Somewhere, The Cloverfield, Liquid Mountains, whole playlist.

I know what the opening lines are for I just don't know why I inconsistently started doing them on the 9th chapter. I think it's 'cause their parents' situation wasn't explained until 8.

Or something.

It's a first draft AHAHAHA.

The Gay Brother

Anger and Tomato Sauce

That cabinet had not been made of glass.

Just the doors.

And the shelves.

And everything inside.

Feliciano had rented a convertible, but Lovino actually owned a truck. It wasn't a classy way to get around but the machine rumbled down the quiet road around town to take the long-way back to the house. The younger brother didn't ask why they were detouring, he just let Lovino quietly drive and try to settle his thoughts.

Finally, he just couldn't take it anymore:

"What did grandpa say to you?"

Lovino didn't want to talk.

"He was mad." Well, Feliciano could have guessed that. He watched Lovino rub his upper lip with one finger and tried to focus out through the windshield instead. "He said I should have asked his permission before inviting you down."

"Would he have given it?"

"No." That hurt, but he figured he was just being too sensitive… "But you're not staying with him, so why should I have to ask? He doesn't run the fucking town." There was a sudden break in Lovino's voice and he occupied himself with checking for traffic on the dark, abandoned lane. They had to stop having these conversations while his brother was trying to drive.

"Spit it out." No more suspense, please? It had been a long day.

"He doesn't run the restaurant anymore either." Oh…

"He isn't okay with me working there, is he?" He probably didn't want Feliciano stepping foot in the establishment… "Don't make him mad, Lovino, it's not worth it."

"The fuck do you mean 'not worth it'?" He meant- "I can take his shit for a week, Feli, it's not as bad as you think." Well Lovino sure knew how to make it sound bad. "Chichi keeps bitching at me about the same things. It's annoying, but I'm going up to Rieti for most of tomorrow anyways so I won't have to keep hearing about it."

"Business?" Did he want Feliciano to come? He wasn't sure how useful he'd be, but if Lovino's wife wanted him gone as badly as their grandfather did then he'd welcome the distance. "If it's easier to keep me out of the restaurant then I won't-"

"Shut up: you're going to work the afternoon service and end at four when things slow down. Today got hectic when that tour-bus showed up, otherwise I would have kicked your ass out sooner."

"Tour-bus?" He hadn't even noticed something like that, the kitchen had been busy the whole time he was back there. "Is that why you have three cooks now instead of just two?"

"Yes." Rude. "And we keep getting more German and Austrian tourists too, so wash that onion stench off your hands tonight so you can deal with them tomorrow." Front of house then.

"So you're just going to keep moving me around until I go home?" He said it with a smile because he was sick of being nervous and unsettled. Today had lasted far too long and he just wanted to be at ease.

"Unless you want to spend the rest of the week slicing tomatoes, then yes." Fair enough, he wasn't mad about it. It was better they give him unskilled work like he'd done today, or put him out with customers, than expect him to cook. He'd never been into preparing things at the restaurant's fast pace. "And before you ask about him: it's up to you."

"Ve?" They were coming up to the house now, but Lovino kept the conversation going as they passed into the courtyard.

"Carlino." What about him? The truck rumbled to a stop and his brother cranked up on the parking brake to keep the vehicle from moving before looking at him directly. "If you want to tell him, then it's up to you. I've wanted to but if he had any questions I wouldn't know what the fuck to say except give him your boyfriend's stupid resume." Uh- that really wasn't what he'd expected.

"You'd really be alright if I told him?" Secret-keeping seemed to be the family's preferred coping method, but Feliciano just watched Lovino shut off the engine and slump back in his seat, keys still dangling in the ignition.

"He's not sixteen anymore." Lovino was treating the topic like it weighed ten pounds around his neck, but maybe it did. "He's got his own money now. He's almost twenty and if he told me next month he wanted to go track you down in Berlin it's not like I could actually stop him. I thought he was gonna hit me when I told him he couldn't come with me last week to see you."

"You're kidding." That didn't sound like their brother at all. "He'd never do something like that- why are you making that face again?"

That face: when Lovino's green eyes slipped out of focus and he just stared at the dashboard and the house lights shining through the windshield. That weight around his neck moved like a hood to shadow his face, making the corners of his mouth sink down and his body slump further back like he'd given up trying to hold himself straight.

"He's still mad, Feli." Why did he have to say that so quietly?

"About Mama? That wasn't his fault." Carlino had been sixteen: it had been night time, raining, it was no one's fault. But Lovino shook his head and looked at him again.

"No. About you: she died and a week later we were telling him you'd never come home again." His brother put things bluntly and Feliciano just had to sit there and take it, because it was true. "He knows he's supposed to hate you but Grandpa's story is weak and I can't fucking explain it either. He doesn't get why you were run out of town the way Papa was, or how we could do that and then turn around and forgive him at the same time." Just saying it out loud pushed Lovino to close his eyes and rub them with one hand, pinching his nose hard before sitting up in front of the wheel so he could lay his head back on the headrest behind him. "He's still so mad."

"I'll talk to him." Or at least he'd try. Feliciano couldn't remember too many times in the past where Lovino had needed him to bridge the gap between him and their youngest brother. Only little things came to mind: broken toys or spilled paint, not important things. Not emotional things. "And you'll be in Rieti all day tomorrow, right?"

"I should be back in the evening. I'm not spending the night." Well, of course he wouldn't, but whatever. "But you need to go eat some fucking dinner, and I have to get back to my restaurant."

They said good night to each other and Feliciano climbed out of the truck. He had to promise again to talk to their little brother before Lovino seemed satisfied enough to let him traverse the long, dangerous path to the door. Ooh, so spooky!

But once he heard the engine start up and carry his brother away, it was a bit harder to take things so lightly. He hadn't seen the other three members of Lovino's household all day, not even that morning when he'd slipped out before breakfast, so being alone in the house now with most of the lights off was a bit scarier than he'd otherwise want to admit. He knew how he'd handle Chiara though, so as he padded quietly from the entry way and across the living room to find the kitchen light still on, he really, really hoped it would be his sister-in-law.

If it was her mother then he'd run away, even if he could smell the sharp aroma of tomato sauce and hear the low rumble of a boiling pot. It was late for someone to be up cooking, but maybe-

"Oh-"

"Uh?"

Shit.

He knew he should run but Feliciano's legs decided against moving, just like how a sudden rush of anxiety not only stunned his chest but then gave him a firm knock to the head to scatter his thoughts. His fight-or-flight instincts were tied up in a knot, and at least seven seconds of painful, staunch silence passed before the woman standing by the stove spoke first.

"Are you hungry?" Alice's brown eyes were supposed to be lighter than his, more of a light hazel really. She dropped them back to the pans sitting on the stove top and started stirring the heavily spiced sauce simmering in one of them. The motion was fast and caused the red to dribble over the lip of the pan by accident.

"Sorry." He wanted the word back because he wasn't sure if he meant 'I'm sorry for barging in' or 'I'm sorry for staying in your house' or 'I'm sorry for everything that happened that you shouldn't forgive me for'. The fact that she didn't even look back at him to ask which one it was didn't help him figure out something better to say. "I mean- I can go wash up instead."

"It's just left-overs." He was over-reacting then, he had to be. That she wasn't happy to see him was obvious, but the way she just turned off both burners with a snap and shifted the sauce off the heat didn't give off the same threatening vibe as when her sister said 'hello' to him. When she reached over to take the stock-pot off the stove and strain the pasta inside, Feliciano finally woke up and stepped forward.

"Let me do it."

"It's not heavy-"

"Please?" And then he stopped walking because she stopped moving and looked at him. Her face was longer than her sister's, dusted with sunspots over her straight nose and the curves of her cheeks from days spent outside. Her hair was much lighter than Chiara's though, more like brandy or another smooth, golden liqueur. She'd been going all day and he could see it: she had most of her hair tied up in a mess behind her head, and if she'd worn any make-up while she was out then she'd already scrubbed it off. Her forehead had that shine to it that just came from being busy, and he couldn't remember the last time he'd seen her dressed in a track suit- this one was grey with pink racing stripes running down the pants and patterned over the shoulders.

She had her fingers curled around the stainless-steel handles of the pot, but while he was busy looking at her she was dealing it back just as good. When she finally pulled her hands away she gave a soft huff from her nose, and then took a step to move around him.

"You smell like onions."

"Um, thank you?" He deserved a smack for making a joke, but she was already past him and he thought he heard another huff- the kind a person like her made when she didn't want to laugh. Right or wrong it made it easier for Feliciano to lift the pot up and carry it to the sink where a colander was already waiting to catch the pasta. "Is there a reason you're cooking this late?"

"Chichi and my mother already went to bed, I just got home."

"Were you at work?" No, he thought better of the question too late to take it back, but he had always thought she'd decided to work with Chiara with the winery? He focused on not splashing himself with the hot water as he let the yellow noodles collect in the steel colander, enjoying the sweet smell of the steam as a cloud of it billowed up just past his face.

"I was dancing." He heard plates cutting against each other as he set the pot down on the counter and gingerly handled the colander, shaking off a bit more of the water before the ring of cutlery made him look around over his shoulder. Alice wasn't looking at him, she was busy setting a pair of forks down next to two shallow bowls on the island in the middle of the kitchen. Somehow he had it in him to agree with her: if they were going to eat together, then it would be nicer to stand in the bright kitchen than sit awkwardly in the dim glow of the dining room. Something about the white florescent light and pale rose colour on the walls made this a more inviting space to stay in, even with the lack of seating.

"At the same place?" He asked, satisfied with the way the pasta looked and bringing it over for her to portion it out onto the two plates, the re-heated sauce was sitting in its pan with an oven mitt underneath to keep it from scoring the black stone countertop. He could see the big chunks of zucchini and tomato clumped together and wrapped in herbs, all of it cooked and simmered down until the sharp flavours began to mellow and meld together: much better than any store-bought sauce.

"Mm. We have a production coming up at the end of next month, so there was practice tonight." It was easier to talk about her than to talk about him. When Alice was finished spooning her dinner into the shallow depth of her bowl, Feliciano carefully took the rest of it. He was too hungry for flavour and just wracked his memory for the name of the dance studio in Rieti that his ex-fiancé had lived and breathed for since as long as he could remember. He could see the building in his mind, but the name eluded him after such a long day.

"Do you work for them now?" She must have had her own car if she was willing to drive back and forth from the larger town. They both ate in silence for a few more moments, the full taste of the tomatoes and spices waking him up as much as the warmth and weight of the meal was starting to put Feliciano to sleep. If he hadn't been standing on the opposite side of the island from her, he might have been in danger of just nodding off.

"No, no I manage things here." Alice dropped her voice and her fork just spun a few times in her plate, chasing one stubborn piece of pasta across the river of red before giving up on it and lancing a piece of zucchini instead. "Two years for Marketing." He... remembered when they'd talked about that actually, years ago: one partner trained in Germany for finance and business development, the other trained locally in advertising and marketing... "The money's better."

It was Feliciano's turn to pretend he didn't know how to use a fork. His stomach couldn't convince his hand that he wanted that last chunk of home-made sauce, and his mouth didn't feel like obliging his hunger either. Art History.

"Lovino's been raving about how well the winery's doing." He tried, but the words fell flat.

"Mm." Things were beginning to stall again, he could feel it and with a dry tongue and guilty mind Feliciano couldn't find the words to fix it. He almost spouted 'I'm sorry' again before he stopped himself from making things even more awkward than before.

"Will you be taking a few bottles back with you?" She asked, stepping away from the counter and her plate. There was a large wine-rack on the wall behind her, but Alice pulled a pair of straight glasses out of a nearby cupboard and ran the kitchen tap instead. "You'd like last year's red- if you still prefer dry wines."

"I do. And I have friends who'd probably want to try a few different kinds." Maybe the word Feliciano wasn't 'stall' so much as it was 'turn'. The conversation was turning, and when Alice came back and offered one of the water glasses to him, Feliciano felt a lot like one of those politicians on television. He made himself only sip the cold water, trying to figure out what kind of signal she was sending when she drained half of hers with a few deep gulps.

He was over-analyzing things aga-

"Is your wife one of them?" The way the thick bottom of her glass hit the granite said almost as much as how fast she said the words. Feliciano was not over-analyzing anything, especially not when he could feel his heart beginning to drum against his ribs and the nervous heat flooding his throat and chest.

He caught himself staring at the way the pink stripe down her side buckled and folded down the curve of her waist and blinked. His gaze made it to her shoulder this time and then slid past her like water off an oiled canvas. Feliciano's eyes were on the bottle necks stacked behind her, the winery's gold crest twinkling at him a dozen times over as he lifted his water and took another small sip.

"I'm not married." His throat was thick now and his mouth felt no better. He could have just said something like 'I'm the wine-drinker' instead, or commented about the household in general, but it didn't work. He wasn't going to step around the issue quite so boldly.

"Why not?" Funny: it was the same question he'd asked Lovino when he'd heard the same thing about her.

"It just didn't work out that way." Another drink of water, and although he couldn't force himself to look at her he still saw the way her shoulders came up and then pulled back. He was almost certain he saw her twirling her fork again in one hand, but he just let the white light hit the gold foil behind her and let that hold his gaze instead.

"And your... I guess son or-?"

"I'm not a father either." Again he lifted the cold edge of the glass to his lips, but this time he let himself drink almost all of it. He closed his eyes so he wouldn't be tempted to look at her through the warped glass at the bottom as he tilted his head back, letting it fall forward when he was done and picking up his dishes without making eye-contact.

"What happened to them?"

"Nothing." He took the dishes and the sauce pan and turned around to bring them to the sink. Somehow it was easier to get the words going with hot water running over his hands.

This was supposed to be a Sodom and Gommorah story, right? Which of the two kinds of sin was worse: the one where you were so overcome by lust that you'd reach out to another man, or the one where you were so devoid of grace that you'd throw your own children to the mob to save your soul?

He didn't mean to, but he thought of his grandfather and squirted too much soap into the sponge in his hand for scrubbing. What did it matter which way he chose if God had destroyed both cities in the end?

"There was no baby." She'd done the cooking so he did the cleaning, it only made sense in his mind. He'd spent all day chopping vegetables and washing plates and pans, but Feliciano almost resented how easily the red washed away just with the hot water, nevermind the suds he scrubbed across the stainless steel surface. Tomato sauce wasn't half a sticky as burnt caramel, but that thought just wound him up a little tighter. "But I don't want to lie to you, Alice, and I don't want to embarrass Lovino and everyone else when things are going just fine here without me. It's better not to talk about it."

"What's her name?" Of all the questions he couldn't answer… but what had he just said? He was convinced he heard footsteps and knew she was walking towards him, so bent himself to his task instead of turning around. Her voice was closer when she spoke again: "You told me there was someone else when you asked me to take my ring off, so at least tell me her name."

"Alice-" He rinsed the pan under the hot stream, and just as he was setting it in the rack next to him to dry her hand appeared and shut off the tap. His first reaction was to look and that was wrong, because as soon as he saw wide eyes framed by hurt and blushing with anger, he began to hate himself.

"You left me." He had, but- "You left me the day after your mother's funeral- the day after I stood next to you and held your hand while your whole family was there around us! Don't try and tell me you don't owe me an explanation if you're going to show up here and sleep in my mother's house."

"We have three dogs." Feliciano didn't know why that was the first thing that came out of his mouth, but he said it and she looked so angry at the deflection that- "We can't have children, and in Germany we can't adopt or foster either, so we keep pets." There was Blackie the German Shepherd not-a-puppy-anymore that Ludwig had talked him into getting for protection right after they'd bought the house. And there was Astor the tired old Golden Retriever whose abusive story and sad eyes from a kennel had broken Feliciano's heart until Ludwig agreed to take him. He still wasn't sure if the Doberman Berlitz had been Ludwig's idea or Gilbert's, but that wasn't here or there right now.

"We own a house in Berlin and we drive two cars. My partner is an engineer who makes more money than I do and that covers the cost of the older brother I put up with in our basement." He couldn't lie about his life, because whether Lovino or his grandfather wanted him to or not it was his life. "The brother is a Veteran, and he's an asshole but they look out for each other." Where on earth was he supposed to go with this?

Her face told him she didn't know any more than he did. Alice had her bottom lip pulled part way between her teeth, her chin crumpled as a tiny spasm twitched the corners of her mouth and made her lips tighten and twitch. Her eyes were staring straight through him and refused to blink. She looked like she was stooping slightly, as if his words weighed too much for her to hear and yet she just stayed there like she was waiting for more. He kept his damp hands on the edge of the sink and watched her, holding his breath when she finally pulled her lips apart to speak.

"So you love her." Alice's voice was quiet, and he realized now how strange that sounded because she was supposed to be the loudest of the four of them. "And you love her more than you loved me-" Something crossed her mind and it moved like a shadow over her face, her forehead wrinkling like her chin as she took a short, sharp breath in and folded her arms tight in under her chest.

"Did..." She looked cold, and hurt, and he hated the way his gut started hurting when she looked up at him again and actually saw him standing there. "Did you even love me?"

"Alice-!" Of course he had, of course he'd wanted that life with her. "Please don't think things like that." Nevermind say them. He didn't know if she'd let him do it, but with his hands mostly dry Feliciano reached out and placed his hands on her shoulders as Alice dropped her eyes again, bowing her head so she was looking at the floor as he spoke over her. "I never wanted to hurt anyone with this. Everything came out the wrong way at the wrong time, especially the things I said to you and I-"

"Then tell me her name." Her voice broke on the last word and his died in the space between them. He felt the way she tensed up and then the tension snapped like a rubber band: she was crying and he felt like something had just carved out his insides and left him hollow. It should have hurt more than it did when his hands slowly slipped off her shoulders, but she shook him off and he took the numbness as a sign that he wasn't allowed to pity himself.

They just stood there like that in cold silence as she cupped her hands over her face, shaking and fighting for breath behind her palms. Feliciano made the mistake of trying to reach out and touch her again, but Alice's head snapped up and she pulled her hands down, taking two bold steps away from him with heat rising in her wet eyes and the painful flush of her cheeks.

"Don't you dare say you're sorry." She hissed, and he took it. "It was bad enough to be humiliated because you didn't have the decency to tell me before setting up your whole new life with her, but if you think secrets are somehow better then lies then-" She choked on tears and he saw how mad it made her to break off, her hands flying up and scratching away the wet tracks with her sleeves. "Then you're no better than your lying brother."

"What?" Lovino? Or did she mean Carlino he- what did they have to do with-?

"At least he tells a story when he wants to cover the truth!" She covered her shout with the back of one hand, looking away from him with those tears still in her eyes. His gaze followed hers out of the kitchen and into the darkness towards the main staircase. No lights flickered on from upstairs, but that only meant she didn't want her mother or sister to come down to investigate any screaming.

"Alice-" He tried again, because he didn't know what that comment meant or why she'd say something like that out of the blue. But when he took a step towards her with one hand out asking for peace, she backed up again and then turned to storm out of the light.

"I'm going to bed."

"Wait, I-"

"Leave me alone!" She all but leapt away from him, vanishing into the dark shadows of a house she knew well enough to sprint through and find the stairs without hitting anything. Feliciano heard her feet pound the steps and knew she was gone for the night, abandoning him to his guilt and no small amount of confusion from the last things she'd said.

He waited just long enough to listen in case she slammed a door on the upper level, and when no sound came drifting down then he, too, made himself go off to bed.

PLOT PLOT PLOT AFOOT! Remaining typos and funny-duddy places will be edited out tomorrow probably.

Most of this was written in Zen Writer, which is an interesting program. Check it out if you're easily distracted, my only comment is that I really wish the "day" setting had a darker font, and saving makes me really really uncomfortable.