A/N: I haven't really finished this arc, but since it's taking too long, I'll post the chapters as I write them, like I usually do. Also, thank you all for the reviews and faves!
– CHAPTER 10 –
The Party
March 17.
Lovino hated this day. It never failed to put him in a foul mood. Not that his mood wasn't always foul, but this day made it worse than usual.
As far as the world was concerned, it was Feliciano's birthday. Everyone would congratulate him in masses; sometimes, it was necessary for them to form queues. They would hug him, shower him with goodwill wishes and presents. There would be a big party and he would be the centre of all the attention.
No one ever remembered that, being twins, Lovino and Feliciano had the same birthday. It seemed like such an obvious thing, but people still failed to get it into their thick heads. If they happened to remember that small detail, or were reminded of it by one of the twins, they might offer Lovino an awkward, half-hearted, "Happy birthday to you, too, I guess," before turning their backs and going back to Feliciano.
Even when the two brothers had been separated, people would still either forget his birthday or briefly wish him a happy one before wondering about how Feliciano was doing. Lovino had almost got used to it after going through that every single year of his life, but now that the twins would be celebrating their birthday together for the first time in years, Lovino was reminded of just how deeply he hated this day.
True to tradition, Feliciano had already received goodwill wishes from all his servants and even some of his friends, but no one had approached Lovino yet. They knew they were twins; he had been living in this house for a while now and the fact that he and Feliciano were twins had been mentioned several times, because everyone was shocked by how identical they looked and Feliciano kept showing him off as if he were some sort of prize. Even so, no one had made the connection. Or maybe they were giving him the cold shoulder. That wouldn't be a surprise, either.
Finally, he had grown sick of it and retired to his room, away from the servants who were bustling about making the preparations for the party, away from his annoying brother who just wouldn't stop humming "happy birthday to me" as he supervised and helped the servants.
He wasn't sulking. He just wanted to be alone before all the idiocy got to him.
The door slammed open behind him and he glowered, his gaze staring determinedly at the window. Who was the idiot who dared barge into his room and interrupt his sul—contemplation?
"Lovino! I've been looking for you!" said Feliciano in a grating singsong. "I didn't see you all day! Have you been sulking here all this time?"
"Contemplating. I've been contemplating. Idiot," muttered Lovino.
He heard a light thud behind him and the door being slammed shut. The next moment, Feliciano was standing before him with a radiant grin.
"What are you sul—er—contemplating about?"
"None of your fucking business!"
"I'm your brother! You can tell me! Don't worry, I won't tell anyone."
"No! Get the fuck out and don't interrupt me again!"
Feliciano stayed right where he was, that stupid grin still there on his face as he stared down at his brother.
"Hey, Lovino, are you jealous of me?" he burst out, nearly causing his twin to have a heart attack.
"What? What? Where the hell did that come from?" he spluttered. Since when was his brother the least bit perceptive?
"I asked Ludwig why you're always so angry and mean to me, especially when he and I are hanging out, and he said maybe it's because you're jealous of me," Feliciano explained, his tone still inappropriately cheerful given the subject. "So, is it true? Are you jealous of me?"
"Like hell I'm jealous of you! Who would be jealous of a goofy, brainless moron like you? And that foreign bastard should mind his own fucking business, God damn him! Why the hell do you even listen to that asshole, anyway?"
Feliciano was unfazed by the vehemence of this response.
"Aww, you shouldn't be jealous of me just because I'm a little better-looking and have had more girlfriends! After all, you used to live at a monastery! Besides, I'm sure that if you stopped scowling and sneering at people, you'd look about as handsome as me, and if you stopped cursing like a sailor all the time, people wouldn't be so scared to approach you!"
"Shut the hell up! You have no fucking idea what you're talking about! You just don't get it! Damn it!"
Feliciano bit his lip as if to keep himself from bursting into laughter. Lovino knew from experience in dealing with Antonio that his face must look quite a bit like a tomato right now. He could feel it burning up, as it always happened when he was angry and embarrassed at the same time. What really pained him was that no one could ever take him seriously when he looked like this. Even Feliciano felt like laughing at him, completely oblivious to how very upset his words had made him. In contrast, Lovino rather felt like crying.
Fortunately, Feliciano was able to control himself. His smile seemed to become a little muted, almost if he felt ashamed. He gingerly sat next to Lovino on the bed, his eyes on his clasped hands.
"Can I tell you a little secret about myself?" he asked, his voice strangely quiet. Intrigued, Lovino looked at him and grunted in affirmation. Feliciano blushed. "The truth is that I've always felt a little jealous of you."
Lovino could only stare at him for a moment. Of all things he might have expected to hear from any person in the world, let alone Feliciano, this had never been one of them. It just didn't make any sense.
"You? You are jealous of me?" Lovino almost laughed at the absurdity of it. "You've got to be kidding me! What the fuck is there to be jealous about?"
"More than you think," said Feliciano enigmatically, with a shrug. "But mostly, I was jealous that you got to live surrounded by those nice nuns and all those children while I had to stay with Grandpa. Don't get me wrong; I loved Grandpa from the bottom of my heart. But he was my only companion. I couldn't play with any other children. I had to stay with him all the time in case he needed my help, and because he wanted to teach me new painting techniques and stuff. It was really lonely. And then, I was also the one who had to watch as he withered and died right before my eyes. You're so lucky you were spared that."
He... had never thought of it that way. Lovino had never really stopped to think about what Feliciano's life with Grandpa on his last days must have been like. He had only cared about the fact that his brother had been with Grandpa, his family, his father figure, while Lovino had been dumped in an orphanage.
However, this revelation didn't make him feel any better. If anything, it only fed his resentment over his grandfather's decision to abandon him. He didn't care that Grandpa might have had the best of intentions, or that watching him die slowly and painfully would have been unbearable. If he had kept Lovino with him, Lovino would have at least tried to help. He would have kept Feliciano company, even if it were in his own ungracious, ill-humoured way. Who knew, the two brothers might have even bonded over it.
But no, Grandpa had preferred to leave him rather than give him a chance. He had thought of it as doing Lovino a favour. What a big favour, indeed, to make him feel abandoned and worthless. And now Feliciano was telling him he was supposed to be thankful for that?
He was considering punching his brother for the suggestion, but Feliciano suddenly cheered up and said, "That reminds me, I have something for you!" He got up and ran around the bed to pick up something he had left leaning against it on the other side, then hurried back to stand before Lovino once more and hand him a portrait. "This is one of my presents for you. Well, actually, it's Grandpa's present. Happy birthday!"
It was a rather large portrait of their family. Their whole family, because, in addition to Grandpa and the twins, there was a couple that Lovino recognised only from other portraits that had been all around his old home. His parents. They were angelic figures on the background, looking almost inconspicuous if not for their bright white clothes and the slightly luminous auras surrounding their bodies. Grandpa, the central character, was drawn in the same style, and his features looked at least twenty years younger than Lovino remembered. At each side of him were the twins, Feliciano with a heavenly, serene smile that mirrored his grandfather's and Lovino with an unsmiling, yet relaxed expression. They were wearing dark, very elegant clothes, typical of nobility.
"That was Grandpa's last portrait of our family. Though, it was really a collaboration between us, because I did most of the work," Feliciano explained. "Basically, he sketched it and I did the rest. His hands weren't steady enough for him to paint very well, so he asked me to finish it for him."
That was abysmally obvious to anyone who was familiar with Grandpa and Feliciano's style. This wasn't anything like an ordinary family portrait, in which the members of the family just sat down or stood around a sitting member, all wearing sober clothes and expressions, and stared at the painter, who drew exactly what he saw before him. Grandpa and Feliciano had never liked mundane paintings like that. Their paintings, even their portraits, had to be full of flare, colours, and over-dramatic poses, maybe with a few cherubs here and there.
This portrait was no exception. Not that it wasn't beautiful. It was actually so magnificent that anyone else might have doubted it had been painted by an idiot such as Feliciano. Lovino might not have been good at painting, but he had a good eye for mistakes, and yet he found none in this. Every single detail of this portrait was flawless.
No, it was better than just flawless. It was perfect.
"That's our parents watching over us from Heaven," Feliciano went on. "Grandpa was drawn the same way because he's also in Heaven. He's next to us because he's visiting; he promised me he would come to visit us if he could, you see. That's also why he looks younger. Grandpa said I had to make him look younger, because everyone looks young in Heaven." He giggled. "I think he was just self-conscious about his old age, though!"
Lovino said nothing, just continued to stare at the painting. He supposed he should have been enchanted by the sheer beauty of it, no matter how unconventional a portrait it was. It was technically perfect, but it failed to touch him. He had never known his parents; they were like strangers to him. The painting had been done by Grandpa and Feliciano, without any participation from Lovino whatsoever. As it had always been. And gazing at the end product of Feliciano's talent, it only made him feel inadequate yet again. All in all, rather than provoke admiration, all this portrait did was leave a bitter taste in his mouth.
"By the way," said Feliciano as Lovino carefully put the painting away in grim silence, "can you do me a little favour?"
"Favour? What kind of favour?" Lovino asked, narrowing his eyes in suspicion.
"Can you sing at our party, for the ball? Just a little?"
"What the fuck? Why couldn't you just hire a singer, dammit?"
"Aw, but you're a phenomenal singer! Please, you must sing at the party tonight! Just one song! It—it's part of my present for you, see?"
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
"It's a surprise!" Feliciano's grin was back on full force, shining with the brightness of a thousand suns and attaining the same blinding effect on Lovino's eyes. "It's a surprise I prepared for you, as your birthday present. So, please, don't ask any questions and sing at least one song at the ball, okay?"
Lovino wasn't entirely sure he liked the idea of more surprises, especially coming from his brother, yet he couldn't help feeling curious. He just couldn't even begin to imagine what it might be that Feliciano had in store for him.
"Fine. Whatever. I'll sing at your damn party if it's that important to you," he huffed and tried to ignore it when Feliciano cried out in joy and attempted to squeeze the life out of him yet again.
"Thanks! You won't regret it, I promise!" Feliciano said and pulled away, though his hands remained on Lovino's shoulders. "By the way, since this is going to be our party, wouldn't you like to help us with the preparations?"
"Why should I? That's what servants are for, stupid."
"But it's fun! Besides, if you stay here in your room all day, you'll die from boredom and everyone is going to forget about you! You don't want that to happen, do you? Come on, I need someone with good taste to help me pick the right colours and make sure the food is good! Oh, and I made most of the food myself."
"Well, damn, if you insist," said Lovino ungraciously, although deep down he felt a little flattered. He also perked up at the prospect of tasting good food, especially if it had been made by Feliciano. After all, his brother wasn't only a talented artist, but also an excellent cook, and Lovino loved food too much to even let his jealousy get in the way and prevent him from fully enjoying his brother's recipes.
oOo
He did his best to help out with the preparations. He almost gave up a few times when his clumsiness for manual work resurfaced and he ruined some of the decoration, earning a few inconspicuous, dirty glares from the servants. However, his brother laughed off these little accidents and insisted that it was no problem, that there were still many other things he could help with, or that he had never liked those fancy vases anyway.
His favourite part was tasting Feliciano's recipes, which were delicious beyond his expectations, if that was even possible. He stuffed himself with them so much that Feliciano actually had to snatch the remaining food away and send it off lest nothing more was left for the guests. Lovino also tried his hand at a few recipes of his own, which in his opinion weren't as good as Feliciano's, but his brother still seemed to love them.
It was actually... rather fun. For once, Lovino was in a pretty good mood, especially considering it was his birthday.
Of course, his good moods never lasted long. Soon it was time for the party and the guests began to arrive. There were so many of them, as if the whole city had come to the party. That was when his mood began to sour again. Lovino hated crowds. So many unfamiliar faces, most of them nobles, congratulating and doting on Feliciano and then turning judgemental looks onto everybody else, including Lovino. People kept approaching him under the impression he was Feliciano and he had to explain time and time again, "I'm not Feliciano, I'm his brother, are you fucking blind?" and he knew he wasn't making any friends with this attitude, but it was really too much for him to handle.
At least there were a few familiar faces around. Antonio was here, looking as happy as if it were his own birthday and mingling easily with all these strangers. Bella, as well, had come all the way from Monterosso to attend the party. Although Feliciano had given her a very nice dress, appropriate for the occasion, she obviously felt very out of place among all these upper-class people. Ludwig was present, too, of course, and he looked about as uncomfortable as Lovino. It lifted his mood just a little bit to see him look so miserable.
For a while, the four of them huddled together, hoping to find solace and safety in each other's uneasiness or – in Antonio's case – trying to liven the others up. It didn't work very well. Lovino and Ludwig were avoiding each other's gazes and were both too taciturn to say anything, leaving only Bella to respond to Antonio's babbling about what a great party this was. Eventually, even that sorry excuse for a conversation died down and Antonio looked like he wanted to say something to Bella in particular, but didn't have the courage to do it, and Lovino didn't feel ready to leave them alone quite yet. Meanwhile, Bella also looked like she wanted to drag Lovino away to a quieter place.
Suddenly, Ludwig excused himself and hurried away from the group. Lovino hadn't thought the silence that followed his departure could have got any more awkward, but he was proved wrong once again. Antonio continued to watch Bella. Bella continued to watch Lovino. Lovino looked wistfully at the wine on the table several feet away. It was too early to get wasted, but if it made this party any more bearable...
"Hey, hey, guys! I want to introduce a friend of mine to you!" Feliciano's voice cut through the small bubble of silence that surrounded the trio.
Lovino turned to look at him, feeling almost grateful for his arrival. He was a bit put off, though, when he saw that Feliciano was accompanied by Ludwig and one of the most bizarre-looking people he had ever seen. It was a man who looked a bit like Ludwig, only paler, much paler, his hair of such a fair shade that he might have been mistaken for an old man if not for his youthful features. When he was close enough, Lovino took one look at his eyes and crossed himself with a shudder. Dear God, his eyes were red. That just wasn't natural! He couldn't be human!
Yet, Feliciano just stood next to him as if it were the most normal thing in the world, grinning happily at his friends. "This is Gilbert. Gilbert Bel—um... Bail-Bailistim—no, wait—er..."
"Beilschmidt," said Gilbert, with an amused smirk, his voice raspy and as creepy as his face.
"Right!" said Feliciano, nodding. "He's Ludwig's older brother!"
"Adopted brother," Ludwig emended in clipped tones. He didn't seem terribly proud of being related to this Gilbert character. Lovino couldn't really blame him.
"Shit, that's all I need. Another foreign bastard from the north," he grumbled. "And he looks like a freak, at that."
"Now, now, that's not very nice, Lovino!" Feliciano chided him, even though Gilbert himself didn't look offended at all. In fact, as he stared back at Lovino, his smirk grew even more amused.
"Holy shit, you look just like Feliciano!" he burst out, uttering those words that Lovino had grown to hate so much. To add insult to injury, Gilbert patted him on the head as if he were a dog and gave a weird laugh. "You look like a grumpy version of him! That's so cute!" he cackled again, loud and mocking.
"Fuck you! Go back to the circus you came from and die, you asshole!" Lovino turned his glare on Antonio. "What are you laughing at, jerkass?"
Antonio tried to muffle his laughter behind his hand, but it didn't make much difference at all. His shoulders were shaking with mirth and his face was bright red.
"N-nothing!" he choked out, wiping his eyes and he pulled himself together, even though his face was still split into a wide grin. Next to him, Bella was making some funny faces in an effort to hold back her own laughter. Lovino glared at them both, feeling his own face burning up with embarrassment and indignation, and began to leave, only to be stopped by Feliciano.
"Wait, Lovino, it's time for you to sing!" he said urgently. "Remember your promise!"
"I don't remember promising anything to you!"
"Lovinooooo!" Feliciano whined, and the sound grated so much on his nerves that he instinctively found himself complying just to spare himself from that horrible sound.
"All right, fine, I'll sing! Just leave me the hell alone, goddammit."
Still seething a little, Lovino was actually glad for this excuse to leave the company of those foreign bastards and his amused friends. On the other hand, he had to wonder what Feliciano was up to. Coming from him, it couldn't be anything good. Lovino hadn't even had time to rehearse – in fact, he had no idea what he was supposed to sing in the first place – so it would be his brother's fault if this turned into a disaster and ruined the party. Actually, that would serve him right.
After a brief talk with the musicians, Lovino took his place before the crowd as the first instrumental notes were played and the people paired up and positioned themselves to start dancing. Lovino fidgeted a little nervously as the former irritation gave way to shyness. He knew now what he was supposed to sing, but the thought of singing before all these people made him nervous. He had had no trouble singing in the choir, but that was different. This audience was larger, a lot colder, and more judgemental, and he wasn't familiar with them at all.
He took a deep, calming breath. No, he couldn't let himself get nervous. If he got nervous, he would definitely mess up this performance and be ridiculed by everyone. He needed to calm down and concentrate. He closed his eyes. That way, he wouldn't have to see them – he could even try to pretend he was all alone – and it also made it easier to focus on the music and wait for his cue. Gradually, the murmurs of the crowd faded into the background and Lovino sang without restraint or self-consciousness.
When the song was over and he opened his eyes again, he felt as though he had just woken up from a wonderful dream, and reality crashed down on him when he saw there were quite a few faces turned his way, staring at him. He felt as though his entire head were on fire and suddenly wished he could crawl into a hole and stay there for the remainder of the night. He spied a waiter serving drinks around and made a beeline for him, quickly retreating from the spotlight. Maybe, if he were lucky and got drunk enough, he would lose all memories from this stupid party by tomorrow morning.
He was in the process of knocking back a glass of champagne when someone slapped him on the back and almost caused him to spit the drink out in a most undignified way.
"Lovino, that was amazing! You're a really great singer!" said Antonio, apparently oblivious to the fact that the person he was praising was currently too busy having a coughing fit. Lovino tried to curse at him, but all his burning throat allowed out was a soft wheeze, and even his glare failed him because his eyes had watered up.
"He's right! You have such a beautiful voice," said Bella, who, being a lot more sensible and tactful than Antonio, did him the courtesy of approaching from the side rather than from behind.
With a last cough, Lovino wiped his streaming eyes to give Antonio a proper glare, though it had softened a little at Bella's words. His face was still burning up, too. "You're not just saying that to make me feel better, are you?" he muttered, averting his gaze. After all, they were his friends and were both too soft; their opinion on him was bound to be biased.
Just as they were assuring him of their sincerity, Feliciano joined the group, once again accompanied by a stranger. This one wasn't as outlandish in physical appearance, but in the way he dressed and carried himself. His clothes were without a doubt the fanciest and flashiest in this entire party, and that was saying something. He didn't look as uptight as the other nobles, although his nose was stuck snobbishly in the air. The oddest thing about the man, however, was the way he kept leering at everyone around him, but especially at Lovino. It was the kind of sinful, malicious leer that the Serpent must have been wearing when it offered Eve the apple. All in all, this man looked extremely unpleasant and suspicious, even more so than Ludwig or Gilbert, and Lovino couldn't for the life of him understand how Feliciano could even bring himself to stand that close to him.
In a way, it was amazing; Lovino had just looked at the man, and he already hated him.
"Lovino, this is Francis Bonnefoy, another friend of mine," said Feliciano, oblivious to the disapproving glare that his brother was sending his way. Honestly, Feliciano had the worst taste in friends. "He runs the opera house in Terraverde, and he's also an art merchant; he's bought several of my paintings."
"Good for you," grunted Lovino, trying to look as uninterested and unfriendly as possible. Neither man seemed affected by it, though. Bonnefoy continued to leer at him, and Feliciano continued to grin like the idiot he was.
"Ah, Mr. Vargas," said Bonnefoy in such an airy tone that Lovino could only assume he had to be at least a little tipsy. "That was absolutely fantastic! Magnifique, as we say back home! I can see that talent runs in the family. I should never have doubted that any descendant of Lord Romeo Vargas was destined to be grand."
"Y-you knew my grandfather?" Lovino asked, not sure how to feel about the flattery. He wasn't used to being praised in such a way; usually, in the rare occasions when someone did praise him, it was either to make him feel better, or because they wanted him to do them a favour or some sort of unpleasant task.
"Certainly! I was still a young boy when I met him, though, and we didn't see each other very often," replied Bonnefoy. "My father would often buy his artworks whenever Lord Vargas visited Terraverde. So, in reality, I am more familiar with his art than with the artist himself. Still, I am so very glad to see that he passed his talent on to his grandsons!"
"You mean grandson," said Lovino, half-peeved and half-confused. "I don't paint."
"Well, that is a shame," said Bonnefoy, without missing a beat. "But I suppose some variety is also nice. You may not be a painter like your brother, but you more than make up for it by being a fantastic singer!"
"Oh..." Lovino knew his face must have reddened quite a bit just now. He was so unused to being praised that he didn't even know how to respond to it. What was he supposed to say? Thank you? Or, oh, that was nothing? What the hell do you want from me?
Fortunately, Bonnefoy didn't seem to be expecting a response at all.
"I'll go straight to the point, Mr. Vargas," he said, and it was a little odd how Feliciano's grin was suddenly wider and he started to bounce a little. Either ignorant or oblivious to it, Bonnefoy went on, "As you know, I run the opera house in this town. I was wondering if you would be interested in working for me? With that voice, you would be perfect for the leading male role."
"Yes!" Feliciano burst out in joy and threw his arms around Lovino. Bella, standing a few feet behind him also gasped and squealed in delight.
"Wait, wait, what?" Lovino, himself, had no idea what was going on. Bonnefoy had lost him at "working" and the rest had yet to register. All he knew now was that his brother was happily smothering him and Bella and Antonio were shouting congratulations and saying how amazing that was. Now more annoyed than confused, he grabbed his brother by the arms and shoved him off. "What the hell are you all talking about?"
"Francis wants you to have the leading role in his opera!" said Feliciano. "Isn't that wonderful?"
Lovino just started at him, then at Bonnefoy's disgustingly smug face.
"That has to be a joke. Right?"
"What makes you think so, Mr. Vargas?"
Everything, Lovino wanted to say. The whole idea was just ridiculous and impossible. But he just couldn't put into words all the things that were wrong with it. "Well, for one thing, aren't the leading male roles usually given to castrati?" At least that was how it was, as far as he knew, and it only made him convinced that he was being mocked.
However, Bonnefoy wrinkled his nose snobbishly and made a noise of disgust.
"Castrati... I don't care much for them. See, this is the problem with this land. You people desperately need something innovative, something bold! You need to have your eyes opened to the wonders of tenors in leading roles!" the volume of his voice had risen with every word until he was so loud and passionate that quite a few eyes had turned to look his way oddly. "Just think about it! Love is a form of art, just as art is a form of love! You can't have an opera, a form of art, a form of love, with a castrato in the leading role! It just doesn't work! We need the powerful yet graceful, manly yet gentle voice of a tenor! We need your voice, Mr. Vargas!"
Dumbfounded silence followed for a few seconds after the end of Bonnefoy's bizarre, overenthusiastic speech, broken only by his heavy pants. A few guests who had been staring discreetly moved away. Somewhere behind him, Lovino heard a single pair of hands applauding softly, which only added to the awkwardness of the moment, and Lovino hoped to dear God that it wasn't Bella.
"Are you fucking insane?" he burst out at length. "I—that's just—I can't—That has to be one of the stupidest things I have ever heard in my life! And having lived with Antonio for most of my life, you can bet I've heard a lot of very stupid things!"
"Why are you saying that, Lovino?" asked Feliciano gently. His smile was still in place, but he sounded quite puzzled. "I think it's a great idea! That's why I arranged for you to sing at the party; so that Francis would see how talented you are and ask you to work with him. It's a great honour, Lovino! I thought it'd be the perfect birthday present for you!"
"You!" Lovino turned his full death glare onto his brother, who yelped and drew back, shaking a little. "So this is your fault! You arranged this! This—this is the surprise you were talking about, isn't it?"
Despite his fear, Feliciano still smiled and nodded. "Yes, yes, it's my surprise birthday present for you!"
"God damn you and your fucking surprises, Feliciano!"
"What's wrong, Lovino? I thought you liked singing..."
"Feliciano, I can't sing opera!"
"But you just sang—"
"That's completely different!" Lovino was gesticulating wildly now. "Opera is completely different from that! It's harder, it needs acting, there'd be a lot more people watching, and—"
"Ah, Mr. Vargas, do you have stage fright?" Bonnefoy interrupted him with a gentle chuckle. "Don't worry about it. You'll get used to it after the first couple of times. And we would, of course, help you practise. In any case, you don't really need to be a formidable actor in opera; you just need to be a formidable singer. You have the raw talent, so all we need to do is polish you up and voilà."
Under other circumstances, Lovino might have been flattered. It wasn't every day he got praised like that. However, it had come too suddenly – Lovino had recently realised that he hated surprises – and the man who was praising him was extremely suspicious and creepy, with all his leering and smirking and strange accent. Lovino didn't trust him one bit. Just looking at his face made him inwardly shudder and want to run in the opposite direction. He also tried to picture himself singing at the opera, under those hundreds of snobbish, judging gazes deciding that this Bonnefoy person was insane to hire him and that it should have been Feliciano instead. Every day would be just like this party. Every single day of his life.
"Forget it! I won't do it!" he snapped and tried to back away, but Feliciano grabbed his arm to protest.
"But—"
"No! Don't even try to make me change my mind!" Lovino said as he shook his brother off. He then caught the look on Bonnefoy's face and actually shuddered; the leer had intensified a hundred times.
"Playing hard to get, are you, Mr. Vargas? That is quite all right. I'll have you yet. Just wait and see."
"G-get the fuck away from me, you creep!" Lovino half-yelled and half-squeaked and quickly put as much distance between them as was dignified in a noble party.
"Don't worry. He'll come around, eventually," he vaguely heard Feliciano happily reassure Bonnefoy.
Curse Feliciano and his horrible taste in friends.
oOo
Shortly after Lovino found a spot as far away from Bonnefoy as possible, Antonio and Bella joined him again. They looked perplexed and like they were about to say something, most likely to ask him why he had refused Bonnefoy's offer and tell him that he still had time to go back and accept it. However, one pointed, warning glare from the still fuming Lovino was enough to make them think again and shut their mouths. After a long moment of awkward silence, his two friends started to talk about the weather of all things. It was a pathetic excuse for a conversation, but it was good enough to get Lovino's mind out of his unpleasant exchange with Bonnefoy.
Now the next music was about to begin and Antonio was once again giving Bella looks. This time, he actually managed to get over his anxiety or whatever it was that had been stopping him before and asked her to dance with him. Bella blushed and accepted, though not without a longing glance at Lovino first.
Lovino watched in mild amusement as the both of them wobbled and stepped on each other's feet, standing out like sore thumbs among the graceful couples of nobles around them. They were both great dancers in general, but they had probably never got the chance to practise this particular type of dance. Still, in their own clumsy way, they looked rather nice together, and they were obviously having fun. That was what mattered, he supposed.
Lovino looked away from the pair and idly watched his surroundings, until his gaze fell on a lone lady nursing a glass of wine. She was very, very pretty, with long, light brown hair that was slightly wavy near the end. Her skin was fair, but she wasn't sickly pale like so many noble ladies he had seen at this party. Her delicate features were only marred by the slight frown; she looked a little upset for some reason. Watching more closely, Lovino could see that there was a considerable gap between her and everyone around her, as if they were all deliberately shunning her.
He nudged Feliciano, who had already got away from Bonnefoy and was now talking to a reticent Ludwig, and asked him who that lady was.
"Oh, that's Elisabetta Magherini," he said, with a smile. "She's an old friend of mine. She's like a big sister to me."
"Why is she all alone? Look, it's like everyone is avoiding her."
"Oh, yeah..." Feliciano gave her a sad look. "She's not very popular. And she's probably in a bad mood. I saw her talking to Gilbert just now, and that always leaves her in a bad mood."
Lovino nodded, mirroring his brother's expression as his heart swelled with sympathy for the girl. He could see how talking to that freak would upset anyone. He also understood all too well what it felt like to be unpopular and shunned by everyone, and that such a thing had to happen to such a pretty lady was just unfathomable.
While Feliciano went back to his one-sided conversation with Ludwig, Lovino approached Elisabetta, determined to cheer her up. A lovely girl like her did not deserve to stand and drink all by herself while the other ladies got to dance.
"Good evening, my lady," he greeted her, with a gentle smile. She looked surprised to be addressed, but her face lit up as soon as she met his gaze, her face flushed. For a moment, Lovino was flattered that the mere sight of him had apparently been enough to cheer her up that much already. However, his elation only lasted as long as it took for her to open her mouth.
"Oh, Feliciano! Hello," she said.
Lovino's smile twitched, but remained plastered on his face, and he even succeeded in keeping his tone warmly polite.
"Sorry, but I'm not Feliciano. I'm his brother. Lovino Vargas."
"Oh..."
Lovino felt a little disheartened when her face fell with disappointment. She took another sip of wine and mumbled something about Feliciano having a brother, or something along those lines. Lovino cleared his throat.
"My lady, would you give me the honour of this dance?"
"No. Go away," she muttered, her expression sour once again.
Lovino was taken aback by the blunt refusal – no girl had ever, ever refused to dance with him – but then he took notice of the way she seemed to be slightly off balance and how her face was still flushed. Was she embarrassed? Intoxicated? Or maybe feverish?
He put a solicitous hand on her shoulder and began to ask if she was all right, but was cut off mid-sentence when the wine that had been in her glass suddenly met his face.
"Hands off, you pig! I said no!" she growled. When Lovino managed to open his eyes, he found her angry face only a few inches from his. "Fuck off," she hissed slowly before pulling away with a huff and walked away, almost tripping over the shards of Lovino's dignity.
He stood still for a moment, shaking just slightly as he was struck by a very unpleasant sense of déjà vu. Intoxicated it is, then, he thought, fishing for his handkerchief to both wipe the dripping wine off his face and to hide it a little from view, lest he died of embarrassment. That would teach him to approach angry females in the future, he supposed. Or maybe he was losing his touch. First Natalia, now this...
"Lovino, Lovino, are you okay?" he heard his twin's whiny voice ask, then felt his warm hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry, I should have warned you against getting close to Elisabetta when she's in a bad mood. But please, don't hold it against her! She's a really nice girl, really! I mean, usually..."
Lovino just sighed, not even bothering to tell his brother to shut up. Summoning the energy for that was just too much trouble. All he could do was wonder if this day could get any worse.
"Stay here. I'm going to clean myself up and change clothes," he told Feliciano. Or hopefully drown in the basin, he mentally added as he left the party and his fretting brother behind.
In a way, he was almost glad for the incident, because now he had a good excuse to get away from that godforsaken party, all that noise and crowd, and have a moment of peace to himself.
Or so he thought, until he rounded the corner and felt one hand press against his mouth while an arm crept around his midsection and dragged him away before he could even understand what was going on. Without being able to catch a glimpse of his assailant, he struggled blindly against their hold, his screams muffled by the hand on his mouth.
Eventually, he managed to bite the hand and elbow the guy in the stomach, causing the man to release him with a pained grunt. Lovino frantically took in his surroundings. He had been brought to one of the dining rooms in the manor. It was dark, save for the moonlight that came from the large window and allowed him to see that he was surrounded by several dark, intimidating men. The one that attracted his attention, however, was the one seated at the other end of the dining table, his back to the window so that his face was cast in shadows. Smoke curled up in the air above him.
"Mr. Gianturco..." Lovino choked out. Then, despite his fear of the man, he snapped, "What the fuck? You can't just break into my house and kidnap me like that!"
Il Sadico clucked his tongue. "Such inelegant words you use, Mr. Vargas! First of all, we did not 'break in'; we were formally invited by your brother. And we most certainly did not kidnap you. You are still in your home, after all. I merely wanted to have a word with you in private."
The way Il Sadico said those words, coupled with the overpowering smell of wine, made Lovino feel sick to his stomach, although he did his best to hide it. He crossed his arms and forced himself to meet Il Sadico's shadowed eyes.
"Well, what do you want, then?" he asked, and mentally cursed when his voice came out thick with tense fear.
Fear that increased tenfold when a slow, crooked smile splayed on the other man's dark face.
"You know, Mr. Vargas, I could almost admire the way you have been avoiding us since the last time we met. You are good, I'll give you that. Very, very good," as he said that, his gaze looked almost greedy, as if Lovino were some kind of rare prize he coveted. However, when he paused in his speech for a second, his ugly smile suddenly fell and his eyes were icy and unforgiving. Lovino couldn't decide which look was more frightening. "But I grow weary of this game, Mr. Vargas, so I will go straight to the point. You owe us money."
The goon who had dragged him here cracked his knuckles and stood so close behind Lovino that he could feel his intimidating presence. His throat tightened.
"O-okay, look, there's no need to resort to violence!" he said, his voice now shaking openly. "We can settle this like reasonable adults! I-I can pay you now! Right now, in fact! J-just—just let me go and get the money..." his voice trailed off weakly when Il Sadico's frown only became deeper.
"I'm afraid that is quite impossible now, Mr. Vargas," the man murmured. "Your debt to us has increased dramatically."
"What the hell do you mean?" Lovino burst out, his voice a little higher than usual. "I only hired you to rescue my brother and Antonio and kill Natalia! Half the payment before the job was done and the other half later, that was our agreement! You can't just raise my debt because you feel like it!"
"As it so happens," said Il Sadico, almost bored, "Count Russo was not pleased with his youngest daughter's assassination. He found out who shot her and had him killed. But that wasn't enough for him; he came to destroy my entire family and everyone associated with us. The Russo family and the Gianturco family are at war now... and I hold you responsible, Mr. Vargas."
"What? You can't possibly—" Lovino was cut off when the goon behind him gripped his shoulder in warning.
"We have suffered many losses," continued Il Sadico as if there had never been an interruption. "I want compensations for all those men and all the money that I lost in this war, which only began because of you, Mr. Vargas. I am sure you understand."
Lovino didn't, but when the oaf next to him squeezed his shoulder a tad more tightly, and one of the men surrounding them deliberately reached inside his coat as if about to pull a gun, and Il Sadico gave him that dangerous, piercing glare, Lovino had no other option but to swallow his objections.
"H-how—How much do I owe you, then?" he asked, his voice almost inaudible even in the sepulchral silence that had fallen onto this room.
Il Sadico told him.
Lovino almost fainted. It was too much. He had never even heard such a great amount of money be uttered before in his life. Was it even possible for a man to be that rich? Not that it mattered much, because he knew he didn't have that much money, and he probably would never have, even if he worked his entire life. And it just wasn't fair, because it wasn't his fault that Count Russo had started a war against the Gianturcos. He had never even imagined something like that would happen.
"I would also be very careful if I were you, Mr. Vargas," added Il Sadico. "I am not the only one Count Russo is after. He is fully aware of what you did to his daughter and he is advancing quickly."
Digesting such horrible news would have been hard enough, and this smell of wine just seemed to be getting stronger, so he could barely think straight. He felt dizzy and would probably have staggered a little if not for the hand on his shoulder that kept him steady – it was good for something, after all. He briefly considered sitting down, but his body was reluctant to move.
What was he going to do? He couldn't hire Il Sadico or anyone else to protect him, but he would die for sure if he were left on his own. Would he have to run away again? How far would he have to go to be safe?
"Fortunately, I have a proposition that should help both of us," said Il Sadico, that lazy smile spreading on his face once again. "Why don't you work for me, Mr. Vargas? That way, you would be able to pay your debt to me little by little. In exchange, I would offer you protection. And I assure you that I would do everything in my power to keep you safe." His tone was almost kind, almost paternal. The smirk that followed, however, effectively broke that illusion. "After all, you are no use to me dead."
Lovino ran his hand over his now sweaty forehead. He knew quite well what Il Sadico was proposing. It wasn't much different from slavery. Then again, what choice did he have? If he tried to run away, he would be hunted by two families – one for revenge, the other for money. If he accepted to work for Il Sadico, at least he would be protected from the Russos.
Yet, why did it feel as though he were resigning to his death sentence?
"A-all right," he choked out, unable to raise his gaze from the floor. "I... I accept your proposal."
"I knew you were smarter than your brother, Mr. Vargas."
Lovino shuddered in revulsion. He, of course, agreed that he was smarter than his brother – who wasn't? – but he didn't like it when anyone but himself talked about Feliciano like that. However, he couldn't very well voice his opinion to such a dangerous man, especially when that man had just become his new boss.
He glared at Il Sadico, who had stood up and was walking in his direction, his eyes wide with a glint of greedy triumph. Indeed, Il Sadico had got exactly what he wanted, had he not? It suddenly dawned on Lovino why accepting his proposal had felt like a death sentence. It just might be worse than a death sentence; he had just sold his soul to the devil.
Il Sadico stood right before him, grinning like the cat that got the canary. "Welcome to the family, Mr. Vargas," he said, with a pat that was more like a slap on Lovino's face. Lovino said nothing and resisted the sudden urge to punch the smug man. He just wanted him to leave now. With a low snigger, Il Sadico turned to leave, pausing by the door and turning back to him to add, "Oh, and... happy birthday!"
Lovino had never thought he could hate his birthday even more, but once again he was proved wrong.
It was really a good thing that Il Sadico and all his men left just then, because the specks of light that had been swimming in his vision for a while now flashed much brighter and he finally collapsed.