A/N: In which my Prussia/Romano bias shows in a very obvious way. As does my love for angst. Hopefully, the next chapter will be a little more light-hearted.
Thank you very much for the reviews, foxyaoi123, VampireNaomi, Linda, and anon! They made me insanely happy!
– CHAPTER 12 –
Forgotten
Having left the opera house, Lovino fully intended to head straight home and stay there for the rest of the day. The less time he spent outside, the better. He would only be exposing himself to danger, after all. He walked at a quick pace, not fast enough for it to be considered running, but hopefully fast enough to make his new stalker at least a little tired.
However, on the way home, he caught sight of something that made him stop in his tracks and stare. Antonio and Bella were together, as expected, but they weren't alone. Feliciano was with them, mirroring their merry expressions and laughing. There was also another girl, the pretty but touchy girl who had doused Lovino in wine at his birthday party. She looked as happy as them now, all traces of moodiness gone, and her smile was simply breathtaking. Next to Feliciano was Ludwig, as usual, and while he wasn't grinning like the others, there was the smallest hint of a smile. At the very least, his expression was the softest Lovino had ever seen on him, as if he were almost having fun for once.
Lovino watched them from a safe distance, a plethora of emotions taking hold of him. There were mostly negative emotions, such as hatred at Ludwig and resentment towards each and every one in that group. They all looked so happy and carefree, whereas Lovino was caught in a family vendetta and dealing with creepy idiots in order to survive. Even though Antonio and Bella were supposed to be having a date, Feliciano and Ludwig had joined them and the couple seemed to be fine with that. Had they invited Feliciano beforehand, and not Lovino? And that woman – Elisabetta, was it? – what was she doing there? Why did she look so happy and friendly towards everyone except him? If only she had given him that beautiful, radiant smile on the day they had met, Lovino could have died happy... Well, all right, maybe that was a bit of an exaggeration, but his point remained.
There wasn't only anger, though. In the innermost depths of his heart, he also could feel bittersweet longing. He figured this was how prisoners felt when they looked at the bright outside world from inside their dark cells. Despite his resentment, it did look like a nice group to be be with. His bubbly brother, his two best friends, a pretty girl... all together, all having fun. Although Lovino wasn't very social, he hated being alone. He wished he could be just like them, surrounded by friends, happy, without a care in the world. He wished he could join them, right now... yet he couldn't bring himself to. Not on his own. Maybe if one of them saw him and called him over...
But of course, they never noticed him standing there, watching them. They were too caught up in their own world, a world that, admittedly, Lovino probably had no place in. He stayed right where he was, though, and continued to just watch them, half-hoping that they would see him, half-hoping they wouldn't, while his soul ached with loneliness and he cursed himself for being so pathetic.
"It's disgusting, isn't it?" said a raspy voice right next to him, startling Lovino. "Look at them! They just stand there and laugh like clowns. They're so simple-minded. I pity them." Gilbert was also watching the group, and despite his contemptuous words and mocking smirk, Lovino could tell he didn't mean it. He could see it in his eyes, could see his own longing and loneliness reflected on them. It was painful to watch, even more painful than watching the group.
"You're just jealous," he muttered dismissively.
"Nah." Gilbert laughed and shook his head. "I love being on my own. It's much more fun that way. No one to lecture me or order me around or call me names. I can do whatever I want, whenever I want, and I don't have to care about what my so-called 'friends' are going to think. Honestly, I'm better off this way, and so are you, so you can stop looking like a kicked puppy now."
Lovino sputtered, his face heating up again. "I-I'm not—I don't—I was just feeling sorry for you because you're such a pitiful loser without friends! I'm not like you; I have friends! I have Antonio and Bella, who risked their own lives to help me! They're real friends!" he boasted.
Gilbert's smirk now looked more like a snarl. "Then why aren't you with them?"
"B-because I don't feel like it! Just because they're my friends doesn't mean I have to be with them all the time! Besides, your stupid brother is there, and I don't want to be anywhere near him!"
"Liar," said Gilbert smugly. "You're even more pitiful than you say I am! You have friends, but you don't even have the guts to join them! Loser!" he laughed again, even though his eyes looked unusually bright. Lovino's eyes also stung and his throat felt uncomfortably tight, preventing him from retorting in a dignified way. So they just glared at each other in silence, looking like they were about to burst into tears.
In reality, they both made quite a pitiful pair. It was, in a way, a little comforting to know there was someone in this world who was as pathetic as him, if not more.
A light cough caught their attention and they turned to see Elisabetta standing before them, her face void of the cheer from minutes ago. With a quick glance at where the group had been conversing, Lovino could see that they had dispersed at some point during his argument with Gilbert. He couldn't help but feel a little disappointed, though he was also glad that he didn't have to watch them any more.
Elisabetta frowned at them. "Excuse me, but are you two crying? Did something happen?"
"Yes, I'm crying!" announced Gilbert, grinning like a maniac. "I'm crying tears of joy! I'm so happy to be alone that I'm crying!" He laughed again, ignoring Elisabetta's wary look. She then gave Lovino an inquisitive, worried look.
Lovino quickly wiped his eyes just in case. "'S just allergies," he muttered with a sniffle.
"Oh. Do you have hay fever?"
"No, I'm just allergic to idiots," he grumbled, with a pointed glare at Gilbert. When his gaze returned to Elisabetta, his expression softened and his lips curled into a suave smile almost on instinct. "But now that you are here, it should get better, Miss..." Oh, dammit, he couldn't for the life of him remember her family name.
"Magherini," she supplied, not looking very amused. Oops. However, despite her cold tone of voice, she also looked uncomfortable, as if she had done something wrong. She even kept her gaze on the ground. "Mr. Vargas, I would like to apologise for my... outburst... at your birthday party. I was upset and I wasn't thinking straight, but that is no excuse. I'm sorry."
Lovino was speechless for a moment. He wasn't used to receiving apologies, especially not from people who sounded genuinely regretful. Usually, he was the one who was expected to apologise, even when it wasn't his fault.
"Oh... uh... That's all right," he told her, a little uncertainly. Elisabetta nodded, and when she raised her head again, her eyes were cold again. She spared a quick yet clearly meaningful glance at Gilbert, who was also unusually quiet and lacking that irritating smirk. "Mr. Vargas, you are Feliciano's brother, so I'm sure you're a good person. But, as you know, even the best of men can fall when they are surrounded by the wrong people. I suggest you choose your friends wisely."
"Oh, wow, very subtle, Elisabetta!" scoffed Gilbert. "Since when do you talk like a polished, respectful lady? The Elisabetta I know would have just said, 'Stay the hell away from that fucker if you know what's good for you!' Are you actually trying to impress this loser?"
"I have no idea what you are talking about," she said, giving him a chilling smile.
"In any case, you don't have to worry, Miss Magherini," interjected Lovino. "Believe me when I say I wish I could be as far away from this... person as humanly possible."
Her smile turned a little crooked at his words. "Good, Mr. Vargas. You're smarter than you look. Well, gentlemen—I mean, gentleman—I must go now. I'll see you later."
A little peeved by the backhanded compliment, Lovino muttered a polite farewell and watched her walk away until she disappeared around the corner.
"So, is she your ex-girlfriend or something like that?" he asked.
"Something like that," replied Gilbert, sounding like he had a very bitter taste in his mouth. "She's a real bitch. You should stay away from her."
"At least she's pretty. Between you and her, I'd take her company over yours any day of the week, even if I had to take another wine bath." Why was he still talking to this freak, again? He did want to get as far away from him as humanly possible, didn't he?
"No, seriously, she will kick your ass if you get on her bad side," said Gilbert, following Lovino when he also began to walk away.
"She can't be worse than my wife."
"What—You're married? You?"
Lovino hesitated. Although he sometimes referred to Natalia as his wife, he didn't really know if that term was accurate, since they had never consummated their marriage and had been together for such a short time. He had no intention of revealing that much to this man, however. He had already talked too much, anyway. "I was. She—I'm a widower." Because half-truths made the best lies.
"Oh... er... I'm sorry..."
Lovino arched an eyebrow as he surreptitiously stole a glance at Gilbert. For the first time ever, Gilbert was the one who looked ill at ease, awkward, embarrassed. Well, well, so he did have enough grace to be serious once in a while, huh? Oh, but this was just perfect. Gilbert was actually feeling bad! Lovino had to bite the inside of his mouth to keep himself from smirking. He could use this for his advantage. If Gilbert really had a soft heart under that crust of smugness, surely the idiot wouldn't refuse answering a poor widower's question?
"So, what's the deal with Miss Magherini?" he asked, not even trying to be subtle. It was in his nature to be blunt, after all, and subtlety would probably have gone right over Gilbert's head. Better cut straight to the chase.
"Geez, why are you so interested in her, anyway? You thinking about wooing her or something?"
"Maybe I am," said Lovino, perhaps a little too casually. "Maybe I am trying to fill the void that my late wife left in my heart – not to mean the void in my lineage, since we never had any children." The latter part came out more or less by accident, to make up for the preceding mushiness that made him gag a little inside.
He must have said the right thing, though, because from the corner of his eye he could see Gilbert shudder in apparent revulsion before he burst out, "Well, if that's what you're after, I'll say it again, stay away from that bitch. Even God knows she's no wife material. For your information, she's been engaged three times. Three! Honestly, what kind of woman fails to get married three times? First she was supposed to marry Roderich Edelstein, and then—"
"Roderich Edelstein?" exclaimed Lovino. "The Roderich Edelstein? The guy who adopted me and my brother?"
"Huh? He adopted you, too?" Gilbert frowned. "I had no idea. Why weren't you living with Feliciano when I met him, then?"
Lovino's first impulse was to reply with his usual, "None of your fucking business," but he hesitated before a single word got out. If he refused to say anything now, Gilbert might also refuse to disclose any more information, or maybe he would pester Lovino until he got his answer. Once again, he chose to tell a half-truth, weighing his words very carefully:
"He couldn't stand me because I refused to kiss his ass, so he sent me back to the orphanage." He couldn't keep the bitterness out of his voice, even though he had never liked Edelstein. It was just so humiliating, how he had been returned to the orphanage like that, like some kind of defective good being returned to its seller.
He half-expected Gilbert to laugh at him yet again, to mock him for such a humiliation. What he didn't expect was an appreciative pat on the back.
"I'm liking you more and more, Feliciano's brother," said Gilbert. "You must have driven that bastard crazy, if he preferred to just get rid of you rather than try to discipline you. Anyone who defies Roderich Edelstein and pisses him off like that is worthy of my respect." Oddly enough, he sounded as though he meant every word.
"As if I wanted or needed your so-called respect," spat Lovino. And yet, a small part of him was... rather flattered. No one had ever respected him. Ever. Everyone had only ever seen him as that difficult, weak, useless brat, pitied by some and despised by others. The girls who had admired him and flirted with him didn't count, as they had been oblivious to his true nature. No one who really knew him had ever appreciated his contentious attitude. And here Gilbert was, praising him for it and sounding very sincere about it. It was a whole new and strange feeling. Now, if only someone he actually cared about would praise him like that, at least once in his life...
"Anyway," Gilbert went on, seemingly oblivious to Lovino's wistful mood, "Elisabetta was supposed to marry the sissy bastard after his wife died." His tone was as casual as before, but there was a rather long, strange pause before he continued, "But shit happened and they had to call it off. She was absolutely devastated. She really liked the guy, you know? He tried to make it up to her by arranging a marriage between her and me."
"You? Why you? How can he even decide such a thing when you're not even—"
"Geez, are you really gonna make me say it? It's embarrassing." Gilbert mumbled something else under his breath and pouted, kicking at a small pebble on the ground, like a big, petulant child. Lovino couldn't make out a single word.
"Come again?"
"I'm his son, okay?" Gilbert burst out, attracting a few odd glances from passers-by. "Or I was, until he disowned me and I left home – which I was going to do anyway, because it's not like I wanted or needed his money or possessions."
Lovino stared at him in disbelief. "You're his son?"
"No! Weren't you listening? He disowned me – though not before I disowned him, mind you. Anyway, I'm pretty sure I was never his son to begin with. We don't look alike at all, do we? Do we?"
"Er—"
"That's what I thought. Mother must have got herself an awesome lover like the smart woman she was. Hah! Take that, Edelstein! Cuckold!" He cackled.
Lovino began to slowly inch away from the raving madman next to him.
"Anyway, as I was saying," Gilbert continued, wrapping his arm around Lovino's shoulder and preventing him from escaping, "my marriage with Elisabetta had to be called off, too, for obvious reasons. It'd never have worked out, anyway; we were always at each other's throats. But then, because Edelstein felt bad again, he got her engaged with my little brother Heinrich. Or so I heard. I was already out of town by then, so I only heard about what happened later on."
"I think I've heard of that Heinrich, actually," said Lovino pensively. "I never met him; I think he was in some other town studying when I came to live with the Edelsteins."
"Yeah, I heard about that, too."
Lovino fell silent, waiting for Gilbert to continue his story. However, Gilbert seemed to have got lost in a world of his own, his gaze unreadable and staring unseeingly into the distance. Feeling impatient, Lovino cleared his throat.
"And then?"
Gilbert looked mildly startled, but then shrugged and said, "And then he died."
Lovino was disturbed. Not so much by the fact that Gilbert's little brother had died, but by the casual way in which he had said it. Gilbert had obviously been pained when mentioning his mother's death – what else would explain that long, heavy pause? – and yet the death of his little brother didn't seem to affect him at all. Could it be that they hadn't got along? Perhaps Gilbert resented his brother... for being their father's favourite child, maybe? That would mean that their relationship had been akin to that between Lovino and Feliciano, but...
Lovino tried to imagine how he would feel if his own brother died. Despite the jealousy and resentment, the mere idea upset him. No, he wouldn't have been that indifferent about his brother's death. Even the death of his grandfather, whom he also resented deeply, still pained him. What was Gilbert's problem, then?
"Did you not get along with your brother?" he asked him.
Another casual shrug. "Eh, I did like him, but we weren't very close, you know. His father tried to keep us apart – he insisted that I was a bad influence on Heinrich – and besides, we were really different, personality-wise. Heinrich was a quiet sort of guy; he liked to be by himself and he didn't like disobeying his father. We rarely got to see each other, let along talk. We were like strangers to each other. Poor kid. He had a lot of potential."
Lovino almost – almost – asked, "Potential for what?" but then decided he would be better off not knowing. Roderich Edelstein might have been a bastard, but he had got one thing right; Gilbert was a terrible influence and should probably never be allowed to interact with children. That twisted mind of his could easily corrupt the innocent and model them after himself. Lovino shuddered at the mere thought. God forbid any more Gilberts in this world, because one was bad enough.
Since Gilbert had fallen into a brooding silence once again, Lovino was about to call him back on topic... only to realise that he had no idea what they had been talking about in the first place. At some point they had gone on a tangent about Gilbert's little brother, but Lovino couldn't see how that was relevant at all—No, wait, they had been talking about Elisabetta, right?
"But what does that have to do with Miss Magherini?" he wondered out loud.
Gilbert paused and blinked, as if wondering the same thing himself, until he finally remembered.
"Oh, yeah, my point was... er... stay away from Elisabetta! She always turns every marriage into a disaster! It's like she's cursed or something."
However, Lovino wasn't paying attention any more, having completely lost interest in what Gilbert had to say. He had just confirmed what he had known all along: Gilbert was full of shit. And he had got his answer; there was nothing wrong with Elisabetta. All Lovino wanted now was to go home, away from this nuisance.
"I need a drink," he announced in a moment of insight.
"Oh, man, me too," said Gilbert, suddenly very eager.
They headed to the tavern, where Lovino ordered some of their best wine and Gilbert ordered cheap, disgusting-looking beer. Gilbert kept ranting about Edelstein and Elisabetta and occasionally told tasteless jokes – which, admittedly, were pretty funny – and then he even taught Lovino a few curses in his native language. In the end, Lovino still thought German was a horrible, ugly language, but he had to admit that it was excellent for cursing; the harsh sounds were perfect for it, so angry and intimidating.
However, he wasn't here for fun. He had come to this place with a very specific purpose in mind. After a few hours of slow, moderate drinking, watching his companion drink cup after cup without a care in the world, Lovino stood up from his seat, swayed a little for show, leant over Gilbert, and slurred, "I'm gonna take a piss. Be right back."
"'Kay!" replied Gilbert, sniggering uncontrollably at some joke he had just told himself.
Lovino calmly walked to the door. Once outside, he ran.
oOo
Lovino was almost happy. After all, he had finally lost Gilbert and he could finally have some peace, and he had even picked Gilbert's coin purse in the process. Sadly, this peace would only last as long as it took for Gilbert to sober up and realise that Lovino wasn't coming back, but at least he could get some respite now. Still, this one good thing wasn't nearly enough to make up for his terrible morning, and his mood was still quite sour.
"Oh, you're back, Lovino!" his brother greeted him as soon as he entered the house. "How did it go with Francis? Did you like the opera house? Have you already started rehearsing?"
"Don't be stupid, Feliciano," muttered Lovino, too tired to give a proper rant about how he hated Francis Bonnefoy and how he thought this whole idea had been beyond stupid.
"Well, you can tell me all about it later," said Feliciano, undeterred. "Or you can come with me and tell me on the way. I was just about to go out. I want to paint the city from the bridge; it looks just stunning around this time of the year. Ludwig is coming with me. Why don't you come along, too?"
And suddenly, as if summoned by name, he was there, with his intimidating aura in full force as he loomed behind the blissfully oblivious Feliciano.
"A-as if I'd want to g-go anywhere with that b-bastard!" he snapped, trying to glare back at Ludwig, but the effect was ruined by the stammering and the shaking of his body. Ludwig looked like he was ready to kill him with his bare hands.
"Well, if you're sure!" chirped Feliciano. "If you change your mind, you can join us any time. I'll be back in time for dinner, okay? Bye!"
Rather than respond to his brother's words, Lovino kept glaring at Ludwig, filled with so much hatred that he felt as though he were going to burst. God, how he loathed that man! He hadn't forgotten about his humiliation the day before at all. Oh, but Ludwig would pay for it, that was for sure. Lovino would have his revenge.
He continued to watch them from the window, sneering when his brother latched onto Ludwig's arm like a lovestruck girl. It was so wrong on so many levels that Lovino could barely watch, and he begged God to have mercy on his brother's innocent soul. It wasn't Feliciano's fault that he was an idiot. He must have dropped as a baby or something.
At the same time, a part of him envied Feliciano for having someone like Ludwig. Ludwig did everything for him, from helping him get dressed to carrying him when he was too tired, and he always kept him company. He didn't look like he was having fun, and he would sometimes complain about his master's flighty nature, but all things considered, he was admirably patient and tolerant. He was always there to help Feliciano and get him out of trouble when needed.
Lovino hated Ludwig with every fiber of his being, but even he could see his good qualities. Ludwig was strong, efficient, alert, reliable, and obedient. Like a good soldier. If only Lovino had someone like him as his bodyguard, he would never have to worry about being attacked. He would feel much safer with such a person than with Gilbert. Honestly, what kind of bodyguard allowed himself to get drunk and robbed and lose sight of his charge so easily? Lovino could never trust such an incompetent fool with his life.
No wonder Feliciano looked so happy all the time. He lacked nothing but good sense. He was so lucky. In fact, he was as lucky as Lovino was unlucky. It just wasn't fair.
With a sigh, Lovino withdrew from the window as soon as the pair was out of his sight. Apparently, Antonio and Bella hadn't come back yet, and the servants would probably try to avoid him like the plague. They didn't like him because he kept breaking things and making messes, and they seemed to think he was too rude and unkind. Ludwig almost certainly had spoken unfavourable things about him, too, and got them all against him.
In other words, he pretty much had the house to himself for the next hours. He wandered around, feeling a little restless, and the servants did an amazing job at avoiding him, because he could swear he was all alone in the house. The silence was overwhelming, broken – and, ironically, accentuated – by the faint, distant ticking of a grandfather clock.
It was like the universe was mocking him, doing everything it could to point out how miserable and lonely Lovino was. Everyone else was out having fun, and here he was, confined to his own house, all alone and unable to even take his frustration out on anyone. He almost regretted having left Gilbert behind at the tavern.
Almost. He wasn't that desperate quite yet.
He must have been so lost in his own thoughts that he had taken a wrong turn at some point, because Lovino suddenly realised that he was in an unfamiliar part of the house. Feliciano's theory that Lovino had got lost in his own house wasn't entirely out there; Lovino had never had a fantastic sense of direction, nor had he ever taken the time to explore certain parts of the house, and this was a huge house. It was easy to get lost in it. It could have happened to anyone, really!
Now, normally, he would have just been glad that there was no one here to laugh at him for getting lost in his own house and then kept walking until he located himself. This wasn't the first time he had got lost – it had been a common occurrence in his childhood – and he had managed just fine most of those times.
But this time, it was different. He felt oddly anxious. Maybe it was because this part of the house was so dark and silent. It was a little creepy. And maybe it was only his imagination, but he felt as though he were being watched. The realisation that this could very well be true didn't help at all. He was being hunted by the Russos, after all, and now that his alleged bodyguard was stupidly drinking himself into a stupor at the tavern, Lovino was an even easier target. It could be just like the evening of his birthday, when those brutes had jumped from the shadows and dragged him away into a dark room, only this time they would do much worse things than blackmail him. And it could happen any time now!
He staggered, suddenly feeling very dizzy, so that he had to lean on the wall for support. The continuous ticking of that clock now sounded as loud as if it were right inside his head, reverberating and making it very difficult to think. In the distance, he thought he could hear someone approaching, and when he stared into the dark corridor, he thought he saw something move in the shadows, and something glint, maybe a knife?
Oh, God, they were here! They were going to kill him, and his body was paralysed in fear; he couldn't even reach for his gun or any of his knives! He tried to scream for help, even if he doubted there would be anyone to help him, but he wasn't sure if he was making any sound, because he couldn't hear anything but that accursed, deafening clock. He tried to summon words of prayer to his mind, but none came; he was so overcome with terror and panic that he was no longer capable of coherent thought.
Oh God, oh God, was all he could think frantically as he closed his eyes tightly. Oh God, oh God, oh God, oh G—
oOo
When he came to, all he knew was that his head hurt and he felt very cold, so that he tried and only half-succeeded to curl up on his side in a vain attempt to preserve warmth. The next thing he realised was that he was lying on a hard surface. He had no idea where he was or how he had ended up there, but he was too exhausted to move or even think about anything. He just lay there and breathed, waiting for his headache to abate a little. He could hear the ticking of a clock, faint enough that it didn't aggravate his headache, and the sound felt rather reassuring and soothing in what would otherwise have been absolute, suffocating silence.
Some time passed. He couldn't tell how long he had stayed there, but it must have been at least an hour. It certainly felt like days, though. In the meantime, he gradually became aware of his surroundings and began to remember what had happened prior to his blackout. He remembered he had got lost in his house and thought he was going to be attacked. Well, he was still here and unharmed, save for the headache – even his weapons were still with him – so there had been no one around, after all, either enemy or friend.
He must have had one of those fits. A mild one, most likely. That would explain everything, including why he had freaked out like that. He wasn't that paranoid, or at least he didn't think so. He had probably been hallucinating or something.
While relieved that he was still alive, Lovino couldn't bring himself to feel any happier. Not even a year ago, he had been celebrating the fact that he hadn't had a fit for a whole year, filled with hope that he'd been cured at last, and now he'd had two in the span of three days. This was a very bad omen. Worse yet, no one had come to help him at all. After all these hours, no one had noticed he was missing and come looking for him, because they were too busy having a date or painting a bridge or drinking beer or whatever. He could have died and no one would have known! He could have cracked his skull open in his fall or been attacked for real by Russo's men, and no one would have noticed it. They would only have found his cold corpse days later, he would bet. Or maybe one of the servants had seen him lying here, but hadn't even bothered to help. He wouldn't put it past them, the spiteful bastards.
Even when he was fully alert again and felt strong enough to get up, he remained curled up on the floor, shivering a little from the cold and choked up with frustration, just waiting to see if someone would come after all. Better later than never, right? It was silly of him, and he scorned himself for it, but he still hoped that someone would come to his assistance. Anyone would do, even one of the servants. Even Ludwig or Bonnefoy. It was better than being all alone like this, like a discarded piece of trash no one cared about.
He waited for a long time, but no one came. The house was still completely silent. And he couldn't help the thought that he was to blame for his current situation. At least to himself, he was ready to admit it; it was his fault that he was all alone now. He could have swallowed his pride and joined Antonio and Bella, without caring that he would be a third wheel. He could have joined Feliciano, without allowing himself to feel annoyed by Ludwig or jealous that Feliciano could paint that fucking bridge so well. He could have stayed at the tavern with Gilbert and told some obscene jokes of his own, learnt a few more swearwords in German. Heck, he could even have stayed at the opera house and got to know his future co-workers, after eating that nice breakfast that Francis Bonnefoy had brought him. But no, he had run away from everybody. It seemed that was all he ever did in his life now. He ran away from his problems, from his responsibilities, even from his own family and friends.
At last, he unsteadily got up on his feet, no longer able to hold back the bitter tears that had been prickling at his eyes. He was so angry, so angry at himself and at the whole world, that he felt as if he were losing his mind. He just wanted to break something, so make someone hurt as badly as him. An involuntary roar tore from deep within his chest and he grabbed the nearest object – a small portrait on the wall – and threw it with all his might on the floor. He then proceeded to scream bloody murder and yell random curses at no one in particular while knocking over and smashing everything breakable he found in his way – portraits, vases, mirrors, statues... If it were possible, he would have reduced the entire house to ruins.
"Bastards! Fuck you all! Damn you! God damn you to hell! Shit! I hate you!"
"Hey!"
He almost passed out again from sheer fright at the sound of another voice suddenly by his ear and two strong hands wrapping firmly around his wrists. Lovino looked over his shoulder and was met with a very pale face. It took him a moment to recognise it.
"G-Gilbert?" he asked, breathing harshly. He wasn't very reassured by the scowl he got in response.
"Yeah, glad you still remember me," growled Gilbert, squeezing Lovino's wrists and making him flinch in pain. "After waiting at the fucking tavern for hours, I was pretty sure you'd forgotten about me." He craned his neck a little to take a better look at Lovino's face and smirked. "Wow! Are you so awed and delighted by my awesome presence that you've been reduced to tears?"
That was when Lovino realised that, yes, he was still crying. He would have wiped the tears, if only Gilbert weren't still holding his wrists, so all he could do to preserve what little was left of his dignity was sniff and snap, "Fuck you! As if anyone could forget such an ugly face! I left you there on purpose, you gullible sucker! I wanted to get rid of you!"
"Is that so? Then I forgive you," Gilbert said and let go of Lovino's wrists. "I'd have been sad if you'd just forgotten about me, but if that was all a carefully crafted masterplan to escape, I must commend you on your genius."
Lovino couldn't tell if Gilbert was being sarcastic, nor did he care to at the moment. Now that the anger had drained out of him and the shock of Gilbert's sudden arrival had passed, Lovino felt dizzy with exhaustion. He fell back against Gilbert, who made sure he remained upright.
"Hey, are you all right? What were you doing, anyway? Is there a particular reason why you were throwing a temper tantrum in this dark, abandoned part of the mansion? Why are you even here in the first place? No one ever comes here any more. Look, it's all dusty here. Even the servants won't come to this part of the house."
Lovino blinked sluggishly. So, this part of the house was abandoned? Maybe it was no wonder that no one had come to help him, then, since no one would have thought to look here in the first place.
But... someone had come looking for him, in the end, even if a bit too late. Perhaps not with the intention to help him, but neither was it with the intention to cause him serious harm.
"H-how... how did you find me, then? If no one ever comes here..."
"Idiot," said Gilbert, giving him what was probably supposed to be a light-hearted slap on the head, but it made his head ring in a most unpleasant, sickening way. "I've been looking all over for you ever since I realised you weren't coming back to the tavern. I was really mad; I was sure you were going to flee the town or something stupid like that, and then I'd be the one to pay for it. But I came here hoping I'd be able to catch you still getting supplies or something. As soon as I came in, I knew you'd be here. I could hear you throwing a fit here; it wasn't hard to find you at all. Thanks for making my life a lot easier."
"Bastard," muttered Lovino, with an elbow to Gilbert's side. Now standing on his own, he turned his back to him and wiped his tears, sniffling and feeling like a little kid. Gilbert made no move to approach him again, and when Lovino looked back at him, the man appeared to be a little uncertain.
"Um, hey, I don't know what happened to make you, er, freak out like that, but, you know, you look like shit."
"No shit," Lovino snapped.
"No, really, you look dead on your feet—"
"Yes, I get it! Shut the fuck up already!"
"But I really—Aww, man, look what you've done!" Gilbert suddenly turned his attention to one of the portraits that Lovino had thrown to the floor. He knelt down to clear the pieces of a broken vase off it. "Feliciano isn't going to be happy about this."
"Why should he care about some old portrait that was in an abandoned part of the house?"
"For the same reason I care. This is my little brother Heinrich. I told you about him earlier today, remember?"
Curious despite himself, Lovino came closer and squinted in the dark to take a look at the portrait. Gilbert picked it up and held it in a way that it caught the faint light streaming from a window in an adjacent corridor. Lovino could now see, if just barely, two people in the portrait. One of them was familiar to him, belonging to Roderich Edelstein, looking as poised and snobbish as Lovino remembered him. The other one was a child, a young boy, with fair hair and skin. He also looked familiar, though...
"Isn't he cute? He took after his mother in appearance, thank God," remarked Gilbert.
"He looks like a fucking bully," said Lovino bluntly.
"Nah. He tried to look mean and tough, but he was really weak, and deep down he was a sweet guy."
Lovino stared at the portrait a little longer. He suddenly had a rather odd feeling about it...
"You know," he began, his voice guarded, "he really reminds me of that bastard Ludwig."
"Oh?"
"Your adopted little brother."
"Uh-huh?"
"I mean, really reminds me of him."
"Yeah?"
Lovino turned to glare at Gilbert in silent accusation.
"Hey, why do you think I adopted Ludwig?" Gilbert laughed. "I mean, do I look like the kind of guy who goes around adopting random kids in the street for fun? No fucking way! I adopted him exactly because he reminded me so much of Heinrich! I wanted to see how he'd have turned out if I'd been allowed to give him my 'bad influence' from the start."
"Apparently, you failed."
"Yeah, Ludwig is still a stick-in-the-mud. Shame."
Lovino shook his head and straightened up. Why was he still here talking to this moron? He was very tired, and he really wanted to get out of this dark labyrinth.
"Whatever. Let's just get out of here."
Now that he had Gilbert to guide him, he found himself back in a familiar area of the house in no time. Hearing excited voices coming from the main hall, Lovino headed that way and saw that Feliciano, Ludwig, Antonio, and Bella were back. Oh, sure, now that he didn't need their help any more, they were all here.
"What took you so fucking long, dammit?" was how he greeted them.
"Oh, Lovino..." Bella began, and before she even said anything else, Lovino was filled with guilt. No matter how mad he was, it didn't feel right to yell at her, and not only because she was a pretty girl. He averted his gaze, wishing he could hide in a hole somewhere, and retreated from the hall before Bella had the chance to talk to him.
oOo
Dinner was a nightmare for him, and pretty awkward for almost everyone else. Feliciano had been clearly upset when he'd heard of the destruction in that abandoned corridor, though Lovino had no idea why it was such a big deal. He hadn't yelled at Lovino or anything, but he was clearly upset and his smile didn't quite reach his eyes. Antonio and Bella kept asking Lovino questions about how his morning in the opera house, even though Lovino refused to talk about it. In fact, he ignored them altogether, even when they changed the topic of their conversation. Ludwig alternated between glaring daggers at him and throwing worried glances at Feliciano. Meanwhile, Gilbert complained that he had been robbed and couldn't pay for the drinks at the tavern.
Lovino just played with his food, listless and weary. He wasn't hungry at all – if anything, he felt a little sick to his stomach – and he was sure the servants had spat in his food. Feliciano hadn't been the one to cook it, and the servants had been less than pleased about the mess in the abandoned corridor that they had to clean up. At this rate, Russo's men weren't the only ones he would have to worry about.
"Hey, guys! May I have a moment of your attention, please? Guys! Shut up!" Gilbert spoke up all of a sudden, interrupting Antonio and Bella's conversation about the beauty of Terraverde. Everyone turned to look at him, including Lovino, and Gilbert looked even smugger than usual under all the attention he was getting. "I have great news! From now on, I'll be living here in Feliciano's house!"
Lovino and Ludwig dropped their forks.
"Wow, that's great!" said Antonio. "Now we can see each other more often!"
"But, Gilbert, I thought you hated this house!" said Feliciano in surprise.
No, no, Feliciano was doing it wrong; that wasn't what he was supposed to say at all! The first thing he should have said was, "Hell, no!" followed by, "You can't just decide that on your own! This is my house now!" Stupid Feliciano.
"I hated it when it belonged to that prissy bastard, and I still think it's kinda too stuffy for my tastes, but you know, I have no choice. Now that I'm Feliciano's brother's butler, I have to live here, so that whenever he needs my help, I'll be there for him."
Feliciano started giggling for some reason. Antonio also looked amused, but there was a glint of something like unease in his eyes. Bella just blinked in surprise and turned to stare at Lovino, who was seriously considering hiding under the table before this could get any worse. He didn't know how it could get any worse, but he had no doubt that it would.
"Gilbert, be serious for once," said the Voice of Reason, otherwise known as Ludwig.
"I am serious! Now I work for Feliciano's brother, just like you work for Feliciano. It's not fair that only you get to work for a cute Vargas. Now I have my own cute Vargas to pamper and torment, depending on my mood." He cackled again.
"Well, I think it's a great idea," Feliciano chimed in. "Now that Antonio and Bella are together, Lovino might get a little lonely sometimes. I'm happy he's made a new friend."
Antonio and Bella blushed and tried to protest that they weren't together, but they went completely ignored.
"Besides," Feliciano continued, "it makes sense that our brothers are friends just like we're friends, right, Ludwig? And that we all get to live together! Now we're like a family!"
"That's right! A big happy family!" said Gilbert, wrapping his arm around an utterly mortified Lovino. Oh, he had known it would get worse, but not to this extent.
"Lovino, can I talk to you?" Bella asked. "I'm a little worried about you..."
"Oh, me too!" said Feliciano. "Lovino, I really want to ask you something."
Oh, to hell with it. He had had enough; he couldn't take it any more. Lovino stood abruptly from his seat.
"Sorry, but I'm really tired. I'm going to bed and I don't want to be disturbed," he announced in his coldest tone of voice and headed straight to his bedroom, where he locked himself up and planned to spend the rest of the night trying to pretend this day had never happened.
Only five minutes later, he heard heavy footsteps approaching and stopping right before his door. There was a rapid series of small thuds. A chair had been put on the floor and someone had sat on it, so that it would be impossible for Lovino to open the door without disturbing whoever was sitting in that chair. Raspy cackling was heard from the other side of the door.
"You can't hide forever, Feliciano's brother. And trust me, I learnt my lesson today. You won't escape from me so easily a second time."