Bye, Bye, Blackbird.
"Walking while holding each other's hands, we couldn't even do such a simple thing.
We can't go back to those times, and it would be over just like that.
I wish that the path home we walked together on would never end and continue for an eternity, just like that lone, blue blooming flower on the side of the road."
~Yanagi Nagi, from the song Koibumi (Love Letter)
"Lovino, I...I have Alzheimer's."
Antonio had told me those exact words when he was ready to confess. At first, I had froze, the words processing into my brain.
But my brain didn't want to believe those words, because the next thing I knew, I felt tears pricking the corners of my eyes. Yet I refused to cry.
Not now, dammit. Not in front of Antonio.
Though it all finally made sense. The times when he looked so confused when I mentioned something from the past, or even something that had just recently happened.
Why?
There were so many questions racing through my brain, so many images and memories flashing behind my eyes…
But they all started with the one simple word: why?
Why does the world hate me?
Why do I have to be punished like this?
Why do I have to suffer so much?
Why did it have to happen to Antonio?
Why did Antonio, a nation, get a disease?
Why did Dio like to make me feel so much anguish?
Why couldn't it have been me instead of Antonio?
Why, why, why…
Why do all of the things, all of the people I considered precious in this cruel world have to disappear from my sight?
He was so close to me; yet he was so far away. Antonio was just within my grasp, yet I could not find my hand to intertwine with his.
It was always my biggest fear when I was younger.
I was so afraid.
Afraid of the world, afraid of the people around me, afraid of being weak and useless, afraid of simply not being good enough for anyone.
However, there was always just one thing I truly feared the most.
I was completely and utterly terrified of...Antonio abandoning me. Antonio disappearing. Antonio dying.
As a young nation, I had a bad temper. I would fuck things up instead of cleaning properly. Believe me, I tried. I tried so, so hard to help. I wanted someone to praise me for doing something correctly for once. I wanted someone to smile at me, to tell me that I was a good boy. I just...I wanted to be loved, to be showered with affection.
But in the end, I always messed up, no matter how much I attempted to successfully complete a task. And then they would yell and scold me. In the end, I would end up with a punishment without food for the entire day.
I had found that my arms and legs wouldn't stop shaking. My body was trembling, all on its own. I didn't know what to do. Because of that, I could not clean. When asked to do so, it would usually end up with a precious item shattered on the floor, ultimately resulting in me having to sweep the shards of glass up as well.
People called me clumsy and stupid, so I had cursed at them and decided that the world was full of dumbass jerks. It was at the moment in time that I had adopted my temper and foul cursing.
It was a foreign thing to me back then, this emotion called 'love'.
The only word I really knew was 'imperfect'.
No one really wanted me for me. They just wanted my land, my people. That's all I was ever wanted for. It was never for me as a person, just me as a nation.
On the other hand, Feliciano…
Feliciano had it all.
Everyone loved North Italy. He was so perfect, compared to clumsy, little, old South. Even my own Grandfather favored him over me.
To everyone else, to the world, to the people of Earth…
South Italy was as irrelevant as a speck of dust on the road.
When that realization crashed down upon me, that was when I had shut everyone out. I concealed all of my true emotions inside of my heart. I didn't want anyone to hurt me anymore. I never wanted to feel that wretched aching of my heart, the tears threatening to spill over.
None of it. It would never happen again. I had made sure of it, and soon enough, everyone really did despise me.
I enjoyed it that way. My little performance worked well. It kept the cruel people away from me, leaving them to fawn over how adorable Feliciano was. I was content with that for many years and centuries.
But then I started having second thoughts.
"Why can't he be more like his brother?"
"They're twins, but Feliciano is much more likable and skillful!"
"Whoever ends up having South Italy as their land, good luck! I heard he's an awful brat…you're better off with North!"
I started questioning my appearance. My personality. My clothes, the way I dressed. My hair, my eyes, my nose, my mouth. My body.
Am I too ugly?
Am I better off acting more like Feli?
Why was I not good enough?
As the decades passed, my insecurities grew tenfold.
Every mention of Feliciano around me made me grit my teeth. Every coo about how sweet and charming Feliciano was, my hands balled into fists. Every 'oh, you're so perfect, North Italy!' made my heart ache and my stomach twist into knots.
Every. Single. Damn. Word.
It made me feel worthless, inferior. I was tired of being me. I wanted to be someone else. I thought that, if I tried acting like Feliciano, maybe they'd like me.
So that's what I did.
"Good morning, sir, miss!" I said the next morning, surprising them both.
They both looked shocked for a moment before their expressions changed to a look of pure disgust. "Aren't you South Italy? People told me you were a mangy little brat. Scram!" The woman sneered at me scornfully.
And so I ran, with tears streaming down my face.
I never tried to be someone else ever again. I only fell deeper into the black hole that was inside my heart.
I decided, if acting like someone else wasn't enough to make people like me, it must have been because of my looks. It was true, Feliciano was much more cuter than I. I felt jealous that he would never experience the same things I have, jealous that everyone loved him so much.
I absolutely hated him. Yet, I loved him for being my stupid little brother.
I hated that I loved him. I loved that I hated him.
I then decided once more to isolate myself from the rest of the world, insecurities forever locked up deep inside of myself.
And then Spain.
Spain, Reino de España, the Kingdom of Spain.
Antonio Fernández Carriedo...
That bastard changed my life for the better.
He took me into his home and took care of me. He had chosen me over Feliciano. Or, rather, the piano bastard gave me to him. But he didn't reject me, like many other people did.
At first, I thought he was just another one of those stupid bastards. He ordered me to clean the huge mansion and be a good little 'henchman'. As always, I had screwed up most of the time and ended up destroying half of his priceless items.
But...he didn't punish me. On some occasions, he even gave me a tomato with a small smile. He'd pat me on the head as I took a bite into it, and I was instantly amazed by the heavenly taste of it. He looked like he really loved tomatoes, and well, I did too…
So I nicknamed him, 'the tomato bastard'.
I didn't trust him in the beginning, but I found myself beginning to actually...like him.
He took care of me diligently, and even fought the scary Turkey bastard to keep me. He would praise me when I successfully grew tomatoes, pat me on the head for being a great sport with his favorite vegetables—or was it fruits? Well, whatever. It doesn't really matter much. All I felt was happiness everytime he smiled at me.
Before I knew it, I began to crave for his attention. I would sometimes mess things up on purpose so that he could look in my direction and speak to me. It did not matter what he said—I just felt incredibly happy that he didn't ignore me like many others did. He could scold me, but I didn't even mind anymore.
For the first time in what felt like a million years, I felt what it was like to be wanted. It made me feel extremely ecstatic.
And maybe, just maybe...I began to trust Antonio more than I should have. I began to feel what 'love' was, for my very own caretaker—my own Boss.
Those emotions overwhelmed me, yet I didn't reject them like I thought I would. I felt that, maybe just this once...I'd learn how to love.
And so I did.
Over the years, my feelings only grew for him. For Antonio.
He was the perfect image of an angel. His carefree, yet gentle smiles. His bright green eyes that glowed so beautifully when he looked at me—it was like his eyes were the most precious, delicate emeralds. His kindness to everyone…
I just...loved him so much, with all of my fucking heart, dammit. I hate sounding like a cheesy fucker, but... Antonio meant the world to me. Only his presence would save me from the beast within myself.
So, when those words left his mouth—it felt like my world was falling apart. It was quickly torn to miniscule pieces, burned, and trampled on. Almost at once, all of my carefully locked up insecurities escaped out of that box, and I found tears threatening to spill, overwhelmingly so.
"Lovi…" He whispered quietly, but I couldn't see his facial expression through my blurred eyes.
And then I broke.
I couldn't stop the tears from flowing—and after a minute I began to sob, tears cascading down my cheeks at a fast speed. I whimpered and wailed, all the while trying to unsuccessfully stop the tears with my hands. All of the emotions I had locked inside of me for so many centuries poured out like raindrops falling endlessly from the sky.
I wanted to kick and scream. I wanted to throw a fucking tantrum and curse the world for being so damned cruel to me. I was cursed to damnation, of course, I realized. I always had been.
Just when I had someone so important to me, the world wanted to take him away from me.
I suddenly found myself enveloped in his arms as he pulled me against his chest. I didn't even push him away like I usually did—for I no longer had the motivation or heart to do so. All I could see, feel, and smell was Antonio.
"Shh, Lovi…" He whispered soothingly into my ear, comforting me. "Please don't cry...if you do, you'll make me cry, too…"
I refused to stop. Not because I didn't want to listen to him, but because I just simply couldn't. I just felt so utterly hopeless—like there was no reason left to even live anymore. A world without Antonio is like a world without colors, a world without sound, a world without happiness…
And so here I was, sobbing my heart out to the man that should be crying, instead of me. Antonio was going to die. He was going to forget everything….and die.
I knew that. I knew it, yet, instead of comforting him, he's comforting me.
Why am I so pathetic? I can't even be strong for him, like he is for me.
I hiccuped and clutched at his shirt, my tears staining his shirt. I was even getting his clothing dirty, but all he did was run a hand through my hair and hugged me tighter.
Why are you so nice to me, when all I do is cause you trouble and worry?
We both stood there for a while. After a moment, he led me to his bedroom, and I ended up crying myself to sleep, with his soft murmurs in my ears and his warmth around my body.
My music box began to play a tragic melody.
It became a daily routine during the five months that had passed. I would wake up, sitting beside Antonio's bed. I would never leave his side, in fear that if I did, he would forget me the moment I left.
"But I'm perfectly fine, Lovi! There is nothing, not even this illness, that will make me forget you! You are my life, Lovino. If you suddenly disappeared from my mind, I would feel like something was missing. Like a piece of me was gone. Without you, there is no me," Antonio whined to me one day, noticing how I wouldn't even let him go to the bathroom alone.
"Yeah? Well, too bad. I don't believe you. I don't trust that damned disease that you have."
I know what you're thinking. No, you idiot, I didn't actually go inside the bathroom with him. Fucking perverts. I just—you know. Stood outside while hearing him piss and shit. I know, I sound like a fucking highly skilled stalker, but I can't just get over my fear. I was filled with doubt, worry, fear, and paranoia. How would you react if the person that was the most important to you suddenly forgot who you were, huh?! Yeah...so you can understand why I took it so seriously.
"But it's embarrassing to make noises while you're standing out there! Lovi~!" He continued to whine some more.
So I responded with, "We've known each other for so many centuries—plus, you saw and heard me piss and shit when I was young! Just go, dammit! There's nothing to be embarrassed about!"
And so life continued on.
But Antonio's Alzheimer's only got worse as the days passed by. He eventually started forgetting things more frequently, forgetting what he just did and said. Forgetting his past days of being a conquistador and a pirate…
It broke my heart to see him in such a disheveled state. I did all I could to help and support him from the sidelines. Eventually, I let him out of my sight once in a while, once I knew he really wouldn't forget me.
I wish I could be useful to him, in times like these…
"Oi, Antonio! Come down here, I made us lunch!" I said, finalizing the finishing touches on the pasta. Perfect.
I heard him walk around a bit upstairs, then stumble down the stairs with a perplexed expression on his face, "Eh? Um..er..Lovi?"
"What is it, bastard? Are you not hungry?" I asked, looking up to look at him as I placed the two plates on the table, as well as the utensils needed to eat.
"Ah..no. It's just—didn't we just eat lunch?"
I paused my actions, stopping myself midway as I squatted awkwardly in place, my ass above the seat of a chair. I could feel the fear and paranoia coming back again. "No, Antonio...we had breakfast. That was breakfast, not lunch." I had answered carefully and precisely, before settling myself into the seat.
"Oh~!" Antonio beamed, then sat down in the seat next to me. "I see! Lo siento, Lovi! I forgot again...ahaha!"
"Whatever…" I huffed, pretending to shrug it off like I wasn't worried. In reality, I was scared shitless. I didn't want him to forget.
I was afraid of his upcoming death, and his memory loss.
How many months did he have to live, anyways? One?
No, scratch that thought. I don't want to fucking know.
We both ate in absolute silence. It was unusual and nerve wrecking to me—he was usually always talking about something, no matter how irrelevant it may be. Like, about tomatoes or something.
But this time, he didn't say anything. Just ate in silence, with almost no facial expression on his face.
Glancing over at him, I noticed how extremely messy he looked. I know, he's always messy, but...this was the bad kind of messy. His hair, which always looked so natural when it was messy, looked—well… horrible. It didn't look right anymore. It was greasy and dirty, shining in an unnatural way. It stuck up in all sorts of different directions.
And his outfit. He was just wearing a plain, white T-Shirt and long, baggy sweat shorts. But even just that made him look ten times older than he usually appeared.
Dio, Antonio looked so...so...ill. It wasn't such a good idea to call him downstairs for lunch, after all...goddammit. Why do I always have to screw things up?!
Next time...next time, and all of the times after that...I'll make sure that I bring the lunch to him instead. Even though he could walk perfectly fine, I don't want to make him do any more work that he actually has to.
The doctor told me to take care of him, since it's better for a family member, or close friend to take care of people with this kind of illness. It helps them remember things, he told me. Of course, I had eagerly accepted. I would do anything for Antonio, now…
I will take care of him. I will give him anything he wants.
Just this once.
Just until he. . .
. . .
. . . Leaves.
I was sitting in his room, holding a bowl of soup that I had made. He was beginning to become very weak, and though I just wanted to curl up and cry, I had to stay strong. For Antonio.
"Sit up, Antonio…" I said. I didn't demand him to do it—I just said it very softly, as if I was talking to a baby.
"...Ah? Lovi?" He questioned groggily as he reluctantly opened his eyes, his voice scratchy. "Is it time for breakfast?"
My heart flipped upside down at the question. "No... it's dinner. Come on, bastard...I'll feed you. B-But just this once, okay?"
Antonio only smiled at that, nodding eagerly. "Okay."
I brought the soup-filled spoon to my lips and blew at it lightly, blushing a bit as I did so. Hesitantly, I placed the spoon to Antonio's lips, once I deemed the soup to be less heated. He devoured it in less than a second.
I watched him while he did so, and he gave me a goofy, heart-wrenching smile. "It's good, Lovi! You really are the best cook in the world!"
I was sure my face was on fire, now. "Damn right I am."
He only laughed his melodious laugh, and I fed him the next spoon with my heart in my hand.
"Here, Antonio. Take this," I held the old music box out to him.
"What is it?" The Spaniard asked me, scrutinizing it carefully as he held the music box in his hand.
"What does it look like, idiot? It's a music box, obviously," I grumbled.
His emerald eyes had found the latch to open the box, and, with much reluctance, he did so.
A happy, upbeat tarantella tune began to play.
He looked up at me with wide eyes. "Lovi, I...what...is this?" Antonio repeated dumbly.
I was silent for a while, the tune reaching my ears, making me want to dance.
"Nothing," I told him. "Just a present for you. Keep it."
"Gracias, Lovino! The tune is adorable and fun!" He exclaimed, eyes shining as it continued to play. "It kind of… reminds me of you!"
"Yeah, well...you better be thankful, dammit. Anyways, I'm going to go do some things downstairs. Make sure you rest well, and call me if you need anything, okay, bastard?"
"Sí!"
I nodded and left the room, closing the door behind me.
. . .
And then I silently cried.
Author's Note:
Well, there goes the second chapter. Everything is revealed here. It was indeed fluffy and cute in the last chapter, but this story was labeled as 'romance/angst'. Ahaha. ^^; So now you know why!
Thank you for the reviews. Constructive criticism is always welcome!
Alas, there is only one more chapter left to this story. And then I shall get back to writing 'Hasta la Vista, Baby'. :3
See you next time!
~Kawaii Dream