Utopia, Good Life, What's My Name, Hands held High, The Prayer, Memories, Stupid in Love, The Hanging Tree.

I'm stiiiiill working on Recovery so if you read both this story and that one, don't fret too much, I just decided I was better off spending my first day off in two weeks polishing off this chapter than fighting with the middle bulk of Recovery.

Note: When I was planning this story the girls' names were "Valenti", and I only changed it to "Vanteli" because a tumblr friend suggested it. This is why both versions have shown up in this fic, because my hands would get confused. I've finally gone through the story and changed it to "Valenti" again, so the other name should be gone within the next 40 minutes (upload time). Never change a name you like!

The Gay Brother

Cinnamon and the Old Dock

Lovino left early the next morning just like he'd said, but at least he had the decency to tell Feliciano and hang around long enough for the two of them to share a quiet cup of coffee.

"Why haven't you told Chiara about me?" It wasn't the only question Feliciano really wanted to ask him, but it seemed like the only one his brother would be able, or at least willing, to answer. He didn't want advice as he sipped the hot brew in his cup, he just wanted try and figure out what he was dealing with.

"And do what? Tell her not to tell her mother or sister?" The way Lovino kept his voice down and seemed keen to hurry up and go before his wife came downstairs was troubling, but he knew better than to ask Lovino if Alice had any reason to refer to him as a liar. "Alice is one thing, but..."

Lovino finished his coffee with a gulp that probably, judging by the sound he made, burnt his throat, but Feliciano finished the thought himself: Mrs. Valenti was a gossip. And she hated him. Those two things combined would see to it that the whole town knew what kind of person he was by the end of the week, maybe sooner if she believed anyone thought the whole affair and break-down years ago had been Alice's fault.

It didn't matter how old-fashioned the thought was, it was just important for a mother to know why her daughter had been engaged for so long and then suddenly dumped.

"It's not like I left her at the altar." Feliciano grumbled, telling himself he wasn't bitter about being in the middle of so much stupid talk.

"No, but they think you left her for some German girl." Mm... "Foreign women aren't all bad though."

"You're only saying that because you would have preferred it to the truth." Damn his own ability to smile at himself, but he couldn't help it, especially not when Lovino quickly held up a hand to stop him.

"Before you say it, let me guess: in some other dimension we're probably sitting here right now saying 'this would be so much easier if you were just-'"

"For someone who doesn't want his wife to know," Feliciano interrupted, still smiling "you're pretty comfortable saying it when she's just upstairs."

"Shut up."

Lovino left shortly after that, but his brother was probably still just pulling out through the gate when Feliciano turned around in the kitchen because he heard a soft voice behind him.

"I wanted to apologize for last night..." Alice looked tired. She wouldn't lift her eyes to look at him properly either, and that was why when he understood what she'd said, he stopped what he'd been doing at the sink and mirrored her by looking at the floor.

"I don't think that's really necessary."

"But I do." Feliciano looked up again when he heard her take a step forward, and although she wasn't much closer than she'd been a moment before, at least Alice was looking at him now, morning sunlight patterned over the white cotton skirt around her waist and the blue blouse wrapped over her shoulders. She had that determined look about her that he hadn't really seen last night: that stubborn line holding her jaw up while she made herself stand straight and not back down. She'd always been bold in the best kind of way. "You were wrong last night: things aren't 'going just fine' here. If they were then maybe I shouldn't have been so short with you, but it's just not true."

"Why did you call my brother a liar?" And which brother had she even meant? He wanted to throw that part on too but the way Alice looked away again and bit her lip kept him quiet. One step at a time would work out better for both of them.

"It's better not to talk about it behind their backs..." Feliciano found himself holding his breath in order to keep quiet. Even if she could somehow believe something like that, he certainly didn't. Not talking about things wasn't how either of their families worked. Maybe they weren't as direct as they should have been, but- "So again: I'm sorry."

"You're sorry but you won't-" He shut himself up because it all clicked just that fast for him: she was sorry but wouldn't tell him what she'd done. It would have been hypocritical for Feliciano to push. They'd just wind up in the same argument they'd had last night except with the roles reversed. And he wasn't stupid enough to push her when Alice still had the better argument: he wouldn't even give her Ludwig's name. "We won't talk about it then, it's okay."

Maybe trading secrets would make the next few days easier. Or maybe trading secrets was the wrong way to describe it: admitting that they both had secrets was much wordier, but felt better. If they both had something to hide then neither one would try bridging the gap between them, they could just walk around the chasm instead of struggling to reach across.

"Lovino's gone for the day, are you still going down to the restaurant?" Of course, but he had to meet with Carlino first. "Are you staying for breakfast?" Did she really think Chiara would want him to do that? "I guess not."

She smiled. She laughed too but it was too short, too brief to really sink in and resonate with his memories. But she smiled and it made her face change again, brought a spark of sunshine to her eyes as her lashes fanned and wove themselves together to try and hide that glow. The dimples he'd maybe forgotten about showed themselves as she looked askance with her smile to hide it, and they were what proved it was genuine: when she faked a smile, Alice's cheeks were always tight and hollow. When it was real, an angel pinched them so you could see it.

"I'll try and tell her not to be so hard on you."

"Ah- please don't bother her on my behalf." It was close to what he'd said last night to his brother. "I can handle it for a few more days, really. I'm just happy you're willing to talk to me."

He didn't like the way her smile suddenly faltered when he said that, swallowing hard trying to figure out what he'd done to make the full curves of her face thin out slightly. It made him feel suddenly put on the spot, like he had to answer for something he hadn't known he'd done wrong. Maybe she wasn't quite as happy to talk to him as he'd almost believed.

"I, uh- I should get going."

"Mm. Don't work yourself too hard." Right...

Leaving the house behind was just as relieving, if not moreso than the day before. Lovino had apparently given Carlino the same stern talking-to about having to talk to him, so he knew where to meet his little brother and what time he needed to get there. Feliciano could easily have walked anywhere in the village to meet him, but chose to drive instead- why else had he rented the white, slightly dinged and beaten convertable? To look at it?

He had just enough time between sneaking out past Lovino's wife and going down to the riverbank to find breakfast. He went to the deli that had intimidated and frightened him away yesterday, somehow energized by the fact that his grandparents, and therefore most of their neighbours, knew that he was back and clearly deemed unwelcome. Feliciano wasn't bold enough to traipse around the piazza in the middle of the village, but the deli on the hill? He could manage that.

It was almost worth it to go just to see the same shopkeeper whose shadow had nearly given him a heart attack yesterday. They shook hands, laughed about something, and Feliciano accepted a cigarette when it was offered, lighting two of them over the counter. There were laws, but... well, those were just rules and regulations on some paper somewhere, and once his lungs adjusted to the thick weight of the smoke Feliciano intentionally looked down. He blew grey down at his feet because he was a bold coward: God forbid he smoke when he had to go home at night to his partner, but when he was hundreds of miles away he liked the idea of making Ludwig squirm if he got back reeking of cigarettes.

There was nothing about the four little pies made with candied nuts and a lot of cinnamon that should have made him so bold. It was his childhood wrapped in pastry dough and one of the only ways he could even pretend to tolerate the spice, but it made his day brighten up and took away the bitterness of two bad run-ins with his ex.

But cinnamon. The spice was too thick and rough. Too hot on the back of his throat. Feliciano hated few things but that grainy, sandy residue of cinnamon on his tongue was probably one of them. With a small paper cup of espresso he finished the first cake himself like a guilty secret in the car and forced himself to drive and leave the rest alone. Like water running down a hillside, people and products always took the easiest path from the heights of the village down to the river.

In March it was already beginning to feel redundant to add that the heat was picking up. The sun flashed and blue sky looked on over red rooftops, the green trees yellowing under the gold light. Feliciano followed the ebb and curve of the streets, avoiding the piazza despite how far out of his way the detour took him. The stone neighbourhoods quickly faded into fruit groves and orchards on the east side of the village, and he just kept moving down and felt the temperature oblige him by slowly giving up its anger. Of course, for every point of heat the approaching river took away, it tossed in a friendly three for humidity.

The river running past their village was just a lazy arm of another, stronger flow through the mountains. It just swung out around their little town like an elbow to hold them close against the land. The car kept going until Feliciano pulled it down to drive along the grey-blue band of water, passing old groves and looking out across the river to fallow fields.

He knew exactly where he was going and found the turn by relying as much on memory as from the oft-vandalized wooden post that, in theory, was meant to hold a sign telling swimmers and fishermen which way to go to find the small dock nestled on the riverbank. Feliciano now knew from Lovino that shallow river-boats filled with tourists appeared there on occasion, but it was still too early in the season to expect them. And as for the fishermen, well, when was it not the season for fishing?

Turning at the post when it appeared, Feliciano pulled over and shut off the engine, quickly grabbing the paper bag holding the rest of breakfast as he stuffed the keys in his pocket and climbed out. He was parked under the shade of several tall trees, the thin copse hiding the dock as the gravel lane bent and twisted around out of sight.

He could smell the water as he walked over the gravel, listening to it crunch and crackle underfoot. Despite the humidity the air itself occasionally built up into a breeze to cool him, the moist smell of wet stones and thick reeds playing with childhood memories of racing his brothers down this path, along the wooden dock he could just see coming into view, and leaping off the far end into the cold water.

There were other swimming holes and calmer streams for a quick dunking, but the dock was where grandma could bring her knitting and their uncle could fish, or Mama would leave the three of them there with a packed lunch while she ran errands in the summer. Glancing to his left as he came out from under the trees, he saw the same old stone bench where they'd left shoes and towels, and the small patch of grass still as yellow and no doubt as prickly as he ever remembered.

Feliciano was just setting one foot down on the wooden planks of the dock when he heard fast

foot-falls behind him. When he turned to look, he watched a familiar someone come tearing down the path he'd just slowly walked, a grey sweater-jacket on over his brother's shoulders as Carlino slowed down just enough to scan and notice him, then continued jogging up to the dock.

"Hey, slow down," Feliciano laughed, walking back a few paces so they reached each other sooner. He brought one arm up and his brother stumbled to a stop before immediately giving him a hug. "You'll wear yourself out before work. Did you walk all the way here?"

"I ran," Carlino gasped, pulling back and setting his hands on his knees, bowing forward as he kept panting trying to catch his breath. "I'm late... sorry... mad grandpa..." Feliciano felt his smile hit the dock.

"If he didn't want you to come then you could have stayed home." He knew before he finished the thought that his brother wouldn't want to hear something like that, but Feliciano held out a hand to quiet him when Carlino's head snapped up. "I'm only here for a week and you live in his house. Don't do crazy things."

"It's not crazy to want to see you!" His brother's voice hit a high pitch and it made them both pause. As much as one small part of Feliciano suddenly jumped at the idea of teasing him for the sound, it was overwhelmed by the way his brother was too old for silly voice-breaks, and just how hurt he already looked. "You're my brother, it's not stupid..."

"Stupid and crazy are two different things." Feliciano tapped his brother's shoulder until Carlino stood up again properly, pulling him into another hug and making sure this one was more than just a quick hello. It was still strange to think of his little brother as someone just as tall as he was, but it hurt too when he felt Carlino drop his face against his shoulder and stay like that, hiding and pulling comfort the way he had when he was small.

"Cheer up, it's alright." He murmured, brushing a hand through his brother's light auburn hair, the colour they normally shared but that the Italian sun had slowly bleached. "Did you eat breakfast before coming here?"

"No..."

"Then you're in luck." Clapping Carlino on the back, he made them pull apart before Feliciano turned and walked him down the dock. The whole structure clunked and shifted worryingly underfoot, but it had done that since they were kids. Feliciano shook the paper bag he was still holding and flashed a smile before he handed it over. The next order of business was sitting down and pulling off his shoes and socks quickly so he could let his feet hang over the edge of the platform and dip into the cold water. "I know you guys can have these any time you want, but it's been years..."

"There're only three in here."

"I had one in the car, please forgive me?" His plea finally convinced the younger man to smile and sit down next to him, Carlino pulling one of the treats out and nibbling on the corner. When he handed the bag back Feliciano didn't even hesitate before taking a big bite out of his second one.

"I'll never get it," Carlino complained, speaking around pastry flakes and sweet nuts. "You hate cinnamon."

"This isn't cinnamon, it's sugar that looks like cinnamon."

"And tastes like it, and smells like-"

"Do you want to go swimming this morning? I think it sounds like you do." He gave his brother a heavy smack on the shoulder so he knew exactly what Feliciano meant, and the childish glare he got back was plenty worth it. Because yes: he would push his little brother into the river if provoked. It was a right Lovino had lorded over both of them as children and Feliciano was always happy to exploit the 'I can because I'm older/Not my fault because I'm younger' argument whenever possible.

Lovino always got to stay up late and sit in the front seat. Carlino always got the last slice of cake and the biggest Christmas gift. So Feliciano never got in trouble for anything: it felt fair to him.

"...It's been years since you left home." It took him a moment before he really heard that murmur over the quiet splash of the water against the dock. "Why does everyone hate you?" Feliciano wasn't quite ready for the question, but he supposed that was his fault for misreading the steady silence. The sweetness in his mouth quickly became overwhelming, and for a moment he looked down at the river water and wondered if it was clean enough to drink. His toes were barely skimming the surface though, so he just made himself sit there, chew, and quickly swallowed.

Feliciano looked up at the sky instead of answering and took a deep breath, leaning one way and then the other on how to begin.

"I can't defend you if I don't know what you did." If that was Carlino's stance then actually that made things easier for him. "It's really hard."

"There's nothing to defend, really." From several hundred miles away Feliciano almost swore he felt Ludwig breathing angrily down his neck, but he gave himself a shake and blamed it on the damp air wrapped around them. He stared down at the dark water below the dock and shrugged, part of his breakfast flaking off into the steady current. "I learned a lot of things about myself when I went away to Germany, but instead of fighting off and running away from a lot of it, I just embraced it instead."

"What, like drugs or something?" Would a drug analogy work here? Feliciano started squinting across the water to where the sun was hitting the surface, rejecting the idea: if he kept chaffing against the knocked-up girlfriend story then what would make drug addiction a better cover?

"It's analogous, but it isn't drugs, no." This conversation wasn't going how he'd hoped, but he hadn't really planned what he was going to say either. Stupid Lovino, setting this up without giving him any time to prepare!

"Analogous?"

"I did cheat on Alice." And that... saying those words did leave a very bitter taste in his mouth. Feliciano hated admitting it, hated branding himself an adulterer or a cheater when it felt so wrong to mark himself like that. "We were engaged and I became involved with someone else while I was away. I mean, we'd been apart for a long time, but we were still engaged..." He'd proposed, he'd bought a ring, he'd given the ring to her and asked her to wear it.

"Was Alice at the funeral?" Feliciano picked his gaze up out of the water and looked at his brother again. Carlino had a vacant look on his face, elbows on his knees and doubled over almost the same way Feliciano was. But to answer his question: yes, she'd been there. Dressed in black with a diamond ring on her finger...

"I broke the engagement after that, at the house." He meant their grandparents' house, the place where their whole family had lived together before Feliciano had gone to college and Lovino had moved out to live with his wife. He was almost positive their uncles still lived there to this day.

"Because you had a fight with her mother, right?" He couldn't even remember who he'd yelled at, couldn't think anymore about who had made him so mad about saying awful things about a wedding right after a funeral. "There was a lot of yelling, I could hear it upstairs."

"The yelling was after." Breathing the words out slowly, he closed his eyes and rubbed one hand back and forth over his forehead. They were skirting the issue but Feliciano couldn't help but hope that they'd circle back around to it. The very thought of mentioning 'him' or 'he' or 'gay' or any other words that would help things click was starting to make him sweat. He'd only done this once before and now they were talking about just how badly that had gone. "You were asleep."

"No, Lovino and I were talking upstairs- you were there too but then you left because Mrs. Valenti had something to say." Then Feliciano'd argued with her- had it really been Alice's mother? He remembered it so differently because he couldn't remember it at all. He'd gone downstairs after that, found Alice, and told her to take the ring off...

"I said I'd explain things the day after," he murmured, trying to tell himself he really couldn't remember, but he did. "And Lovino came down after their family left- you weren't asleep?"

They looked at each other as Carlino straightened up, shaking his head no and dragging a hand back through his hair. He had his legs dangling the way Feliciano's were and pulled them up, scooting back so he could lay down on the hard, dusty planks with his hands behind his head. Getting dirty wasn't appealing, and neither was laying down, so Feliciano just pulled his feet up so they would dry after being doused in the cold river water. He didn't mind the chill in them as he pulled his socks back on slowly.

"I was being stupid." Carlino... "I wanted you both there, or did you forget?" That casual pose on his back was misleading because those last four words came out sharply. Feliciano didn't like the nervous twinge that hit him when he realized how roughly his brother was breathing. "I bet you did forget, you didn't even come back upstairs. I didn't see you again after that."

"I didn't mean to-"

"From Mama's funeral until you came down the hill in that car with Lovino: that's how long I've had to wait to see you again." No, please don't let things turn out like this- he couldn't handle this kind of anger again. "So what the hell happened?" His brother sat up quickly and Feliciano froze with his fingers wound around his shoe-laces.

"I-"

"Why did you leave?" He- Carlino's eyes flashed once when he balked at the question, and he watched the younger man clench his teeth. "It wasn't even worth it to tell me- you didn't even bother packing because your suitcase was still in my room after you were gone!"

They both stood up and Feliciano wasn't taller anymore, they were right at eye level and he could feel his lungs burning, his ears ringing because it was happening again. He was going to say it and there was going to be screaming and shouting all over again.

"What? So I killed our mother and I wasn't even worth telling off for-" Their mother was dead and just by envoking her Feliciano's focus snapped.

"For God's sake, Carlino you were sixteen it wasn't your fault!" How anyone let him get away with still saying something like that was beyond him.

"The car went right over the guard-rail!"

"In the rain! At night!" On a bad stretch of road that she shouldn't have made him drive. "So thank God one of you actually survived it!" Feliciano could have gone further but he didn't, he just walked right up to Carlino where there were tears slowly overwhelming his green eyes. He took his brother's face between both hands and brushed his thumbs under those eyes, catching the drops as they started to fall free. When he leaned in Feliciano moved his hands and wrapped him up tight in another hug, closing his eyes when he felt his brother crumble a little and completely fall against him with both hands clutching his back.

"It wasn't because of you," he hushed, squeezing tighter when he heard a weak, angry sob hiccup against his shoulder. "I didn't leave because of you, and I didn't fail to say goodbye because I was angry, and I didn't stay away because of anything you did or said." Now, he could do it now: "I didn't forget, Carlino," breathe, "I'm-"

"Then why were you gonna hurt me?" Ga-haa-what?

"What?" Everything got very loud all of a sudden. Feliciano opened his eyes and he could hear the water lapping at the dock, the boards shifting under their feet as a bird trilled somewhere high in the treetops. His little brother was very, very warm in his arms, breaths wheezing from his lungs as he pressed his face a little closer against Feliciano's shoulder. He felt stuck like that too, arms clasped around Carlino and tucked under his shoulders to hold him tight, but the embrace suddenly lacked intimacy.

"It's what they said!"

"Who said?" And why? Why? "I'd never hurt you, you know that."

"I know! And they wouldn't tell me anything-" Who? "Everybody!"

That didn't make any sense. Of all the things to think about right after he'd left home for the last time, worrying that Feliciano'd turn around and hit his little brother for no reason was bizarre.

"Talk to me." He rubbed one hand up and down Carlino's back, letting him tuck his face further down against Feliciano's neck.

"Uncle Mario started it." Okay, but what had happened? "He just came storming in that night and pulled my shirt off," that was... "everyone was yelling at Lovino for leaving me alone with you, Grandma was crying about a doctor, and-" wait.

"Wait." No.

Feliciano dropped the hug and grabbed his brother's arms, he didn't push him off, but that was only because the younger one suddenly clung to him. He found himself staring down at the boards below their feet, eyes travelling slow and half-blind to the shore where the stone bench sat and the yellow grass grew.

"You were sixteen..." He whispered, forcing his thoughts to grind themselves to a halt. That couldn't be what this was.

"Feliciano?"

"You were only sixteen." Definitely not a child but not much of a man either, at that age. Carlino had been ordered to stay in bed after the accident and had only left the house for their mother's funeral, nothing else. Stitches along his scalp over his left ear, one arm in a brace after snapping his collar bone, if it had been Carlino's leg instead of his arm then he might not have made it back up to the road where a passing driver had seen him and stopped...

Feliciano hugged him again just thinking about it, scaring himself when he thought about just how close their family really had come to losing a grandson along with a daughter in one night.

But Carlino hadn't been a child and he hadn't been a man, he'd still been just a boy. The youngest brother had been so scared and upset that the elder two had agreed, without even questioning it, to share the bed with him like when they'd all been little. They'd slept right next to each other in their old room with Lovino complaining that the bed was too small and Feliciano fussing about not having enough blankets. The youngest sibling had stayed sandwiched between the two of them where he could be warm and feel safe, healing slowly and trying to forget that cold night in the rain.

It had been two men and a boy in one bed. But, if at any point Lovino had needed to leave for something, then it had only been one boy and one-

"...Are you crying?"

"No..." They wouldn't think something like that about him. They wouldn't go that far. "No I'm-" Feliciano couldn't see anymore because he'd pinched his eyes shut, squeezing them tight and holding his brother like he was the one about to fall over now. His throat felt thick and heavy, his lungs sore when he realized he didn't trust himself to take a deep breath. He couldn't calm down and he couldn't make himself stop thinking. There was a different kind of pain leeching into his shoulders and back, cold and crippling as he realized just how deep their family's venom had sunk. "I'm okay. I'm really," really, not okay...

"You know something." Of course he did, but now Feliciano also knew far too much. "Why won't you just tell me? I have a right to know, I should-"

"I know." It was so hard to bite his lip and try to keep the terrible sounds at bay. Feliciano gave him another tight squeeze and blinked quickly, trying to control the tears already dripping free. "I know you do, I know you're right, but-"

They had to let go again and his little brother almost had his crying completely under control. It was Feliciano who had to touch his own eyes again and again, brushing tears off with his fingers and taking short, rough breaths through the nose so he wouldn't scream or wail from the pain. If he let himself fall on his knees he knew he wouldn't get up again, so he forced himself to put on a smile and wore it boldly.

"But what?" It really wasn't fair for his brother to look so offended. Just because Carlino was right didn't mean... it didn't mean anything.

Just like being a good brother didn't mean anything. For all his faults as a person Feliciano had always told himself he was a good middle brother because he'd always been ready to support the older one and to look after the younger one. Yes there had been fighting and yes there had been teasing. There had been indian burns and bloody mouths, tattle-tailing and vengeful lying, there had been races he wouldn't pretend to lose to a brother half his size and secrets he'd taken straight to their mother without hesitation. But when it mattered Feliciano had been a good brother. And he'd been a good son. And he'd been a good nephew and grandson and student and everything else he was supposed to be.

But he was also a coward.

"You're right, Carlino, you're completely right, but-" He was a coward and he was crying again and couldn't swallow or smile his way around it. "But if I tell you then I can't un-tell you, and you're too smart for me to pretend you won't figure out the rest of it from there."

And if Carlino figured it out then he would fight someone. He was almost as angry as Lovino had said, and if Feliciano told him what he wanted to know then who was to say Carlino wouldn't act on it? In fact, the only thing stopping Feliciano himself from acting out was his brother's presence on the dock.

His brother.

His little brother.

His baby brother.

And someone in their family had thought, and had then gone so far as to strip him and check, to see if Feliciano, their son, had hurt him.

Not hurt him with a punch, or a scream, or even a piece of broken glass. But with a touch, or some kind of lust, when they were alone in that bed together. Because the gay brother had been in town for their mother's funeral and that somehow had put the youngest brother in danger: at their mother's funeral.

Just by envoking the memory of her like that again, Feliciano felt himself stop crying and his smile cracked right down the middle. When he finally came back to focus on the path that would take him from the dock back up to where his car was waiting, he saw Carlino standing there in front of him, upset with puffy green eyes leaking frustrated tears, arms bundled up tight around himself with his hands pinned to his sides. He was twisting over himself but not moving, beginning to cry again and giving him such an angry, hurting glare that Feliciano almost regretted refusing to give him the explanation they'd come here for.

"Where's Uncle Mario?" His voice cracked just like his face but he didn't try to clear his throat or repeat himself.

"Like I should tell you after what you just said to me." Fine. Fair enough, but Feliciano wasn't playing around right now and he didn't need Carlino to answer him.

"Either you tell me and we drive there, or I leave you here and you run to catch up."

Now Feliciano saw it, the flash of something volatile in their brother's eyes that Lovino had warned him about. The anger of a young man being treated like a small child because he was still just a boy and there was nothing his little brother could do to change that. He would always be six years younger, he would always be that tiny red-haired bundle Mama showed him and Lovino in the same yellow room with the same stale smell and the rolls and rolls of white plastic tape...

"When did you become the better liar?" It hurt to hear that voice hiss at him, but not as much as he knew it could have. "Is it because you don't actually tell lies like Lovino: so you just stand there and don't say anything?"

"Don't talk about him like that," Feliciano warned. He was trying to work out in his sluggish mind whether it was better to try going by the restaurant first or going straight to the house on the edge of the piazza.

"Or what? You'll go meet up in Berlin like you do every two months and talk about me over coffee and wine?" Where was he coming up with this stuff? Two months? "If that's the only way to get your attention then go for it!"

"What the hell are you talking about now?"

"I'm talking about three years without you so much as sending a card back with him for me!" Oh don't even-

"Get in the car." Feliciano didn't know if he was shouting or just raising his voice, he couldn't tell from under all the pain and anger and overwhelming frustration: he just started walking. "Don't argue with me: I said get in the car! If I have to kick down grandpa's door to find Mario then I will, but we're not done talking about this!"

"Grandpa's house-?" Felicaino felt himself stomping down the dock and then kept going when he hit the gravel, too furious from everything going on to stop himself or slow down when his brother's footsteps started following him. "You wouldn't even go say hello to them when you showed up and now-?"

"Just get in the car!" This fight with the family was his and he was not going to drag his little brother into it. Feliciano had the car-keys in his hand and nearly broke into a jog when he saw the car come back into view.

"Mario isn't even at the house: Lovino's in town so he's down at the restau-"

"GET. IN. THE CAR."

And if older Uncle Mario had the guts to call him a child-molester to his face, then the next time Feliciano spoke to Ludwig it would be from an Italian prison.

WHY IS THIS CHAPTER SO LONG?

SEBORGA WHY DID YOU NOT SAY THE THING YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO?

I MEAN IT WORKS OUT but now Feli's pissed I mean he is so mad right now. This is the lovely thing about developing too much backstory: they were supposed to talk mostly about their mother and Lovino and instead the uncle stuff came up instead. I love this fic *kiss-kiss-smooch*