Weeks passed and it became a routine. Three days a week, after Lovino's shift ended, they would go and drink coffee together. Sitting in the same café every time, at the same seat, they talked.
Lovino talked about his parents and brother, about how they moved to Rome looking for a way to support themselves; about the school he attended, and about how the city was different from his hometown. Feliciano tried to talk about as many things and to stay as true as he could. He told him about his grandfather who passed away when he had been a kid, about a relative in Austria who had taken him in, about his German and Japanese friends. He said he worked in a government office.
Lovino didn't tell him more about him and his life, and Feliciano didn't tell him about his brother. There was a gap between them, one that was understandable. He felt that if he didn't tell Lovino about Romano, the distance wouldn't be closed between them. But it had only been 2 months and he didn't want the memory that always came with a metallic scent and red in his vision to resurface, the memory that was so strong it overcame all the good ones, of sunshine and intertwined fingers, of tears and rare honesty, of scowl and swear words.
Maybe one day he would be ready to talk about that again. Maybe one day he would be able to forget. But he wanted to bridge the gap before everything became too far for him to grasp. He took the first step in their fourteenth talk.
He asked for Lovino's cell number. He had thought he would never get one when the darker-haired male stared at him with a frown, his olive eyes calculating. But then he only said, "If only you're a girl, I would fucking be in the Heaven right now, dammit."
Feliciano couldn't help it when he chuckled, not because of the words but of the too familiar tone, and they exchanged cell number.
Maybe it was still too early to say that the distance between them had been closed even by an inch, but it was the first step and he was fine with that.
-o-
The first text message sent between them, surprisingly, came not from him but from Lovino. That day when he was working, nose deep into the mountain of paper, his cell vibrated and Feliciano almost couldn't believe his eyes.
sorry to bother you.
are you free tomorrow?
He stared at the message for a while, the inside of his stomach bouncing around, before taking a look at his calendar. Tomorrow wasn't Lovino's shift. What could it possibly be then? His fingers trembled slightly from a pleasant anxiety when he typed the answer.
I think so. why?
He left his paperwork to stare at the cellphone clutched in his hands, waiting for the reply almost excitedly. The reply didn't come until about 5 minutes later, and during that time his eyes had finished scanning around the room, looking for little bits that had been left when the office was rearranged back then, 2 years after the incident. The wall had been repainted and the unused desk had been moved out, giving him more space to walk around the room in his short break time. The old couch stayed, even though it was in a poor enough condition and the pattern had mostly faded, a proof of his inability to truly forget, no matter how much he wished he could.
The vibration of his cellphone snapped him back to reality and he was grateful for that.
my brother's soccer match is tomorrow and I have to go watch because my mom has a job that day. little fucker keeps bugging me that he wants to see you. so if you don't have anything to do, how about going with me to the match?
Lovino's little brother. (Not) His brother's little brother.
It should be him.
But it wasn't.
Why was it not?
He bit his lower lip and tried to swallow the jealousy that started to build inside him.
sure! you'll pick me up tomorrow?
Feliciano was a man that was far from being reasonable most of the time, but now was one of the rare times he actually realized he was. It was funny, really, because it was childish. He knew he acted like a kid who was unwilling to share what was his. He had long since overcame that period so he didn't know what to do when the feeling came again after decades.
yeah. just meet me at the store. you know you don't really have to go if you don't want to
After all, his brother wasn't his anymore now, was he?
it's okay :D I want to! see you tomorrow
-o-
Lovino was in his school uniform when he came, his backpack slung over his left shoulder. Feliciano managed a smile that he hoped looked as happy as he wanted it to be.
But he knew that he had failed when Lovino eyed him for a moment that felt too long, not frowning or scowling. He just looked at him with a what seemed like guilt.
"You didn't have to agree if you don't want to," He said with a sigh. "Even to me, that request sounded pretty annoying. You must have a lot to do."
Feliciano shook his head so hard he saw stars for a while. "No, I want to come, really. I want to meet your brother too." He tried to smile reassuringly, and much to his relief this time it came out more genuine. "And I love soccer, ve."
"If you say so," Lovino quirked an eyebrow before turning around on his heels. "The match will start in half an hour. We have to go now if we don't want to be late."
Feliciano let his smile dissipate and walked after him, managing to catch his pace. They didn't talk much during the walk, and when they were inside the bus they didn't get any seat so they settled with being squished by large men with work suit and loud students with sweaty uniform. The cold lump that had been staying inside his chest since the day before seemed to be forgotten for a moment in the uncomfortable position, and Feliciano found himself being comforted by the familiar swearing muttered in a low voice next to him.
Fortunately, the ride was short, and after what felt like agonizing hours, they stepped out of the bus 15 minutes later.
"Fuck those fuckers who can't shut their damn mouth for even a second," Lovino panted and wiped his brow. "I wished I could just stuff their damn mouth with those smelly uniform they're wearing."
Feliciano chuckled and patted his back. "It's all over now, so let's just go, ve. How long do we have before the match starts?" Lovino straightened himself before looking at his watch, and them standing side by side like that, Feliciano realized for the first time that just like his brother, Lovino was slightly taller, even though now he was younger.
"We still have 15 minutes to get a seat and do much more shit. It's just a minor match anyway. Come on."
Just like Lovino had said, the bench weren't even half full when they came. There were several parents shooting pictures of their kids with their cell (to which Lovino rolled his eyes) but mostly just sat on the bench watching their children do warm-up or gather with their team. The darker brunette plopped down on a bench situated in the center and patted the spot next to him. Feliciano sat down and took the time to observe the scene around him, eyes wide with enthusiasm. He always loved soccer match, in school nonetheless. He loved watching young boys and girls run around in the field, breathless but had the spirit of fire, turning the field into their own world. He loved the fact that even in this world reeking with crimes and twisted with unjustness, they were still able to retain their innocence.
"You look like this is your first time going to a match," He turned around and smiled at Lovino's amused expression.
"I've always loved soccer match, ve!"
"Figures," Lovino smirked and turn his gaze to the field. "Guess which one is my idiot little brother. Guess right, and you'll earn a free lunch at my house."
Trying to ignore the sting the nickname brought, Feliciano ran his eyes through the boys huddling in both sides of the field. Since they were gathered in circles, most of them had their backs on him.
"Oh, and you have to guess now. When the match starts, it'll be too easy." Feliciano heard the smirk in his voice and felt a smile threatened to break into his face at the nostalgia. He feigned a pout instead.
"No fair, Romano."
"Then you won't get free lunch," Lovino's smirk turned into a grin at the sight of his dispirited expression. "Though I bet that wouldn't be any problem for you."
"It would," He meant it when he said it, but Lovino only rolled his eyes and turned his gaze back to the field. Feliciano narrowed his eyes and tried harder. The match could start in any moment now, and he didn't want to 'lose', no matter how childish that sounded. Because he could easily imagine his brother doing this to mask his true intention: to invite him to lunch. He believed Lovino wasn't any different. But much to his dismay, the whistle was blown and both teams started pouring into the field.
"Guess you lose," He was too busy feeling dejected that he missed the ghost of a teasing smile passing through the darker brunette's face. "Quit looking so fucking gloomy and start watching, you sappy moron." Feliciano had expected a hit that wasn't really meant to his head, but he got a slap on the back instead, with enough force to jolt his shoulders but gentle enough it spread warmth throughout his body and his heart.
As he had thought, when the match started it became easier to track which boy was possibly Lovino's brother. A boy on the offense caught his attention almost immediately. His hair was reddish in the harsh midday sunlight and his eyes were bright lemon green. Despite the difference, his face had the subtle similarity to Lovino's to his brother and it wasn't difficult to get the guess right. But as he watched the little boy, Lovino's his brother's brother, he felt the jealousy, no longer cold deep down in his chest but flaring hot like the blinding sun above, burning the inside of him.
Lovino's his brother's younger brother looked almost nothing like him. His hair was reddish (but then wasn't his like that too?) and the green of his eyes was very different from the olive of Lovino's. When he laughed as they scored the first goal, the stretch of his lips was wide and the curve of his eyebrows was gentle, very unlike his brother, who in the rare moment when he laughed, his mouth didn't open as wide and the curve of his eyes and brows was less relaxed.
As he watched the boy, face gleaming with sweat and hair tossed backward by the wind as he ran, and convinced himself that that boy looked nothing like his brother, he couldn't ignore the small taunting whisper in the back of his mind.
But then again, doesn't that apply to you too?
-o-
Feliciano thanked the God that his expression had returned to normal by the time they walked down into the field. Lovino's brother noticed them and waved goodbye to his teammates before jogging to them, his smile was so wide it looked like it could split his face in two (and oh, God knew how much Feliciano wanted that).
"Lovi!" He came to a halt before them, panting slightly. His bright green eyes landed on his brother and the smile turned into a grin. "Did you see that? We won!"
"Stop with that silly nickname, and I know, I watched the entire match, you moron," Lovino frowned and flicked his forehead with his index finger. "You were so high I thought you were going to fucking blow yourself up or something."
"You really can't say something nice for once, can you?" The boy grinned, unperturbed by the treatment. Then his eyes landed on Feliciano, and his face brightened even more. "Oh, hi!"
"Hi!" Feliciano hated to admit that he couldn't force himself to even start hating this kid, no matter how much it hurt to see the words and the actions that were supposed to be reserved only for him was directed at the boy instead. But even so, the white hot jealousy burning inside him was still there. "Nice match, ve! Romano asked me to come watching you. He said you want to see me?"
The boy nodded fervently. "Yep! He told me about meeting a guy who looks so much like him you're like twins. We don't look that much alike, so I want to meet you, and maybe figuring out who you really are," He grinned and dodged another flick to the head from his brother. "Maybe you're our long lost sibling or the kind."
"Ignore that part. He reads too much fantasy," Lovino grumbled, rolling his eyes. "So Feliciano, this is my idiot little brother who spends most of his time kissing the feet of our national team's players in the poster in his room rather than practicing real soccer, Marcello. Marcello, this is Feliciano. Oh, and I still don't know your surname."
Feliciano chuckled lightly at the description and watched as Marcello aimed a kick at Lovino's shin but the older dodged it in time, smirking smugly. "Ve, well, it's not that important."
"It makes you more mysterious," Marcello laughed light-heartedly and held out his hand. "Nice to meet you, Feliciano. And I don't kiss their feet, I only admire them! You'll come to our place and have lunch, right?"
Feliciano took the outstretched hand in a firm handshake. "I would, but-"
"He lost a bet with me, so he won't," Lovino cut in. He earned a disapproving look from his younger brother and scowled. "What?"
"You're such a kid sometimes," Marcello mumbled and ducked in time for the swat. He turned to Feliciano and grinned to him. "Come with us, Feliciano. Don't listen to my brother." He leaned upward to whisper. "I bet he thinks it will hurt his pride if he says it out loud that he too actually wants you to come with us."
Feliciano only smiled at the words and tried to ignore the aching from the familiarity.
They left the school after Marcello got changed and took another bus. The Vargas' house was located in the more suburban part of the city. It was small and the paint in some places had been peeled off. But it had a nice little yard, with patches filled with flowers, several of which needed weeding, and a makeshift goalpost on the other side with a tattered soccer ball inside. The hinges of the front door made a shrilled squeaking noise when Lovino pushed it open, and they stepped into a narrow hallway with windows on the side, creating squares of light on the floor. Marcello padded into a another hallway while both Lovino and Feliciano entered the kitchen.
"Make yourself at home, or whatever, I don't know what to say to a guest," Lovino remarked absently as he inspected the content of the refrigerator. Feliciano smiled a bit and sat down on a chair near the table, watching Lovino's slightly hunched back. He took the time to inspect the room. The kitchen was small, with the refrigerator in the corner and the sink just across the table. There was a handmade rack for spices nailed to the wall and a dish rack next to the sink. Lovino moved to open the window above the sink and let the breeze blow in, cooling the temperature of the room by a bit. The kitchen was nothing like the one he they had, and Feliciano thought as he watched Lovino start preparing lunch, that his brother wasn't supposed to be in this kitchen, with limited space to move around and the refrigerator that wasn't filled full to every inch with ingredients.
"Do you want help?" He swallowed the thought and tried to ask, but Lovino answered him with a shake of his head.
"Nah, it's okay. I like it better when I'm doing this alone," He studied a tomato he picked from the refrigerator before glancing at the him. "Are you okay with pizza? Sicilian pizza, since I don't have any fucking idea how to make that abnormal shit you people of Rome call pizza."
"Yeah, it's okay," Feliciano choked slightly as a lump started forming in his throat. "I'm fine with that." He managed a small smile but the corner of his lips was shaky and the smile was far from assuring. Lovino eyed him for another moment, seemingly unsure, but before he could say anything Marcello came into the room.
"Do you want juice, Feliciano? It's really hot today," He gave him a wide smile and swung the refrigerator door open. "Sorry, our house is small."
"Not at all," Feliciano managed to smile more smoothly this time. "And yes, ve, juice please!"
"Right away!" Marcello made a playful salute and went to take the glass with a carton of juice in one hand. Lovino wrinkled his nose in disgust at the sight of the juice.
"You still drink that chemical junk,"
"And you still make such a big deal out of it," Marcello shot back lightly, pouring the juice into 2 glasses. "Everyone drink this nowadays, and it's organic!" He pointed the big blue lettering on the carton. Lovino snorted.
"Then you're really a dickhead to believe that poor shit of a lie."
Marcello just laughed lightly at the sharp retort. "The world is a lie, isn't it? We just need to learn to live with it."
"I'm glad you're actually able to learn something useful," Marcello shrugged his sarcasm off with a laugh. He brought the glasses to the table and offered Feliciano one. "What are you making, Lovi?"
"I'm tired of telling you, don't call me that fucking girly nickname." Lovino shot him a glare across his shoulder. "Pizza. Have any problem with it?"
"Nope," Ignoring the first comment, Marcello emptied the content of his glass in few gulps and walked over to the counter, peering at the ingredients scattered across it. "Sicilian? When will you start learning make the Roman one?" He said with a teasing smile.
"Shut up, little fucker," He managed to nudge his little brother away with his elbow while cutting the tomatoes. "I refuse to call that shit pizza."
"You'll never get a job as a cook like this, you know."
"Mind your own business! Who do you think got you that stupid poster when it was sold out everywhere?!"
All the while, Feliciano watched. He watched the brothers' harmless quarrel and Lovino's back moving around the room in fluid and graceful movements just like his brother. He had thought that he had already experienced the most painful thing that the world could throw anything at him and he wouldn't really feel anything anymore, but he could feel his heart bled as he watched his brother talked to and teased and got angry at a little brother that wasn't him. No, actually ever since he'd met Lovino, new wounds had started forming and old ones reopening. Yet there he was, unwilling to let go of the young man who he knew wasn't his brother but still stubbornly wanted to believe that he was.
He was so deep in thought that when he blinked back to reality, the meal had been served before him, the smell invaded his nostrils pleasantly. Marcello took a seat across him and Lovino was distributing plates. He eyed him with his olive green eyes when he handed him his plate but didn't say anything. They started to eat after the prayer was said and then the only sound filling the kitchen was the clinking of utensils against the dishes. Marcello tried to fill the silence with light conversation, but Feliciano didn't really pay attention. Because as soon as the warm pizza touched his tongue, everything came rushing into him.
"Get that thing out of my eyes!"
"Ve, fratello, you should try it, just once, please?" Veneziano smiled a bit at the disgusted expression his brother was wearing. He couldn't say that he wasn't hurt by the harsh refusal, but he knew that it was reasonable. And his brother being himself, there was no "nice" word in his dictionary for anything that was influenced by another country.
"No, fucking no. I don't want to eat anything that has the fucking pervert's smell in it." Romano pushed the plate away, glaring at his brother's smile. "Don't smile, stupid Veneziano."
"There's no snail in it, you know."
"But it's stuffed with meat!"
"Ve…" Veneziano faltered. "But…"
Romano sighed in irritation, but when he spoke his tone was softer. "I'll make you another one, a real one." He stood from his seat and with a long stride he was in the kitchen. "Really… If you too start with those bastards influence, who will keep and respect our culture?"
'It's you who needs to adapt with the world's situation. This is why your people stay agricultural, and stay poor.' Veneziano bit back the comment. He was a bit angry but it would not justify him if he said the thought out loud. It was a sensitive topic for both of them, and he knew how much Romano would be hurt if he did say that. So he only sighed and chewed his pizza half-heartedly.
The argument wasn't something new. It happened everytime pizza was served for lunch. Veneziano had started to grow tired of it, but Romano was unrelenting. His brother always had that stubbornness in least expected places.
Despite had been angry from the moment before, Veneziano couldn't suppress the smile that started to form in his face when his brother put the warm pizza with a loud thunk on the table. "There." He threw himself onto the seat across the northern half and gave him an expecting look. "Let's eat."
Even though the argument was getting old and he was getting tired of it, Veneziano never really mind it, because the strong and familiar taste of his brother's cooking, of earth and of salty air and of golden sun, would never grow old and hadn't changed. Just like his brother himself, all stubborn scowl and biting words and hidden kindness, didn't change and would never change.
He wasn't sure the wide smile blooming on his face was from the thought or from the meal, but when he lifted his face, Romano was smiling too. The proud and satisfied smile that could be mistaken as a smirk, but it held gentleness in it, because he wasn't proud with himself, but of his people and of his land. "How is it?"
"It's delicious!" His answer was always the same, his brother's smile which would turn into a smirk was always the same, but he would never want it to change.
"Heh, you fucking tell me."
Feliciano wondered why his eyes suddenly felt hot and his vision began to blur. He lowered his head and tried to hold back the sob, but the memory was vivid inside his head, and he found himself sobbing silently. He had cried so much since that day 20 years ago, but he wondered why his tears hadn't dried yet.
"Feliciano?" It was Marcello, worry was clear in his voice. "What's wrong? Is it bad? Do you feel sick?"
"Sorry," He choked, shaking his head and watching the tears glimmering on his lap before soaking his pants. "It's good, it's really good. I'm just…"
Because it had changed.
Romano's people were still agricultural, the air in Naples was still salty and smelled of the sea, the pizza from the south still characteristically tasted strong with olive oil, fresh tomatoes, fish, and all kind of spices, but his brother was gone.
It had changed because his brother had been a liar.
There was silence for a moment as he let his tears out freely.
"Do I resemble that person that much?" When Lovino spoke, his voice was soft and he cried harder on the question. "He must be someone really important for you."
"He was," It was all that he managed to say between his sobbing.
"Marcello's out, so cry all you want," He felt Lovino didn't shift on his seat, but he wanted to believe that the warmth and sympathy in his tone was more than enough for now.
From this chapter onward, I'll use Lovino to refer in 3rd person to the human who resembles Romano, though Feliciano would still call him Romano.
Maybe everyone have already known, but I'll include this note here for anyone who might not know.The cuisine is different in North Italy and South Italy. North cuisine is influenced by its neighboring countries such as France and Austria and they mostly use butter and meat in the dish. As for the South cuisine, it is simpler and traditional, characterized by its strong flavor and the usage of ingredients such as olive oil, fresh vegetables, and fish. But then again, every region in Italy has their own character of cuisine, and their people have strong sentiment for their region so the competitive feelings is understandable.
I learn about this from the manga Gunslinger Girl, and I still don't know much about Italy, so if I make a mistake, please do tell me. Constructive criticisms and reviews are much appreciated.
Thank you for reading :)