Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.
Kicking the Bucket List
four
"I'm a mess, that's the best way to describe it.
Having no time to myself's the only way I can fight it.
When I'm alone, it's like I'm staring into a mirror.
Don't know the person inside, and that's never been any clearer."
— You Be Tails, I'll Be Sonic by A Day To Remember
The next day was the general assembly for Performing Arts students. Evergreen Hollows University had many departments, under which were many more courses under those respective departments' care.
Whilst Feliciano belonged to the Art Department, Lovino belonged to the one of the Theatre of Performing Arts. There was a General Education Department, as well as as one for Technical Engineering and EHU's world-class Business School, amongst many, many more departments in the campus.
The older Vargas brother had woken up considerably early in the morning to get ready— the general assembly itself was earlier than his first class. The good thing is that he'd be having Intro to Creative Writing today. Finally, there'd be something more… structured to write about.
Lovino liked structured, truth be told. He knew what to expect, so he knew what to do. Not having control over the situation he was in gave him the distinct feeling of frustration, anger and confusion that kinda made him want to throw himself in front of a bus.
…Yeah.
That bad.
Yet at the same time, he hated that he was a creature of routine, bound to the same schedule that likely would never change. It was another reason to why he had the Bucket List.
Goddammit, he wanted change. He didn't want to be bound like this anymore, fuck, he wanted freedom.
But he was scared of what he wasn't used to.
It was fucking paradoxical and he hated it.
The brunette took a quick shower and got changed into a black button down and dark wash jeans, slipping his feet into his well-worn black Vans. As he exited the bedroom, he noticed the smell of cooking wafting from the direction of the kitchen area.
Feliciano was busying himself in the kitchen, stirring something in a small pot with a wooden spoon. Immediately, he picked up the presence of his older brother and turned to face him, beaming. "Buon giorno, fratello! I made pancakes~!"
He motioned to two plates set on the white marble island counters. There were two stacks of pancakes on it, each stacked to perfection.
"Why the hell are you up so early?" Lovino mumbled, automatically heading over to the cupboards to grab a bottle of maple syrup.
The younger of the two let out an enigmatic giggle, "I don't know, fratello. I just feel so very happy today! I feel like I'm on top of the world~!"
Lovi rolled his eyes, "Shut up, Feliciano. Or at least tone it the fuck down, it's too early to be on top of the world."
Feliciano laughed, pulling away from the pot to wrap his arms around Lovino's waist. "Aww~ Don't be so grumpy, Lovi! It's too early to be angry~!"
"What the fuck are you on, dammit?" Lovino growled out, prying Feliciano's arms off of his waist as his face flushed in frustration. "Why are you so happy today?"
"Ve~ I think it's time for some hug therapy~!" Feli sang out as Lovino whirled around to face the pot. He took one glance at it and lowered the heat.
"What the fuck, Feliciano, you put the heat up too high, dammit. The compote's gonna stick to the bottom of the pot and it's gonna be a fucking bitch to wash off," he then added as an afterthought, "And screw your hug therapy, idiota. What kind of compote is this?"
"Ve~ It's a blueberry and strawberry compote~"
"Why couldn't you have gotten a bottle of jam, like what normal people do?" The older twin complained, grabbing the spoon and stirring the mixed berry compote around.
"Because I know you prefer this to jam, even if it takes a bit more time to make."
Hazel eyes narrowed in suspicion met honey brown ones. "Why are you doing this?"
Feliciano pouted. "Ve~ Why not?"
Lovino rolled his eyes as he switched the stove off, "Cheh, because you normally don't?"
"I don't what, fratello?" Feliciano queried, automatically moving out of the way as Lovino turned around to face the island counter and poured the compote into two equal parts on top of each pancake stack to Instagram-worthy perfection.
"Do things for me. Tch, you have to have some incentive or something, dammit. So just tell me what the fuck it is!"
Almost immediately, he pulled the plate towards himself and began to demolish the stack, bit by bit.
The younger of the two sat at on one of the barstools, opposite his brother. "Can't I just do something nice for you?"
Lovino glanced up momentarily. "You could, but you usually don't. But whatever. Fuck it."
Feliciano hesitantly reached for his fork and butter knife, "Ve~ Why are you in such a hurry, fratello?" Almost immediately, his eyes brightened as he beamed excitedly at his older brother. "Ooh~ Are you meeting up with someone? Meeting up with friends?!"
Feli's interest (obsession) with Lovino's social life— or lack, thereof— was kind of sad and pitiful sometimes. At least, that was what the older twin told himself.
Lovino rolled his eyes, "No, I am not meeting up with friends. I have a general assembly to go to." He momentarily pulled away to take a quick glance at his watch. "Fuck. I have to go."
With that, he finished the rest of his pancakes and strode over to the other side of the apartment in order to retrieve his backpack where he'd left it.
"Ve~ I'll see you during lunch, Lovi! I'll text you!" Feliciano called out, waving his fratello goodbye.
"Yeah, yeah," the other mumbled, rolling his eyes. "I'll see you later."
Evergreen Hollows University's Theatre of Performing Arts was an iconic theatre in the state. It was both an artistically freeing and an architectural beacon of light in the city, which drew crowds upon crowds of avid musical and opera lovers, many wishing to experience the breathtaking performances for which the department was known for.
Lovino felt his heart race against his chest in anticipation. A flurry of people, of faces he's never seen before, surrounded him as his palms began to sweat in anxiousness.
This was to be his sanctuary; his solace.
These people… he would be working with them one day, dammit, whether he liked it or not!
He could already feel his inner muse pulsating from within his being, adrenaline rushing through his veins.
Merely the structure itself was astonishing. It was so surreal.
This… This was and is the place from which he would draw inspiration, the motivation to move others with his written words. To make them feel a plethora of emotions unlike any other.
He gulped, taking another glance up at the tall building.
It was sleek and modern; pillars of iron bars held up the foundations of the building as the walls were paned with glass. Dio, it must really look stunning at night.
Carefully, oh-so carefully, he made his way up the grey slate steps leading to the grand double doors, both thrown open in an inviting manner. He stepped inside, glancing up at the scene before him. Grand white marble, high arches and onyx black trimmings boasted and exuded power and elegance over the mere mortals that entered.
This is where plays, books, and dreams come to life. This is where they become sempiternal.
There were many people already present, now in the midst of shuffling in the theatre itself. It lifted Lovino's spirits up a bit just by being surrounded by all of these people who share the same passion for theatrics.
Lovino had made his way down the descending path to the front of the theatre, taking a seat somewhere near the stage. There were many bustling about, trying to get things in order at the last minute.
He crossed his arms over his chest, leaning back into his seat. It took ten minutes or so before the orientation began.
The Dean of the Performing Arts department came up on stage and gave them words of encouragement, welcoming the new students. One by one, the seniors who were in charge of handling the ropes of majority of the department's plays came up on stage and introduced themselves. Lovino honestly couldn't find it in himself to give a shit, senior or not. He busied himself by picking at his nails, but then—
"'Ello? Good mornin', everyone,"
—his heart skipped a beat and his head snapped up at breakneck speed. Hazel eyes locked with forest green ones, once again. He sat up straighter on his seat, feeling his face flush a deep crimson. He covered the lower half of his face with one hand as he tried to suppress his blushing.
He was there, right before him.
Right before Lovino.
"Okay! Righ'. M' name's Allistor Kirkland, but yeh can call me Allistor. Ah'm a senior an' Ah'm takin' up Performin' Arts as a play director, though Ah've already dabbled wif a bi' of actin' of my own." Allistor began, the lights focused on him. Lovino nearly melted in his seat, Dio mio, he was so close to him, but not close enough. The redhead was wearing a crisp, white linen button down and light wash jeans. He looked like perfection personified.
"Since yeh're all takin' courses under Performin' Arts, yeh'll be assistin' me for some of th' plays for th' rest of th' school year. Take i' as some kind of… practice for when we pass on th' ropes to yeh an' let yeh run majority o' th' plays next school year. It's very nice ta meet yeh all, an' Ah hope we can be friends." With that, he gave an awkward smile and wave at the crowd before setting the mic back down onto the stand. He jogged down the front steps and passed by Lovino, the intoxicating scent of the redhead suddenly saturating the air around him. His head spun.
For a second, their eyes locked. The Italian found it hard to breathe.
He waited for a flicker of recognition to sweep through those forest green eyes, but there was none. His heart suddenly sank to the bottom of his chest.
He didn't remember me, he thought to himself, trying to steady his breaths. Another speaker had gone up on stage, but he wasn't paying attention to her. Of course he doesn't remember me, dammit. I'm nothing but another passing face.
He hated this. He hated how someone he barely knew could have such an effect on him, on his mind and body.
After the orientation, he had lingered around awkwardly, inconspicuously (he hoped) trying to catch another glimpse of Allistor again. Just once, Dio mio, only once.
Then, Lovino told himself. I'll leave.
Several more minutes or so of searching through the crowd, the Italian saw him again. Before he could even stop himself, he began to walk slowly, oh-so slowly to the redhead, who was animatedly talking to someone.
But then Lovino stopped.
He was practically in front of Allistor now, trying to catch his attention. Trying to catch his eye.
Once again, the Italian went unnoticed. His heart sank just a bit more.
He whispered under his breath, "I'm right in front of you, but your eyes don't see me."
He did naught but stand there in silence. Then he shook his head and walked away. As I should've done so in the first place, he reasoned with himself. All he wanted at first was just another glance, and he got that. But then he wanted more. He should've fucking left, d-dammit…
Because if there's one thing I've learnt all these years of just being me, it's that I only want what I can't have.
It was a bad habit of his, he glumly admitted to himself.
He glanced down at his feet, his face red hot with embarrassment and frustration. Why the fuck did he have to feel this way? Why the fuck did he have to feel at all, like fuck emotions. Fuck having emotions, dammit—
Abruptly, someone bumped into him, breaking his train of thought.
"Lovi, oh my gosh, is that you?"
Lovino turned around to face the speaker, an easygoing smile on his face. "Buon giorno, Bella."
The bubbly Belgian blond wrapped her arms around him in a tight hug. "It's so nice to see you again! I never pegged you the type to take up acting, Lovi,"
He chuckled, awkwardly returning the embrace. "And you were right. I'm not. Actually, I'm taking Creative Writing under Performing Arts, so…"
She pulled away, patting his shoulder. "Oh, okay. We have several more schoolmates in this department, you know?"
He rolled his eyes, "Figures. It was bound to happen. Whose faces will I still have to see around here?"
She furrowed her brows before she started counting them off of one hand. "Well! There's Feliks, there's, well, of course, me, there's Elizaveta, there's Michelle— she was the transfer student we got last year, from Seychelles,"
"Oh yeah, I remember her."
"And…" she beamed at him sheepishly.
He raised an eyebrow at her, digging his hands into the pockets of his jeans. "And?"
"…And Francis Bonnefoy may or may not be taking up acting here—"
"What?! That sleazy fuckface is studying here?!" Lovino exclaimed, catching the attention (and glares) of some of the people that surrounded them.
Bella shushed him, motioning downwards with her hands. "Lovi, keep it down!" She giggled. "Unfortunately, yes, he is."
Lovino groaned in protest.
By the time Lovino had pulled away from the ever-loquacious blond, he had ten minutes before his first class started. It was Introduction to Creative Writing, which would carry on from 9 AM to 12 PM.
In his last-minute desperation, he found himself running clear across campus, often bumping into numerous passersby in his haste.
Just as the class was about to begin, he found himself skidding to a halt before his designated classroom. Inadvertently, he'd slammed the door open so hard, it bounced off the wall and nearly closed on him.
Lovino's face flushed in embarrassment and shame. Shit.
Before him were his future block mates, all silently seated and staring at him expectantly.
The professor was poised before the whiteboard, a Pilot marker in her hand positioned inches before the board's surface.
"Shit." He hissed under his breath.
The professor gave him an amiable smile and pointed towards the seats. "Take a seat. You came right on time."
He gave a terse nod before stomping in the classroom and taking a seat in the back of the class in a row no one else occupied.
She then turned to face the class, "Once again~! Good morning, everyone. Welcome to the Introduction to Creative Writing." As she did this, she moved a fraction to scribble her name on the board. "My name is Professor Jacqueline Sharp. Of course, I will help guide you through your journey as a writer. I will be your mentor in regards to the creative process of writing literature. If you cannot handle constructive criticism, I fear that this is not the class for you."
A tense silence filled the room.
Upon receiving no negative reactions, Professor Sharp set the marker down on her desk and folded her arms over her chest. "Right. Albeit the fact that I will be the one to guide you all, do not expect me to make you the next Fitzgerald or Shakespeare." She determinedly pointed at the students before her. "You will have to do that for yourselves. In this class, you will learn how to determine your strengths and weaknesses as a writer. You will all grow as writers as you discover your forte. And if you believe that you have already discovered your forte, I will help you hone it."
She clapped her hands together. "Alright! Everyone, grab a piece of paper. Write a quick introduction about yourself. I'll allot you fifteen minutes. I'm sure that'll be enough."
Almost immediately, the sound of paper rustling around could be heard throughout the room. Lovino, who had just finished catching his breath, pulled his notepad out.
He brought his pen up to the paper and furrowed his brows.
How the fuck do I start?
He was at a loss for what to write.
Dammit. First class in for his future major, and he already had writer's block. How the fuck would he be able to make it in the coming years?!
Fuck my life.
He tapped the end of his pen on the notepad. On a metronome, the tempo of the tapping would have been 260 beats per minute. But he wasn't a musician. He was a writer. He was supposed to write.
He's supposed to be writing, right fucking now.
But what the fuck is he even doing again?
Oh, yeah. Not writing.
An aggravated sigh escapes his lips.
"You okay there?" A voice asks, bringing him out of his thoughts. He gasps in surprise, seeing his professor right beside him. He glances up at her. She's in her late 20's or early 30's, give or take. She has long brown hair tied into a neat ponytail and she has grey eyes. Grey eyes that are looking at him quizzically at the moment.
"Yeah, yeah," he answers automatically. Then he notices his anxious pen-tapping and he stops. "I'm perfectly fine."
Her eyes soften. "You shouldn't stress too much about it. It's just an introductory essay. Half an essay, even. Easy-peasy."
He gulps, hazel eyes glancing back down at his empty page. There are ugly marks on the paper the end of his pen had made from all that tapping. "I know."
But that's the thing, he thinks. I don't know what to say.
That's when he began to panic. As far as he knew, writing has been the only thing he has ever been good at. What if, after all this time, his only talent was apparently a hoax?
What if he was wrong about his talents?
What if he wasn't a good writer after all?
Wh-What if—
"Hey, you okay? You look like you're about to go into cardiac arrest." Professor Sharp had bluntly stated, though there was a trace of humour intended in her words.
He tersely nodded.
She looked at him warily for a second or two more. "Alrighty then. Just come see me if you have any questions, okay?"
Another nod.
With that, she finally walked away and minded another side of the room.
Eventually, Lovino could breathe again. But it didn't make him feel any better.
At a loss for what to write, he decided to go with the standard introductory essay everyone and their mother have written at least once in their lives before.
Yet at the same time, he didn't want that.
He wanted to write something that'd showcase his proficiency in writing, d-dammit…
He absolutely hated that he was being indecisive as fuck.
Lovino couldn't make up his mind. It's just a fucking introductory essay, dammit, get a fucking hold of yourself!
He ran a hand through his hair, nails raking against his scalp. Why do I feel like this?
The Italian took a quick glance around the room. Everyone else were either occupied with their essay or getting to know each other. The room suddenly felt much smaller and he felt so alone.
It was a room full of people, and yet, he knew no one. He would befriend no one. He knew he wouldn't.
And even before college started, he was aware of it. He accepted it entirely. Yet why did it make him feel so terrible right now?
He didn't know what to write, Dio mio. How many minutes had passed? His eyes flickered up to the clock above the whiteboard. He just wasted five minutes. Fuck.
Temporarily shaking off all his indecisive thoughts out of his head, he immediately wrote the typical 'This Is Me' essay.
Basic stuff. Shit nobody really cares about. Outside details, because Dio knows no one would ever want to know what goes on inside his head.
He finished it within ten minutes.
Since it was the first class for that subject, everyone had an early out. They, however, had homework to bring with them already.
"Go somewhere," Professor Sharp had said, "Go anywhere and just write. Write about what is surrounding you, be it the people or the place itself."
"That's it?" Most of the people in class had asked, incredulous.
There was a gleam in her eyes as she affirmed it.
After class had ended, Lovino shuffled towards the general direction of the comfort rooms. The place stank like shit, but it was empty and it was quiet. Exactly what Lovino needed at the moment. He cupped his hands under the icy cold sink water before bringing it to his face.
Dio mio, the water wasn't just cold. It was fucking arctic.
He shivered, becoming more awake. He placed his unusually pallid hands on the rim of the sink, slowly staring up at his reflection. And, truth be told, he was startled by what he saw. When the fuck was the last time he took a long glance at himself in the mirror?
What the hell, were those actually eyebags? Did he really look that tired?
Physical faults aside, he had this train of thought nagging him in the inside.
Truth be told, he knew why he was so startled in the first place. It had come as a realisation to why he had such a difficult time writing that goddamn essay in the first place.
It's because when he looked in the mirror, albeit the fact that, yes, he saw himself, duh… he didn't know who he was inside anymore. Mirrors are not supposed to help you see who you are inside, but your eyes are. Because eyes are like windows to the soul, or some shit, right?
'When you look in the mirror, what do you see?'
I see someone with brown hair. He has a really annoyingly bouncy hair curl that annoys him to no end. He's got hazel eyes, and an ever-present scowl on his face. He looks constipated or like he ate something past its expiry date. Even though his skin is usually lightly tanned, he looks pale and sickly as fuck right now. This fucker seriously needs some goddamn sunlight so he could tan like a golden Italian sex god. Yeah. Or a tanning bed. Actually, fuck tanning beds. That shit's cancerous. But whatever.
This is Lovino Vargas.
'Who is Lovino Vargas?'
Ah… this was what stumped him in the first place.
Lovino Vargas… is the brother of Feliciano Vargas. Lovino is taking a course in Creative Writing under the Department of Performing Arts in Evergreen Hollows University. He is a freshman. He comes from Italy. He loves tomatoes and Italian cuisine. He wants to become a famous writer someday.
…Stop. Rewrite.
Lovino Vargas, brother of Feliciano Vargas, is a freshman taking a course in Creative Writing under the Department of Performing Arts in Evergreen Hollows University. He is an Italian who loves tomatoes and Italian cuisine, and he wants to become a famous writer someday.
Outside details. Details that were already so obvious.
It was all so shallow, so very shallow.
There was no depth to his self-perception.
Lovino hated it. Abhorred it, even.
He didn't know what else to say because he didn't know who he was inside anymore.
Lovino Vargas is nobody. He'd scribbled down on his notepad earlier, taking one long look at it before erasing its existence with correction tape.
If only correcting past mistakes and shortcomings were that easy, si?
Translations:
buon giorno - good morning (It.)
fratello - brother (It.)
idiota - idiot (It.)
Dio - God (It.)
Dio mio - oh my God (It.)
si - yes (It.)
Sorry for the delayed update! I got kinda really busy with school stuff, so I had to set this to the side. Theses SUCK. I'm quite aware that this chapter doesn't really possess the humour of the previous chapters, but this, for once, channelled the angstier side of the story. Plus, it kinda introduced new people. Finally, the redhead has a name!
Just a WARNING: this story will have a long-running plot, as it spans over the course of 3-4 years, and will have 3 Major Arcs: the Scotmano arc, the Spamano arc, and bulk of the Bucket List arc. So as much as I want to go straight to the Spamano arc, more often than not, you can't rush love. I hope you guys will stick around for this story though!
Thanks so much for all of the follows, favourites and reviews~! I'll get back to you all… someday. When I'm not as busy OTL /slapped
I'd really love it if you all reviewed~! I appreciate your feedback. Constructive criticism is welcome~
~jellydonut16~