when they had first arrived. Gilbert nudged Francis and gave a half-smile, "Let's not frown. Antonio hates pity, you know that. We won't help him by saying 'Poor Toni', we help him by being by his side like today and understanding. He'll talk and ask for help when he's ready. Forcing him would be a dick move."

Francis looked at him with a glazed look in his deep blue eyes, "And if he is never ready?"

Gilbert put a hand on his friend's shoulder, "Then we stay by his side. I'm not saying to stay here forever. We have our lives and our own families. But yeah, if the guy decides he doesn't want to, we can't really do anything except for what we are already trying. You can't magically help those that don't wanna be helped. You can only try to show them the good side and some of them never see it. We're his friends, we should understand that more than anybody else."

Giving a short nod, Francis walked over to Antonio's closet and took out a couple of blankets—tossing one over to Gilbert with a smile. As Antonio's friends, they were a bad influence most of the time with their antics and drinking; but during moments such as these, they were the pinnacle of support for him.

Gilbert carried Antonio up to his bed, struggling at that, while Francis cleaned up downstairs. When Gilbert finally tiptoed downstairs, making sure not to speak loudly, they called their beloveds and described the situation. Sweet promises of love and gentle touches were whispered before the two hung up with aching hearts that longed for the embraces of their partners. Yet, upon remembering why they were where they were, the longing hurt less and was replaced with the bold and fiery determination to bring Antonio from the lowest levels the highest peaks.

As the crickets played their melodies and the skies painted wildflowers turned violet and blue, Gilbert fell asleep while Francis lay awake. He stared at the portrait that Antonio had painted of he and Gilbert on the wall. An ephemeral small grazed his lips and he closed his eyes with one last thought lingering in the depths of his heart.

Antonio, will you ever know how much we adore you?

When morning came, Antonio remained asleep; as well as Gilbert and Francis. Now, as much as the two were fantastic and observing Antonio's emotions, they failed when it came to his actions. In the midst of Butterfly Tongue, the movie that Antonio never left to take bathroom breaks from without pausing, Antonio excused himself to use the bathroom. This was so that he could take his phone out, turn on the voice command, and send a text to Lovino telling him his address for the next day.

Antonio, with all of his heart and white image that many adored, often forgot to check his phone and did not notice or ignored the messages from Lovino asking for a time before giving up and saying he would arrive at ten o'clock after his only class for the day. This was something that would end becoming quite the surprise for everyone.

Gilbert had been taking out the alcohol to organize it since Antonio did an awful job at making sure things stayed nice while Francis was starting breakfast. Halfway into warming up the coffee, a knock at the door was heard. Both men turned their heads up in confusion and assumed it to possibly be a few church leaders. Not that either minded really since Francis was a Catholic and Gilbert was in the Christian branch. Since it wasn't a big deal, Francis pushed his golden hair up to answer the door when the knock was heard again and followed by an interesting comment.

"Antonio, you useless turtle worshipper, open the door. Fuck man."

Francis blinked, tied his hair back, and quickly made his way across the room to open the door. It should have been the cold air that contrasted with the warm that made him take a step back, but instead it was the shivering honey-hued man there. The man who had been muttering curses in another language paused and stared up for a moment in brief confusion and annoyance. His lips were curved in a look of horror and he took a small step back. Both were thinking the exact same thing: who was this man? Azure eyes widening for a moment, Francis opened his mouth to speak, but the other beat him.

"I'm so sorry—this idiot must have given me the wrong address. Unless he has roommates—but he told me he lived alone. Wait, you must his friends he was talking about. Eugh, is this where Antonio Fernandez-Carriedo lives?"

The man was surprised. He stared at this person and he was confused as to how he and Antonio knew each other. Fellow artist perhaps? No, Antonio would have told them about him considering how competitive he was. Plus, this man didn't look like he was here to discuss contouring techniques.

Sleek clothing that embraced him and a rouge shirt that was sharp and mature in a way. He was dressed much too neatly. His hazel eyes burned into Francis almost as if they were judging him and his pink-tinted cheeks seemed to hold anger and sophistication. He almost felt as if he were in the presence of a serpent that enchanted him. He nodded and leaned on the doorframe, "Oui, and you are?"

His tone came off rude and demanding. He realized that all too late. Lovino scowled and scoffed, rolling his eyes, "Calm down, Pepé le Pew, I'm modeling for him," he snapped, "Where is he?"

Francis didn't move from his spot. This man was bold and bitter. Now he was truly questioning how he got along at all with the much more relaxed (at least in appearance and words) Antonio, "He is sleeping. He never told us that he had a model. What's your name?"

Lovino scrunched up his nose and took a step back, "Nothing important to you. I am simply his model for a painting. And does he have to give you a play-by-play of his life? From what I've heard, you're gone most of the time and come only to get him drunk so of course, he wouldn't have any time to tell you things," he spat in an accusing tone. His eyes were slits and he wrapped his scarf around his neck better. His gloved hand was lifted up and pointing at him in an accusing manner.

Raising his eyebrow, Francis put his hands in front of him with a softer look on his face, "Apologies. I must have come off as rude. Also, while we all enjoy a good drink or two, we don't always drink. Although, it would seem the most memorable of things have occurred during those times. You'll have to come back later since Antonio is still sleeping. Unless of course, you want to come inside and wait until he wakes up."

Lovino did not want to do that. He already disliked this man and the albino staring at him from afar wasn't any better. He shook his head and folded his arms. His cheeks turned red and his eyes went back to slits. It was one thing if Antonio had lived nearby where Lovino was, but he didn't. In fact, Antonio seemed to be living a very wealthy life based on his house and neighborhood. How was it that he was a broke college student, yet he could afford the luxuries of this home? He seemed to be living a pretty decent life versus Lovino who was living a pretty pathetic life in a crappy apartment that he was barely clinging to.

He opened his mouth to make a comment when he got a good look inside and he felt all color drain from his face. The entire counter was covered with bottle after bottle of wine, tequila, vodka, beer—anything and everything. He didn't see Gilbert so he assumed that every bottle was being inhaled by the two idiots. His eyebrows furrowed momentarily before he let out a small huff.

'Not drinking much, huh? '

He bit his lip and looked up at Francis with the same cold look he had been giving him this entire time. He took a couple of steps down before stopping at the last step and glaring up at the blonde pretty boy that seemed to mock him at the door, "Tell Toni that next time he wants his muse, friend, whatever- to come, to make sure he's actually awake and sober," he growled, not thinking twice about what he said other than a small twinge of regret that pierced his skin. He couldn't take it back though. He huffed once more, turning away and making his way off of the large property to go home.

'So much for a friend.'

Lovino felt stupid.

Yet, even as he walked through the cold, he didn't want to accept it. He wanted to pretend like Antonio wasn't as much of a storm as he appeared to be. Oh, how he wished for the clock to turn back to the day he first met Antonio and he met nothing but a ditzy, joyous, blind artist with a large heart. How he wished that he had never invited him over and seen the first hint nor visited him that day and listened as the second hint was dropped. Lovino wanted nothing more than to turn back the clock and to forget that Antonio had a problem and pretend like he had a normal friend that he wouldn't have to worry about missing when he left or trembling at when he grew drunk.

Maybe he was joking. Perhaps he really didn't drink as much as he made it seem that he did. Maybe he was just bad at holding his liquor and got drunk quickly. Maybe he was a funny drunk like he read about in books and saw in movies. Perhaps he wouldn't grab Lovino by his wrists, nor slam him against walls or spit on him. Perhaps he wouldn't feed on his fear and walk over him. Maybe Antonio was having a bad week or he just drank because his friends were coming.

Somehow, he couldn't accept that this was the truth about his friend. He came up with excuse after excuse, demanding for a different result and a happier route where Lovino wouldn't hide in a corner to avoid glass shards or lie to the doctor about his bruises and cuts.

He wouldn't have to say that the 'dog bit him' or that he 'fell off of his bike'. He wouldn't have to run under his bed or scrub the smell of alcohol from his clothes that had been used as rags. No, Antonio would laugh and talk about how funny the word 'platypus' was and pass out on the floor. Antonio would cry at books like Everything, Everything and The Fault in Our Stars. Lovino lied to himself because it was all he could do to prevent the hurt of realizing that his only friend was an alcoholic.

Maybe that wasn't his alcohol or maybe he was giving it to a bar. Lovino couldn't stop. He didn't want to accept it because that meant never failing to feel the fear of Antonio coming after him and terrorizing him.

Why did he want to defend him so much? He was just a painter! So what if he was blind, that didn't make him more likable than the next person. Why did he care so much about a stupid artist that was drinking himself worthless? He had his drunk friends to stick with, he didn't need Lovino to be around. He could paint one of his stupid friends.

As he made his way along, he stumbled on broken cement. He finally snapped out of his moment of self-confliction and realized that it wasn't Antonio that needed him to stay. Hugging himself, he sighed and looked away.

'It's just a drink, cucciolo. I promise not to drink much'

Apparently not, because here he was with a friend that he wasn't sure he knew anything about anymore. A million thoughts and a million memories raced through his mind and it felt like venom being injected into his skin.

'Lovino, why can't you be friendlier? You're only getting yourself into trouble at school'

He didn't know. Maybe if he had been friendlier then he wouldn't have had to have become friends with Antonio and watch as his friend started showing his true colors that reflected hues of grey and black that trapped him in a corner wondering if he should stay or if he should run. For the moment, he was running as far away as possible. If he had been friendlier, he wouldn't depend on Antonio at the moment so much for friendship because he was lonely. Eugh, he hated the fact that humans required contact with other humans to stay sane.

Lovino was lonely. Yet, this wasn't the simple feeling of being in a room by himself and having the capability to call a friend and ask him to come over. No, this was the type of loneliness that wrapped itself around him. It gnawed at his entire being and drove him mad. It laughed and mocked him with vile intentions. This type of loneliness whispered sweet nothings into his ears and sucked his energy away. It chuckled as it pressed kisses to his skin during the silent hours of the night in a reminder of the fact that he was alone in this town and that he had chosen a school that while good, was so distant from everything that he had ever known.

It was in that moment that he realized that he hated himself more than he could ever fathom for wanting to be around Antonio.

Antonio, the man who smiled at all of the colors that he would never again see. Antonio, who saw the vibrant autumn shades and breathed in hues of bright reds and purples. Antonio, who did not treat him as a toy. In fact, he was the first person to treat Lovino as an actual human being and not a broken plate. He took time to try and get to know him and for the first time since he lost Alfred, Lovino felt like he was ready to openly talk to someone about all of the sensitive things that he kept buried inside. Like how much he loved his brothers and how much he was afraid of fireworks.

He allowed himself to get ensnared in the trap of smiles and endearments. Now here he was, Lovino Vargas, breaking apart because the person he thought would finally relieve the empty feeling turned out to be someone to make it wider. Antonio was an alcoholic.

And that wasn't okay.

Call it overreacting, but it was a big deal to him. He'd try again another day. Some other day. He just wouldn't try today.

Lovino—so caught up with his own self-pity and his hatred towards Antonio, didn't even notice the fact that Francis had walked out and watched him as he walked, practically seeing the grey cloud over his head.

He watched him for a moment more before letting out a slight 'hm' and turning to make his way back inside. The cold was getting in any way.

Once Francis was back inside, Gilbert looked at him confused, "Who was that?"

Clicking his tongue, he walked over and leaned on the counter with his lips curving in confusion, "It seems that our friend has not told us about his new muse."

He stretched out the last word, making sure that Gilbert understood what a big deal this was. Having a model was one thing, but a muse? He wondered if the poor boy even knew what that meant, especially coming from someone as secluded and alone as Antonio was.

Gilbert's eyes widened ephemerally and he put down the bottle of wine that he had been holding, "A muse? Isn't that—something romantic?"

Francis shook his head, holding his hand up to explain, "Not at all. A muse is simply a reason to do what you do. An inspiration if you may. It could be a family member, a lover, a friend, anyone that gives you strength. Now, if I remember correctly, Antonio hasn't had a muse since his mother. I believe we have a bit of interrogating to do, Gilbert, my old friend."

Red eyes glinting with a sense of mischief and excitement, he chuckled as he put the last bottle away, "Does this mean...?"

Francis nodded, picking up one of the carnations that Antonio constantly kept around his house and smirked, "Indeed, it's time to bring back that little detective group we created when we were kids! Now, what did we call ourselves? The Bad-euh-the Bad Three? Bad Touch Three? No, that's not right. Hm. Whatever it was, we're bringing it back! Only this time, it's Antonio's turn to get investigated."

Gilbert clasped his hands and grinned wide, "This is going to be fun!"

Francis turned up to look at the stairs, making sure Antonio wasn't arriving yet. He put a finger gently to his own lips, "But we can't say a word to him. Act as oblivious as possible. The last thing we need is for him to get upset."

Gilbert nodded and gave a hard smack to his chest, "Someone as amazing as me would never let that happen. Now, we should probably wake him up. Knowing Toni, he won't get up at all unless we drag him—"

"You two give yourselves too much credit. Just because I enjoy sleep does not mean I have absolutely no self-control."

The two jumped slightly at the sound of Antonio's voice. They hadn't even heard him come down the stairs. This raised slight concern for their plan. Antonio yawned and made his way down the stairs. He looked much better than he had been the previous night, he was even smiling what appeared to be a genuine smile.

He walked over to where the coffee machine was and poured himself a cup of coffee, grabbing some sweet bread from his cake dish, and sitting down at the dining room table. Both friends watched him carefully for a moment, analyzing his behavior and deeming it worthy enough to be declared as cheery Antonio's normal attitude.

Antonio yawned once again and tilted his head a bit, "Are you not going to eat breakfast or did you already eat?"

Gilbert quickly shoved bread in his mouth from pure instinct while Francis sat down with Antonio, "I'll eat in just a moment. Euh, Antoine? There was a boy at the door earlier. He said that he knew you, but I wasn't sure. He had a sharp tongue."

Antonio choked on his bread and started coughing madly, eyes widening and his face filling with what appeared to be terror. This caused Francis to smirk slightly.

Antonio coughed more and when he finally stopped, he quickly covered his mouth with one hand, "He left?"

Francis smirked wider, Antonio was hiding something about this muse, "Mhm. Was he important? He didn't look like a buyer or an art critic."

Antonio quickly stood up and ran to the closet digging inside for shoes, "Mierda! You should have gotten me up! My muse just left and he seemed so cross yesterday. Do you know where he went?"

He stopped and did not have time to turn when Francis walked over and placed a hand on his shoulder. He didn't need to see to know that his friend bore that pompous grin that he got when something mildly interesting occurred in Lovino's life.

"Forgive me if I misheard, but did you say a muse?"

Antonio cleared his throat, "I think you misheard."

This time it was Gilbert who walked over and quickly tugged at Francis' sleeve, "Ooooh! Antonio has a muse!"

"Oh, shut up," he muttered, "You act like you found out I lost my virginity. He's a friend who has made things a lot easier to deal with in life in general. He's also very funny. You both are never around and for once I don't feel pitied by someone here. He didn't seem very happy yesterday either, so who knows how angry at the moment," he didn't stop there. No, Antonio continued to ramble in Spanish and soon both friends were confused and had no idea what he was saying minus the small curses here and there.

Normally Francis and Gilbert would have continued to tease Antonio. Their friendship was partially based on tough love. However, instead, Francis found his face filling with concern when he saw how Antonio looked. This wasn't a simple 'crap, I messed up' moment, this was an 'I'm about to lose someone important'look. Whether Antonio realized it or not, Francis was starting to pick up on the fact that he may have started clinging to his muse more than he should be.

Gilbert saw it too and frowned slightly. They hadn't seen him look so concerned about losing a friend in years. Turning to Francis, he cleared his throat, "Franny? Do you know where he went?"

He was filled with guilt. Francis should have made the man stay, but he let him go. Now Antonio looked concerned and they weren't sure what to think of that. They weren't used to something like this after years of seeing him so neutral when it came to socializing with other people. Sure, he smiled and was polite, but he never really built a connection.

What they had thought was Antonio being a little oblivious about a potential friendship was actually Antonio being concerned because he had made a friendship that he was afraid to lose.

Francis' bright blue eyes dimmed and he looked at Gilbert, "I'm so sorry. I only saw him walk down the street. Do you by chance have his number?"

With a short nod, he pulled out his phone, turning on voice command and attempting to call Lovino to see if he could come back. It hadn't been too long after all. When he didn't answer after the third attempt, Antonio sent his friends out to look for Lovino. He couldn't have possibly have gotten far in the short time gap that had occurred.

It seemed that somehow, he did, because Francis and Gilbert returned with no idea of where Lovino had gone at all. So, Antonio called again and again. Each time was met with the familiar sound of the voicemail with Lovino's voice saying 'I'm not here, call again later'. After about an hour, he gave up, got dressed, and Gilbert drove him to class. Francis stayed behind and decided to clean up a bit.

All the while, Francis questioned what exactly caused his friend's muse to react so. Friends didn't normally get this frustrated over something like this. Sure, maybe somebody would curse over the phone about having to walk in the cold or having to walk a certain distance. Maybe even ignore a couple of calls, but to ignore Antonio to this extent seemed a bit off.

So—why did he?