A/N: Sorry it's been so long since I've updated this one. I've been very busy. Also a small warning: this chapter includes several homophobic slurs and mild depictions of violence.
Lovino was surprised that Matthew was still awake. He didn't know what time it was but he figured it had to be sometime past midnight. Of course, he had no idea why Gilbert was calling Matthew this late at night.
Deciding that this was none of his business, Lovino tried to step away to go back to the guest room, but his foot got caught in the rug. He nearly cried out as he fell through the door and hit the hardwood floor of Matthew's bedroom. He didn't catch himself in time, and his face hit the floor square on the nose. Black spots dotted his vision as he looked up at Matthew, who had an indescribable look on his face.
"Uh… I—," Lovino stuttered. "Where's your kitchen?" His face burnt. All he wanted was a glass of water. Why did everything bad have to happen to him?
Matthew, still confused, got out of bed. "I'll show you." He walked over to Lovino, who was still sitting on the floor, ears burning, and offered him his hand. "Need help up?"
Lovino reluctantly took Matthew's hand and pulled himself up. "Sorry about that."
"It's no problem," Matthew laughed. "Did you trip on the rug out there?"
"Yeah." Lovino scratched his neck.
"Don't worry about it. Happens to me all the time. Well, it happened once. When I first moved in."
That didn't make Lovino feel much better, but he smiled gratefully anyway and followed Matthew to his kitchen.
It turned out to be down the hall from the guest room and to the left. Lovino had accidentally gone to the right, which led to Matthew's bedroom and a small closet.
Lovino got his glass of water and made sure to apologize again.
Matthew just laughed and said couldn't sleep so he made a cup of tea as he waved goodnight to Lovino for the second time. Lovino just grunted in response and headed back to the bedroom, glass of water in hand.
Matthew stood patiently in the kitchen, waiting for the teapot to whistle. He was seated on a small stool that Gilbert bought because he couldn't reach the high shelves, and he refused to ask Matthew for help.
He was relaxed and happy that he was finally able to think about something other than Gilbert. However, that something just happened to be Lovino, which was, at the same time, a better alternative and torture.
Matthew still wasn't sure if he thought of Lovino as a friend or possibly more than that, and he was probably over stressing himself trying to figure out if Lovino felt the same way about him.
Whether he did or not, Matthew decided it would be best not to psych himself over it anymore. He poured the boiling water into a mug, careful not to spill it, and let the tea steep. He grabbed the mug and started back to his bedroom, where he would unsuccessfully try to sleep.
However, on his way, he heard the doorbell ring. At first, he shrugged it off. Probably just a side effect of his lack of sleep, but a few moments later he heard it again. This time, he decided to see if there was actually someone there. He stormed to the front door and threw it open, irritated. "It's two in the morning, what do you—" He stopped when he looked up and actually saw the person standing there. Matthew heard his mug crash to the ground, but he was too shocked to acknowledge it.
"Matthew."
"Gilbert."
~Twelve years ago~
"Hey, Lovi, look at this!" Feliciano pointed at the front page of the newspaper. He was at the kitchen table, eating some sugar cereal that would keep him awake for days. He was seven at the time, and he didn't understand the concept of "sugar high." Anyway, he kept on eating cereal, explaining to Lovino, through a stuffed mouth, that a boy from his school, Roderich, was on the front page because he composed an entire symphony.
Much to Lovino's disgust, Feliciano didn't even swallow before he started to read the article out loud.
"Roderich Edelstein, an Austrian student at Bonnefoy's School for the Artistically Gifted, has agreed to let us interview him," he read.
"Stop." Lovino cut his brother off before he had the chance to spit more colorful cereal chunks onto the comic section. Lovino cringed as he tried to read Peanuts, flicking something orange off of Snoopy's face.
"Aww, but Roddy is my friend. He's super smart. He says he's going to be famous one day."
"That's great, Feli." Lovino didn't like to be reminded that, while his little brother went to a school for kids with talent, he was stuck at a gross public school. A place where, even in third grade, kids picked their noses and rubbed it on the bathroom walls.
They just had to move all the all the way from Italy to America so Feliciano could go to school and study art and music instead of having math and science shoved down his throat.
Of course, at this new school, Lovino had had trouble making friends the first few weeks, but then a few new students transferred from Belgium, and they had became inseparable almost immediately. They all had trouble relating to the other kids due to their cultural differences, so they stuck together. However, the only one who Lovino became really close with was Emma. She was in class with him, and they would visit each other's houses after school to work on homework and play and do all of that childish stuff. Lovino remembered Emma's green hairband that she wore almost every day, and how shiny it was.
He remembered, one day, they were running around on the playground, playing tag or something, and one of the older kids came and tugged the hairband out of Emma's hair.
"Hey," she cried, pounding at the bully's stomach. "Give it back."
"Why? Because your boyfriend gave it to you," he taunted.
Emma turned to look at her brother, who was leaning against the wall of the school, glancing around. "Lars is not my boyfriend, he is my brother, now give it back, schijtluis."
Lovino's eyes widened. He didn't speak Belgian, but he knew that that was not something a little girl should say.
"What did you call me," the older boy leered.
"Give me my ribbon," Emma demanded one last time.
"And what if I don't?"
"I… I'll—"
"You will have to deal with me," Lovino finished, finally stepping into the fight.
The bully looked at Lovino, sizing him up. "Oh no. Not you," he replied in faux fear. "Now run along, wuss."
"What did you call him," Emma cried, now pounding at the bully's stomach with both fists, but caused no response from him.
"Yeah, what did you call him?" Lars had now joined in on the action, behind the bully. He was nearly a foot taller that the brat, being a sixth grader, and he leered over him, giving him one of his classic stone-cold glares that would make even the toughest bully wet themselves.
The kid turned around to look at the oldest kid in school standing in front of him. He screamed and ran away, but Lars grabbed the back of his collar. "I think you're forgetting something."
The bully looked at the ribbon in his hand, dropped it, and took off running, crying to the teacher, who didn't seem to give a single fuck.
Emma picked up the ribbon and tied it back around her head without brushing the dirt off first. She turned to hug Lars, but he was already on the other side of the playground trying to sell candy to some wide-eyed first grader.
"Oh well," she said, then tapped Lovino on the shoulder. "You're it."
"Not for long," he replied while laughing and chasing after Emma.
Lovino had no idea why that memory had resurfaced, but he didn't really question it. It was honestly the only good memory from his childhood.
Unfortunately, he didn't stay in contact with Emma or Lars after elementary school. Emma went on to middle school with new friends, all girls, and fully convinced that all boys were gross. Lars was a freshman in High School, but he was caught for starting an underground soda business after the school restocked the vending machines with juice and water. He was fortunately only suspended for a week, but everyone still wanted to be his friend. That was, sadly, not the case with Lovino.
He got the lovely fate of spending every morning before school scrubbing sharpied insults off of his locker. The ones that stuck in his brain were the worst. Labels like "Slut" and "Fag" might have well been written on sticky notes and slapped right on his forehead, because it seemed no matter where he went, these words were whispered to their friends, muttered through a crowd, and even shouted directly to him. The only people in the school who treated him decently were the teachers, which also gave the students a reason to call him the teacher's pet. Just what Lovino had needed.
The only upside of middle school was that they had an open-campus, and Lovino only lived a block away, so he could just walk home and eat lunch there.
His mom had her lunch break at the same time as Lovino, so they would sit together at the kitchen table and talk about how well Lovino was doing in school. Even though everyone hated him, he still managed to get good grades. He didn't have anyone to distract him, even Feliciano left him alone.
At first, he begged his mom to let him switch schools, but after the first three "No"s and two "Maybe"s, he found it to be completely pointless. No matter what school he transferred to, the popular kids would find out about what Lovino had done, the rumors would spread, and it would happened all over again.
Finally in high school, Lovino was bullied way less, but no one really talked to him, except for the Spanish exchange student, Antonio, who was the happiest guy Lovino had ever met. He had finally made a friend and was content with just him and no one else.
However, it was the first whisper that started it all. From one jock (Lovino was relieved that he didn't remember the guy's name) to another. Through a hushed voice, in the back of a Spanish class, fourth period, he whispered to his friend, "See that kid up there in front?"
The other boy looked up from his notes. "Lovino?"
"Yeah. The other day, I was walking home, and I saw him holding hands with someone."
"Really, who?"
"Antonio."
"The Spanish exchange student?"
"Yeah."
"So they're both… you know?"
"A couple of fags? Yep."
The other boy looked to the front of the class, at Lovino, and clenched his teeth. "I don't want them here. It could spread it to any one of us. You know we won't be able to play football anymore if we end up like them."
"I know how to get rid of them both."
"Excuse me," the teacher interrupted. "Do you have something you boys have something that you want to share with the class?"
"No ma'am. Sorry," the first boy said, looking at the ground, but when she turned to write something on the board, he continued to glare at the back of Lovino's head.
Later that day, Lovino was on his way to meet up with Antonio by the back dumpster. They would meet each other there every day and walk home together. No one knew that they were more than friends yet, at least, that was what Lovino had hoped. They tried as hard as they could to be secretive about it, but they apparently weren't careful enough, because when Lovino turned the corner, he saw something that made him scream. Well, he tried, but before he had the chance, there was a hand over his mouth. He struggled and whimpered, but his strength was no match for someone who lifted weights and probably had more steroids in his body that the entire group of bodybuilders that hung out at the park on Sunday evenings to seduce single moms.
Lovino got away from the jock just long enough to shout, "Toni!"
Antonio, or what Lovino recognized of him, was leaned against the dumpster. Bloody and bruised. He was staring at the pavement, his left eye swollen and black.
"What the fuck," Lovino shouted before the same guy grabbed him and shoved him against the hard, green metal.
"You think you're funny?"
Lovino turned his face away, not wanting to make eye contact with his attacker. To the side, he saw another steroid junkie, this one holding a metal baseball bat.
"Did you hear me? You think you're funny," the bully shouted.
Lovino squinted his eyes shut, trying to will the tears away. He would not cry in front of this asshole. So instead, he did what any rational person would do in this situation. He kicked the guy in the crotch. He had three seconds to decide what to do next.
Instead of running to get help, for some stupid reason he ran to Antonio. The other guys were too busy helping their friend to do anything to Lovino.
"Toni," he said, lightly touching Antonio's black and blue face.
Antonio looked up at Lovino and actually smiled. "Lovi," he whispered, relieving his boyfriend for only a moment.
"Don't smile, idiot," Lovino half joked, but Antonio had already passed out again. Lovino's relief suddenly turned to rage as he stood up and turned toward the band of testosterone and steroids. "Look at what you've done," he shouted, knowing that they wouldn't feel bad, but still, he was on to something.
"Are you gonna tattle on us," the leader of the group joked. "Run along tattle tale, go cry to your parents."
"Oh. I'm not gonna tell mine or your parents, or even your coach. I'm not gonna tell the teachers, the principle. I'm not gonna tell anybody about this. But I will tell every one of your friends and family members that you did this." Lovino started toward the lead jock. This was it, this was the moment that would determine his fate. If they killed him for this, he didn't care. He stepped close to the other guy, stood on his tiptoes and full on kissed him, with tongue, making sure to get a picture of it with his cell phone.
As soon as he broke away, the group was too shocked to do anything so Lovino blew them a kiss, walked to Antonio, somehow managed to throw him over his shoulder, and walked away.
No one bothered the two of them after that.
To this day, Lovino had no idea how he managed to get away from that with his head still attached to his shoulders. He still had the phone with that picture on it. It was somewhere in his bedroom, in a box, deep in the closet. He was pretty sure that jock turned out to be some junkie, living on the streets, begging for money only to spend it on drugs.
Lovino wished he could forget everything that happened before that, because everything after seemed to go pretty well for him. Fortunately, high school went by fast, but after graduation, Antonio had to go back to Spain, but it was only for a year. Now Lovino worked with him at the book store, but they were barely even friends anymore. Things were awkward between them, and Lovino felt no pressure to change that, so he let their relationship remain simply business.
College was a blur for Lovino, considering he only got a two-year degree. He didn't need anything more at the moment, and he had to drop out to take care of Feliciano after their mom passed away.
Lovino didn't know why he was thinking about all of this stuff, here in Matthew's guest bedroom. It was probably the green paint that reminded him of Emma's hair ribbon.
A/N: So yeah, a lot of Lovino's backstory here. In the next chapter I want to get to Canada's past and what he's gone through, so you can look forward to that. (May be a while. Like I said. Very busy).