Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.

Kicking the Bucket List

fifteen

"You see I got a conscience like gasoline
I could siphon shit out, fuck it and leave
But, I fuel the fire with everything they said
It's stuck in my mind, 'You're better off dead'
If you got the keys then start the car and
Drive as far as you can
If you got the blood then you got the heart to
Give yourself a chance
Seems like we've been so scarred
Some people call it art
I hope you make peace with your pain
And never lose your flames"
— Never Lose Your Flames by Issues

Life is a play, Allistor knew that much. The dramatis personae in his life were many and varied, bringing vibrance and colour into his life as a student in Evergreen Hollows University. It had been a wonderful three years indeed, going on four much too soon for his liking.

But then there was him; Lovino Vargas. The aspiring dramatist that had suddenly appeared in his life, occupying his mind much too often to be considered healthy. Truth be told, Allistor never planned to get so… so attached to him, but somehow, they just clicked. They got along splendidly, and there was never a dull moment with him, Lovino. But as of recent, there's been this fluttery feeling that spread throughout Allistor's stomach and chest every single time Lovino happened to be in the room. And Allistor hadn't felt that way in a very long time.

The redhead instantly spotted the Italian from across the room, entering the auditorium with his friends. Victoria, keen as ever, was quick to assess the freshmen, attendance sheets in hand.

Like magnets, the Italian and the Scotsman's eyes instantly met, forest green meeting hazel. Allistor offered the older Vargas twin a coy smile, prompting the latter to blush a light shade of red, the corner of his lips tugging upwards in response. Truth be told, the redhead found it endearing whenever Lovino smiled. Over the past few weeks, he's noticed that Lovino never did it enough. And even then, sometimes his smiles were fake. He wanted to change that.

It was a Friday now; majority of the freshmen were looking forward to the weekend because it meant that they'd finally get some well-deserved time off. However, the seniors constantly had to work around the clock if they wanted to get the play completely perfect in time for the end of the year. In fact, the actors and actresses have begun going over the script with no time to waste. It was heavy and thick; the fruit of Oliver, the playwright's, efforts, as a culmination of his four years here in Evergreen Hollows University. Even now, it was still undergoing revisions.

"How about we grab some pizza after this?" Leila Cross speaks up; she was to portray one of the main characters in the play, and is the treasurer for their group. She oversees all of the costs their play will incur, props and materials included.

"I'm down," Magda easily replies, glancing up from one of the props that needed to be crafted. The British-Indian motions over to the group of freshmen, and select sophomores. "How about we invite the newbies, though? We could call it team building. It'll be good for us, I think."

Leila hums in contemplation. "I suppose we can. Do you think that any of them would want to go?"

"Of course they would!" The other replies, standing up and dusting her hands on her jeans. "How about this; I'll ask them after we're done, alright?"

The French-Polynesian, though skeptical, obliges. Allistor manages to tune out the both of them easily, instead focussing his attention on the Italian across the room.

Lovino was sitting on the tarp-covered ground with Bella beside him, opening the pots of paint for the props they'd be painting. The play seemed like it was going to be somewhat modern and minimalistic. Most colours they had were either white, gold or silver. Colours of lavish purity, reminiscent of masques from times past. It was to be an opera like no other.

A pang in Allistor's chest prompted him to look away. He made his way to the stage, where there were many folding chairs set out. The actors and actresses sat on them as they went through their lines, barely two minutes into the first act. He got up on stage and grabbed a copy of the script off an empty chair and flipped to where they were.

"So," Allistor starts after the freshmen have finished helping out, sitting down beside Lovino on the tarp as the latter hammers the lids back down on the pots and buckets of paint. He sidles quarter of an inch, half an inch closer (not that it made that much of a difference). "After classes, th' seniors an' Ah are going out for pizza, so… We were finkin' we'd invite th' freshmen too an'… an'… would yeh like ta come wif?"

He holds his breath in anticipation as Lovino slowly grows rigid, his eyes downcast on his paint-stained hands.

"Please?" The redhead adds, hoping that'd help.

"He'd love to!" Bella is quick to cut in, placing her equally stained hands on Lovino's shoulders.

"What?" Lovino blurts out, the aghast expression on his face betrayed by the intense reddening of his cheeks.

"We'd love to!" The blond corrects, a million-dollar smile on her face. The very same one that got her 'Best Smile' in the high school yearbook four years in a row. Yes~. Four years. Really. Just as Lovino is about to protest, she quickly shushes him. "We'll see you there. Don't you worry~!"

"You are too stubborn, mon lapin." Francis says, eyeing the Briton sitting beside him.

Arthur Kirkland could only harrumph and cross his arms over his chest. "When will you finally get it in that bloody thick head of yours that I don't want to talk about it! It's over and done now anyway, frog."

An exasperated sigh escapes the Frenchman's lips. "You trust Michelle, yet you don't trust me."

Antonio glances up at the bickering blonds and he frowns. He wasn't very fond of Arthur, even though they'd only known each other for a short time. To him, Arthur was the epitome of an angry old man. One that probably wears dentures and uses a walker, and throws rocks instead of bread crumbs at pigeons in the park. He was much too caustic and melodramatic.

Whenever Franny would try and talk to him, Arthur would start this jeremiad of complaints and excuses, but never about what Francis wanted to discuss with him the most.

But in a way, Arthur was somewhat similar to Lovino, but at the same time, not. Like, they were angry all the time, for one. Maybe it was just some inborn hatred for the earth and everything that happened to live on it. Though Antonio could tolerate the Briton— but just barely— he had much more… patience with the moody Italian. Which was weird, because Antonio's never had a full-out brawl with Arthur in the middle of the courtyard as he did with Lovino. So shouldn't he hate Lovino more..? Why didn't he?

Gilbert sets down his books in front of him, grinning in excitement. Francis draws his attention away from the Briton to greet Gilbert. "Ah, Gilbert. How was class, mon ami?"

The self-proclaimed Prussian nods, alabaster cheeks lightly flushed. "Gott, it— it was great!" He fidgets about in his seat out of excitement. "I met someone."

"Ooh~ Who is it?" Antonio asks, curiosity bringing him out of his thoughts, albeit only temporarily.

"His name is Mathew," he says, crimson eyes gleaming.

This catches Arthur's attention. His olive green eyes widen in recognition. "Mathew?" He echoes. "Mathew Williams?"

The albino finally takes notice of their 'extra guest' and he stares at him warily. "Ja, what's it to you, Tommy?"

Arthur chuckles lowly, slowly shaking his head in amusement. "I doubt you'll be getting any headway with him. He's Alfred's half-brother, git."

Gilbert narrows his eyes a fraction, leaning in and smirking at the Briton. "Oh, don't you worry; I have my ways."

Francis, always the mediator of the group, audibly clears his throat. Time for a subject change. Now.

"Ah~ Antoine! How is everything with Feliciano, by the way?"

"Huh?" Asks Antonio, caught off guard by the question. Arthur snickers. Antonio narrows his eyes at him.

"Any progress with Feli yet?" Franny rephrases, cerulean blue eyes shifting from the brunette to the blond beside him and back.

Emerald green eyes widen as Antonio glances down, almost sheepishly. "Um. Oh." He laughs. "No, not really, amigo~."

Just as Francis is about to question him further, Antonio's phone goes off. The brunette raises a finger up, retrieving the phone from his pocket and pressing it to his ear.

"Antonio." The aforementioned instinctively stiffens at the once-familiar voice.

He turns away before getting up, opting to find a more secluded place. "Alvarez. Hi," he says awkwardly, hyperaware of Gilbert and Francis' concerned stares burning holes into his back. "How's mama?"

Several seconds of tense silence befalls them before his estranged older brother finally speaks up. "Not so well." Antonio's heart sinks to the bottom of his chest. "The doctors say she's getting worse."

His throat constricts painfully; he's finding it hard to speak, let alone find the right words to say. "R-Really?" He manages to choke out.

"I went to visit her the other day. She seemed okay then, but now…" Alvarez trails off, leaving Antonio hanging. A shaky breath escapes his lips as he tightens his grip on his phone.

"You should fly down sometime and visit her. Surely, money isn't a problem, is it?" The Spaniard stiffens. Of course it wasn't. Alvarez worked enough to support all of them lavishly and more. Alvarez is a workaholic. Always has been, probably always will be.

Antonio swallows hard before answering. "No, it isn't."

Several seconds of more awkward silence passes before Alvarez finally decides that Antonio's had enough of his precious time. "Well, I have to go now. I have a meeting in a few minutes."

"Adios, Alvarez," saying his name leaves a bitter taste on Antonio's tongue, however guilty it made him feel.

"Adeus, Antonio. I'll contact you if something comes up." Alvarez answers, tone curt and clipped; business-like. As always.

Click.

Antonio holds the phone to his ear, even after Alvarez has hung up. The smartphone had considerably heated up because of the call. Slowly, he draws the phone down to his side, eyes downcast. A million things are running through his mind, not a single one of them the least bit pleasant. He walks back to the others, the news dampening his spirits.

Francis and Gilbert look up at him. "Who was that?" Francis asks.

Antonio feigns a smile. "Ah, it was just mi hermano. He was calling to make sure I didn't spend all my money and all."

That was a lie.

If there was one thing that Francis and Gilbert knew about Antonio and his brother, it was that his older brother didn't particularly care how he spent his money. A drunken online purchase of a barrel of sangria and two giant googly eyes could attest to that. The two eye him warily. Something was up.

Antonio meets their inquisitive gazes, usually vibrant green eyes growing a little more weary; tired. He knows they know there's something amiss. But he shakes his head tersely, eyes pleading them, please, not now.

"Later then," Gilbert mouths, imperceptibly nodding in response.

Arthur barely pays the exchange between the trio any mind, his own olive green eyes focussed on the person casually striding towards them. It was none other than his older brother, Allistor.

"'Ello!" The redhead greets, grinning at them.

Francis, having known the Scotsman due to their course of Performing Arts, takes the initiative and introduces him to his friends. "Bonjour, Allistor. Allistor, these are mes amis, Gilbert and Antonio." Allistor firmly shakes Gilbert and Antonio's hands.

"Gilbert, Antonio; good ta meet yeh." Says the redhead, drawing back.

Arthur warily glances up at his brother. "What can I do for you, brother mine?" He asks, sarcasm dripping off his words.

Allistor can only laugh in amusement. "Ah swear ta God, yeh watch too much Sherlock. Ah'm no Mycroft; maybe Liam is, but not me. Anyways, tell Colin Ah'll be 'ome late tonigh'. Ah'm goin' out for dinner wif me mates, yeh got tha'?"

The blond rolls his eyes. "But of course. Now bugger off."

"Yeh'll get over it soon enough, brother mine." Allistor drawls, chortling before waving at them and walking away.

Later after classes, Lovino hitched a ride with Bella as they rendezvoused with the others in a pizza parlour, La Cucina Italiano. It wasn't big, but it was large enough to have ample seating to accommodate them all, even on a Friday night. The restaurant neared the outskirts of the city, a few kilometres away from the ugly mall Lovino hated with every fibre of his being. And it had a parking lot, thank God.

The moment the two stepped in, the wafting aroma of pizza and cooking garlic hit them like a ton of bricks; Lovino especially, as he hadn't had anything for lunch, save for a mason jar of pink lemonade and a croque-monsieur. He took in his surroundings as his stomach growled. La Cucina Italiano looked somewhat classier than other run-of-the-mill pizzerias; it was homelier, at that. The golden yellow stucco walls offset the orange tiles beneath his feet, as he wound his way through numerous wooden tables draped with red and white chequered tablecloth. Many of the tables were taken.

Bella had grabbed hold of Lovino's hand and led them to the very back of the room where everyone else was. The tables were joined together in order to make one large table. The seniors were already there, two of which were busily rattling off everyone's orders to a waiter.

Elizabeta and Feliks were already there; Michelle wanted to go back home and take a shower, so she isn't here yet. Lovino's heart skipped a beat the moment he saw the back of Allistor's head. Bella pulled him forward and sat a seat apart from the Scotsman, beside Elizabeta. Lovino stilled before glaring at Bella and sitting beside perfection personified. Eliza leant forward and gave him a suggestive wink, but he was too busy staring at his hands to notice. His face had grown considerably red, all the way to the tips of his ears.

Allistor hadn't taken notice of the Italian yet, as he was busy talking to one of his friends. This caught Bella's eye, so she feigned a yawn and reached over Lovino's shoulder so she could give the redhead a nudge. Allistor jolted in surprise, turning to find Lovino hunched beside him. He beamed.

"Hey, yeh came tonigh'!" The Scot exclaims, shifting around in his seat to face the Italian. Lovino could feel the heat radiating from Allistor's body.

"Yeah," the former mumbles in response.

"Ah'm glad. 'Ow was class, Lov?"

"Fine."

Lovino hated how his mind was such a blank, he was a mess whenever he was with Allistor. As of late, it's been getting shittier; best he could come up with were monosyllabic responses, and he hated it. So, so very much.

Allistor was bound to get fed up with him that way, and it was like Lovino was teetering on top of a fulcrum. Over the past few weeks, he was relatively close enough to Allistor to walk up and talk to him, but he really didn't want to say anything that would scare him away, or turn him off. God knows Lovino ruined everything he touched. And it was just so fucking hard. So there he was, precariously dissecting everything he could say until all he could say consisted of one word, maybe three at most— Jesus Christ, this is the reason why he avoided people in the first place. He couldn't socialise for shit. He possessed no savoir faire whatsoever, which only worsened the anxiety he got around people. The only people that talked to him were the ones who initiated all the talking, save for Feli and Nonno, because they're family. They had to talk to him. So there's Bella. Sometimes Feliks and Elizabeta. He rarely got to talk to Michelle.

Then there was him; perfection personified. Oh, God, did he— Allistor— try. Lovino had no idea why the redhead still stuck around a dweeb like him, one that couldn't even carry a conversation without swearing like a sailor, or trailing off because he didn't know what to say. But bless him for that, Dio. Oh, God. Bless him for trying.

But Lovino was so scared to reach out to him in fear of falling and never being able to get up again. Dio, he felt so conflicted, he didn't know what to do or say anymore. Sometimes, Lovino thought that it would have been better if Allistor overlooked him entirely that day he signed up for the PAS, but no. Allistor gave a shit about him, something no one outside his family— save for Bella— has ever done.

And that meant so fucking much. So much, Lovino was afraid the smallest move would ruin it all. Like a house of cards toppled over at the slightest breath.

"Yeh're so quiet nowadays. Anyfing goin' on?" The redhead presses on, leaning forward so he could have a better look-see at Lovino.

"Yeah," Lovino automatically responds, breaking out of his thoughts. Then he shakes his head tersely. "I mean no. No, I'm fine." He facepalms himself. Why the hell couldn't he do anything right? "Dammit."

"Yeh seem stressed, Lov. School finally catching up ta yeh?"

Oh, God. He's too close. Allistor is too close. He's leaning in, and the heat radiating off of him rolls over Lovino's skin in waves. Dio, he smelled amazing. The Scotsman's intoxicating scent saturates the air around him, nearly suffocating him (it'd be a pleasurable death, he subconsciously thinks). His breath grew a little quicker, his mind a little hazier; Lovino manages to mumble a 'No fucking way, I graduated high school with honours; this shit doesn't faze me'.

Allistor laughs, and Lovino falls for him even more. "Well, just try an' relax today, okay? Yeh deserve it."

"How do yeh find yer pizza?" Allistor asks, as Lovino takes another slice of pizza. "Ah mean, in terms of yer expertise in Italian food."

"It's an American pizza." Is the Italian's response, as if that was all that needed to be said, and together, they laugh. After the laughter subsides, however, he continues. "Well, there's too much cheese— as the American standard— nearly not enough tomato sauce, and I don't think Americans have ever heard of the words 'basil' or 'herbs' before. Plus," he lifts his pizza up and points at the oil residue on his plate. "It's too oily. Real Italian pizza doesn't drip with oil."

Allistor nods, intently listening. "Do go on, Lov. This is very much invigorating."

"Um," A breathless laugh escapes Lovino's lips. "Yeah. Look at the crust. Pan crusts are a no-no."

"Ooh, a no-no. Fascinating."

Lovino couldn't help but roll his eyes, playfully shoving Allistor's shoulder away. "Shut up, dammit. Anyways, the crust is too thick. It's supposed to be thinner, much thinner, and not oily at all."

Allistor leans back, smiling at Lovino. He grabs his fork and holds it close to his mouth akin a mic. "Well, tha' was an excellent dissertation on pizza, Chef Lovino. So tell us, when is th' new restaurant opening?"

He holds the fork near Lovino's mouth, and the latter snorts, pushing Allistor's hand away. "What the hell are you doing?"

The redhead speaks into the fork once again, "Th' grand opening, chef! Of yer new restaurant!"

An exasperated laugh escapes Lovino's lips. "I am not doing this. I swear to God."

But Allistor ignores him anyway and continues holding the 'mic' an inch or so from Lovino's lips. The latter finally gives in and entertains the Scotsman.

"Fine." He clears his throat, and replies in a poor impression of a French accent. "Wee-wee, Ah em very… excited, honhon baguette, to introduce ze… Ze my new restaurant, Château Frog, on ze twenty-fifth. One of my favoureet dishes to make ees ze escargot— ze snail?— and ze frog's legs? House special, eet ees ze house special. You should try eet sometime, monsieur." He kisses the tips of his fingers on one hand before he flourishes it before himself. "Eet is tres magnifique!"

Allistor howls in laughter, clutching his stomach. "God, Lov, yeh're amazing!" He roars in between fits of laughter. Without being fully aware of it, he cups Lovino's cheeks and leans in. "Ah could jus' kiss yeh righ' now,"

Then all grows silent. Lovino's face becomes very, very red as he stares at Allistor, wide-eyed. "U-Uh," Lovino stammers out, abruptly standing up from his seat. "I need to wash my hands."

The Italian is quick to rush off, eyes downcast. It feels like his cheeks are on fire. He heads to the hand washing area and twists the tap on, shoving his hands under the water. Allistor can't be serious, right? It— It was just in the moment, dammit, it didn't mean a thing! So just calm the fuck down. Calm the fuck down.

Lovino's scrubbing furiously at his hands, too lost in his thoughts to register anything else. So it was no surprise that he jumped upon seeing Allistor's reflection in the mirror. The Scot laughs at his reaction before standing beside Lovino so he, too, could wash his hands. Lovino automatically steps aside.

"Are yeh going 'ome after this?" Allistor asks.

The Italian resolutely avoids meeting his gaze, his cheeks still glowing a very deep red.

"Um, yeah. I'm waiting for Bella to finish so she can drive me home."

"Oh?" Allistor glances up at him before he returns his focus to rinsing his hands. "Well, Ah can drive yeh 'ome if yeh want."

"No, it's— it's okay. I don't want to burden you or anything, dammit." The older Vargas is quick to cut in.

"'Ow many times do Ah 'ave ta tell yeh? Yeh're nota burden. Really, Lov, do yeh really fink tha' lowly of yerself?"

Despite all of earlier's jests, a terse silence confirms it all.

The redhead is quick to make best of the situation. "Say, 'ow about yeh an' me go for a drink. Wait. Do yeh even drink?"

Lovino looks at him incredulously, thankful for the change of topic. "Of course I do. I'm Italian."

"Let's grab a pint then. On me. An' Ah know jus' th' place."

A small smirk tugs at the corner of Lovino's lips as their eyes met. "Sure."

The 'just the place' Allistor spoke of was a German-Irish rathskeller called Dudley's Pub. Allistor parked his dark green Mustang in front of the bar, and opened the door for Lovino despite the Italian's protests. He was punched in the arm as just retribution.

Dudley's Pub was fuggy with cigarette smoke. The more 'health-conscious' ones used vapes, or electronic cigarettes in their steads. Either way, the secondhand smoke would fuck them all. Allistor easily weaved his way through the pub, grabbing an empty table. Music by Rammstein was barely heard over the commotion; the flatscreen TV overhead the corner of the bar showing a football (not rugby, mind you) match was on mute. There were several men seated at the bar, watching intently.

"Ah'll be righ' back. Heineken good?"

Lovino snaps out of his thoughts and turns to Allistor. He internally withered at the notion of partaking beer without getting totally schwasted. But for perfection personified? He'd drink a tower of it. "Sure."

And just like that, Allistor disappears into the crowd.

"Come on, Toni. Gott, it's a Friday night! We used to do this all the time!" Gilbert urges, shaking a glum Antonio's shoulders. "It'll get your mind off of things."

"I agree with Gilbert, Antoine." Francis concurs, eyeing the Spaniard with concern. "You need a drink."

"I think we all do!" Says Gilbert, trying to pull Antonio up. The latter lets himself be pulled up to his feet almost obsequiously. "Fick ja! Time for the Bad Touch Trio to go out and about!"

Antonio manages a small tired smile.

"Let's go bar-hopping," Gilbert continues, manoeuvring Antonio out of the apartment the three of them shared. "We'll drink 'til we drop!"

"But who'll drive?" Antonio asks.

Gilbert pauses for a second before shrugging his shoulders. "We'll grab a taxi. Don't you worry, mein Freund, this night will be awesome."

"So Oliver is proper drunk, yeah? In 'is inebriated state, he climbs over th' gate, an' 'e ends up stealin' a bloody golf cart! Security is chasin' after 'im, Mags is screaming bloody murder, an' all Ah could do was laugh!"

Lovino leans over the table, doubling up in laughter.

"Basically," Allistor concludes, "We aren't allowed in that mall anymore. It were a good fing we weren't arrested! God." He facepalms himself. "Ah was such a ned then, Lov. Yeh would not believe half th' stupid shit Ah've done in college."

"Tell me!" Lovino urges before he gulps the last of his beer. They've had two pints each now, and Lovino's got a nice buzz going on. Good vibes. He eyes Allistor through the bottom of his beer glass. He'd have called them literal beer goggles, but he only has one mug. Perhaps it can be a beer telescope, si?

"No, no," the Scotsman says, shaking his head. "Ah'd die of embarrassment. Ah'm honestly surprised Ah wasn't arrested."

"That bad?"

"Yes, sadly."

"No way."

"Yes way."

"No freaking way."

"Are yeh truly tha' surprised?"

"Of course I am! Look at you! You wouldn't hurt a fly."

"Really, now?" Allistor straightens up. Lovino internally revels in this triumph. The redhead so took the bait. "Well, Ah'll 'ave yeh know tha' Ah—"

And then he suddenly cuts off, forest green eyes widening in realisation. He gives Lovino a knowing grin, waggling his finger at him. "Ah, ah, ah! Ah know wha' yer trying ta do, yeh sneaky li'l bugger!"

The Italian smacks his hand away, flushing a bright red. "Sh-shut up! I wasn't trying to do anything, dammit!"

"Oh, but yeh were," Allistor insists, his tone taking on a teasing lilt. He sits up straighter, grabbing both of the beer mugs on the small wooden table. "Yeh up for another one?"

Lovino takes them from him and gets up from the equally small wooden stool. "Yeah. I'll pay this time. You want pretzel sticks too?"

"Nah, Ah'm full." Allistor says, waving a hand dismissively.

"Sure. I'll get some for myself then." Lovino says, making his way over to the bar.

"Ooh~ I've never been here before~!" Says Antonio, as the Bad Touch Trio made their way down the concrete stairs of a pub they'd just discovered, a couple of blocks away from Bacchus, a wine bar Francis often frequented. It was called Dudley's Pub. It seemed pretty nice~!

Once the trio got down, they saw that the room was relatively crowded, buzzing with all sorts of activity. They managed to snag three empty seats, as a guy just vacated one and stumbled towards the staircase.

Gilbert immediately ordered three bottles of beer and a bowl of nuts while Antonio started watching the football match on TV. Francis automatically starts scanning the bar for anyone who could be his one night bedfellow. Cerulean blue eyes glaze over the bartenders, and he sees one on the opposite end of the room, a pretty brunette with a sizeable bust. She was busy animatedly talking to— Francis's eyes widen— Lovino Vargas? He was leaning over the bar, a coquettish smile playing upon his lips as he charmed the bartender to the nines.

She fills up two pint pots with Heineken from the beer tap and languidly slides it over to him, leaning down just in case Lovino wanted to take a gander at her chest.

This undoubtedly piqued the Frenchman's curiosity. Why would Lovino be here of all places? It's a rathskeller; something of German design. Plus he would usually be adverse to any trace of human existence. But perhaps it is because he came with someone? That other pint has to belong to someone else, after all, oui?

The bartender sets a plastic cup of pretzel sticks down on the counter, slipping a piece of paper into the Italian's hand. Lovino smirks at her before walking off, two pints of beer in one hand, a cup of pretzel sticks in the other.

From across the room, Francis follows Lovino with his eyes, wholly surprised to see the truculent Italian sitting in front of Allistor Kirkland, a more gentle smile on the Vargas twin's face.

Oh. Well.

This is quite… interesting, to say the least.

"…Hey. Franny. Franny, are you listening?" The blond forces himself to turn away and face Gilbert.

"Yes, mon ami?"

Gilbert blinks in disbelief. "You weren't listening to a word I said? Gott. Anyways, so I got to talk to Mathew earlier, ja?"

Francis absently nods, majority of his attention still on the odd couple in the back of the room. If they really were an item, he could only hope that Antonio's sudden fascination with Lovino was short-lived, and that it would go away as fast as it came.

After downing his beer, he took a quick glance behind him. Allistor and Lovino were gone.

It was nice being in Allistor's car. The plush leather seats were nice, the car was nice, the person who drove the car was even nicer.

Nice, nice, nice.

Together, they rode in this mellow and comfortable silence, the buzz still going strong. Lovino slowly turned to face Allistor, admiring the silhouette of his face in the passing streetlights. Even though the crossroad was barren of any other cars, the moment the stoplight turned from green to yellow, Allistor didn't book it; he slowed down to a halt as the light turned red.

Lovino, being the covert Italian Speed Demon he was, found the action agonising. When a light is yellow, you put the pedal to the fucking metal, especially if there aren't any other cars around. It's like common knowledge! It's universal!

As they sit in more silence, Allistor leans forward and switches the radio on. Ed Sheeran is pouring out of the speakers, crooning out the first verse of Thinking Out Loud. To Lovino's surprise, Allistor starts to sing along to it. "Will yer mouth still remember th' taste of my love? Will yer eyes still smile from your cheeks?"

And their eyes met. "And, darling, Ah will be loving yeh 'til we're seventy."

A smile crept onto Lovino's lips, as Allistor continued singing. "And, baby, my heart could still fall as hard at twenty-three."

That's when Lovino couldn't help but jump in, prompting Allistor's eyes to widen in pleasant shock. "And I'm thinking 'bout how people fall in love in mysterious ways, maybe just the touch of a hand. Me, I fall in love with you every single day. And I just wanna tell you I am—"

"So honey now~" Allistor sung, voice cracking a bit at the end. They laugh it off; upon noticing the light's turned green, the redhead kept on driving.

"Maybe we found love right where we are." Lovino sings under his breath, hyperaware of the Scotsman turning to look at him every so often.

The ride ends too soon; much too fast for Lovino's liking. The Mustang is parked outside the Vargas brothers' apartment building, and all is still. The radio is still on, but it's much more quieter. Truth be told, Allistor doesn't want Lovino to leave, and he has a hunch Lovino doesn't want to go either.

The night was still young, wasn't it?

Allistor glanced at the clock built into the stereo. It was nearing one AM.

No, it wasn't. It was an ungodly hour in the morning.

He slowly looks up at Lovino, and the Italian does the same. The Scot can't help but laugh and smile. "Ah always 'ave fun when Ah'm wif yeh, Lov." He starts, and Lovino can't help but notice the way the corners of Allistor's eyes crinkle when he smiles. "It's— It's like Ah forget everything; th' play, th' deadlines, th' re'earsals, an' Ah get ta live in th' moment, if only for a bit."

"Same," Lovino lamely says, sincerely at a loss for words.

The Scotsman leans in a bit closer to Lovino. "Yer face is so red," he points out, prompting the Italian to blush even deeper.

"I know," the Vargas brother grumbles, covering his burning cheeks with the palms of his hands. "I hate it."

"Ah like it though." He leans in even closer. Lovino subconsciously does the same, hands drifting back down to his lap. Allistor bites his bottom lip before he reaches up and brushes a stray tendril of dark brown hair away from Lovino's face.

"Ah like yer face." Allistor whispers, and Lovino instinctively smacks Allistor's hand away.

"Sh-shut up, dammit!" Allistor laughs, and in that one precious, ephemeral moment, everything is so fucking perfect, and it's all because of perfection personified beside him.

"Ah guess it's about time Ah let yeh go, innit? Ah've kept yeh hostage in me car long enough. Sorry, Lov; yeh must be proper knackered righ' now."

"It's fine," the Italian mumbles, undoing his seatbelt. "I don't mind."

"Well, Ah'm glad. Say, when do yeh fink we can… do this again?"

Wait. What? Is he— Is he serious? Answer. Answer, dammit!

"What about tomorrow, for dinner?" He manages to croak out, blushing too hard to function. Dio mio.

It's Allistor's turn to flush this time. "Yes, right! That'd be wonderful!"

The two exchange numbers before Lovino finally exits the car. Allistor smiles at him. "Goodnight, Lov."

The brunette manages a small smirk back. "Buono notte, bastard." He slams the door shut and makes his way to the building without a second glance back. When he's safely inside the lobby, Allistor finally drives off.

Lovino uses his key and smoothly sidles into the apartment without any ruckus. The moment he got to his room, he flopped down on his bed and expected to be out like a light. But he couldn't stop smiling; he couldn't stop laughing to himself. He was too giddy, too wired to sleep.

Bzzzt!

Allistor: Tonight was amazing. See you tomorrow ;-)

"Ve~ How was dinner last night, fratello?" Feliciano asks, bustling around the kitchen making breakfast as Lovino lounged on the couch in the living room, busying himself with channel-surfing.

"Fine," Lovino mumbles, honestly still half-asleep even at nine in the morning. After last night, it took him a while to finally succumb to slumber. And even then, it was already three AM. So technically, he lacked a few more hours of sleep.

Bzzzt!

Allistor: Good morning Lov :-)

Lovino flushes a bright shade of red, biting his bottom lip to keep himself from smiling. He casts a quick sideway glance at Feliciano. He was busy sautéing chicken breasts. Making himself a little bit more comfortable on the couch, Lovino unlocked his phone and typed out a reply before hitting the backspace.

Shit. What should he say?

He nervously licks his lips.

Lovino: Morning to you too

Then he hits 'send'. Wait. What if it looks too serious? Goddammit. Lovino sent a sleepy face emoji just in case.

Oh, God. Allistor has read receipts set on. The older Vargas brother's heart nearly palpitates upon quickly seeing a 'Read 9:36' underneath his message. He's awake right now (of course he is, Lovino, you fucking spastic noodle), and he's fucking typing a reply.

Bzzzt!

Allistor: What time should I pick you up? Have a place in mind yet? :-)

Did Allistor really have to put noses on his smiley faces like that? It looks all awkward now. Only old people do that, don't they? Goddammit, Allistor, bless your fucking heart. You are a precious human being.

Lovino could only rack his mind for something relatively comprehensible in response.

Lovino: Nah not yet. Maybe around 7?

The Italian quickly glances up to see Feli busily plating their food, even though it was just for breakfast. Force of habit, maybe.

"Fratello, it's time to eat~!" The younger twin sings out, setting both plates on the dining table they seldom used.

"Yeah, yeah," Lovino mumbles, getting up from the couch. He takes a seat as Feli sets two mugs of coffee in front of him, quickly leaning down to peck his cheek.

"I feel like I rarely ever see you anymore!" Feliciano whines, sitting on the chair across him.

Lovino thinks of Allistor and feels guilty for a moment. "I've been busy, you know? With helping out after classes and all…"

"I miss you, Lovi~."

The older Vargas brother leans over to ruffle Feliciano's hair, eliciting a breathy 'Ve~' from his brother's lips. "I miss you too, idiot."

The twins spent the day watching movies on HBO, just catching up on life. Well, it was Feliciano, rather, the one who was following up what's been going on the past few weeks, whilst Lovino merely made comments. Honestly? He didn't really want to divulge anything to Feli about his… his fixation with Allistor. It was bad enough Elizabeta found out, but who can keep secrets from someone like her nowadays? Dio, she's like Gretchen from Mean Girls.

She knows everything about everyone. That's why her boobs are so big; they're full of secrets.

When the afternoon rolled around, however, Feliciano finally rolled off of the couch after the two brothers took a siesta, and got ready to go to Ludwig and Kiku's apartment. It wasn't really an apartment per se, but more of a boarding house to cater to the students of Evergreen Hollows University.

"Ve~ I'm going to Kiku's, Lovi," he whispers into Lovino's ear, crouching down beside his brother on the couch. He brushes the hair out of his fratellone's face and runs his fingers through Lovi's hair.

Ve~ It's so nice when Lovi is asleep. It's quiet, it's peaceful~

"Leave me alone," Lovino mumbles, voice laced with sleep.

The younger twin smiles before leaving the apartment, locking the door behind him.

"Hey, Lov," Allistor greets as Lovino gets into the Mustang and shuts the door close.

"Hey," Lovino greets back, putting on his seatbelt.

"Got a place in mind?" The redhead asks, pulling out of his spot in front of the apartment building.

Lovino shakes his head. "No, I slept on it. I got nothing."

"Well, Ah know this nice Japanese place uptown. Wanna go there?"

"Whatever's fine with me, I guess." The Italian picks at the hem of his black button down. "H-How was your day, bastard?"

"Oh, it was great! Not much progress, but yeah. Th' work of a play director is never done until th' play has gone on. Then, it's all Ty's job now as a stage director ta make sure everyfing runs smoothly. Ah'm more on th' creative process, really."

A silence thick with tension fell between them. It was weird and it was awkward, but not in a bad way. It was like they knew, or at least had a damn good hunch, to where they were inevitably headed. Allistor even switched the radio on and all, but still, it couldn't pull them out of this limbo between being friends and being something more— so much more. As the redhead reached down to change gears, his hand accidentally brushed against Lovino's. The latter flinched, pulling his hand away as if he'd been burnt.

"Sorry, did Ah hurt yeh?" Allistor is quick to ask, reaching out to try and grab Lovino's hand without looking away from the road.

"No, don't— don't fucking worry about it, dammit. It's fine. Nothing happened." Lovino is quick to answer, whacking the redhead's hand away.

"Sure now, Lov?" He presses on.

"Dead sure."

"Yeh know yeh can talk ta me about anyfink, righ'?"

Lovino's heart skipped a beat. No, he couldn't. He wouldn't. Allistor probably wouldn't be able to handle it.

"I guess," the Italian lamely says, glancing up at Allistor.

The Scotsman took him to a sushi bar somewhere in the area Bella lived, uptown. They managed to snag the last two vacant seats next to each other. Lovino stared at all the different types of sushi passing by on conveyor belts. Dio, it was actually cool as fuck.

He ordered some warm sake for the both of them as they started picking off small coloured plates off of the conveyor belt. As they ate, the two debated the pros and cons of making plays and films. Allistor was all for theatre, whereas Lovino preferred movies. After dinner, upon Allistor's insistence and despite Lovino's protests, the redhead paid the bill and left no room for argument when it was already done. The two got in the Mustang and the redhead switched the ignition on before pulling out of the parking slot and entering the main road back to the heart of the city.

They sat in silence for a while, just enjoying each other's company, before the redhead spoke up. "Say, Lov?"

"Mm?"

Allistor taps his fingers on the steering wheel, staring intently at the road before laughing. "Ah forgot wha' Ah was going ta say."

Lovino rolls his eyes.

"Oh, yeah! Ah remember now. Ah hope yeh don't mind me asking, but… Why do yeh underestimate yerself, Lov? Because yeh are worth so much more than yeh fink."

Taken aback by the question, Lovino is stunned into silence before he finally stammers out, "I-It's a long story. You probably wouldn't even want to hear it anyway, bastard."

"But Ah want to. Ah want ta help, an' Ah know Ah can." Allistor urges, brows knitting together in seriousness. "If yeh let me."

"It's like… I want to trust you, but I don't know if I can…" Lovino quietly admits, staring at his hands. "God, I'm such a mess."

Yeh could be my mess, the redhead subconsciously thinks to himself.

Allistor frowns and looks at Lovino with concern. "Lov, Ah could never betray yer trust. Ah would never judge yeh. Maybe other people have, but tha's because they were too daft to look past wha's on th' outside. A-And even though we've only known each other for a short time, yeh mean a lot ta me, Lov. More than Ah ever expected yeh to."

"Yeah? W-Well… it's just— it's just so hard." Lovino swallows hard, his expression grim despite his reddening cheeks. "Last time I truly trusted someone was back in high school, during my sophomore year. His name was Julio. He was an Italian, like Feli and me, so when we first met as freshmen, I thought to myself, grazie a Dio, someone I can connect with. And so we did. If anything, I guess you could call Julio my ex-best friend. We used to be able to tell each other everything, but I guess he got fed up with all my complaining or something, because one day, he just suddenly snapped."

"You know what you are?" Julio roars, shoving Lovino back before grabbing the collar of the Italian's shirt and pulling him forward 'til they were nose-to-nose. "You're a damned brat. A damned, whiny brat that has nothing to complain about, yet you still manage to find faults in everything around you! You have no right to complain when other people have it so much more fucking worse than you, and even then, they don't complain! They don't say shit! You know why? It's because they have the fucking balls to suck it the fuck up. Even if life is shit for them, at least they find it in themselves to go on. Unlike you, all you do is fucking mope around even though you literally have no problems at all. You fucking ungrateful brat. There are others out there who have worked their entire goddamn lives, and yet, they haven't earned the allowance you get in one fucking month. You are a waste of space. In fact? You're better off dead. You won't make it in the real world. And you know what? This godforsaken world would be so much better off without you."

And with that, Julio shoved Lovino back. Without a second thought, Lovino grabbed Julio's wrist, reared his fist back and punched him square in the face. Julio clutched his nose, screaming obscenities at the Italian, his hand soaked with blood.

Though numb, Lovino managed to walk away without a single glance back.

He never forgot what Julio said.

"You're better off dead."

"And we just had a falling out. I haven't seen him since. I think he dropped out or something." Lovino instinctively tightens his grip on the steering wheel, breathing growing more shallow. For fuck's sake. This shouldn't matter anymore. "I trust Bella, though. But there are just some things I don't want to burden anybody with the same way I probably burdened Julio."

Allistor suddenly pulls over to the side of the road. "Oh, Lov," he says, adjusting the gears. "Get out."

Hazel eyes widen in disbelief. "What?"

The redhead nods in insistence. "Get out. Let's switch."

And with that, he exits the car and opens the passenger door. Lovino looks him warily in confusion before he sits in the driver's seat. The Scot sits beside him, pulling his seatbelt on. "Yer seatbelt, Lov,"

Lovino puts on his seatbelt and stares at the redhead expectantly. "What the hell are we doing?"

Allistor smiles at him. "We're going on a joyride. Drive."

"What?"

The Scotsman shrugs. "It'll get yer mind off of fings. Now please, Lov, just start driving."

Lovino decides to leave it at that and slowly shakes his head in amusement. "I'm an Italian. You shouldn't have done that." He revs the engine as if to make his point before smoothly pulling out and driving down the road.

Allistor tightens his grip on the seat but laughs nonetheless.

The Italian unlocked his inner Speed Demon and sped down the highway, pushing the speed limits when there were cops on standby and the car's own limits when they weren't.

The joyride lasts well into the night, so by the time Lovino arrives at his apartment building, his hands are somewhat numb and tingly from all the driving. Allistor beams at him, "God, tha' was incredible."

Lovino couldn't help but smile back. "You think? It actually worked. You successfully cheered me up. Congratulations, bastard."

The Scot leans in close, so close Lovino could feel their breaths mingling together. He coyly smirks at the blushing Italian before whispering, "Glad Ah could be of help."

Monday rolled around again and brought a Spaniard with it. A Spaniard, no matter how hard he tried, couldn't exactly get past the older Vargas twin's adamantine walls.

"Good morning, Lovino!" He greets, already expecting a slew of insults.

"Yeah, morning to you too, asshole." Lovino mutters, no venom whatsoever in his tone. That was a first~! And he actually greeted him back! Amazing!

Wh-What if Antonio decided to apologise? Slowly choosing his words, he begins to speak. "I know we haven't had the best experiences together, but can we just start over? Please?"

Lovino chuckles, "Yeah, no."

Antonio frowns, perplexed. "S-So is that a yes or a no—"

"No." And Lovino laughs, and it's the most beautiful sound Antonio has ever heard. The Spaniard finds himself short of breath being in the older Vargas brother's presence.

That was when Antonio finally realised his interest in Feliciano had long waned.

He had a (not-so) small crush on Lovi.

Translations:

mon lapin - my bunny (Fr.)
mon ami - my friend (Fr.)
Gott - God (Dt.)
ja - yes (Dt.)
amigo - friend (Esp.)
adios - goodbye (Esp.)
adeus - goodbye (Pt.)
mi hermano - my brother (Esp.)
bonjour - hello (Fr.)
mes amis - my friends (Fr.)
Dio - God (It.)
tres magnifique - very magnificent (Fr.)
fick ja - fuck yeah (Dt.)
mein Freund - my friend (Dt.)
si - yes (It.)
ned - a hooligan (Scot.)
oui - yes (Fr.)
Dio mio - oh my God (It.)
buono notte - goodnight (It.)
fratello - brother (It.)
fratellone - older brother (It.)
grazie a Dio - thank God (It.)

I just need to address something:

Garbage Queen: I apologise for the inaccurate description about getting high, as I've only the Internet and Ned Vizzini's It's a Funny Kind of Story as the bases for my limited knowledge. There is a part in Vizzini's story where the main character, Craig, gets high for the first time and things started to visually distort.

Regarding Hungary— to each their own. I have many interpretations of her character, and this is only the characterisation she had for this particular story.

I should probably mention that Lovino's squad is loosely based on The Plastics from Mean Girls, a myriad of Tumblr posts, the Youtube show 'The Most Popular Girls In School', as well as my own tight-knit group of friends.

Also, Hungary is a troll in this fic. (#umadbro)

Additionally, I do not 'fetishise' homosexual relationships, albeit the fact that this is a boyxboy story. Where is your basis for this statement, since you do not know me personally? If you cannot back up that statement with a credible truth, then that is akin a conclusion without a premise. A fallacy, or a faulty argument; specifically, ad hominem, or argument against the person.

So if my knowledge in philosophy is right, your argument is invalid.

If you wish to debase this story, please do so with at least some critique and suggestions on how I can correct the error of my ways, as well as credible proof.

Once again, to each their own. I know this story doesn't appeal to most readers, but at least it does to some. They are the ones that matter.

But I appreciate your passionate feedback. I doubt you'll be reading this story again anytime soon, but thank you for pointing out a flaw in Hungary's character for me. I'll be sure to keep that in mind.

Regards,

~jellydonut16~

P.S. Formalities aside…

Achievement unlocked!
They see me rollin', they hatin' Award.
• Unlock your first flame

Achievement unlocked!
This girl is on fire Award.
• Get a combo of 2 or more flames

Achievement unlocked!
Shots received Award
• Acknowledge flame/s

Achievement unlocked!
Shots fired Award
• Reply to flame/s

P.P.S. tAK E T HE IN T ER NET A W AY FR OM M E

Also, thank you guys for all the feedback! I really love hearing from you all. I hope I didn't disappoint you guys with this chapter. Sorry for such a late update. Please don't forget to review~!