No, thought Lovino briefly, as water splashed up over his shoes and jeans, soaking him all the way up to the knee. His feet collided with wet pavement painfully, and with every step his socks squelched, water leaking out of the sides of his shoes.
This isn't right. This isn't how it's supposed to happen.
His legs pumped up and down, breath rasping in his chest.
Not like this. Not like this.
He shook his head as he ran, water flying off of him like a dog. He was close now, close to home, and relief carried him down the dim street to the back door. With shaking hands he unlocked it- it took several tries, his hands were trembling so badly he couldn't seem to place the key in the lock- and bolted up the stairs. His room was on the second floor and he barged in, slamming the door and leaning against it. Chest heaving, his legs folded underneath him and he slid down against the door to the floor.
It wasn't right, he thought. It wasn't right for Antonio to tease him like that, to give him false hope when he was so blatantly lying. It wasn't right that he could continue to hurt him like this, even though Lovino had sworn that he wouldn't let himself be hurt by anyone, let alone Antonio, anymore.
It wasn't right that even though he was freezing, shivering, something inside him felt hot, burning, almost; that though he had long since stopped running, his heart was still beating against his ribcage with the ferocity of a caged bird that knew the taste of freedom. It wasn't right that even after all these years he had gone hating Antonio, just a single sentence from him was enough to bring all his buried emotions back, burning brighter and more painfully than ever.
"Fuck!" The yell tore itself from his throat, echoing against the peeling wallpaper and the pattering of rain outside on the windowpane. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!" He banged his head against the door with each 'fuck,' and when his head was aching enough to block out the sounds of rain with the incessant ringing in his ears, he stood up shakily, leaning against the door for support.
He felt a lump in his back pocket and drew it out. His hand shaking with anger, he gripped the battered red Walkman and stared at it, the blue of the tiny screen reflecting off his dark wet skin. The battery icon was flashing in the corner, one bar left. A song was playing; it must have been playing all music all day by accident, and Lovino hadn't heard it because the earbuds were plugged in. His mind foggy, he squinted at the screen, his head still pounding as he tried to read which song it was. He lifted one limp earbud to his ear, but as soon as the familiar strums of guitar mixed with the crooning of Paul McCartney's voice reached him a stone dropped in his stomach and nausea churned within him.
Instantly he wrenched the earbud from his ear and flung the Walkman across the room, where it bounced against the wall and fell to the floor with a dull thud. It offered no relief; the song still continued to play in his head even though he had ceased to listen to the music, except Antonio's low, slightly tone-deaf voice had replaced that of Paul McCartney's as he sung the familiar lyrics:
"Blackbird singing in the dead of night, take these broken wings and learn to fly
All your life, you were only waiting for this moment to arise."
Rage boiled under his skin, and he seized the nearest object, an Italian copy of Franz Kafka's The Metamorphosis, and pitched it off the wall. Next followed Virginia Woolf, then Hemingway, as books ricocheted off the thin wall and scattered over the already filthy floor. Lovino garnered a little pleasure from hearing the bangs of items against the wall and imagining throwing the same at Antonio's idiotic, annoying, grinning, stunning, gorgeous face, but it wasn't enough.
"Bastard!" he screamed, and Shakespeare clattered to the floor.
How dare he? How dare Antonio tease him like that?
"Idiota!" English For Dummies fell to the ground, pages splayed dramatically like limbs.
How dare Antonio fill his brain with false hope? How dare Antonio lie to him yet again, as if Lovino hadn't learned by now not to trust any word that slipped out of his soft, kind lips; lips that looked so gentle, so easy to kiss…
Lovino howled with anger and hurled books, socks, even bottles at the wall. Crashes and shattering of glass drowned out his furious curses, and when he ran out of things to throw he fell to the floor, panting, and crawled over to the milk crate in which he kept his alcohol collection and grabbed a surviving bottle, taking a swig without checking the label to see what it was.
The scent of cheap wine sifted through his nostrils, calming him somewhat. "I hate him," he said aloud, more to convince himself than anything else. "I hate him."
He raised the bottle and took another gulp, swallowing loudly.
"He's a pretentious asshole who lies to get what he wants. He's just saying he loves you because he wants…" Lovino trailed off. What did Antonio want? What did he serve to gain from loving Lovino? What if he was telling the truth, and Lovino had just run off, abandoned him like Antonio had done to him years before?
"He was lying," said Lovino thickly, and took another drink. "And if he wasn't, it doesn't matter, because I sure as fuck don't love him."
That's right. Lovino didn't love Antonio. Not him, not anyone. He had given up on that a long time ago. Love, he reflected, only lead to pain, to loss. Everyone he ever loved had died, or betrayed him- he was cursed, by some cruel trick of fate or a sick joke of a malevolent god's.
Even if he did allow himself to love Antonio, for just a second, Antonio would surely die, like all the others had. There was no hope for either of them, at least in the form of some kind of relationship other than distant friendship, he concluded, so there was no point in even trying.
"Fuck, fuck fuck!" Antonio swore, banging his head repeatedly into the door. He was slouched against the closed door of his apartment, and the thin wood reverberated and rattled in its frame every time he hit it with his cranium. He was stupid, so stupid- how could he have been so stupid? Of course that wasn't what Lovino wanted to hear, especially on such an exhausting night as this one had been for him. It was selfish to burden Lovino with his own problems, even more so when he obviously already had more than enough to worry about.
He should have realized that there was no way he could expect a favorable reply, especially since he had shown up in Lovino's life again only a week ago, after his betrayal and several years of no contact between them.
At least now, he reflected, he knew Lovino's answer- or rather, lack of one. Lovino obviously didn't feel the same, and had no interest in seeing or even interacting with Antonio further.
Though it hurt to think of having to stop seeing Lovino, especially after they had only just reunited, it was what Lovino wanted and this time, Antonio was determined to do the right thing.
Even if it meant abandoning his love.
"He loves me, he loves me not." Lovino plucked off a magenta Zinnia petal- it meant 'lasting affection,' Antonio had said when he had presented them to him- and dropped it on the floor by his lap, with the other petals. He was sitting in a sea of velvety polychrome and broken glass shards, and abandoned stems from the other flowers he had destroyed in his fit of romantical superstition were gathered in the empty wine bottle from before.
Lovino pulled off the last petal. "He loves me," he realized, and scowled, throwing the petal and stem to the floor in disgust. All the flowers, no matter the amount of petals or species, had yielded the same response: 'he loves me;' and though Lovino didn't consider himself to be a superstitious person, he had to admit there was something strange about this series of coincidences.
Lovino stared at his alcohol crate longingly. He was drunk enough already, he knew that, having consumed an entire bottle of wine in under an hour, and he had work starting in a couple of hours, but still his body itched for more, more- tequila, rum, wine, sambuca- hell, even vodka would do, though he hated the stuff. He wanted to get so drunk he passed out in a pool of his own vomit and forgot everything about this awful night. He wanted to get so drunk the blood in his veins would turn to alcohol and his liver would shut down. He wanted to get so drunk that nothing and everything simultaneously made sense, and the world whirled around him so fast he couldn't keep up. Without meaning to, his hand crept towards the crate, but he slapped his wrist to stop it.
Though he hated to admit it, a small part of him had felt happy when Antonio made his confession. Why was that? If he really hated Antonio to the extent that he wanted to believe he did, he shouldn't have felt that. The only conclusion, Lovino realized, was that he didn't quite hate Antonio as much as he thought he did.
It was true that he felt a leap of excitement, of joy everytime Antonio walked in to the E-Z Mart, and throughout the day he would find himself wondering what sort of flowers he might bring this time, what shitty joke he would try to tell, what funny anecdote from work he had to share as Lovino ate dinner. But that was probably just Lovino being lonely- he had no other friends, no one else to talk to who seemed to genuinely like him. He was just attached to Antonio because he was the only person who had shown him any interest in a while, that was it. Nothing more.
He would tell Antonio tomorrow, he decided, when he came to visit him at the E-Z Mart till. He could explain that he just wanted to continue to be friends. Antonio would understand. It would all be okay.
9:45 the next evening came and went, and there was no sign of Antonio.
He's probably late, thought Lovino, but 9:50 passed, and then 10:00, and Antonio didn't show up. He waited outside the E-Z Mart, shivering, until 10:15, when he realized that this was too late, even for Antonio, and that he wasn't coming. Still, clinging to one last idiotic shred of hope, Lovino waited for five more minutes, blowing on his hands and rubbing them together, stamping his feet.
He ate alone in the park. The birds, hidden in the trees, tittered playfully, as if laughing at him.
How pathetic, they seemed to say. Now he has no one.
Secretly Lovino agreed.
There was no duct tape-covered wreck of a car waiting for him in the parking lot behind McDonald's after his shift that night, or the next. Though Lovino wanted to be relieved- and he was, to some extent- he mainly felt the sinking sensation of disappointment, like he had swallowed a rock. These feelings amplified exponentially with every day that Antonio didn't show up; when Lovino ate in the park alone with only the mocking birds for company; when there was no smiling face holding a bouquet of roses or lilies or asters on the other side of his till; when the parking lot behind McDonald's was perpetually full, but seemed empty and desolate with the loss of Antonio's brightly colored Hello Kitty mobile.
It'll pass, he convinced himself, standing at the fryer. He put in a basket in the first vat, and pressed the timer. Antonio would get over it and show up, or Lovino would just forget about Antonio, and things would go back to what they had been before he had showed up that night at E-Z Mart; buying underwear, glitter, and a feather boa, of all things.
Despite himself, Lovino chuckled. That was so like Antonio, to waste a perfectly good ten-dollar bill on glitter and underwear and feather boas. For what purpose could he possibly have needed such a combination of items? He had never gotten the chance to ask him, he reflected, he had been too busy trying to contain his rage and the urge to punch him in the face, wreck that conveniently oversized nose; that gorgeous, stunning, blinding smile; those eyes- holy fuck, those eyes…
A grease bubble popped and a speck of hot grease landed on his exposed forearm, burning him and bringing him back to his senses. The timer was beeping, and he picked up the basket and put it on the rack for the fries to dry.
Lovino stared at the cracked ceiling, cradling a wine glass the size of a soup bowl in his lap.
"This is bullshit," he said to the spider spinning a web in the corner where ceiling met wall.
It had been 8 days since he had run from Antonio, and still he hadn't shown up at the E-Z Mart or McDonald's. Despite the fact that Lovino was desperate to not let Antonio or his confession get to him, he had fallen into a pit of constant, boiling, anger. How dare Antonio say something so sensitive, so bold, that was bound to have some sort of effect on Lovino, and then just leave, abandon him like he had so many times before? What was he playing at, toying with Lovino's emotions so easily? Maybe he was lying: he was did hate Lovino, and this "confession" was all just some sick joke designed to rile him up?
Well, if it was, Lovino had to admit (however begrudgingly) that it was working. Antonio was all he could think about nowadays. It was driving him crazy- the last thing in the world he wanted to think of was Antonio, yet here he was, half-drunk and filled with an absurd longing just to see him, if only to punch him in the face.
He wasn't sure exactly what he had expected would happen following Antonio's confession, but certainly not this. In all the romance books and movies he had seen, the confessor always chased desperately after the confessee, trying futilely to win them over with gifts or jokes or kindness, but here Lovino was, sitting in a shitty apartment drinking shitty wine while Antonio just ignored him!
It was as if Antonio were deliberately punishing Lovino for running away, forcing him to realize how much he actually enjoyed his company, no matter how much he pretended he didn't.
Whoever said 'absence makes the heart fonder' was full of shit- 'absence makes the heart angrier and wanting to scalp a bitch' would be more accurate.
He had lasted years without seeing Antonio (if he could call it 'lasting,' they had been some of the worst years of his life), and yet after seeing him just a couple times again he was hopelessly entrapped in the same ugly, churning emotions he had since sworn off when Antonio abandoned him. At this point Lovino wasn't sure who he was more angry at: Antonio for confessing his feelings and then ignoring him; or himself, for letting Antonio get to him.
Lovino took a large gulp of wine to calm himself. If Antonio was too scared to come see Lovino, then he'd just have to go see him himself. It wasn't because he liked Antonio or anything, he told himself. He just missed having a friend; someone to talk to, that was it.
Yet deep down he had a tingling suspicion, a twinge of fear that if he did in fact go see Antonio again, he might not be able to control himself around him. He might give in to his emotions, and that thought terrified him.
Despite his previous doubts, Lovino somehow found himself standing in front of Antonio's apartment, ungodly drunk and clutching as if his life depended on it a paper bag containing a bottle of cheap red wine, the taste of which lay on his tongue like a light film and would not go away; a bouquet of white tulips in his other hand, rain sticking to the petals and glistening in the early morning light like pearls. He swayed slightly with drunkenness, the rain that poured down on him and soaked his clothes doing nothing to sober him up. He reached for the doorbell but could not see straight, and prodded the wall and door of Antonio's apartment several times before by luck his finger landed on the doorbell.
Lovino heard a muffled "Coming!" and several thuds which he could only assume were footsteps. A moment later the door swung open, and standing in the doorway, bathed in yellow light, was Antonio.
He was naked, apart from a towel wrapped hastily around his waist, which he kept one hand on to prevent it from falling. His body was wet, and glistening, and a small puddle had formed under his bare feet on the carpet. Sticking out of one corner of his mouth jauntily like a cigar was a toothbrush. He smelled like AquaFresh and deodorant.
"Uh," slurred Lovino, the words he had been practicing over and over now vanished from his head.
"Lovi?" gasped Antonio, the toothbrush falling out of his mouth and landing on the carpet lightly. His hand went slack, and the towel dropped to the floor.
"Uh," said Lovino again, glancing down. His head was spinning terribly, and he forced himself to try to remember what exactly it was that he had tramped there for in the rain at seven am, despite the glorious distraction that now stood in front of him.
He missed Antonio. Yes! That was it. He missed Antonio, and he had come here to tell him so.
"I miss you," Lovino told Antonio's penis, unable to tear his eyes away.
"Oh wow. Um." Antonio desperately tried to cover himself with his hands as best he could.
"It's big," pointed out Lovino, transfixed. "Your hands can't even cover it all."
Antonio smelled alcohol on his breath and prayed to every god he knew that Lovino would pass out and not remember this the next morning.
"Thanks?" he said slowly, cringing. They stood, for a moment, Antonio petrified with embarrassment, and Lovino, swaying slightly, rain beating down on his head. Slowly Lovino raised his hand and took a swig from his bottle, never once breaking eye contact with Antonio's penis.
"Why don't you come inside?" Antonio offered shakily, finally remembering his manners. He took a step back and picked up the towel, covering himself once more with a sigh of relief. Lovino looked disappointed, but stepped in. He set down the bottle and thrust the flowers at Antonio violently. He took them gratefully.
"White tulips?" he realized aloud. "They mean forgiveness- Lovi, does that mean you-"
He was cut off abruptly as Lovino took a step forward into the interior of his apartment and promptly toppled over, bringing Antonio down with him.
"Fuck, I'm sorry," Antonio apologized, even though it wasn't his fault. He rubbed the back of his head where it had hit the floor. "You okay?" He lifted his head to look at Lovino, whose head was on his chest, legs tangled with his own.
Lovino mumbled something incoherent, eyes closed. Antonio couldn't tell if he was awake or asleep. He lay his head back on the floor, sighing.
"You missed me, huh?" he said aloud, more to himself than anyone else. He couldn't suppress a grin.
"Of course I did!" burst out Lovino, suddenly raising himself into a sitting position on top of Antonio, straddling his torso. "You're my only friend, and then you- you go off spouting nonsense-" he burped, loudly, "About loving me, and then just ignore me! Who the hell does that?!"
He reached for his bottle and took a swig.
"I thought you wanted to be left alone!" protested Antonio, but Lovino ignored him, continuing his drunken rant.
"You just… waltzed back into my life after years of no contact, and barely a week after you declare you love me! What is wrong with you?!"
He stabbed at Antonio's bare chest violently with his index finger, then continued.
"I mean, it's been… what? Three years? Four? I've- I've changed a lot, I'm not the same pathetic little Lovino that was hopelessly in love with you and would do anything to get your attention! For one, I know better, and I sure as fuck don't- don't love you!" His lip trembled slightly as he said these last few stuttering words.
"Do you know how that feels? To hear something like that, three years too late? And then to be abandoned and ignored again? Are you trying to drive me crazy?!"
"I…" Antonio stuttered, completely boggled by this sudden declaration. Lovino had been in love with him this whole time, and he had never even noticed, let alone consider it? "I had no idea- you were in love with me?"
"Yes, dammit!" exclaimed Lovino as if it were obvious. Antonio flinched as his wine breath hit him. "And it was the biggest mistake I ever made, falling in love with an idiot like you, who can only think about himself and what he's going to eat next!"
"Oh my god." Antonio ran his hands through his hair nervously. "Holy shit. Fuck."
"Yeah." Lovino poured the remains of the bottle in his mouth, burped loudly, and threw the empty bottle to the side. "You fucked up."
"You don't... still love me do you?" asked Antonio hopefully, but his wavering hopes were crushed by the intense glare Lovino shot him.
"Are you insane?" he yelled. Antonio flinched at the harsh loudness of his voice. "Do you not remember what you did? How could I still love you? I've spent the last few years hating you!"
"Wait, but," started Antonio, pushing himself into a rough sitting position. "You just said you missed me. You even brought me flowers! You must at least feel something for me!"
"I don't know what you mean," muttered Lovino, looking away.
"Wha- you brought me flowers! Look! White tulips, they mean forgiveness!" Antonio grabbed the fallen bouquet, waving it in front of Lovino's face.
"Don't think I forgive you because of the flowers. They were just on sale," huffed Lovino angrily. "And I don't like you, I was drunk and lonely and thinking of you so I came here, and now I'm just drunk and angry!"
"See!" Lovino pointed a finger at Antonio accusingly. "This is what you do to me! I hate you so much, and yet- yet-" All of a sudden, his body tensed, face contorting as if he were in pain. "And yet I can't stop thinking about you!" he blurted, covering his face with his hands. "I hate it so much, I hate you so much- I can't get you out of my head, no matter how much I want to! I'm supposed to be hating you; and I do, I do hate you, but at the same time I can't resist you and I hate it! I hate who I'm becoming, I hate that I can't do anything right, that I can't make up my mind, and it's all your fault!"
"I'm sorry," Antonio apologized, though he wasn't sure exactly what he was apologizing for. Watching Lovino choke back sobs, he felt a painful tightness in his chest, and couldn't resist leaning forward and wrapping his arms tightly around him, rocking him back and forth on his lap.
"I hate you so much," sobbed Lovino, laying his head on Antonio's shoulder.
"I know," sighed Antonio, resigning himself to the fact that he would always be utterly confused by the disconnect between Lovino's words and actions. One minute he was cursing and insulting Antonio, and the other he'd be practically seducing him with affectionate glances and near-flirtatious touches and embraces. What confused Antonio even more was how much he loved it.
Hello, sorry for such a long hiatus. A lot has happened, and I was in the hospital for a month and a half, and then rehab for another month after that, and I'm just now figuring out what to do next and how to pay all these bills. I lost my jobs, but hopefully once I get everything sorted out I'll be able to write more. I really like this story and I want to finish it, and I want to do a good job and continue writing even after this one is finished, so please don't give up on me!
Thank you to everyone who takes time to read my stories. It really means a lot to me when you like my writing and review, and it's helped motivate me to finish this story. Thank you so, so, so much.