Lovino smiled as he stopped talking for a few moments, bringing to his lips the delicious Sicilian wine he had ordered. The young girl in front of him was admiring him with devotion, holding onto his every word. He kept speaking with the charming tone he kept for beauties such as her. She was beautiful indeed: short brown locks like dark chocolate slivers, held back in a messy bun, large green eyes with thick, perfect eyelashes, tan skin like she just came back from summer vacation, full, playful lips adorned with lip-gloss, an incredibly sexy Latin accent… Her face seemed familiar and she might be slightly older than him, but that was far from bothering him.

The light was slowly softening, the music was growing sweeter, languorous. He set his glass down and let his hand land delicately over the one his guest had innocently left near him. They weren't talking anymore, their eyes locked on each other. Lovino could feel his throat drying. As much as he liked to brag about his charm (this delightful creature was enough proof), it was the first time he would kiss a girl.

She went ahead first. She bent over the table, intertwining their fingers, and bringing their two faces closer. Lovino couldn't move. Slowly, she applied her tempting lips to the young boy's, silently asking to enter his mouth. He granted her access and their tongues found each other in a possessive ballet. It was simply magical. The best experience he ever lived…

He heard someone talking to him. Far. Far away from the marvelous apparition offering herself to him. Maybe a waiter asking them not to do such things in the restaurant. He did not care, for now he only cared about those lips to which the gloss gave a taste akin to… tomato? This girl was definitely perfect.

Unfortunately, the person asking for attention was insisting. Couldn't they see he was busy doing something more important than paying the bill, really? The voice kept pushing, more distinct, more familiar. Lovino knew that voice. But he wasn't going to listen, no sir! He wanted that moment to go on, and on…

Meeting the ground was a surprise. Lovino opened his eyes. No more chic restaurant, no more pretty girl, he was in his room and his brother was stuttering apologies, his blanket in his hands. And he had a bump on top of that. "Damn it, Feliciano! Would it kill you to have waited two more seconds?"

"Veeee… But, fratello…"

"I don't give a shit, okay? On week-ends, I'M SLEEPING! So give me a fucking break!" He went back to bed and stubbornly closed his eyes, ready to keep the act. Then he opened them again and looked at his brother. "AND GIVE ME BACK MY FUCKING BLANKET, DAMN IT!"

"B-b-but… Fratello… vee…" Feliciano didn't know what to do anymore. Lovino took the blanket from him and rolled himself in it until he looked like a giant burrito, then dropped himself on the mattress and snored exaggeratedly to let him know he was sleeping. Feliciano fidgeted with his hands for a few moments, then leaned towards his brother. "Lovino… You see, the cafeteria is closing in a half-hour and we won't get a breakfast if we miss it…" A grumble raised from him, which meant the argument was getting to him. Feliciano had a playful smile and leaned forward to whisper in his ear: "They say on weekends, they have sfogliatella…"

The Italian went completely silent and Feliciano's smile grew. He won. "Ok, I'll come…" Lovino grumbled in his pillow.

"Veee!" Feliciano chirped before running to his closet to get his brother some clothes. Because of course he could get up before his brother, especially when food was involved. So he was dressed already. However, when he turned back to the bed, Lovino was still tightly wrapped up in his quilt, silent. "Well? Aren't you getting up?"

"Yes, yes… I am, idiot…" A moment went by as Lovino struggled inside his blanket cocoon. They he stopped again. "Help me, dumb ass. I'm stuck…"

Of course, there were no sfogliatellas at the cafeteria. It was just the best way to get Lovino up when he was in a bad mood. Brother tactic, made in Feliciano. Thankfully, there were warm croissants and tomato juice. So Lovino wasn't in too much of a huff, despite the absence of his favorite pastry.

Now cam the hard part: convince Lovino to come and visit all the clubs with Feliciano for club day.

"I'm sure there is an art club!"

"I'm not coming."

"There is also a sport club, I saw them train."

"I'm not coming."

"Lud' told me his brother was in a music club. Wouldn't it be great if you could sing? I know you can do pretty well when you're trying!"

"… I'm definitely not coming."

"But… Fratello…" Feliciano had a disappointed frown. He had been looking forward to spending this day with his brother he loved despite his bad moods, his language, his manners and his hypocrisy… "Ve… I really don't wanna go visit alone…"

"That's your problem, you little shit."

"I'd ask Ludwig but he said he was the journalism club's captain…"

"…"

"So he's gonna be in the History room all morning…"

"…"

"Well, I guess I could stay with him for the moment! And then we'll go visit everything else in the afternoon, ve!"

"…"

"So I'll be with Ludwig all day! Isn't that neat?"

"… Okay, I'll come with you."

"Really?!"

Lovino nodded, looking like a man who'd just sentenced himself to death as Feliciano started dancing with joy around him. Well, it was still better than leaving his brother alone and vulnerable with the potato bastard.

"Oh… So you're interested in the delicate and refined art of gastronomy?" Francis winked at them and turned around for a second to start the oven's pre-heat timer. Romano took advantage of that time to stick two fingers in his mouth, showing his brother what he thought of the French boy. Feliciano refrained from laughing and tried to stay serious when Francis turned to them again with a large smile, ready to explain how delicate and refined his club was.

"Francis! Where the fuck is my loukoum pan?!" Sadiq yelled from the other side of the kitchen.

"In your ass, dick head!" Romano couldn't help himself from saying before the French boy could even open his mouth. He was bored as hell after all, so might as well have a bit of fun!

Francis pinched his nose bridge with a sigh of despair as the Turk boy looked up from the stove to see who had the nerve to talk back to him like this. "Third cupboard, Sadiq!" he called to calm his friend down.

"Ve, ve, Francis?"

"Yes?"

"Can I join your club?"

A large smile split the French boy's face in half. "But of course! The cuisine deserves to be shared!"

"Ve!"

"However, you must know we demand quality skills."

"Ve!"

"If you wish to join, you will have to pass several quite strict tests to prove to us your gustative sensitivity and your culinary talents."

"… Ve?"

"Oh, and please keep in mind that if you believe yourself better than me in cooking, I would be glad to have a friendly fencing challenge with you, what do you say?"

"V-ve?!"

A few minutes later, Francis went back to making his apple-pear-cinnamon pie.

"So, any candidates, aru?" Yao asked from the corner furthest from the stove, kneading his future almond biscuits

"They changed their mind," Francis answered calmly.

"Fehu."

"Nope. That was Ansuz."

"Shit."

"Could you knock it off? I'm trying to make a decent page in the grimoire and you guys are not helping!"

"Sorry, Dylan."

"Boys, warn me when there is no more thyme! What do I use for my amulet, now?"

"Just take the verbena, Fiona. You could use it…"

"Are you saying I have emotional problems?"

"Uh… Yeah."

"Well, fuck you!"

"Guys, for a ritual against fatigue, do I use cinnamon or rose incense?"

"Neither, Arthur. Use violet, read the grimoire again."

"When the ink is dry!"

"I'm not an idiot, thank you very much!"

"And read the memory ritual again too!"

"And if you find one that helps get that stick out your ass, do it immediately, I'll even help!"

"Thank you a lot, Oscar, Allister, Dylan. If I find one that gives you a brain, I'll tell you…"

Feliciano and Lovino shared a glance. And then tip-toed back out of the Litterature room, promising to themselves they would not come back here after classes are over.

"Ah, hi boys!"

Mrs. Jones was there, paint brush in her hand, in front of her canvas. She stood up to greet the twins and they noticed her jeans covered in paint stains. The art room was quite empty compared to other clubs. Thankfully, the few students there were probably geniuses for the numerous works exposed on the walls and shelves were all beautiful.

"Are you here to join the art club?"

"I am!" Feliciano immediately chirped. "Romano, though…"

"Leave me out of this, dumbass…"

As his brother filled up the inscription chart with his name, class and signature, Romano took a look at the works. There was pottery, charcoal sketching, canvases, wood and stone sculptures, photography, models made out of trash. Everything. He looked down and saw three students that looked way too young to be here. The first one was a little girl wearing purple and a beret from which fell two long white braids. The second one was a little redhead with a fake scar across his face, and the last one was a little girl wearing a flower in her brown hair. They were all ten at most.

"They are the town's children," Aiyanna explained when she noticed Lovino's interest. "They come here to paint almost every Saturday. I wouldn't bother them if I were you."

Indeed, despite their young age, they seemed extremely focused on their respective canvases. Especially the white haired girl. Even if she was still just using a pencil, her drawing was already wonderful. And the two others were close behind. Lovino couldn't say he had such talent.

"Fratello! Fratello! Let's go!"

In the meantime, in the french room…

"Finally! I was wondering when you were going to join!"

"Oh, uh, sorry?"

Tino smiled a little. He had had lunch with the "Nordics" all week but he didn't know they were an actual club. At least, not until Berwald brought him here without asking like he always did… He really had to find some time to make things clear between them.

However, he really couldn't see what kind of club they were. The French room didn't have any real device, except for some empty closet nobody used. "Say, what kind of club is that?"

"Well we protect the school in the name of justice with incredible fu…"

"Forget it, he's being stupid," Lukas grumbled from his chair. He was reading, eyes as empty as usual, as his brother ate licorice sticks next to him.

"Actually, we don't do much. It's just a way of saying we're a group. Sometimes we talk, or we play board games…"

"Oh, okay. So it's kind of like a… friendship club?"

"Whoah, hey, that actually sound pretty good!" Mathias exclaimed. "A little lovey-dovey but it's cool!"

Tino had a small shy smile.

"Well there you go! Oh, and incase you were wondering, yes, I am the king of this club!" said the boy with spikey hair, attracting looks of pity from the rest of the club. He went and grabbed Lukas' shoulder with a large smile. "And this is my queen!"

Lukas calmly sat his book down, stood, looked at Mathias, kicked him in the legs, sending the Danish boy down, sat back down and went back to reading, all of this with a perfect self-control. Tino realized with a jump that he was already used to that kind of scene.

"So… If Mathias and Lukas are king and queen, what if Emil was the bishop, Berwald the rock and I would be the knight," he said, hoping to lighten the mood.

Berwald immediately sent him a terrifying look and Tino screamed, then apologized for saying something so… Whatever Berwald thought of it. But when he looked up, the Swedish boy was just surprised.

"Ya d'n't need t' ap'log'ze." He reached out and possessively pulled the finish boy close. Tino couldn't move. "I j'st thought 't was c'te."

During the week, when he had gone to get a book, Feliciano had wondered why the philosophy room's closet was full of sleeping bags. Now he knew.

"Feli! Lovi! Are you joining the siesta club?"

Antonio thought it was very funny to compare the brothers' reactions. As Feliciano had just tilted his head with interest, Lovino had crossed his arms, grumbled and looked away.

"Ve, siesta? It's a club where you can sleep?"

"Hum… yes, but not just that. See the guy over there, with brown hair?"

Yes, the guy fighting with the Turk they had seen at the gastronomy club a half-hour ago. Hard to miss him. Especially because he had just fallen asleep. In the middle of the fight. Fist up, ready to punch his rival. Rival that seemed on the verge of despair and just let the boy fall on one of the sleeping bag, waiting for him to wake up. Yes, they saw him.

"Well, that's Heracles, the club captain, he can make people fall asleep and control their dreams. Well, make them come into his dreams and control that."

"Oh, ok. What about the guys trying to kill him?"

"Oh, that's Sadiq, his roommate. They fight whenever Heracles is awake."

"Oh, okay…"

The boy didn't seem very patient. And Feliciano didn't really want to know why he was wearing a mask.

"So, as I was saying, we have collective dreams here, so we do pretty crazy stuff. Last time, we did sky-diving-canoe over Niagara Falls."

"That sounds awesome!" Feliciano exclaimed with stars in his eyes.

"It is! There is just one tiny problema…" He turned to the greek boy Sadiq was trying to wake up by slapping him so they could start fighting again. "He's got narcolepsy. So we have to remind him to get us to sleep before he does. Otherwise it's pretty hard to get him to wake up…"

In the end, the Turk just let it go and left a small metal box on the greek boy's body before powerwalking away, looking pretty pissed.

"So, do you want to join?"

"Ve!" Feliciano confirmed.

"Ludwig! Ciao! Ciao, ciao!"

The German boy talking with Kiku had barely enough time to turn around before an overexcited Italian fell into his arms. He was starting to get used to his over-affectionate shenanigans and didn't complain when the little brunet snuggled up to him for his "good morning hug". However…

"Oh? Ciao, Kiku!"

The Japanese boy almost had an attack when his adorable classmate threw himself at him and kissed him on both cheeks while holding him so tight he was pretty sure his lungs were going to spill out through his nose. "F-F-Fe-Feliciano-kun, p-p-p-p-please let me go."

Feliciana stepped back and Kiku tried his best to calm down. Since he got into the school, he was trying his best not to panic when someone stood a little too close or was a little too affectionate, but the Italian boy's surprise-hugs were just too much. It wasn't that he did not enjoy his company, he was probably the classmate that had been the friendliest to him so far. They just didn't think the same way. To Kiku, a hug or a kiss was an affection gesture between old friends or close family, shouldn't be done in public and meant deep feelings. To Feliciano, it was like saying "hi".

As soon as he had his fill of hugs, Feliciano starting telling them everything about his morning, especially detailing the way his brother had been accidentally put to sleep by Heracles when he had bet with Antonio that he could wake him up.

"So, Ludwig? How is it going? How many members does the journalism club have so far?

Ludwig hesitated for a few seconds. "Two."

"Two? Two that joined you, right?"

"No, we're just two." Facing the Italian's stunned face, he explained: "We were three last year, but they were on their last year. So yes, that leaves only me, and Kiku who just joined."

The boy turned to his Japanese classmate who nodded. "V-Ve?! That's horrible!"

"If we're organized, we can do a decent job."

"But you are all alone! Ve, it's too sad… I'll… I'll join!"

Ludwig's eyes grew huge. "You?"

"Yeah!"

"You are interested in journalism?"

Feliciano nodded vividly. "For example, Papà has tons of very cool magazines with tons of pretty models and he has some he doesn't want me to read but that are probably amazing because he keeps them under his mattress so he won't lose them…"

"Not that kind of journalism…"

Feliciano tilted his head. "What kind, then?"

And Ludwig spent two hours explaining how the school's journal worked as Feliciano listened more or less attentively until he passed out on a table…

As for Kiku, he left the history room, quite glad he found a serious activity he could tell his parents about next time he'd send them an e-mail. They would probably be proud to know their son was part of the journalism club. And he was happy with it too. It was the best arrangement.

The day was only just beginning but the young Japanese boy knew he probably wouldn't join any other club. He had no particular talent for cooking, arts or music, had a feeble constitution that would not do any good in sports, and really didn't see the point in joining the "nap club". As for all the other clubs, they seemed more like discussion groups, which was of limited interest. Well, he could always give them a chance.

Actually, as he thought this, he walked by the geography room. The paper sheet taped on it said "student help club". Well this seemed quite honorable. Hesitating slightly, he stopped. What could be the harm in trying? He pushed the door.

Alfred was standing on top of a table and seemed in the middle of a longue explanation about the club's objectives as two or three students around him listened with more or less interested faces. "… And so, the goal is to show everyone how HEROIC our club is by doing our HERO duty all year round, which means helping students who… Oh, hi, Kiku-chan!"

Kiku sighed. He felt like some mischievous yokai was pushing him towards the most active student in the school all the time, just to f… mess with him. He gestured at Alfred to not pay him any mind and to keep talking.

"Oh, yeah, what was I saying? Right, helping students who have trouble with their lessons, or with other students. For example…" He pointed at Kiku and everybody looked in his direction. The young boy mentally slapped himself for not leaving as soon as he had walked in. "Making sure new students adapt smoothly, even when you have to help them personally! Every member of the club must act this way! That's the duty of HEROS!"

And he started laughing for no apparent reason. Kiku decided he had seen enough and left the room. He would not join this club.

He walked around in the corridors for a while. Sometimes, he'd step into a room to listen someone brag about their club's merit, but he would always leave unconvinced. Morning was almost over and he was sure there wasn't anything more to see. Maybe he'd better go find a seat at the library and wait for the afternoon's performances.

As he walked down the corridor, a detail suddenly caught his eye. A small book with a laminated cover, conspicuously sitting around a corner of wall. He approached, intrigued, and recognized the cover of the first tome of Sekaiichi Hatsukoi. His eyes widened and he quickly checked that nobody was watching. Thankfully for him, the corridor was currently empty.

He approached slowly, carefully, as if the combination of ink and paper might jump at him to bite his face off. Glancing around frequently, he bent forward and reached out for the manga… that flew a few feet away when he was about to touch it. Startled, Kiku fell forward and had to catch himself with his hands. He looked up to the spot the manga had slipped to, mocking him. He frowned. The yokai playing with his nerves was at it again?

He stood up and, again, walked carefully to the manga that fled as soon as he tried to take it. Growing more and more surprised, he tried going faster to catch it but the small book just slipped faster out of reach. Defied, the Japanese boy ran after the manga, down the staircase and into the playground, until he saw it disappear into the PCD room.

Kiku hesitated to follow it inside. He could remember all too well the joke Luna-sensei had put up for them at the beginning of the week. He wasn't one of those who had really panicked but the experience still had its effect. If it was another joke trying to jumpstart some sort of power he didn't know about, he'd rather walk away now and lock himself in his room. But, on the other side, such a plan just to bring him here was intriguing. And it would be cowardly not to take the challenge.

After a few more moments of deliberation, he stepped into the room, curiosity stronger than prudence.

The room was empty. No manga around. Nobody either, nothing. Kiku took a few more steps, looked left and right. No, nothing at all. Well, there might be someone hiding in the stockroom, but that didn't seem as important all of a sudden. He chose to overlook the commotion he could here in the projection room and was about to walk away.

When his hands suddenly slapped themselves over his eyes. All by themselves. He tried to gain back control but it was impossible. As if some puppet-master had attached strings to his fingers and kept them firmly over his eyes to blind him. He heard the projection room's door fly open and a dozen people run towards him. They bonded his legs, as his hands still wouldn't budge, and took him away. He did not panic, waiting to know more about the situation in order to act consequently.

He was sat on a chair and strapped down. His arms were bound behind his back and he could see where he was. Apparently, he was brought into the projection room. His chair was placed before the projection screen. The shades were down, so it was quite dark. A silhouette was standing before him. It's wasn't easy to see it clearly in the dark but he could make out a skirt and long hair, which led him to think it was probably a girl. Or Feliks with a wig, but Kiku wasn't sure why Feliks would need to wear a wig. Whoever that was, her face was hidden behind a white, roughly cut paper mask attached to her head with a piece of string. The Japanese boy could also feel the less than silent presence of several other people behind him.

The young girl loomed over him. If she was trying to intimidate him, she wasn't trying hard enough, he wouldn't be scared with this.

"Kiku Honda, or "Kiku-chan"," she recited with a strange accent, something that sounded eastern-European. Kiku tried not to cringe. The nickname sounded strangely more insulting in another mouth than Alfred's. "First year student at Hetako Academy, aged fourteen…"

"Fifteen," Kiku mechanically corrected.

"… Fifteen, Japanese and gifted with "origami life"." She stopped, as if trying to raise the suspense. "You were seen on Saturday September 7th, at 1021, walking around the yaoi section of Mrs. Suzuki's store. According to our informants, you have reacted in an unusual fashion to the presence of boys-love posters on the walls."

She stopped and stepped back with a dramatic look to turn the projector on. The image that appeared on the screen was cut in half. The first half showed a perfectly unknown boy standing in front of a shonen-ai poster. Laos, according to the very crappy quality, the picture was probably taken a long time ago. The second half, however, was a lot more recent as it showed Kiku standing in front of the same poster. The other difference was the two boys' expression. While the lambda boy was very distinctly cringing, Kiku had a very attentive face, although quite neutral.

The young girl took a laser pointer and try to show something on the screen with the small red point. She was probably trying to look scientific and confident.

"Contrary to a male individual of your age, you haven't manifested any disgust. Instead, you have briefly shown a kind of fascination for this sort of art. Plus, we know from relatable sources that boys avoid the yaoi section and walk by quickly if necessary. You, however, haven't manifested any hurry and went there freely."

She turned the projector off before the neutral gaze of Kiku who was honestly wondering if she had nothing better to do than watch people's reaction in the yaoi isle.

"Lastly, you have manifested a positive reaction to our test consisting of luring you here with this," she said, showing him the first tome of Sekaiichi Hatsukoi which cover was just tied to an invisible wire. A few claps started behind him but he didn't even look away. "Now, I'll offer you two options," she finished when everything was silent again. She walked to him ominously, managing to make him uneasy. "First option: freely join the shipping club. Second option: be forced to join. Please keep in mind before making your choice that I have the gift of dominance and so you cannot say no to me."

Kiku thought for a moment, impassively scrutinizing the olive green eyes he could almost make out under the paper mask. But at the back of his mind, he was laughing. This was just a fangirl club offering him to join. Problem was, even if he wasn't really against it, he could not let it be known that he was into this. It was against his honor. But, well, if he didn't have a choice, he could just say he was forced to help out. "I accept."

"You won't take that back?"

"I don't have a choice, do I?"

The young girl stopped and giggled silently. She tore her mask off, revealing a joyful face. "No, you don't!" She gestured to the other to turn the light on and untie him. Kiku realized almost every girl in the school was there, including Mei and Faustina, watching him mockingly. There were about a dozen and a half. "Welcome to the club, Kiku-chan!" said Elizaveta, the one that had presented the little investigation, after she introduced herself. "Also, sorry about the whole act, I always wanted to do that!"

"I won't hold it against you, Elizaveta senpai," Kiku let slip. As soon as he said that, the shipping club captain suddenly blushed and hid behind her hands, squealing. Kiku gave her an incredulous look. "Elizaveta senpai? Is everything alright?"

"Yes, yes, I'm fine, Kiku-chan. I just…" She managed to pull herself together and breathed in deeply. "I always wanted to be called senpai by such a cute uke… Ahem, I mean a boy."

Kiku decided to pretend he hadn't heard anything. "May I add a clause to my admission?"

"Sure, what is it?"

"That nobody will call me Kiku-chan again, please…"

In the afternoon, three different performances were scheduled.

The sport club's football game was unbearably long. Actually, the game itself was rather short, but they needed three more players to have a decent game and Elizaveta not only yelled at the public for someone to get down there with them, but also decided to be picky about it. She refused Feliciano and Tino, as she had them since their arrival on her "uke we should keep away from masculine activities" list, Heracles, who didn't hold it against her as he fell asleep on the lawn until his Turkish roommate kicked him awake, Alfred, who might break the equipment and didn't know the difference between American football and every single other country in the world's football (AKA soccer), as well as Francis, because last time she had let him play he had gone on strike mid-game.

The rest of the club managed to negotiate the participation of Fausto, Antonio's brother, of Tim, who was Bella's, and of Young Soo who had pointed out that "football originated in Korea, daze~" and the game could finally begin.

After they picked the teams.

Because that was another issue. As Gilbert wanted to be against Eliza, but also with Antonio, Tim wanted nothing to do with the Hispanic brothers, Elizaveta was trying to get everyone to obey her, Logan, the Australian kid, was arguing with Gilbert about who was the best and Young Soo was messing around with the ball, there was some madness material. In the end, everybody calmed down when Ludwig started yelling at them for fifteen minutes and picked the teams himself.

So, there was on one side Elizaveta, Logan, Tim and Young Soo, and on the other Gilbert, Ludwig, Antonio and Fausto. And nobody as guardian. But at least the public was happy to see some football after so many shenanigans so nobody complained about the teams sizes. The players put on their numbered vests, the chronometer was started and the game began.

The score was almost a tie. They had excellent players in the club and nobody could surpass the others when it came to competitiveness. Or distraction techniques. For example Gilbert who would yell "I'M SO AWESOOOOOME" whenever he had the ball, and Young Soo who would grab every adverse boobs he could get his hands on and danced "gagman style" at every goal his team made. In the end, the germano-hispanic team won by chance when Gilbert managed kick the ball away from the goals and in the adversary one at the last second.

The whole school clapped when the teams shook hands. However, the albino did feel his fingers crack when Elizaveta grasped them. The Hungarian girl was miles away from enjoying defeat.

The swimming club's relay race was a lot shorter. Two teams of three students were fighting to see who would do six lengths first. And the best swimmers were obviously Elizaveta and Logan who didn't just give everything they got during the football game, but also truly made the competition spectacular.

Everything was done under the cheers of Rachelle, the team captain, a pretty little brunet with pigtails and tan skin, who categorically refused to put a foot in the water despite her role. And nobody knew why, except for the club members who had promised to keep it that way. That didn't keep her from making heads turn in the room. Nobody was even asking how she became the club's captain without ever swimming.

Tino, sitting in the second row between Berwald and Peter, leaned towards the younger boy to comment on the swimmers' performance. Worried about the lack of response, he turned to him and smiled fondly at how Peter didn't watch the race as much as he watched pretty Rachelle…

Lovino didn't want to go to the auditorium to see the music club's performance. Why? Because he was sick of everything. Really…

He was put to sleep by the narcoleptic guy. Okay.

His twin managed to go on without him and probably go find that fucking potato bastard even though he had come along for the sole purpose of him not meeting him. Not okay.

Plus, because of this dumb forced nap, he had woken up alone in the philosophy room, in the afternoon, with a note from Antonio saying "We're at the game. Come and see us when you wake up!", and signed with a smiling tomato.

So he was starving, alone, and didn't want to go watch a game, or the music club's show at the auditorium because looking at the time, the game had probably been over for a while…

Frowning, he got up and decided to go to the kitchen, to see if he could sneak out something to eat before dinner. He just hoped the cooking club had fucked off, especially the blond guy. That dude made him sick. If Lovino ever managed to be alone in a room with him, he would probably escape through the floor.

Walking down the hallway, he noticed the music room's lights were on while everyone was supposed to be at the concert. Curiously, he peeked through the half-open door. The room as empty, some idiot probably forgot to turn the lights off. But he didn't leave.

He looked left and right in the corridor to make sure nobody was around, then came in, feeling safer. The music room was quite large, with many storing units for the instruments. A large centimeters-tall platform was set before a dozen rostrum chairs. In a corner, a laptop was on and connected to two speakers, as well as several microphones, ready to be used.

Lovino thought in a hurry. Usually, the music room was always occupied by the students, or the music club. Unless there was a concert, like today. This was an opportunity that wouldn't present itself very often.

He again made sure that nobody, NOBODY, was in the corridor at the moment, and carefully closed the door. Then, he silent sat at the computer and looked around for a bit. There were many songs in instrumental versions so that the musicians didn't have to learn a new song every time someone felt like singing. There were all sorts of it, even from musicals or cartoons. Lovino waited for a second, hearing around for someone who walk in the corridor at that moment. Then he started a song he knew and ran to stand at the mics.

"Uno, due, tre…" he muttered. A south-american sounding melody flooded the room, slightly too loud for his taste but he didn't want to go and find out how to lower the volume. He started to sing, feeling more confident as the lyrics ran smoothly from his mouth.

"Non sono proprio adatto io

Adiventar un nuovo dio

Non assomiglio neanche a un cherubin..."

A smile formed on his face. Lovino loved to sing. And he wasn't bad at it. At least, he wanted to believe that. But he wasn't stupid to the point where he couldn't realize Feliciano, that adorable little angel everybody loved despite his happy ass face, was once again a lot better than him in that regard.

"Ora loro sono qui

In ginocchio, e per chi?

Non puo certo andar meglio di cosi..."

You just had to hear him sing a solo during miss Jones' class. He had a light, effeminate voice that fit almost every song, soft and happy, or melancholic and sad. He was ashamed when he had to sing after him.

"Più di cosi più di cosi più di cosi...

OH MIO DIO!

E' duro fare il dio

Osannato dal corteo

E questa è la loro verità."

He did not care anyway. Singing was for girls. Even if he liked it, he didn't want people to hear it, it would be humiliating. No, if he had to sing, it was to himself.

"Una vera devozione

E non finisce qua

E' piuttosto imbarazzante

Questa mia notorietà

Non posso rifutare

Devo proprio accettare

Se mi dicono sei un dio

Io lo saro!"

He sung the rest of the song, trying not to think about his brother. He rarely let himself enjoy things and it was already embarrassing enough without a public, he wasn't going to imagine himself in competition against the little marshmallow traitor he called his twin. When the music ended in a deafening roar of trumpets and drums, he went and set the laptop just the way he found it, bumping the microphones on the way. Nobody should know what he had d…

Elizaveta slightly waved at him from the room's door. Behind her, Roderich was absent-mindedly cleaning his glasses. Lovino blushed violently, so mortified he couldn't even try to think of an excuse. He just stood there, perfectly still, cheeks redder by the second. One might have wondered if he was still breathing. Worried, Elizaveta wanted to comfort him. "Don't worry, you have a beautiful singing voice, you know that?"

Lovino immediately went from scarlet to burgundy and ran away, bumping into the two spies who had just come pick up a violin bow for the concert.

Elizaveta had a small smile and looked down at her phone. Roderich went to get his precious little bow and glanced at the screen his girlfriend was watching. "You shouldn't have done that," he said, reprovingly.

"I could need it, someday," she quickly answered, putting the small device away.

The Austrian boy knew there was no talking her out of that kind of project. So he just took her hand and led her towards the auditorium.