– CHAPTER 2 –

A Proposal

Lovino's routine as a novice was mostly dull. He would rise before the sun every day, despite having fallen asleep so late thanks to a combination of insomnia and a noisy Antonio, then he would meditate, pray, pray a little more, have breakfast, do his chores, study, pray, have lunch, have a few hours to do what he wanted, then pray, meditate, have dinner, pray, and then he would go to bed. The only thing that saved his days and his sanity were those few hours for himself after lunch. Some days he would have a siesta and recover those sleepless hours from the previous night; some other days, if he were feeling up to it, he would sneak out into the town and flirt with the girls or try to get some money.

However, there were some chores that he actually enjoyed, such as, for example, collecting donations from the church-goers.

"Good morning, Miss Guccini," he said in his smoothest voice and with his perfected gentlemanly smile. "You look particularly lovely today. If I may be so bold, that new dress really suits you."

Miss Guccini, a young lady about Lovino's age, giggled a little, pink spots colouring her cheeks. She had obviously been hoping he would notice that she was wearing a new dress.

"Good morning to you, too, Lovino. I'm glad you like it, thank you. Oh, and what have I told you? You can call me Andrea."

"If you insist, Andrea."

Now her face was bright red.

"I heard from Bella that you're going to perform a solo," she said, trying not to stammer. "I look forward to it."

"I would be immensely flattered if you came to watch the choir. Your presence would be very inspiring to me."

Andrea swooned. Really, Lovino didn't even have to try too hard these days to get that kind of reaction. Before she could do something silly like faint, Lovino raised the small wooden box in his hands and asked for donations. A little flustered, Andrea fumbled with her thin money bag and took a few coins to drop them into the box. Then, noticing Lovino's forlorn expression, she thought better of it and just dropped the entire contents of her bag.

"God bless you, Andrea," said Lovino with all the gratitude he could muster. She grinned back, delighted that she had made him smile again.

As she left to join the mass, Lovino had to congratulate himself. No lady could resist being a little more generous than usual in their donations when it was Lovino who asked them.

His triumphant smile vanished instantly when a large, calloused hand dropped a single small coin into the box. Lovino sneered down at it.

"That's it? Either give a proper donation or go to hell, you cheap bastard!"

The man addressed could only sputter in shock. Lovino gave him a disapproving look.

"May God have mercy on your greedy soul," he said, solemn.

Stammering out an apology, the man hurriedly added a few more coins before scurrying out of Lovino's sight.

It looked like everyone was present for the mass. Making sure no one was watching him, Lovino opened the lid of the box – it didn't have a lock, and even if it did, Lovino could have easily picked it – and pocketed about half of the money.

Indeed, collecting donations was one of his favourite chores. Not only did it give him the chance to flirt with the girls, it also gave him the opportunity for some profit. Even though he would take half the money from the box, it would still end up heavier than if the collector had been anyone else. Thanks to his charisma among the women and aggressive pressure on the men, Lovino could collect that much money. So, really, half the money was really given to him; it was rightfully his.

His job done, Lovino put away the donation box and went over to the organ. Everyone was still settling down and getting ready for the mass to begin, and the organ player had yet to arrive. Unnoticed, Lovino took a seat before it, stretched his fingers, and began to play the notes he had been rehearsing whenever he had had the opportunity. Deep, loud notes that started abruptly, lingered in agony and trailed off ominously, resulting in powerful music that struck deep into everyone's hearts. Lovino didn't even need to look at those people to know they had jumped at the unexpected sound of the first notes and had grown considerably pale as the music went on. He had carefully composed this melody so that it was the musical equivalent of Doomsday.

A warm, wrinkled hand landed heavily on his shoulder and squeezed it lightly, effectively cutting the organ music short. Lovino turned his head and looked up at the neutral face of Father Vinicius.

"Son. What are you doing?"

"Playing the organ," answered Lovino, but even he had to squirm a little under that cool, piercing gaze. He cleared his throat and added, "The player is late, so I was filling in for him."

"Very thoughtful of you," said Father Vinicius, his tone still painfully level. "However, it is not yet time for the organ music, nor is that the tune you were supposed to play. Also, you are frightening everyone."

"That was the point, Father!"

"Oh?"

"Yes! I wanted to make it sound just like Judgement Day. To put the fear of God into them and make them pray with more feeling in the mass. So, you see, I was just trying to help."

Father Vinicius just stared at him for a moment, his deadpan expression never changing. Then, with all the kind of patience normally attributed to saints, he replied, "I appreciate that you are dedicating yourself so much to saving everyone's souls, but at this rate you are going to send them to early graves. I think old Mrs. Puccelli almost had a heart attack."

"I am so deeply sorry, Father," said Lovino, but it didn't come out nearly as apologetic as he had planned.

Neither man said anything else for another minute, and Lovino began to feel uncomfortable again when Father Vinicius' stare went on for longer than usual. Lovino had always been a bit of a troublemaker, and Father Vinicius had put up with it with unyielding patience for years. Was this the last straw? Was this prolonged silence due to him thinking of some harsh punishment to dish out? Maybe he had finally decided to give in to Sister Benedetta's suggestion that it was necessary to beat discipline into him?

"My son..." Father Vinicius began, startling Lovino.

"What? I-I mean, y-yes, Father?"

"I want to have a serious talk with you when the mass is over." With that, he left to begin the now delayed mass.

Even though he was free from the pressure of that stern gaze, Lovino didn't feel relieved at all.

oOo

"F-Father... you wished to talk to me?"

He had put this meeting off for as long as possible. He knew he was in trouble and that whatever Father Vinicius had in mind for him was not going to be pleasant, whether it was a light scolding or a bloody beating a la Sister Benedetta. There was no need for anyone else to witness his humiliation. The church was now empty, save for the both of them, so he was finally able to work up the courage to approach the old priest.

"Indeed, but I distinctly remember telling you to meet me once the the mass was over, not hours after it."

"I'm sorry, I didn't want to interrupt you when you were talking to the people..."

"You are lying," Father Vinicius sighed, giving him the saddest look Lovino had ever seen on his tired, wrinkled face. "You took your time because you were scared. Why are you scared of me, my son? I am not going to hurt you. I never did and I never will."

Well, that was mildly reassuring, at least. Lovino relaxed just a little, but still couldn't quite meet the older man's eyes. Father Vinicius was the only one who could still make him feel like a little child.

"Come with me," ordered Father Vinicius, who then led him to his study and offered him a seat. Then, he resumed his silent staring.

This was too much. By now, Lovino had decided that no punishment Father Vinicius might come up with could be any worse than this. He wished the old man would just get it over with already and put him out of his misery. Come to think of it, maybe this was his punishment; maybe the plan was to torture him with anticipation.

"Let's be perfectly honest," said Father Vinicius all of a sudden. On second thought, maybe his plan was to give Lovino a heart attack; that would be an ironically appropriate punishment after Lovino scared the townspeople half to death with his music. "You don't really want to follow this path, do you?"

Lovino had to answer to that, since he wasn't sure what Father Vinicius was trying to imply.

"You curse, you lie, you are rude, you attack your brothers, you look at young ladies in inappropriate ways, you steal..."

Oh. Lovino flushed and lowered his gaze to his shaking hands. "I know I'm... impulsive, but... I always regret it later and – and I pray for forgiveness every day..."

"Can you honestly say you would make a good priest?"

The answer was so obvious that Lovino didn't deem it necessary to say anything. He just kept fidgeting, growing increasingly anxious. Were they kicking him out? That had to be it. Dear God above, what was he going to do? Even if he were allowed to keep the money he had collected, it wasn't enough to fend for himself, not even close. He had nowhere to stay, no one to help him, no way to make money, he would have to either spend the rest of his life begging for money on the streets or rob people and become a common thief and—

"So, I was wondering if you would be interested in leaving the monastery to start a new life as a nobleman."

Lovino let those words repeat themselves over and over in his head to see if they would make any more sense. They didn't.

"Count Russo recently told me that his youngest daughter is to inherit some of his lands near Monterosso," Father Vinicius began to explain.

Count Russo... Lovino was certain he had heard this name at some point, but he didn't know much else about that count. The man was a bit of a mystery; he owned lands somewhere near Monterosso – if memory served Lovino right – but he seemed to spend most of his time away or in reclusion, possibly both simultaneously. It was too easy to forget that he existed at all. Lovino hadn't even known that the count had children.

"However," continued Father Vinicius, with a sharp edge in his tone so as to catch Lovino's wandering attention back, "she can only inherit his land if she gets married. The count has been looking for a suitor, and when I told him about you, he was very interested."

If Lovino had been drinking anything, he was sure Father Vinicius would be sopping wet and wearing a very displeased expression right now.

"What? Me? What—What the—What did you tell him?" What lies did you tell him? was the real question going through his mind, but it probably wasn't a good idea to accuse a priest of being a liar. Lovino was fully aware of his own flaws, and as he had just found out, Father Vinicius was just as aware of them.

As if reading his mind – which he probably could do, the creepy old bastard, how else would he have found out about the donation box? – Father Vinicius graced him with a slightly lopsided smile and answered in his most pious voice, "I told him the truth; that you are a bachelor from a noble, powerful family."

With a groan, Lovino his his face, heated by humiliation, behind his hands. "My family is neither noble nor powerful. Not any more. Maybe it was sixty years ago, before my dear grandfather brought it to ruins," he spat bitterly. "Did you tell him that little detail, or did it conveniently escaped your mind, Father?"

Father Vinicius didn't even blink. "Actually, the count already knew of your family's history. He knew that your family lost most of its fortune—"

"All of it," muttered Lovino.

"—but he reassured me that that wouldn't be a problem. The fact that you have noble blood alone would have been more than enough, and he seemed to think that it was even more fortunate of him to find a descendant of Lord Romeo Vargas."

Lovino just stared at the priest as suspicion joined disbelief. He knew his grandfather had been famous and widely admired in his younger days, but that had been ages ago. Surely the name of his family no longer held any importance whatsoever? Either Count Russo was a desperate man, or there was some sort of horrible catch. Neither scenario sounded very appealing.

"Incidentally," said Father Vinicius, once again startling Lovino out of his panicky thoughts, "I have had the pleasure of meeting the count's daughter. A very lovely, demure young lady. She looks forward to meeting you."

"Father Vinicius..." Lovino hesitated and tried to sound as reasonable as possible, "This is so sudden. I don't know—"

"Why are you so wary, my son? Don't you see? This is the perfect opportunity." Father Vinicius stood up from his chair and slowly, deliberately walked around his desk as he spoke, until he was standing right behind Lovino. He rested a warm, fatherly hand on Lovino's shoulder. "I know you yearn for it, Lovino. Freedom... Independence... You are a devout man deep down, but life in the monastery is stifling you. That is why you lash out at those around you, isn't it? Just think about it. If you marry the count's daughter, you will regain the noble status and wealth that your family lost a long time ago, and you will be free to follow your own path."

There was something about Father Vinicius' words that didn't sit quite right, but Lovino just couldn't put his finger on it. The more he thought them over, however, the truer they sounded. He also felt a little touched that someone finally had a theory about his behaviour that didn't paint him as the bad guy. Everyone was always so quick to judge and condemn him, regardless of whether he deserved it or not, but Father Vinicius actually had faith in him.

He also thought about what his new life as the count's daughter's husband would be like. Indeed, he would be free from the monastery – no more boring duties, no more rigid schedule, no more idiotic novices, no more oppressive nuns, no more stealing. He would be filthy rich and never again have to lift a finger to work, for he would have dozens of servants to do all the work for him. He would be able to sleep as long as he wanted and indulge in his hobbies all day long. He could wear some nice clothes for once in his life and every meal would be a heavenly banquet. He would have his own luxurious manor and could come and go as he pleased, without having to ask for permission to leave or sneak out. It was everything he had always dreamt of!

It was also almost too good to be true, and he still suspected there had to be some kind of catch, but at this point, he didn't really care. If there even was a catch, how bad could it be? Life as a nobleman was life as a nobleman no matter what, and it had to be worth anything else.

"Well, Father, if you say so..." he said, barely able to hold back a grin, "I humbly accept—"

"Excellent!" replied Father Vinicius, a little too quickly. There was an almost desperate edge in his tone to match the odd glint in his eyes as he coaxed Lovino off of his chair and out of his study. "Excellent, son! I knew you would make the right choice. I must contact Count Russo right away so we can all start the preparations for the wedding as soon as possible. Congratulations! Oh, you must be eager to tell your friends about these wonderful news, so you had better hurry up before it is time for lunch. See you later, son, and God bless you!"

"I—"

Lovino didn't have the chance to get another syllable out, as the door slammed shut on his face. He still stood there for a moment, too nonplussed to even move. Then, hesitantly and throwing glances back at the door, he went off in search of Antonio. He had never seen the normally collected priest acting so fervently or speaking so fast. If Lovino hadn't known better, he would have thought that Father Vinicius had been anxious to make him leave.

Wait. That was it, wasn't it? "Start the preparations for the wedding as soon as possible," indeed. He, like any other resident of this damned monastery, just couldn't wait to get rid of the burden that was Lovino. No wonder he had been so adamant on convincing Lovino that this arranged marriage was a good idea. That manipulative old bastard.

Lovino supposed he shouldn't blame them; he had, after all, always made their life more difficult, both deliberately and inadvertently. If he were in their shoes, he would feel the same resentment. And yet... he couldn't help the sting in his chest at the thought that he had become so abhorrent that even Father Vinicius – a stern but ultimately kind figure, or so Lovino had always thought – was so eager to get rid of him. Father Vinicius, who had always looked after him in his moments of need and taken care of him when he had been ill, and who had become the closest thing to a father figure to him after his grandfather's death, actually despised him, as much as everyone else.

Whatever. Father Vinicius could go to hell for all Lovino cared. As soon as he married Count Russo's daughter, he wouldn't need him or anyone else in this godforsaken town. He would be better off without them! No matter how ill his intentions were, Father Vinicius still had done him a great favour by recommending him as a suitor. This was supposed to be a joyous occasion, and he was damn well going to rejoice rather than allow these hateful people to ruin it for him!

oOo

Breaking the news to Antonio was the right decision. His friend was very excited about it and congratulated and hugged him exhaustively. That was extremely annoying and embarrassing, of course, and Lovino berated him for being such an overreacting, touchy-feely fool. Inside, though, he felt much better. He was happy not only because his life was taking a turn for the better, after all – and trust Antonio to be an idiot and smugly point out, "I told you things would get better eventually!" – but also because this was someone who actually and sincerely was happy for him, a real friend.

Obviously, Lovino would never acknowledge such a thing out loud. Antonio was annoying enough as it was; no need to make things even soppier.

Despite Father Vinicius' hurry to contact the Russos, they were only able to meet two weeks later, at the manor that the couple would inherit once they were married. The place was so huge that Lovino was sure he would get lost in there in the first weeks unless he carried a map. It was maybe a little too dark for his tastes, but it was clean, comfortable, and the décor was rich and tasteful, as expected from the house of a noble family.

And then, for the first time, Lovino, accompanied by Father Vinicius, met the almost legendary Count Russo.

Giovanni Russo, as he introduced himself, was almost the entire opposite of what Lovino had imagined him to look like. First of all, the man looked much younger than he could possibly be; in fact, his features were reminiscent of a child's, with a round, chubby face and a wide, guileless smile. His face was ghastly pale, yet somehow full of energy – he must be that pale not out of sickness, but due to spending so much time indoors, Lovino assumed. Another characteristic that really struck Lovino as odd was the count's physique; he was tall, very, very tall, probably the tallest man Lovino had ever seen. On top of it, he was obviously strong. Not muscular, exactly, or fat. He was just a really big man overall, the kind of person who, should he fall over Lovino, would flatten him out. If it weren't for his pale complexion, Lovino would have thought that this was a peasant in disguise.

The count spoke in polite yet warm tones, with a gentle, velvety voice that made it so pleasant to listen to him. However, as soon as Lovino locked eyes with him, the temperature in the room seemed to drop several degrees. Those dark, icy eyes were entirely at odds with the man's kind features and warm voice. Not that the count was glaring at him – the coldness in his eyes seemed to be inherent to them, no matter what his mood was – but coupled with the man's impressive size, that gaze sent shivers down Lovino's spine.

That had to be his imagination playing tricks on him, though. Count Russo obviously thought that Lovino was an excellent suitor to his daughter, judging by the way he kept looking at him as if he were a godsend.

"Thank God we found you, Mr. Vargas," he said, seeming oddly relieved. "I was beginning to lose hope that I would ever find someone to marry my daughter. All the suitors at my county either refused to marry her or were rejected. She is too attached to me, you see. But I talked to her about it and this time she will consent to the marriage."

Lovino frowned. None of that had sounded quite right to him. "Er, excuse me, Lord, but what is that supposed—"

"Oh! Here she comes!" the count burst out, turning away from his guests. "Come here, my dear, don't be shy!" he let out a light giggle that was entirely inappropriate for a man of his age and status.

A blonde girl, as pale as Count Russo – if not paler – joined the three men. Lovino had begun to think that she was ugly, since her father had been so desperate to find her a suitor, but he could see now that that was not the issue with this girl. She wasn't attractive, definitely not the most beautiful woman in the world, but she wasn't ugly. Perhaps "cute" would have been a more fitting term. With her soft, round features that were obviously inherited from her father and her pretty, frilly dress, she looked rather like a doll. Her eyes were chastely directed at the floor.

A blonde? Lovino thought slightly disappointed. He would have preferred a brunette. She didn't appear to be his type, but at least she wasn't ugly as he had feared and she seemed to be a nice, sweet girl.

"Mr. Vargas, meet my daughter, Natalia. Natalia, this is your new fiancé, Mr. Lovino Vargas."

She held out her hand for him to kiss, but still wouldn't meet his gaze. She really was as shy as Father Vinicius had said, a rather endearing trait.

Lovino took her delicate, gloved hand and kissed it light. "I am charmed to meet such a lovely lady," he said, with the affable smile he reserved only for pretty ladies, even if this one probably couldn't see it when her eyes were still fixed on the floor.

Perhaps sensing how intimidated she felt and how awkward things could become at this rate, Count Russo suggested that the couple go out for a stroll around the manor's garden just by themselves, to get better acquainted with each other. Lovino found it a bit odd when the count shouted, "And behave!" as they left. What did he think, that Lovino couldn't wait until they were married to make advances on the poor girl? That he would even touch someone he had just met?

Outside the manor, Lovino began to look for the garden, but much to his bewilderment, there was no such thing in sight, unless one counted that one fruitless tree and a four feet square field of wilting sunflowers. The rest was dull grass and bare earth. It was a little depressing to watch, actually. This wouldn't do at all. As soon as he inherited this property, he would make sure to grow the most gorgeous and lively garden the Russos had ever seen. He would even take care of some of it himself; after all, gardening had always been one of his little hobbies, even if he wasn't excellent at it.

But never mind the sorry state of the garden, for now. He should try to get this timid young lady out of her shell and talk to him, even if just a little. Hopefully, they would have something in common. She still wasn't looking at him, and her hands were clenching into thin, fragile fists. The poor thing, she was so nervous! Lovino cleared his throat to catch her attention.

"You—"

"I hate you!" hissed the girl sharply. "Don't talk to me!" Her voice was quite deeper than he had expected, and she had finally lifted her gaze to look at him directly in the eyes, which had the colour and the consistency of a frozen lake.

"I-I beg your pardon?" Why was she glaring at him with murder in her eyes? And why had she talked to him like that? He hadn't done anything to her!

"You are no better than my previous suitors," she said quietly, darkly. "Actually, you have got to be the worst. I have no desire whatsoever to marry you, let alone 'get acquainted' with you. I hate it that I have been forced into this ridiculous marriage, I hate it that you are standing between me and my father, and above all I hate you! I wish I could just kill you! But... my father told me to behave, so I will have to spare you. For now."

Lovino shuddered. He couldn't tell if Natalia was just being over-dramatic; he wasn't even sure he wanted to know.

"Look, I'm—I'm sorry that you're upset about this arranged marriage, but it's hardly my fault," he tried to reason with her. "This was your father's decision. Actually, this was supposed to help you; if your father hadn't found me, you would never be able to inherit this property." He wanted to ask her if she already had a love interest – after all, what other reason could there be for her to hate him and this arranged marriage before she even got to know him? – but he felt it would be terribly inappropriate to ask such a question.

"That is exactly my problem," said Natalia. "If it weren't for you, there wouldn't be a marriage at all and I could still be living happily with my dear father!"

"Oh, er..." Lovino hesitated as his mind rallied to make sense of what he was hearing. "You don't want his inheritance? You—you want to stay with your father, is that it?"

"Of course! I love my father. I cannot imagine life away from him." Her features softened for a brief moment as she thought of her father, and then she was glaring at him twice as viciously as before. "But he thinks otherwise. He insists that I should get married and live in this—this middle-of-nowhere, far away from him and the rest of my family. If I didn't know better... I would think that he is trying to get rid of me."

At those last words, Lovino found himself empathising with her. After all, weren't they both in the same boat? The only difference between them was that Natalia would get nothing out of this marriage but misery. Unlike Lovino, she couldn't care less about her father's inheritance.

He wanted to comfort her and say he understood how she felt, but before he could even open his mouth, she turned her wrath back on him once again.

"If it weren't for you, I could still convince my father to let me stay with him. But no, you had to show up and ruin everything. Now I'm going to be stuck with a little shit like you for the rest of my life, and it's all your fault! God, I can barely stand to look at your ugly, stupid face. You make me sick."

By now, Lovino was sure that his head was on the brink of combustion. If this were a man he was dealing with, he would have long ago beaten him into an inch of his life for daring to talk to him that way. But this was a lady, the daughter of a count, no less. Never in his life had Lovino been insulted by a lady. Heck, he had never even met a lady whose mouth was so coarse. Yet here he was, taking verbal abuse from a lady when his only crime had been to exist. He was so floored by this surreal experience that he had no idea how to react. He tried to say something, but all he managed to get out were stammered monosyllables.

As if satisfied that Lovino's ego was sufficiently shattered, Natalia recomposed herself, held her chin up, and daintily began to walk away, the very picture of elegance. "However," she said, her voice perfectly controlled and polite, "it is my father's will that I go through with this marriage and form a family of my own, so I cannot disappoint him again. You should be grateful to me."

oOo

"Lovino, your hands are shaking! Is something wrong?" asked Antonio, concern lacing his normally carefree voice.

Lovino set his cup of wine on the counter a little more forcefully than was necessary and crossed his arms, clenching his hands into fists in order to conceal the way they were shaking. Now that he was no longer a novice, he felt no guilt or shame whatsoever about being found at the local inn – not that he had felt much guilt or shame before, either – so the first thing he had done after his meeting with the Russos had been coming here to soothe his nerves. It wasn't working too well so far, though.

Antonio took a seat next to him, and even without meeting his gaze, Lovino knew the concern in his friend's deep green eyes was only increased by his delay in answering his question. Antonio was the kind of person who couldn't take a hint and just leave someone alone when he was convinced they were in some kind of trouble. Not that Lovino wanted him to leave on this particular occasion; he really needed someone to rant at and get this off his chest right now.

"I knew it! I knew there was some kind of horrible catch!" he burst out. "Turns out her father is a fucking giant! His eyes—you should see his eyes! He looks—looks all wrong, y'know! Looks like a nice guy and all, but when you look at his eyes, he looks like one of those demented psychos who kill for the heck of it, fucking bastard, no wonder that crazy bitch loves him." Here he paused to gulp down the rest of his wine. One glance at Antonio's face told him his friend was now quite alarmed. "Oh, yeah, and my fiancée, God, what a crazy bitch! 'Lovely, demure young lady,' my ass! Can you believe her first words to me were, 'I hate you!'? What the hell is wrong with her?"

"L-Lovino, er, how much have you had to drink?"

Lovino threw him a dirty glare. "I'm not drunk, if that's what you're wondering. I wish I was. Were you even listening to me, bastard?"

"Yes, um... I'm sorry the meeting didn't go as well as we'd hoped." Antonio hesitated and then, almost afraid, asked, "Does that mean you're going to call off the marriage?"

"Absolutely not!" shouted Lovino, knocking his fist down on the counter. "We'll get separate rooms! The manor is big enough, it shouldn't be too difficult to avoid her and pretend she doesn't even exist most of the time! Why should I give up on everything I ever dreamt of just because my fiancée is a crazy bitch? No, no, they're not getting rid of me that easily!"

"If you say so..." murmured Antonio, with a sigh. Then, he ordered himself a drink and fell into a forlorn silence. Lovino stared at him for a while. Well, well, today was full of surprises, indeed. A sad Antonio wasn't something one saw everyday.

"How did it go with Bella?" he asked. Perhaps inspired by all this talk of marriage, and because he had also left the monastery – for there was no reason for him to stay if Lovino had left it – Antonio had finally decided to confess his feelings to Isabella while Lovino was meeting his fiancée and his future father-in-law. Judging by Antonio's dispirited demeanour, however, he could only assume things had not gone well for him, either. "Did she reject you?"

Antonio swallowed thickly and his eyes were unusually bright. "I... I couldn't tell her."

"What? You chickened out again? Goddammit, Antonio, you're so fucking stupid!"

"I just couldn't! It wasn't really my fault!" Antonio tried to excuse himself. "We were doing small talk – so I could work up the courage and wait for the right moment, you see – and I told her the news of your marriage. She... she looked so disappointed and sad all of a sudden that I just couldn't say anything." He sighed and looked at Lovino as if he were a kicked puppy. "Do you really think she likes me? I don't think she does... Actually, I'm beginning to think she likes you. What do you think?"

Grumbling a few more expletives under his breath, Lovino produced a few coins from his pocket and slammed them on the counter to pay for the drinks.

"I refuse to continue this ridiculous conversation," he said as he stood up and staggered a little on his way to the door. Antonio was immediately at his side, ready to support him should he fall over. "God, won't this shitty, absurd day never end?"

"You should go to bed and sleep it off. Things will look much better tomorrow."

"Shut the fuck up. I'm so goddamn tired of your undying optimism. And I'm not drunk, so stop looking at me as if I'm going to collapse any moment, dammit."

Antonio just laughed in his usual, airy way. Damn him. Why was he so happy all the time, even after he failed spectacularly in his love life? Damn him and his idiocy.

"Hey, Lovino, I was wondering... Now that I'm leaving the monastery, I'll need to make money to support myself. D'you think you could get me a job at your manor once you inherit it?"

Lovino had an answer ready right away, but pretended to think about it. "Sure, why not?" he gave Antonio an indulgent smile. "Can't be helped, anyway. It's not like I could just let you starve to death. You wouldn't last a week without my help."

Antonio laughed again in good humour. "Thanks!"

"Stupid happy idiot..." Lovino muttered. "By the way, you're going to be my best man. Get yourself some nice clothes and try not to look too retarded during the ceremony."

"It would be my honour!"