Heheh, uh, hey y'all. One day shy of a year since I've posted. Damn, time flies... Well, I can sit here and make up excuses for y'all, but the reality is: life. Life got in the way and then I completely ignored this story, along with just about every single story on my account. So for this, I am sorry. I can't say when the next update will be, but the sad truth is I've had this sitting in Google Docs for...a year, now. And I think it's high time I post it. I'm still annoyingly busy, and I spend a total of 14 hours at school a day (all without a computer), so yes. If I continue my updates, they will be scarce. I apologize.

For this chapter, the instrument I originally picked...Is not what I ended up with. I will state at the end, for those who care, the reason for this.

*Names will be repeated, as this is an easier format for me.

Thank you for following:

JangHani31699, FantasyLover100, PlaysxWithxKyuubi, YGOfangirl4ever, Helkavana, TheAwesomePandaChan, Dragonfire78, TheLieon, 17craftytigers, jetblackrose9922, Midnight Alexis Thorn

Favoriting:

FantasyLover100

And for the reviews:

Mio-san (You are amazing), Super-dash (I promise I haven't dropped this, just...Life, ya know?), Dragonfire78 (Glad you enjoy! ^-^)

~Never~Giving~In~

This was great. Fan-fucking-tastic. Why would he expect his luck to go any other way? All he did was get his lunch. He was going to go to the table in the corner like he always does, listen to music like usual, and afterward go to the music wing to practice. But on his way to his table, some bastard stuck their foot out, just before he could notice. The result? Falling to the ground, losing his grip on his lunch tray and watching everything spill out in front of him. He watched his apple hit the ground to be bruised, his taco breaking it's shell and the meat and miscellaneous ingredients flooding out. Yeah, it was taco day. He didn't have those too often. His water bottle had burst on contact with the floor, the clear liquid shooting out in all directions before pooling on the ground. Unfortunately for him, it was close enough to splash on him when it blew, the pool reaching his chest.

Grunting, he'd gotten up on his elbows, hearing shuffling behind him while the room fell silent. When he turned, he found the Scottish bastard standing above him. Wonderful. Absolutely wonderful. The next thing he knew, he was face to face with the Scot, but he didn't hear any of the guy's words. His brain didn't exactly focus. The only words he'd heard was 'runt' and 'useless', which seemed about right considering who was in front of him. He figured out that he was being held off the floor by the man with a simple grasp of his shirt collar. His hands instinctively went to Allistor's hands in an attempt to pry him off.

He felt a hit on his face, his head whipping to the right from the sheer force of the impact. His back made contact with something, the wind being knocked out of his lungs. He figured out that he was thrown to the ground when he turned on his side, feeling a kick to his stomach. He coughed, striving for air to get back to his lungs. "Oh, look at 'im! He looks so helpless~." Snickers could be heard all around the cafeteria. Allistor knelt down, close to Lovino's face. "So, ya queer. I'll tell you how you can get me to stop. Wanna know the secret?" He asked. Lovino refused to respond. "Since I know how much of a fag ya are, why don't you suck my cock, pretty boy?" He said, getting a good fit of laughter erupting and having a smirk of his own on his smug face.

Lovino looked up at Allistor, recovered from his coughing fit. Damn, did he wanna beat the guy up. He got to a kneeling position, and got right in the Scot's face. "Go. Fuck yourself, stronzo. We all know that's the only way you get any action," he said, his voice loud enough to be heard by the surrounding tables. The people at said tables "ooo"'d at the comment. Lovino knew it wasn't the smartest choice in words, but really. The guy was already going to beat his ass, so what did it matter? Might as well say what he thought.

The Italian stood up at full height, and turned to begin walking away. If he could get away now, that'd be great.

But Allistor had other plans.

The red-headed male, growling, grabbed Lovino by the shoulder, spinning him around. His fist made contact with the Italian's jaw, making Lovi stumble back some. Lovino regarded the other with a glare. "You fucking Scottish bastard, leave me alone, dick!" He yelled, kicking the Scot in the stomach out of defense. The audience around stared in shock, unable to believe this was their show. What they didn't count on was how much Lovino's anger drives his movements. Lovi backed up slightly in an attempt to slip away.

Allistor looked at Lovino, pure anger in his eyes. Grabbing the Italian's shoulders, he kneed him in the stomach. "Ye worthless piece o' crap!" Before Lovi could double over, Allistor grabbed his hair-like before- and made him look him in the eye. "It's a wonder yer still around, with yer sailor mouth, ya know that?" He reeled back his arm, ready to throw another punch. Lovino didn't give him the satisfaction of seeing him flinch as the fist made contact again on his cheek bone. The Scot reeled back again to make another blow, but the fist was stopped this time.

Looking behind Allistor, Lovi saw Arthur grabbing onto Allistor's arm to keep him from throwing the punch. This confused the Italian, but he didn't object. "Arthur, what the hell are ya doin'?!" Allistor asked, annoyance clear on his features.

"Well what the bloody hell does it look like I'm doing?" Arthur snapped. "Leave him alone!"

Allistor rolled his eyes before using his restrained hand to punch his brother off of him, hitting Arthur in the jaw. "Get outta here, prat," he ordered. Arthur cupped his jaw, glaring at his brother before Francis ran over to him.

"You really are an asshole..." Lovino muttered, trying to pry the hand off his head. Allistor flashed him a look in response.

"If we're gonna start pointing out the obvious, you should die in a fucking hole."

Right then, Antonio stood in the line of sight between the two teens, scowling at Allistor. "Let him go," he ordered.

Amused, the Scot responded, "And what fun would that be? I'm only putting him in his place!" He shook Lovino's head for emphasis making said boy grunt.

The Spaniard grabbed the man's arm, grip firm. "Let. Him. Go."

They stared each other down for a few moments before Allistor pushed Lovino out of his grip. "Whatever," was his only word as he walked away.

Antonio sighed, letting his shoulders slouch a bit. Thank god that was over. Smiling brightly, he turned to Lovino, who was investigating his now wet shirt. "Are you alright?"

Lovino lifted his head to glance at the man before him, letting his eyes meet with the others. With a grunt, he slid his hands into his pockets. Antonio's smile wavered slightly with the lack of response. Looking the Italian over, he patted his shoulder and began to lead him back to his table. "Come on, amigo!"

Lovi backed up. "What the fuck? What do you want?" He snapped.

"For you to come with me," was the reply, as if it were the simplest and most obvious thing in the world. Before Lovi could protest, he was pulled to the lunch table by the wrist. God, this kid was annoying, he thought. Why did he just think that he could pull him wherever the hell he pleased?

"I'm fine, Francis. Don't worry," the Brit assured the French native, who kept pestering him about his face. Looking up, he smiled at Lovino and gave a nod of greeting.

Matthew looked up. "Hey Lovino, are you alright?" He asked quietly.

Lovi nodded at the soft-spoken individual, a small smile on his face. Someone who was familiar. Matthew was someone who would come over to their house every now and then. Feli liked to hang out with Kiku, who hung around Alfred. So sometimes, when Kiku came over, Alfred would drag his brother along. Matt didn't always like hanging around them- they were great and all! Just very loud, as he'd explained. So Feli would tell him that he could go to Lovi's room and see if he'd hang out. And he'd always say yes. "Si, I'm fine." Matthew gave a small smile and nodded. Grabbing some of the napkins on the table, he offered them to Lovino so he could clean himself up. He took them with a small thank you and began to try ridding himself of the water on his shirt.

"I'm sorry for my brother," Arthur said, looking at the Italian with an apologetic look. "Don't take it personally- he's just a giant arse."

"Damn straight he's an ass," Lovino mumbled. He kept rubbing at his shirt, but the water spot refused to go. Sighing, he shook his head. Time for plan B. Grabbing the shirt by the hem, he pulled the it up and over his head. He had no problem doing this, because he had an undershirt on at all times. Although, the tanktop did make him feel uncomfortable.. He'd just stop by his locker later and grab his jacket. But at least this way, he wouldn't have a giant water spot on him, and the black undershirt didn't show any water.

Turning around, he waved to the others before beginning to walk away. "Wait!" Antonio said, placing his hand on the younger boy's shoulder. This earned him a glare. "Why don't you stick around? There's an extra seat here!" He offered, a bright smile in place.

"Yeah, no thanks. I'd rather not. Now hand off, bastardo!" He ordered, smacking at Antonio's hand.

Undeterred, the Spaniard persisted. "But you haven't even eaten! Come on, you can sit here and hang out wi-!"

Lovino rolled his eyes. "I don't want to, understand me?"

Antonio furrowed his brows, not understanding. "Why not?"

"I don't want to sit with assholes like you," he responded, gesturing to Antonio, Francis and Gilbert. "You can try and act all nice, but don't think that I'm fucking dumb. I know what assholes you guys are. I don't want to be around the likes of you," he spat, words dripping with venom.

"Well you're just an anti-social kid, aren't ya," Gilbert commented under his breath. But Lovino still heard it.

Francis looked to Gilbert, his voice just as loud as the other's. "He really is the complete opposite of his brother, huh."

"Damn straight."

Lovino glared daggers at the two. "I'm not naive like my brother, you stronzos! The only reason he hangs out with you guys is because of you damn potato eaters!" He explained, clearly pissed off as he pointed an accusing finger at Gilbert.

"How does being social mean he's naive?" Gilbert inquired, cocking his head in confusion.

Lovino simply shook his head. "If you can't understand yourself, then you're a goddam imbecile." With that, he backed up from the table and waved to Arthur and Matthew. "See you later Matt. Arthur." The two boys waved back to him, unfazed by his words to the trio, then went back to eating.

The next thing Antonio knew, Lovino was out the cafeteria, walking to the music wing. Yet there was one thing he couldn't get out of his head: Lovino's eyes. How expressive they could be. Granted, he'd been glaring at the three of them almost the entire time, but he saw the same look in his eyes like last time, in the restaurant. He still couldn't peg what the look was! It was beginning to annoy him. And the boy absolutely hated them! What was with that?! Granted, the group wasn't exactly nice to everyone, but what had they ever done to him? He sure as hell didn't know. Sighing, he sat back down and continued to eat.

"I wonder what that was all about," Francis commented. He earned shrugs from his friends. Looking over at Matthew and Arthur, he asked, "How are you two on such good terms with him?"

Matt shrugged and simply said, "I go to his house sometimes. And I have a few classes with him."

"Same...Except for going to his house," Arthur elaborated. Nods were given for acknowledgement. Miscellaneous conversations were passed around between the group, and at one point Mathias joined in with Tino and Emil. No more events transpired for the rest of the hour. And meanwhile, Antonio was off in his thoughts.

~Never~Giving~In~

Lovino walked down the hall, wet shirt resting over his arm and hands in pockets. Damn those guys. Granted, he was thankful for the Spaniard helping him out with the Scottish bastard. Don't get him wrong! But he didn't need to drag him back to his table. And really, how does being social make you naive?...Okay, maybe it doesn't make you naive, but really. He was antisocial because he knew how cruel others can be. And a lot of the time, it seemed as though Feliciano believed everyone was nice and courteous. No, that was just how they were raised. They were raised to be nice and courteous. And Feli was. He was too, but not to people his own age. Only children and adults. Everyone his own age are jerks (excluding Feli and Matthew. He would include Arthur, but he could be an ass when he wanted). They all think they're better than the other. Fucking cocky as hell.

Before Lovino knew it, he was at the orchestra room. He sighed. At least he was in his territory now. Walking in the doors, he went to the back of the room to grab his instrument, sitting in the racks provided. He took his instrument and went to a practice room. They had about six different ones, but he always went for the one in the far back corner. No one liked it because it was so far from the room, but he absolutely loved it. Not many people knew how spacious it was. It's the biggest practice room they have, though it's older than the others. All the others were polish white and fancy, but he liked the darker colour of the room. It's more neutral, and smells of wood from the "old" piano. The newer rooms had electric keyboards.

He pulled up a chair from the corner so it was in front of the piano, but behind the bench for said instrument. He placed the instrument strategically in between his legs- after pulling the endpin out and fixing it's height- and grabbed his bow. Running the bow across the strings, he played the two in the middle to hear the mix of the notes, tuning quickly due to so much practice of the procedure.

Once everything was tuned, he began to play a song by memory.

~Never~Giving~In~~End of the day~

Antonio strolled down the hallway, walking beneath a jutted out piece of the wall that read FINE ARTS in big bold letters. Normally, he never walks down this hall because only people from band, orchestra and choir come down here. But the bike rack was also just outside the exit doors down at this end. That's the thing- they have so many damn doors they can be found in every wing of the building. Math, English, business, music, physical education, the cafeteria, office, and in random miscellaneous places. Of course the second floor doesn't have any doors leading to the outside world.

Walking up to the double doors, ready to exit, he stopped dead in his tracks. There was music sounding through the halls, but it was very quiet. As if it were underwater. Looking at the door, he turned and began following the sound of music. It was very smooth- beautiful even! It was in a medium range with a deep sound, yet not like a bass. He began looking in the practice rooms, finding some people, but none of them were the one he was listening to. He thought he'd checked all practice rooms until he remembered there was one more- he'd found it when he came down to the music wing with his guitar.

Making his way to the back of the hallway, the music went from long, smooth strokes to quick and staccato. Yet it kept it's elegance. It wasn't rushed like most do when staccato, and it wasn't harsh, but elegant. When he made it to the room, he found it was open just the tiniest bit. No wonder he could hear were supposed to be sound-proof, but it didn't work when the door was open. Though it did block out most sound.

Holding his breath, he opened the door ever so slowly. There inside, was the last person he'd think was making such music. Brown hair with that stubborn curl coming off the side. His eyes were slid shut, oblivious to everything but the music. He was completely immersed. His fingers moved skillfully on the fingerboard of the...What was it? He'd say bass, but with the notes he was hitting, it couldn't be. What was it called...That's right, a cello. The Italian was playing a cello. Antonio looked beside him to find a chair. Slowly, so he wouldn't disturb the other, he sunk into the chair, listening intently. He couldn't believe it was Lovino who was making such...amazing music. Toni had never been one for orchestral music, but he knew good music when he heard it.

Lovino bowed his last note, his eyes finally opening and focusing on the neck of the instrument. He slowly set the bow its the holder and moved to grab his music binder from his backpack. He still had a piece to work on- the duet with his brother. But as he was reaching for the binder, he saw a figure from the corner of his eye. He turned his head completely to find the Spaniard sitting in one of the chairs in the room. Immediately his face turned to a scowl. "What are you doing in here! Don't you know that you never come in when someone is practicing?" He spat.

"Please, understand. It's just, I heard the music and-!" Antonio tried to explain.

The annoyed sophomore just pointed to the door. "I don't care. Out."

"But-!"

"Out."

Antonio watched the other a moment before standing and slowly walking out of the room, quietly shutting the door. He began to make his way to the bike racks as he mumbled quietly, "Well...That went well."

~Never~Giving~In~

Hey y'all. So, my original choice was a viola for Lovino. And, uh, I was communicating with Mio-san some time ago and as we spoke, they (or more accurately, their sister) had guessed cello. I said no, and at the time I had it typed out to be viola. I switched it back and forth a total of 4 times, unsure if I should change it to cello and after that I had decided viola...Then I reread it again today, before I decided "hey, I should post this", and I began listening to duets between viola/violin and violin/cello. I chose cello. SO! Mio-san is the reason/inspiration for the cello being Lovino's instrument.

Now, if I may be excused, I must work on homework. Till next time!

~I will not give in. I will never give in. No matter what what happens, I will fight.~