A/N: Just listen to Roxanne the whole time you read this. Please, enjoy.
Lovino lay in Antonio's arms. He trembled as memories bubbled to the surface, playing in a movie before his eyes. The happy memories, the sad memories, the memories that tore his heart apart. They all jumbled together trying to fight each other for the prime spot of wrecking the boy's sanity. They beat against his walls he had built. The walls were carefully constructed to hold in everything that could link back to the Spaniard. And yet...
Soft kisses were placed gently across his skin as he stared blankly at the ceiling. Antonio's arms were loosely wrapped around Lovino, but it felt like a prison to the young man. A prison he once longed for with every ounce of his soul... but now he couldn't stand. He didn't deserve this man that was in bed with him. Lovino wanted to leave. A small voice in the back of his head screamed at him to leave. Leave and never come back. The Spaniard broke him... he had to protect himself.
"Lovino..." The name was whispered like a prayer in his ear. He couldn't leave. He could never leave. They had been apart for nearly two years. What had torn them apart in the first place? His hazel eyes moved from the ceiling to the older man next to him. Eyes met and he was a captive. One memory broke through the rest with a fury that brought tears to his eyes.
He was raging mad. His hands shook. He was nearly seeing red. Lovino was throwing things, knocking them over, savoring in the sound of ceramic and glass breaking. Antonio was there. The man was standing in the middle of the room while Lovino went mad.
It was dark and Lovino couldn't see much, but he could see Antonio covering his mouth with pity in his eyes as he watched the boy destroy his estate he had inherited. Lovino's heart ached to go to the man. To ask, no, to beg, for forgiveness. But he couldn't. He did this. He had to atone. He had to leave this place behind.
With that decision made he stopped. Lovino froze with his eyes locked onto the Spaniard's eyes and something broke. Was it his heart? Was it his mind?
"Lovino, please," Antonio started. But the younger man turned on his heels and left. He left his estate in the mess he created with nothing but the clothes on his back, and didn't look back.
Lovino hated it when Antonio said his name, but he craved it like he craved air when he held his breath for too long. That's what this is, isn't it? This is like his breath of air that he has gone without for two years.
Those green eyes were filled with worry, and Lovino could not understand why. A tan hand, all too large for the younger man's face, wiped something away from the pale Italian's face.
"Why do you cry, my Lovi?" That rich voice cracked as Antonio spoke. Lovino fully snapped back to reality. The man in front of him swam in his vision as said tears spilled from his eyes.
Lovino sat up abruptly. He was crying? In front of this man? Gods, this infuriating creature brought out the worst in him. Or was it the best? That small voice challenged him once more.
"Is there anything else I can provide for you, sir?" Lovino's words were clipped and rehearsed as he spoke, staring straight ahead of him. He felt the bed shift beside him as Antonio sat up as well.
"Lovino, you know me. Talk to me like you know me," Antonio's words were full of promises that were surely meant to be broken.
"If it should please you I should take my leave," Lovino said instead of doing what the Spaniard asked.
"Lovino-" The word were cut off abruptly when the Italian turned back around to look at the Spaniard. Hazel eyes were pleading with him to release him. To dismiss him from his presence. "Ok... You may... You may go."
With that, Lovino stood, gathered his clothes, and left.
"Is there anything else I can provide for you, sir?" The Italian's words shoved a dagger through Antonio's heart as he looked at the pale back of that beautiful boy. He was back to acting like Antonio was his client, and Antonio knew it was a coping mechanism. He had known the boy so well...
"Lovino," Antonio started as he sat up to be next to the boy. "You know me. Talk to me like you know me." He nearly begged. Antonio needed something from his once-lover. He needed anything to show him that not all was lost. After two years, he had found Lovino once more...
"If it should please you, I should take my leave." The words stung. Antonio had to break the Italian out of his robotic state.
"Lovino-" Hurt, cold, pleading eyes turned on him. Tears were once more gathered in the younger man's eyes. Antonio couldn't do anything more. He couldn't keep hurting him and keeping him with him for longer than he wanted to be. "Ok. You may... You may go." His words hadn't wanted to work. They didn't want to come out, and he had to force them.
Lovino stood up so quickly, naked as the day he was born, and breezed out of the room. Antonio stared at the back of the closed door the boy had just walked out of. His heart squeezed in his chest and his head screamed in the form of a headache.
He flung himself back down onto the bed.
It was nearly an hour later that the door opened once more. Antonio bolted up, expecting to see the Italian. Instead, Francis was there, turning to close the door behind him as he entered the room.
The Frenchman took a seat in a decorative armchair next to the bed, curiosity in those blue eyes.
Antonio wrapped the sheet from the bed around his waist, still not bothering getting dressed. They had grown up together, so nothing phased either one of them anymore.
"How was your night, mon ami?" That French accent was guarded as if it was a loaded question.
"It was..." Antonio trailed off as he thought of the night he had had. He had been reunited with his lover and everything was amazing. Both men had known each other's bodies, and the familiarity of it was nearly overpowering. They both had made it last. It had lasted a long time. Lovino had learned some new tricks, but it had just made it so much better. "Francis, you must not give him to anyone else."
The words had escaped from his mouth before he knew he had even thought them. Francis looked sad while a flare of hope surged in Antonio's chest.
"Francis, he cannot be passed around," Antonio said, rushing his words. "It will drive him mad. Please, he isn't the same. He's closed off. You need to rescue him from this. You need to-"
"Antonio," Francis started with that same sad expression. "If I fire him, which is what you are essentially asking me to do, he will be forced to live on the streets."
Antonio's mind skidded to a halt. Forced to live on the streets?
"No..." Antonio didn't know where to go with what he was saying. He was currently living in a small flat near the Moulin Rouge, but would Lovino want to live with him? Surely not.
"What can I do?" Antonio asked instead.
"You can rescue him yourself," Francis said, sincerely. There was a passion in his voice that Antonio knew was Francis imaging their romantic love.
Antonio could just imagine it: him bursting through the doors of the Moulin Rouge, scooping Lovino into his arms and taking him away from this horrible place.
And yet, he knew Lovino would take some time convincing. He would have to win back the Italian's heart. What had broken them apart so many years ago... Antonio would try to mend.
And please believe me when I say I love you