Voilà.

Oranges. And snow. Oranges and snow, and…caramel-colored hair.

How peculiar, Antonio thought, his mind still struggling out of the cobwebs of sleep as he stretched his stiff shoulders and rolled over in his cotton sheets.

That was what he had been dreaming about; strangely, the dream was concrete enough for him to smell the citrus tang of the oranges and feel the bite of the dry, frozen air against his cheeks, but the perception itself came in short, blurry spurts of sound and color: bright orange against grey and white, occasionally coming into focus with caramel strands of hair and a matching set of eyes.

But never mind that, he was awake now, and was becoming increasingly aware of the source of his nearly-full consciousness, which was his phone playing a shrill, preset melody into the dark and empty room.

As a tanned arm emerged from the cocoon of sheets and the attached appendages flopped around determinedly like a trout on a wooden dock, Antonio thought several different things in his post-sleep haze.

What time was it, because his college-intuitive senses told him it was somewhere in the neighborhood of midnight to three in the morning.

His second thought, immediately following the first and somewhat interconnected with the aforementioned, was: Who in God, Buddha, or any other deity's name would be calling at such an ungodly hour? He hardly got enough sleep as it was.

The final thought that came to him while he was still shrouded in the darkness of his sheets was the answer to his previous question, which he assumed was a Frenchman, a German, or a drunken combination of the two.

For that reason, and several others, he found himself in quite a state of shock when he held up the small cellular device to his face, squinting, and observed the name on the caller ID.

At first he didn't believe it, because of all the people in the world to call him, especially at-

Wait, it's 10 o'clock at night? When did I go to sleep? Antonio suddenly panicked, flailing around in his sheets and bolting up.

The phone rang once more, insistently, and Antonio stared at it again, as if willing the name and number to change. But they didn't, and the phone continued to ring.

And so, being Antonio Carriedo, he answered it.

He found his throat dry from sleep and perhaps something else, and cleared it before rasping out a greeting into the receiver.

"Hullo?"

He honestly had no idea what to expect. Out of the all the scenarios he had had a chance to run through his head in the matter of about 10 seconds when he had first seen the caller ID—which was, surprisingly, a lot—he had had one independent variable in his potential equation, and that was that no matter what state Lovino was in, or no matter what he had to say, he would still sound like Lovino Vargas. Antonio couldn't have been any more wrong.

The voice that answered on the other end of the phone hardly sounded like the Lovino Vargas that Antonio knew at all. The Lovino Antonio knew had a sort of constant fire that stood as a backlight to everything he said, igniting every syllable with the excitement and passion that simply existed within the teenager. There was always assertion in his tone, enough that it bordered on self-assuredness, but in a way it was endearing.

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

This was not the voice of Lovino Vargas. It was feeble, quiet, trembling, and afraid. It was a voice that sounded defeated, like the world had broken its legs and beat it with its own crutches. It was a voice that had a sad, bitter humor to it, one completely void of hope and persistence. And then, Antonio realized, with a sick jolt of his heart down to the pits of his stomach, this was Lovino's voice.

And that was the worst part.

"Lovino…Uh…Wow. It's been…Hi! I mean, sorry. Are you…are you okay?" Antonio sputtered groggily once he had finally regained his senses, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes and hunching over, yawning several times.

Lovino let out a sort of hollow chuckle in reply, only confirming Antonio's fears and sending a pang of anxiety down to his upset stomach.

"Um. I'm…" he let out a long sigh, slightly distorted by the crackling of the phone line and what sounded like the incessant tap-dancing of heavy rain on pavement. "No, I'm really not. And I'm sorry it's taken me so long to say this, I've been such a coward."

Antonio felt like something was lodged in his throat, and his eyes widened. How long had it been since Lovino had called him? One year? Two?

"Lovino?" he said softly after clearing his throat, urging the teen to go on.

"I…" Lovino started, his voice wavering like he was on the verge of tears. "Antonio, I screwed up so bad. I really did."

Antonio clung tightly to the phone, as if Lovino would slip away if his grip loosened.

"I'm so sorry I haven't called. I'm so sorry I'm calling now, you must think I'm such a dick-"

"No!" Antonio cried instantly, interrupting the other as he felt his heart swell with sadness and frustration. "Lovino, what's going on? What's wrong?"

"I…" Lovino paused again, and Antonio could practically picture him biting down on his lip in concentration. "I got kicked out…of the house. My dad, I mean. He kicked me out…he…found out I'm gay."

If Antonio hadn't known what to feel before, it was nothing compared to this moment.

At first he felt a sort of aching, agonizing emptiness that morphed into a horrible sadness, and then he saw it. The little spark of light, the one that always flickered on when he became so frustrated. And that little spark grew, and grew larger and larger until it burned painfully in his chest; the most rage he had ever felt in his life was burning inside of him, and he wanted to scream.

That disgusting pig, that horrible man. He should've known that it was going to happen.

"Oh my…Dios mío…Lovino. I'm so sorry. Qué horrible!" Antonio stared at his sheets, angry tears burning at the corners of his eyes.

"Where are you?" he demanded suddenly, already jumping out of bed and switching on his lamp. "Lovino, where are you? Are you safe? Are you hurt?"

He suddenly became more aware of the sound of the heavy rain and cars rushing by. His heart raced as he struggled into an old pair of jeans crumpled on the floor and threw on a t-shirt hanging over his desk lamp.

"Lovino! Hello?" he cried frantically into the phone, cradling it between his shoulder and cheek as he hurriedly dressed himself.

"I'm…I'm so sorry Antonio." He said weakly, his voice trailing off as he spoke the other's name.

Antonio's eyes widened.

"No, no…no Lovino, stay with me. Stay with me, hermano. You need to tell me where you are. I'm going to come get you. Tell me where you are, Lovino!"

"I…at a playground…past…the old grocery store…near a….a…highway." Lovino gasped a little for breath after sputtering out the muddled sentence, his breathing sounding short and erratic.

"All right, all right. All right." Antonio chanted to himself, almost like a mantra, as he snatched his keys off of his small beside table. "Are you hurt?"

Lovino paused, as if to say something, and then let out a short, shaky breath. He hardly needed to answer for Antonio to know the truth.

Antonio felt a wave of ferocious anger wash over him that made him double over, feeling nauseated. Whoever had hurt Lovino…they were going to pay.

"Okay. Okay, Lovino. I need you to stay exactly where you are, okay? Don't move. I'm going to come and get you. It's going to be okay." Antonio stopped briefly. It felt as if he wanted to say more, another word of assurance, but what could he say that wouldn't just be redundant? He was wasting time staying on the phone in his apartment when Lovino could be suffering from hypothermia in the dark at some abandoned park.

He settled on a simple goodbye, and rushed from his apartment, untied shoelaces fluttering behind him.

oOoOo

Antonio's heart raced and his stomach lurched as he raced down the fairly deserted highway in his battered Ford Focus.

All the while his thoughts raced alongside him, whizzing through his subconscious like angry, stinging sweat bees. The dizzying feel of anxiety and guilt continually bombarded him. He knew he should've tried harder to contact Lovino. The poor guy had no one else to talk to, and he'd practically abandoned him. Sure, Lovino had become more distant, but he shouldn't have given up. As far as he knew, he was the only one who Lovino could depend on, and he let him down.

It was his fault, all his fault.

Antonio felt sudden tears threaten at the corners of his eyes as he was gripped with fear; how badly was Lovino hurt? He pictured the teen, curled up on the ground, his frail form not even shivering with any signs of life, his face pale, his delicate eyelids closed forever.

He found himself gasping, wet, hot tears sliding down his cheeks.

No, no. He would not allow himself to think those thoughts! Lovino was going to be okay, he was going to come and get him. He had promised. And he would keep his promise.

Antonio squinted out of his window shield, struggling to see anything in the pitch blackness and heavy rain, his only defense being his beating window shield wipers and feeble high beams.

He knew of the grocery store Lovino had mentioned; it was the one he had told Antonio he worked at. Antonio was just following the direction he would to go toward town; he had never recalled passing any playground, but then again, he had never visited town—another thing he felt guilty about—after he had moved into his small apartment.

Antonio had moved in at the start of the previous year, his double shift jobs finally paying enough for him to buy a small, shitty apartment and commute so he could still attend classes. It wasn't that he didn't love his best friends, but the dorm life was painstakingly repetitive, and in that respect, loud. He understood Gilbert and Francis' insatiable lust for sex and partying, but surprisingly enough, Antonio was actually attending college to learn. He wanted to become a teacher.

The apartment wasn't much; it was small, quiet. To most it would be cramped, low-quality, and hardly suitable, but for Antonio it granted him just the right amount of solace, and he never had cared all that much about the size or quality of a house. Just as long as it suited his needs…

And one of those—maybe subconsciously, and maybe not—was to be closer to town. If he had been on campus when Lovino called, it would've taken him several hours to reach him. He was incredibly lucky.

Just when Antonio was beginning to lose hope, a seemingly nothing-filled terrain stretching on before him in the dark, something bounced the light of the high beams back at him. Antonio leaned forward, focusing on a metal pole emitting a dull shine, and then two, in the shape of a triangle, zooming towards him, growing larger, and then it occurred to him. It was a swing set.

Antonio slammed on the brakes instinctively, highly regretting it as he felt his body lurch forward, the seatbelt cutting sharply into his left shoulder and right hip. Groaning slightly, he turned into the playground, quickly putting the vehicle in park but leaving the headlights on. He struggled out of the car, leaving the door ajar behind him as he whipped his head around wildly, taking a few steps here and there as his eyes searched the edges of the dome of light cast by his headlights.

His heart beat wildly in his chest.

Nothing. There was nothing. Just a swing set. Just a rusty old slide. Just a skeleton of some long-forgotten jungle gym.

What other park could it be? How many abandoned roadside playgrounds could possibly exist in walking distance from Lovino's home town?

And then he saw it, a form he could've easily missed, skipped over with his frantic eyes and driven off without. It was just the measly outline, but as his eyes adjusted in the dark and pelting rain that was quickly soaking him through his thin t-shirt, it became clearer.

Antonio felt his breath catch in his throat as his eyes fell upon a thin, small, form curled up on a bench about 30 or so yards away. He broke out into a sudden sprint, almost tripping over himself in his haste to reach the huddled form.

Antonio gasped, his knees nearly buckling underneath him as he came across the sight of his friend. He fought the tears that were aching against his throat and eyes as he dropped to his knees next to the teenager, shaking hands reaching up to hold his cold, wet face.

Lovino was much thinner than he remembered; he could tell even through the hoodie that the teen was wearing, which was currently plastered to his skin. His face was pale, and there were dark circles beneath his eyes. Rainwater clung to his eyelashes and dripped delicately onto his cheeks, trailing down them like fresh tears.

He was shivering slightly, releasing small, uneven breaths, but he didn't appear to be awake.

"L-Lovino…oh God…" Antonio's voice came out as more of a ragged sob than he had planned, his hands shaking as he cupped Lovino's face, trembling at how chilled it was.

Clearing his throat and trying to regain his composure, he moved his hands to the teen's shoulders, shaking gently at first, and then with a bit more force, attempting to prop the other up as he did so.

A small groan of displeasure made its way past Lovino's parted lips, and Antonio's heart leapt. He let out a relieved cry, throwing his arms around the slowly awakening brunette.

"Wha…who…Antonio?" he heard the smaller teenager question weakly from beneath him, his shaking hands weakly making their way to Antonio's shoulders.

Antonio pulled back, a cheesy grin crossing his worried face.

"It's okay, it's okay Lovino. I'm here. You're gonna be fine." Antonio whispered, putting his hands on the sides of Lovino's face.

Lovino let out a hiss of pain in response, jerking back automatically as his eyes slid closed. Antonio was about to question his reaction when he began to notice details he had missed before in his panicked stupor.

Lovino's left cheek was slightly swollen, warmer to the touch than the rest of his face, and darkening into a large bruise. There was a small dribble of blood starting out of the corner of his lips, as well as the nearly washed away track from an old one, and some red stains visible on the white t-shirt peeking out from his sweatshirt.

Antonio felt the rage flare inside him…but no, he couldn't; he needed to get Lovino safe.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry Lovino. But I need to get you out of here. I have to-" Antonio started, lifting the other into a sitting position by grabbing him under his arms, heaving the other up as gingerly as he could.

Lovino groaned slightly, his head lolling forward as he tried, uselessly, to help.

"Do you…do you think you can walk?" Antonio asked cautiously, applying more pressure to Lovino's armpits to gently help him stand up.

"Of course…I can…walk, y'idiot…" Lovino mumbled, batting flimsily at Antonio's hands and darting up in one swift motion, only to sway once and then unceremoniously fall towards the ground, had he not been caught by Antonio's arms which were still position beneath his.

Antonio's eyes were full of sympathy and regret, he couldn't even smile at Lovino's small attempt at humor; he had so many emotions coursing through him that the overwhelming situation seemed enough to shut his brain down.

"Okay…I need you to relax, I'm gonna carry you to the car." Antonio's voice was weak, but he managed to lock eyes, if only for a brief second, with the loopy teenager he was holding.

Lovino looked like he wanted to resist, but knew he hadn't the physical strength to do so, so instead he wrapped his arms shakily around the taller teen's neck, letting the rest of his body go limp.

Antonio slid his arms down to Lovino's waist, wrapping them around his back and starting to pull upwards when suddenly Lovino twisted away, letting out an agonized cry of pain, his eyes squeezed shut and his teeth clenched. Antonio floundered in confusion, his eyes wide.

"'S…nothing…side...h-hurts. Sorry." Lovino mumbled, his eyes still shut tight.

Antonio shivered, the cold rain had him soaking wet and frigid water was pooling on his collarbone and face. Thinking for a second, he dipped his arm down to lay against the back of Lovino's knees, using the other to cradle his back, and gently lifted the teen up in a sort of bridal carry.

Lovino seemed too out of it to really notice, (otherwise he probably would've thrown a fit) and shivered quietly, subconsciously curling in towards Antonio for body heat.

Antonio tightened his arms protectively around Lovino; he looked like an adorable, defenseless little kid again. Antonio would do everything in his power to protect him.

When Antonio reached the car he struggled slightly with the slippery door handle, eventually prying it open and gently laying Lovino's soaked body on the passenger's seat. He quickly shut the door and ran to the driver's side, diving in and blasting the heater up as high as it would go. Despite the fact that his fingers were nearly going numb, he turned all the vents on Lovino; who knew how long he'd been out there? Half an hour? An hour? Two hours? He could've died.

He might still die if I don't get him warm enough soon, Antonio suddenly thought, frantically switching into reverse and exiting the empty playground.

The entire drive there was spent with Antonio recklessly taking his eyes off the dangerous road several times to stare concernedly at the motionless Lovino. The teen's wet hair moved slightly from the warm breeze of the vent, but that was the only movement that Antonio could observe, other than the increasingly steady rhythm of his chest as he breathed.

That, at least, was a relief.

The rain hadn't let up in the slightest when they arrived at Antonio's apartment complex, and he could barely see as he stumbled through the rain and darkness of the parking lot, still clutching Lovino to his chest protectively, occasionally muttering quiet phrases of assurance, even if they were partly for himself.

Antonio had never been so happy that he lived on the first floor—it sucked the majority of the time, what with all the sound from upstairs, and the constant opening and closing of the major entry—which meant that he would not be carrying a limp teen up the stairs anytime soon.

Once he had managed to get into his apartment and turn the lights on, Antonio let out a sigh of relief as he lay the shivering and now slightly conscious brunette onto his bed. His lips had a blue tint to them, and his skin was very pale, Antonio observed.

"Oh no…oh no, oh no! Hypothermia…oh my God…okay. Okay. What do I do? A warm bath…no! Don't apply direct heat, that's not right…" Antonio paced around the room frantically, grabbing his head as he tried to recall his first aid class from so many years ago.

"Okay, wet clothes." Antonio raced to his small dresser, pulling out the warmest sweats he had, a pair of clean boxers, and socks and tossing them onto the bed, before walking over to where Lovino was laying and kneeling before him.

"Lovino…Lovino, amor-" Lovino stirred slightly, opening one lazy eyelid to gaze hazily at his former caretaker.

Antonio wasn't sure where the pet name had come from, but now was not the time to ponder such things.

"You need to take these clothes off. They're wet, and you're cold, and I think you might be getting hypothermia."

Antonio kept his voice controlled and calm, but nonetheless Lovino reacted as he'd expected, flailing his arms weakly and forcing his drooping eyelids open as he backed away from Antonio to the best of his ability.

"N-no…just…lemme…." Lovino whined, his voice trailing off and his words barely comprehensible through his chattering teeth and swollen lips and jaw. "sleep."

The way Lovino whispered the last word made Antonio's heart ache, and he put a hand softly to the other's cheek.

"It won't take long. I promised you I was gonna make everything better. And I will. You just have to trust me."

Lovino managed to open one of his eyes once more, and stared Antonio straight in his.

"I do."

The words were said with such conviction, such strength, that Antonio felt a rush of warmth in his chest, maybe from the familiarity of the determined voice, or perhaps from the clarity of those caramel eyes that locked with his.

So those were the eyes I dreamt of…of course, Lovino.

Antonio's mind began to drift back to that day, in the snow, with Lovino, and the oranges…He snapped back into reality immediately after, however, and began to unzip Lovino's jacket.

Now was no time to let his mind wander.

Lovino was already starting to drift off again, but this time with his teeth chattering violently. Antonio gently lifted his back off of the bedspread to peel the wet jacket off, tossing it behind him on a chair to dry. He winced when he saw the diffused blood stains on Lovino's white t-shirt, and carefully pulled the wet fabric up over his head.

He gasped as he took in the expanse of the teenager's torso, perfect, smooth, and unmarred skin, until it reached his right side, which was already covered in ugly yellow, purple, and black bruises, the skin broken in some places.

Antonio's face was contorted in horror as he gently ran his fingers over Lovino's ribs, taking in the true frailty of the poor, wonderful teenager.

Lovino twitched slightly under his touch, and Antonio realized he was shivering even harder, his breath sounding hitched and difficult.

Quickly and carefully, Antonio began to undo the button on Lovino's jeans, pulling down the zipper and starting to tug them off his hips. He looked up at the other's slightly flushed face, his breath coming in short wisps and gasps, and for a moment felt a foreign feeling that stopped his hands where they were. Well, it was a lie, he knew what the feeling was, but shoved it out of his mind as soon as it came, berating himself for thinking of anything other than Lovino's wellbeing at the present time.

Being as gentle as possible, Antonio began to strip the tightly-sewn fabric from Lovino's cold damp legs; the task was nearly impossible, seeing as it was already hard enough to take another guy's skinnies off without him being wet as well. (He should know—although he probably wouldn't admit it if asked)

Once he had finally finished peeling off Lovino's jeans, out of courtesy and sympathy, Antonio slipped the slightly large sweater over the shivering teen's head before removing his final garment. Again, being polite, Antonio looked away after shedding Lovino's underwear—he was sure the feisty teenager would have resisted, had he not been completely passed out—and quickly slipped the dry boxers onto his skinny hips, trying to avert his mind from staring at the wonderful shape of those hips, and the smooth thighs that jutted out beneath them.

After putting the sweat pants and socks on the younger teenager, Antonio picked him up and carefully moved him to the other, drier side of the bed, covering the still shivering teenager in sheets, and quickly going in search of his apartment for heavier blankets. After searching for a few minutes, he found some old woven blankets passed down from his bisabuela that his parents had sent with him to college. Running over to his bed he laid them over Lovino, tucking them in at the sides for good measure. Then he switched off the lights and plopped down cross-legged on the floor, grabbing his laptop and switching it on.

Once the desktop appeared and bathed Antonio's face in its familiar blue glow, it began to load the applications slowly. He drummed his fingers impatiently against the floor as he waited.

When the laptop was finally usable, he quickly pulled up a search engine and typed in, 'What do to if someone has hypothermia'.

He scrolled through a couple websites; most of them suggested to do just what he had done, along with body heat.

Well, he had promised he would make it better…and if it meant saving Lovino…

He began to climb onto the bed when he suddenly realized with discomfort that he was still in his soaking wet clothing. Sighing with exasperation, he quickly stripped down in the darkness and pulled on the pair of pajama pants he had been wearing previously.

He cautiously returned to the still somewhat-damp bed, climbing on gingerly and laying on his side next to Lovino. Carefully and slowly, he wrapped his arms around the teenager, pressing his torso to the now warming body near his own. He relaxed slightly when he realized Lovino was fast asleep, and wrapped his arms further around the other, tugging the teenager closer to him.

Lovino tensed slightly, and Antonio loosened his grip, afraid that he was intruding on Lovino's personal space. Lovino seemed to mutter something incomprehensible, before surprising Antonio by rolling over to face the older teenager and snuggling into his chest, curling up easily into the small space between them and nuzzling his face into his friend's chest.

Antonio lay perfectly still for at least a minute, trying to block out the thoughts that were swirling around his head at one hundred miles per hour.

And then, in a sudden instant, he didn't.

He let those thoughts flood his mind. He thought about how nice it felt to have Lovino's body against his own, and he thought about how wonderful it felt to feel both the gentle and sharp curves of Lovino's facial features against the sensitive skin on his chest. He thought about how soft Lovino's hair felt under his fingers as his hand reached up subconsciously to stroke it, and he thought about how exquisite the warm breath on his collarbone felt, and the slight shivers it sent up his spine.

And then suddenly, he realized with a start, he had wanted this for a while now. His body sort of collapsed when he pondered this; in an attempt to keep his own thoughts from sounding terribly trite inside his head, he couldn't help but admit that everything felt just right, and the curve of Lovino's body fit his just right, and the smell of rain and the texture of the scratchy woven blankets and the silky smooth strands of hair in his fingers and his arms wrapped around a wonderful, warm, living, breathing person felt just right.

Those were his last thoughts before he drifted off to sleep, but not before placing a gentle kiss to the top of Lovino's head.

oOoOo

Antonio dreamt of the day in the snow with the oranges again, but this time it was much more lucid.

He remembered what had inspired it. It was a snow day, years ago, back when Lovino was still in 8th grade. He had taken him and Feliciano out to the park, bathed in white fluff and glowing with the sort of radiance that only winter could bring.

Antonio had brought a paper bag, and in that bag were oranges for them to eat when they got hungry. He said to Lovino that he hadn't thought about it much, he had just grabbed them.

Lovino had laughed and said it reminded him of a poem called "Oranges", one that they'd read in English class. Antonio vaguely remembered it as well. A boy, with two oranges, buying chocolate for his love, in December.

Lovino had made a comment about him liking oranges better than chocolate anyway, and they had laughed, and had eaten them.

Everything else was just a concrete memory, like a short film or a series of photographs. He remembered the brilliant orange of the fruit, and he remembered how exquisitely rich the caramel color of Lovino's hair and the bright shine of his eyes were against the bright white snow. It had been a memory stored in his brain for all this time, and it had come out as quite a beautiful dream.

He awoke at around three in the morning, lying still with Lovino in his arms for at least half an hour before grudgingly pulling himself away. His brain was awake, and now he needed to think.

Lovino grumbled cutely and curled up closer to the spot where Antonio had been laying, sighing contentedly and nuzzling his face into the sheets.

Antonio found himself staring at the teenager for more than a healthy amount of time before shaking his head groggily and walking from the bedroom.

Sighing, he shuffled his way to the kitchen, stretching his lanky arms high above his head before making his way to the deity of the room: his coffee machine.

Antonio leaned against the faux marble counter and listened to the comforting drip of the coffee maker as he pondered his situation. He wondered if he should take Lovino to the hospital…not so much for the self-diagnosed hypothermia, but from what he had seen of the teenager's torso, well, he was no expert, but he wouldn't be surprised if Lovino had a broken rib…or a few.

Antonio massaged the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger as the rage grew inside him.

How dare that horrible, disgusting, sickening man…how dare he touch his Lovino.

Wait, mine? He thought suddenly, his hand sliding down to cover his lips as his brow furrowed. What on earth am I-

"Antonio?" Lovino's voice called from the entryway of the bedroom into the joint living room and kitchen, interrupting Antonio's thoughts.

Antonio whipped his head around quickly, jumping away from the counter and letting out a small hiss as the cheap plastic detached its suction-like hold from his stomach.

Lovino stood by the couch, looking down at his feet and fidgeting slightly as he played with the drawstring on the sweatpants Antonio had given him. His hair was slightly mussed, and his eyes looked tired. The too-large sweater he was wearing was falling off of one shoulder, revealing a slightly tanned glimpse of shoulder and collarbone.

Antonio had to physically will his eyes away from the smooth expanse of skin and focus on the other's face.

"Ye…yes?" he answered, his hand moving up to rub at the back of his neck automatically.

He really hated that.

"Um…" Lovino started, his eyes darting up to glance at Antonio and then quickly back down again as he shifted his weight from one foot to another. "Thanks. For…everything."

Lovino opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something else, but instead stayed still.

Antonio strode over to him, gently holding his shoulders and attempting to look Lovino in the eyes.

"Of course, I couldn't just leave you there! You should've called me sooner Lovino…How are you feeling? Are you dizzy? Are you hurt? What kind of question is that, of course you're hurt!" Antonio rattled off quickly, hardly leaving any room for Lovino to say anything.

Lovino looked up at him, an eyebrow slightly cocked.

"I'm…I'm okay. I just…" he let out a shaky sigh, running his hand through his hair as he slightly lowered himself to sit on the couch.

Antonio calmed down slightly, licking his lips nervously and sitting in a chair across from Lovino. He looked down at his hands, and then back up at the teenager, staring intently at him.

"Lovino, what happened?" he asked softly, tilting his head and putting a hand on his friend's comfortingly.

Lovino let out a long breath, which ended—to Antonio's surprise—in a bitter chuckle of sorts. Then Lovino bit his bottom lip, a pensive look on his face, and leaned forward slightly, glancing up at Antonio.

"It's…a long story."

More to come...two more chapters, I think. Unless I combine them into a monster chapter.

No, I don't think I'll do that.

Btw- if you want to look up that poem I mentioned it's called "Oranges" by Gary Soto.

Cheers!