"No."

"Oh, Lovino, come on! He needs a place to stay—"

Lovino pointed. "I'm not having that thing—" He jabbed his finger. "—in the living room!"

"Don't call Bruce a thing, Lovino!" Antonio wrapped a protective arm around Bruce. "That's rude!"

"It's a stuffed moose, Antonio! It literally is a fucking thing!"

Antonio pouted. "Aw, Lovino, look at Bruce's face! He'd be a great conversation starter, wouldn't he? We could hang our coats on his antlers, or… Lovino, look how cute he is!"

Bruce was not cute. Bruce was seven feet tall and a God damned monstrosity.

Lovino's lip curled. "He looks demented."

Antonio shrugged. "He's not the most attractive stuffed moose around, granted, but he's our stuffed moose."

"No, Antonio, he's not anyone's stuffed moose. Bring him back to where you fucking found him."

"Lovino—"

"Holy shit, Antonio, bring it back!"

Antonio made a pained face. Lovino knew the face well.

"Please tell me you didn't fucking buy this thing."

Antonio held up his hands. "Lovino, I can explain—"

Sometimes, Lovino wondered why he married this man. Sometimes, Lovino wondered if he would have married this man had he known about the fucking hoarding problem.

But he usually had to stop thinking about whether or not he would have married Antonio had he known about the fucking hoarding problem, because the answer was always 'yes.'

And that brought Lovino great shame.

"Get our fucking money back!"

"Lovino, Bruce was a steal! I couldn't not buy him!"

Lovino crossed his arms. "How much was he?"

"Twenty dollars, Lovino!" Antonio shook the moose. It rocked dangerously on its hooves. "Twenty dollars for a full-grown moose!"

Fuck, that was a pretty good deal, all things considered.

"Why does it look so…" Lovino searched for the word. "Fucked up?"

Antonio patted Bruce. "Well, I got him at a taxidermy place, and I guess they had an apprentice or something—it was really a favor for my aunt's second husband's cousin."

"Bill?"

"Apparently his apprentice was really bad at first. The moose was taking up space. Bill said it was bad for business."

"Why? Because it's so ugly?"

Antonio frowned. "Stop insulting Bruce, Lovino."

"I don't want Bill's apprentice's shitty moose, Antonio. Take it back."

Antonio's face broke. He sank to his knees. "Bill made me promise no-takebacks before he showed it to me."

"For fuck's sake, Antonio!" Lovino ran a hand over his face. "Fuck. Fuck, okay. Okay, we can keep him, but he's going in the basement—"

Antonio hopped up, eager as a dog. "Do you think he'll fit?"

"I wasn't finished! He most definitely will not fit in the fucking basement. You can keep him if he goes in the basement and you throw away some other shit to make room for him."

"Aw, Lovino—"

"I'm done talking about the fucking moose. Go throw some shit out, and come get me when you're ready to move him."

…

"Antonio, what the fuck!"

"I—"

"It's been three fucking hours, Antonio!"

Lovino descended into the Hell Pit. Dust hung in the air, and it smelled like a nursing home. Never would Lovino have dreamed his future house would have a room that smelled like a nursing home.

But such is life when your husband collected old people junk.

"Antonio, where are you? Fuck, we need a floodlight or some shit down here. Antonio?"

The Hell Pit had started as a corner. It was all the old people junk from Antonio's apartment: an old bowling ball, an iron, and a rusted cowbell.

But, like some sort of toxic mold, the corner had spread.

It morphed into a small cabinet. The cabinet became cramped and cluttered, the bowling ball falling off and smashing into the hardwood repeatedly. A second cabinet was in order.

Lovino realized there was a problem when half of the basement was full of bookshelves crammed with old shoes and packs of discontinued gum.

From out of the gloom, Lovino's husband appeared, covered in grease and sweat.

"What the fuck have you been doing for three hours? Bruce has been looking at me. I can feel it. It's creepy as shit."

Antonio's eyes were wide, and his shoulders were tense. "I can't decide what to throw out."

Lovino closed his eyes for a brief second. "Why?"

"It's all—they all have stories, Lovino!"

Lovino picked up a genie lamp. "What the fuck even is this?"

"A hookah."

"Can I summon a genie with it?"

"You can get high."

Lovino raised an eyebrow. "When was the last time you got high? No, I know the answer to that, because Gilbert got you that stupid vape and put a weed-cartridge in it. Throw this out."

"Lovino, it's a hookah—you can't just throw these out."

"Why not?"

Antonio didn't seem to have an answer. "Because it has a story." He looked lost.

"Oh?"

Antonio nodded. "It… Her name is Clo."

"Do you want to keep the moose, or do you not?"

Antonio stood straighter. "I can keep both. It's not only your house, Lovino."

"The basement was supposed to be a study." Lovino spread his arms as far as he could. "You turned the study into the Hell Pit, Antonio."

"The Hell Pit is a strong name."

"I don't care, that's what this is, and we're putting Bruce down here."

…

Feliciano practically kicked the door down. "Where is the baby?"

Lovino looked up from his puzzle. "What—"

Feliciano ran over to him and hugged him. But Lovino was still on the ground in front of the coffee table, so Feliciano more dived on him, knocking him backwards. Lovino slammed his knee into the table.

"Mother fucker!"

"The baby, Lovino! Where's the baby?!"

"What the shitting fuck are you talking about?!"

Feliciano pulled back. "Antonio said you have a son now!"

Lovino stared at Feliciano.

Feliciano stared back, grin huge on his face.

Slowly, the grin faded.

"Do… Do you not have a son?"

Lovino pushed Feliciano off of him and sat up. "He was talking about Bruce."

"What?"

"Antonio was talking about Bruce."

Lovino pointed.

Bruce had been positioned by the door, for the coats. When Feliciano had burst in, he had smashed the door into Bruce's nose and dented it.

It was an improvement.

Feliciano looked from Bruce to Lovino. "I'm confused."

Lovino crossed his legs and returned to his puzzle. "What else is new?"

"Lovino, why is there a moose in your house?"

"He is our son now."

Antonio has issues.