Lovino, having just turned sixty, was sick of many things in life. Getting bills were in the top 5. So when he got bills in the mail, he usually tore them up and set their remains on fire. The bitter ritual brought him little joy, much like everything else in the world. He'd gotten some mail the other day and it almost met the same fate. How the sender got his address became apparent when he read its contents. He hadn't felt anything but anger for a long time, so the absence of it really rang him hollow.

It started with an introduction, some detectives had gone poking around into some old files. Then there were the all too familiar condolences. Granted, he hadn't heard them in decades. He didn't speak about what happened and no one felt sorry for him. Not that it should be him they're feeling sorry for. Most days, he'd been able to forget that he was mourning to begin with. It was so long ago after all. But then it hit him and he felt so incredibly guilty for moving on while Feliciano stayed in place, stuck in the past.

He kept reading the letter when he got to the part about why it was sent to him in the first place. There was a promise, one that ignited the dry kindling in his heart. They had the guy who did it. The bastard who took away his twin's life and left Lovino in tatters. And finally, he was advised to avoid the media for the foreseeable future. The bastard was going to be processed soon and the media would love to sink their teeth into such a raw, tragic story.

Who the fuck were they to tell him what to do? He wanted to see this bastard blasted all over the news! Drag his name and reputation through the mud to the gates of Hell. Lovino's face was scrunched up as he thought of his Nonno, who waited all his life for a letter like this and never received one. He scrunched up the letter and slapped the envelope on his coffee table, causing something else to slide out.

It had been so many years, but even at a glance, he knew what he was looking at. He knew what Feliciano looked like, but he just looked so young. Lovino had been avoiding mirrors religiously for the past forty years, knowing that when he looked in the mirror he saw what Feliciano could've looked like, standing right by his side and still ridiculously cheerful and airheaded as he's always been. He couldn't bring himself to touch the photo as it morphed from his tears. He hadn't cried in so long. All the tears he saved up over the years came pouring out.

It was only a couple of days after receiving the letter that the news of the trial broke. Lovino was warned that it was coming but he never expected to be confronted so soon, or that confrontation was something he couldn't handle. His mouth was dry as he sat there, completely unprepared as the report failed to make sense in his mind. He just saw his brother's youthful face, frozen in time and suddenly Lovino was fumbling to turn the tv off. He dropped the remote in his haste to change the channel and the batteries popped out and rolled under the couch. He swore, ditching the useless remote across the room and resorted to yanking the tv's electrical cord out from the plug.

He spent the rest of the day in a foul mood, fighting with himself to turn the tv back on or buy a damn newspaper or something. In the end, he turned on his computer and despite the whirlwind of anger that had carried him, his fingers froze when he went to type and his breath was coming out short.

Hesitantly, key by key, he typed in his brother's name.

Feliciano Vargas.

A lot of articles came up. The mouse felt like lead as Lovino dragged it over to click the top one. After all these years, he was finally going to know what happened to his brother. Why his brother had to die. Who was the bastard that took him from the world, from his twin and from his Nonno? As he tearfully came to the end of the article, he could only think how lucky that bastard was, to never pay for his crimes until his twilight years and live a full life, a life Lovino couldn't end because the bastard would spend the rest of it rotting in prison. Otherwise, he'd hunt him down and beat the shit out of him until he stopped breathing and then some.

Lovino had been living in a dreamlike state since, as if all of his actions were being performed by someone else. It was hard to feel like it was over when he'd gone forty years with a weight on his shoulders. Sometimes he was strong enough to live with it, other times it held him back and made him ache in ways he could never soothe.

He knew what he needed to do. In the past few years, he'd only visited his family four times a year, the bare minimum. A day for each anniversary of passing, and Christmas. Now that he finally had closure (as conflicting and confusing as it felt), he really should tell the rest of the family. Sometimes when he visited the site, he felt absolutely nothing. But he knew this time, it would be just as raw as when his twin was first lowered in the ground.

He kept his head down and glared at the ground as he walked through the cemetery. It was lovely as far as cemeteries went, not that Lovino had been to many others. The walls were built from old stone and matched the paths that wound around the lot and separated the grass from the blocks of stone that were a sum of someone's entire existence on this pathetic planet. He scowled and glared ahead. He hated this miserable place.

Another lovely feature of the cemetery was its many large trees which shaded the polished stones and walkways. There was a tree right next to his family's plot, serving as a useless marker. Muscle memory carried Lovino to his final destination. He was almost there when he looked up and saw two tall figures, one blond, one silver, lurking by the tree and standing directly in front of the grave. Lovino halted. What the fuck were they doing here? Who the fuck were they and why the fuck were they visiting his family? They looked far too young to have known his Nonno, whose friends were known to Lovino and visited before he passed. Why else would the visit, here and now? Was it because his brother's passing had been dusted off and put back in the limelight? His brother's grave wasn't public knowledge! They could fuck right off!

He was about to storm up and have a go at them when they turned to leave and their eyes met. He didn't know what made him hesitate, usually his wrath was an unstoppable force. But the respectful and haunted look on the young men was something familiar.

As they passed him, they offered no sorry, no condolences, no words. Instead, they just gave him a firm nod. Lovino would've screamed demanded what the fuck did that mean if he wasn't so... bewildered. He kept his eye on them as they walked away.

Whatever, he didn't need some fuckers weirdness ruining his day. He approached the grave and slowly lowered himself in front of it. Doing so had been easier forty years ago. He scraped his knees on this very path on the first anniversary of being an only child, when the weight on his shoulders caused his legs to buckle.

The grave was simple. A large rectangle that could hold many people, and it did. A large stone cross towered over the headstone that had little room left as so many names were carved into it.

It started with Nonna, who passed before he was born. May she rest in peace. Then his parents, may they rest in peace. He hoped they did. They never lived long enough to see what happened to their baby. But he spent many hours talking to their gravestone, so maybe they had a little inkling. Maybe Feliciano told them when he joined them.

Feliciano was next, may he rest in peace. The plot was sectioned, so Lovino knew which slab of polished stone sat atop whose decaying remains. Feliciano's slab was beautiful, carved with vines and flowers and once completely gold, not that his twin could enjoy it. And the gold was chipping. Their grandfather wasn't around to complain about the upkeep, so Lovino supposed that was his job. Every year he ranted to no one about the deteriorating state of the site.

Augustus' slab was last. He knew his end was coming and only wanted a plain funeral, telling Lovino to save his money. During his last moments, he confided that he was looking forward to the end. He enjoyed the time he spent with Lovino, but now he was ready to meet Feliciano again and cradle him in his arms once more. Lovino wanted to curse him out at the time but was too busy choking on tears. But now was the perfect time.

"Fuck you, bastard." He snarled. "If only you held on for a little longer then I wouldn't need to be telling you this, but they caught the guy. They finally caught the fucking bastard and you weren't here to see it. I hope you're having the time of your life up there because I'm still here!"

He ran his hand through his greying hair and his throat tightened. His knees hurt and he hadn't even been here that long.

"If you just fucking waited a couple more fucking years, then you could be telling Feli this yourself bastard. You could've had your cake and ate it too! You could've fucking got the closure you fucking cried about all the fucking time and then fucking died and told Feli that the bastard didn't get the fuck away with it."

His anger didn't burn like it usually did. It felt like he was desperately trying to start a fire after a flood and all the wood was soaked and his hands were numb. Maybe it was because he didn't get a response. He was yelling with a block of stone, which wasn't the most reactive. He glared at it, and it became blurry.

'Here lies Augustus Vargas,

1930-2019, aged 89,

Beloved husband, father and grandfather.'

He only died three years ago, leaving Lovino all alone. At least it was a slow descent as his Nonno's health failed and Lovino had plenty of time to exercise his upcoming grief. He felt slightly guilty that his grandfather bore the brunt of it, but the man always took it with a smile. It made Lovino feel sick that he couldn't turn back the clock and slap himself for being such a bastard to the bastard. Fucking bastard.

"They caught the fucker and he's going to spend the rest of his miserable life behind bars. Pray that I don't kill someone so I become his cellmate and finish him off."

He turned to his brother, may he rest in peace. His golden carving long lost its shine.

'Here lies Feliciano Vargas,

1962-1982, aged 20,

Beloved grandson, son and brother,

A shining light extinguished too soon.'

"Did you hear that Feli? That bastard was caught. I hope your spirit is free."

But knowing his brother, his spirit has been free all along. He was in a better place after all. Lovino was the one who needed to be freed, but that would only come with time. He leaned over, resting his palm on the cold grave as he caught his brother up on everything he missed out on.