note: un-edited. will fix it up tomorrow.

ii.

Lovino had woken up bright and messy haired the next day - his stomach felt a little empty, but his mind was wide awake and well rested. His cheeks still felt a bit warm, but past experience told him that it was nowhere near warm enough to bring out the red tint his face was known for. He yawned, the events of late yesterday evening still fresh in his mind, as if he had never went to bed for the night and had instead just experienced them merely minutes before.

The Italian brought his hand up to run through his messy hair; it caught in a few minor tangles, but he still managed to get his hair back in order without too much fuss. Through the walls of his room he could hear the soft clanking of a pan, and the familiar scent of breakfast made its way into his room, much to his stomach's delight. The fine, high pitch of Feliciano's voice as he sang also served to wake him up further, and he slipped out of his small bed, toes curling as they touched the cold stone floor of his bedroom.

Although Lovino had never been much of a morning person, he could not deny the elation brimming beneath his skin, threatening to pour out from him in the form of a rare smile. Last night, Antonio had asked to him to visit some special place, somewhere Lovino could not help but imagine anything other than wonderful - he doubt he would be disappointed with whatever place Antonio had in store for him, and as stupidly embarrassing those thoughts may have seemed, he could not help but think them as his honest feelings. Never had he felt so excited for an event in his life.

Quickly, he slipped out of his clothes - he hadn't realized how tired he really had been, as he was still wearing the clothes from the day before - and pulled on a new set of regular, non-Sunday clothes: a soft button up and some faded brown pants. He slipped on a pair of shoes, and made his way down the hall and into the small dining room, where he took a seat at the wobbly table. Vincezo was at his usual spot in the corner of the kitchen, preparing his morning coffee.

"You did not come to dinner last night." Vincezo said simply, as soon as Lovino sat down. Lovino shrugged noncommittally, and Vincezo gave him a hard look.

"Weeding made me tired." Lovino responded, trying to sound casual - however, there was no way to be casual with his father; he had learnt that long ago.

"Enough to completely disregard dinner with your family, Lovino?" His father replied, voice sharp. Lovino could not help but wince slightly. "And with your voracious appetite, it'd be strange that you would completely skip it, had you the choice to do so."

"Father, it really did tire me out," in more ways than one, Lovino added silently. "It was just one dinner, anyways. I'll be sure to go eat dinner today - it's not like I have anywhere else I could eat."

Vincezo had nothing to comment with, and just silently went back to his coffee making, face as stiff and stern as ever as he continued to grind the coffee beans. Lovino never did like his coffee - it was always a bit too watery for his tastes, and he often found himself forgoing it altogether. Feliciano popped his head in, a large plate of cooked eggs and toasted bread balancing on one palm.

"Actually," the youngest Vargas said, laying the plate onto the table, "speaking of dinner, we do need some more food for tonight, because I don't think we have enough pasta or cheese and you can't really have pasta without pasta, because that's really sad, and maybe you could go out to do the shopping, Lovi?" Feliciano managed to say it all in one quick breath, still managing to smile cheerily.

At Vincezo's look, one that was already telling Lovino to go out and do it, Lovino angrily sputtered, "but I did the shopping last time!" He whipped his head in Feliciano's direction, eyes sharp and accusing. "It's supposed to be his turn to do it, anyways. Why do I have to do it?"

Vincezo gave a stony smile. "Think of it as... making up for missing out on dinner last night. Your brother worked hard to make food and you didn't even stop by to say you weren't going to eat with us."

Lovino scowled deeply, but he knew nothing he would say could change his father's mind, and, with a good morning turned sour, the Italian stood abruptly from his seat and stomped out of the house.

x

The pasta and cheese were easy enough to get; there was a store right next door that sold those very things, for a decent price. However, before Lovino managed to successfully stomp out and away, Vincezo had stopped him, with a few more items he would need to buy - namely bread and vegetables, the latter of which was a bit harder to obtain, as the prime time for visiting the morning market had already passed. The usual produce being sold during the afternoon were often of inferior quality, and had scrapes or bruises, which Lovino hated.

At least the market square was empty empty at this time, however, Lovino wasn't sure if the comfort of not being bustled and pushed around by the morning crowd was better than getting quality products. On one arm was draped a woven basket, already filled up with a few loafs of bread, and a wedge of cheese.

The Italian made his way over to the main market square, where the produce stalls where located, looking half empty with various vegetables and fruits. It only took a mere half hour to get through most of the stalls - with only a quick glance Lovino could tell which produce were worth buying and which were not. At the very last of the stalls, Lovino had busied himself by scrutinizing the herbs when a hand grabbed his forearm, and, with a gasp, Lovino turned around to meet whoever had reached out to him.

A familiarly irritating voice spoke up before Lovino could see the man, and it evoked a giddy, yet stubbornly annoyed feeling within him. "I didn't get your name, yesterday."

He looked up into green eyes, startled by how close their faces were. He reacted in the only sane way he knew he could and elbowed Antonio in the stomach, causing him to double over. Lovino fixed his basket and checked up on the vegetables he had acquired to make sure none of them bruised or fell out while Antonio recovered.

"It's not very nice to assault people," Despite the pain, Antonio still managed to be cheery as he let out a wheeze. Lovino ignored him pointedly, and was content that his bought items were not harmed.

"It was a reflex," Lovino said, and rubbed his cheeks - he seemed to be doing that more often, lately. He pretended to fuss some more with his squashes, and murmured, "...it's Lovino."

"Lovino?" Antonio weaved his arm around Lovino's non-basket arm, and his smile was radiant as he tugged Lovino away from the stalls. Lovino stumbled at first, unsure of whether to first tear his arm away from his hold or to continue following the man. "A fitting, handsome name for a handsome young man." The Spaniard commented breezily, and Lovino felt a small shiver of glee run down his spine at the mentioning of being a young man, but shrugged it off as best as he could, keeping his barbed facade.

"Yes, that's my name, why are you dragging me away?" But, despite his protests, he let himself be pulled away from a chore he didn't want to, and when they had reached a considerable distance, asked, "where are we going?"

Antonio grinned, and simply answered, "To that secret place I was talking about, yesterday." He took on a somewhat troubled expression, eyebrows furrowing slightly. "You do want to go, don't you? I hope you aren't having cold feet already."

"No, no," Lovino said hastily. "I do, but my basket-"

"We'll just drop it off at your house." Antonio nodded, giving a glance to Lovino. "Where do you live?"

"Just take me to the church." Lovino said simply, fingers grasping tighter around the woven handle of his basket. "And don't come in."

"Oh, you hurt me, Lovino," Antonio said, mock grasping his heart in a comedic show of grief. "Why? Do you have a jealous girlfriend?"

Lovino gave a short shake of his head. "I do not have a girlfriend."

"Then a jealous lover, perhaps?" Antonio said, eyes adopting that sly little glint, lips turned up at the edges.

"What is it with you and jealousy?" Lovino said, keeping his eyes on the ground, mouth down turned and unresponding to his playful jabs. As they walked towards the church he kicked a small rock, head briefly going up to watch it skip along the dirt road. Lovino decided to humor the Spaniard, and gave a small smirk. "There would nothing to be jealous of, anyways. If anything, I'd bet they would have laughed at you."

"Oh, Lovino, wounding my poor, free soul with your heartless words." Antonio said, exaggerating a loud, weary sigh, the teasing glimmer in his eyes never fading.

"Yes, yes, whatever you say, Spaniard."

x

They had made their way to the front lawn of the church within no time at all, and with a stern look from Lovino, Antonio stayed in his place a few feet behind some bushes, hidden away from sight. Lovino tried to stealthily make his way to the house, which was located behind the church, and managed to slip into the kitchen, placing the basket down lightly, before turning around.

"Lovino." Lovino let out a surprised 'oomph', as he collided into Vincezo.

"Father -"

"Already done with the shopping?"

"Well, yes. It wasn't that hard."

"Where are you headed now?" Vincezo said, and Lovino hesitated, unsure of how to lie to his father.

"To the main square," Lovino said, after a few moments. He tried not to show how uncomfortable he felt, and tried to think quickly. "I was thinking of looking at some of the shops downtown - wasn't there a new bakery opening?"

"Yes, there was," Vincezo nodded slowly, as if recollecting whether or not there had been. He gave a final, firm nod, seeming somewhat convinced, and Lovino took a step back towards the kitchen doorway. "...Just, come back before dinner."

"Yes, father." Lovino hurried out, careful to jump over some of the lower lying bushes to get to Antonio faster.

"Finally," Antonio said, as Lovino made his way to his side. "I was worried you would come at all!"

"I came, and I'm here." Lovino said. "Now, let's go - or else, I might really grow bored of you and your antics."

x

"Where are we headed?" Lovino asked for the umpteenth time, feeling jittery as they traveled deeper into the forest. All Antonio had done to answer him was a quick point up ahead, to a small break in the forest, where the Italian could hear the far off sound of water running. Neither said anything as they continued the short way to the river, and Lovino took care to not trip over any uncovered roots or unexpected dips in the earth below them.

The closer they came to their destination, the louder the running water became. Lovino could make out a small boat sitting at the edge; it was not terribly large, but it was largely covered by an off-white canvas, which arched along large metal rings to create a makeshift canopy over the boat. The bank, which was soft and moist, was turned into a basic camping area of sorts; a decent sized wooden crate sat in front of an unlit camp fire, and a few lamps were strung up by thick ropes from the surrounding trees, offering some light during the night. Next to a small wooden trunk, was a worn blanket - which Lovino assumed was the bed in which Antonio slept under the stars with - spread not too far from the camp fire, and the Italian wondered how one could live with such... modest accommodations.

"And this, Lovino, is my place of solace, a little area I can call home."

"Seems like a dump." Lovino commented easily, not too terribly impressed. He was expecting some sort of beautiful, hidden lake, or perhaps, a meadow teeming with vivid life... not some river bank in a forest clearing. Though, despite the plainness of the location, Lovino couldn't help but note the water was a deep green, calmly still as leaves floated on its surface, and, as Lovino looked further, spying a small family of ducks swimming together. Plain, but charming, in its own way. Antonio smiled.

"Yes, perhaps it is. But, it's the closest I can call a home at present, in my heart."

"You do not consider where you're from your home?" Hazel eyes glanced over to the Spaniard.

"Not for a very long time, Lovino." The sudden solemnness to his voice made Lovino start, and Lovino gave him a silent, questioning glance. "I ran away from my home when I was your age, a long time ago. I was dumb, but my heart was in the right place - if I knew what I would go through to get to where I am now, back then, I would do it all over again." At this, Antonio looked at Lovino, eyes serious as they looked into Lovino's own eyes.

"I," Lovino said, unsure of how to react to that look, his stomach coiling and cheeks feeling that familiar, unwanted warmth. "A long time ago, you say?" He murmured. "How old are you?"

"Twenty-four." Antonio answered, grasping Lovino's wrist as he walked over to the campfire, motioning, with his other hand, to the wooden crate. "Take a seat."

Lovino did as he was told, gingerly taking a seat on the rickety crate. It rocked back a bit, and he braced his feet on the floor to steady himself. Antonio patted his back before walking towards the river's edge, Lovino's gaze following curiously after his form. "Let me go grab something to drink," the Spaniard explained, stepping into the water. He flashed a smile at Lovino's surprised look, who watched him wade waist deep into the river before climbing onto the boat, the edge of which dipped into the water before bobbing back up.

Lovino turned back around, eyeing the ashy campfire before him. He turned his head to the blanket on the floor, idly wondering if Antonio had a pillow stashed away somewhere; he could not have been that comfortable, to lie on an old blanket on top of dirt - how could he looked so refreshed when that was all he had to sleep on all night?

"Here," A hand suddenly appeared in his vision, holding a tin cup filled with a vivid red liquid. Lovino's eyes trailed up from the hand to the arm connected to it, and finally, to Antonio's face. He was beaming, as if proud of whatever juice was within the cup. He eyed how wet the lower half of the Spaniard was with no small degree of distaste, and said in a dry voice, "You should change, idiot."

"Don't worry about that," Antonio laughed, brushing it off. "Just try this - I may be biased, but I think it's quite good. Here, drink up." He pressed the cup into Lovino's hands, and stood up from his bent position, eyeing Lovino with a happy expectation.

The Italian gave a wary look, first to the red liquid and back to Antonio, and lifted the cup to his lips, taking a tentative sip. He made a face at its sourness, to which Antonio laughed good-naturedly. "Just keep drinking, it'll get better, promise." Lovino ignored him, and pulled the cup away, letting the taste sink into his tastebuds - the sourness, which was sharp and clear, led way to a slight bitter undertone, and he was not pleased. However, after swallowing, he could taste a subtle sweetness that took over. He blinked a few times, unsure of what fruit could have made this sort of peculiar taste.

"Do you like it?" Antonio asked, crouched in front of Lovino, propping his elbows on his knees.

"...I've never tasted anything like it, before." Lovino said honestly, and took another sip, one that Antonio did not miss.

"So, you do like it?" And Antonio could not stop his big grin from showing. "I made it myself, you know."

"Really, now?" Lovino said, disinterested as he took another sip.

"Yes, really. I traveled up here from the Calabria region - I hear it's the only place in this large world where the bergamot orange can be grown, did you know? I used some of those peculiar oranges along with a few overripe strawberries, and I think it turned out rather nice."

"Calabria?" Lovino choked, and looked up at the Spaniard with wide eyes. He wiped his mouth, eyes, never leaving Antonio. "You traveled to here from way down there?"

"Yes, I did." Antonio smiled, tapping his chin. "A free spirit, remember, Lovino?"

Lovino took a thoughtful sip of his bergamot-strawberry juice, contemplating his words.

"Restless." The Italian said after a moment, letting the sweet aftertaste of the drink settle in his mouth.

"Hm?"

"You do not strike me so much as a free spirit." Lovino said quietly, looking into the tin cup. Antonio felt his smile slip a little, before recovering. "But rather, a restless one."

"Lovino... you are too clever for me. Sometimes you surprise me, more than I expect you to." Antonio said softly. "You must be quite the riddle solver."

"I do not care for complicated questions that look for simple answers." Lovino set the cup down onto the wet soil, careful to make sure it was steady. He looked back to Antonio, eyes piercing. "And do not praise yourself - you aren't some complex riddle that will show me the meaning of life a-and... don't change the subject." Antonio sighed, but with what emotion, Lovino could not tell.

"Restless, I suppose, is an accurate term." Antonio gave in to Lovino. "Sometimes, Lovino, when I am on the river on my little boat, I wonder if I'm trying to find something - as if I am missing something." He stopped, and Lovino wondered if he had more to say on the subject.

At first, the Italian had wanted to say he seemed lonely, rather than restless - however impossible it seemed for the Spaniard - but he hadn't; it seemed too direct, too personal, and Lovino honestly was not sure what to think of Antonio, much less get involved with Antonio's personal matters; Lovino was, after all, not one for such things, even with the people he felt close with.

"Don't go looking like you're pitying me now, Lovino." Antonio smiled, standing up from his crouch, the tin cup filled with the juice in his hand. "It does not suit you."

"How would you know what suits me, and what does not?" Lovino asked, hand reaching out for the tin cup.

The Spaniard took a step back playfully, keeping the cup out of reach for the Italian. "You are much too lively to dampen yourself with something like pity." He took a sip of the drink, which Lovino stood up from his crate at. Antonio began to jog backwards, grinning madly. "Much too fiery, much too clever." He waved the cup carelessly, but nothing spilled out. Lovino followed after.

"That was my juice!" Lovino said, chasing after the Spaniard, who had the briefest of confused looks on his face, before he shook it off and laughed as he continued his jog backwards.

"Yes, but I was the one to make it," Antonio beamed broadly, going fast enough to keep Lovino farther than an arm's length away.

"But you gave it to me, bastard!" Lovino, who hadn't stopped chasing, had briefly panicked mentally, not meaning to go on the offensive and call Antonio a bastard - however, at the sound of Antonio's happy bark of a laugh, Lovino felt his worries go away; Antonio, if anything, seemed to be pleased to have gotten a Lovino-esque nickname.

"Well, I suppose I did!" Antonio stopped, and Lovino bumped into his chest. He gained his bearings and tried to swipe the cup of juice away from the Spaniard, but was too slow - Antonio had already lifted his arm up above his head, where Lovino's fingertips could only barely reach.

"You never did tell me if you liked it or not," Antonio said, brightly. Lovino gave an annoyed, brusque, 'hrmmph'. "Tell me, and I'll give it back to you."

"Oh, you big headed idiot," Lovino muttered, still trying to grasp for the cup. Antonio was not much taller than him - the Spaniard probably had a good few inches on him, and perhaps an inch too much, as his hands could only reach as far as Antonio's wrist. Lovino gave up with a loud, explosive sigh. "I'll tell you how much I love your... "

"...juice." The Italian tilted his head down to face Antonio, but had faltered as he found that his eyes were at level with Antonio's lips. With a shaky realization, the Italian registered that he was chest to chest with the Spaniard, arm still reaching up for the other's like they had paused in some clumsy, affectionate dance. Antonio seemed to realize this too, as his hand dropped just slightly, enough for Lovino to snatch it and turn around, taking a deep gulp of the sour drink.

"I'm glad." Antonio smiled gently, arm slipping back down to his side. He ruffled Lovino's hair. "Although, for such a clever one, I'm surprised you never saw it."

"Saw what?"

"Your cup." Another mischievous twinkling of green eyes, and a crooked grin.

"It was in your hand. Until I snatched it back." Lovino said, making a face. He wasn't quite sure what Antonio was trying to get at. His hazel eyes narrowed. "You aren't making fun of me, are you?"

"Never," Antonio laughed, and merely pointed back to the crate. Lovino looked back mid-sip, and spied a tin cup, similar to the one he was holding, sitting in its place where he had left it. Lovino bristled, and looked back at the cup held in his hands.

"W- well, you didn't even tell me!" He shot, realizing why Antonio had that brief, confused look while the Italian had been chasing him. "It would have saved a lot of trouble." And embarrassment.

"But, it did chase the pity away," Antonio took a step back, and let his back rest against a thick tree trunk. A wink. "Seeing you like that suits you much more, Lovino. You seem like someone who needs a bit of excitement in their life."

Lovino raised an eyebrow, but could not help the small smile tugging at his lips. "And this excitement is you?"

"Naturally!" Antonio laughed, pushing off the tree. "I am a free spirit, yes? Now, let me show you something else exciting..." The Spaniard turned around, and began to climb the tree, and Lovino watched, apprehensive of whatever stupid stunt Antonio might try to pull off.

"Don't go jumping into the lake from there," Was all Lovino said, still watching as Antonio managed to get onto the lowest, largest branch. The Spaniard did a little shimmy, and finally balanced himself. He seemed comfortable enough to sit up, and looked down at Lovino, dark hair getting in his face.

"Oh, don't worry." Antonio said, and patted the space next to him. "Now, your turn!"

Lovino took a step back. "W - what?" He contemplated taking a few more, but Antonio couldn't reach him from where he's at. "It's not like there's anything amazing to see up there, anyways." Lovino tried to reason, still holding the tin cup.

"Well, there isn't a very nice view - but have you ever climbed a tree, before? There is a wonderful satisfaction with doing it, and when you sit on the branches, even if you're only eight or so feet in the air, you get the feeling of being untouchable, almost." Antonio still held his hand out to the Italian, who was still refusing. Antonio sighed, but still had a determined grin - he deftly turned around so his back faced Lovino, and abruptly dropped backwards, much to Lovino's surprise and alarm.

"Antonio!"

"Calm down, Lovino!" Antonio laughed, dangling upside down from the tree limb, his knees bent so he would stay on. Lovino pursed his lips.

"Is this your idea of fun?"

"No. Maybe." The Spaniard smiled, and Lovino thought about how odd it was to see it upside down. "But, you've never climbed, before, right? Why not try it just once - I'll catch you, if you fall."

"You'll catch me from that tree branch?" Lovino asked, skeptical. He took another drink from the cup, still not quite used to its tangy sourness.

Antonio stayed silent as he lifted his upper body back up, and, from his perch, jumped onto the floor with a heavy thump. Lovino took a step back in surprise. "Hmm, no. But I'm sure I can catch you from down here - now, up you go, Lovino!" Antonio, fluidly, took the half full cup from his hands and placed it on the floor, and went back up to give Lovino an encouraging push.

"But I can't climb!" Lovino yelped, trying to push back against Antonio. "I don't - I'm not-" Strong enough? Brave enough? Lovino didn't finish his sentence but continued his halfhearted protests.

"I'll help you." Antonio replied cheerfully, choosing to ignore his objections. "Here, now wrap your arms around the trunk - no, no, like this, Lovino." The older man guided Lovino's arms around the trunk, patting his hands as if it would help the Italian's grip. "Now, lift one leg," he held the back of the Italian's knee, and lifted it. "There, just like that, now try to push yourself up, and lift your other leg-"

Lovino could barely listen to what Antonio had to say, the rush of mortification ringing in his ears - he felt like such a child, to have to be instructed how to climb a stupid tree, and he could not possibly bring himself to climb; already he could feel the tingling burning of the muscles in his arms struggling to pull himself up. Antonio seemed to feel how much he was struggling, and gently let him down. Lovino was looking at the floor, still feeling the left over self-consciousness and refusing to look at Antonio.

"I guess we'll just have to try it next time," Antonio said, eyes kind as he looked at Lovino. He paused, thoughtful. "Well, if climbing isn't something we could do, why don't we do something a bit toned down?"

Lovino could not help but roll his eyes, feeling his chagrin wear off as Antonio decided to kindly change the subject away from climbing. "Like what? Go on for a stroll? Hardly exciting at all."

"Oh, Lovino, we already strolled here!" Antonio said, walking over to his little trunk. He flipped it open, pulling out a small rod and line. "We'll just be fishing for dinner."

"That sounds boring." Lovino said, following Antonio as the Spaniard walked to the edge of the river, crate and fishing rod in tow. Next, a bit of worry could not help but leak into his voice. "And, dinner?"

Antonio caught onto the troubled tone of his voice, and plopped the crate down. "Don't worry, it's not a date or anything-"

Lovino flushed. "Ugh, no you idiot - I'm not worried about something stupid like that! It's just," Lovino paused mid-sentence, remembering what Vincezo had asked him.

...Just, come back before dinner.

"I don't think I should really stay that long."

"Ah, got a curfew to follow, huh?" Antonio commented, motioning for Lovino to take a seat on the crate, to which Lovino refused, and sat next to the Spaniard on the floor.

"Well, not really," Lovino said, and Antonio placed some bait onto the hook. "I'm not supposed to be here."

Antonio did not seem too surprised.

"Do not worry, then." Antonio smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "I'll get you back home before sunset."

"Okay."

Lovino watched Antonio tilt the rod back behind them, before letting his arm snap forward at the elbow, launching the rod out into the middle of the lake. Little ripples formed and moved out, and Lovino watched as his reflection became slightly distorted. He could see Antonio's relaxed expression reflected in the water, too.

"I once caught a beautiful fish at this spot. It was so wonderful that I decided to let it go."

"I don't believe you." Lovino murmured. The wind blew and rustled the leaves above them.

"Oh, Lovino, it would have been a terrible act to not let it go - you should have seen it, it was-"

"Not that. Idiot."

"Then let me catch it again, Lovino, and I'll show you." Antonio said tenderly. Lovino did something that was not quite a smile, but it was close enough - it must have been because he was tired, just a bit, from the day.

"And then we'll let it go?"

"Of course."

Antonio tugged slightly on the line. Lovino closed his eyes.

x

"...Cariño." Lovino shifted, eyes closed. Vincezo's voice sounded too young, too happy, but after letting the voice sit in his mind for a moment, he realized it was not Vincezo. The air was warm, and Lovino could hear the soft chirping of crickets and the crackling of a fire. He opened his eyes to the little campsite Antonio had set up, and he was leaning against something warm, something breathing. "Have a good nap?" Antonio asked, eyes strikingly green in the deep orange glow of the fire.

Lovino's throat was dry from sleep, and he cleared it with an awkward cough. "...Yes, I did."

"I didn't want to wake you," Antonio said like an apology, but still smiled mildly. "But it was getting a bit late..."

At the mention of being late, Lovino felt himself jolt awake, sitting up and away from the Spaniard. He gave a panicky look to the sky - it was deep blue, and faded into a soft yellow-orange near the horizon.

"Shit." Lovino murmured, eyebrows scrunching. "I've got to go."

Antonio stood up, brushing off his worn pants. He offered Lovino a hand, which Lovino took hesitantly, too stubborn to return the Spaniard's gentle smile. "Let's get you home, then."

x

Vincezo sat in his seat as Feliciano set the table with the food he had cooked, courtesy of Lovino's shopping trip. While he was not an impatient man, nor one who distrusted others easily, he was a stern man. His frost gaze made Feliciano look away, and the young boy took his seat at the table.

"Did you see Lovino today?" A sharp look, not meant to intimidate, but nonetheless did so.

"W-well, no, I didn't, father." Feliciano said, looking into his lap, feeling as if he had done something wrong, even if he had not.

Vincenzo didn't say anything, only letting out a clipped sigh.

"Just eat, Feliciano." The older man excused himself from the table, leaving Feliciano by himself.

"Father, where are you going?"

"Out." Was all he replied with, intent on finding Lovino, and dragging him back home.