Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.

A/n1: Over 1,500 reviews! Wowzah! That's amazing, you guys! Thank you so much for all the comments and feedback and love and support and what-not, it makes me very happy – and it keeps me motivated! ^^ Thanks, once again!

A/n2: I'll be getting a car in a few more days, probably (depends on my dad and his car-loving connections). I can't keep on driving my parents' cars forever (two crappy ones, mind you), after all – it's time for me to get myself my own car, so I can use it to drive to school and my work. Also: one step closer to independency. Yay!
I'm pretty anxious about it, though. A car is expensive! I hope I can afford it, to buy and keep a car…
I'm thinking about getting a Matiz. Because they are cute and because my parents can't stop rambling about how much it fits my personality.
Well, okay. XDDDDDDDD

A/n3: Instead of a saying, how about some nice tongue-twisters? You know you want to know it. YES YOU DO, YOU DO.
I'll give you three:
1: Als de potvis op de pot pist, zit de pispot vol met potvispis (translation: when the cachalot (YES, a CACHALOT) pisses on the piss-potty, the piss-potty is filled with cachalot-piss).
As you can see – the Dutch version is a lot harder than the translated version, because we call a cachalot a potvis (a "pot-fish"), which makes it harder to follow it up with words like piss and pot. A tricky one, but do-able.
2: De knappe kapper kan knap knippen, maar de knecht van de knappe kapper kan knapper knippen dan de knappe kapper knippen kan (translation: the handsome hairdresser can cut handsomely, but the help of the handsome hairdresser can cut more handsomely than the handsome hairdresser can cut).
Easy to pronounce, really – just be Dutch and you'll be fine. And yet, still very impressive because of all the k's and the amount of words. They make it seem like this sentence is very hard to pronounce. It isn't. Trust me.
3: De koetsier poetst de postkoets met postkoetspoets (translation: the coachman polishes the mail-coach with mail-coach-polish).
THE MOST EVIL TONGUE-TWISTER OF ALL TIME.
I can't pronounce this one perfectly. I can't even form the words in my HEAD perfectly. Why? Because of the oe's and the p's and the s'es and the poe/koe combinations.
And now you may read on. *waves*

~~ And Three Makes Five ~~

Chapter 75:

Parents. Honestly. Sometimes they really do think the world resolves around them.
Randa Abdel-Fattah
(Australian writer)

'Luisa. Your phone. It's, you know. Ringing.'

Seb was sharp as ever as he pointed to my cell phone. The both of us stared at the mean, electronic thing of douchebaggery like it had just brutally murdered a very nice and cozy moment between us.

Which actually was the truth. Hence I didn't want to answer it.

It probably was Alejo anyway – that nosy, dorky sibling of mine that always called on moments he should just lay low already, dammit – and I'd rather make myself some tea – naked – than that I'd answer that lousy excuse for an older brother.

'Ignore it,' I therefore told Seb. 'It's Alejo and I really don't feel like talking to Alejo right now.'

'It could be important though,' Seb said as he took my phone from the nightstand anyway, like an inconsiderate, persistent asshole, and looked on the screen. 'Or, well, somebody else.'

'Somebody else? Who is it, then? Matteo?'

'No, Venetia.' He tilted his head a bit. 'That's the daughter of that doctor, right? You already put her name in your phone? That's fast.'

'That's because I'm secretly gay and having an intense sexual affair with Venetia, and that's what you do when you have intense sexual affairs with girls called Venetia – you put their name in your cell phone.' I rolled with my eyes, got back on the bed and held out my hand. 'Now give it to me, you paranoid butt-munch.'

'…okay, maybe I kind of deserved that,' Seb admitted and gave me back my phone, looking a bit ashamed.

'You can make it up with me by making me some tea,' I informed him.

'Naked?'

'Naturally.'

'I can do that,' Seb nodded. He put the book to the side and got out of bed, and believe me, I really wanted to take a good seat and admire the nice view for a bit – but I happened to accidentally press the green yea-I'll-answer-this-call-button already, so I couldn't. Well, at least not as much and as dreamily as I had wanted to.

…

But anyway.

'Hello? Venetia?' I started.

'Hi Luisa!' Venetia's voice rang into my ears, followed by loud traffic-noises on the background.'I just called to tell you that I've landed a few minutes ago, and after I've found my baggage in this horrible mess they call an airport, I'll be coming your way, ASAP.'

I blinked. 'You're… speaking Spanish. Fluently, even.'

'Oh, I didn't tell you? My Spanish's actually very good, since I've been blessed with an intellectual gift since birth. I'm so insultingly smart and quick-witted, it could be considered a crime in a couple of countries, and in cyberspace, and in District 13.'

…huh.

'Ah. And here I was, thinking you probably went on lots of vacation trips to Spain with your parents,' I joked.

'You can't teach yourself an entire language in just a couple of holidays. You didn't teach yourself an entire language by going on holidays to Italy, either. You must be aware of that by now.'

'…I know, I was just kidding.'

'It wasn't funny.'

'…uh…'

'Anyway, I think I'll be at your place in about… two, three hours. Okay?'

'If I tell you "no, that's not okay", does it even matter?'

'Nope, I'll be there anyway, regardless of what you say. So you better get dressed and make some Spanish-themed lunch for me, because I'm starving, and oh my, that's a pretty hot Spanish guy over there!'

'Venetia, I—'

'I'm sorry, Luisa, but I got to go now – hot Spanish guy is trying to TAKE MY BAG – that's MINE, you thieving yet shockingly handsome piece of TRASH – HEY!'

End of call.

…

Her things were being nicked. I guess that's karma for you.

'Was that it?' Seb, standing in the kitchen (that's the bright side of living in an apartment that's way too tiny and cramped up: everything and Seb's naked ass is really close-by) looked over his nude shoulder, a bit puzzled. 'That was fast. What did she say?'

'Well—'

But I couldn't finish; I was interrupted by my ringtone once again, because there was yet another phone call incoming.

'Maybe that Italian know-it-all forgot something,' I said and answered it – in Spanish, since she thinks she's so great and all. 'Hey, uhm, everything alright? Did you manage to assault that handsome piece of trash?'

A gasp. ''What! I NEVER assault my girlfriend, I love her TENDERLY!'

I groaned. 'Alejo.'

'And for Pete's sake, Lulu, you sure like to badmouth my girl, don't you? I mean, yeah, I know she has a trashy style of clothing, but that doesn't mean she's a trashy person!'

'I wasn't fucking talking about your trashy girlfriend that actually isn't trashy, I was expecting another call. But whatever.' I sighed and sat back. 'You got me now, so I guess I could talk to you. What's up?'

'Okay.' Alejo breathed in deeply, then breathed out… um… just as… deeply, I guess. 'You better sit down, Lulu. And hold on to something. And be thankful that your super-stylish brother has a very big and forgiving heart for calling you once again.'

'I thank God for the miracle that is your goodness every night. Now get on with it.'

'I think they were them.'

'You already lost me.'

'That gay couple I was talking about yesterday? A twenty-something guy that looked just like me and a twenty-something guy that also in a way seemed to look a lot like me?'

'Sounds about right, yes?'

'I think they were them.'

'You can repeat that sentence as many times as you want, Alejo, but it won't make me—'

'I think they were our parents, Luisa!'

'What?' I now actually did what he had ordered me to do beforehand and grabbed the side of the bed. I never told Alejo that our biological parents were most-likely a gay couple – neither did I ever tell him they looked like "people" from around our age. Come to think about it, I hadn't told neither Alejo nor Matteo anything about my quest so far yet.

'Now don't laugh at me yet, like that dense moron Teo did last night!' Alejo went on in a hasty voice. 'I know it sounds crazy, and-and I know you might think it's just one of my weird imaginations again, but I'm not joking here or trying to screw you over – I really think those people are our parents – I kind of recognized their voices – they called each other… c-called each other…'

'Y-yes?' I stammered, gripping my cell phone.

'Cherie!~'

'…they called each other cherry?'

'Nonon, I'm talking to Luisa – yes, oui oui, ma petite sissy! De Lulu! Oui! Non, tu look very hot today… oh god, yes, that's a VERY nice dress. Oui, beacoup de pretty. Je t'aime, Aimee!~ Oui!~ A oui oui! La vache qui—'

'ALEJO.'

'Oh! Sorry, got sidetracked – but man, so would you if you could see her in a summerdress. Hot DAYUM.'

I sighed. 'Alejo, just tell me the rest of your story, please – about those people? You know, our would-be parents and the nicknames they had for each other? Or petnames, for all I car—'

'Papa Lovi and Papa Toni.'

The last letters of the word I had wanted to say to my brother got stuck in my throat.

'That's right! You better be making choking noises!' Alejo sounded really full of himself when he continued. 'I got the exact same reaction from Matteo when I told him this, and let me tell you, it felt great to see that unbelieving smile disappear from his face – that'll teach that flower-sniffing dweeb!'

I didn't really listen to what he rambled on about – all I could hear were those two nicknames, echoing through my mind.

Papa Lovi and Papa Toni. Papa Lovi and Papa Toni. Papa Lovi and Papa Toni.

'Papa Lovi and Papa Toni know.'

Fucking hell.

Alejo was right.

It had been them.

It fucking had been them.

It fucking had been them all along and Alejo even got to SEE THEM!

'I didn't only get to see them – I talked a bit with them as well!' Alejo instantly corrected me when I confronted him with this.

My jaw hit the floor – well, it felt like it did. 'No way. NO FUCKING WAY. You TALKED to them?'

'Yup!'

'Wh-what did you say, what did you tell them?'

'Um.'

'Well?'

'I… asked them what kind of bocadillos they'd like to eat. And I told one of them that wanted to become the best butcher of Barcelona one day.'

'…wow. That's… wow. You see our dads after all these years, and that's what you say?'

'Hey, I met them during my work, remember?' Alejo instantly defended himself. 'And besides, I didn't know they could be my parents – I only realized when I heard them comment on how they would call themselves if they ever became parents!'

'...so it's true. They have forgotten that they actually are parents already.'

Alejo groaned. 'Look, Luisa, don't start whining about the "there you have it, they don't care about us, ohh, they even forgot us, boohoo" –crap again, okay? I think it's better if the three of us get together and talk about this – like YOU didn't want to, yesterday evening. I mean, two young guys as our parents… you think they've adopted us as well? But if that's true, then why didn't they ever age? Also, then who are our REAL real parents? Or am I just going crazy here?'

'No.' I shook my head. 'That couple you met ARE our real parents, Alejo. I know. And so do you, if you're honest to yourself.'

'B-but how—!'

'I… made some discoveries about our parents. And what you told me about them – it just seems to fit right in. Everything's starting to click, you know? So… look, just… just come to my and Seb's place. You and Matteo – send him a message or whatever. I'll explain you everything once you get here.'

Alejo snorted. 'And what if I'M too busy, huh? What do you do then?'

'I'll just wear ugly, shitty clothes for the rest of my life, and only during YOUR important life-events.'

'Hell is filled with people like you.'

I smirked. 'Yes or no, Allie?'

'Fine, FINE – I'll contact Teo and I guess we'll be coming over in a bit,' Alejo gave in. 'But it better be some good information you have, Lulu!'

'Don't worry.' I rested a hand on Tosca's book and smiled. 'It is.'

Shortly after, I ended my call with Alejo and hung up, stretching my arms a bit. I should get dressed soon, I guess…

'So I heard you're planning to invite pretty much your entire family here,' Seb all of a sudden said – he apparently had walked over to the bed again, with the tea, and had a very disgruntled look on his face.

'Sorry.' I smiled cutely – well I hope it was cutely – at him and took the tea from him. 'But it's important. Alejo saw our parents, you see? And now I want to share the information I have collected about them with him and Matteo as well, so that we can… you know, take action and stuff. Oh, that reminds me – I should call off the gynecologist for today as well. I'll try to make an appointment for later this week, I guess…'

'I understand,' Seb said as he sat back in bed and pulled the book closer to him, 'and it's fine by me, in case you wondered.'

'Thank you,' I gratefully told him – but frowned when I noticed he wasn't giving me the idea he'd put on some clothes himself as well very soon.

'Um… Seb?'

'Hm-hm?'

'Uh… you DO realize… that there will be people all over the place here in about a couple of hours, right?'

'I'm perfectly aware of that.'

'Then—'

'For today, I had originally planned to stay in bed and read this book. Then your appointment with the gynecologist and Venetia's call made me change my plans. But then Alejo's call made me realize that my original plan actually was great.'

'…so you're… going to stay in bed and read.'

'Naked.'

'Naked, too?!'

'Yup.'

'But everybody will – you – um – Seb!'

'I'll get dressed as soon as I've read this book.' He flipped a page and made himself comfortable. 'Oh, look at that, only 450 pages left.'

…

…

Seb never got really angry or mad at me when he was pissed about something I had done or arranged without discussing it with him, first – he just took revenge by doing really weird stuff, with a completely straight face, which was just as annoying as it was comical. Like staring at me for a very long time with a funny hat on his head. Or taking showers with his swimming trunks on – and a diving mask. Or sleeping with his head on the foot end. Strange shit like that.

Yelling or nagging at him didn't help – the only thing I could do now was accept his silliness and hope he'd read through that doorstopper like a whirlwind. Who knows, maybe I was lucky and was, say, his biological father a really quick reader!

R-right?

RSS

It was so very strange.

Yesterday morning, I was dwelling around in my own misery, pitying my existence and feeling worthless about everything that I wasn't, but could have been. I was at the very top of my depression, ready to kill myself off at the first (and last) opportunity that life would give me, right after I had atoned for my sins.

I had prepared a whole suicide-device, even.

…

Okay, I tied a rope to a beam and put an old chair below it – that was my suicide-device. Not exactly flashy. But still. It would have been enough to put an end to my meaningless life.

And I was going to do it, too. All I had left to do was destroy the items that had spied on my neighbors for years and then, it was end of story for me. I'd be joining my mother in Heaven, or Hell, or wherever they'd put her, and I was completely fine with it.

Of course, then Spain tricked/blackmailed me into talking to his and his husband's florist in their place, and even though I had originally planned to obediently do what I had promised Spain, I almost went and killed myself anyway, simply because I didn't see why I shouldn't rid myself from the world. Sure, Spain wouldn't have been happy with it, but by that time, I think I'd be too busy being dead and all to really care about that.

But just when I wanted to do it, when I wanted to end it all, he came.

The florist. Who turned out to be Spain and South Italy's son.

Matteo.

Matteo was one of the few friends I had ever had, until he and his siblings disappeared after the Child Catastrophe. I thought I'd never see him again – but now, here he was again, cute and dorky and sweet as always. He had grown up into a very good-looking, responsible young man and father, even, and although he had suffered from the loss of his fiancée and his daughter's mother, he was happy, optimistic, kind and supportive.

Even though he didn't know me (anymore), he was very friendly with me, taking interest in me and making me feel extremely uncomfortable and fluffy from the inside. It was nice being with him, being called by my name by him, being helped out by him.

And so, in just one mere day, in those few hours he and his funny daughter had been in my life, I suddenly felt like a whole other person.

…

I know it sounded ridiculous. I really do. And I'm not saying my depression just… flew away like that, after having met up with Matteo – oh, no, certainly not. I still felt bad and empty. I still thought nothing really mattered to me. I still didn't feel like eating or jumping around in the fields outside.

But I did continue the cleaning task Matteo and I had started the day before.

And that… well, that… that says something, right?

I took the garbage outside, I threw the old and broken plates and cups in the thrash as well and I promised myself to buy myself a new, neat dinner-set later this week. Oh, and to go look for a job to get money to be able to buy myself some new, neat dinner-set. I had almost run out on the money my mother had left me, so I couldn't afford too many incidental purchases anymore.

I spent most of the morning finishing the cleaning of yesterday, and by the time I sat down at the refreshed kitchen table and rewarded myself with a glass cold lemonade, I could look around the place and actually be a bit… a bit proud of myself, for pulling this off. Matteo had started and done most of it yesterday, I know, but I had finished it, and for some reason, that was very good of me. It felt like a really good thing, let me put it like that.

I had even put the rope and the old chair away.

…

Well, I couldn't just leave them there, in the middle of the living room. So I stashed both the rope and the chair away in the old shelter next to the house and then kind of chucked away the key.

That was better than burning it to the ground, after all.

…

And now…

…

Now what?

Right, so I had decided to try and live, for a change. That was fine. I could live with that – oh! I even made puns already, haha!

But what was I supposed to do with…

A: …Matteo?

B: …the appointment I had to make with Matteo?

C: …the date I had promised to have with Matteo?

D: …my plan to efficiently and painlessly cut Matteo out of my life and push him and his siblings right into the arms of his parents, who happened to live right next door?

…

Point D contradicted point A to C a bit.

Just a bit.

…

Okay, a LOT, ugh, man, what was I supposed to do – why did I go and tell Matteo I'd love to go on a date with him while I really wanted to bring him and his family back together again? I needed to stick with my priorities, for crying out loud!

To think! Man! I acted like I was in love or something! And that was impossible, because I was hollow and empty from inside.

I had thought about it and I had come to the following conclusion: yes, I had some basic feelings here and there, sure, but they were all dulled out and had been trampled upon, so experiencing genuine emotions was too hard to handle for me right now. Those weird shocks and sparks that shot up my spine every time I thought of Matteo? A clear sign of my messed-up inner state of mind. Obviously. No wonder that I, yesterday, for a split-second, thought that I was… that I…

But I wasn't, because I couldn't. Long story short. Yes.

I still really wanted to go on a date with him, though. Why was that?

I wanted to muse some more about this confusing subject, but I was interrupted when someone rang the doorbell.

Oh! Oh! Maybe it was Matteo! Maybe he had left something here! Goodie!

I jumped up from my seat and almost ran to the door, barely being able to hold in my excitement as I stammered that I was opening the door – don't leave yet, I'm here, I'm here! Just give me a minute!

…and then I could just feel my rapidly built-up joy inflate in a second, the very moment I looked into the not-hazel eyes of Spain.

'Oh, it's you,' I muttered, averting my eyes.

'Wow, what a warm welcome. Wait, you expected someone else?' Spain said, surprised. 'Another man, perhaps?~ Are you seeing someone?~ Is he handsome?~ Or is it a she? Because that's also—'

'It's none of your business,' I grumbled as I folded my arms and flushed a bit.

Spain chuckled for a couple of seconds, before it because… well, pretty much silent. I wasn't really used to talking with people, after all. Matteo was different – he was more some sort of goofy saint than a human being, after all – but apart from him, I didn't think I was able to have a decent conversation with anybody. I—

'You look good,' Spain abruptly interrupted my thoughts once again. 'I'm glad you are.'

'H-huh?' I finally looked up at him, and noticed there was something like honest relief in his eyes.

'No, nothing.' He smiled as brightly as ever. 'So, anyway, about the florist. I figured I should come by and ask you what you have in mind for the flower arrangement, you know, for the wedding anniversary.'

I nodded. 'I see. Alright. Come in.'

Without waiting for a response, I walked away from the door and opened a cabinet in which I had decided to keep all of the flower-stuff for the wedding anniversary. I had put everything Matteo and I had done and discussed about so far in the files and documents I used to keep all of Spain and South Italy's information in (before I had ripped that info apart and thrown away), together with what I actually had in mind for the wedding anniversary and the kind of flowers that they both liked, and that we were able to get in this season of the year.

'Wow,' Spain said when he noticed all that I was carrying.

'You see,' I started, as I put all of the drawings, pictures and other pictures and notes on the kitchen table, 'we hadn't really come up with a definite decision yet, but I was thinking you could use those flowers and these to decorate this and that part of the Sagrada Família. It's a pretty controversial church, so I figured you could easily fit in some of these exotic ones here and there. And what about a huge bouquet in the middle of the main hall – right there?'

Spain stared at all the stuff in front of him on the table like I had just showed him a very rare collection of some sort. 'Th-that's amazing, Raquel! You and the florist thought of all this?'

'Yes,' I said, even though it wasn't completely true: Matteo had provided me with pictures and he had given me more information about certain plants and flowers, but I had done the flower arranging, the decorating, the calculations and the rough sketch of what the main hall of the Sagrada Família should look like on the day of the anniversary all by myself. After Matteo had left yesterday, I figured I could just as well work my ideas out a bit… and this was the result. Hooray for my documenting and research skills.

'I'm impressed. I really am,' Spain said, looking at all the pictures and drawings in awe. 'Look at what wonderful plans you have in mind – flowerwise! Why didn't you say you're so good at this stuff? Then we could have gotten you as our party planner instead of that perverted Hungarian witch.'

'I-I'm not a good party planner, I'm… this is the first time I've ever done this,' I said, frowning because I didn't really know what to do with that compliment (or with that out of left field-comment about Hungary).

'Well, you're good. And you're more than capable to arrange the flowers for us. It's yours,' he decided.

'What do you mean?'

'The job, the task!' Spain grinned at me. 'Lovi was having doubts about having you as our flowerplanner – I'll just call you that from now on – so I went to check up on you on his and my behalf, but I'm pleasantly surprised with what you've come up with. If it's alright with you, we'll gladly pay you for your services!~'

'I – you – um,' I managed to get out.

'And sorry about the blackmailing.' Spain rubbed his head embarrassedly. 'It's not good to snoop around in other people's houses, but I suppose it's not very polite to blackmail people into helping you out either. You're free to reject my offer, Raquel – I won't drag you to the police, I promise – but I'd really, really appreciate it if you would take it.'

I stared at the personification for a while. Spain hadn't only forgiven me for sneaking around his House, but he had also given me his trust and respect. And furthermore, he wanted to give me money for my services – whatever those were, exactly, I didn't really get it yet, but…

…I still needed that dinner-set.

'Okay,' I said, 'I'll… be your flowerplanner, I guess.'

'Great!~' Spain seemed very happy about my decision, which actually gave me a very satisfying feeling. 'We'll leave it in your hands, then! If you need our help or something – feel free to knock on our door, okay? We mostly hang out at home anyway, since we're very lazy.'

That man had no shame.

'So!~' Spain looked at me expectantly. 'When are you going to see that florist again?'

'Tomorrow,' I automatically replied. 'I… was just about to call him.'

I had no idea if Matteo even had time to meet up with me tomorrow, especially since he had to come all the way from Barcelona, but that was stuff Spain didn't need to know.

Spain was satisfied, though, and smiled. 'Sounds good to me!'

'Good to hear.'

'I guess I'll go back to Lovi now, before he starts lunch without me.'

'Okay.'

I wish I had a more glittery personality, but I had to do it with this one, sadly enough.

Spain walked back to the entrance and I, since I didn't want to look like an antisocial bitch, walked along with him. We said some formalities at the door, and then it really was time for him to leave, he even got an impatient text message from his lover already, threatening to lick all the tomatoes if he didn't come back right this instant. It obviously made Spain very eager to return home, for more than one reason – but I rather not think about that other reason.

However, before he ran back home to pounce his husband, he gave me one more smile.

'Thank you very much, Raquel! We're counting on you!~'

Then he left.

I watched him speed-walk home for a little bit, and subsequently, I went back into my house. Then, the first thing I did was feeling quite good about myself once again, and after that, I took Matteo's business card out of the cabinet. I had put it apart from everything else, so I couldn't lose it, and dialed his number on my phone (a cell phone, but a very old one that I hadn't used in years till now) with shaky hands. I was lucky it still worked.

After a few beeps, the call was answered. 'Hello, this is Flora and Cacta, Hernández speaking!~ How can I help you?'

I gulped upon hearing his soothing voice and clenched the hem of my old shirt in between the fingers of my free hand.

'H-hi, Matteo.'

o\00/

'No no, tomorrow is fine! Yes! Yes, definitely!~ No, don't worry about it, I can arrange a babysitter. Why? Well, I'm obviously going to take you out for dinner tomorrow night. Yes way. Yes. Yes!~'

Alejo and I both stared at Matteo as our brother acted all giddy and childish, squirming around on the cramped-up, groaning couch as he talked to a… well, I guess it was a client, but… I hadn't seen him this overjoyed to be chit-chatting to just an ordinary client in years, especially not after… you know, so…

Alejo leaned closer to me and poked me in the ribs. 'Holy shit, Lulu, you see that? You hear that?'

'Yes,' I nodded.

'You know what that means, right?'

I looked at Matteo's slightly reddened cheeks and bright eyes and smiled. 'I do.'

'Yup, time for a new couch!'

'Ye—what?'

'Come on, don't you hear it moan and crack under our weight? Can't you see how filthy this thing is?' Alejo did a few testing hops on the poor, ugly couch beneath us, that indeed started making loud, complaining noises as a result.

But that was not the fucking point!

'You moron, stop talking shit about my couch – I thought we were talking about Matteo!' I hissed at him and tried to smack him (but I hit the couch instead, that instantly got a very dark-gray… hit-mark or whatever, you could see my whole hand in it).

'Resorting to violence. For shame.' Alejo shook his head disapprovingly. 'You disappoint me greatly, Lulu, my crappy-clothed little siterita. No wonder Seb's giving you the naked silent treatment.'

'Sisterita?'

'It's a word.'

'You just made it up, you dork!'

Alejo pouted and wanted to say even more bullshit, but thankfully enough, Matteo ended his call right then and sprung off the couch to make a swirly pirouette.

…

Just Matteo being Matteo, I guess.

'So! Teo!' Alejo very harshly, just to make the furniture whine and therefore to fucking annoy me, pushed himself off the couch as well and slapped a hand on his twin's shoulder. 'Congratulations on the future sex you're going to have, my darling brother. I'm very happy for you!'

Matteo instantly got beet-red. 'I-I just made an appointment with my clients' personal assistant!'

'YOU USUALLY DON'T TAKE PERSONAL ASSISTANTS OF YOUR CLIENTS TO A FRICKIN' SEXY DINNER-DATE AFYTERWARDS, THOUGH,' Alejo for some reason shouted through the apartment, and slapped Matteo's shoulders again – almost making him fall right over.

'Alejo, cut it out!' I shove my eldest brother away from my youngest brother and huffed, putting my hands to my sides as I watched Matteo's still very flushed face. 'Is it true, though? Are you really going on a date tomorrow evening?'

'I think so!' Matteo grinned excitedly. 'U-um, so, her name's Raquel, and she apparently played with us when we were still kids – very young kids, though, and it was only for one day, but it meant a lot to her – and she's been through a lot of hardships – she didn't say that but I could tell, and – and she cleans beams! With a rope!~'

I stared at Matteo's face and didn't really know what to say. Maybe the person talking about her was to blame, but the girl (whose name didn't sound familiar, by the way) appeared to be kind of strange.

'So you're basically saying she's a stupid bonehead as well! That's so cute!' Alejo piped up, positive as always, and gave Matteo a thumbs-up. 'Way to go, Teo! You better patch that damaged heart right up and make sure she has the best sex ever with you. Might be a challenge for you, though – how long has it been, huh?'

'Um—'

'Shut up, Alejo, we're not all sex-crazed lunatics like you.' I snorted, before focusing on Matteo again. 'Anyway, Matteo, I'm glad you're finally starting to take interest in other girls. I mean… it's nice to see that you're willing to give it another try, you know?'

Matteo smiled. 'You make it sound like I decided this. I didn't, you know? It just kind of happened. And she really is a very nice, beautiful girl. Mia gets along with her as well!~'

'And how long have you been seeing this girl?'

'I met her yesterday.'

'You met her yesterday?'

'I met her yesterday.' Matteo smiled more broadly and nodded. 'I felt it right away.'

Alejo sighed and pretended to wipe some happy-tears from his eyes. 'Aww, that's so adorable, Matteo judging a person is well-natured, nice and good with kids based on a single meeting while looking like a fucking stud. Seriously, why he never got laid as much as me is beyond me.'

I squinted my eyes. 'Don't compare him to you, sleazebag.'

Alejo ignored me and pulled Matteo's sleeve. 'Hey, you have a picture of her yet?'

'No… but now that she has called me, I have her number and can ask her to send me a pic, so I can show my brother and sister!~' Matteo gave us a big, hopeful smile and rapidly texted the girl, so it seemed, to score a picture of her. Not even for himself, but for us. I wasn't sure if that was endearing or just dense.

But after a minute or two, in which Alejo kept on telling Matteo he'd be laughing him in the face if she was ugly (he's such an asshole – ugh – how could he be my brother?), Raquel texted back that she felt a bit weird about sending a picture of herself to Matteo. Which was expected – she hardly knew him, after all.

'I'll send you a pic of me, then,' Matteo, who didn't want to give up yet, texted back, together with said pic.

I wanted to tell him he shouldn't be so persistent, but within a fucking split-second, he got a message back. And a pic.

…

Okay.

'Ohh, she's cute – a bit skinny, but cute!' Alejo said after studying the picture of a shy, short-and-black-haired girl that seemed to be a few years older than us. She really did look like a nice young woman, as far as you could tell from a pic, but she also looked a bit… well, scarred. I wondered if Matteo was strong enough to date a girl like that.

Alejo smiled, like a wise, good-willed mentor would, and gently touched Matteo's back.

'Now you can totally masturbate to her. Hooray!'

FORGET THAT, HE SMILED LIKE A DAMN SEXMANIAC, THAT BASTARD.

'Alejo, you fucking asswipe – would you quit it already!' I yelled at Alejo as I punched his arm. 'You make it sound like boys and men are fucking perverts! No way he's going to do that – nobody masturbates to pics of people they just met!'

'You're so naïve, Lulu,' Alejo grinned. 'Of course they do. Men certainly do. Back me up here, guys.'

'We do,' Seb instantly said from the bed, without looking up from the book.

'Yeah, we do,' Matteo easily admitted as well.

I gasped and backed off, staring at the three men in disgust. 'You BEASTS.'

'Shush Lulu, don't act like you never did that,' Alejo said, rolling his eyes. 'There was a reason you put Seb's pic under your pillow when you just started seeing him and when you still lived at our fathers' place, you sneaky, dirty girl, you.'

'GAH,' I gasped again.

'Nice story. I don't think I've heard about that one yet.' Seb looked away from the book and smiled proudly. 'Tell me more about it and I'll stop reading. Deal?'

'NO. NO FUCKING DEAL. READ ON, YOU NAKED JERK.'

Seb glanced at Alejo and shrugged. 'Was worth a try.'

'Absolutely,' Alejo nodded. 'Now care to tell me why you're naked in bed and reading? Not that I mind – you can read naked as much as you want to. Now if you'd only sit on the sheets instead of underneath—'

'That's none of your damn business, and oh god, stop talking already, before I'll fucking kick you out.' I plopped back on the couch and rubbed my temples. 'Oh, great – Venetia can pop up here any minute now and now, thanks to you, I'm getting a headache. Wonderful.'

'Venetia?' Matteo blinked. 'Oh, she's that girl that supposedly knows more about our real parents, right? The doctor's daughter?'

'Yeah.'

Shortly after the twins had arrived at the apartment, about a hour ago, I had told both Alejo and Matteo everything I had come to know about our real parents so far. I had even managed to snag Tosca's book from Seb for a while, so I could show them the pictures that had started triggering things within my head. They responded as I had expected: amazed and flabbergasted, and willing to believe what I claimed – especially when I told them about some flashbacks I had gotten.

Alejo and Matteo were like excited little boys during my explanation, all fired up and curious, which actually made me feel pretty guilty: it meant that, for all those years, they had only pretended to not care about finding our real parents, perhaps because they knew my opinion about them and didn't want to hurt me or something. Or maybe they were afraid that if they went and found them anyway, I could turn out to be right about them.

Crap. That would be so depressing. But I bet it was true.

'So! That girl. When do you think she'll be here?' Alejo then asked me, looking a bit boorish. 'Not that I don't like wasting my day away at my sister's cramped-up apartment or anything, but this is my only day off work this week – I had wanted to do something fun.'

Matteo frowned. 'Same here. I needed to deliver some rare flowers today, not… sit here and watch Seb reading books in the nude.'

'Not that there's anything wrong with that,' Alejo immediately added. 'Really, Seb. I can't stress that enough.'

'Bite me,' Seb said, lazily flipping a page.

'You heard the good man,' Alejo said and turned his head to me. 'Can I?'

'Bite him and I'll bite you.'

'Aww. Also: eww.'

This was getting pretty tiresome. Don't get me wrong, I loved my brothers and we had a lot of fun, most of the time we got together, but Alejo was still as hyperactive as he was as a child, and although Matteo usually was a very responsible guy, he could also be very exhausting – like when he didn't get something and I needed to explain it to him in the most simple words there were. Which weren't always there. And don't get me started about that naked guy in bed.

So really, Venetia, it would be really nice if you could hurry the fuck up and get here already, before these three excuses for men would drive me mad.

o\00/

I wish I could tell you Venetia appeared shortly after my desperate plea, but I can't, because she didn't show up over the course of the next two hours. Meaning I had been stuck with a dork, a moron and a naturist for three hours in total today. And believe me – it costs a lot of self-control to not freak the fuck out about Alejo's pervy jokes, Matteo's yapping about that weirdo girl of his and Seb's tranquil way of reading, while naked.

In the end, to keep at least Alejo and Matteo under control, I had taken out some photo albums Ángel and Stefano had made over the course of the years – photo albums always did the trick, they managed to calm down and interest even the most bouncy and uninterested person in the world. I think. Well. Whatever. It works for them is all I'm saying.

While I prepared some more drinks for them, Alejo and Matteo both were going through two different photo albums with big, shiny eyes, commenting every now and then on how cute, adorable and harmless they still were when they were younger.

'I mean, look at that little guy!' Alejo exclaimed as I came back with the drinks, pointing to a pic of himself when he was still a very young kid. 'Don't I seem to be the most precious little critter in the world!'

Matteo and I stared at the picture with slightly uncomfortable looks. A ten-year-old Alejo held a dead squirrel in the air, grinning maniacally.

'You didn't… kill it, did you?' Matteo softly asked our brother.

'Naaah, it was roadkill – I merely scraped it off the ground to show it off.'

'Nice.' I wrinkled my nose and walked over to Seb.

Seb seemed to be surprised about that and looked up from his book once again. 'Oh, me, too?'

'Of course.' I snorted and offered him a cup of coffee. 'You might be an asshole, but you're still my… y-you know. So here, take it. By the way, how many pages do you have left to read?'

'Well, I'm making great progress,' Seb said, taking the cup of coffee. 'Just a measly 440 pages left. I'm faster than I thought.'

'You only read ten pages in THREE DAMN HOURS?'

'Yup.'

'Oh god, you can't be serious!'

'That's right, I'm not, I'm already at page 400.'

'…whu… um… really?'

'Really.' He lowered his book, so I could see. 'It's a very readable book. It's better than that ancient crap you read every now and then.'

'Don't trash-talk Vanity Fair. It only wants to be accepted, dammit.'

Seb smiled and sat up a bit more. 'Anyways, just a few more pages and I'll finally get dressed and, even better, go to the toilet. Oh sweet, sweet mercy.'

'Yeah? That's nice. Already thought about how to leave the bed without Alejo drooling all over you, then?'

The critical frown Seb gave me was accompanied by a worried comment on the Alejo-problem – but I couldn't hear it, because the doorbell rang through his words.

We all looked up – all four of our heads (what an interesting thing to say) shot right up, and looked over at the door.

'Who's there?' Matteo yelled, just to make sure.

'It's me! Venetia!' a female voice yelled back, and I shrieked, practically running towards the front door. 'I'm sorry I'm late – it appears that traffic's awful in this country as well, and all those saucy Spanish tushies fluttering around me didn't really speed things up either.'

'I think I'll like her,' Alejo said as I struggled with the complicated fucking asshole-door.

'And I like her a lot, too,' Seb called from the bathroom.

Finally, I succeeded to open the damn door, and I looked right into the somewhat-overheated face of a young girl – younger than me, Seb and my brothers, in any case. She had stylish, half-long brown hair, a pretty face with two beautymarks next to her right eye and was casually clothed (but she still managed to look like a damn model, which she probably could have been, if she hadn't been just as "tall" as I was).

Also, she had a huge old, tattered and dusty suitcase with her, which apparently was very heavy for her, because she could barely lift it from the floor.

'Greetings, Luisa,' she quite... literally greeted me, putting down the suitcase and reaching out a carefully manicured hand to me. 'Venetia Romana Tosca, daughter of Dr. Benedetta Tosca, medical student of one of the most prestigious universities in Italy and official deliverer of your childhood memories. May I come in?'