Lovino pulled a stack of prints from his flat file, carefully laying them side by side on the tables to be evaluated. He walked around the room with his arms folded over his chest, studying every detail of the quickly created artwork as he decided which print was the most perfect. A shiver wracked his shoulders as he leaned forward to closely study the details of one of his more precise lithographs, the chilly morning air filtering through the slightly cracked studio windows helped to wake his tired mind, but it felt harsh on his fat deprived body. The weekend had been a long one, Antonio's intrusion on Friday night had left him feeling defeated, and in a moment of weakness he had considered giving up and moving back to Austria. It was only when he considered what would happen with Feliciano and Antonio if he left that his dedication was renewed. Lovino's life wasn't about him, it was about keeping Feliciano safe and happy. His parents had told him to watch out for his little brother and he would do it, even if he suffered as a result.
It wasn't just that, Lovino realized as he pulled a pencil from his pocket and scribbled a sloppy "B.A.T" on left bottom corner of the cleanest edition. As much as he avoided interaction with him, Lovino had become dependent on his brother. If he didn't have Feliciano to watch over, to give him a purpose in life, he wasn't sure what he'd be doing, but he was certain it would be worse than slaving away in an art studio. Lovino walked around the tables, leaning down and writing a swift "1/11" when he located the second best lithograph. It was funny really, he considered as he continued to number his prints, glancing occasionally out the window at the blue fall morning. To an onlooker, it would seem as if Feliciano was a burden on his older brother. In reality, the reverse was true. Feliciano would be fine on his own, he loved Lovino and would be sad to be without him, but he was outgoing, he did well with people and didn't carry the same burdens and memories as his brother. If anything, Lovino inhibited his relationships. He let people like Feliciano, even love him, but only from afar. If they ever tried to get too close, he would clamp down on them, and scare them until they had no choice but to back away.
'It's too early to think about this shit,' he told himself wearily as he straightened his hunched back and turned toward the lightening sky. The dim morning sun shone lazily, still not strong enough to penetrate the room, and Lovino was forced to regard his rumpled and gaunt figure in the reflecting window. The Italian sighed and lay his pencil on the table, plodding across the room until his breath fogged the glass. Fall had always been his favorite season, people were too excited, too full of love in the Spring and Summer. Autumn brought in overcast skies and a sombre chill, it made Lovino feel less alien, like the weather was relating to his mood. He closed his tired eyes and pushed his cheek against the window, shivering against the cold surface as he placed his hands next to his face, desperately gripping the glass. Maybe if he stayed like this, completely quiet and still, he could become one with the season.
"Ah, how's it going?" A loud voice sounded, Lovino snapped his eyes open and jumped back from the glass, whirling around to face his intruder.
"P-professor," he sputtered, mentally kicking himself for appearing so flaky in front of his teacher. He had known the man had a tendency to come in early, that was why he had ignored his body's protests and arrived in the studio just as the sun was starting to dilute the dark night. If he was going to be reamed for his newest work, he wanted it to be done as soon as possible and with no one around, the anticipation would have killed him and public humiliation was undoubtedly more than he could handle in his weak mental state.
"You've gone and smudged up the glass, they pay good money to keep those windows clean you know," the older man scolded lazily, taking a sip from a cup of steaming coffee before placing it carefully on the corner of the closest table. Lovino watched, disconcerted as his professor pulled a flat mop from the space between the wall and a drying rack and started sweeping the small wood chips and paper fragments from the floor, completely ignoring the Italian's new work.
"Uh-" Lovino started, anxiety suddenly gripping his heart as his head rushed to the worst possible conclusions. The man must have seen his work when he was pressed against the glass, looking like a stupid kid or a caged animal, and decided it wasn't worth his time. 'Stupid, stupid, stupid,' Lovino beat the mantra against his brain, growing frustrated with his inability to do anything right.
"I'm not going to look at those till you sign them," his professor sounded, not bothering to glance at his student as he whizzed around the room with the mop.
Lovino snapped from his mental berating and stumbled over to the tables, "ah, right, s-sorry," he mumbled, his thoughts gradually coming into focus when he realized his professor was doing a task that was technically his responsibility. "I can do that," he called suddenly to the distracted older man.
The Turk waved a hand over his shoulder, disregarding the boy as he continued to sweep. "No, sign your prints, I like doing this."
Lovino opened his mouth to argue, but decided against it. The man probably felt he was reliving his glory days by straightening the printmaking studio, old people were weird like that: once they became powerful enough to not do menial work, they suddenly desired it. Shrugging lightly, Lovino picked up his forgotten pencil from the table and hunched over lithographs, quickly making his way down the line of prints and decorating them with a simple cursive "L. Vargas."
"I'm done," he called when he had drawn the last "s," lifting his head up to locate his professor.
"Good," the man sounded behind the Italian, placing a large hand on the boy's bony shoulder and making him jump slightly in surprise. Lovino's cheeks flushed in embarrassment, but the Turk ignored him, lightly pushing Lovino out of the way as he leaned over the newly-finished lithographs. The minutes seemed to tick by in slow-motion as the Italian watched his professor inspect his prints, the older man's nose barely hovering above the surface of the thick, cotton paper as he poured over every detail.
"Better." The Turk said after what seemed an hour, but in reality had only been a few short minutes. Lovino just stared wide-eyed at his professor, relief flooding through his limbs as his mind registered what the older man had said. "These actually say something," his professor continued, waving a hand over the lithographs in emphasis. "You're definitely getting there," the man continued, thoughtfully scratching his bristled chin. "Now you just need to find a balance between being technical and being bat shit crazy."
"Ah, bat shi-wh-what?" Lovino demanded, anger creeping into his voice as his lips dipped into a scowl. "I thought you wanted me to let loose, and now you're telling me to be more technical?" He bit back, starting to stack his prints in frustration.
His professor shrugged, watching the Italian with an amused expression as he cocked a hip onto the table and leaned over to pick up his coffee. "Your prints are good, Mr. Vargas, but if you learned how to harness your emotions and printing prowess together, they could be great."
"If you think my work is shit just tell me," Lovino retorted, biting the inside of his cheek to keep himself from saying more.
The older man snorted into his coffee, coughing a bit before he broke into a deep laugh. "If I thought you sucked you would know." He lowered the cup from his mouth, "and don't talk to me that way, I'm your authority," he warned, face completely serious as he stared down the small Italian.
Lovino nodded slightly, refusing to make eye contact as his neck burned with humiliation. He wasn't used to being reprimanded for the way he spoke, Roderick had always ignored the boy, and everyone else seemed not to care enough to correct him. He realized that his professor was probably the first to actually expect anything other than failure out of him, and the pressure was unbearable. The two remained in an uncomfortable silence as Lovino tried to figure out how he could make the man hate him while still sustaining his position as his assistant. After a while, the older man sighed and moved his body off the table, stretching as he headed to the door to go back to his office.
"Hey, Vargas," he turned to regard the boy before he made his way down the hallway.
"Hm?" Lovino replied simply, not lifting his head from the floor as he distractedly tried to sort out his dilemma.
"I've got an exhibition at a place in town in a couple of weeks, I know it's not technically part of your duties, but I could really use some help setting up the show."
Lovino glanced up, a sour look planted on his face, "don't they have people there to do that?"
The Turk simply shrugged and leaned against the door frame, "I don't trust those idiots with my work. If you don't want to it's fine, but don't blame me if in my stress I up your tutoring sessions."
Lovino's mouth hung open in shock as he stared wide-eyed at the older man, "i-is that a threat?" He demanded angrily, folding his arms in front of his chest.
His professor laughed and turned his head to grin at the student, "there'll be food, wine, pretty girls-" Lovino paled and shook his head slightly. "Boys then, whatever you're into-"
"I'm not...I-I didn't say I'd go!" the Italian spat, feeling flustered.
"Sure, sure," his professor placated lazily, pushing himself off the doorframe. He waved a hand over his shoulder, "Thursday after next, see you then!" He shouted with finality as he plodded down the corridor.
Lovino stared dumbfounded at the empty doorway, wondering when it had become so easy to defy him. First that idiot Spaniard had disregarded his orders to stay away from the printmaking studio, and now his manipulative professor was making him give up an evening of work to help him hang an exhibition. 'It must be the lack of sleep,' he thought to himself, pressing his warm palms into his face and taking a deep breath before rubbing his tired eyes. He let his arms fall to his sides and stared around tiredly, he had surpassed one of the day's anxieties, now he just had to be sure he finished working before Antonio had the chance to catch him in the studio. He wasn't sure if the Spaniard had been serious, if he genuinely intended to haunt Lovino's work space until he granted him permission to date his brother, but he wasn't planning on finding out.
Lovino let his head fall to the side, rolling his shoulder backwards and sighing slightly at the releasing tension before moving towards his flat file and jerking it open. His arm ached uncomfortably from the effort and he pondered if the whirlwind printing sessions that weekend had actually constituted a work-out, before slumping back over to the table and lifting the heavy stack of lithographs. He mentally ticked through the day's schedule as he carefully placed the prints into his drawer, covering them with a thin piece of newsprint before carefully sliding the file shut. He had a class at nine and a tutoring session at two, if he skipped lunch he'd have a good two hours of work time before the student showed up for assistance. Lovino glanced at the clock on the wall, before cursing at his stupidity and shuffling into the adjoining room. "6:30," he sighed to himself, his tired eyes finding it difficult to tear away from the ticking black minute hand. Figuring that the tutoring would last three hours, he'd have a total work time of five and a half hours. He didn't dare stay later than six, part of him was worried even five was pushing it, but he didn't take Antonio to be the prompt type.
'Why do people find it necessary to make my life as difficult as possible,' he moped when he finally ripped his vision from the clock's foreboding white face and trudged back to the other room. The day passed quickly for the Italian. He tried to keep himself constantly moving, afraid that the moment he stopped, his momentum would loosen and he would collapse. He found his mind betraying him as his body whirled around, frantic to exit the studio by the predetermined time. He couldn't help but wonder if Antonio would actually show up, it was pulling at the back of his mind, inhibiting his focus and disrupting his progress. It was stupid to consider it, he realized, if not for the fact that he was trying to avoid the boy, than for the fact that Antonio wasn't coming to see him. He was coming for Feliciano. Lovino knew he had avoidance issues, he wouldn't keep himself so isolated if he didn't, but it troubled him that he couldn't bring his mind to fully accept the idea that the Spaniard felt no affection for him. He was constantly reminding himself why it would be so troublesome if he did, it had become a dry mantra, endlessly repeating itself in the crevices of his thoughts, but it made no difference. Lovino's heart still thumped in anxiety when he thought of the boy actually showing up to his studio.
'Stop it,' he told his wandering mind, gathering his things from the table and stuffing them in his satchel. Lovino cocked his head to the window when he had thrown his bag over his shoulder, enjoying the way the golden evening sunlight soaked the studio in a rich orange hue. "I did it," he sighed to himself, ignoring the twinge of disappointment that pulsed through his chest as he lumbered into the hall and towards his dorm. Lovino let a slight grin tease his lips when he pushed through the glass doors into the crisp autumn weather. The season had only just changed, yet the Italian could feel a change in the air, an inherent moodiness that made even the red and gold capped trees drop their foliage in mourning to the ground below. The normally packed sidewalks were bare, friends and lovers fleeing indoors to avoid the chilling air. Lovino allowed himself the luxury of feeling content as he plodded to his room, struggling to lift his feet from the ground. He had finished his work for the day and had successfully avoided Antonio, with any luck his brother would be at dinner when he arrived to the dorm, which meant Lovino could go to sleep with no interruptions. Knowing Feliciano, he wouldn't dare wake his brother from his much needed rest, even if it meant speaking with him for the first time in days. Lovino made his way into the residential building, glancing over his shoulder at the golden autumn weather before leaning heavily on the handrail and pulling himself up the stairs.
Lovino let his forehead thump against the door of his room as his hand groped for the handle, now that he was so close to his bed he was finding it impossible to remain upright. He flinched slightly when his palm finally wrapped around the cold metal knob, he pushed the door open with the weight of his limp upper body, stumbling for the bed while reminding himself to yell at Feliciano later for leaving the door unlocked. The Italian lay prone on his bed, willing himself to get up and change his clothes, or at least take off his shoes, but failing to find the energy to do it. After a few silent minutes he sighed and rolled himself over, wedging his shoes into the edge of the mattress and pulling until the loafers fell to the floor with a thud. Now that sleep was possible, he was finding it hard to succumb to it. It was as if his body had forgotten how to wind itself down.
Lovino tried not to concentrate on his inability to sleep, he knew if he let himself get frustrated it would never come. Instead he stared wistfully out the window, enjoying the sensation of doing nothing while he watched the setting sun flood through the glass and cover his body in a blanket of warm light. The Italian felt the air churn around him as his eyelids grew heavy, the buzz of the air conditioning was aggravating, it pitched higher and higher until it rang like a scream in his ears. "Stupid Feliciano, probably has it set too low," he mumbled to himself, gathering all his strength and pushing his heavy body from the bed. His limbs felt like lead as he attempted to pad across the room, it was as if he was treading water, the energy exerted didn't match the tiny steps his body was making.
Lovino hunched over the air unit, leaning his body against the window sill as he pulled the metal lid back from the knobs and studied their settings. '73, there shouldn't be anything wrong with that,' he grimaced when he considered having to call a maintenance worker. All he wanted to do was sleep, was that too much to ask? Aggravated, Lovino thumped his fist on the machine, jumping in surprise when it clicked on and started silently permeating the room with a cool breeze. Knitting his eyebrows in confusion, Lovino leaned his ear to the air conditioning, then the tv and the microwave, desperate to find the source of the unending high-pitched scream.
Once the room had been thoroughly checked, Lovino moved back to the window, fiddling with the locks until he was able to pull up the stiff frame. The Italian winced as the once annoying noise grew louder, no longer muffled by glass. He pushed his head into the window screen, desperately trying to spot the source of the incessant siren. He watched in shock as people strolled casually down the sidewalk, seemingly impervious to the shrill noise. "What's going on?" He mumbled to himself, fear intermingling with anger as he pushed furiously at the mesh screen, finally ripping a hole in the middle. He thrust his head into the cold, autumn air, whirling his vision around to locate the originator of the noise.
"Stop it." He growled when he couldn't spot the source, "STOP IT!" He yelled again, pushing his arms through the mesh, further ripping the surface as he slammed his sweating palms against his ears. In a last ditch effort, he tossed his sight to the roof, his heart freezing when he spotted a pair of toes curled around the edge. "Wh-what are you doing up there? Stop it with that damn noise!" He barked, gritting his teeth when he didn't receive an immediate response. "Hey you! Are you listening?"
Lovino felt his gut wrench painfully when a face appeared over the edge, the kind portrait smiling pleasantly as she glanced around for the person interrupting her piercing cries. "M-mom?" The Italian stuttered disbelieving, his legs suddenly turning to jelly as his knees threatened to give out beneath his weight. The ghostly face blinked knowingly, recognition lighting its eyes as it reached a hand to the boy below. Lovino's heart stopped when he saw a foot shift from the edge of the roof and swing forward, trying to step into the air in what the Italian could only guess was an attempt to come down and see him. "D-don't do that!" He called, trying frantically to get his body to move, but finding it paralyzed.
He opened his mouth in a silent scream as the body pitched forward, twisting awkwardly through the air before meeting the ground with a sickening thunk. The final smack echoed in Lovino's mind, he lost all sense of place and time as he willed his brain to escape the noise. "Stop," he croaked, wanting to claw at his ears but lacking the control of his limbs to do it. "STOP!"
"What was that?" A voice sounded suddenly. Lovino snapped his eyes opened, feeling confused as he tried to remember when he had closed them. He pushed himself up on his elbows, 'when did I lay down?' He pondered as his eyes adjusted to the dark room. The once golden window shone in a lazy pale blue, 'it was only a dream,' he realized, sighing as he sank back into his pillows. Lovino jumped when a series of short knocks sounded at his door, he stumbled from his bed immediately, too disoriented from his dream and lack of sleep to consider the consequences.
"Hey Lovi!" A friendly voice rang when the Italian pulled the door open, leaning heavily against the frame when his eyes swam with dizziness.
"What the hell are you doing here?" Lovino ground out, he thought leaving the studio meant not having to deal with Antonio, never had he imagined that the boy would actually track him down in his dorm.
"I was looking for Feliciano, actually, but I guess he's not here?" Antonio craned his neck as he looked past the older Italian into the dark room.
Lovino pushed himself from the door frame to block the Spaniard's view, grimacing slightly when his stomach churned in protest. "He's not, so you can go."
Antonio sighed, looking down at the angry Italian and knitting his eyebrows at the pale, shaking boy. "Are you okay?" He asked, cocking his head to the side as he studied the boy's slightly quivering lip.
"Fine." Lovino growled through clenched teeth, he felt sweat forming on his brow as his gut flipped in a warning of impending mutiny. He gulped a few times, trying to calm his stomach with the cool air. He didn't want to be sick in front of that damn Spaniard, he had already revealed too much weakness to the man, but the memory of his mother's ghostly body falling through the air refused to exit his brain. It had been so long since he had dreamed about her, he wasn't prepared for it, physically or mentally, and he lacked the strength to push away the stagnant emotions it dredged up. Gagging, Lovino threw his hand to his mouth, throwing Antonio a wide-eyed stare before darting towards the bathroom. Dry heaves wracked painfully through his throat when he leaned over the toilet, he didn't remember the last time he had eaten, and his frustration only increased when he felt Antonio rub his back soothingly.
"Stop," he croaked out, angrily swatting the hand away as he sucked in air, willing his stomach to cease its useless activity.
"C-can I do something?" Antonio asked hesitantly when the Italian finally stopped his frantic retching. Lovino's cheeks heated when he realized the Spaniard was hovering above the back of his head, ready to intervene the moment he was needed. 'You can stop being so nice,' Lovino wanted to say, biting his lip when tears tried to push their way into his eyes. "You can go." He said instead, refusing to give in to his body's hedonistic need to be comforted.
"Do you want me to get Feliciano?" Antonio asked, his voice soft and sympathetic.
"No, just leave." Lovino clenched his eyes shut. He wanted to claw away his eyes, his ears, his nose, anything that reminded him of what a disgusting person he was. He wanted to be alone, so even if he couldn't leave himself, he could pretend that he had.
Antonio slumped back into the cold bathroom wall, "did you have a bad dream?" He teased lightly, not noticing the way the Italian's shoulders stiffened from his observation.
'How can someone be so fucking oblivious, yet so perceptive,' Lovino thought to himself dryly as he wiped his mouth on the inside of his wrist. "Leave, I said." He reiterated, choosing to ignore the question.
Antonio stayed silent for a while, "You know I can't, Feliciano would kill me." He said finally.
Lovino bit the inside of his lip, he didn't want to deal with this right now. "He won't know, I'll be asleep by the time he gets back."
Antonio sighed and leaned forward to softly grip the Italian's shoulder, "leave." Lovino said again, shrugging off the Spaniard's grasp.
Antonio let his hand hover in the air over the boy's back before finally letting it drop to his side and shuffling to his feet. "Are you sure?" He asked hesitantly as he clamored to the sink and squeaked on the faucet.
"Leave." Lovino replied, his body clinging to the word as if it were the only thing keeping him afloat. He gasped and snapped his eyes open when a cold glass was pressed against his inflamed cheek.
"Here, drink." Antonio said simply, easing the cup into the Italian's shaking fingers.
"Leave." Lovino said again, taking a small sip of water to placate the Spaniard.
Antonio nodded knowingly and started to head to the door, "take care of yourself," he said softly as he hovered in the bathroom doorway. "Hey Lovi," He called louder, turning his head over his shoulder to regard the hunched boy.
"What?" Lovino growled, wishing he would stop lingering.
"See you tomorrow." The Spaniard grinned pleasantly, continuing his trek to the door as shivers raced up the Italian's back.
"Fuck you," Lovino yelled after his retreating figure.