How To Fall

"And I will fall for you / if I fall for you /

would you fall too?"

Ed Sheeran, "Fall"

Well, it's just that I really like you, so I was wondering how we would make this work.

See, I told you he cared, my Inner Voice says smugly. I nearly tell it to shut up before I remember that Antonio is there and if he hears me talking to myself he... he... well, I suppose he'll do something. Maybe. Then again, he's Antonio. He didn't even think about the fact that he was sort of "going out" with someone underage.

"What?" I finally ask him. Just for clarification. I mean, I already know exactly what he said, because he's the only one stupid enough to say it.

"Well, I know you're my teacher and I'm your stude- I mean, I'm your student and you're my- wait, I mean, I'm older than you, and- wait, what am I talking about?" He stops and and scratches the top of his head. "I forgot! Well, I just wanted to say that I'm kind of a little bit in love with you?" He at least has the decency to blush here, which I suppose is a good thing. It means he's not totally... insane. Ish.

"You're... you're in love... with me?" I ask disbelievingly. "Why?"

He looks at me and shrugs, giving me a small smile. "I don't know, I just am!"

I cross my arms over my chest and scowl to try and cover up the blush spreading across my face. "Nope. I won't allow you to be in love with me unless you have a reason," I say, which is just stupid, because I know that right here he's not going to be able to think of a reason to love me, because he doesn't actually love me, he's just pretending to make me feel better about myself-

"Well, I love your smile. It's really rare but when it does come around it's really lovely! And I love how you seem to care about your family. You don't mention them too much, but when you do you seem really affectionate, and that's really sweet. And I love the way you get so embarrassed when I compliment you, it's so cute! Like right now, your face is all red! And I love how you write, that's really cool. I used to write but I didn't do much more than dabble, but you seem really into it. And I just- well, I just love all of you. I love your laugh, and I love your glare, and I love the way you call me 'bastard,' and I love-"

I reach forward, blushing furiously, and cover his mouth with my hands. "Okay, okay, I get it, y-you can stop now, dammit, you... you stupid..." To my horror, I realize that there are tears rising in my eyes, but I don't want to wipe them away for fear that he'll notice them, and then what, he'll know I'm crying and gosh, he'll ask me into his room and he'll... he'll hold me and love me and- ...Wait, tell me again why I don't want this?

He reaches over and cups my face in one of his hands, removing my hands from his mouth with the other. "Lovino, are you alright?" He sounds worried, and it takes me a moment to realize that he's worried about me. Because I'm crying. Well, I'm not crying, but... there are tears in my eyes, and I guess that's sort of the same thing.

"I'm fine," I try to say past the lump in my throat. It doesn't work too well. I don't remember the last time someone other than Nonno or Romeo was truly worried about me.

"What's wrong?" he asks, like I can just tell him. I wish it was that simple. I don't want to burden him with my stupid problems. He's got bigger things to deal with, I'm sure, then little old me. Just ask my parents. They'd probably agree.

I clear my throat and look down at the floor. "Nothing's wrong." I tell him. My voice sounds a little croaky, and the lump keeps struggling to come back. "I... I have to go now, I don't want to bother you-" I gasp as he takes both of my hands in his own and pulls me into his room- into his arms, into a hug, a nice, warm hug. He wraps one arm around my waist and entwines the finger of his other hand in my hair, snuggling his face into the top of my head and keeping me there, warm and safe. I struggle a bit at first, but in the end I just close my eyes and rest my head on his chest, making sure that I absolutely don't hug him back, since I don't want to seem like I like this.

He moves his leg forward and I start to wonder what the fuck he thinks he's doing, but then I hear the door shut behind us. Oh shit, has that door been open this whole time? Shit! What if someone saw us! Fucking shit!

"A-Antonio, did someone see-?" I pull away a bit to look up at him.

"No, no one saw. No one even passed by. Don't worry about it." He pulls me back to him and presses a soft kiss to the top of my head, and I shiver a bit. It just feels so good to have him hold me. Wait! No it doesn't! ...Ah fuck, who am I kidding? It totally feels good. That doesn't mean I have to tell him though.

He rubs a circle into my back before asking, "Are you okay, Lovi?"

I open my mouth, preparing to say yes, like I usually do when someone asks me this, but something about the way he says it makes me tell the truth. "No. Not really."

He tightens his grip around me. "Will you tell me what's wrong? I want to help you." His breath feels warm on my skin, and it makes me comfortable enough to say maybe. I might tell him what's wrong. I might let him help me. But I won't.

I think I won't, anyways.

But the way he doesn't push me into telling him anything, and the way he just stands here and holds me, tells me that I might.

(','(','(','('.')';')';')';')

The next couple days pass easily enough. I start going back to Antonio's class- but first I tell him he absolutely cannot talk to me as if he knows me -and I hang out a bit more with the Vargas Cupids, who are still acting fucking creepy, dammit, and I apologize to Nonno for calling him fat. (Because he was threatening to not let me eat- what would you have done?!) I try to stay away from Romeo, though, because a) he's acting so completely lovesick (to put it into geeky perspective, like when Ron drank that love potion in the sixth Harry Potter book) and b) I feel like, since he's so in love, he'll notice that I'm in... um... n-not love, that's for sure! Fuck you!

I'm surprised it's lasted this long.

I've been expecting this to blow up for a while now.

Which is why I'm not surprised when Nonno calls me and asks if we can Talk. With a capital T. That's how I know something awful/big/important is going to happen.

"What are we going to Talk about?" I ask suspiciously.

"Oh... just... just something that's been on my mind. For a while now, actually. But I'll explain it to you later, over coffee. I'll buy you whatever you want, really!"

A ball of dread gathers in the pit of my stomach as possibilities flash through my mind, but I push them all out of my mind because he just said he'd buy me anything. "Fine, I'll meet with you, I guess."

"Good," he breathes. He sounds like a huge weight has been lifted off his shoulders. That doesn't mean I'm not gonna have him buy me at least one pair of skinny jeans to wear the next time Antonio and I are alon- NO! Never!

I hang up and head to his office, which has big, imposing wooden doors, for some strange reason. I guess he wants to pretend like he's a good headmaster by having scary doors, even though everyone knows that he's not scary at all.

I open the doors without knocking ('cause I'm a badass that way) and walk into his office, sitting down on a spinny chair on one side of the desk, the side that's meant for students who are in trouble to sit in. Unlike his doors, his office is really friendly, with a big, arched window in front of me and curtains that tone down the bright sunlight a bit, a big desk with a bunch of pictures of me, Romeo and Feli on it, and a bunch of random fancy candelabras set along the wall. Also, there's a door to my left that leads to a room where he sleeps. We kind of live at the school most of the year.

At the moment, he's not in the room, so I spin around on the chair and try my best to not think about thinking about Antonio, my new favorite hobby, apparently. I just can not stop thinking about not thinking about Antonio! It's getting insane. I barely have time to write anymore, and my story is getting super fucking pissed at me. And also trying it's best to shove itself out of my throat. No, wait, my... fingers... wait, what? Whatever. The point is that my story wants to be written. Except that I'm too busy thinking about not thinking about Antonio. I thought when you were in l... l... llllllinguini you couldn't stop thinking about the person, not about not thinking about them.

The side door that leads to Nonno's room clicks open and I jerk out of my thoughts to find that I have a mini-notebook-thingy in my hands and have been writing semi-coherent sentences on it in that way you do when you're writing but not paying attention and so you turn random words into words that make the whole sentence sound like a parody of what's actually going on. So far I've written "And then he said 'Are you stinky?' with a caramel look in his eyes that makes my heart chocolate."

"Why are you giggling to yourself?" asks Nonno as he sits behind his desk and starts rearranging papers, which I feel might be a bit unnecessary.

"I'm not giggling," I say, quickly straightening up and swallowing my next wave of insane, falling-off-chair giggling.

"... Right. Well, anyways, Lovino, I... I have something important to tell you."

Instantly, I'm on guard. "What do you mean 'important.' The last time you said something was 'important' was when you told me that your stupid German boyfriend and his stupid German grandsons might have to move in with us, and that sucked, because I would have had to share a room with Romeo-"

"Aldrich and I are getting married." he blurts out suddenly.

"WHAT?!" I scream.

"H-he proposed to me a couple weeks ago but I didn't want to say anything because you seemed so unhappy but now that you seem more stable I figured I should tell you because I didn't want you to just wake up on the morning of the wedding to everyone freaking out and- and stuff..."

"Why didn't you tell me this before?!" I yell.

"I just told you why I didn't tell you before!" he yells back.

"Well... well... you were lying!"

"Was not!"

"Were too!"

"Was not!"

I sit back in my seat and cross my arms mopily. "Anything else you want to tell me?" I grumble. "Those fucking Germans aren't going to move in with us now, are they?"

"Well... no, but... um... well..."

"Just spit it out, dammit!"

"Yourparentsarecomingtothewed ding-" he blurts out. I try to decipher it for a moment, then give up.

"What?!" I ask.

He takes a deep breath. "Um... y-your parents are... um... coming to the wedding..."

"WHAT?! WHY WOULD YOU INVITE THEM!" Suddenly there are tears rising in my eyes and I'm- am I shaking? Oh fuck, am I having a fucking panic attack, seriously, how fucking lame can you get?

"Lovino-"

"I have to go." I struggle up from my stupid spinny chair and head towards the door.

"Lovino, wait, I can explai-"

"I don't want to hear it."

"Lovino, come back here-"

I stop in front of the door, and he starts to sound hopeful, until I turn and pull out my phone, which just buzzed in my pocket. "I'm going out." I say coolly. "I won't be back for a while. Don't bother looking for me."

"Lovino Vargas, come back here right-" I slam the door before he can finish.

(','(','(','('.')';')';')';')

Wanna do something? :) We could drive to the city! Wouldn't that be fun?

Cant u jst txt lie a normal prsn

Of course not! What sort of writing teacher would I be if I couldn't even spell things properly?

Wll, its gettng annying

I don't understand what you're saying...

IT'S GETTING ANNOYING

You forgot punctuation. :D

I manage a smile, then clap a hand over my mouth so that no one will see. I'm trying to be upset here. Antonio's making it really hard.

I stop in front of the door to his room, checking around sneakily to see if anyone's looking before opening the door and slipping inside, closing and locking it behind me.

"Antonio?" I call softly. I wait a couple of seconds before deciding to snoop around his room, because obviously it's only natural to snoop around the living quarters of the guy you l... l... lllllllasagna.

First I go into his kitchen, which I've been in before, but only to eat. I have to make sure he has pasta and tomatoes in his fridge otherwise he might get hungry. I mean, what else is there to eat besides pasta and tomatoes? I mean, besides pizza, but that's practically the same thing, except with toppings and delicious.

Next, I check his bedroom (which is, you know, the size of a closet, but still, at least he's got a door- goddamn teachers and their fucking special treatment), because what if he was actually taking a naked nap in there when he texted me and he's still asleep in there and then I can- I can not see him naked, why would I want to see that, I'm not gay or anything...

I'M NOT FUCKING GAY.

Dio mio.

When I notice he's not in there after checking his room out thoroughly, I go back into the kitchen- which is pretty much the whole living place anyways, and throw myself down on the one piece of furniture- a huge, comfy armchair that I've definitely never shared with Antonio while watching a horror movie, mm-mm, not me -to wait for him to show up. I barely have time to wonder where he is when he walks out of the bathroom wearing only a pair of low-slung skinny jeans (come one now, really? Is that even legal?) and a towel around his neck.

With further examination I notice that his pants aren't even buttoned.

Surely that's not legal.

Or zipped either, for that matter.

Illegal, all the way.

He seems to notice me instantly, shooting me a smile and telling me to wait a minute while he gets dressed (because obviously he's not about to be nervous about being seen by his- his student, for fuck's sake -when he's mostly naked. Mostly naked, people. I'm pretty sure that's not legal in any way. At all, and damn do those jeans show off his butt, mmhmm, that's nice right there.

Not that I was checking him out or anything.

I'm not gay.

He comes back out after a couple minutes wearing a bright yellow t-shirt (that's so totally gay it's not even funny) and then smiles at me. "Hi, Lovi! What's up with you today?"

"My name's not Lovi!" I tell him half-heartedly. "And nothing's up with me, except that my Nonno's getting married." I debate telling him about my parents. And debate. And debaaaaate. Because while one part of me doesn't want to tell him anything (else) about my family situation, the rest of me wants to throw myself into his arms and make him hold me while I sob out my life's story, which is even gayer than his t-shirt but also sounds really nice. Even though I'm not gay.

"Oh, your Nonno's getting married? That's so exciting! Who's he getting married to? When's the wedding? Why don't you sound excited?"

"I don't sound excited because he's marrying this German bastard! And I don't know when the wedding is, I didn't stay long enough to find out."

His face falls suddenly. "I didn't interrupt you guys, did I?" he asks sadly. "I would feel really bad if I had..."

"No, you didn't interrupt us. I was already leaving when you texted me."

"Are you sure?"

I roll my eyes at him. "Yes, Antonio, I'm sure."

"Oh. Why were you already leaving then?"

I shoot him a shrewd glance- he's totally got me in a trap, now I have to answer him or else he'll know something's bugging me -but he just smiles innocently at me, like a... a... a puppy. A golden retriever puppy. But brown. And sexy. With super bright green eyes and a sexy ass- not that I look at it a lot or anything.

"Nothing. Just Nonno's wedding. He invited... some people I don't really want to see."

He frowns lightly, concernedly at me. "Lovi, you can tell me what's bothering you. I won't judge you for it."

My heart = melted.

Even though I'm totally gay.

I- I mean NOT gay, dammit! ...Sh-shut up!

"It's nothing!" I insist. "Except that he... invited my parents. To his wedding, I mean, and we just don't really get along, me and my parents- no, that's not proper grammar, my parents and I -and I just don't really want to see them until next summer, but even when I go and stay with them in the summer I barely see them and even when I do they kind of act like I'm not there- like Harry Potter and the Dursley's, except that they're my parents and my mom gave birth to me but she still doesn't seem to like me at all- but I don't really care, anyways, because I don't like them either, and I definitely didn't throwmyselfoutawindowbecause ofthem- oh, sorry I'm babbling. I'll stop now." I close my mouth and think over all the things I just said, and that's when I realize- FUCK I JUST TOLD HIM ABOUT TWO YEARS AGO WHEN-

"Lovi, did you just say that... you... threw yourself out a window because of them?" He asks carefully, staring at me seriously, for once.

And suddenly I burst into tears.

(','(','(','('.')';')';')';')

Two years ago, I was sitting in my room, staring out the window, thinking about my parents, which actually wasn't all that unusual. I would sit there for hours and hours imagining what life would have been like if they had liked me and kept me.

My thoughts, as usual, turned to ways I could make them care about me.

I could be nicer.

I could be cute, like Feli.

I could stop swearing.

I could have friends.

I could get along with people.

I could stop liking Harry Potter and get into art and Leonardo Da Vinci.

I could throw myself out this window.

I mean, they'd at least come to my funeral if I died, wouldn't they?

They'd come to see me in the hospital if I survived.

Just to make sure I was still alive, at least.

Wouldn't they at least check?

I was willing to take that chance.

Apparently Nonno saw me fall. He was out within two minutes of my sudden exit through the window. He called the hospital and did his best to stop me from bleeding to death on the cement of our old house.

I woke up five days later, in the hospital. They asked me what had happened. And I tried to unhook myself from all the machines I was attached to, the machines that were keeping me alive. I wanted to die. I kept screaming for them to let me die. My parents weren't there, and so I wanted to die.

They sedated me.

The next time I woke up, they had someone come in and talk to me about my feelings, blah blah blah, why I had done this, so on and so forth. I told him that it was all my parents' faults and that he should just let me die already.

I was in the hospital for... three months? More? I can't remember.

It wasn't that my injuries were that bad- a concussion, a couple broken ribs, a broken arm, a broken ankle -it was the fact that I just kept trying to kill myself. Again. And again. And again. And. Again.

Later, when I was more stable and heavily sedated, one of the doctors asked me why I kept trying to kill myself. I told him that it was because my parents hadn't just abandoned me, it was because they had picked someone else over me.

I mean, I was their son too. It wasn't just Feliciano. He wasn't their only child, like they were so fond of pretending. They had Romeo and I as well. They just didn't seem to care at all about us.

And then I did my best to slit my wrists with the nearest sharp thing I could find.

I was not in a good way. I was in a bad way. I was in one of the worst ways, actually. My parents made me want to die so much, and they weren't even in the same continent I was. That was the problem.

(','(','(','('.')';')';')';')

When I finally finish my story I'm sitting on the floor of Antonio's room with my knees pulled up to my chest, too afraid to look at him. I mean, who wants to be boyfrie- friends -with a seventeen-year-old who's family still checks up on him at least every three hours just to make sure he hasn't drowned himself in the bathtub or thrown himself down the stairs or slit his wrists. No one wants to be around someone who can't keep their fucking problems to themselves. No one wants to be around someone who can't go to the bathroom without their grandfather freaking out and calling them at least eight times on their cell phone, wondering where he is.

And so I'm just waiting for Antonio to say something about how he needs me to get away from him, he can't deal with me right now, he's got papers to grade, movies to watch, people to call, a life to move on with, which I can't do.

But he doesn't.

Instead, he reaches out a hand and runs it slowly, uncertainly through my hair. I freeze with- with fear, with shock, with surprise and, above it all, hope -and look up into his bright green eyes.

"Lovino..." he says quietly. "I love you. So don't do anything like that again, please?"

I sniffle and wipe my eyes on my sleeve. My face feels puffy and tight and my throat hurts, all because I was fucking crying. Like a stupid girl. It's no fucking wonder my parents chose Feli over me.

"Lovino, look at me, okay?" I look up at him. His eyes make me want to cry. His face makes me want to cry. Everything about him makes me want to cry, because he cares about me, even when it seems like no one else does. Well, I know that Romeo and Nonno and Feli all probably care about me, but... no one really needs me... or anything... I would inconvenience them if I died, nothing more.

"Lovino, you're important, okay? You really are. I don't know what I'd do without you."

"Sure you do," I say croakily. "You'd get on with your life, like I can't seem to do. You'd go on teaching here and then fall in love with someone and get married and have kids and live your life and not try to kill yourself and-"

He reaches out and grabs my hand, intertwining our fingers. I don't even bother pulling away. It's not going to do anything if I don't even mean it.

"Would you jump out a window holding my hand?" he asks softly, trailing the fingers of his free hand up and down my wrist.

"No," I answer immediately. "I'd let go first."

"I won't let you let go. I keep a tight grip on your wrist. Do you still jump out the window?"

"No, of course not. You don't have to die just because I'm a terrible person."

"Have you heard of the red string of fate?"

"...No..."

"It's a red thread that connects two people by their little fingers. It means that they're meant to be together. Forever."

"So what does that have to do with anythi-"

"Can't you see it, Lovi? I saw it the first time I saw you, though I didn't know what it was. You and I have a red string of fate tied between us, Lovino, and if you ever jump out a window again, we'll be connected by our fingers."

"So what?" I ask, trying to sound aloof even though my voice is trembling like crazy.

"So, even if you fall, I'll pull you back up."

My eyes fill with tears- again, what's with me and fucking crying -and I wipe them away before staring at him. "Really?"

He reaches out and pulls me into a warm, comfortable hug. "Really," he breathes.

A/N So, I officially turned Ed Sheeran's, like, ONE happy song into a sad chapter for a fanfiction. Yay me! Well, it's not even THAT happy, so I guess we're good. And I guess I didn't, like, base this chapter off the song, so...

But anyways. This was pretty angsty, eh? I feel like maybe a lot of you weren't exactly expecting this. I was totally dropping hints, too... but... I feel like no one was getting suspicious... so... I hope this threw you a bit. XD I know, I'm evil.

Yeah, it's totally two in the morning and I'm sickish, guys. I think I need some healing favorites and follows. XD There's a magical box below this that you can use to tell me what a little bitch I am for making all of this shit happen to Lovino. You should totally use it. It'll be great. I just know it. :D