AN: someone asked in which time period this takes place. The answer: none in particular. The story is set in a nameless, faraway magical kingdom. Technology-wise, it'd be something like the Middle Ages. Of course, the society is very different, since neither Antonio nor Alice are nobles yet they can read... You know what, just don't think too much about it :P
Okay, now that we've (more or less) clarified that, let's proceed to the chapter!
Now (1)
Antonio wakes up to a wet pillow. He has dreamt with her again. Not one of those first dreams he had; no, this has been one of those dreams that make his heart ache. His cheeks are still humid from the tears and his head hurts. He doesn't want to get out of bed.
It's past noon when his mother practically drags him out and forces him to eat something. Always the same story.
"Antonio, sweetheart," his mother calls softly. He stops crumbling the bread that he isn't going to eat anyway and looks at her. She has that pitiful look on her face, as usual. "Honey, you can't go on like this."
He sighs. How many times have they had this conversation already? He knows how it goes.
"Mum, I—"
"No, Antonio, I mean it," she cuts him. "I know it was hard, but it's been seven years already. I think it's about time you get over it."
That's new: she has spoken with much more decision than Antonio remembers ever hearing from her. He still throws her a hurt look. She should know he's trying— doesn't she remember how he was for the first few months after the incident?
She sighs. "You need to leave it behind," she presses. "How about you go to town? You can start a new life there. Your brother is perfectly settled down, he can help you."
Antonio doesn't like the idea. He's safe in his village, he knows that, but how can he be sure that he won't meet her in town? It's highly unlikely, because Alice always said that she hates big crowds, but who knows. She also used to say that she loved him.
"Think about it, okay?" his mother asks kindly, reaching for him and caressing his cheek. "If you won't do it for yourself, at least do it for me."
Antonio closes his eyes and tries to fight the urge to cry. How can he say no to that?
He slowly nods and whispers a shaky "okay".
Merely thirty minutes later, however, he's deeply regretting it. His mother won't stop telling him what to do and where to go, giving him an advice he doesn't think he'll follow. He's barely listening anyway, just the necessary so he knows when to say "yes".
"You can move in with your brother for the first weeks, I'm sure he won't mind. Take one or two days to settle down and then look for a job; you're a skilled craftsman, they'll fight for you, you'll see. That will help you a lot, you need to keep yourself entertained and just stop overthinking. When you've made enough money, you can get your own house, and maybe start your own business— Oh! You'd be a wonderful luthier! Remember that guitar you made with your father when you were a kid? I can already see it: you'll become the best luthier of the whole town, and soon nobles and kings will be requiring your services, and—"
Antonio tunes her out completely. The last thing he needs is hearing his mother fantasize about his future— he gave up on it a long time ago. He sighs as he folds a couple of shirts and puts them in his backpack. When she said he'll be leaving tomorrow, he thought that was too rushed; now, however, he can't wait to leave and be left alone. He remembers the time when he craved human contact, when his biggest fear was being lonely. He misses it.
"Antonio? Are you listening to me?"
"Yes, mum, I am."
~{§}~
The first thing he has done has been checking in an inn. He doesn't want to be a bother, so he hasn't even told João that he's there. The farce won't last long, though, because his mother thinks he's with his brother and they usually write to each other. When they find out… He doesn't know what he'll do when they find out. He'll worry about that when the time comes.
"How long will you be staying?" the owner of the inn asks. He's tall and well-built, has golden, spiked hair, and a scar over his right eyebrow.
Antonio shrugs. "Uncertain."
The owner gives him a weird look, but since Antonio pays the first four days in advance, he doesn't comment anything. "There you go." He hands him a key. "My sister will guide you to your room— EMMA!"
Practically seconds after his scream, a woman appears by Antonio's side. She's young and pretty, but Antonio shivers when he sees she's blonde and green-eyed— just like Alice.
"Hi, I'm Emma," she introduces herself, smiling widely. "Come with me, I'll show you were you'll sleep."
He follows a bit reluctantly, silently cursing his luck. Out of all inns, he had to choose the one whose owner reminds him of Alice. However, it doesn't take long for him to realize that it's only the looks; personality-wise, they're opposites. Emma is cheerful and lovely, a bright smile constantly lighting up her face, and she chats with him about the most banal things. Antonio thinks that, many years ago, he would have found Emma very attractive. Now, however, she's just another passing human being in the nonsense of his life.
"Here it is," she informs as she opens the door to his room. It's not big, but neither small, and has just a bed, a small desk and a chair. "I hope you like it."
"Yeah, it's fine."
"If you need anything, don't hesitate to ask me," she says, winking playfully at him before leaving.
Antonio sighs, rubbing his forehead as he sits on the bed. He wonders for how long he should stay there until he can go back home and tell his mother that he's sorry, that he tried but he just isn't made for living in town —or until she discovers that he's not living with João—. A weak, at least, if he doesn't want his mother to kick him back— or worse, come with him. Two weeks? He doesn't know if he's going to be strong enough to hold that long. Pathetic, a little voice whispers in his head. Shut up, he replies weakly before lying down on the bed. He isn't sleepy, but he wants to sleep.
Sometimes he wishes that he won't wake up afterwards.
~{§}~
It's the fourth day since Antonio arrived in town. It's also the first day he has left the inn. If it only depended on him, he wouldn't have; but he doesn't feel very comfortable there. Not since Emma flirts with him at every chance she has. At first it was so subtle that Antonio barely noticed, but with every passing day it has grown more and more direct, and it makes Antonio uncomfortable. It got even worse when Vincent —Emma's brother— witnessed one of Emma's flirtatious moves and since then wouldn't stop glaring at him. So Antonio has decided to go out for a while, with the hope that all of them will cool down in his absence.
He has been wandering around for a while already. The town is colourful and full of life, and he knows that, had his circumstances been different, he would be enjoying it. But right now all he can think about is that the forest in which Alice and him used to meet is much better.
He's walking by the narrowest, darkest alleys when he hears what sounds like a brawl coming from one of them. Not much later, the noises stop and a group of four people emerge from behind the old houses, clapping their shoulders, smiling and laughing, congratulating each other's blows. Antonio watches them as they walk past him and makes sure they're out of sight before going into the alley where they came from. He can't help it— curiosity has always been one of his biggest traits.
He hears the man before he sees him. In fact, the curses that reach his ears are what guide him to where the clear loser of the fight is sat against a wall, his face and clothes stained with blood and dirt. When he hears Antonio's footsteps, he looks at him with a pair of fiery red eyes.
"Have you come to finish what they started?" he asks, surprisingly calm.
Antonio shakes his head slowly, more interested in the man before him than in anything else. He's paler than anyone he's ever met before, and despite his young-looking face, his hair is as grey as an old-man's. Not to mention his eyes— his fierce, dark-red eyes. He never thought that there could possibly be people with that eye-colour.
"What are you looking at? Is there something on my face?"
"Sorry," Antonio apologizes, moving towards him and offering his arm to help him stand. "Are you alright?"
The albino snorts. "What does it look like?" He takes Antonio's help anyway, letting out a pained grunt as he stands. "At least my nose wasn't broken this time," he mutters, running his hands over his face to check his wounds.
"This time? Does this happen often?"
"Well, you must be new around here," the man says mockingly. "Beating up Gilbert is the town's gangs' favourite sport, didn't you know?"
Antonio, half-way through taking out a handkerchief to lend him, stares at him shocked, unable to understand how he can say words like those so casually. "But— but why?" he asks, stunned.
"Because I'm a weirdo," is Gilbert's simple answer. "A freak. A mistake of nature. Want more? I've heard plenty." He grabs the handkerchief and uses it to wipe the blood off his face. "Of course, my personal theory is that they're just jealous of my awesomeness. What's your name, by the way?"
They formally introduce themselves, and as they shake hands, Antonio decides that he likes Gilbert. He's different from any other person he has ever met.
"What brought you here?" Gilbert asks. "I'd like to know what makes a man move into this shithole."
"Oh, just— stuff," Antonio answers, shrugging.
"Stuff? What kind of—?"
BOOM‼
Before Gilbert can finish his question, a loud explosion comes from the inside of one of the nearest houses. Both of them jump, startled, as the glass of the windows is blown away, and some parts of the roof catch fire, and a thick, dark smoke begins to rise from the house. Soon, a man comes out, coughing and with tears in his eyes.
"I was so close…" he laments. "So close!"
Then he realizes that he isn't alone and waves at them, smiling widely as if he hadn't just set fire to his house. His blonde hair, despite being held by a ribbon, is messy, and it's covered in ashes; also, his smoke-irritated eyes aren't as strikingly blue as they would have otherwise been.
"My apologies, gentlemen," he says, pointing at the mess that used to be his house, "but I'm afraid my experiment went horribly wrong— again." He then seems to notice Gilbert's bloodstained clothes. "Oh, I'm sorry— I didn't interrupt a brawl, did I?"
"No," both of them answer at the same time.
"I didn't interrupt… something else either, right?" he asks, suggestively wiggling his eyebrows up and down.
"What— no!" they yell together once again; although Gilbert doesn't sound too scandalized, and Antonio is more offended by the fact that someone would dare to think that he'd do anything with someone who isn't Alice —even if the man doesn't even know that Alice exists—.
"Oh, alright."
The three of them just stay there for a while, alternately looking from one to another in complete silence until the blond breaks it:
"You guys wanna go get some drinks?"
Gilbert immediately agrees, and Antonio doesn't see a reason to say no.
~{§}~
It has taken them a while to find a tavern from which they won't be kicked out because of Gilbert. The blond, who has introduced himself as Francis, pays for the first round. According to him, it's to make up for almost blowing them away, and while neither Antonio nor Gilbert care about that, they still accept the offer. Both of them have been taught to accept anything that's free.
"So what exactly were you doing?" Gilbert asks once they're all sat with a drink in their hands. "I mean, to blow up your house."
"Oh, just an experiment." Francis waves his hand nonchalantly, sipping his drink, and nods when a curious Antonio asks is he's an alchemist.
"And how many times have you blown up buildings?" Gilbert keeps asking, mockingly.
"… four," is Francis' whispered reply.
Gilbert bursts out laughing and Antonio, too, chuckles at that. Francis doesn't seem to be offended at all; actually, he ends up laughing with them.
As the afternoon slowly turns into evening, the three of them talk and laugh and drink. It's been a long time since Antonio has laughed —or even smiled— like that. Even though their personalities differ quite a lot, he finds himself enjoying his time with Francis and Gilbert. The blond ignores them every once in a while to flirt with whatever woman happens to be walking by their side; and the albino seems to take every chance he has to praise himself ("Hey, if I'm going to be the only one who says nice things about myself, I might as well do it awesomely!"). They're definitely outlandish, and also the reason why Antonio suddenly thinks that maybe coming to town wasn't a bad idea after all.
Soon they have had one too many drinks. Francis begins to tell them about his experiments, using words that none of his listeners understand; later, inevitably, he ends up talking about women.
"I was with this amazing girl once," he says with a dreamy gaze. "Jeanne. She liked alchemy too, and she used to tell me the most interesting things."
"Like?"
"Like— did you know that apple and pear seeds can kill you?"
"No way," Gilbert snorts.
"It's true! They have a substance that turns into cyanide in your body." He stops for a moment to take a long swallow of his drink. "Of course, it'd take like fifty of them to kill a grown-up man— but they can kill you, it's my point."
"Why did you break up with Miss Know-It-All?"
"Well," Francis chuckles, "I think she didn't like that I set her house on fire."
For the next few minutes, all that can be heard is Gilbert's loud, eccentric laugh. Francis punches him, albeit weakly, and wakes up to grab a few more drinks. When he comes back, Gilbert practically launches himself over him to snatch one of the jars and drinks avidly. Laughing sure makes him thirsty.
"Now that you're done laughing at my disgrace," Francis says after a while, "how about you tell us about your love life?"
"Me?" he snorts. "Unfortunately, there's no one who deserves my awesomeness," he says smugly; but then he sinks a little in his chair and adds: "Really, though: do you think anyone would sink low enough to date me?"
Francis shrugs. "I bet my left arm that there's someone you're mildly interested in, even if they're not interested in you."
To their utter surprise, Gilbert blushes at those words. It's very faint, but his skin is so pale that there's no way to hide it.
"Ah, looks like I get to keep my arm," the blond chuckles. "So who's the lucky lady?"
"Her name's Elizabeta," he mumbles. "She's awesome— not as much as I am, but pretty close. But I can't have her because she's engaged to a shithead called Roderich."
"Such a tragic love story." Francis wipes a fake tear from his eye. "You know what you should do? Wait for their wedding, and when the priest says: If anyone has an objection why this man and this woman should not be wed, speak now or forever hold your peace; you interrupt them and confess your love to her; then the two of you run away and get married somewhere else and start a new, wonderful life together!"
Gilbert looks at Francis, blinking slowly, as if he's trying to process everything the other has just said. A few moments later, he smirks. "Nah, forget it, man. I've already accepted that I'll die alone." He clearly doesn't like being the attention focus —when it comes to that particular topic, obviously—, so he turns to speak to the one that hasn't said a single word since the topic was brought up. "What about you, Antonio? Are you married?"
Antonio stiffens at the question. He glances from the table to Gilbert, from Gilbert to Francis, and from Francis to the table again. "I was," he finally whispers.
None of them miss the deep sorrow in his voice, and they realize a bit too late that they've touched a rather sensitive topic.
"Not anymore?" Francis asks softly, curious nonetheless.
"Shit happened; she left," Antonio mumbles before downing what's left of his drink.
"Where is she now?"
He shrugs. "I don't know. But I've missed her for seven years already."
"Seven years?" Gilbert whistles. "That's more than enough time to get over it! Seven fucking years… Dude," he states, "you need to get laid."
Antonio lets out a snort that wants to resemble a laugh. If Gilbert had known Alice like he did, he wouldn't think seven years is enough time to get over her— she was just too overwhelming, too perfect. Thankfully, Francis —who's much more tactful than Gilbert— is quick to bring up another topic. Soon, the laughing resumes and the previous chat is forgotten.
~{§}~
It's late when the three of them leave the bar, stumbling and colliding against the walls. Gilbert, who has proven to be quite resistant to alcohol, is in the middle, supporting Francis' whole weight and occasionally grabbing Antonio when he's about to fall.
"We should do this another time," Francis yawns against Gilbert's shoulder. "It was fun."
"I can't promise that the next time I'll walk you home like now," the albino warns, snickering. "If there's a next time, at least know when to stop drinking."
"I never know when to stop."
"I'd say that the appropriate moment is when you start to flirt with a coat rack."
"… did I do that?"
"Twice."
"Oh."
After a moment of silence, Francis begins to laugh and is soon followed by Gilbert. Antonio joins after a while. He has to admit that he has enjoyed himself. The men that walk by his side are odd and eccentric, in a good way, and he's surprised that he's got to know them so well in just one night.
Gilbert has a little brother who he loves above anything else, even though he never tells him. He likes sausages and beer. He fancies a moderately wealthy girl who's engaged to a disgustingly rich lord. He has a pet canary named Gilbird. He has been mocked and bullied since he was little for his outlandish skin colour. He doesn't have a proper job, so he helps with the chores at home and tries to earn money at every chance he has because he hates feeling useless. His self-praising attitude is nothing more than a mask that hides insecurities he's not allowed to show. Despite everything, he doesn't lose his joy towards life— although there's a lot of alcohol involved in that.
Francis is a hopeless romantic who dreams of finding true love— but still flirts with any woman —and man— at any chance he has. He cares about his appearance more than he admits. He's also a brilliant alchemist who can tell apart thirty-six chemicals just by the smell; and another couple of dozens if colour is involved. He's refined and well-mannered, yet he can drop some of the bawdiest jokes Antonio has ever heard. He has a younger brother to whom he's not blood-related, but he couldn't care less about that— he loves him deeply anyway. He has some sort of sixth sense and somehow always knows what to say to make others feel better. Life hasn't always treated him well, but he's a genuinely good person who cares about others more than himself.
They finally reach the alley in which they have met merely hours before. Francis suddenly stops his monologue about inner beauty versus looks when he recognizes the place. Then he looks up. "Oh, crap," he laughs drunkenly. "I forgot I blew up my house."
Antonio and Gilbert look at each other before they, too, burst out laughing. The brunet awkwardly pats Francis' shoulder, babbling something like "you can still live there; you'll only be in trouble if it rains".
"You can come to my place," Gilbert offers, hiccupping. "I'm sure Ludwig won't mind. And if he does— fuck him, I'm the older sibling."
"That so niiiiiiiiice," Francis launches himself over Gilbert and hugs him, tears in his eyes, and Antonio can't help but wonder if he's always that melodramatic or it's just that he's way too drunk.
"I don't think you'll be allowed to stay for long, though."
"Tis okay. I'll ask Mathieu to take me in for a while."
"Just try not to burn down his house," Antonio jokes, earning a hurt look from a pair of clouded blue eyes.
"Very well, let's go!" Gilbert grabs Francis by the hip and pulls him closer, throwing the blond's arm over his shoulder. They walk —or rather, Gilbert walks and drags Francis with him— for a few meters before they stop and turn to look at Antonio. "You'll be okay on your own, right?" the albino asks.
"Sure." He's not really sure that he'll manage to find his way back to the inn, but he trusts his luck. "Good night, guys."
"Night."
"Sleep tight, 'Tonio! You beautiful human being, you! I love you! You're great and wonderful and lovely and—!"
Before Francis wakes up the whole neighbourhood by proclaiming his undying love for Antonio, Gilbert starts walking and drags him away.
Once again, Antonio is alone.
~{§}~
He's wandering around the empty streets. He's not lost, not really, because he doesn't care where he is. All he cares about is that the world is quiet and peaceful and, for once, his thoughts are silent as well. The alcohol must have played its part, that's for sure, but it feels so good that he doesn't mind at all. He'd drink all he can stand and more if it meant that this inner peace would be permanent.
After some time, however, he begins to think about Alice. There's something different this time, though: he's not sad or depressed, or at least not as much as he used to. No, he's approaching the subject in a much more objective way. He wonders what would his life be now if things had happened differently. If they would still be happy together had certain events never occurred. Is she happy somewhere else with someone else or does she miss him as much as he misses her? How would she react if they met again? How would he react?
He's pulled out of his thoughts when a small body crashes against him. Surprised, he looks down and sees a little kid, not older than eight, who returns his gaze. Antonio is shocked. What is he doing alone at night? Is he running away from home? Is he lost?
The kid mumbles an apology, dodges him and goes on, not even looking at him twice.
"H-Hey, wait!" Antonio calls and runs after him. He stumbles and curses the alcohol that's still in his body. "Wait!" He finally catches the kid, who looks at him with an annoyed frown. "Are you lost or something? Can I help you?"
The boy shakes his head. He doesn't seem to be the talkative type— or perhaps he's been taught not to talk with strangers. Either way, Antonio is a bit lost. The kid is different from any other child he has ever met, there's something odd about him, and he doesn't know how to react. On the one hand, the boy doesn't seem to need —or want— his help; on the other hand, letting a kid go on his own at night doesn't sound very sensible. Not that he trusts himself to look after a child, being intoxicated as he is. Fortunately, he's saved from having to take a decision.
"Alexander!" someone calls, and the child instantly runs to the man that's walking towards them. "Alexander, how many times have I told you to stay by my side?! You know it's dangerous to go on your own!" the man scolds. Then he looks at Antonio. "Thanks for finding him—" he stops abruptly.
Because of the low light, Antonio can barely see the other man's face, but he seems to look at him with eyes wide open; it's only for a brief moment, so brief that Antonio thinks that he must have been tricked by the alcohol, because almost immediately the man is frowning.
"You're welcome," Antonio mutters, not sure of what's going on. "Is he your son?"
"Yes."
The light is poor and Antonio can barely see the man's face. There's something odd about him, but the alcohol clouds his mind and he doesn't know what it is.
"Alexander, we're going. Come."
"Yes, Papa."
The kid grabs his father's hand and they walk away. The man is walking so fast that his son has to run to keep up. Antonio watches them leave and, for some reason, he feels some sort of déjà vu, like he's lived something similar before, but he quickly rejects the thought. He'd remember clearly if he had met such a peculiar kid. Alexander. The word echoes in his mind. That's a beautiful name. He suddenly feels like crying.
After the accidental meeting, Antonio doesn't feel like resuming his stroll, so he heads back to the inn. He gets lost once or twice, turning left one street before he should or forgetting to turn right at some point, but it doesn't take him long to get back.
He stumbles inside the inn. The hall is empty— of course, normal people are asleep that late in the night. However, a light catches his eye, and he follows it to find Emma behind the counter. She's pouring herself a drink.
"Oh, I thought you were already back," she throws an apologetic smile at him. "Otherwise, I wouldn't be doing this so carelessly."
"You are not allowed to drink?" he asks, walking towards her and sitting on one of the tall stools.
"Clients don't really like seeing their hosts drinking, or that's what my brother says." She takes a sip and offers the bottle to Antonio. "Would you like some?"
"Thank you, but no," he smiles. "I'm afraid I've already had more than enough."
"Really?" She raises an eyebrow, skeptical. "It doesn't look like it. I'd say you're just a bit tipsy."
He just shrugs and asks if he can have a glass of water instead. Emma immediately serves it. They soon engage in a pleasant conversation: Antonio tells her about Francis and Gilbert, and she seems to be genuinely happy for him. She mentions that he does look happier than when he arrived; Antonio doesn't know how to take that.
After Emma has downed a few glasses, she unconsciously begins to flirt with him again. At first, Antonio is tempted to get up and flee to his room. However, Gilbert's words from before echo in his head. Dude, you need to get laid. Can he do it? He knows that he's not ready to start a new relationship —actually, he thinks he'll never be—, but can he just have sex with someone who's almost a stranger? Can he spend one night with Emma and ignore the heartache?
He decides that yes, he can. In a dark room and with the alcohol slightly numbing his brain, he can easily pretend that his bed-mate is another green-eyed blonde. Besides, it has been so damn long since he last slept with someone, and he misses waking up with a warm body by his.
So when Emma holds his hand and intertwines their fingers, he doesn't pull away. When Emma leans over the counter and kisses him, he kisses back. When Emma gets up and guides him to her room, he follows without a doubt.
Even if it's just for tonight, he wants to try and forget about everything.
AN: for some reason I always have the BTT getting drunk together. I just love them a lot~ Anyway, hoped you liked it; reviews are widely appreciated! ;)
PS: happy birthday, you know who :D
