~Blu~
"Nobody dies a virgin—life fucks us all."
-Kurt Cobain
The thing about Antonio, once he had his mind set on something, he didn't stop. This was why Francis and Gilbert found themselves sitting up at six in the morning because Antonio was creating an elaborate plan on how to find Lovino.
Neither of the two was exactly happy about being woken up so early when Antonio didn't have class and didn't have work until the afternoon.
"I swear I'm going to chop your dick off for waking me up," Gilbert muttered as he struggled to stay awake. It was one thing for Antonio to tell them his plan at breakfast. However, it was another thing for this idiot to wake them up, knowing well how they felt about it, and insist they magically find energy so that they could listen to his plan.
This wasn't the worst part, no. Nor was it the fact that Antonio didn't buy any coffee. No. The worst part of it all was the fact that this Spanish dork had made them stay up until one in the morning which meant they were running extremely low on energy.
"Antoine, you're a sadist. Can we please go back to sleep," Francis groaned as he struggled to stay awake.
"No. If I recall Francis, you scared him off. Now, let's review the plan again and we'll grab everything and set out to look for him," he chirped in a voice so happy that it made both of his friends want to rip their lungs out.
"Toni, buddy...who the hell is up at this hour besides you?"
"Many people."
"I'm going to strangle you in your sleep," Gilbert threatened, eyes red not from the fact that he was albino. He was going to murder Antonio, chop his body up into separate pieces, throw his body parts into various parts of the Mediterranean, and when the police asked, he would tell them that Antonio had finally gone back to hell where he belonged.
Francis, on the other hand, wouldn't be as extreme. Feeling instead he was going to shave Antonio bald, dye his skin blue, and shove a stick down his throat. If he was feeling like it, he would chop his fingers off and serve them with escargot. He was not in the mood for this.
How Antonio had the energy for this, they didn't know. Suddenly, the desire to revive their mischief from when they were teenagers was not as appealing. If it meant losing hours of sleep, hell no.
"Did you get that Francis?"
Quickly jolting his head up, he looked at his friend, "Euh? What was that?"
Antonio sighed and shook his head, "I guess we have to review everything all over again."
Francis and Gilbert never groaned louder in all their lives.
Francis bit his lip. He glanced over at his friend and stood up from his spot. While frustrated about being woken up without coffee, this wasn't why he put his hand on his friend's shoulder, "Toni, don't you think you're going at this all wrong?"
Gilbert froze in his spot and was wide awake for a moment. He shot a look at Francis, eyes wide while Antonio sat with his mouthing hanging open by just a bit.
Francis sighed lightly and moved closer to his friend, "I'm not saying this because I'm tired, Toni, I'm saying this as your friend. Maybe you're approaching this wrong. He left for a reason and I think perhaps you're going a little too big with this."
Gilbert raised his brow. He was a little more awake now, "Uh, Francis, aren't you the king of going big?" his arms were folded and his mouth clasped into a thin line.
Francis pursed his lips for a moment, his entire face scrunching up in confliction, "I know I am. I'm simply worried that maybe this isn't something that needs a grand show. Some people like those apologies and others don't. Something tells me that this little friend of Toni's doesn't quite appreciate grand shows. Something obviously upset him, so our job is to figure out what exactly it was that upset him."
It was Antonio's turn to seem to fill with a look of confliction. He crossed his legs together and hugged his arms across his chest. He gently scratched at his arm while biting his lip. This did not go unnoticed by Gilbert who gently reached to stop his scratching. He gently lowered Antonio's arm and his face filled with great concern.
"Toni? What's wrong," he asked in a calm voice.
Antonio bit harder on his cheek and did not move his head up to the sound of his friend's voice. Giving a false smile, he shook his head, "It's nothing."
Francis looked over at Gilbert and nodded gently. Francis put a hand on Antonio's shoulder, "Toni, what's eating at you?"
Antonio tried to keep the smile up despite the guilt eating away at him and he took a deep breath, "Did he say anything before he left?" his arms wrapped around his body tighter and his nails began to dig into his skin.
Gilbert removed Antonio's hands gently once again and held them in his own hands. He looked up at Francis with a look that whispered a million words of curiosity and concern.
Francis cleared his throat, "Besides what I already told you, he did mention alcohol. He seemed bugged by it a little more than most people get. Did something happen before we came?"
The words sent rocks to the pit of Antonio's stomach and he swallowed nervously, squeezing Gilbert's hand tightly. He didn't seem bothered by the fact Antonio was practically stabbing his hand.
He let go and curled up more, his legs drawn closer to the couch and his head hanging a bit low, "I've noticed that too. He went quiet the first time I mentioned you guys. Also, I may have had a bit of an overreaction at his place and-"
Francis looked a bit confused at first. What bugged him so much about alcohol? At the mention of the small overreaction, he looked at Gilbert with an extremely concerned face. Their friend did have the tendency to drink more than he should when his emotions spasmed.
Antonio coughed lightly, "We haven't really talked about topics like that a lot, but I think he may have a valid reason for getting upset. I just don't know what."
While Gilbert massaged Antonio's hand to relax him, Francis was the one who spoke, "Then that's where you need to start. I'm guessing he saw the grand collection of alcohol and assumed you were hungover. Don't go wandering the streets right now and don't go searching for him, but wait. When you meet again, just have a calm chat with him and don't do anything big. Talk and then explain the situation. Whatever his reason for being sensitive about alcohol, he'll let you know. You have to understand that he has experienced something leaving him afraid of being put in a situation with alcohol, no matter the amount. Don't pry at him, don't ask, just let him get back to feeling comfortable around you and eventually everything will explain itself."
Antonio took in every word that his friend said and nodded. Big plans were a no. Prying was a no. While he did want to know what exactly was upsetting Lovino, he didn't want to make him any more uncomfortable. He would take Francis' words to heart. It did make him feel a bit better along with Gilbert's massaging.
That's how they all fell asleep. Antonio in the middle, Francis leaning on his shoulder, and Gilbert laid on both of their laps still holding Antonio's hand as if he were massaging it. It seemed that waking up early after staying up late was not the best idea.
Lovino had no intentions of calling Antonio back. Not only was he furious about having to walk home after being told to walk to Antonio's house (which was nicer than his in many ways and it pissed him off), but he had found out that his lovely friend was an alcoholic (at least, that was what he was picking up) and he was not in the mood to deal with any more idiots in his life. Even if he was lonely.
It took all of his willpower not to pick up the phone with a number of times the idiotic meme-slut of a friend of his was calling. Eventually, his ring tone got annoying and it was Chiara Galiazzo; he loved Chiara Galiazzo
So, it was a miracle from the heavens when it stopped. In fact, Lovino started thanking the great Lord above.
He didn't want to ignore Antonio, he just wasn't comfortable around him at the moment. He didn't plan to ignore him forever, he just needed a couple of days to relax and breathe. His paranoia and emotions got the best of him. He felt dramatic of all things.
Lovino felt like a little kid who threw a tantrum because essentially, that was what he had done. He could have handled it better. Simply because two important people in his life drank themselves to the point where they weren't themselves didn't mean Antonio would do that.
Plus, he was an artist. Many people he knew drank. Hell, he drank a bit occasionally. He was a cook! Wine was a common thing that he used! People drank! Just because someone drank didn't mean that they were an alcoholic!
But, then there was the fact that he had seen it. Not just that extremely large collection of alcohol, but that time that Antonio downed glass after glass of wine. It put him off and he found himself irritated. It wasn't that he condemned drinking, he simply condemned people drinking extreme amounts of alcohol. From what he had seen, it seemed that Antonio was drinking more than he needed and Lovino wasn't okay with it. Drinking brought back bad memories and events that he wished that he could erase.
Normally, he didn't care about people and their habits since he hardly spoke to many people. This was different though; he finally made a friend and he did not want to babysit that friend when it came to his drinking.
Maybe he was overreacting. Perhaps it was just something that would never happen again. After all, he had never seen Antonio drink much before that day.
He threw himself onto his couch and screamed into a pillow out of frustration. Life fucking sucked. Worse, it was early in the morning and he had class in a few hours.
His cat meowed and walked over, rubbing himself against Lovino's loose arm. Moving slightly, he looked at his pet and sighed, "Pazzo, can you please stab me with a spatula and take me out of my misery?"
The cat obviously did not respond. Rather, he tilted his head and stared at his owner.
Lovino groaned and fell back into the pillow, "I just don't want to have to babysit someone else only to find out that they don't give two shits about getting better. I don't need to waste any more time on useless sacks of rice that don't know when to stop chugging down alcohol."
Again, the cat did not respond.
Lovino only groaned louder and screamed a chain of long curses and buried his face deeper into his pillow. He had no answer. Friends sucked; they made you question things like this and want to fling yourself into the sun.
Or maybe that was just him.
His friends sucked.
He really didn't know what to think anymore. He was honestly stressed about this. He didn't mind if it was a casual drink and Antonio knew how to control himself, but the man hadn't shown that to him and the anxiety inside of Lovino was beginning to build up.
He wasn't around to ruin Antonio's fun or his youth. Lovino just didn't want to see another person lie between booze-tainted breaths. He was afraid—as much as he refused to say it. He could hear the screams all over again. He could feel the glass beneath his toes in the morning when he woke up to clean it because there was nobody else inside of the house. He could feel the hands around his wrist, yelling at him, throwing him to the floor without a care.
He could feel his tears pouring down his face while he covered his brother's ears. He could feel the pain in his heart that slowly grew numb over time until soon the cries became a normal part of life and the glass shattering remained as another reminder of less money that they would have for that month.
Lovino was fine with people having an occasional drink most of the time. His problem came when it started becoming more frequent. After growing numb to many emotions from the neglect that came with alcohol, he always seemed to get paranoid whenever someone else drank.
Staring at his cat, he sighed. Looking at the clock, Lovino closed his eyes. The least that he could do was attempt to get at least an hour more of sleep before he had to head off to class.
Antonio did just as Francis had suggested and did not go through with elaborate attempts to try and talk to Lovino. While bumping into him on accident was a difficult thing to do considering he could not see when he was near, Antonio was still determined to find Lovino and talk with him.
Admittedly, it was difficult for him to try and forget about the fact that Lovino was upset about something that had to do with alcohol. He had no idea what was going on, but Francis was usually right with these sort of things, so he planned to just let things happen. That was if he even got the chance to find Lovino again.
He was walking to class and while he knew that Lovino also had class, he doubted he would take the same path that Antonio took after seeing how upset he seemed to have gotten. It was unlikely. Honestly, he respected what Francis said and would go through with it, but it did not change the fact that he was concerned that maybe he would no longer speak to Lovino and it was a terrifying thought to think about considering how attached that he was beginning to get towards Lovino. He stood by the crosswalk and waited to cross. Today was one of the few days that he was comfortable with taking his white cane out and tapping it. Although, he really should have used it more considering the fact he really couldn't see.
Suddenly, Antonio felt a hand around his arm breaking him from his thought as he waited to cross the street. He furrowed his eyebrows. That did not feel like Gilbert's wide and calloused hands or Francis' delicate yet rough ones. It didn't take long for him to realize what was happening.
"I can help you get across the street if-"
Antonio did his best not to seem as irritated as he felt inside. He knew that whoever this was meant well, but it didn't change the fact that it irritated him a lot. He pulled his arm away and gave quite a forced smile, listening and feeling to make sure no cars were passing, "I'm fine. I can make my own way across the street."
His tone must have come off as rude and perhaps a bit cocky because the person who had been attempting to help him now seemed to let out a sound of shock and offense. Antonio didn't turn back to apologize mostly because he was running to get to class. Besides, that was something that would have bugged anyone in his position. He understood that the person, whoever they may be, was merely attempting to go through with a good deed, but asking before grabbing his arm would have led to a less irritable situation for him. He didn't like feeling like he couldn't do things by himself.
Since he had been in this situation before and knew the person had been planning on crossing the road as well, he had a good feeling that he was going to have a person demanding to know why he reacted the way that he reacted. Antonio was right, because the minute that he stepped onto the concrete, his arm was grabbed again. He didn't pay attention to the faint smell of chocolate and spice.
The feeling of fire filled his body. It was like acid was being dropped on his arm. He pulled it back and tried to keep walking silently only giving a small "Don't" to the mystery person.
"Look. If you don't want to be around me anymore, just say it already! I'm not going to spend every moment of my life just trying to guess what is going on in your thick head!"
Antonio paused in realization. Oh, it was Lovino. He turned to where his voice had been coming from, "Lovino?"
"No, it's Santa Claus. Who else is it going to be," he retorted. By this point, Antonio was really not fazed by his sarcasm and attitude. It was simply another part of Lovino's personality. Really, the sarcasm was a normal part of life now.
Giving a light chuckle, he rubbed his neck, "Sorry. I was just a bit irritated about someone assuming I needed help and grabbing me randomly. I'm not a fan of that."
Lovino raised his brow lightly and folded his arms, "Yeah, I saw that. Well, I can understand not wanting to be touched randomly by a stranger, but the helping part?"
Antonio bit the inside of his cheek and gestured for Lovino to follow him so that he could continue walking to get to class on time, "It's just—I hate the way people assume that because I am blind, that I need help. I understand wanting to help out, but if I'm not asking, I don't think they should be touching me at all. It's uncomfortable and it seems like I am being told I can't do something as simple as cross the street. People mean well, but nobody likes being treated like they are unable to do simple tasks."
When Lovino went silent, Antonio assumed he had made him mad. He didn't really expect many people to understand. It's hard to understand many things and the need to feel human by blind people is one of the hardest.
"I understand what you mean completely," Lovino finally spoke breaking Antonio's thoughts and counting. Granted, he was now holding onto Lovino's arm as they walked to the campus. Funny, he hadn't even realized that he did that. He was too focused on the fact that Lovino said he understood. He hadn't expected that. Of course, it was different.
"I don't know how it feels through your point of view, but I know what it feels like to be treated as an inferior," he added quietly.
He stopped biting his cheek and his heart beat a little faster. He was surprised and actually a bit happy. It had been far too long since someone had been able to comprehend anything that went through his mind. Especially things like this.
He smelled the cheap food from the food court that told him he was on campus. One more road to cross. Interesting how he hadn't even realized the slight tightening of his hold on Lovino or the fact that he had crossed four other roads. He had been lost in thought, silent, thinking about the fact that while it may not have been exactly what he was looking for in understanding, it was close enough to make him feel better about things.
Lovino cleared his throat and gently removed Antonio's hand from his arm, "Alright, well, this is our split. I guess I'll see you around or something." His voice was a bit rough and hesitant.
Antonio took a step forward to start walking to get to his class, but paused and puffed his cheeks out, "Hey, Lovino? I'm sorry about what happened that day. I know that must have pissed you off a lot. Euh, if you still want to, maybe you could come over again later this evening so we can finally get to painting?" His voice was hopeful despite the slight sound of what seemed to be sadness that trickled in with his words.
Lovino had already taken a couple of steps to leave. He paused upon hearing the words. Anxiety clenched tightly in his chest and he felt his lungs close off for a moment as flashes of bad memories went by his eyes. Taking a deep breath, he thought for a moment and nodded, "Yeah. Just don't have your weird friends over and I want zero drinking while you're painting."
He was aware that his demand might have been silly to Antonio and honestly, considering the amount of alcohol that he had seen, he had doubts about Antonio following through with it. So he was surprised when he heard a chirpy 'okay' come from Antonio before he left and continued making his way to class.
Lovino rolled his eyes slightly, wondering why he had bothered to talk to him, and continued his way to his own class.
If only he had been aware of the great joy that he had left in Antonio just by agreeing to continue with the painting session.
Francis and Gilbert had gotten kicked out by Antonio. This had surprised them by quite a bit really. However, they complied and left without much of an argument. Antonio was quite excited to get back to painting Lovino. He was especially glad that they had been able to push past the bump in the road.
Antonio wanted to call it a fight, but he didn't feel that it was the correct term to describe this. A misunderstanding perhaps? Well, Lovino had reason to suspect what it seemed he had been suspecting. Whatever it was, Antonio was glad that they were moving on past this.
He was so happy in fact, that he actually cooked for once. He pulled out the cookbook that Gilbert had typed out in braille for him despite his protests and claims that he was fine—sometimes his friends were really great. He made some food that he had memorized by heart and something from the cookbook. He may have overcooked.
Yet, who could blame him? He had this friend who he without a doubt wanted to keep in his life and he was determined to make sure he didn't do something stupid. It was a hard thing for Antonio to comprehend really. All of his life he had only had Gilbert and Francis. Lovino was the first person in a long time who he was allowing into his life easily. He was always so cautious with others even if he was polite.
The people in his neighborhood and his college thought him a show off most of the time or some sort of competition. A few complimented him, but even they seemed to only be interested in becoming holier than the crowd and Antonio rarely gave most a chance. It wasn't their faults, they just didn't know how to handle the mess that he had tangled himself in.
Then there was Lovino. Somehow, this random culinary student had intrigued him. Was it the fact that he was hit with reality when they met and treated like any other person? Was it the fact that it still continued?
Probably. It meant so much to him. The difficulty of wanting to be understood always strangled him. So he was allowing Lovino into his life and he wasn't pressing down on the brakes for once. It felt nice. Oh, did it feel nice.
He didn't feel disabled, he didn't feel half-baked; he felt human.
As soon as the doorbell rang, Antonio bolted to the door to open it. He didn't count his steps or think about where he was going so he ended up stumbling and hitting things. But that wasn't his concern right now.
He opened the door and beamed, "Sorry! I was cooking!"
Lovino chuckled a bit and poked Antonio's chest, "If I weren't the one being painted, I would think you had already started. You're a mess, dork."
Antonio laughed, "Sorry! I just dropped stuff and didn't bother to change since we were going to be getting messy anyway."
Lovino arched his eyebrow and walked inside. Antonio's house was really nice and neat. Never mind that, Antonio's house was large. How did one college student afford all of this? He dressed like he came out of a trash can so Lovino was confused. Even now, Antonio was wearing a shirt with dabbing Squidward. Ugh, how could he wear such a thing? It was repulsive. Bringing his thoughts back, he closed the door behind him and folded his arms, "Yeah, don't get me dirty. The one who actually cares about how he looks is wearing Armani."
Antonio seemed a bit surprised, "Armani? That's-"
"Expensive. I know. Which is why I am surprised I found it selling so cheap at a second-hand store. I'm may be poor, but I actually care about how I look. Plus, who turns down designer products when they're really cheap?"
Antonio nodded, seemed fair enough. One time Francis had found some Gucci at the second-hand store. he bought it even if he didn't need it; he did that a lot. Antonio really didn't care much about the brand of his clothing. As long as he had something on his back that looked decent, he was fine. Although considering he was constantly wearing T-shirts with old memes on them, decent wasn't the best word to use.
Lovino coughed, trying to break the silence, "Are your friends over? I smell—"
Antonio shook his head, "No. I thought we would probably get hungry while painting, before, after. So um—I made food. Hopefully, it doesn't taste awful? I don't know. Are you going to Gordon Ramsey my cooking skills?"
The comment actually made Lovino smile ephemerally. His lip twitched and he stifled laughter, "Yeah. Move it, stinky artist, the professional is here to judge your meal,"
Antonio took a step back and put a hand over his chest, "I'm shaking in my bunny slippers!"
Lovino gave a playful roll of the eyes and walked to the kitchen. He was surprised to find it so clean despite Antonio looking like he had been dragged through the mud. He walked over to where the food was set up on the counter. He looked over curiously and lifted the lid. He was taken back a bit by the wonderful smell.
Antonio walked over and smiled warmly, "Do you want to eat now or—"
Lovino shook his head. While the food smelled good, he had stuffed his face with cannoli and couldn't eat anything at the moment, "Later. Let's get to painting. Remember, if you get paint on me, I'll castrate you and make a meal out of your thumbs."
Antonio pouted slightly and gave a small whine, "Aw, but I like my thumbs."
Lovino gave Antonio a playful hit to the shoulder and looked around once more. He felt a bit out of place in Antonio' home despite the fact he was the one who dressed better. It was just the fact that he felt poor beside Antonio. He didn't know what to think as he looked around. As dumb as it was, he had assumed that Antonio lived in a crappy apartment just like he did and not this beautiful house. Although, it was dark. Really dark.
He must have gone silent for too long, because Antonio broke the silence, "Lovino? You still there?"
Lovino shook his head to bring himself back and cleared his throat, "Uh, yeah. Let's head off then. Lead the way, loser."
Antonio gave him a bright smile and reached for Lovino's arm. He pulled him upstairs, only realizing that Lovino couldn't see after he had already tripped over the thing and hit his head on a lamp. In his defense, getting a blind man to remember that other people needed light to see was difficult when he had very few friends.
Lovino couldn't argue with that.
While getting to his studio was an interesting experience, that wasn't the part that stuck with both parties. What stuck with them was painting itself.
Lovino looked up curiously as Antonio had him sitting and posed perfectly. He was amazed at how well organized everything was. Every color was put in the correct order. This confused him at first and then he realized that Antonio had labeled the paint jars with braille. Was that how he chose—when he decided to dress like an actual adult—his clothes and was able to make them match?
Antonio didn't seem to notice Lovino spacing out because he continued to adjust Lovino and then adjust his tools until he was ready. Each touch was gentle, just like it had been the time before. While Antonio collected every detail that he could from feeling around Lovino's face. Fingers grazed gently over his skin while the over hand took the new information and began to place it on the canvas.
He liked Lovino's face. It was soft and it made him smile when he thought about the fact that Lovino tried to pass off as someone who looked completely different. Right now, he could capture every detail about him and he could feel someone that he cared about.
Antonio was amazed for reasons he had yet to comprehend. Even though he had absorbed almost every detail of where his hand currently was, he did not move it for he was joyous in simply knowing. The fact that he knew that Lovino was here and that they could move past the negativity made his heart swell. With each second that he continued to take in who he was, Antonio felt his heart beat fast. He wanted to just touch Lovino's face all day, even when he wasn't painting. While his mind was everywhere, his face was serious still. There was not a single change in his facial expression. Therefore, Lovino would not be able to see the way he was truly acting.
He seemed focused and while he hummed and spoke to Lovino, it was clear he was much more serious and dedicated to what he was doing at the moment. Lovino found it fascinating. Yet, not as fascinating as the feeling of Antonio's hand on his face.
Truth be told, Lovino had never allowed anyone to touch him, even if it was a hug unless it was family (he often still was reluctant). Alfred had been an exception, but they had been dating so it made sense. Alfred's touch had been much different than Antonio's current one. Alfred was more a quick touch that lit small fires everywhere while Antonio's slowly burned and took over every part of him piece by piece. At the thought of his late-boyfriend, he went a bit out of it. His focus changed from the delicate yet callused hands that were taking in every detail about him to the blonde who loved fast-food.
Kisses lingered on his lips and the taste of milkshakes ran through his mind again. It was strange to think that even now he still thought about Alfred at weird times. Reminders of dates to the beach, kisses to glass cuts, and delicate whispers from someone who was loud in everything that he did.
It hurt Lovino and he felt guilty thinking about Alfred while Antonio was painting him. He started to shake a bit, memories flooding too quickly for him. Tears that fell with a phone after receiving results that he wished Alfred had not gotten. Screams and prayers to God. Sweet milkshake kisses that slowly turned to salt and soon ice. A bright smile, blue eyes, laughter that faded. Energetic Alfred slowly losing that energy. Sky blue eyes that turned to a stormy blue and then grey. Sweet milkshake lips that were welcoming once slipping to ice cold ones. A laughter that went from the best thing in his life to tears that fell and one last plea to God for survival.
And a beautiful suit that he once adored seeing that turned into a cold reminder that he was gone. A beautiful suit tailored and matched with those sky blue eyes that went down with him.
Lovino didn't even realize he was crying. He didn't realize that Antonio stopped painting and held him close. He didn't even realize when he wrapped his own arms around Antonio and clung to him as if his life depended on it. He felt silly. One little thought was all that it took and he was sobbing just as badly as he had sobbed the day he had gotten the news.
He expected Antonio to try and pry at him. He expected him to ask a million questions and make the tears pour down faster as more memories poured out.
But he didn't.
Antonio didn't do anything. He held Lovino in his arms and hummed softly—every few moments he would speak and tell Lovino it was okay and to cry it all out. He didn't get it; why did Antonio do this? How could he do this? How could he just hug someone, not ask what was wrong, and still manage to make the sorrowful weight slowly lift up?
He didn't know, but at the moment, he was thankful for Antonio. He wanted him in his life. As much as he didn't agree with him in certain things, he needed him. He clung to Antonio, tears, and sniffs still coming. After a while, he managed to calm down which meant Antonio was finally speaking again.
He still didn't ask.
Antonio wiped Lovino's tears and pushed his hair back, "Let's take a break. Come on, we'll eat."
Normally, Lovino would have protested, but after that much crying, he did need some food.
Oh, how he felt pathetic. Here Antonio was, caring about him and painting him—yet, all that Lovino could do was cry about someone who wasn't even alive anymore. The worst part that it was when he was with Antonio and it just made him feel like a pathetic, weak, needy friend with no control over his emotions.
He stood up and looked at whatever progress Antonio could have made before he decided to break down in tears. To his surprise, it was a lot, and Lovino looked at it in amazement. It was quite texturized, but that didn't change the detail in it.
He was snapped out of his thoughts by clacking on something and then the sound of paper tearing. He looked over to where Antonio was and saw him pinning the paper to the painting. Was it a note? He didn't know. He didn't ask.
Antonio did know however, he was simply writing himself a nice note that reminded him of what he was doing and where he was currently in progress as well as the color mixture that he was using for the outline of Lovino's face. Of course, how could Lovino know that? He had typed the note out in braille.
He thanked God for those magnificent machines that made his life a little easier when he was in a lecture or needed to write something down. As soon as he had pinned it down and put his paintbrush in his water jar, he moved his hand in search for Lovino's arm. He grabbed onto it loosely and stood up.
"Come on, we should get downstairs then. Francis and Gilbert will be here in a couple hours and you don't seem to like them very much," he gave a light laugh as he walked with Lovino. his free hand was searching around him to make sure that he didn't bump into things. As well as he knew his home, his art room was unpredictable with how much messier it was compared to the rest of the house.
He didn't hear Lovino speak, so he didn't say anything. While curious about what made Lovino cry so suddenly, he did not ask. As much as he was concerned, he wanted his friend to feel comfortable around him rather than feeling invaded.
Once they were downstairs was when Lovino spoke. His voice was quiet, "I'm sorry about that. It was stupid—"
Antonio shook his head, his lips pulling tighter and thinner, "No. In the time I have known you Lovino, you have not had a break down like that, not over silly things or small things like you say. It's okay to cry, you know. Everyone needs to once in awhile. And whatever is going on in your head is obviously not stupid if it is affecting you like this."
Lovino's head fell onto Antonio's shoulder and he sighed, "It really is stupid. I've been nothing but an emotional wreck this week. Why do you even bother trying to be my friend when all I do is overreact and let my emotions spike over stupid things?"
Antonio wrapped his arm around Lovino again and hugged him close, "I still don't think it's stupid. Do you want to talk about it?"
Lovino grumbled lightly and buried his face in Antonio's shoulder, "It's just—when you started touching my face while painting, it reminded me of the only other person I let touch my face like that."
Antonio pursed his lips and nodded. So that's what it was. It certainly wasn't stupid. He felt a bit bad knowing this information now. Was he talking about an old girlfriend? It sent a slight pang to his heart and he didn't know why, "I don't have to paint you if you don't want, Lovino."
Shaking his head, he sighed, "No, I'm fine. I just—I need to let him go. He's somewhere better and I haven't done a good job accepting that. I'm working on it."
Antonio's heart swelled for a moment at the mention of 'him'. Did it make him a bad person for getting excited about the past person being a him while Lovino was confessing his pain? It sure made him feel like one. he needed to get back into focus.
"It's alright. Things like that are hard. If you ever need a break, just tell me, okay? Come, let's get you something to eat," he smiled warmly and let go of Lovino so that he could lead him to the dining room, "And for the record, I love being your friend because you treat me like a human. Even today, you were willing to give me another chance after I messed up not because I'm blind and not out of pity, but because you thought I deserved a second chance. You're great; I don't know how you can't see it."
Lovino went silent and it would have concerned Antonio if he wasn't already aware what words as simple as those did to Lovino.
"You are the cheesiest idiot I have ever met. Just serve the food already," Lovino snapped. Antonio knew he didn't mean harm. That's how Lovino was. He had grown able to detect when he was actually irritated or angry and now wasn't one of those times.
He was right; Lovino meant to harm. He was just flustered. All of his life he was used to getting insults rather than complements. The fact that Antonio cared and tried to bring him comfort after making assumptions without talking to him and breaking out in tears made him happier than anyone could ever possibly comprehend. He didn't pry at him—he didn't even ask about what had made him angry the first time. Lovino didn't feel worthy of such a friendship.
It almost made him regret the gift he was keeping in his bag.
Antonio managed to snap Lovino out of his thoughts once he placed the somehow still warm food on plates. The aroma already made him drool. He sat down and watched as Antonio felt around for his own spot, "Please tell me I didn't spill. Also, please don't Gordon Ramsey my cooking."
Lovino's lips curved into a small smile and he let out an amused snort before shaking his head, "No, you didn't spill. However, we will have to see about your cooking. I won't allow nasty food to go past my lips."
Lovino took a bite and sat there amazed for a moment. Whatever he was eating was spicy but also creamy. The texture was nice and oh did those spices mix well together, "I take it back. I take it all back. I praise you, you idiotic, dino-nugget eating, cheesy son of a bitch. This is good. Remind me again why you're surviving off of dinosaur shaped chicken nuggets?"
Antonio chuckled softly and took a bite of his food, "I'm glad it appeals to your refined taste. Also, we're both in school. I doubt money is raining down on our lives."
Lovino raised a brow in confusion. He was living in a place like this and was honestly trying to convince him that he was a broke college student as well?
"This house is an old house. If it weren't for the fact that my entire family seemed to have owned this place, I would be in an apartment like yours."
"That's one way to call me a bum."
Antonio choked on his food and stood up to try and apologize only to spill his water. Lovino laughed at him, of course. As he was trying to explain that he was joking, Antonio took too big of a step and hit his head on the plant dangling from the ceiling.
Eating was hardly done at all actually. Lovino and Antonio ended up on the couch, laughing while Antonio sipped a little wine. Although, Lovino didn't eat much because while the food was delicious and he had wanted to eat more, the familiar feeling of nausea hit him and he didn't eat in fear of having to excuse himself and have Antonio worry about him. While Lovino felt the uncomfortable jitters returning as he drank, he let Antonio have the little bit that he was currently drinking.
'It's fine, it's fine. It's just a small drink'
His thoughts disappeared when Antonio started singing softly. Lovino turned and smiled as he saw the wine glass placed down on the coffee table while Antonio sang softly and beamed. There was a relaxed look on his face.
"It is strange that I talk to myself? Is it weird when I hear someone else? What do I do? There's no more you," his voice filled the room and Lovino lay back to listen to it. Antonio's voice was deep, soothing, smooth, and alluring. Lovino could listen to it all day. His singing was such a nice sound and it made him feel like he was a kid listening to his mother sing to him.
He didn't think about bad memories that came after that, he simply smiled and listened to Antonio. It didn't matter when Antonio stopped singing because Lovino felt soothed. He looked at the time and shook the painter slightly, "As much as I would like to be lazy and sit here, I think we have a painting to finish."
Antonio frowned slightly and sat up, "Are you sure?"
As much as he would love to continue to paint Lovino, he didn't want to do anything to make him uncomfortable. He really cared about how he felt and would never push the boundaries that were set.
Lovino reached and gently nudged Antonio, "Yeah, I'm sure. Come on, dork. That painting won't finish itself. It's not a big deal."
Antonio bit the inside of his cheek. While he was glad that Lovino wanted to continue, he didn't want him brushing off things like that as nothing important when it was clear that whatever he was thinking about was disturbing him. He nodded and stood up, reaching for Lovino's hand. He made a mental note to make sure to pay extra close attention so that if Lovino seemed to get uncomfortable or on the verge of breaking down, he could stop and suggest they do something else for the remaining time.
Upon grabbing Lovino's hand, his friend flushed slightly as he was used to being grabbed by the arm and not such a direct thing as this. It was a bit much, wasn't it?
It didn't seem to matter to Antonio as he made his way back to the room where they had been hand-in-hand. Truth be told, he was growing more and more comfortable around Lovino the more they were around one another—arguments were obviously an exception. In his mind, he was acting no different around Lovino than usual. It seemed that for all of his skills with analyzing people and picking up on certain situations quickly, he did not do the same for himself—thus, he failed to distinguish his behavior as being anything strange.
Lovino—he chose not to see it. He was clearly capable of being able to understand that Antonio was beginning to desire him as more than a friend, but he failed to allow himself to do so.
In the end, it seemed that the two were blind in a friendship that had its difficulties which arose the question of if Lovino ignored things in fear of getting too close and being damaged or if Antonio was afraid to allow himself to love. Only God knew.
Antonio was humming softly as he set everything up as it had been before, "I'll probably only paint you for an hour more. I'm sure we both have things we need to do."
"Mhm. Well, I told you my schedule, so don't start planning rap when I'm obviously busy."
"Yes! I'll send you a message later with times we can meet up and such. Thank you for still agreeing to do this," he gave a shy smile as he picked up his paintbrush and reached for Lovino's face so that he could carry on. However, he hesitated and bit his lip which confused Lovino.
Before he could ask what was going on in Antonio's mind, he was interrupted, "Hey, today was actually pretty fun. Maybe, Thursday we could do something? Besides painting. This isn't for school, so I have all of the time for that—but maybe we could go to the cultural festival and just kinda hang out," he muttered the last bits nervously.
Lovino looked at him curiously, an eyebrow raised. He seemed a bit bashful. Although, he found it rather endearing because it meant he made Antonio nervous for whatever the reason be. It honestly gave him a bit of an ego boost. He nodded, his head still in Antonio's hand, "Yeah, that sounds nice. We can head out after I finish my stuff then. Just don't do anything stupid there or I'll shove you into the river."
At this, he laughed and nodded, "There go most of my plans then," he joked before giving a playful grin, "I would never do anything stupid to embarrass my lovely muse~"
Lovino chuckled and muttered something along the lines of 'dumbass' under his breath before Antonio started his soft music and began to paint again. This time, Lovino closed his eyes and let things happen. He didn't think about Alfred—he just listened to the music and Antonio's brush strokes.
Antonio on the other hand, he was having trouble focusing. While he had memorized each part of Lovino's jaw and chin, he found himself unable to paint. He was much too mesmerized by the person that he was painting. He wanted to run his hands along every turn and every curve of Lovino's face for no reason besides simply being able to.
Assuming that Lovino thought he was deep in thought about his next stroke, Antonio just held Lovino's face. For the first time in years, he felt sorrow about being blind. Not mild sadness that stung bitterly and left after a bit—sorrow that broke his heart and made his mind fall grey. If he could only see one person in the entire world, he thought, it would be Lovino. Memorizing features and putting them together only did so much.
'This face—I will paint it a thousand times. Then I will draw it a thousand times more.'
He did paint, but it was very slow. Part of that reason being so that he would have an actual excuse for Lovino to come over more often.
Of course, eventually, Lovino had to leave. Antonio typed out another note, putting it on his canvas while also making sure that each pin was in place so that he could find his place again.
Taking Lovino's hand once again, he walked him downstairs and to the door after making sure that he had not forgotten anything. He was still beaming like the ray of light that he was, "I look forward to Thursday."
Lovino snorted, "You sound dramatic when you say it like that. Whatever, I'll see you Thursday," he let go of Antonio's hand and turned to leave before letting out a small gasp, "Wait! I almost forgot. I got you something from the store. Thought that you could at least look decent in your hobo wardrobe."
He placed a bag in Antonio's hands and tried to conceal the smirk on his face. The shirt was actually a petty revenge shirt. As much as he was glad they were getting back to being good friends, he was petty and would not forgive entirely without the other person looking a little dumb for a bit.
Antonio actually was surprised and stood frozen for a moment. He was in a moment of disbelief. It vanished quickly and was replaced with a bright smile. He embraced Lovino tightly and laughed in great joy, "Thank you so much!"
Lovino may or may not have felt a slight amount of guilt for a moment.
"It's whatever. You have no fashion sense so you obviously need some ugly shirt to go with that ugly closet," he teased, "I really have to get going too. Smell you later, stinky chef."
Antonio put a hand to his heart, "I am wounded, Lovino! Oh, woe! Betrayal," he cried out dramatically before smiling a small smile and heading back inside once he was sure that Lovino was at the gate. He shut the door and hugged the bag close, throwing himself to the couch and laying there for a few minutes while planning on wearing the shirt that secretly said "Art VanHOE" on the front in big letters. That would certainly turn out to be an interesting experience for the two.
He was grateful to still have Lovino around and he was happy that he had a friend that joked and teased him freely. He was thankful that Lovino told him things as they were rather than sugarcoating words that would not benefit either of them. He was thankful that someone didn't pity him and above all, Antonio was happy that he found someone that he wanted to paint day after day without stop.
Warmth grew in his heart and innocent Antonio with no idea for what he felt nor what the future held, was slowly throwing himself into a bed of roses; beauty that came with pain.
Haha! I am not dead yet! Although, school is killing me, my readers. You would think my sophomore year would be less stressful...Anyway, I'm hoping to get an actual schedule on these updates. Alright, a couple of things I want to state that are mentioned with Antonio's painting style.
I based how he works off of a family friend of mine who did the same. He would place nine pins on the canvas to divide things easily (he could go "ah yes, I was painting on 3,2" and work from there. Sometimes extra pins were added to mark the exact spot. The braille typewriter was also a grand salvation to him! I thought that this would be an interesting thing to add in.
Also, a warning. Things are going to get a bit more touchy after this chapter. Check the warnings I put in the description. I really don't want someone to feel uncomfortable with what is going to happen soon. I mean it when I say things are getting more touchy. We are entering the stage where you guys realize that this story is dealing with a lot of things that I feel need to be addressed.
That is all, leave a nice (or harsh) review, share the story, etc! I shall see you guys in the next update!
~ Lluvia Di'Noche