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undiscovered colors by the flashbulb
Joints crunch and creak in the light of the early morning, despite the fact that when Gilbert was awake last it was only afternoon. Nerves along his spine tingle, before breaking open in an agonizing needle-like pain that spikes up and down his back and along the track of his shoulders. He takes a moment to breathe a bit before opening his eyes.
You would think he had a hangover, with the amount of creaky joints and the headache that was making its home in Gilbert's temple. The sheets are scratchy, as they always were in their apartment. Luddy was cheap, and Gilbert didn't care about shit like thread count.
In spite of the aching back, Gilbert sits up anyways, biting his fist through the pain. He wonders for a brief moment why it hurts so much, but then remembers falling in a disheveled heap on the floor of Sadiq's shop. A panic attack most likely. They've become a common occurrence.
"I see that you're awake."
"Luddy," Gilbert smiles down at his lap. "Did Sadiq call you?"
"Vash carried you home, actually."
He raises an eyebrow at this. "Carried me home?"
"He's not as stiff as you think he is," Ludwig scoffs. "He's just got a lot of pride." The blonde steps over to the side of the bed and sits down to rub Gilbert's bare shoulders.
"Thanks bro." Gilbert stiffens though when Ludwig's fingertips brush over the scars all down his back. "They're ugly, I know."
"They're not ugly," his brother reaches down and kisses along the ridges of his spine. "You're most beautiful creature I've ever seen in my entire life." He whispers.
Gilbert takes a few moments, still silent. "Ma always loved you best."
"No she didn't."
"I corrupted her little angel, don't you remember?" angry tears start to build in the back of Gilbert's throat, threatening to spill. "I know you remember, Luddy. And I'm not sorry that we're like this, that she doesn't want to talk to me ever again because I'm the spawn of Satan."
"You're nothing of the sort."
Gilbert climbs over the footboard of the bed to escape, and manages enough to be able to pull a baggy sweatshirt on that's lying on the floor. He pads barefoot out into the living room with Luddy following close behind.
"We can talk about it if you want."
"I don't want to talk about anything," Gilbert reaches for his cellphone. "Talking isn't going to help."
Three missed calls. Unknown number.
"Who in the hell…?" Gilbert dials the number and pulls the phone to his ear, a half-assed attempt at ignoring Ludwig.
"Hello?"
"Antonio," Gilbert mutters. "How did you get my number?"
He can almost hear the smile in his voice. "I have my ways, my Beilschmidt. By the way, the reason I called was because I wanted to talk with you."
"Talk?"
"Yes. But I'm afraid that today I'm not at my office. I'm at the gym right now, the pool actually. It'll be my only available time. Would you mind coming so we can talk over some things?"
Gilbert takes in a breath and exhales slowly at that thought. "Yeah. I guess. I'll be there in a little bit." His voice is hoarse and his throat is dry. The tears are long forgotten but there's a renewed sense of fear coursing through his veins.
There's a hand running through his hair now, calming and slow. It takes Gilbert a few seconds to realize that Antonio has already hung up and that he's still frozen with the phone in hand.
"Where are you going?"
"Nowhere that concerns you, Luddy."
"But—"
Gilbert shrugs him off and reaches for the door.
If someone assumes you love another, let them believe it. Because usually you won't know how much you really love them until they're gone, and you're left with a grave or a pot of ashes. And it's only a certain amount of time before they leave you.
"Sir?"
"Yeah?"
"Where would you like me to put these pictures?"
Arthur glances over his shoulder at Lili, the maid who comes everyday to clean out his apartment, which somehow gets filthy even though he's never there. She stares, holding a box full of picture frames covered in a layer of dust, most likely stowed away in the back of a closet somewhere.
He grabs one at random, and comes up with a family photo of his brother Francis and his wife Michelle, little two-year old Matthew in her arms. He grabs another, and almost drops it.
A photo of him when he was much younger, holding hands with a blonde teenager that had on glasses and a cowboy hat. Of course Arthur looked uncomfortable, he hated pictures being taken of him.
"Um, sir?"
He breaks out of his reverie and shoves the pictures back in the box. "Put 'em back where you found 'em, I'll deal with them later."
"Okay."
When Gilbert arrives, he already feels anxious.
Standing next to a big pool of water isn't helping at all either, and he scoots around the perimeter to see Antonio making laps. The place is absolutely empty, and that is not a good thing. It's not long before he notices the albino, standing awkwardly about four feet from the edge of the pool with his hands clasped together through the baggy sweatshirt.
Antonio climbs out and reaches for a towel, shaking his hair dry.
"What did you want to talk about?"
"You," the Spaniard smiles lightly. "I feel like I should know you better after all these years of not knowing much about one another. Plus, we have a deal, don't we?"
"A deal…" Gilbert's throat goes dry again. "Yeah, I suppose. What exactly are you going to do with it?"
"I have my reasons," Antonio stiffens at the comment. He'd always been a bit touchy… "Do you remember high school, Gilbert?"
"Yes, and it wasn't particularly the favorite point in my life." The Spaniard starts to circle around Gilbert, towel still in hand. But it makes him nervous, not being able to see him in his line of vision, so the albino jerks in Antonio's direction to catch a glance of him setting his towel down. "W-why do we have to talk about high school?"
"I'd like to see the scars, Gilbert. It's been years since I've seen them, and I know it makes you real anxious to be around a lot of water. That's why you'd always get out of gym class when we'd have to swim. But you never told Francis or I what it was really about. I know you have those scars and that irrational fear of water, but you always kept quiet."
"I don't have to tell you," Gilbert feels crowded as Antonio edges towards him, so he takes a few steps back towards the pool. "And why would you want to see them after all these years?"
Antonio grabs him by the collar of his sweatshirt. "Because I want to hear you admit it. I know what your mother did to you, but I just want to hear you say it."
"No," panic rises in his chest, and then soars and he screams as he feels a hand push him back into the pool. He struggles and inhales a bit of water, choking. There's a hand in his hair though, holding him in a strong grip down in the water.
And he remembers.
"Ma. Ma, what are you doing? Ma? Ma?!"
A knife cuts into his back, shallow but still just enough to force wounds upon. Jagged and uneven, scrawling out words into his flesh as he kicks and screams but he knows no one will hear because they live out in the country. Ma chants under her breath, praying for God to save her son.
And then she drags him into the bathroom where a tub full of water waits.
Smears of blood are left on the carpet and tile floor as Gilbert's mother drags him by his feet, screaming in agony and fear as she dumps him into the claw foot bathtub. There's a hand in his hair, holding him under the water as he slowly but surely drowns.
And then the hand is gone, and he rises from the lukewarm water with a splash, but he's still shivering anyways. He drags himself out onto the tile floor, splattered with red here and there and lays stomach down on the cool surface, attempting to calm his terrorized, heated body.
The water in the tub is tinged pink.
Gilbert's dragged out by his hair and thrown down onto the tile beside the pool, shivering and sobbing and coughing up chlorine. He feels too constricted with the soggy, baggy sweatshirt and clumsily rips it off himself.
Antonio stares in childish wonder.
There's a pentagram carved over his right shoulder blade and the words "God save his soul" all down his back, so big you could read it from ten feet away. Hands reach out and brush over the jagged letters and the symbol, a giggle rising in the Spaniard's throat.
"You corrupted her baby boy, that's what you did Gilbert." Antonio mutters into Gilbert's ear. "Because he is your brother, yet you love him more than you should."
The albino shakes and reaches up to claw at Antonio's arms. "Don't leave me here." He whispers. "Don't leave me here alone."
But the Spaniard pries himself away and walks over to gather his towel. "If you get me his blood by next week, I'll be able to save your brother from death. Do you trust me?"
"You just tried to drown me."
Antonio smiles and chuckles under his breath. "I think that's fair enough."
And he leaves Gilbert, shivering and half in shock as he curls up into a ball, trying preserve what's left of him.
Antonio stays after office hours for absolutely no reason at all. He claims it's because he wants to finish paperwork up here rather than at home, but it's really only because he likes to be alone.
But today it seems, he has a few visitors instead.
"Toni."
The blonde siblings stand in the doorway of his office, staring at him in his chair. The Spaniard spins around a few times, ignoring them as they watch.
"Come home with us Toni. Please."
"I don't have a home anymore, Bella." Antonio stops to stare right back at them. "If they ever accepted me back, I'd be nothing more than dirt to them."
"We still love you."
"And who is 'we'?" Antonio feels anger rising in his chest, and he grips his chair in an attempt to not hit someone or something. "All I have is you two, who still insist after all these years that I should just give up and ask for forgiveness."
"He loves you, we all still love you," Bella smiles. "Just come home with us."
"I don't have a choice in this anymore, Isabella," Antonio rises from his seat, and jabs a finger in Nate's direction. "And you. You were the one who got me into this mess in the first place."
"I did nothing of the sort."
"Toni, please." Bella's smile quivers and falls.
"I found him," Antonio whispers. "I found him, and I won't go home now. Not until I fix him."
"You're breaking him, Toni." Bella pleads. "That's all you're doing. You're not thinking in your right mind, you just need to leave and you'll feel better. Just come home with us, we want you back."
Antonio sighs. "Like I said before, I don't have a choice in this anymore."
