Lovers who Uncover

If Lovino Vargas could have described that moment, he would have just used one single word: colors. Because that's exactly what it was for him: a kaleidoscope, like being in a painting full of colors, of brush smudges in all the different shades existing. This was what the streetlights turned into, while he was passing them in a car, exceeding the speed limit by a lot. His upper body was stuck out of the window, while Antonio was driving the vehicle and laughing like a maniac, trying to flee from the police. The Italian raised his hands and felt his fingers cutting through the wind, which was tousling his hair and drying the sweat on his forehead. His barely opened eyes watched the bunch of lights which were the city's neon signs. He shouted at the top of his lungs, to let out the adrenaline produced by the ecstasy pills. Antonio shared his euphoria and accompanied him by howling like a wild wolf, while he pushed his foot on the accelerator pedal, and they left behind the police car that was trying to make its way through the traffic. Lovino sat back into the car and immediately clang to Antonio's neck to kiss him fiercely, biting his lips as if he wanted to rip them out. Meanwhile, the Spaniard was just trying to keep his eyes on the road, letting out moans from time to time when he felt Lovino's teeth sinking into his lower lip until it bled, and his nails scratching his neck. Every now and then, he averted his gaze from the steering wheel to look at the Italian, who could see nothing but a halo of green light in his partner's emerald irises... colors... everything was reduced to colors. With one hand, Antonio grabbed Lovino by the hip while holding the steering wheel with the other and trying to keep his gaze between his lover and the road... feeling the ecstasy, the danger, the risk of crashing with another car and killing himself or maybe some innocent person who was crossing the road. Well, why not! He didn't mind flying out of the vehicle, breaking through the glass and rolling a couple of meters on the asphalt with shattered bones as long as he was with Lovino, his most important drug among all those they inserted every single day into their bloodstreams, their noses, their mouths, or their lungs. If he could be with Lovino, die together with him in some sort of wicked Romeo and Julia scene, then there wasn't anything else in this world he could ask god for. God or whatever being that brought his beloved man into his life. Lovino finally freed his mouth and continued with his neck, then went on to his chest and descended even further. Antonio threw back his head, feeling his heart pounding with such force that his chest was starting to hurt. But this only increased the intensity of the moment. From one moment to the next he turned the corner, leaving behind the police sirens, and couldn't avoid letting out a laugh of triumph between moans, something very similar to what used to be his dreamy laugh a couple of years ago. The time when he had been everything but the wreck he turned himself into. He kept on driving until reaching a shabby motel almost at the beginning of the highway. Then he and Lovino staggered out of the car with a little bag, out of which some banknote bundles could be seen sticking out. Hand in hand, they run up to the reception, where an elder man looked at them suspiciously and examined their pale faces, their bloodshot eyes and their anxious behavior, but gave them a room anyway, when they paid by cash. Still holding hands, the two guys hurried to their room, slammed the door and landed on the bed, devouring each other with kisses. Kneeling on it, they began to undress and to kiss the skin of one another, feeling their partner's burning heat. From time to time, their eyes met, while exploring the other's body as if it was the first time. Colors... and again, for Lovino everything was reduced to colors, ranging from the red on Antonio's cheeks and the blood that sometimes was still leaving some small wound on the Spaniard's lips to his bright green eyes and tanned skin... colors and sensations. This was everything that existed in the Italian's temporary world, and he fell for this moment with a unique intensity, because this was what he lived for, for these fleeting lapses of time, this limited perfection. This was why he continued taking drugs, stealing and staying with Antonio. Everything to feel all of this. The pores on their fingers kept the tactile memory of both of their bodies, their skin was like a diary written in braille – just by touching, they could read each other's memories, sadnesses and passions. Passing from the bruises on their elbows, the scars from distant fights, the taste of LSD on their tongues to the furrows on their cheeks caused by all the tears, their profaned bodies were nothing more than an anthology of tragedies. But just like the night is swallowed up by daybreak, the drug's effect wears off, and the dream world is taken away by reality. Antonio woke up searching with his hand for Lovino's body until he found him lying on the bed, with his back turned to him. Every morning, the Spaniard was invaded by a feeling of bitterness when he looked at the other man's back, so small and fragile that it seemed as if it could break with every movement. Thus, he placed his hand on the Italian's shoulder as gentle as he could and pulled him lightly towards his own body to hug him, hoping not to break him. Then, he perceived the other's scent. Even through the strong stench of the alcohol, he could still faintly smell the fragrance of hazelnuts... yes, Lovino always smelled of hazelnuts. However, every time he did this and showed these protective gestures, Lovino freed himself from his grasp. And this time, too, he took down the other's arm with a grunt. "Get off me," he ordered hoarsely, while sitting up in bed and stroking his hair back. Frowning, he noticed the piercing pain in his head and the dryness in his mouth and throat. "Lovi, why are you treating me like this?" asked Antonio in a childish tone to annoy the Italian who staggered through the room, wrapped in a bedsheet. He didn't respond, just poured himself a glass of water and drank it until the last drop, letting the liquid escape from the corners of his mouth. After that, he dedicated an empty look to Antonio and sat down on the bed to get dressed. Antonio crawled to him and hugged him again from behind, passing his arms around his partner's neck and pressing his cheek to Lovino's. "Answer me, Lovino: Why are you treating me like this?" he asked again, closing his eyes. "Sometimes I have the impression that you only love me when you're on drugs. Am I right?" "I'm not a damn junkie," answered the Italian, escaping his grasp again. Antonio only laughed. "Yes, you are and me too because of you," he said between laughs, angering Lovino who turned around with an aggressive look on his face. "Don't blame me for your addictions," he spat. The green-eyed man managed to get hold of him again, still being on the bed, and grabbed Lovino's hips, who was now standing in front of him. Then, the Spaniard buried his face in the Italian's chest. "I'm not blaming you at all, just saying that I turned into this only for you, to be able to accompany you to hell itself, if you wanted me to... I exist only for you," Antonio said, enjoying Lovino stroking his hair. Because just like Lovino lived for the sake of these moments of hallucination, Antonio lived to stay on Lovino's side during that time. "If that's the truth, then let's go... accompany me to hell." The Italian took his face with both hands, forcing him to look up and seeing Antonio's smile, who seemed happy to accept that invitation. Like being forced, the Italian kissed him quickly on the lips, while the other one kept smiling. For a second, Lovino tried to search for Antonio's real smile in it, the real smile of the man he met a couple of years ago... but didn't find it. Not waiting any longer, the two of them rapidly dressed, left the keys at the reception and got into the car to start another journey, probably to hell... or, with other words, the first place the highway would take them to. They had the radio on. Listening to the device's electronic sounds, Antonio was driving, occasionally turning his eyes fleetingly towards Lovino who liberated himself clumsily from the tight seat belt and let his gaze wander, while his eyes grew dull and a crude smile appeared on his lips. The Spaniard stroke the Italian's cheek with one hand, and the other man took it into both of his own, feeling... reading on his partner's skin the story he could swear he already knew by heart. And Antonio was sensing Lovino's cheek, palpating the path the tears had left and also reading the other's sorrows. With his eyes concentrated on the road and his hand still on his lover's face, he began remembering how he had fallen in love and who he had become since then. He used to be a normal guy... yes, normal like anyone else. With a family that hold together, loving parents who supported him his whole life, he was an intelligent young man surrounded by friends who loved him and with whom he had fun. His grades in university weren't perfect, but he was a student the professors sometimes praised for his effort. That was his life, his routine in a world where there was only light of optimism and hope in the future. But among all of this happiness he sensed a certain emptiness he couldn't fill, like a hollow painting of a joyous scene that never changes and becomes superficial, to the point of being frivolous. And that was the moment he had met him, the one who took him out of this empty happiness. The very first time he had seen Lovino at a party his friends had invited him to. He had never been to this place before, and it didn't inspire a lot of confidence to him, being hidden somewhere in a forgotten corner of the city. Lovino was sitting at the counter, gulping down shots like they were water. Antonio, who at that time still had that little, happy-go-lucky smile, approached him, probably attracted by the dark aura Lovino emanated, like a porcupine putting up its spines. They exchanged a couple of words, or at least the Spaniard tried to, looking at Lovino's eyes that possessed a dark brown color, perfectly matching his personality: the guy he was trying to socialize with was rude and aggressive and there was something about him that almost made him seem savage. And that was exactly what had captivated Antonio: seeing this special someone contrasting with the bubble of happiness he himself was living in... as if this person was completely out of place with everything surrounding him, real, authentic... a human being capable of feelings and not a prefabricated creature that only knew how to smile... just like the one he considered himself to be. Then, Antonio somehow managed to get his phone number, or, at least the number of his mobile phone, and thanks to his persistence, he got Lovino to agree to meet him occasionally. As time passed, their conversations became a little bit deeper and they both began to confide things to each other from time to time. Antonio liked listening to Lovino when the Italian was under the effect of the drugs, because only then he was really honest with him. Well... that sounded a bit sadistic, but it was the truth, because that was the only way he could see the most humane and bare part of Lovino's being. When the other was high, it was as if Antonio could cut apart his heart and look at all of his secrets. When that happened, Lovino was almost always lying on a park bench, with his head on Antonio's lap. He told him about painful things, about his sorrows and how he found a perfect escape within the drugs, which were his indispensable anesthetic... because they transported him right into the moment, where everything was ideal, that definitive instant that let all the sadness turn into a feeling of intoxication, during which his body fell apart, but his mind was free of every trace of mundanely suffering... during which all of him could get destroyed, but his soul would live forever. And the more Antonio listened to Lovino, the more he got to know his story and the story of his twin brother who the Italian considered his other half, the good one (as he himself used to say), the more he fell in love and felt like being part of that story and the other man himself. One day, during one of their numerous conversations, he finally decided to become a definitive part of Lovino's world. He didn't really remember what happened that time, but what he did remember, was the heat that burned through his whole body, him euphorically laughing together with Lovino and the way they undressed and did it in an abandoned, dirty apartment in the middle of the city. His hands still remembered how he had touched Lovino's entire body, his hips the Italian's legs around them, and his lips still could taste the other's salty sweat. But what he memorized the best, was being able to sense Lovino's pain and feeling alive... for the first time ever he had felt truly alive. Happiness tends to be like a useless anesthetic that completely numbs you, but pain and suffering, on the other hand, are what makes you feel alive, what reminds you through blood and tears that there is still something inside you, palpitating with force produced by agony. And so, Antonio stepped further and further into the hole where Lovino lived, missed lessons at university, sometimes didn't even return home, and all of that to be with Lovino... the man who, from one moment to the next, had become his own, personal drug, the one he really couldn't exist without. He began to breath for him, to wake up for him, and if Lovino was willing to destroy himself for a mere fleeting hallucination, then Antonio would too, together with him in that same scenario, because Lovino was his proof for being alive and without him, he would go back to that empty imitation he had called his life... lacking of everything. Now they were two lovers on the run who passed their days between robberies and the constant fear of an overdose. Both of them sometimes asked themselves, at which point their lives had taken such a turn that they passed from being just two guys wanting to have fun and escape their problems to criminals fleeing from the police from one state to another, carrying bags with money, staying in any highway motel they found and continuing that way, since they didn't know anymore what else to do. And again, they found themselves in some place in the middle of nowhere, where the highway could be seen from the distance and also a gas station with a tiny shop that probably didn't have more than a handful of customers in a day. "Leave it already, it's time," grumbled Lovino, his tongue heavy, shoving Antonio lightly, who threw his head back and rubbed his nose to brush off the leftover white powder from his nostrils. "Ready?" asked the Spaniard, inhaling deeply and continuing to rub his nose intensively. "Ready," Lovino answered. Then, they looked each other in the eye, like they always did before a robbery, and there was a certain strange determination in their gazes. And before leaving the car, they, as if being coordinated, grabbed each other faces and fervently kissed, wanting to share their courage and conviction and a bit of their fear, because like this they would make sure to watch out for one another. "Let's go to hell," Lovino said after separating from Antonio. "Together," the Spaniard added and smiled, giving him another short kiss. They finally got out. Everything went according to plan: to enter like normal customers and then start the panic. They took out their guns, Lovino shouted orders (something he was strangely really good at) and they examined the faces of the scared people that rose their hands or threw themselves to the floor. Some of them even cried and begged for their lives. Then, both of them took the money and didn't lower their weapons until they felt safe. Still feeling the ecstasy and their fingers tightly on the trigger, they ran back to the car and, with their hearts racing like crazy, threw the money bag on the rear seat and sped away laughing and with screeching tires as fast as their engine could take. Driving on the highway through the sunset, Lovino was again losing himself in colors, in that collection of orange tones combined with the smell of marihuana. When night arrived and the stars shone from the sky, Antonio finally decided to park the car at a side of the highway and dragged Lovino out, to lie down side by side on the car's hood and front window and admire the stars, listening to the sounds of other cars speeding by. "This is so perfect, Lovino: you and me against the world," Antonio joked, searching for Lovino's hand and taking it into his own. "What makes you think that the world's against us?" grumbled the Italian. "Nothing, it just sounds romantic," answered the green-eyed man giggling and raised his lover's hand to kiss it quickly. The other grimaced. "If we really were the world's enemies and everyone was after us, would you escape and stay with me till the end?" Lovino asked, looking at the tiny shining dots on the sky in a state of soberness he didn't like in the slightest. "Till the end and beyond, if there was something more after it." The Spaniard positioned himself on top of the Italian, looking at his desolate eyes that were searching for an exit. Then he made him close them to kiss his eyelids and moved on to his nose and lips. Lovino tried to reciprocate the latter, but pushed him away after a couple of minutes. "Wait, I need something..." The Italian tried to stand up and look for what he had in mind, but Antonio grabbed his arm. "No, you don't," he said, wanting to continue, but the other didn't let him. "Let go!" Lovino screamed, trying to break free from Antonio, who didn't want to. "I won't! Let's do it at least once without that shit." "Let me remind you that you're consuming it too. And now let go." But instead of obeying, the Spaniard kissed him again, holding him tightly by the arms, impeding him to get away. It was a desperate kiss, longing for reciprocation. Antonio's hands tried to hold the other back, keep him sober, he wanted to know what it felt like to be with a Lovino who could sense, not with an intoxicated one... but Lovino kicked him in the stomach and hit him in the face with his fist. "What's the matter with you?!" Antonio screamed, being shoved aside by Lovino who opened the car door, searching for the bag with the stuff they recently had bought. "Absolutely nothing, it's your damn behavior that's sending me over the edge," answered the Italian, rummaging around desperately and muttering curses under his breath. Antonio rose to his feet as well, yanked the little bag out of his hands and threw it as far as he could. "The fuck's wrong with you, you idiot?!" screamed Lovino out in fear and wanted to run after it, but before he could even make one step, Antonio held him back with his arms. "Let me go!" screeched the Italian, squirming, punching his arms, kicking and scratching him. "Answer me, Lovino! Is it true that you only love me when you're drugged? Do you really only love me when you have something in your damn blood system?! I love you always, all the time," asked Antonio, hugging him roughly, while Lovino tried to escape. "Let go, I have to go for it, let me go!" he screamed hysterically. "You have to answer me first, tell me the truth..." the Spaniard begged. "Yes... I love you, I love you all the time as well," said Lovino in a fake, condescending tone, turned around to grab Antonio's face and looked him in the eyes. "I love you always, at every single moment... and now let me go, alright? Please." The devastated Antonio loosened his hold, watching how the other immediately ran to fetch the bag. What was Lovino's true love? That night was exactly like the other ones... in the car's narrow space, somewhere in a place they didn't care to know the name of, the window glass fogged up and Lovino, immersed in his intoxicated state, was longing for Antonio again. The Spaniard was weak, giving in to his addiction... and while they were making love, he began to think and had the impression that it wasn't like in former times. The inebriating sensation of being alive and euphoria was gone. Now, the caresses resembled knives that tore him apart, the kisses burnt like marking irons on his skin and Lovino's voice near his ear sounded like the whisper of a suffering soul. Yes, Lovino was destroying himself and Antonio joining him, because it was something like a masochistic pleasure, as if he had invaded Lovino's world to the point of completely forgetting the happy one that had been a part of him once. And now, this universe of desolation was their mutual space, only in this world that was falling apart, they felt at ease. What an irony... an irony that Antonio let himself be dragged there to feel alive, and now was addicted to a person leading him into his own destruction and a slow, painful death. It was another day. They didn't have a lot of money left, so had to get more. Obviously, the only way they knew. So, they found themselves once again entering a shop and looking around in search for some security guard or cameras on the walls. Founding nothing, they proceeded with their usual routine: weapons, screams, panic, and the employee trembling with his hands full of money. But this time, something was different... their plan had an error: a simple emergency button. When they were ready to leave, they saw the police approaching them. Unable to get to their car, they had to escape running, entering some alleys and looking back. Antonio dropped everything he was carrying to grab Lovino's hand out of some ridiculous and sappy impulse he felt at that critical moment when the police were on their heels. Lovino also took him by the hand, trying to escape together... it was as if they were fleeing from the world... them against everyone, running until the end. Lovino had trouble breathing and slowed down, despite Antonio forcing him to go on. They heard an ear-piercing "Stop!", but continued to run. Then a second and a third, and before they could react, a bullet was shot through the air. Antonio felt something that not a single drug in the world could surpass... he sensed fear in every pore of his skin and an almost supernatural heat invading his entrails. And all of that intensifying a thousand times over when he felt Lovino's fingers slipping out of his grip. Horrified, he turned around and saw the other one collapsing to the ground, while a red puddle began to grow on the asphalt. "Lovino!" With a heartbreaking scream, Antonio immediately stopped and fell to his knees in front of the Italian, who was panting and breathing heavily. Blood was gushing out from his side, exactly where one of his lungs was located. Antonio ignored the police's orders again, so they threw him to his stomach and placed his hands behind his back to handcuff him, while he was staring in utter horror at his reason to live, who was lying on the ground with an indefinable expression on his face, which was neither fear nor pain. "I always love you, Antonio..." Lovino managed to whisper, while his eyes lost their shine. "I always love you when I see those colors, always love you when I feel alive-" If Lovino Vargas could have described that moment, he would have just used one single word: colors. A beautiful, intense red and blue, mixed with a shining emerald green halo. A palette of colors accompanying this perfect moment, where pain didn't exist and where the warmth of a hand was engraved in his skin, a love story written all over his body... on his nose, his mouth, and his veins. A perfect moment that this time would last forever.