Chapter 15 : Heart to Heart

Dear Lovino,

How are you? How have you been?

I've been trying to send you this for a while now. But I couldn't and I have no way of telling you how sorry I am. I'd have come right to your door with these words on my lips, if I could. But I can't leave without being suspicious, and the only man I trust with this is Alessandro. He's the blond northerner who delivered this, and he'll bring me whatever you send and keep it secret.

But I'm presuming things, am I not? If you're angry with me or hate me, even, for disappearing this long, I don't blame you. You have a right to; but I was—well, what can I say? I only want to make sure you're fine.

I said I wouldn't forget you. I haven't. You've been in my thoughts day in and day out, every minute and every second. I don't know why I keep thinking of the past. I shouldn't bring up old things to quarrel about, but I can't let it go. And if I'm right and you haven't, either... I might as well try and make up for it, as well as I can.

I still remember everything like it happened yesterday. That night before I left, I did come to your house. It's still hard to think about it now... You were with that girl, remember? I was at the window and saw you two. You called her Chiara. You seemed to have such affection for her, and you looked content enough. So I went back. Hurt pride and hurt feelings and all that. Arthur called me a stupid weakling and he's probably right.

Yes, he's Arthur Kirkland—somehow he survived and helped me run away when people came looking. They weren't your men; we couldn't stay any longer or else we'd be caught and hung. I had the note left with Heracles, but that was before I came to your house. I didn't have any time to leave a more detailed one. We boarded a ship secretly and went to the north. That's where I am now.

It's safe, and none of the rumors have gotten here. I'm just another Antonio among many, and I work in the shipyards loading things. At least I can say that now, I'm an honest man... I actually earn my own money and it's peaceful here—no fights, no violence, no deaths. Everyone is civil and just. I should be happy. Except—

I miss you.

I don't have anything anymore that reminds me of you, except what's in my head. I think of you so much I'm probably going insane. I don't know why I still do this. I should let go since you've moved on and found someone else. But I can't.

I'm sorry, Lovino. I'm sorry for causing you undue pain. I want you to be all right. Take good care of yourself and the ones you love. For yourself, and for the lonely man writing this.

Antonio

Dear Antonio,

If I knew where you were, this would be the fourteenth letter you received from me. But it sounds like you haven't gotten any of them, since you wrote out of the blue to ask after me. That's all right. What's another letter, as long as you actually receive it this time?

Thank Alessandro for me, though. I believe I scared him when I asked him where you lived, and he wouldn't tell me. I hope he does next time.

But you know what else I would do if I were you?

If I were you, I would throw down whatever paper I'm writing on, remove my damn ass from my damn chair, find a horse or ship or whatever the fuck it takes to get back to Venice, and come here so Lovino Romano Vargas can beat the shit out of me.

I would do it, too.

In all my short days I have never met a more idiotic, sentimental, heartsick bastard and I have never loved such a bastard so much. If you had been jealous I could have stood it. If you had been mean—well, that's another story. But you fucking jumped to conclusions and gave me—of all the damn things in the world—an imaginary lover.

That girl you were going on about—by the way, her name (maiden name) is Chiara Vargas. That's right. Vargas. She is my one and only sister, she is about to be married to a wealthy Sicilian, and I would thank you to fucking remember that before I smack myself for not having told you beforehand. Goddammit, Antonio. Is that really why you left and didn't send word for three fucking months?

You have no idea what I went through when you were gone. No fucking idea. I don't even want to write about it.

It's not all right what you did to me, Antonio. You could have confronted me about it. You could have stayed somewhere closer. I could have helped you hide instead of worrying over here. We could have made it work, and now it's all ruined because of a stupid misunderstanding—about nothing. I could say I hate you, but that's mentally impossible. I could say I'm angry—angry as hell—and that would be about right.

You are one of the worst people I have ever known next to myself, and then some. But you're also the best. And if that's not the closest to forgiveness I can get in this minute, I don't know what is.

If you don't write back, immediately, I will have search parties out to personally escort you back, in order to spare you the pain of having to make an excuse for leaving, wherever you are. They should trust you anyway. They'd better. Or I'd have to speak to them myself.

Also, if that Arthur Kirkland is still there with you (which I hope he isn't) tell him I want his head on a spit, brought to me, now.

Lovino

Dear Lovino,

I'm sorry. I don't suppose any amount of apologies will work now, but I still mean it. And if I must suffer blows by your hands I welcome them. But I'm writing this by candlelight aboard ship, and I think whatever attempt to get to Venice will be delayed for a while until I get back. Although it doesn't mean I won't try.

It's almost surprising how much people think like you. Before he left Arthur Kirkland called me a stupid imbecile too. I'm sure he's right. But he's not here anymore to confirm that. Not that I killed him—he went away a long time ago. When I first arrived here in Trieste he was all for moving on to northern Europe and starting some unsavory life up there, no doubt. I refused and we separated, but on fairly good terms. It wouldn't be the best to leave a former dread pirate hating you. But I guess that means you won't get his head. Maybe someday I'll go and bring it back.

But enough on him. I don't care about him. Forgive me again if this is forward, but—te quiero. I want you. Here. With me. Right now, if I could make that possible. I just want to hold you and never let go. Run my fingers through your hair and kiss you and make sure no one will ever hurt you again. It's my fault for making such a mess out of everything. When I see you again—yes, when—I'll be a different Antonio than I was before.

But it's because of you. You, Lovino, with the bright eyes and the foul mouth and the ability to snatch my heart away. I can't do anything unless I come back to reclaim it. Although, now that I think about it, I can't and I won't.

Because no matter what, my heart will stay with yours—always.

Antonio

Dear Antonio,

I punched Alessandro and told him to deliver it to you. I'm not sure he will, but if he doesn't, just come here personally next time so you can receive it from me. That's what you get for being a sappy bastard.

Damn you, Antonio. Damn you for saying all those sweet things and making me [hastily blotted out] want to hit you. Hard. I wish you were here so I could do it. But since you aren't and probably won't be for a while, I'm going to save you the trouble. We're only a few fucking days apart, you know that? I'm coming over here, right now, and if you receive this letter beforehand I commend you.

I make no promises what I'll do to you when I see you again. I am not as angelic as you think. No way in hell. Too bad Arthur Kirkland won't be there, or he would learn to fear me as much as you will. But that's all right. There's plenty of time for everything I have planned out.

You'd better get ready, Antonio. I am coming for you.

And before this candle burns out—I still have your necklace. Alessandro wouldn't promise not to sell it for money, until now. So if you don't get it, kindly brain him for me. You'd better have it when I get to Trieste, or else.

Goddammit. I was going to write something else, but it's getting dark as fuck. Besides, I have plenty to say to you when I see you again. You will not pass another day without my voice next to your ear. And no, I don't think I will kiss you, although you probably need it badly.

Lovino