Anyone, then, who knows the good he ought to do and doesn't do it, sins. (James 4:17)

The next week, Lovino was fully intent on keeping his decision final. With a forced sense of numbness running through his veins and freezing his blood, he walked up to the church with Feliciano, said a curt goodbye, and turned on his heel. Feliciano, of course, was having no part of it. "Lovino! Where are you going?"

Lovino didn't know where he was going, and he didn't care. As far as he was concerned, any place where he didn't have to be around Antonio was just fine. The further away he was from Antonio, the further away he was from his feelings. "Nowhere. Don't worry about it," he said. "Look, I'll be back before your class gets out. I have my phone. Go find your German potato bastard and call me if you need something."

Feliciano grabbed his hand before Lovino could take another step. "What? Lovi, you're worrying me!" His pained facial expression was heartbreaking. Lovino looked away. "You won't leave your room, you barely eat, you won't talk to me or Grandpa, and now you won't even come to group!" Feliciano paused, his eyes flickering from side to side like the answer to his brother's behavior was written somewhere in the sky. "Maybe seeing Antonio would help."

That did it. A burst of regret bubbled in Lovino's chest and caused his heart to seize with pain. "Shut the hell up, Feliciano!" He tore his arm from his grasp and started to walk again. Somehow, Feliciano managed to get in front of him, forming a physical barrier with his body.

His eventual words were as firm as his stance. "If you don't come inside with me, I'm telling Grandpa."

Lovino narrowed his eyes and grabbed Feliciano's shoulders more with more force than what was even remotely necessary. "Feliciano." Without even thinking about, he used the one thing that was equivalent to a shot below the belt. "If you tell Grandpa about this, I'm telling him about Ludwig. I'll tell him about confession, the retreat, everything."

Feliciano let out a short gasp. "You're lying." His voice suggested that he was about to cry. "You wouldn't do that."

Lovino kept his unreadable expression, though there was a storm of guilt brewing inside of him. This was not fair. This was shameless blackmail, and it was wrong. For the love of God, this was his own brother! But with a flat voice and a numb mind, he said, "Watch me." He released Feliciano's shoulders, turned away, and started down the sidewalk.

There were tears in his eyes when he heard Feliciano call to him. "What happened to you, Lovino? You were always grumpy, but now you're just mean!" After the declaration, he heard a series of footsteps and the heavy doors of the church slam shut.

The words hit Lovino like bullets. "Dammit, It's not like I meant for this to happen!" He said it even though no one was around to hear him.

Without even bothering to zip his jacket, he walked off into the frigidly cold evening to an unknown location. He knew he could not go home. Roma would have his head if he knew he skipped group. The coffee shop as well as every store in the area was closed for the night. He barely had any friends to speak of, and he definitely wasn't close enough with them to just show up at one of their houses, not that he knew where any of them lived. This situation was pitiable, more so than Lovino had the heart to admit. He was running away from his problems like a scared little boy, and he had no intentions to change that.

Some time passed before Lovino looked up. He had been walking for God knows how long, taking random paths and going down unfamiliar streets without even thinking about it. He knew this town well enough. Finding the way back to the church to walk Feliciano home would be no problem. Even if it wasn't, did it even matter? Feliciano had the German idiot to keep him safe now. In fact, he probably liked the kraut better than he liked Lovino. Of course he did, and really, who could blame him?

When Lovino finally took in his surroundings, he realized he had somehow ended up in the sleaziest area that this small town had to offer. All that meant was some poorly lit backstreet lined with a few musty bars, but somehow, it felt just dangerous enough to get his mind off of Antonio. The darkened street smelled of liquor and the air hung heavy with cigarette smoke. The people lingering outside were loud and belligerent. A fistfight went on outside one of the pubs. It was slightly frightening, it was gross, and best of all- it was absolutely nothing like church. It was the kind of place Antonio- or anyone Lovino knew, for that matter- would never be caught dead in.

It was perfect.

Lovino sauntered down the street, his stride suggesting he had about ten times the amount of self-confidence he actually had. He heard someone whistle, presumably at him, and he fought the urge to throw out a stream of curse words in response. His posture stiffened and his face turned red, the coolness he had managed to fake fading at a rapid rate. Finally, he leaned against one of the run-down buildings. Maybe this was a bad idea, he should go, he did not belong here-

"Hey there."

Lovino looked to his side, in the direction of the unfamiliar voice. Standing before him was a man that appeared to be about thirty. His breath smelled like alcohol, his clothes were shabby and his hair was a matted mess. This man was definitely nothing like Antonio. "What do you want?" snapped Lovino. He quickly shoved his clammy hands into his pockets.

"You're too pretty to be hanging around here alone," the man said with a sneer. He took a step closer to Lovino and put his hand above his head on the wall.

Lovino swallowed thickly and pressed his back against the bricks. He knew he should run, he knew just being here was incredibly stupid, yet he didn't move. He didn't care enough to. He bit the side of his cheek and feigned confidence. "I'm not pretty, bastard. I'm a boy." Antonio's words from so long ago suddenly came back to him. Beauty isn't gender exclusive, Lovi. Goddammit, stop…

"Oh, I know." The man smirked in a way that made Lovino's stomach turn. "How about I buy you a drink?"

Lovino adverted his eyes. His instincts pushed him towards either a fight or flight reaction, but he ignored both of the equally powerful urges. "I'm seventeen."

The man scoffed. "Like it matters."

If just walking into this place wasn't a bad idea, this definitely was. Even if that was true, every cell in Lovino's body screamed for excitement. He desperately craved absolutely anything that gave him an escape from his everyday life, from himself. So without allowing any time for reasonable thought, Lovino responded in a way he knew he would regret later. "Okay."

The inside of the bar was even more dilapidated than the outside. There was no one checking IDs, no bouncers, and nothing to suggest that anything remotely good ever came out of this building. Ignoring the rational part of himself that screamed for him to run, Lovino sat down on a tattered barstool and accepted the glass of unidentified green liquid he was handed. "Um, thanks."

The man smiled again and nodded, and Lovino took a sip. The minute he did, he nearly choked. Beyond the occasional glass of wine Roma gave him on special occasions, Lovino had no drinking experience to speak of. That being said, he knew whatever was in this cup was strong. Oh well. He was already in this far, so he might as well dive deeper into the void. Lovino took another long drink, ignoring the way it burned this throat.

"Slow down. We don't want you too drunk." The man was sitting so close Lovino could smell the stale booze on his breath. Before he could wonder what he meant by that, the nameless man continued to speak. "So, what brings you out here? We usually don't get your type."

Lovino scoffed as if that was ridiculous. "My type? I go to places like this all the damn time." Liar. He took another sip of the strange drink and felt his head spin pleasantly. This was exactly what he needed. He could feel his thoughts of Antonio- as well as his inhibitions- start to fade away. Take that, Antonio.

The man laughed, cold and joyless. "Yeah, right. Someone like you wouldn't last an hour." He smirked and signaled for the barkeep to fill Lovino's nearly empty glass. Against his better judgment, he downed about half of it in a second. The man's eyes lit up like was pleased. "Enough of this small talk shit. How much?"

Without warning, he reached out and grabbed Lovino's thigh. Lovino felt a cold panic rise in his chest, then immediately jerked his leg away. The simple touch made him feel violated beyond belief. "What the hell are you talking about?" he finally managed to say.

He tried to get up, but the man grasped him by the sides. The touch made Lovino's skin crawl and his stomach twist. "Don't pretend you didn't know what this was about." He tightened his grip to a point that it was painful and shrugged. "You know what? Whatever. I bought you the drink, that's payment enough." Then, he pulled Lovino towards him forcefully and pressed his lips against his.

He tasted like alcohol and cigarettes. This was nothing like the kiss with Antonio; this was disgusting. Lovino pulled away, and the room began to sway dangerously around him. He instantly knew he shouldn't have had so much to drink. "What the hell is your problem, bastard? Get off of me!" He tried to twist out of the man's grip, but he was too strong. The realization hit with a sickening wave of nausea: He was trapped.

"Come on." Before he realized what was happening, Lovino felt the man grab his arm and pull him on the chair. He couldn't think, he couldn't breathe. His legs felt like they didn't belong to him, and room turned on its side. There was no one else in the bar. There was no one to save him. The man pushed him against the wall and starting tearing at his shirt like a wild animal, pressing revolting kisses against his mouth. Lovino could not escape his hold no matter how much he struggled. Antonio, help…

With a loud crack, the man fell to the floor. Lovino looked up, and in a moment of alcohol-soaked madness expected Antonio to be there. "T-Toni…"

"I suggest you leave the boy alone, da?" … Except the voice was too high pitched, and the accent was Russian rather than Spanish.

The man sputtered from his spot on the floor, wiping the blood from under his nose. "What the hell?"

He almost attempted to stand up, but the Russian leaned over and his mouth twitched into a small, calm smile. "Leave now, or I hit you with pickax." His voice was without anger, even sweet. Even so, it sent a chill down Lovino's spine. The man likely felt the same thing, since he pried himself from the floor and ran out the door.

The Russian stood up straight again, stretching out to his full, towering height. Lovino got a good look at him for the first time. Even though his vision was beginning to blur, he instantly knew he recognized this man. He had that same gentle smile, those same violet eyes and that same scarf that he never seemed to take off. This was his neighbor. This was… "Ivan?" said Lovino in disbelief. The last person he expected to see here was someone from his neighborhood.

Ivan nodded. "Yes. And you are Roma's grandson, Lovino." He gave him the once over and frowned. "Too young to be here."

Lovino adverted his eyes and focused instead on fixing his shirt, ashamed. "I guess," he mumbled. "I needed to clear my head, alright?"

"This is bad place to do that."

Lovino grimaced. "Yeah? And does Yao know you hang out here?"

"Yao needs not know everything, da?" Ivan chuckled lightly and his small smile returned. "What did you drink?"

Lovino felt an embarrassed flush creep across his neck. How could he be so stupid to drink something given to him by stranger, especially when he didn't even know what it was? "Uh, it was green, and it was strong-"

"Absinthe." Ivan shook his head. "Much too strong for boy of your size. The people around here have intentions that are not pure."

Well no shit, Sherlock. "I think I got that. I should go now." Lovino took a step forward and staggered. Dammit, he was never drinking again. How much time had passed, anyway? Feliciano was probably wondering where he was, probably this close to running home and telling Roma. How had he even gotten here? He should have paid attention to where he was going. Now that he was drunk, finding his way back would be even harder.

Ivan draped his arm over Lovino's shoulders to steady him. Somehow, it didn't feel threatening. "I walk you home. You cannot trust these people."

Lovino wiped his mouth, dying to get the taste of the man that was not Antonio off his lips. He was intent on getting home and taking a long, scorching hot shower, but there was something he needed to do first. "I need to go to Catholic Church by my house," he mumbled, quickly taking notice how ironic it was to go from a place like this to a place like that. Well, they were both evil in their own way. That specific church was just sneakier about it.

Ivan nodded. "This is probably good idea. This place, it is ungodly."

Wasn't that the truth?

Lovino allowed Ivan to lead him out of the bar, out of the seedy area he knew he would not return to, and through the twisting streets he had unknowingly taken. Ivan didn't try to make conversation, and that was just fine with Lovino. He was far too overwhelmed with nausea and vertigo to even think about talking, and that wasn't just from the alcohol. When they reached the end of the sidewalk that turned onto the street the church was on, Ivan withdrew his arm and smiled in that same unassuming way. It was so strange.

"Uh, thanks," said Lovino under his breath.

Ivan clapped a hand on his shoulder. "If you need to clear mind again, please do not go to the bars. Come to my house." He tilted his head slightly. "I will tell Yao. He will understand."

Lovino blinked. Why was he being so nice to him? He had gotten himself in this mess. Ivan had gone way out of his way to help him. "Are you sure?" he said carefully. Ivan seemed nice enough, but there was something…off, about him.

Ivan nodded. "Is for the best." Then he pivoted on his foot and walked off in the other direction, as if he were a very large, intimidating, Russian guardian angel.

Lovino walked down the sidewalk parallel to the church, having to take great care not to stumble. He could only pray that it wasn't as noticeable as he thought it was. When he got close enough to see that doors, he saw that Feliciano was waiting with Ludwig outside. As expected, he wasted no time tearing into Lovino. "Lovi! We've been waiting here for almost half an hour! I called you, like, ten times!"

Lovino pulled his forgotten phone from his pocket and illuminated the screen, nearly dropping it in the process. Damn, why was there two of them? Sure enough, when he got his eyes to focus on the screen he noticed there was a series of 'missed call' alerts. "Sorry," he mumbled, not able to think of anything else to say. "I was…busy."

Ludwig tapped Feliciano on the shoulder and waved goodbye. Good on you, Potato Bastard. Sticking around would likely be a bad idea. "Busy?" Feliciano stuck out his bottom lip, but the pout disappeared when he wrapped his arms around himself and shivered. "Let's just go home, it's so cold!" That much was true. It was probably less than forty degrees.

When they were halfway down the sidewalk, Lovino almost made the mistake of thinking he was off the hook. But of course, Feliciano wouldn't let him off that easy. "Lovi, you smell funny. Where did you go?"

Was it really that obvious? He couldn't be sure if it was the drinks he had or just plain exhaustion, but Lovino felt no need to lie. "I went to a bar." He decided to omit the details. The way Feliciano viewed him would likely become worse than it already had if he told him. When did he stop being a roll model and become the absolute last thing he ever wanted Feliciano to turn into?

Feliciano looked at him as if he had spontaneously combusted. "What?" The word was almost a gasp. "Lovino! You can't do that! I…" He shook his head, and when he stopped his eyes were firm. "I have to tell Grandpa."

"Remember what I said, Feliciano."

Tears welled up in Feliciano's eyes in a split second. His mood swings were just as unpredictable as always. "But I have to!" He wiped away his tears and continued in a quick, shaking voice. "You're going to get hurt, and I don't know what else to do! You never tell me anything anymore and…and I'm scared!"

In the midst of his alcohol-induced haze, Lovino realized how unfair he was being. Blackmailing and worrying his little brother wasn't going to do shit to help his own disaster of a situation. He sighed and forced himself to soften his expression. "Feli, it's alright. I won't do it again, okay? It was stupid. I know that." The memory of the man hit like a smack to the face, and he shuddered.

Feliciano nodded. He visibly relaxed, if only a little bit. "Okay," he said. "Does that mean you'll go to group next week?"

Lovino was afraid he would ask that. He sighed and slowly shook his head. "No."

"But-"

"Look, Feli," he said. "I just need to figure some things out, alright? I promise I won't do anything stupid next time. And for the love of God, just don't tell Grandpa. I need you to do this for me."

Feliciano opened his mouth to speak, but quickly closed it. Instead he simply pursed his lips and nodded, then took Lovino's hand. Lovino didn't protest. He knew he owed that much to him. They walked like that for the rest of the way home.

Lovino got in the shower minutes after he entered the house. He put the water on so hot it raised angry welts on his skin and scrubbed his body so hard he went through half a bar of soap, as if doing so would somehow wash away the memory. He stayed there until Roma pounded on the door and mumbled something about the water bill.

During his time in the thick fog of his bathroom, Lovino accepted something he already knew. Doing incredibly stupid things would not miraculously fix what had happened with Antonio. Hell, judging by the way every little thing he saw in the bar reminded Lovino of him no matter how much he drank, it wouldn't even help him forget. Antonio had found his way into Lovino's heart and was now refusing to leave.

That was more terrifying than anything that had happened that night.

Six weeks later…

The next month and a half managed to pass with something that was almost a routine. A chilly fall faded into a frigid winter. Somewhere in the midst of it all was a forgettable Thanksgiving, Christmas and New Years, each passing unremarkably. Lovino still had not managed to eradicate Antonio from his thoughts, but not seeing him had caused him to fade into what was almost a distant memory. Some days, he almost felt as though all that had happened between them was nothing more than a crazy, wonderful dream that ended in a nightmare.

On Sundays, Lovino did not return to the bars. After all, he didn't have a death wish. He didn't take Ivan up on his offer to come to his house, either. During these days he wanted nothing more than to be alone. Instead he wandered the safe parts of town, not caring how cold it got. Feliciano managed to keep quiet. The blackmail they had on each other lingered between them like a force field, acting as an unspoken, conscious treaty that neither of them dared to break. Somehow, Roma remained oblivious.

Almost every Sunday, Feliciano would timidly approach Lovino after group and deliver some message that Antonio had supposedly given him. It was always fairly simply, something around the lines of, 'Antonio wants to know if you're coming back' or, 'Antonio says you should keep your phone on' or most commonly, simply, 'Antonio says he's sorry.' There was never an explanation as to why he was sorry, however. When he heard these messages, Lovino would roll his eyes and scoff, acting as though he didn't feel a painful swelling in his chest at every mention of Antonio's name. In these weeks, Lovino received a grand total of five calls from Antonio. He ignored each and every one, fearing what he might say.

Most days passed in an empty, numb haze. Today- late in the evening after a group meeting that Lovino had, of course, not attended- was no exception. Lovino was sitting in his room doing absolutely nothing when there was a timid knocking at the door. "Lovino?" Feliciano said from the other side. "Lovi, you hardly ever come out of there anymore. Can we please talk? Please?"

Lovino sighed. It was true- he barely spoke to anyone these days. There was simply nothing to say. However, the desperation mixed with concern in Feliciano's voice was enough to let him in. "Alright, Feli. Come in."

Feliciano opened the door, walked in and sat next to Lovino on the bed. At first, he looked unsure about what to say. "Father O'Brian came back a couple of weeks ago," he said finally. "People are just acting like he never left."

Lovino grimaced. "Did he say anything to you?"

"I hide behind Ludwig when I see him, and that usually works pretty well," Feliciano said with a shrug. "But today he saw me and asked how my…uh…'problem' was. He acted really nice, but it was still scary. I just kept nodding until he went away."

"Oh." Lovino knew that this 'problem' was a reference to Feliciano's confession from so many weeks ago. Sickened by the memory, he quickly changed the subject. "How's the potato bastard? Being in that church hasn't convinced you to split up yet?" Really, Lovino could care less how Ludwig was doing. He was always at their house, so he knew he and Feliciano were still together. The only reason he asked was because he knew where this conversation would eventually go, and he was using Ludwig as an attempt to distract Feliciano.

Feliciano smiled at the mention of his name, or rather the slightly immature nickname Lovino had for him. "Ludwig is okay," he said. "I don't think I could stay away from him no matter what the church says, it would just be too hard." …Yet Lovino had managed to stay away from Antonio for this long. As if Feliciano had read his mind and wanted only to spite him, he steered the conversation in the very direction Lovino had tried to avoid. "Antonio keeps asking about you, Lovino."

Lovino felt as if his stomach had done a summersault. His better judgment told him to leave the statement unanswered, but he ignored it. Ignoring his own logic had become a bit of a habit. "What does he say?" He already knew the answer but asked anyway. He tried to sound like he didn't care, though a scream erupted in his body that said he did.

"A lot of things." Feliciano adverted his eyes. "He asks if you're coming back, he asks if you're mad, and he says he's sorry a lot but he won't ever tell me why. I never know what to tell him." He paused for a long moment. "Lovi?"

"Hmm?"

"You know what happened before you stopped going? When Antonio dropped all his papers and ran out of the room?"

Lovino felt his chest tighten and his breath catch. Of course he remembered, how could he forget something so terrible? "Yeah," he said. "What about it?"

Feliciano frowned, still without looking up. "Well, the same kind of thing has been happening a lot. It's kind of like what happens to me sometimes…" He bit his lip and continued in a shallow, quiet voice. "Just in the past six times I've gone, it's happened to him, like, four times. I think."

Lovino was beginning to feel nauseous. If it had happened four times just during group, how many times had it happened in total? He pushed through the sick feeling and responded. "What do you mean?" he asked without thinking about it, though he wasn't sure if he really wanted to know.

"Like, we'll be listening to a sermon and he'll leave all of a sudden, or we'll be talking about something in group and he'll start shaking and breathing heavy. He'll have to leave the room, but then he comes back and pretends it never happened." Feliciano picked at the bedspread. "I think you should come back, Lovi. He seems like he really wants to see you."

The truth was, Lovino wanted to come back. He was beyond tired of hiding, of sitting around and wondering what could have been. Now that he knew how terrible Antonio had been doing, he wanted to come back even more. Still, he felt as if it was simply too late. After the disaster of a kiss, the cold way Antonio had acted, and six weeks of Lovino ignoring him, he felt like he had missed his chance. He could not face Antonio after all of that. He was too ashamed. Antonio likely did not actually want to see him, anyway.

"No, I don't think he does," he said finally and quickly added, "It's not like I care about that Spanish bastard, anyway." Liar. LIAR.

Feliciano looked skeptical. It would have been just like him to ask a hundred questions, but somehow he managed to ask the one that had the most complicated, painful answer. "Are you ever going to tell me what happened?"

"Nothing happened!" Lovino felt ridiculous the moment he said it. It was clear that both of them knew that was a boldfaced lie. When Feliciano looked at him doubtfully, he sighed in resignation. "Look, you wouldn't understand."

"I could try," Feliciano said immediately. "You understood when I told you about me and Ludwig, so I'm sure I could-"

The mention of Ludwig- of Feliciano's perfect relationship- caused something inside of Lovino to snap. "I don't understand, actually," he said, interrupting him.

Feliciano blinked, looking confused. "What do you mean? You said you understood, you said it doesn't matter that Ludwig is a boy, and-"

"Yeah? Well, I was wrong. I actually think it's pretty damn weird." This was a lie, a horrible, cruel lie. Lovino instantly regretted his words.

Feliciano's eyes grew wide, and in what seemed like less than a second they grew watery. "Oh," he nearly whispered. "I just thought…" His voice cracked in that unmistakable way, and before Lovino could so much as apologize, he ran out of the room.

Lovino could have screamed. For the love of God, was there one person left in his life that he had managed not to hurt? Was there anyone left that wasn't a victim of his ridiculous, misplaced anger? Bitterly pushing this aside, he acknowledged with a heavy sigh that he would not be able to avoid church forever. Roma was bound to figure it out eventually, and who knows what would happen then? Not going to church in a sorry attempt to avoid his problems was about as effective as putting scotch tape on a broken dam. He knew that, and he knew he would eventually need to think of a better solution.

However, tonight was not the night for that.

.

It was well after two in the morning, and Lovino was wide-awake. His mind raced with thoughts of Antonio, of Feliciano, and just about everything in between. Feelings of guilt, anxiety, and faint traces of familiar anger rushed through his blood. His room was heavy with silence, broken only by the ticking of his clock. When his phone began to ring, he almost had a heart attack.

Instantly, he knew it must have been Antonio calling. The only other people that would ever call were in the house with him. His first instinct was to ignore it like he had his other calls, but everyone knew the rules. A call after nine at night was bound to be bad news. A call after eleven was sure to mean something awful had happened. If that was true, a call at two in the morning must mean that something similar to an apocalypse was underway. Something inside of him screamed incessantly that answering this was crucial, so he gave in and obeyed. He tried to sound casual, like receiving a call in the dead of night wasn't alarming in the slightest, but his voice ended up sounding weak and far away. "Hello?"

For a long moment, there was nothing but silence. When Antonio finally said something, his voice could barely be heard. "Oh, Lovino." The flat way he said it shook Lovino to the core. It sounded almost…final. "I was really beginning to believe you would never answer."

"Do you realize what time it is?" Lovino's harsh words didn't fit his unsteady voice. "What's going on?"

"Oh, nothing, nothing." Antonio sounded as though he attempted a laugh, but it came out as more of a sigh. "I do not have much time."

Lovino was instantly confused. "It's nearly three in the morning, bastard! What could you possibly be doing that's so important?" He tried to stifle the cold panic rising in his throat as he spoke. Something about this was just weird.

Another long pause. "What does anyone really do ever?" Antonio said, his voice still completely void of any emotion. His strange, rambling words and robotic tone made the conversation feel as though it was taking place in another dimension. Lovino was certain that Antonio had lost his mind. Before he could object, Antonio continued to speak. "Look, I really don't have a lot of time. I was calling to say goodbye."

Lovino blinked. The majority of his nerves had given way to plain confusion, but one word struck like a bolt of lightning… "Goodbye?" No, he refused to believe this was goodbye. It couldn't be. "Antonio, you aren't making any sense. I really need you to explain-"

"I do not have much time," Antonio said again, uncharacteristically cutting him off. "I'm going somewhere."

Lovino instantly imagined Antonio packing his bags and getting in a car, a desperate attempt to get far, far away from him, so far away that they would never so much as speak again. A stomach turning regret clutched his chest. Could their story really come to an end that was so gutless, so horridly unsatisfying? No, Antonio could not go, Lovino would fall apart. It couldn't end like this. He wanted to scream, to beg, but at the end he could only manage a far too casual sentence. "Where are you going?"

Antonio laughed in that same short, joyless way. "I don't know. Hell, probably. That's where people like me belong, right?"

Even if Lovino was completely lost, the strange, morbid words hit like bullets. It was almost painful to hear Antonio speak about himself this way. "Antonio-"

"I do not have much time." Dammit, how many times was he going to say that? What in the hell was so damn urgent? Before Lovino could even think to ask, Antonio's emotionless demeanor disappeared without warning and he continued in a flurry of words. "Before I go, I wanted to apologize for everything. I'm sorry for everything I put you through, and everything I did. I won't be around to hurt you anymore, Lovino." He took in a long, trembling breath and made a tortured sound Lovino had never heard from him. Coming from him, it sounded otherworldly. No…was Antonio crying? Lovino felt wild panic shoot into his bloodstream. What was going on? Before he could think of a single word to say, Antonio continued in an even smaller voice. "But Lovino… I will never be sorry that I loved you."

Loved? Why the past tense? What had changed? What in the hell was going on, and why did none of these questions have answers? Lovino's mind was absolutely spinning. He did not even know what to be confused about first. "Antonio, stop. Dammit, I need you to slow down and tell me exactly what in the hell is happening!" Lovino nearly shouted the words, desperation clawing at him from the inside out like a monster.

"Goodbye, mi corazon."

"ANTONIO!"

The line went dead. Lovino let the phone slip out of his shaking hand when he heard the dial tone screech into his ears. His mind spun, just like the room around him. He still did not know what Antonio meant. He said something about going to hell, which didn't make a whole lot of sense unless-

Lovino's heart stopped beating. A roar filled his ears and his stomach clenched in a mess of painful knots. He felt his entire world break, dissolve, explode around him when the most terrible thing he could possibly ever think of entered his mind. No, that could not possibly be it. No, he refused to believe it. This couldn't be happening. It was too cruel, no, no, NO!

But what else could he mean?

Lovino stopped breathing almost completely, a wave of panic stronger than anything he had ever felt washing over every part of him and squeezing the air from his lungs. He brought his trembling hand to his mouth, barely breathing, barely conscious, as tears began to slip down his face. A scream ripped through him that did not reach his lips.

NO.

To be continued...