You love me.

Lovino stayed true to his promise, at least initially.

He called Antonio from time to time, chatting with him about life and school. Lovino's sexuality always seemed to be the elephant in the room during their conversations, until Antonio, bubbly and oblivious as always, started to bring it up again.

In phone calls he would always say things with a tone that implied concern for Lovino's feelings on his sexuality. He would ask frequently how school was going, if he was talking to anyone, or making any new friends. Lovino was not stupid; he knew that Antonio meant well, but he honestly hadn't progressed at all in the acceptance of his own sexuality. He generally avoided it. Elizaveta had stopped torturing him about it so constantly, and he had begun to ignore her more as well. He didn't have the heart to tell Antonio that he had fallen into even farther isolation.

And then, Antonio started to become more direct in his questioning. Was Lovino interested in anyone? Had he found any other classmates to be friends with that were 'out'? Lovino always answered awkwardly and quietly, swerving around the questions uncomfortably, but they always seemed to return. And then, of course, Antonio, that bumbling bastard, had to bring up the poem. Of course he did. Lovino had acted too defensive about it for something not to be up. The first time Antonio had asked about the 'mystery guy' (so he called him) over the phone, Lovino had nearly had a heart attack. The young man's eyes grew wide with panic as his heart thundered in his chest. He could only stutter his dissent of telling Antonio into the phone, which the latter responded to in his own friendly, accepting way. However, as time wore on, Antonio seemed more and more intent on encouraging Lovino to 'go for it' with whoever this person was. The teenager wanted to rip his hair out of his head every time his clueless companion gave him romantic suggestions, but always declined politely, suffering in silence. What else could he do? He didn't want to risk ruining the best friendship – or relationship of any sort, for that matter – that he had ever had.

His unwillingness to talk about his most confidential secret, he discovered, slowly created a deepening rift between the two males. He could tell that Antonio was becoming frustrated and hurt by the fact that it seemed like Lovino didn't trust him enough to share his real feelings with him. The fact that he refused to speak the truth of his emotions to Antonio had an entirely different origin, however, little to the other's knowledge.

The inevitable end of Lovino and Antonio's conversations didn't die in an explosion of yelling and anger, or a sharp word filled with spite directed at one another. It tapered off, slowly and gradually; as the summer before Lovino's sophomore year dragged on, he called less and less frequently, opting to sleep in and mow neighbors' lawns here and there for extra money. He made a few acquaintances by keeping his mouth shut and becoming as average of a teenager as he could. These acquaintances occasionally came over to play videogames, but they honestly meant nothing to Lovino, and he probably meant nothing to them. To him it didn't matter much; he just needed the façade of normality. Anything that could patch up the gaping hole in his chest, if only enough to make it so unnoticeable that he too would forget all about it, would do. It was unlikely, but he could always hope.

However, strangely enough, while blocking out all thoughts and memories of his former caretaker, Lovino fully embraced his sexual orientation, although secretively. The method in which he did so was honestly something that he had never expected from himself.

He relied entirely on online chat rooms, forums, and websites. At first he sought advice, but eventually decided that he didn't want any information. He simply wanted an outlet for the sexual frustration that was building up inside of him, and he did so by meeting strangers on the internet and sexting or cybering with them, often emerging less satisfied and more disgusted with himself, but it was a habit he couldn't break.

Lovino blatantly ignored the warnings he constantly heard from people to be careful with who he associated with on the Internet, and how much personal information he gave out. He was fairly certain that he had broken a great number of these unwritten rules by sharing such personal information—and engaging in such intimate acts—with these people that lived states, countries, and entire oceans away from him. Simply put, he didn't see the danger in associating with people so far away. They were so abstract to him; there was no emotional connection. They were just an outlet for his stress and frustration.

They continued to be separated by a wall of satellite communication until Lovino applied for a job as a clerk at a small grocery store in the summer between his sophomore and junior year. Up to that point in time, Lovino had been starting to feel an urge, and aching urge, to just jump out of his skin and expose his secret. He had spent too many nights locked in his bedroom, hiding everything, everything that he was. He needed to know what it felt like to be with a man. It was all he wanted at this point. And if he couldn't have…him, well, then he'd just have to compensate.

Lovino reflected on the past two years as he stacked cans of stewed tomatoes on the shelf in the canned foods aisle. He easily glided around the memories of him—he couldn't even bring himself to say the man's name anymore—with the skill of much practice. He let a soft sigh escape his lips. He refused to be sentimental in any way, shape, or form.

Just focus on the tomatoes. Stewed tomatoes. Tomatoes…

He tried not to let thoughts of the sweet fruit lead him down any undesired paths of thought, grimacing and focusing on the cold of the metal in his palm. As he carefully placed another can onto the shelf, he had the strange feeling that he was being watched, and expecting to find another idiotic, baffled customer requesting help from him, turned his head stiffly, but his eyes did not meet what he expected.

He saw a young man who looked about as old as him—or at least as tall—standing at the end of the aisle, poking something on the shelf absently, while his light blue gaze through sandy bangs felt upon Lovino, and a slight smile grazed his lips. However, soon after Lovino's slightly confused eyes met the other's, the teenager turned and walked to a different aisle, a mop of sandy blonde hair disappearing around the corner.

Lovino stared after the teen in confusion for a few more seconds, before returning his gaze to the cans he was stacking. People stared at him occasionally when they thought he was weird, but usually not so openly. He had half a mind to follow the stupid boy and slap that dumb smile off of his face. However, although Lovino didn't really like his job, it was the only source of income he had, and he wasn't planning on getting fired any time soon.

He growled under his breath and heaved a sigh, placing the last few cans on the shelf. As he did so his rather portly boss popped his head out from behind one of the shelves, peering into the aisle with his large eyes, the wispy and small amount of hair on his head flying upwards at his movement. His eyes darted around for a moment until they settled on Lovino, and he pointed a round finger at his employee.

"You. Vargas. Are you done?" he asked, in a tone not too authoritative, but not too gentle either.

"Yeah," Lovino answered flatly, letting his arms hang limply at his sides.

"Go to register 11," his boss said, jerking a hand behind him to gesture to the empty station.

"…'kay," Lovino replied quietly, walking slowly over the register, a few impatient customers already trailing behind him and struggling past each other to form a line.

It wasn't too busy that day, but there was only one other cashier working, so it would be expected.

Where the fuck are all those lazy bastards? Lovino thought angrily, not pleased at being forced into the social interaction aspect of his job.

He had checked out about five people and had two remaining when he noted that the store was nearly empty, since it was about half an hour from closing time. He let out a sigh of relief, but scowled when he noticed the sandy-haired boy who had been watching him before standing at the end of the line. To make matters worse, the kid noticed, and turned his head to return the gaze of the 16-year-old cashier, smiling slightly. Lovino's eyebrow twitched in annoyance as he turned back to his current customer.

oOoOo

The whole 'smile-and-ask-"did-you-find-everything-okay?"' routine had never really been something that Lovino opted to do when checking out his customers, and he certainly did not want to do it at the moment, as the teenager with the blonde hair strode up with a kind of self assurance that made various muscles in Lovino's face twitch. He hurriedly and forcefully grabbed the items off of the conveyer belt that the other had placed on, running them through the scanner without a word. He could feel eyes boring into the top of his hanging head.

Just ignore it, Lovino…

A bitingly cocky voice sliced through Lovino's thoughts, however, as the blonde teenager spoke.

"Aren't you going to ask me if I found everything alright?"

Damn, is this jerk a mind reader?

Lovino sighed, lazily lolling his head up, considering the many options of nasty things to say to the kid. Then he took his job into consideration.

"Did you find everything alright?" he asked slowly, through slightly gritted teeth, trying to keep his expression neutral.

The sandy-haired boy laughed, leaning slightly on the side of the conveyer belt.

"Yes," he finally replied, his eyes sparkling with something. "I'm Sam, by the way."

Alright, what does he want?

Lovino cocked a brow in suspicion, before answering, "good for you."

Sam laughed again. Lovino twitched in annoyance. Then Sam tilted his head slightly, reading Lovino's nametag. Shit. He hated those things.

"Nice to meet you…Lovino. Cool, is that Italian or something? I love Italian stuff."

Lovino stood behind the counter quietly; his eyebrow cocked even higher as he stared wordlessly at the teenager and continued to check his items out. There were so many things that he could say, but at the moment he felt that it would just be more beneficial to keep his mouth shut and let this Sam flounder.

Sam rubbed the back of his head nervously, his eyes flitting off to the side briefly before his confidence returned as he set his elbow on the metal ridge near the conveyor belt, resting his chin on his fist so that his face was close enough for Lovino to see his light brown freckles and the pale blue of his eyes.

"So…anyway, the reason I ask is because I think you're pretty cute, and I thought maybe we could go out sometime," Sam said, his voice low and smooth and perfectly rehearsed.

Lovino did a half-assed job of hiding his initial surprise; he had honestly thought that the teen had some plans to make fun of or harass him. And then it occurred to him that it was probably a joke, and his eyebrows furrowed, his mouth pressing into a tight line as he slammed the last item down into a bag.

"That'll be $22.50. Who put you up to this?" he asked simply, pressing the appropriate buttons on the cash register to display the final price.

Sam chuckled lightly. "No one. I'm serious."

Lovino couldn't explain it, but at that moment, rage flared up inside of him.

"What is wrong with you assholes? You think that just because I'm…different you can mess with me? Why won't you just fucking give up already?" he hissed, his hands gripping the metal ridge tightly.

Sam's face was contorted into a dumbfounded expression, until it eventually relaxed back into his 'cool' façade, and he pulled a piece of notebook paper out of his pocket.

"Look, I'm not some ass here to bully you about being gay. I just wanna take you on a date. Call me when you wanna see the other side of things," Sam stated simply, winking and handing him the piece of notebook paper with his number scrawled on it, and twenty-five dollars. "Keep the change."

Lovino stared after the other teen in disbelief as he walked away.

Was that a joke? Was he serious? Does he actually want to go out with me? Wait, how did he even know I was gay? Am I that obvious?

Lovino's head was still spinning when his boss shook him on the shoulder, informing him that it was closing time.

From that point on, it was like a domino effect. After Lovino had finally gathered his courage and called Sam, the young man had explained to him that he knew plenty of gay people that lived near him, and that he would love to show him places to meet up with them. Naturally, Lovino was extremely excited to hear about this; after all, it was what he had wanted for a very long time now. He was also nervous, however, about being discovered. He felt like two opposing forces were ripping away from each other inside of him; on one side, he did want to be open, and love whomever he wanted, but on the other side, he was afraid of the consequences, and what people would think, and how he would be treated.

By the time Lovino was 17, and almost halfway through his Junior year of high school, he led an entirely separate secret life that almost no one knew about, one where he snuck into clubs, went to late night parties out of state, and made out with strangers in alleyways. He was ashamed of himself, and yet, too addicted to quit. Lovino knew the path he was heading down was a dangerous one, but couldn't find one legitimate reason to stop. His parents either didn't notice or didn't care, he had no real friends, and the man he desperately loved would never love him back. That was when everything took a turn for the worse.

Being young, and generally reclusive, Lovino didn't have much sexual experience. However, when he started attending parties and clubs more regularly, that all changed. He still considered himself a virgin, but that didn't mean that he hadn't done some exploring. He had grinded and dry-humped on dance floors and in dingy bathrooms at nightclubs, and had given and received hand jobs from people he barely knew. He had made out with one guy for five minutes, and then switched to another immediately after. He wasn't proud of it, but damn, it felt good to get rid of all that sexual frustration.

Although Lovino did engage in a lot of things that got him dangerously close to getting caught several times, he was smart, and made sure that whatever he did, he did far away from home. However, as time went on, he began to become more comfortable, and let down his guard a lot more often than he had previously.

Lovino thought about this as he stood still in the miserable early April air, holding a small mobile phone up to his ear gingerly.

On the other line was a boy named Keith, whom he had met half a week earlier at a nightclub one of Sam's friends had snuck him into. The teenager was relatively attractive, at least in the generic 'blonde-hair-and-brown-eyes' way, and had made it very clear that he was interested in Lovino. They had, however, been interrupted before they could mess around in the back of the nightclub; his ride had decided that he wanted to leave immediately, and Lovino hadn't had much of a choice but to follow him. He had given Keith his number, not thinking much of it, and now the other wanted to meet up and 'finish what they started'. Normally this wouldn't be a problem for Lovino; a little fooling around that could perhaps end up in him receiving a little sexual favor from the desperate teenager didn't sound too bad, but it was what Keith said next that caused his current dilemma.

"Can we go to your house?"

It was a simple phrase, but it was one that Lovino rarely heard. He usually veered the topic away from that particular question, because of course, it was a bad idea to have anyone, let alone a gay teenager, come over to his house. Normally he would have just spat out a hasty 'no', with a tone that implied that there were no exceptions to that monosyllabic answer. However, before going with his autopilot response, Lovino quickly considered it. His parents were leaving for an important dinner with some of his father's coworkers at eight. He knew they couldn't possibly be home before eleven. They never were; he had witnessed it enough. Feliciano was staying over at a friend's house, so Lovino knew his younger brother wouldn't be there to interfere. When he thought about it, he realized that there wasn't much of a reason they couldn't just get together at his house. Still, a nagging feeling in the back of his mind warned him that it wasn't a good idea, and that something was bound to go wrong. Regardless, he was tired of not following through on anything simply because of his fears of being discovered. Swallowing slightly and with just the slightest hint of well-disguised regret, Lovino spoke into the phone.

"…Alright. Fine. When do you wanna come over?"

"How about 8:30?" Keith asked, his voice filled with static from the bad reception.

"Yeah, okay. See you then."

"Seeya."

It was after the click of the line going dead that Lovino felt a sudden rush of rebellion wash over him; he was going to make out with a guy, on the white leather and cherry wood sofas in the ridiculously grandiose living room, and there was not a damned thing his parents could do about it.

oOoOo

Lovino walked slowly to answer the doorbell, his feet feeling heavier with each step. When he opened the door, he barely spared Keith a passing glance before gesturing lazily for him to come in.

The blonde teenager, who had been leaning against the doorframe, walked into the house, letting out occasional 'oh's and 'ah's, as guests of the Vargas house usually did. Lovino ignored the gawking blonde, walking silently over to the white couch and sitting gingerly on the edge. He placed his elbow on the armrest and brought a slim index finger upwards to tap on his lower lip, which wore a dark smirk.

Eventually Keith caught the bait, his eyes slipping from the elaborate border on the walls to Lovino situated on the couch. He leaned back nonchalantly on the wall opposite Lovino, crossing his arms and narrowing his eyes at the other boy as a slight smirk of his own grew on his cheekbones.

"So…" Lovino began, his eyes flitting to the side briefly in faux shyness. "You wanna watch a movie or something?"

Keith's smirk widened into a full-out grin, and he dropped his arms and stepped forward as he answered.

"No."

"Good, me neither," Lovino replied, staring the other boy down with his caramel-colored eyes.

He followed Keith with those eyes as the teen slowly crossed the room, and eventually came to sit beside him. After a few moments of thoughtful silence, he leaned in close to Lovino and whispered in his ear.

"But I can think of something else we can do."

Lovino maintained a small smile on his lips, but otherwise did not react, and watched curiously as Keith pulled back, wearing a mischievous grin. Placing his palm on Lovino's cheek, Keith smashed their mouths together, his working hungrily against the other's. Lovino kissed back slowly, and focused on the methodical action, instead of trying to get any sort of reaction from himself, because he knew he wouldn't.

Unless…No, he wasn't going to think about that. He was sitting on the couch, in his living room, kissing Keith. That was all there was to it.

But…

As time wore on the kiss became more intense—the two teens shedding clothing and Keith climbing on top of Lovino—and his resolve began to crumble. He couldn't help but let his mind wander…He closed his eyes tightly. He imagined Keith's blonde hair was dark brown, and his muddy eyes were bright bottle green, reflecting all the light in the room. He imagined the other's pale skin was dark and smooth, and that the hands trailing up and down his stomach were larger and gentler, like the ones he knew so well…And finally, he allowed himself to imagine that the weight on top of him was…Antonio's.

He felt a tremor run through his body, racking him powerfully. He heard Keith snicker above him, and thought, if only he knew. He threw his head back against the couch, moaning as he felt lips against his neck that he pretended belonged to Antonio. His eyes fluttered open slightly to gaze cloudily at Keith, who had his own shirt off and his hands on Lovino's belt. His eyes slipped closed again as he waited, breath a bit short in anticipation. When nothing happened he opened one eye and a scowl crossed his face in annoyance.

"Well?" he asked impatiently, crossing his arms regardless of the fact that he was on his back under someone else and it looked rather ridiculous.

Keith looked embarrassed as he rubbed the back of his neck and flushed.

"Well, I…guess I was just…" Keith paused, his eyes flitting to the side, before mumbling the end of his sentence. "Waiting for permission?"

Lovino growled in annoyance, rolling his eyes. Reaching forward, he grabbed Keith's crotch and squeezed hard, staring straight into the teen's eyes.

"How's that for permission?" he asked acidly, a cold smirk on his lips as the other boy floundered; his head tipped back in ecstasy as a moan ripped from his parted lips.

"Th-that's good!" the flustered boy finally managed, his hands quickly moving to fumble with the belt.

Lovino leaned forward, roughly pulling at the back of the other's head and looping his arms around his neck and kissing him. He felt Keith's fingers dancing lightly over the front of his jeans, and sighed quietly into the other's mouth. He started to trail his hands down the other's back and was about to reach for his crotch again when he heard a noise that stopped his heart.

Click.

It was the front door. It was in full view of the living room.

He heard his father's voice, but it sounded far off, as if filtered and processed.

He heard the pounding of his own heart, which had contracted painfully in his own chest.

He felt his stomach drop to his feet and his breath get caught halfway through his lungs.

His father's voice rolled in through the open air as he spoke to Lovino's mother.

"…was such an important dinner, you'd think they would've called earlier to say it was cancelled, and-"

Finally, regaining his senses in an excruciating rush of feeling, Lovino shoved Keith off of him as hard as he could, hurriedly putting his belt back on as he felt pinpricks of fear stab his brain and hands, highly affecting his motor skills.

It was too late, though, his parents had already seen everything.

Lovino could only swallow in horror as the moment passed in slow motion; Keith slowly turning his head from the spot where he had fallen on the floor, Lovino's mother bringing her delicate manicured hands up to cover her mouth in disbelief, and his father's face contorting first into shock, and then into the most furious and rage-filled expression Lovino had ever seen before. It was like the quiet before the worst storm in history.

And then it all blew up.

"WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE?" Mr. Vargas screamed, his hands flying to his sides as he stomped into the living room.

His eyes bulged out of his head and his mouth was open like some kind of feral animal. Lovino had never been so terrified of his father in his life.

"I c-can expl-" Lovino started, but was cut off as his father stormed across the room with frightening speed and grabbed Keith by the collar of his now inside-out shirt that had been put on in great haste.

"Who the fuck are you?" he bellowed in Keith's face, filling the once silent room with the sound of his demanding shouts.

"I-I'm K-Keith, sir, I-"

"Get the fuck out of my house! Now!"

Keith's ridiculous scrambling and tripping from the floor to the front door would have made Lovino laugh, had he not been so petrified in fear. Lovino's father spun to face him as the front door slammed shut, his eyes narrowed and insane with rage. Lovino felt cold with terror.

"You." His father spat, and Lovino tried to keep his breathing steady; subconsciously backed up deep into the cushions of the couch, his hands spread out on either side of him, as if supporting himself. "You're a fag!"

Lovino felt his heart constrict painfully in his chest.

"I should've known! You were always such a goddamn problem child!" Mr. Vargas' tone grew in pitch as he continued, now stomping towards his son. "HOW DARE YOU BRING YOUR…GAYNESS INTO THIS HOUSE. WHAT YOU WERE DOING WAS UNHOLY!"

"Dad, I-" Lovino began, but found that anything he had to say was stuck in his throat like glue.

His father's eyes flashed, and his voice dropped to a dangerously low pitch.

"Don't you dare call me your father," he spat, grabbing Lovino roughly by the shoulders and yanking him up, causing the teenager to bite down hard on his lip to stifle a yelp of pain. "You are NO SON OF MINE!"

At that moment, Lovino assuredly felt his heart burst inside his chest.

So many years of embarrassment, shame, loathing, and hiding; He was done with everything. Suddenly, he felt a wave of courage surge through him.

Frowning, he shoved his father away with all the strength he could muster, glaring spitefully at the man.

"And you are no father of mine, you bigoted, idiotic bastard. I hate you!" He yelled, adjusting himself into a defensive stance, his eyes flashing with hatred.

He heard his mother gasp from across the room, but his eyes remained steady. She was no threat to him. He didn't give a shit what happened to the bitch. His father, however…

"How…how dare you speak to me like that, you ungrateful, sinning SWINE!" the older man roared, throwing his body at his son and punching him in the jaw so soundly that Lovino fell to the ground.

Lovino cried out in pain, his eyes angry slits leaking tears as he cradled his jaw.

"Sergio…" he heard his mother call softly and timidly, sounding foreign in comparison to her normally shrill voice.

Lovino's father ignored her, stepping towards his injured son, and delivering a swift kick to his stomach. Lovino gasped, the air forced out of his lungs. He moaned in pain, curling in on himself and squeezing his eyes shut as a small amount of blood dribbled down his chin from the corner of his lips.

He heard his mother weeping softly by the doorway as his father uttered his final words to his son.

"Get out of my house," he said flatly, already starting to leave the room and not even sparing the bleeding boy a second glance. "And don't ever come back."

Every part of Lovino hurt, especially his jaw, but his pride wouldn't allow him to just lie on the floor. Gathering all his strength he slowly pushed himself up, biting his lip to stifle his cries of pain. When he reached his feet he swayed slightly, and then staggered towards the door. He grabbed his messenger bag off of the coat rack and swung it lazily over his shoulder. He opened the door wide, letting it slam against the wall, and before he stepped out, he looked his father in the eye—or at least, tried to—and spit his blood and saliva onto the floor.

Then he slammed the door, and stepped out into the chilly April air.

oOoOo

Lovino had lost track of time, but assumed it had been about an hour since he had started walking. He felt unsteady on his feet, and knew he needed to stop soon, but continued stubbornly pressing on just to get as far away from his house as he possibly could. He didn't really know where he was walking, and had already passed the old grocery market where he worked. He hadn't ever really ventured so far, but he didn't care anymore. However, the sun was beginning to go down, and he gave in as he came across an abandoned old playground near a highway exit. Spotting a relatively structurally sound park bench sitting near a fence, he hobbled towards it, collapsing on the unforgiving wood and groaning slightly.

He hadn't been sitting there, staring solemnly at the rusty old swingset for more than 5 minutes when he felt the first icy cold drop of rain hit the bridge of his nose and run down his face. Cursing silently to himself, he stared up at the darkening sky and frowned as few more scattered drops hit his shoulders and face. The sky was already dark because the sun had gone down, and the ominous rain clouds that rolled in shrouded the entire park in darkness. Blinking his eyes wearily, Lovino laid his head down on the bench, feeling the hard wood press uncomfortably against his shoulders.

Fuck my life. Fuck this. I could die right now, I really could. God owes me at least a mercy killing, he thought, his eyelids drooping heavily.

No. No!

Why should he be upset? He was finally free. He would not just lie there pathetically on the bench in the rain, and get hypothermia, and die a pathetic, nameless death. He yanked his messenger back out from underneath him weakly, his hands fumbling around on the wet fabric to get it open and rummage around for his phone. After a few minutes he found it, pulling it out and wrapping his fingers around the cool plastic.

He felt as though he didn't have enough energy to do more, but he knew he had to. Slowly sliding the phone open he began to go through his contacts. Who could he call? Who would come pick him up, and possibly let him stay with them for a prolonged amount of time?

One name in particular stood out to him, but he refused to acknowledge it, shoving it to the back of his mind.

He stopped scrolling briefly when he saw Elizaveta's name. Funny, kind, smart Elizaveta; she was one of the best friends he had ever had, and he had managed to ruin it. She probably wouldn't appreciate him calling her to come pick him up in the rain at 10 o'clock at night.

What about Sam? Lovino's heart gave a hopeful leap. So, the kid was kind of a douchebag, but he would look out for Lovino if he really needed it. At least, he assumed so. He quickly called the other boy, holding the phone close to his wet ear and murmuring a mantra of 'pick up, pick up!' into the receiver. He scowled heavily when the voicemail clicked on, pressing the end call button and swearing at the phone.

He had very few contacts in his phone, and the rest of them were people like Keith, people that didn't care enough to come and get him.

Well, except for one.

But Lovino couldn't bring himself to call…him. It had been almost a year since he'd last talked to him, and he had no idea what he would say. But when it came right down to it, Lovino knew that Antonio was his only hope.

He may not love me like I love him, but I know he cares about me…or at least, he used to.

Lovino swallowed a bit, his throat dry and aching.

"I really don't have a choice, do I?" Lovino said to himself, his voice sounding rough and weak.

The rain pounded down on the black tar of the highway in reply.

Letting out a shaky breath that he hadn't even realized he was holding, Lovino called Antonio, slowly bringing the phone up to his ear. As it began to ring, he half-hoped that the other wouldn't pick up.

One, two, three times it rang, until Lovino heard the click of the phone being picked up, and his heart jumped weakly and hopefully in his chest, like a trapped butterfly with a broken wing finally seeing the light.

And then he heard that voice. The voice he had been missing for so long, the voice he had been denying to himself that he needed for so long.

"Hullo?" Antonio's voice said from the other end, sounding tired and filled with static.

Lovino's breath briefly caught in his throat, and he felt tears threaten to fall in the corners of his eyes.

Finally, he managed to choke out a reply, a small smile working its way across his face.

"Hello, Antonio? This is…this is Lovino."

I'm not a big fan of angst, but this chapter has been written and rewritten so many times in my head...and this works out perfectly for the rest of the story. I promise this is the angstiest chapter.

And I know there's not much romantic shit in this chapter, but in terms of time actually spent writing, this chapter took me the longest, because there's a lot of important stuff that needs to be explained, and there was a lot of thinking out I had to do. So, I hope you enjoy it. There will probably be two more chapters until the end of the story.