tran•scend•ence
— n. Existence or experience beyond the normal or physical level.
Chapter III:
"Do you think he'll like it, Feli?" Antonio Fernandez-Carriedo asked the younger of the Vargas brothers, glancing at his reflection in the slim, full-length mirror adjacent to the door leading to the living room of the Italian brothers' home for the umpteenth time as he fixed his slim black necktie.
"Ve~ I think so!" Feliciano chirped as he went about fixing the ornate plates on the dining table set for two. "I'm so excited for you and fratello; especially after all the planning we put in this!"
A nervous chuckle escaped the Spaniard's lips, "Ahaha~ I'm not even sure if he'll take my confession seriously~!"
Feliciano smiled knowingly, "Something tells me he will, big brother Antonio!"
Antonio pat his pants down, trying to smooth it out, when he frowned in realization. "I forgot my phone at home!"
The other shrugged it off, "Ve~ You won't need it! Trust me! You'll be too busy with fratellone to do anything else~! And while you and Lovi are being happy and in love, I'll just pop in to break it to him that Luddy and I are together~! He'll be too happy to care— it's failproof!"
The Spaniard could only manage another anxious laugh. "I— I can't believe that I'm finally going to confess to him. It sure took me long enough, huh?"
Feli nodded. "Yep! Now, we wait for fratello to come back! I sure hope he gets back soon,"
Antonio glanced up at Feliciano, "Ah, did he say where he was going?"
"Ve~ He just said that he was going to be out for a while," the Italian replied, glancing out of the dining room window.
The other slumped into a chair, hands clammy. An excited grin slowly erupted on his sunkissed face. He shook his head in disbelief, smiling all the while. "W-Wow… I'm finally going to tell mi tomate that… that I love him."
Over the past few weeks, Antonio and Feliciano have been devising a way for Antonio to confess his feelings for Lovino. It took long enough for Antonio to truly realize that he loved the older Vargas, and not in a brotherly way, but in a romantic one. The plan had been long overdue, with plenty of setbacks because something either came up for Antonio or Lovino. But finally, Antonio and Feliciano had finally seized the one weekend all three of them had free.
Little did he know what would transpire later that night would forever change his life.
X
Antonio had made all of Lovino's favorite dishes the way he knew the way the Italian liked it. Not only that, but there were candles lit, being the only source of light in the room.
While the lights were off, there were candles that lit up like a runway that led from the front door to the dining room. Along the path were dozens and dozens of rose petals, gently sprinkled over the wooden floor.
Most of the roses, however, were surrounding the room. It was a room full of flowers, and at one point, the smell even overwhelmed Antonio. He was thankful that Feliciano helped him with planning everything out so everything would be perfect.
Soon, he'd finally get to hold Lovino in his arms and whisper to him lovingly, "Te amo, mi querido."
I-If Lovi would have him, that is.
X
A few hours passed with no word at all from Lovino and Antonio was getting anxious. Feliciano had already retired upstairs to sleep whilst Antonio was still in the dining room, sitting at a table laden with cold food. He wandered over to the living room, wondering if he should call Lovi. But with what? Antonio left his phone at home and the Vargas brothers had no need for a landline.
M-Maybe he could ask Feli— no. The younger Italian was already asleep, and to rouse him from his slumber after he had helped Antonio with planning seemed rude and insensitive. If there one thing he and the Vargas brothers all shared, it was the sacred holiness that was delicious, beautiful sleep— siestas, especially.
The Spaniard fell back on the couch, staring at the front door from down the hall. The candles were nearly used up.
Where was Lovino?
X
Later, much, much later, Antonio woke up on the plush leather couch, his clothes wrinkled. He stumbled out of the living room and to the dining room to look out of the window. The red Fiat was nowhere to be seen.
Worry started to sink in the Spaniard's nerves. He gulped as he took another glance at the wallclock. It was nearly four AM. W-What if Lovino… spent the night at somebody else's house?
The brunette shook the thoughts out of his head, biting his bottom lip in worry. No. Lovinito wouldn't do that. He's not that k-kind of person.
But still, I could be wrong, Antonio glumly thought. Though Lovino even told Feliciano that he'd be out only for a 'while', a 'while' wasn't that long.
Antonio shuffled over to the dining table and began to keep the cold entrées. Albeit the undeniable feeling of disappointment he felt, there was always next time, right?
He smiled to himself. He'd confess to Lovi the next chance he got~!
X
Antonio unlocked the door to his apartment and opened it with a slow creak. As soon as he entered, closed and locked the door behind him, the first thing he did was bellyflop onto the bed, the tomato-patterned duvet calling out his name.
He was going to sleep, but then he saw his phone on the bedside table, where he'd left it last night. Antonio decided to check his phone for a second before going back to sleep. He reached over for it and opened up the screen.
His emerald eyes squinted at the bright screen in the dark, waiting for his eyes to adjust before he began to read the messages that lined up on his screen.
There were several texts from his best friends, Francis and Gilbert, offering their encouragement to the Spaniard and cheering him on for finally getting to confess to Lovino. The Spaniard chuckled at their texts, a smile tugging at his lips. Th-Then…
Antonio's smile brightened tenfold, all traces of tiredness out the window.
His tomate left him a voicemail message~!
He unlocked the phone in haste, excited to hear what Lovino had to say to him, even if it was Lovino complaining or ranting at him. Anything, just to hear his voice, the timbre of his Italian accent always, always sending chills down Toni's spine— in a good way, of course.
He couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at the length of the call. It was just over six minutes long. He wondered what Lovi had to say even more.
And within seconds, he'd accessed his voicemail and played the call. He placed the phone on speaker and heard his tomate speak.
"H-Hey, bastard— Antonio… I guess t-that this is goodbye."
Antonio's heart suddenly sunk to the pit of his stomach.
X
The Spaniard sat up, body rigid and frozen as Lovi cleared his throat. "T-This is Lovino b-by the way… b-but of course you a-already know that, bastard…"
Of course he did. He memorized the details of the sound of Lovino's voice, his perpetually flushed face like the back of his hand.
He wished to memorize and commit all the details of the Italian's body and soul to his memory, forever imprinted in the back of his mind. He wanted to understand Lovino; to get to know him inside and out. He wanted to know what Lovino thought about late at night, why he guarded his heart so. He wanted to know what secretly made the older Vargas brother happy, down to the deep, dark and arcane secrets he kept within the very depths of his soul.
Ever since the first time Antonio saw him, and the very moment malachite met breathtaking hazel, he saw the walls inside Lovino's eyes. The Italian kept these high, impenetrable walls around him… Antonio wanted to break them down so badly.
He was entranced by the mix of frosty green and molten amber. The Italian constantly kept Toni guessing, trying to figure him out. Even though Lovi seemed so cold and callous, Antonio understood that that wasn't who Lovino truly was inside.
It was a defense mechanism.
But from what?
From who?
Those walls Lovino constantly kept around him…
Were they to there to protect himself from others, or to protect others from him?
The Spaniard wanted to break down the walls Lovino put up around himself, one by one, brick by brick, until every last bit of the walls crumbled into dust and rubble.
Toni wanted to sink his teeth into him, to melt so perfectly into his lithe, sun-kissed body as they became one. To mend the broken inside of him, and to show Lovino how much he meant to the Spaniard. He wanted to know every nook and cranny on his form. To memorize Lovino's skin on his fingertips like the back of his hand.
Lovino was an enigma Antonio would gladly spend the rest of his life trying to figure out.
X
The Italian stayed quiet for a few seconds, enough for Antonio to break out of his trance just as the former began to speak. "O-Okay! So. When I first m-met you, I thought that you were the biggest ignorant jackass on the face of the earth, and somehow, you kinda still are."
Toni chuckled at the insult. Lovi was so cute~!
"Uh… Y-You were so fucking annoying then. A-And even now, you still manage to annoy the fuck out of me. So… yeah. When I first met you, you wouldn't leave me alone at all, dammit!"
Antonio could've sworn he heard a splash of water. Was Lovino taking a bath or something when he sent this?
"O-Oh, God…" Lovino's voice was trembling as he uttered the words. It screamed of 'fear' at Antonio, yet he didn't understand why. Why was his tomate so shaken up?
He began to worry. H-He wasn't sure of what to think of the call anymore.
X
"I thought that… that after a while, y-you'd finally g-give up on me like so many others did, just like the rest of them... but you didn't. A-And that meant a lot to me. A lot. Wh-Where people would shun me away because I was a rude and bitter little shit, you a-accepted me."
Antonio had this certain feeling of fear knotted deep within the pit of his stomach. L-Like there was some sort of presage about it, yet he couldn't exactly put his finger on it.
What's going on?
Suddenly, there was a really audible splash of water in the background.
A gasp escaped Lovino's lips as he hissed out a curse. "Shit. A-Anyways, you didn't mind how I always called you a bastard or how I would always push you away… B-Because you knew I never meant it, right?"
Of course I do, Lovino. I've always known you never meant to hurt me with your words, Antonio thought in response as alarms started to ring in his head. There was something off about this call. I-It... just didn't seem right. Why is he telling me these things?
It all seemed so interconnected, yet Antonio was still struggling to connect the dots. It frustrated him.
"Fuck!" Lovino screeched, fear dripping off his tone. "A-Antonio, you better get this fucking message, because i-if you don't I am going to be so pissed at you, you got that?! So, so very pissed, because if you don't, I-I'll kick your ass back all the way to fucking Barcelona! Or Madrid! Whatever! Dio mio, at the hour of my death and you still have me rambling. You stupid tomato bastard!"
X
'At the hour of my death'.
Within seconds, Antonio had thrown his legs over the edge of the bed, running his fingers through his unruly brown locks.
No, no, this can't be.
...He wouldn't.
Lovino would never do such a thing... right?
Antonio got up started to pace the room, a flurry of unwanted images, unfavorable possibilities of what could've happened to Lovino tauntingly dancing through his mind.
Slowly, he started to connect the dots.
"People would shun me out, but you were oh-so very nice to me, Antonio. A-And when we graduated from college together, it w-was then I realized that I had fucking feelings for you! And it scared me to death! You made me sure yet unsure about everything I ever knew! You were there for me, throughout all the bullshit I ever went through! N-Not once did you ever leave me. E-Even when Fe-Feliciano came along… Y-You still never left me…" Lovino was still speaking, voice trembling and Antonio knew right then and there that the Italian had tears streaming down his face. He could hear Lovino's short gasps for air as he struggled to keep it together.
"W-When Feliciano came along… He was like a fucking breath of fresh air, huh? Heh… A-As time passed, you and mio fratello began to become closer… obviously. We're like polar fucking opposites, mio fratellino and I. And I don't blame Feliciano f-for… fuck. I don't know. For taking you away— dammit! …I would say that Feliciano broke us apart, but you were never mine to begin with."
This call... it was a confession.
The Spaniard paled at the thought of the older Vargas brother actually thinking and believing that the former was in love with Feliciano.
Lovino's got it wrong.
Lovino's got it all wrong.
The brunette's head began spinning. He felt lightheaded, yet his chest was so heavy, oh-so heavy with grief.
But this wasn't just a confession...
A helpless cry escaped the Spaniard's lips. A protest to something that could never be undone for it was much too late.
"It's not— it's not you or fratello's fault. It was solely my own. I-I'm second best. I know; I always have been… A-And I'm sorry for piling all of this shit on you. Truly, I am. W-Whatever happens after a-all this bullshit, don't— don't blame yourself for this, o-okay, bastard?"
It was a final goodbye.
X
Antonio made a beeline for the bathroom, barely making it in time and retching the contents of his stomach into the toilet. He was sobbing, yet tears had yet to run down his face. His body had yet to physically react to the anguish the Spaniard was feeling.
His throat burned as he pushed himself off of the toilet and leant against the wall adjacent to it, sobbing as Lovino's voice continued to speak, resounding throughout the apartment.
"A-And I know you l-love Feliciano, so you better— you better fucking take good c-care of him, okay? Dammit…"
A guttural cry escaped Antonio's lips. "No, oh God, Lovino..."
"I just wished that you could've felt the same way for me. Y-You fucking tomato bastard. But I— I know that won't happen, and it never will."
"Why are you doing this?!" The brunette shouted back at the phone, his body trembling in grief.
"I've tried over and over again to be just like him. Just like Feliciano, but I just— I just couldn't. Okay? I thought that b-being more like Feli would make you— I don't even fucking know— return my feelings? B-But that just wasn't me anymore, and I c-couldn't live life trying to be someone else. I— This is who I am and no amount of denying it could ever change that. …Ti amo, bastardo. Ti amo. Mi dispiace. Mi dispiace tanto. Perdonami, mio amore; Antonio."
The Spaniard shot up and stumbled over to the cellphone on the bed, "Don't do this to me, Lovino, te amo! Please, don't leave me!"
Yet the Italian did not respond.
"O-Oh, Dio."
"Dammit, Lovino! Why?!"
He did not respond.
"Tell Feliciano t-that I love him too, dammit!"
"Lovi, te amo, don't do this! Oh God!"
Not to Antonio.
"J-Just know that I… I love you. I think I always have. And don't try to find me.
Because you won't."
Not to anyone.
"…Goodbye, Antonio."
Not anymore.
X
It was agonizing.
It was like watching or hearing someone slowly dying before you, but you couldn't do a thing to save them.
...N-Not a single damn thing.
And here Lovino was, dying in front of Antonio over and over again. It was like a vicious cycle that slowly ate away at Antonio's conscience and soul.
Antonio leant against the edge of the bed, his head pounding and his heart finally numb to all the pain that consumed him.
He played the voicemail, over and over and over again.
Lovino was dying over and over and over again.
Crying.
Confessing.
Pouring his heart out before he took his life away.
All these things Antonio wanted to say to Lovino... unspoken.
Forever unvoiced.
He wanted to cry out to Lovino, to cry out to the Heavens.
So he did.
...L-Lovino was probably too far up up there to hear him.
Then Antonio's phone began to ring.
He stared at it blankly for one second, two seconds, before he had this little hope inside of him that i-it was his querido, Lovino calling. Calling to say that y-yesterday was just a mean joke that got carried away too far o-or something... right?
...It's possible.
He reached up for the phone atop the middle of his bed and stared at it with bleary eyes, waiting for his vision to refocus through the dried tears that he'd shed.
Gilbert.
Antonio gulped, feeling his head begin to throb again, before he answered the call.
"H... Hola, Gilbert."
"Kesesese~ How'd the confession go last night? Franny and I didn't want to disturb you just in case you two were having some sexy-time,"
Confession.
Before he could stop himself, Antonio choked out a sob and his eyes became misty with a fresh onslaught of tears.
"Eh? Toni, what's wrong? Did he reject you?"
Antonio could only sob incoherently in response.
"You stay right there, mein Freund, Francis and I are coming over, Verdammt!"
Then the self-proclaimed Prussian hung up.
X
Weary and swollen emerald eyes absentmindedly glanced around the apartment.
In a blinding fit of grief and rage, he had taken out all of his frustrations on his home.
Paintings were torn down, curtains were ripped from their fixtures, letting the bright sunlight in the apartment.
Bottles.
There were bottles everywhere.
Some broken, some intact, and others completely shattered.
The place reeked of alcohol, yet drowning himself in it couldn't curb the sound of Lovino's voice alwaysalwaysalways playing in his head.
All he saw was red.
All he heard was Lovino.
'…Ti amo, bastardo. Ti amo. Mi dispiace. Mi dispiace tanto. Perdonami, mio amore; Antonio.'
With great effort, Antonio swallowed the lump forming in the back of his throat, tears beginning to run down his face for the nth time that day. Dios mío.
Even when the voicemail wasn't playing, he could still hear him.
Hear him dying.
Hear him falling apart.
Hearing him crumble, yet Antonio couldn't do a thing to save him.
The Spaniard painfully squeezed his eyes shut, his face contorting into one of great pain.
It hurt so much, he could literally feel his heart clenching in pain.
Why, Lovino? Why?
H-He could just imagine it now. He could see it in his head.
Lovino would abruptly barge in the apartment using the key Antonio gave him without saying so beforehand. Then, he would see Antonio sitting by the bed, drenched in sweat, alcohol and tears. The Italian would begin to scold him, 'What the fuck is wrong with you, bastard? Get your shit together, dammit!'
'But Lovi,' he himself would whine, stretching his arms out to the slightly disgusted Vargas. 'I missed you~! I had a muy terrible dream about you!'
His tomate would sit at the foot of the bed, kicking the emptied bottle of tequila away, 'Oh yeah? What now, bastard? Did you have a nightmare about me eating all of your stupid tomatoes again?'
The Spaniard would then tersely shake his head. 'No, it was much more worse than that!'
Lovino would expectantly raise an eyebrow at him at this point.
'Lovi~ I dreamt that you died a-and all you left me was a voicemail saying goodbye!'
Lovinito's eyes would soften momentarily before he resumes glaring at the Spaniard. 'Chigi! W-What the hell, asshole?! Y-You and your stupid nightmares, dammit!'
T-Then Lovino would raise a hand to lightly smack his head out of irritation. Emerald eyes would lock with hazel as Antonio tightly grabs Lovino's wrist, pulling him in as his expression grew serious. '...Te amo, Lovino.' He would whisper, watching his tomate's face flush fifty shades of red. He would pull Lovino in and feverishly press his lips against his—
"Oi, Toni!"
Emerald eyes snap open as he was brought out of his reverie.
Nothing.
There was nothing, no trace of Lovino ever being there with him.
His heart broke all over again.
He buried his face in his hand and let the tears run down his ashen cheeks as Gilbert and Francis entered his apartment.
A low whistle escaped Gilbert's lips as the two gawked at the apocalyptic state of the room.
Francis was the first one at Antonio's side, kneeling beside him. "Mon Dieu, what happened, mon ami? Did he reject you?"
The Spaniard only began to weep even harder, Francis' words triggering unwanted memories of the voicemail. He managed a small shake of his head.
"What did he do, Toni?" It was Gilbert speaking this time.
Antonio refused to reiterate how six minutes' worth of words ruined his life. He automatically reached for his phone laying atop his bed and played the voicemail, his badly muffled crying growing louder as he shoved the phone into Francis' chest.
Gilbert and Francis shared a curious glance at each other as Lovino's voice began to pour out of the phone's speakers.
"H-Hey, bastard— A-Antonio… I guess t-that this is goodbye."
And in that instant, they put two and two together. The Prussian quietly stared down at his hands as the Frenchman nearly dropped his phone.
"Mon Dieu."
X
"Feli— Take me to Feli's," Antonio managed to choke out, breaking the several minutes' worth of silence between the three. "I need to tell him that L-Lovino won't be coming home anymore—"
More sobbing.
Gilbert quickly shook his head. "What if this is just some stupid prank Lovino's playing on us? On all of us?"
Antonio pulled his hands away from his face and glared at the Prussian amidst tears blurring his vision. "Lovi wouldn't do such a thing! He would never do something so c-cruel to Feliciano for fun."
After several seconds of silence, Gilbert sighed and stood up. "Fran, help me clean him up before we go to the police to report him missing and head to Feli's."
The Frenchman nodded, helping Antonio up to his unsteady feet, alcohol still present in his system.
X
After Francis and Gilbert had managed to get Antonio somewhat cleaned up and changed into a clean set of clothes, they helped him downstairs to Francis' car, in which all three got in as Francis slid his car key into the ignition.
"How do we tell him?" Gilbert asked from the backseat of Francis' boisterously blue Chevrolet as the Frenchman pulled out of one of the parking slots in front of Antonio's apartment complex.
Toni, who was riding shotgun, leant against the window with his eyes painfully squeezed shut, his jaw set, and his face grim, said nothing.
In his stead, it was Francis who replied, "I do not know yet… Mon Dieu. I can't believe it."
Gilbert gave a terse nod in agreement. "Ja, I know what you mean. I never thought that Lovino would be the type to…" He trailed off, leaving the other two to fill in the blanks.
"Such terrible timing, at that," Francis muttered, charging Antonio's phone using the car-friendly charger by connecting it to the car's jack.
"Gott. I can't even imagine what I'd feel if… if West died. I mean, like Lovino did. I know he would never do such a thing, but we thought the same thing for Lovino, and look at what happened—"
The Spaniard released a quivering breath thick with emotion in response to their exchange. Francis took a moment to worriedly glance at Toni before running his hands though Antonio's still-damp hair, cerulean blue eyes flickering back onto the road.
"We'll get through this together, mon ami. I promise you."
Still, Antonio uttered not a word.
X
The ride to the Vargas'— Feliciano's place was too quick; much too quick for the Bad Touch Trio's liking. None of them knew what to say, or how to break it to the younger Italian regarding the devastating voicemail Toni had received.
Francis and Gilbert managed to get Antonio out of the car, who numbly ambled along the path to the two-story Italian villa.
As if he were snapped out of a trance, he suddenly glanced up and finally took notice of his surroundings. He found himself in front of— of Feliciano and Romano's home. Slowly, realization flooded his mind and overwhelmed his senses.
He whipped himself around to scan the driveway, or the streets, or any of the other neighbors' driveways, for any trace of the red Fiat he was so accustomed to seeing.
There were none.
No traces at all.
"His car— Dios mio, it's still not here—" he exclaimed, voice filled with ever-growing panic as he ran his hands through his messy chocolate brown hair. A distinct feeling of hopelessness and despair seized his chest, constricting it tighter and tighter with each passing second Lovino was nowhere to be seen or to be heard from.
Gilbert looked at him sympathetically, carmine eyes softening. He firmly wrapped his hand around the Spaniard's forearm, tugging him towards the general direction of the front door. "Toni, c'mon; we need to talk to Feli."
Antonio shrugged out of the Prussian's grasp, sweat beginning to form on his temple. "It's not here. God. I-It means that mi querido Lovino—" he sunk to the snowy ground on his knees. A strangled gasp escaped his lips as tears threatened to fall down his cheeks once again.
"Scheiße, Franny, help me out here!" Gilbert called out as he tried to pull the brunette back to his feet.
Francis, who had gone ahead to ring the doorbell, had turned around and hurried over to his two best friend calling out, "Merde! Antoine, mon Dieu, get up!"
Whilst he reached out to help the Spaniard back up, as if on cue, the door slowly opened to reveal a confused but happy Feliciano, peering at the Trio from the front door with his head cocked to the side by a fraction. The confusion on his face soon melted away into one of happiness. Immediately, he called out to them, "Ve~ Hi big brother Toni, big brother Francis, big brother Gilbert! Buon giorno~!"
Gilbert sheepishly grinned at the Italian and scratched the back of his head, "Guten Morgen, Feli! Kesese~ Say, can we come in? Just to talk to you for a bit about something."
Feliciano stepped out and beamed at them, "Ah, of course! I'll cook you all some pasta!"
The Prussian hesitantly went ahead, stepping inside the house, taking note of the melted candles and the rose petals that led to the dining room. Oh, Gott. Without skipping a beat, Feli kept on talking, "Ve~ Sorry about the mess but big brother Toni was planning to confess to fratello, but for some reason, fratello hasn't come home yet—"
"Yeah, about that—" Gil glanced behind him to see Francis walking towards the house with Antonio. Good. The albino continued speaking, "There's something you need to know."
Fuck. How the hell do I break it to him?
He had followed Feli into the kitchen, where the latter was about to pull out a box of pasta out of the cupboard.
Upon the Frenchman and the Spaniard's entrance, Toni had taken to leaning against the wall by the doorway of the kitchen, emerald eyes dull and tired. Francis stood beside the Prussian, ready to help or intervene if need be.
Feliciano began to fill a pot up with water before turning to his unexpected guests, "Well, just tell me! Ve~ I'm all ears~!"
Gilbert shot Francis a look, practically screaming Help me out, Verdammt! The latter immediately nodded in acknowledgement, taking a step forward as he laced his fingers together.
"Feliciano," Francis began, his facial expression slightly grim. "There is something you must know."
The Italian glanced up at the blond after setting the pot onto the stove and letting the water boil, "Hmm?"
The Frenchman cleared his throat and glanced at his feet for a second or two before meeting Feliciano's gaze, chocolate brown eyes twinkling with curiosity.
"The— The thing is, and you have to remember that we don't want you to do anything rash, but we, uh… might need you to come with us to the police."
Immediately, Feliciano threw his hands up in a defensive position, "I swear I didn't steal any pasta! O-Okay, maybe there was that one time, but fratello said that he didn't tell anybody! Y-You can ask him! Let me just call mio fratello~!"
Within seconds, Feliciano had his phone out of his pocket and pressed to his ear. He always kept his big brother on speed-dial for occasions like these— or when he felt like Lovino needed a bit more hug therapy.
Cerulean blue eyes widened in alarm, "That's the thing, Feliciano—"
Huh.
That was odd.
Normally, Lovino would have picked up by now, demanding Feliciano explain why he called.
"Wait a minute, he's not answering," Feliciano murmured, raising an index finger up.
'The number you have requested is not in service. Please try again.'
So he did and got the same response.
'The number you have requested is not in service. Please try again.'
He gave it another go anyway.
'The number you have requested is not in service. Please—'
After the third time he'd called, Francis was already by his side, gently lowering the hand Feliciano used to hold onto his phone down to his side.
"Feliciano," Francis spoke up again, expression grave.
"Wh-Wha—" Feliciano stuttered out, utterly confused.
"We have reason to believe that Lovino… may have killed himself." The blond spoke slowly, as if talking to a child. With Feliciano, it might as well have been the same thing.
The latter pouted at him, "Ve? That's not very funny, big brother Francis."
"I… I'm serious mon petit Feliciano. There was a voicemail—"
Feliciano firmly crossed his arms over his chest, chocolate brown eyes narrowing at the Frenchman in slight annoyance. "Mio fratello, Lovi, leaves voicemails all the time. Stop this now, I don't like it."
"Now, now, Feliciano—"
"Was he mean to you again or something? Y-You know he doesn't mean anything he says, right? Right? Lovino's a good person, so w-why are you saying bad things like this?"
"Mon Dieu, Feli, I'm sorry," Francis started reaching out for the Italian.
The younger Vargas brother took a step back, shook his head in disbelief, eyes wide as his chest rose up and down rapidly.
A tense silence engulfed the room before there was a loud resounding slap! that reverberated through the kitchen, save for the sound of the slowly boiling water.
Feliciano had slapped Francis' hand away, continually shaking his head in denial. "No… No. You're lying! F-Fratello would never do such a thing,"
"Feliciano, listen; we need to report him missing. H-He left Antoine a voicemail and—"
"You're lying!" Feliciano hissed, lashing out at the Frenchman. Almost immediately, Gilbert was behind Feliciano, holding the Italian back by his arms.
Tears began to stream down Feli's face as he began to yell at them in Italian. Antonio couldn't do a thing but slowly slide down the wall until he had curled up with his knees against his chest.
It was becoming real.
It was becoming all too real.
As foolish as it seemed, Antonio actually had a glimmer of foolish hope when he realized he was in front of his Lovinito's home. That if the red Fiat was there, then, definitely, Lovino was, too.
That hope was now crumbling, disappearing along with the likelihood of Lovino still being alive.
…Oh God.
Emerald eyes glanced up to see a normally cheerful and composed Feliciano, absolutely livid as he screeched out, "He's not dead! Mio fratello is not dead! You're wrong! You're lying to me!"
Francis and Gilbert were trying to knock some sense into the outraged Italian, speaking in their respective native tongues.
It was complete and utter chaos.
It wasn't until Francis had grabbed hold of Feliciano's shoulders, gave him a stern shake, and exclaimed, "Mon Dieu, Feliciano! Calm down!" did the Italian actually grow quiet, eyes flickering quickly over to Antonio's before quietly and calmly asking him this.
"What's going on, Antonio?"
Toni's eyes met Franny's, who let go of the Italian before pulling the Spaniard's phone out of his jeans' pocket and unlocking it.
Slowly, Gilbert let him go.
Francis began to play the voicemail, apologetically muttering, "I'm sorry, Feli. I'm so, so sorry…"
The Prussian uncomfortably glanced down at his feet before shuffling out of the room. "I'll call Ludwig over."
And once again, Lovino began to speak the last words they'd ever hear from him again.
X
"Mio fratellone è morto! Perché? Perché?! Dio, abbi pieta!" Feliciano screamed out in the police station, absolutely distraught and devastated.
His f-fratello is gone.
Forever.
N-No more fratello.
No more movie nights with pasta.
No more siestas.
No more sneaking into fratello's bed at night.
No more fratello fussing over him.
No more fratello.
Ludwig had wrapped his arms around Feliciano's torso, trying to calm him down. Truth be told, the German was completely shocked when he found out what had happened.
He was in the midst of cooking some wurst when his bruder had called him and demanded he come to Feliciano's house as soon as he could. He asked why, but Gilbert had hung up soon thereafter.
When he had gotten to the Vargas residence, he could hear Feliciano's sobbing from outside.
E-Everything was such a blur, and he somehow found himself in the local police station with his brother, his brother's friends, and a sobbing Italian in his arms.
While he was sitting on one of the waiting chairs in the station with Feliciano beside him, Francis, Antonio and Gilbert had gone off to report Lovino's disappearance.
They believed him to be dead from what they've drawn from listening to the voicemail, but without a body to attain to that fact… there was still the possibility Lovino had been kidnapped or had gotten horribly, horribly lost somewhere.
None of the two were ideal, but still— it was better than dead.
Though Ludwig and the older Vargas brother didn't exactly get along— at all— the blond didn't want him deceased.
"Mi manca mio fratello! Non posso vivere senza di lui!" Feliciano cried out, burying his face into Ludwig's chest. Slowly, his sobs died down and quieted into shaky, emotional breaths.
"Alles wird gut, meine Liebe." The blond coaxed, running his hands through the Italian's silky brown hair. "I'm sure we will get to the bottom of this."
"I want m-mio fratello back, Luddy," Feli gasped out, tears still running down his face. "I can't do anything w-without him. Mio fratello,"
The German pulled him closer, pressing his lips against the top of Feliciano's head. "I know, Feli. I know. I do too. But all we can do right now is hope for the best."
He glanced down at the brunette, azure eyes softening, as he whispered, only for Feliciano to hear, "Ich liebe dich, Feliciano."
Almost immediately, the Italian replied, "Ti amo troppo, Ludwig. T-Ti amo,"
They grew quiet after that.
X
The past few days have been absolute hell without Lovino.
Without as much as a trace, there wasn't much to go on for the search of Lovino Romano Vargas' whereabouts. There was a tip-off from a bar, however. The bartender remembered seeing Lovino getting drunk before stumbling out of the bar. He never saw him after that.
And as much as it hurt, Feliciano was the first one to accept the likelihood that Lovino wasn't coming back anytime soon anymore.
Yet Antonio… it was as if he was still stuck in some sort of emotional limbo.
He didn't want to let the idea of Lovino still being alive go— he refused to.
It just didn't… he just didn't want to accept his death so easily.
To him, it was akin giving up on Lovino completely.
As if denying the Italian ever existed.
Honestly, there was no physical body to grant him that closure, but it always deluded the Spaniard into thinking that Lovino would, indeed, return to them— to him someday.
This was how the Spaniard found himself at Feliciano's house, where they were finalizing the funeral arrangements for the older Vargas brother, thanks to the help of Gilbert's younger brother, Ludwig.
There was a coffin, yes, but no body to put in it…
"M-Maybe we should just bury fratello's weight in tomatoes," Feliciano muttered, failing drastically to lighten everyone's mood up as his voice cracked at the very end.
His face scrunched up in pain as tears ran down his face, crying into Ludwig's chest.
They were relapsing over and over and over again.
When Gilbert came in from the kitchen, beer in hand and tomato in the other, he offered the latter to Feliciano.
The Italian pried himself away from Ludwig's arms and he carefully took the tomato, hands shaking, staring at it with big brown eyes for several seconds before breaking into tears again, tightening his grip on the tomato and throwing it at the wall before him, hitting the whitewash concrete with a splat as it fell down to the floor.
Feliciano had eaten neither pasta nor tomatoes since.
It reminded him too much of his fratello, how they'd always have pasta every night, and it reminded him of his future dinners by his own lonesome.
And he didn't want to remember or forget just yet.
X
Later that night, Gilbert drove Antonio home while Ludwig opted to spend the night at Feliciano's for moral support.
The Spaniard was numb and he knew it. He'd lost count of how many times he'd wept; he cried until he just couldn't cry anymore.
But that didn't mean that the hurt went away, no— it was a dull ache that continually stabbed him in the chest as he kept on listening to the voicemail over and over again, always on replay with earphones on.
He couldn't even begin to comprehend how he could be in so much pain, yet feel absolutely nothing at all.
Gilbert finally confronted him about it. "Why do you keep on doing this to yourself, Toni?" His voice was stern, yet at the same time cautious. Like he didn't want to set Antonio off.
A pregnant silence fell between them before Antonio honestly answered, "…I don't know."
The corner of Gilbert's lip curled down into a frown. "Listening to that voicemail over and over won't bring him back!"
He hated having to resort to being so callous, but this— listening to it over and over again— wasn't helping Antonio at all. If anything, it was self-destructive; emotionally masochistic.
He knew that nothing would ever be the same, but Gott, he wanted Antonio on the road to recovery! Not just for Lovino, for him, for Feliciano, or for any of his friends, but for his— Antonio's— sake. Gilbert refused to sit and watch as his best friend fell apart, no.
That's not what best friends do.
Antonio immediately fired back a response, turning to face the albino, emerald eyes gleaming at his crimson eyes darkly, "You think I don't know that? Of course I do—"
"Then why do you keep on doing it?! It does nothing but bring you pain! Gott, I hate seeing you like this!"
"E-Exactly!" the Spaniard exclaimed in response. "…I keep thinking that… if I listen to it over and over, I'll understand what he felt before he— he… Dios,"
Gilbert's eyes softened, "Look, Toni. I'm upset about this too. We all are. But would Lovino really want you to be so miserable like this?"
A bitter chuckle escaped the brunette's lips. "I deserve it, mi amigo."
The Prussian glanced at him for a second, perplexed. "Deserve what? The misery?"
Antonio licked his bottom-lip, which had become dry and chapped over the past few days. "Mhmm," he hummed. "A-After all, I'm the reason he killed himself—"
Gilbert abruptly slammed on the brakes with his foot, prompting several drivers behind him to honk their horns at him in answer, all the while cursing at him and giving him middle-fingered salutes.
The albino pulled the silver Mercedes-Benz over to the side of the road, feeling angry. He turned to Antonio, eyes narrowed. "Don't you dare fucking say that, Toni. You don't know that for sure."
A scoff escaped the other's lips as he, too, turned to face his friend. "Gilbert, he died thinking that he wouldn't amount to anything compared to his own brother. He thought I loved Feli."
Gilbert slammed his hand against the steering wheel, leaning in, "But you're not the one at fault, Verdammt!"
Antonio glared at Gilbert, defiance radiating off his person. "Yes, I am! H-He probably died cold a-and alone, thinking nobody loved him. But I do. A-And I never got to tell him that. D-Dios, if I only found it in myself to tell him sooner… he would still be here. We would be together. Gilbert, how would you feel if Mathew killed himself because he thought you were in love with Alfred?"
Gilbert flinched at the Spaniard's words, letting the words sink in. Slowly, he responded, "I… I guess I can see where you're coming from. I can't— I can't stand the thought of birdie not being by my side anymore. Mein Gott, that was dickish of me. I… I'm sorry."
The brunette slowly nodded. "I-I know. I forgive you, mi amigo." A heavy sigh escaped his lips as he slumped against the leather car seat, giving a small shake of his head. He smiled sadly, whispering, "I miss him. I miss him so much. A-And I love him."
Carmine eyes met emerald green ones.
"I will always love him and I just— I just wish that I had a chance to tell him that. Carpe diem, right? Seize the day. But… But I didn't. He'll never get to hear the words that I've been wanting to say to him for, what, eight years now?"
Before he could even stop himself, a lone tear had rolled down his cheek.
It was followed by another.
And another.
And another.
And another.
'Ti amo, bastardo. Ti amo. Mi dispiace. Mi dispiace tanto. Perdonami, mio amore; Antonio.'
Te amo, Lovino.
Te amo, te amo, te amo.
I'm sorry.
The funeral was held that Sunday.
X
"Lovino! Lovino!" Antonio's screaming had brought Lovino out of the memories of his own death. But the screaming wasn't directed at him, it was directed at the grave that sealed his fate.
The Italian remembered everything.
T-The lake he walked past; it was the same lake he died in.
His Fiat and his physical body were still down there.
"L-Lovi, why did you have t-to leave me?!" The Spaniard cried out, tears running down his face as he fell back into a sitting position, legs splayed before him.
"I'm sorry! Perdonami! I didn't mean to fucking do it!" Lovino yelled back at him, but Antonio couldn't hear him, no. "Dammit, I'm right here!"
The former kicked the gravestone, only for his foot to pass through. "Fuck it all!"
"Dios, ten piedad! N-No puedo vivir sin mi tomate… Mi corazon; mi Lovino…"
Lovino stilled, turning to the other brunette. "W-What?"
Antonio still had tears freely running down his tanned cheeks, giving the grave a broken smile. The Italian crouched down in front of him, hazel eyes wide and lips parted in surprise. D-Did he just call me his corazon..?
"Te quiero, Lovino… I-I… I love you too, mi amor." He chuckled, wiping the tears away from his face, but they never seemed to cease. "I really am an idiot, Lovi… I-If only I showed you how m-much you meant to me better… Dios, y-you would still be here. It's all my fault…"
"No, nothing is your fault, you idiot!" Lovino hissed, unaware of the tears streaming down his face. "I was the one who drove drunk. Me. It was all me. My fault. Don't blame this on yourself— I told you not to blame yourself, you fucking tomato bastard!"
"I love you so much, Lovino. I-I never got to tell you—" Antonio's face contorted into one of agonizing pain. "I never got to tell you in person. I love you so, so very much, mi tomate. L-Lo siento. Estoy tan, tan apenado. Perdóname. Te amo. Te amo, mi querido. Mi tomate, Lovino."
Lovino's hazel eyes softened, blinking the tears away from his eyes. Suddenly, there was a bright light from behind Antonio. His eyes widened in shock as he glanced past the Spaniard.
T-There was a girl there, just standing by the trees, covered in a pristine white robe from head to toe. Her fair hair was hidden from within the comforts the hood of her robe, as were her feet and hands. Her porcelain face was hauntingly beautiful and ethereal, yet so cold and empty.
'Come, Lovino,' she seemed to say to him. Her rosy pink lips weren't moving, yet h-he knew he could hear her voice in his head.
What the actual fuck.
He scowled at her, flipping her the bird. "Fuck off! I'm not leaving Antonio."
Her pale blue eyes hardened. A scythe suddenly appeared in her hand in a blinding flash of light.
He warily took a step back. "Chigi! W-What the hell do you want from me anyway, dammit?!"
'It is time to go now.' She replied in a sing-song manner that honestly creeped Lovino the fuck out.
"Tch, what if I don't want to?" He muttered, casting a worried glance at Antonio. "I can't just leave him like this, dammit..."
She bowed her head down a fraction, icy blue eyes never leaving his. Even as dead as he was, he felt a shiver of fear slither down his spine.
"F-Fine!" he growled out, taking several steps forward. He shot another glance at Antonio. "J-Just... just give me a fucking minute, dammit..."
The girl nodded before stepping back.
A sigh escaped Lovino's lips as he turned to face the Spaniard. Slowly, he made his way to him and sat in front of Antonio. The latter was just staring blankly at the gravestone, emerald eyes glistening with the tears he'd shed.
"Look, bastard," Lovino started, voice thick with emotion. "I guess... I guess I have to go now. A-And I'll see you someday, alright? But that sure as hell better not be soon, or else I'm kicking your ass back down to earth, dammit!"
Tears rolled down his cheeks. "I-If only... God, I wish I didn't get drunk at all that night. Fuck."
And for a second, Antonio glanced up. The breath in Lovino's throat hitched as their eyes seemingly met for the first time since he'd woken up in the forest. "Ti amo, bastard." He whispered before burying his face into his arms. Sobs wracked his body as he tried to get it together.
He slowly glanced up at Antonio before nervously leaning in and pressing his lips against the Spaniard's own.
He could feel the warmth radiating from Toni's lips, making him feel alive than he'd been in a long time— even before he'd died.
The girl had made her way over to them, somehow, and she was now right behind him.
'We must leave now.'
Lovino stood up, dusting the imaginary snow and dust off his jeans before giving Antonio a small, sad smile.
"Ciao, Antonio."
And like the cigarette smoke, he, too, dissipated into nothingness.
X
Antonio sat there on the ground, ignoring how his jeans were getting wet with the melting snow.
Even after the funeral had come to pass...
It didn't give him closure.
I-It just didn't.
It didn't feel right saying goodbye to Lovi like that when there was no Lovi to say goodbye to.
Throughout the week, it was like he was in a trance he couldn't break out of.
Sometimes, it was like the Italian was still there.
Like he was out of town for a few days, and then he would come back.
S-Sometimes, he could still hear Lovino cursing at him throughout the day when he'd do certain things, like drink straight out of the juice carton.
Lovino was kinda germophobic that way, but it made the possibility of him still being alive all the more real.
Like he was still there.
But deep, deep inside, Antonio just knew he never was and never will be.
X
Antonio had gotten a leave from work for a week or two. He spent this one day just to be with Lovino. Actually, Francis and Gilbert were parked by one of the roads, waiting for him. They'd accompanied him for the first two hours or so before they decided to get something for all of them to eat, but Antonio wasn't hungry.
A-And even as unlikely and delusional as it was, he could've sworn that he saw Lovino, sitting right in front of him.
For the final time, breathtaking hazel met emerald green.
"Ti amo, bastard." Lovino whispered, only loud enough for Antonio to hear. T-Then, his tomate broke down crying into his arms.
The Spaniard was still in shock; he didn't know what to do.
His heart rapidly started to beat against his chest.
He could even hear the pulsating rhythm in his ears.
L-Lovino.
The love of his life.
Before he knew it, the Italian had glanced up and pressed his lips against his.
He swore he could even feel Lovi's soft lips against his.
Oh, how he'd wished to savor that kiss until the end of time. To wrap his arms around the Italian's body and just keep him there, with him.
But alas, everything has got to end sometime.
As Lovino pulled away and stood up, he had begun fading into thin air.
"Ciao, Antonio." he'd said, a small smile gracing his pink lips as a blush dusted his cheeks.
And for the longest time, Toni just sat there, trying to comprehend it all.
His emerald green eyes flickered up to the sky as a genuine smile broke out on his face for the first time in days. Finally, he felt a sense of closure, getting to see Lovino one last time.
Even if it were just an illusion, he truly felt like Lovino was there with him.
He was Lovino's, and Lovino was his.
Forever.
"Yo también te amo, Lovino."
I'll see you again someday, somewhere.
X
"That little kiss you stole,
It held my heart and soul.
And like a ghost in the silence, I disappear.
Don't try to fight the storm,
You'll tumble overboard.
Tides will bring me back to you."
— Deathbeds by Bring Me The Horizon
FIN.
A/N: fratellone - big brother or elder brother
fratello - brother
mi tomate - my tomato
te amo, mi querido - I love you, my dear
hola - ello
mein Freund - my friend
Verdammt - dammit
Dios mio - my God
muy terrible - very terrible
mon Dieu - my God
mon ami - my friend
Ja - yes
Scheiße - shit
Merde - shit
mon petit - my little
Mio fratellone è morto - my big brother is dead
perché - why
Dio, abbi pieta - God, have mercy
bruder - brother
mi manca mio fratello - I miss my brother
non posso vivere senza di lui - I can't live without him
alles wird gut, meine Liebe - everything will be alright, my love
Ich liebe dich - I love you
Ti amo troppo - I love you, too
Gott - God
mi amigo - my friend
Dios, ten piedad - God, have mercy
no puedo vivir sin mi tomate - I cannot live without my tomato
mi corazon - my heart
te quiero - I love you
lo siento - I'm sorry
estoy tan, tan apenado - I am so, so sorry
perdóname - forgive me
ciao - hello & goodbye
yo también te amo - I love you, too
Thanks for sticking all throughout this admittedly, incredibly long chapter! I understand that this is a really depressing/sappy/emo/overly-dramatic story, but I guess this is what happens when you incessantly brood to these 16 tracks below, which are the songs I have listened to only whilst writing or proof-reading Transcendence:
Armor For Sleep - Car Underwater
30 Seconds to Mars - The Kill
Paramore - All I Wanted
La Dispute - Sad Prayers for Guilty Bodies
La Dispute - A Poem
La Dispute - You and I in Unison
La Dispute - Andria
La Dispute - Sunday Morning, at a Funeral
La Dispute - King Park
Blink-182 - Adam's Song
Taking Back Sunday - You're So Last Summer
Pierce the Veil - Wonderless
Pierce the Veil - The Sky Under The Sea
The Amity Affliction - Pittsburgh
The Amity Affliction - Don't Lean on Me
The Amity Affliction - Chasing Ghosts
Thank you to Guest, SecretPrussianCitizen, Masterliful, The Goliath Beetle, and Kei-Kat for reviewing, and thanks to those who have followed and favorited this story. Please review and tell me your thoughts on this chapter. I sincerely hope it's up to par with the two previous chapters. I didn't want to solely focus on Antonio's reaction to the voicemail, but to everyone else's as well.
The death of someone dear to them often causes a ripple affect. It affects everyone and everything, whether they were close or not.
In Lovino's case, it was this huge snowball effect that got bigger and bigger with his problems and insecurities and troubles... until he did what he did that night. Then, it all fell apart.
Remember: Do not drink and drive, people!
~jellydonut16~