Antonio helped Lovino up the stairs. He watched as he fiddled with the lock, wooden, finally managing to unlock it.
Lovino stared through the ajar door to Roma's room at the dresser, collapsed on the floor, before taking off his shoes. His bare feet left wet footprints behind him as he padded into his room, grabbed a dry pair of clothes, and then walked into the bathroom. A couple seconds later Antonio heard the shower start up.
He busied himself making a pot of coffee while Lovino washed. As it gurgled away, he couldn't stop himself from thinking about what he heard. Lovino's tortured voice swirled around in his mind.
"Why couldn't I have just been a boy, like I was supposed to?! Why'd you have to make me a girl!?" he had cried. What did that mean? Was he transgender or something?
Antonio's memory flicked back to that picture of the two little girls. They were the spitting image of Lovino and his brother. Could it be that the girls in the picture were actually the two brothers?
The coffee finished and he poured out two mugs. There was no milk, but he did find some sugar packets. He ripped one open, the grains spilling out into his drink, and on accident, he also dropped a portion of the paper wrapper. He reached in and fished it out, burning his fingers in the process. Swearing, he ran them under the tap, by now unfazed by the initial spray of dirty brown.
From inside the bathroom he heard Lovino swear violently and quickly he turned off the tap.
"Sorry!" he yelled over the noise of the running water. Lovino grumbled something incoherent, but remained in the shower.
It was almost a full twenty minutes before he emerged from the bathroom in a clean set of clothes, toweling his hair furiously.
"Sorry," apologized Antonio again, hiding his smile behind a sip of coffee. Lovino harrumphed, water droplets dripping down his face, neck, and back.
"Hey," he said, before Lovino could disappear into his room. "Are you transgender?"
"Huh?" Lovino frowned, the towel falling from his head and onto his shoulders. "What's that?"
"Never mind," said Antonio quickly. Lovino stared at him for a moment longer before traipsing into his room and closing the door behind him. As always, the lock clicked and he figured he'd be sleeping on the couch tonight.
He stretched out luxuriously, yawning. It was around 1 in the morning, according to his watch.
"It's Christmas," he realized aloud.
He opened his eyes, the light hitting his retinas painfully. His nose itched. He reached up to scratch it, but found instead glossy cardpaper instead of skin. Frowning, his eyes crossing in an attempt to see what was on his nose, he sneezed and the offending object flew up just briefly enough for him to see that it was a playing card.
"Oh. You're up," stated Lovino. He sounded disappointed.
"Yeah." Antonio scratched his nose. Lovino was kneeling beside him, on the floor. He lifted his head slightly and saw, with amazement, that a card pyramid had been built over his torso.
"What are you doing?" he croaked. Lovino placed two cards, ends touching, over the base of the card pyramid he had built.
"Making a card pyramid. Try not to breathe."
"Uh," he said, and the pyramid collapsed, cards scattering all over him, the couch, and the floor.
Lovino clucked his tongue in disgust. "Useless," he muttered, and began to collect the cards.
Antonio sat up, still sleepy. His stomach growled. "Happy Christmas," he mumbled, rubbing the sleep-dust from his eyes. He heard Lovino groan as he swung his legs over the side of the couch and stood up, the remaining cards falling off him and onto the floor.
"'M gonna shower," he muttered, mostly to himself, and tottered off into the bathroom. As he removed his jeans, caked with dried mud, one card fell out and to the chilled floor. It must have gotten stuck in his waistband, and as Antonio bent over to pick it up, he saw which one it was:
The Joker.
Laughing, almost cynically, he placed it on top of the toilet and started the shower.
For breakfast they shared the remains of yesterday's pizza. Its texture and taste were akin to that of rubber. Antonio gulped it down with coffee. Lovino just had wine. They didn't speak about, or acknowledge, the events of last night.
"My flight's tomorrow morning," said Antonio hoarsely. "8:20."
Lovino nodded, sipping his wine. "I'll pack this afternoon."
Antonio took a large gulp of coffee to hide his discomfort. He had to tell Lovino, it was burning a hole in him, but for some reason whenever he opened his mouth, no words came out. It was fairer, and kinder, to tell him before so as not to crush his hopes at the last minute, but he was already so depressed he felt it would be similarly cruel to ruin his day further.
Lovino's knuckles were bruised, dried blood and ripped ribbons of skin entertaining his hand. Antonio assumed that the thumps he had heard last night were him punching something, presumably the gravestone he had been curled up under. It had been too dark to see the name, but he had a feeling he already knew who it was.
"Wanna go out for a bit?" suggested Antonio, hoping maybe he could raise Lovino's mood. "Visit Roma?"
Lovino's grip tightened around his glass. "He doesn't want to see me," he said, voice strained.
"Right." Antonio looked down, ashamed. "Sorry."
"About last night-" he blurted, then stopped. "Do you want to talk about it?" He picked at the cheese on his pizza to distract himself, unable to look Lovino in the eye.
Lovino sipped his wine coolly, though his face was flushed with embarrassment. "There's nothing to talk about," he told Antonio.
"Oh. Um. Okay." He scratched the back of his neck nervously. "Is there anything you wanna do today? You know, since it's Christmas?"
"I hate Christmas."
"I know, but isn't there anything I can do that might make it better for you?" Lovino shook his head morosely.
"What about something that you always wanted for Christmas? Like, crackers, or a tree-"
"I always.." Lovino stopped himself, embarrassed. He shook his head.
"Never mind," he said. "It's stupid."
"No, no, I want to hear," cajoled Antonio.
"I- I always wanted a tree. You know, the sort with all the lights and baubles and shit."
"I- It's stupid, I know," he said quickly, seeing Antonio's face. "I just never had one growing up."
"It's not stupid at all! It's pretty cute, actually," comforted Antonio, reaching over the table to ruffle Lovino's hair affectionately, but Lovino flinched automatically as his hand moved closer, muscles tensing, arms raising to cover his head. Antonio paused.
"I- I wasn't going to hurt you," he said carefully, withdrawing his arm. Lovino's eyes opened. He blinked twice, taking in the surroundings as if he had just noticed them.
"Sorry," he said quietly, his hands lowering.
"Don't worry about it," said Antonio casually, but inside he was disturbed.
Surely Lovino knew he would never hurt him, right?
He had noticed Lovino flinching or tensing whenever someone moved too quickly, tried to touch him, or even just raised their voice, but never so obvious as he had just now. Antonio had always just assumed it was one of his many nervous tics, yet now he wasn't so sure.
Lovino seemed to be feeling uneasy too, for he spoke in a rush,
"It's just a tree- it's really stupid. Forget I said anything." He stood up abruptly, the chair knocking over.
"I should- I should get to my prayers," he said, and hurried into his room.
"What about the Christmas tree?" Antonio called after him, the door slamming and locking in his face.
"Fuck the tree!" came Lovino's muffled voice through the wood. "It's stupid- we don't need it, it's a waste of money anyway! Just leave me alone!"
Antonio opened his mouth to speak, but hesitated, his fist poised, hovering, over the door, ready to knock. He dropped his hand, resting his forehead against the door.
"Merry Christmas," he muttered to himself.
"Lovi." Antonio knocked on his door. "It's been four hours now. Will you come out?"
Lovino tightened the blanket around himself, almost suffocating in the fabric. Just hearing Antonio's voice, the way it softened whenever he said his name, made his heart speed up and his chest ache such that he knew it was not the pneumonia. He clutched at his chest through his shirt, hand over his mouth to stop himself from giving in, from replying and letting him in like he so desperately wanted to. These feelings had hurt Roma once more, it was his responsibility to bury and harness them so that he might be safe again.
"Please come out," begged Antonio. "Just for a little bit? I'm worried about you."
"I'm sorry if I said something you didn't like, or did something bad," he apologized relentlessly. "I can be a bit thick at times, and sometimes I don't realize that I'm doing something wrong until it's too late. But I really am trying, and-"
The door swung open.
"What." demanded Lovino, peering at Antonio suspiciously.
"Lovi! You're up!" exclaimed Antonio, caught unawares.
"Yeah. It sucks." He stepped out, Antonio backing away to allow him room. Lovino frowned. "What the.." Before he could protest, Antonio had grabbed his hand and tugged him out through the hallway and to the living room.
"What do you think?" he asked excitedly, squeezing Lovino's hand.
Lovino just gaped at the sight, red and green lights reflected in his eyes. All thoughts about Roma and his guilt drained from his mind and were replaced with sheer awe.
In the middle of the room, by the television, was an inflatable palm tree draped with glowing red and green fairy lights. The main room lights were off, leaving only the fairy lights strung around the plastic fronds on, casting everything in a warm red and green glow.
"Sorry it's not a real tree," apologized Antonio, looking at Lovino nervously for approval. "I couldn't find an actual one."
"No," said Lovino quietly, face shining. A tiny smile began to build across his lips until he couldn't hide it anymore.
"It's gorgeous," he gasped, speckled with red-green luminance that only seemed to make him more beautiful.
"Really?" Antonio looked back and forth from Lovino to the tree, the happiest he had been all day. "You think so?"
"Of course I do! It's perfect!" Practically glowing with joy and excitement, Lovino leapt up and hugged Antonio tightly.
"Thank you so much," he whispered, lips dangerously close to Antonio's ear. He felt his whole body burn with happiness and satisfaction, and hugged Lovino back, hands crossed around his waist.
"Merry Christmas," he murmured.
"Merry Christmas," replied Lovino, unable to stop smiling. And for the first time in forever, he really meant it.
"I left a present for you," breathed Antonio. His lips teased Lovino's earlobe and his whole body flushed hot with embarrassment and pleasure.
"Yeah?" he answered, wondering what it could possibly be.
"It's on the TV." Lovino didn't want to break from their embrace, but curiosity got the better of him and he pulled away, looking over his shoulder. Antonio's hands lingered, sliding down to his hips. Sitting on the flat surface of the dusty TV, nestled between the two antennae, was a yellow paper mache star and a roll of tape.
"I left the star for you to put on," explained Antonio. Lovino's eyes lit up. One hand flew up to cover his mouth, but he was beaming so wide he couldn't hide it.
"Holy fucking shit!" he exclaimed with wonder, hugging Antonio briefly once more before breaking free and hurrying to the star, cutting himself a piece of tape. He waved Antonio over.
"Lift me up," he commanded, and Antonio obliged gladly, grabbing Lovino around the middle and hoisting him up. Lovino shrieked at first, as his feet left the ground and became suspended in air, but then it dissolved into a series of giggles from the shock and excitement of it all.
"Could you hurry up please?" groaned Antonio, his arms straining.
"Sorry," said Lovino, still giggling, taping the star on top of the inflatable tree. Relieved, Antonio let him down, muscles aching.
Lovino wet his lips with his tongue. They hurt from smiling so wide. "Thank you," he managed to say.
"I have one last present," said Antonio, jogging off into their room and returning with a small parcel wrapped in newspaper, tied with a ribbon. He was smiling even more than Lovino, so happy just to see him finally relaxing.
Lovino took it gratefully, sitting down on the couch and pulling Antonio down with him. He glanced up at Antonio, biting his lip. He nodded, and Lovino began to untie the ribbon. The newspaper fell away in his lap, revealing a small red Sony Walkman MP3 player with earbuds wrapped around it.
Lovino lifted it up, turning it over and inspecting it with awe.
"It plays music," explained Antonio. "Go on," he urged, unable to suppress a grin. "Turn it on."
A little apprehensively, Lovino pressed the 'on' button with a slender finger and the screen flickered on. Album covers and titles began to load on the tiny screen and Lovino flipped through them.
"You mentioned once you liked Queen," said Antonio, "So I put all of Queen on there and some other stuff- David Bowie, Beatles, Pink Floyd, some Beyonce, the works."
"You remembered?" repeated Lovino, bewildered. His face was illuminated blue from the tiny screen, and a tiny blue rectangle was reflected off his widened pupils.
"Of course! I remember everything you say." Antonio took the Walkman from Lovino's hands, clicked to the My Playlists section. There was a single playlist, titled, "Lovino's playlist." Lovino moved to open it, but Antonio blocked it.
"That's a surprise," he said. "You can't open it until after I- we- leave."
Lovino nodded once, taking the small Walkman back, cradling it. He bit his lip nervously.
"I didn't get you anything," he mumbled.
"That's okay. I didn't really expect you to." Antonio's words were meant to comfort Lovino, but he only seemed to become more uneasy.
He licked his lips, searching for the words. "I don't- I don't have anything to give you," he said.
"Really, it's okay! Just your smile is enough."
"That's so fucking cliche," grumbled Lovino, yet he seemed to be both flattered and embarrassed by Antonio's words. "Isn't there anything you want?"
"Well…" Antonio scratched his head, thinking. "Not really. I'm happy just spending time with you."
"Idiot," muttered Lovino, shaking his head, but he was smiling slightly. He scooted over on the couch closer to Antonio, laying his head on his shoulder. "Thanks," he whispered. Taken by surprised, but pleased, Antonio tentatively placed his arm around Lovino, ruffling his hair affectionately.
The phone rang and Lovino leapt off the couch, Antonio's arm sliding off him and falling limply to the couch. He hurried to the phone, picked it up.
"Ciao?" he said, a bit too eager.
"Hi!" His brother's voice exploded from the other end, painfully loud. Lovino winced, holding the receiver away from his ear, but Feliciano's high, overexcited voice just seemed to become louder, filling the room.
"Buon natale!" sang Feliciano.
"Buon natale," repeated Lovino grumpily.
"So? How's it going?" asked Feliciano, switching to Italian.
"How's what going?" snapped Lovino irritably, a little annoyed at the timing of his brother's call. Couldn't he have waited just a second longer?
"Christmas! How's Nonno doing- can I speak to him? Oh, and what about Toni? Is he doing well? And did my plants survive- you know, that cactus in our room? Is it really warm there? I miss the warm wint-"
"Jesus fucking Christ, slow down, your tongue'll fall out!"
"Okay, okay, sorry. Hooows Chriiistmaaaas? Hoow-" Feliciano repeated himself, slowing down dramatically until he was extending every vowel by several seconds or so.
"Not that slow!" snapped Lovino. "Christmas is fine! Roma's fine! And Antonio… he's fine." Lovino cast an embarrassed glance at him once more. He was fidgeting on the couch uncomfortably, wringing his hands. His ears were red.
Eager to end the conversation, Lovino blurted, "Thank you and goodnight!" and prepared to hang up, but Feliciano cried out,
"Wait, wait!" and Lovino paused.
"What?" he grumbled.
"I wanna hear more than that! And can I talk to Nonno? He hasn't called me since last Wednesday, which is weird, because he usually gets up early my time so he can call me. Did something happen?" This time Lovino hesitated, biting his lip.
"What happened?" asked Feliciano hurriedly, his already high, boyish voice raising several pitches.
"Nothing- he's fine, he'll be fine, so-"
"Did he get mad at you again? Did he find the rest of my magazines?"
"The rest of them? There were more?!"
"Oh, he didn't, then? What was it? Was it the drawings? The poster? The male anatomy book?" asked Feliciano desperately.
"How much gay porn do you have?!" yelled Lovino into the phone.
"It's not porn!" said Feliciano indignantly. "It's art! Why shouldn't I appreciate the beauty of the male form?"
"Because it's gonna get your twink ass killed! Fucking hell, how many times do I have to say this?! No crossdressing, no gay porn, no fucking underwear magazines, no sculptures of humongous dicks modeled after the leaning tower of Pisa!"
"The Pisa-penis was one time, Lovi, and that was a joke!" declared Feliciano firmly.
"Well, it wasn't funny! What if he find it and- and- I don't know, gets a heart attack or somethi-"
"Heart attack?" interrupted Feliciano. "Mio dio, what happened?!"
"Why do you care? You're the one that's killing him with your- your sin and debauchery!"
There was a nervous pause on the other end of the line.
"C'mon, Lovi, don't be like that," begged Feliciano finally. "He was sick even before he found out, so it couldn't possibly be your fault or mine!"
"Well, yesterday was definitely my fault, so-"
"Yesterday? What happened yesterday?!"
"He, um…" Lovino didn't know how to say it. "A dresser fell on him," he concluded.
"Huh? How?!"
"I might have.." he licked his lips, clutching the phone so tight his knuckles were white. "I might have pushed it on him."
"By accident," he added quickly, acutely aware that that only served to make it sound worse.
"Why? Why would you do something like that?!"
"I don't.. I don't know, I just.." A lump swelled in his esophagus, and he found it hard to speak, the words choking out.
"I- I have to go," he managed to force out, swallowing back bile and guilt.
"Oh. Okay." He could hear his brother's defeated tone and momentarily regretted being so brusque, but then resigned himself back to his usual irritation and annoyance that occurred whenever he talked with Feliciano.
"Look, well, Merry Christmas, okay? I'll see you soon!"
Lovino grunted in agreement. "Bye," he hinted, but his brother continued on.
"Have you visited Ma's grave yet?"
"Not yet," he managed to say. His head hurt, aching dully. It felt as if his brain were being shoved through a tiny tube, convulsing and contracting painfully.
"Well, when you do, make sure to say hi for me, okay? And.."
"And what?" said Lovino, his voice flat. He knew what Feliciano was going to say, and he didn't want to hear it, yet some part of him still egged his brother on.
"Try not to blame yourself. For Roma, and the crash, an-" Feliciano's voice was cut off as Lovino promptly hung up the phone.