Lovers who Uncover

“I hurt myself today To see if I still feel I focus on the pain The only thing that's real…” Johnny Cash - Hurt This was day number 100 of Lovino Vargas’ supposed new life, and all he had to say was that it was nothing but a painting full of chiaroscuros. A monochrome image. And Lovino hated the lack of colors. Leaving the rehabilitation clinic with a discreet backpack hanging from his shoulder, he couldn't help frowning when he noticed the dark tones of the boring scenery surrounding him… gray, white, black; the colors of sobriety and the hues of reality. He despised them all. Lovino took a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and walked to the bus stop. He had been waiting thirty minutes at the door of that damn clinic for someone to pick him up, but no one had come, so he decided to return home on his own. Taking long puffs from his cigarette and desperate to consume it to the end, he concentrated on the shapes the smoke formed in the air, and dropped the ashes to the ground, watching them being taken away by the wind. The bus finally arrived at the stop, and the young man threw the rest of the cigarette away, without bothering to stomp it out, and got on. The people inside barely noticed him, but he noticed everyone, the pathetic existence represented by each passenger, their bored faces, their empty eyes looking out of the windows, their meaningless conversations, supposed to fill the gaps of an unbearable silence. He hated them… hated the shades of gray tones that summed up these pointless lives, hated the buzzing of their mutterings… He hated being there and anywhere else. Lovino took a seat at the back of the bus and decided to imitate the others by looking out of the window as if there was really something interesting out there to see. Approximately 45 minutes passed like that until the bus reached a nice street consisting of houses with white walls and red roofs, and neat yards with children playing on the sidewalk or riding bicycles, while the housewives were sharing the latest gossip. He pressed the button, indicating that this was his stop, and felt nauseous as soon as he stepped out on the street. It was a miracle that he didn't barf as he started walking through these streets where he always felt like he didn't belong. And once again, everything was black and white, once again, everything looked bland and a bit disgusting to him. The line between his eyebrows deepened as he arrived in front of a particular house’s door, rang the doorbell, and waited. A singsong voice announced that its owner would soon come open. And when this happened, Lovino watched almost in slow motion how the smile disappeared from the face of his younger brother Feliciano, and how the corners of the latter's always smiling mouth lost strength, turning into an expression of surprise and slight sadness. “Brother,” Feliciano said in a barely audible tone. “What are you doing here?”   “Yep, I’m happy to see you as well, I’m fine, thanks for not asking. Would you be so kind as to let me into my own house now?” the older one grumbled and wanted to enter, but Feliciano didn’t move from his spot. “No one told us that you’d be discharged today.” There was still bewilderment on his face. “Well, maybe because no one picked up the phone for an entire week. Or rather didn't want to… who knows,” Lovino replied, shoving his twin aside. Feliciano closed the door and hurried towards the other, who was walking towards the stairs, grabbing his arm. “I missed you so much,” Feliciano said, his voice breaking. Lovino turned around. “Sure, and this is why you visited me every day,” he replied sarcastically and freed himself roughly. “They didn't let me! Mom and Dad… didn't allow me to visit you!” “Ah yes, you're the obedient kid, I forgot. Aren’t you tired of always doing what others say?”  The younger one lowered his head, embarrassed. “They told me it was for your own good,” he whispered, not daring to face Lovino, who let out a dry, humorless laugh. “Where are they, anyway? Obviously not organizing a surprise welcome party for me,” Lovino asked, looking around the colorless house and starting to walk upstairs. “They went to an event,” Feliciano answered. His brother didn't even listen properly. “Lovino, I did miss you… I’m serious.” This time, the older one stopped before putting his foot on the last step of the stairs and gave Feliciano a sideways glance, indicating that he was trying to believe him. Finally, Lovino turned back and headed to his room that probably had been left the way it was on the day he had been forced into that clinic. But when he opened the door, he noticed with disgust that his room looked as if it belonged to someone else. There were new sheets and covers on the bed, the furniture didn't have even one speck of dust, his old magazines had been replaced with books, and the posters on the wall with mediocre paintings of landscapes you could buy in every shop. They had even repainted the room, changed the color to a beautiful sky blue… as if trying to erase every trace of his existence. He groaned and cursed, slammed the door shut, threw his backpack into a corner, and kneeled down in front of his bed, searching for something under the mattress, running his hands over each part of the wood. But didn't find anything, which made him swear once more. Next, he quickly opened his cupboard, where new clothes were hanging, and resumed his search in some drawers. Starting to become desperate, he tried to loosen one of the furniture’s boards, but it seemed to have been repaired, so he punched it and went into his bathroom, looking between the loose tiles and behind the toilet tank. “For fuck’s sake!” he finally yelled, collapsing onto his bed and nervously moving his right foot for almost ten minutes. Then he got up, took his backpack and emptied it, throwing his few belongings carelessly through the room, until he found a case full of strips with different pills. “I’ll have to make do with that,” he said between clenched teeth, taking the amphetamine tablets and putting three into his mouth. Swallowing them with some effort, he threw himself back on the bed and waited for them to kick in. Little by little… and painfully slowly, the colors came back, while the black, white, and gray were melting away. Lovino’s heart started to beat faster, and a few involuntary giggles escaped his throat. His room had turned into a kaleidoscope, and his body bustled with energy. He needed to move in order to relieve it from all that euphoria that had suddenly attacked him together with that wave of intense red, yellow, and blue tones he saw when he closed his eyes and even brighter when he opened them again. Lovino quickly took his headphones out of his backpack and played a random song. The electronic sounds made his ears and head throb, and his hands and feet started to move, led by the energy. He had to jump, jump, jump until getting tired while everything started to shine, to become perfect again. And he laughed, he even laughed, for God’s sake! Because everything lost its meaning, everything turned into nonsense, including his pain, his resentment, and that series of discomforts that were always plaguing him. They shrank until becoming a speck of dust that vanished in thin air, making room for complete perfection, a mental Eden. Time didn't pass, the clocks had stopped, and he felt eternal, immortal, young forever… the hours stood still and no one moved. Stood still. "Brother, open the door!" Feliciano was knocking on his door for several minutes, but Lovino didn't hear him, so the younger twin was left with no other choice than to use the key. Amidst his trance, Lovino saw his little brother enter and jumped at him with a hug, leaning his entire weight against him. "Feli!" He giggled like a fool, clinging to Feliciano, who stumbled a few steps back, about to ask his brother what the matter was, but his question answered itself when he spotted the pills on the bed, making him feel a lump in his throat and Lovino's weight increase a thousandfold. "Brother... you're doing it again," he said, looking now into the impatient eyes of the older one, who was sweating so much that his hair was clinging to his face. "Why? You've just gotten out today!" Feliciano freed himself from Lovino's grip and took him by the shoulders. The latter let out a stupid laugh. "I never stopped," Lovino confessed, swaying his body from side to side, trying to spend the energy that had piled up in his body and feeling his crazy heartbeat in his carotid artery. Feliciano was horrified. "It's stupid to think I'd stop if I'm locked up with these damn junkies. They're sick, they manage to get whatever even from under some stones." He moved his hair back, panting. "You're sick," Feliciano replied, and as soon as these words had left his mouth, he received a powerful shove that made him bump painfully against the wall and look fearfully at Lovino. "Don't compare me with these fucking sickos!" the latter screamed, scaring his brother, and started to walk quickly to and fro through the room, breathing even heavier, and raising his hands again and again to his hair, combing it back, as if it was some kind of nervous tic. "You don't understand, you don't understand, Feliciano! No one does!" he continued yelling as if to let out all his euphoria, while squatting on the ground and starting to rock back and forth, while still messing up his hair and looking up at Feliciano, who was getting more and more scared. "Then explain it to me! You don't need to take drugs!" Feliciano snapped. This seemed to anger Lovino even more, who jumped to his feet and headed to his twin, tugging at him with such force that he made him fall to the ground. Then he got on top of him. The younger one covered his face with his arms, thinking that his brother would start beating him, since this wouldn't be the first time. But instead, Lovino grabbed him by the arms, struggling with him to reveal his face. "Explain it to you?! How should I explain to you that I'm dead?! That all the shit inside me killed me a long time ago!" He shouted at the top of his lungs, approaching Feliciano's face even more and squeezing the latter's wrists until making him cry. Tears were running over the younger twin's cheeks. Lovino roughly let go of him and reached out to the pills on his bed, throwing them into Feliciano's face. "This is my life-substitute. I'm a corpse, try to understand that!" Finally, he leaned his back against the bed, sitting on the floor and listening to Feliciano's crying. Placing his hands on his face, his twin kept on weeping, as if he was, indeed, mourning over Lovino's dead body. And Lovino himself bent his legs and rested his elbows on his knees, hiding his face between them, furrowing his brow, and narrowing his eyes, watching all the colors that had been surrounding him gradually getting replaced by the same old dark hues once again. With every lament and sob let out by Feliciano, a new gray spot appeared on the colorful carpet the older one had been admiring. It was as if Feliciano's tears were like black ink running down his face, gigantic drops that were blurring Lovino's shining rainbow. The moment was vanishing, everything was fading... what an ephemeral placebo... "Leave," he muttered, returning to his grumpy personality, but his brother didn't seem to hear him, just continuing to cry bitterly. "I told you to scram!" Lovino exclaimed, getting up and pulling the other by the arm, dragging him across his room and out of it, ignoring his protests. Then he shut the door right in front of him. "Brother, open! Let me help you!" Feliciano was shouting from the other side of the door, banging on it with his fists, but Lovino just covered his ears with his hands and lay down on his stomach on the bed. Palpating his sheets, he looked for his headphones and closed his eyes, and started listening to music once again. This time, he felt tired, so extremely tired as if his body had been caked with several layers of concrete. When he opened his eyes again, the battery of his player was empty, and he was lying there with messy hair and his face pressed flat against the bedsheets. He sleepily looked at his watch. It was already seven p.m. "Shit," he said, realizing that he had spent the majority of the day sleeping. Rubbing his eyes, he tried to get rid of his sleepiness, and attempted to arrange his hair. Then he got up and headed to the bathroom, looking into the mirror and hoping that his appearance wasn't too bad, grumbling at the sight of his slightly reddened eyes. Lovino washed his face trying to make himself look a bit more presentable, which seemed to work. It was time to face his parents, to pretend that he was a new, clean person, who was hoping and believing in a brilliant future, where life would give him everything, where he was part of something and not the human trash he used to be. Who perhaps could turn into someone normal, the person they had always wanted him to be… Going downstairs, he managed to hear his parents' muttering and the busy sounds from the kitchen. The smell of pasta started to fill the house. Lovino's stomach rebelled, and he felt the desire to return to his room and stay there until after midnight, as he usually did. But he couldn't. He had to give his parents false hopes, otherwise he wouldn't get any money from them... and well, money makes the world go round. Yes, even Lovino's rotten one. He slowly reached the kitchen, and everyone stopped what they were doing when they saw him. Feliciano just looked down, as he felt Lovino's eyes on him, being silently threatened to not say a word about what had happened that morning after his brother's arrival. "Hi," Lovino said, breaking the silence. His gentle mother put on a strained smile, and his father placed his wine glass aside and greeted him with a movement of his head, trying to look paternal. Lovino's nausea worsened while he witnessed their horrible act. His mother tried to place her hands on his shoulders, but stopped, instead putting one on his head and immediately removing it once again. After a while, she gathered the courage to stroke his hair, while her eyes filled with tears. "Welcome," she said, now running her hands over the cheeks of her beloved son. His father got up from his chair and looked at him with attempted pride. Next, he stretched out his hand, making Lovino feel as if they were sealing a business deal. But he shook his dad's hand anyway and endured the hug and the pats on the back that followed after. "We're happy to have you back," the adult said. Lovino almost vomited at that. Yes, Mom and Dad, the social waste you once wanted to chase out on the streets, is now well-received at home, thanks for pretending that I have your love and support. How long did you practice all that with your therapist? These were the boy's thoughts while trying to show them something like a smile. Not really successfully, though. "Feli, you're happy too, aren't you?" his mother now approached the younger one, who was sitting at the table, still looking down. "He always begged us to let him visit you," she added, rubbing her other son's back. “Yeah… he told me when I arrived,” was everything Lovino could reply to that and shot his brother and then his parents another glance. “And why didn’t you let him?” he asked, sounding reproachful without even really intending to, and was rewarded with seeing his parents exchange gazes, looking for the right words to say. “Whatever, doesn’t matter,” Lovino added before they could come up with an excuse. “I’m already home, so we can start anew.” He’d like to burst out laughing at these stupid words. Start anew? Yeah, sure… How could they do that if everything had already gone to hell? His mother let out a sob, surely out of happiness to see that new attitude of her little black sheep. She wiped her tears away and hugged Lovino again, who rolled his eyes, a bit annoyed by that dumb performance. A few years ago, he would maybe have been overjoyed to receive such sappy displays of affection, thirsting for a bit of love and attention and all these things that made people like him feel valued and filled the emptiness that was consuming them more and more each day. But that was over. Everything inside him had already been eaten away. Too late, Mom and Dad. Too late. They sat at the table, as if it was a scene taken directly from a TV show from the 50s, and started eating dinner. Mrs. Vargas served the plates in her beautiful apron, kissing the foreheads of her men from time to time, while the head of the household was trying to chat and make jokes, praising his wife’s cooking. Lovino participated in their game, even though he couldn’t do it as naturally as them. A few times, he was just giving monosyllabic answers, other times saying how great it was to be back home, away from that rehabilitation center, and telling tragic stories about the people he had met there, or other stupid shit. “I think it’d been better, if you had stayed there a bit longer,” Feliciano intervened quietly. Everyone placed down their knives and forks and went silent. “Why do you think so, Feli?” his mother inquired in an accusing tone, and his father gave him a strict look. “Yes, Feliciano, why?” Lovino asked as well, looking straight at his brother, who shrank in his seat as he felt his twin’s hostility, struggling with himself whether he should tell his parents that Lovino wasn’t even close to being healed. “They say that it needs a lot of time to recover… completely,” was everything he could utter, reprimanding himself for being such a coward. “Lovino has spent enough time at that place,” the mother said nervously, as if she wanted to convince herself with her words. “Your mother is right, stop talking like that about your brother,” the father scolded him, thus ending the discussion. They finished their dinner, and the boys did the dishes, staying alone in the kitchen. The only sounds were the running water and them scrubbing the plates, trying to get them sparkly clean, while the adults were watching a comedy show in the living room. “Is it really necessary to hit rock-bottom?” Feliciano almost whispered out of the blue, continuing to scrub the dishes. “It is,” Lovino replied. The brothers looked at each other and placed the plates aside. “Because hitting the bottom of the abyss is the only way to know whether I was really alive, after all. The only way to find out if I can still feel something without the help of drugs, even if it should be nothing but pain. That's why.” There was not a single trace of irony, sarcasm nor mockery in the older one’s voice… just the truth. Even knowing that, perhaps, Feliciano wouldn't understand. The latter turned back to the dishes and the sink, and Lovino could see the younger one's tears fall into the soapy water and deform its surface. Lovino dried his hands and went to his room, once again locking himself in his suffocating four walls. Inside, he took the amphetamine-strips, playing around with them for a bit and wondering whether it was better to take some now or to leave it for later. Then, he remembered the phone number of someone he had met in that negligent rehabilitation center, a guy who had managed to get pills from the adjacent hospital and left a few weeks before him. He rummaged around in his pockets until finding a crumpled up piece of paper containing numbers, and looked around in his room. His phone had been confiscated before his hospitalization, so all the numbers of his dealers were lost now. Cursing for the hundredth time that day, he sneaked out of his room and entered Feliciano’s, where he saw the latter's phone lying on the bed. Without bothering to ask for permission, he took it and went over to one of the messy drawers, finding his brother’s wallet with a few banknotes inside. “Thanks for that, Feli,” he said with a slight smile, put the money into his back pocket and dialed the number. “Hello?... What’s the matter?... Whom you're speaking to? It’s me, Lovino, you bastard… Yeah, I left that hellhole today… hey, I’m not calling you to tell you stories about my return home… Of course, I have money, if I didn't, I wouldn't have called… alright. Where should we meet?... Fine, see you in two hours.” He hung up and returned to his room, taking the phone with him, in order to wait for the indicated time. Lovino knew perfectly that his entire family went to bed at ten p.m., a stupid habit they had since forever and never broke for anything in the world. So as soon as that time came, and the lights went out, he left his room as careful as a thief, taking the keys that were always in the hallway cabinet and slowly unlocking the door, hoping to not produce the tiniest sound. Finally, he managed to open the door, left the house, and closed it again, starting to walk with fast steps. The fresh breeze of the night made him feel as if he was just now starting to breathe for real since the beginning of that day. Shuddering from the cold wind, he rubbed his arms and quickened his pace in order to warm himself up. Being plagued by a slight anxiety, the way to the seedy nightclub where he was supposed to meet his acquaintance started to feel eternal to him. He looked up to the sky to not see the deserted streets that became more and more gloomy, and spotted a black firmament. Sometimes the objects he thought were stars turned out to be the flashing lights of some plane, and that night was also moonless. An unpleasant, complete darkness. Finally, he saw the club’s facade, its walls full of graffiti and its neon sign. There was a crowd of young people waiting to be let in by the bouncer, their noise not managing to drown out the live music coming from inside. Finally, Lovino found his contact, looking as extravagant and ridiculous as always.  “Lovi, I knew you would call me as soon as you got out. No one who met me once, can live without me,” Feliks said arrogantly. He was a blond guy with green eyes, who was wearing a pretty tight leather jacket, very short pants for women, and military boots with half-tied shoelaces. “How can you say that with such a straight face?” Lovino asked, making the other laugh out hysterically, as if it was a really funny joke. This made him suppose that his acquaintance must have something in his system he had consumed before meeting him, which only increased his anxiety. “Alright, so what do I get for this?” He took out the crumpled banknotes from his pocket and handed them to Feliks, who was still giggling and quickly licked his finger in order to count the money.  “Oh, Lovi, like, did you have to smash your piggy bank to buy new sweets?” he asked in a childish tone as if he was talking to a little brat and laughed mockingly. The Italian frowned, holding himself back in order to not punch Feliks, who put the money into one of his jacket’s pockets and took out a tiny bag with white powder from the other one. “You get this, my dear. If you want more, you’ll have to ask your mommy for money, and then we can do business like real adults.” “You can’t give me just that! That’s fucking theft!” Lovino protested, looking at the, in his opinion, way too small amount of cocaine. “Well, my love, if you don’t like it, you could give me my merchandise back and go scrounge some weed from the homeless down the street.” Feliks snatched the bag away and grinned mockingly at him. Lovino, however, took it back, snorting between clenched teeth. “Seriously, what a scam.” He put it away in order to enter the club. “It’s a pleasure doing business with you, Lovi, I hope you’ll call me one day to do other things that are more fun.” Feliks came closer, intending to kiss him, but Lovino violently shoved him away. “Don’t touch me, you fucking transvestite!” “It’s thanks to that fucking transvestite that you aren’t currently rolling on the floor of your room, begging for a dose. Love you, Lovi. Bye~” Quickly blowing him a kiss, Feliks left, swaying his hips and occasionally stumbling and laughing, while disappearing in the darkness of the street. The Italian approached the people trying to enter and made his way through the crowd that was demanding the bouncer to let them in. To his luck, the gigantic man pointed at him together with a small group, thinking that he was with them, so he was able to enter faster than expected. He was forced to squint, being blinded by the light shining directly onto his retinas, and the live music that was played on an improvised scene didn't even allow him to hear his own thoughts nor cursing. First of all, he headed to the bathroom, where three guys were talking about the girls they’d just met and how drunk they had to make them in order to not face any protests while dragging them to bed. Lovino grumbled and glared at the guys, but got completely ignored. So he pretended to wash his hands, waiting for them to leave, and when they did, he promptly took out the precious white powder, poured half of it on the sink, and produced a little razor blade he always had with him for times like these from his pocket. Then, he arranged the powder into two thin lines, licked his upper lip and rolled up the banknote he still had left, starting to inhale the lines one after the other. Throwing his head back, he waited until the cocaine went deeper into his system, and closed his eyes, feeling his nostrils burn a little. There it came… As he opened his eyes again, everything had stopped being gray, and the energy was spreading through his body once more, oh… it felt so good… life felt so good. So the stuff Feliks had sold him was really worth its money, after all. Just a few banknotes in exchange for a chemical imitation of something one could call happiness. Lovino left the bathroom, just to meet the neon lights again and also the smoke coming out of some machines. There was another band playing now, and the entire place got filled up with electronic music. Lovino moved his body to the rhythm of the synthesizer’s notes, feeling the heat of the crowd around him, and watching all the colors with his dilated pupils, raising his hands, as if he wanted to touch them. His body seemed so light, emitting so much euphoria that was absorbed by the music and the distorted voice of the girl singing on the scene. He shook his head, feeling invincible, inexhaustible, eternal, just like the energy that was running like crazy through his veins. From time to time, he rubbed his slightly itching nose and continued to move, bumping into all the heated bodies and jumping, hypnotized by the lights that were throbbing together with his frantically beating heart. The heat was suffocating, and sweat ran down his neck, soaking his hair. At one moment, everyone shouted in chorus with the girl, and he shouted as well, as if in order to free his body from his already rotten soul. Hoping to spit out all the decay that was piling up inside him. That was it, that was his reason to live, to exist in this world. That exact moment he was trying to prolong by increasing the doses. And after having listened to the song of that alternative electronic band and having jumped and shouted, even feeling dizzy from all the spinning around, his throat was so parched he could barely speak. Hence, he went to the bar, where the barman served him one shot after the other from whatever he had in his bottles, and Lovino downed them like water, feeling the numbness caused by the alcohol. Oh, no… he didn't want that… “The next one’s on me,” said a voice, obviously directed at Lovino. Grumpy, because someone had dared to speak to him, the latter turned around with his mafioso glare and met a pair of abnormally shining green eyes. “You don’t mind, right?” asked their owner, a brown-haired tanned guy, who was rather handsome, but had a dumb smile all over his face. “Actually, I do mind,” Lovino replied, waiting for his next drink. "Seriously? I never thought it was possible to mind free drinks.” The guy laughed like an idiot and ordered two more glasses, moving one into Lovino's direction, after the barman had placed them on the counter. “What part of ‘I do mind’ didn't you understand?” The Italian looked at the drink. “See it as an apology for having offended you,” said the stranger, taking little sips from his own. Lovino snorted and emptied his in one go without even a thanks. “What’s your name?” inquired the guy with his strong Spanish accent and smiled again, as if wanting to look like a love hero from a commercial movie, making Lovino raise his palm in front of the latter's face. “Cut that shit out. Please don’t start now with something like ‘Why are you so alone in a place like this?’. I think you must have noticed by now, that I’m not a girl and also not gay, not to mention that I don't want to become friends with someone who wants nothing but to get drunk and whine about his problems to me. So before you continue that stupid dynamic typical of guys like you — I saw you glancing towards your friends — just look for someone else, because I won't waste my time with you. And now scram,” Lovino ordered as sourly as only he could. The other was a bit taken aback and blinked a few times, but then burst out laughing. “You got me, I was really about to ask you what you were doing here all alone. Well, in fact, I was planning to say that to some cute girl first, but you were way more interesting. Fine then, since we can skip all that now, how about giving me your phone number?” The stranger just didn't want to give up, earning himself a few heavy glares, but not seeming affected by them in the slightest. “Do I have to repeat that I’m not gay, bisexual or of any other orientation that might make me want to have sex with you?”  The guy named Antonio clicked his tongue at that answer and pretended to be disappointed. “Oh, what a shame, and I thought you were already drunk enough to at least do me a blow job in the bathroom… what an unlucky guy I am,” he joked, wondrously managing to draw out a dry laugh from Lovino and make him smile a bit. Well, that one was a bit witty, at least. Antonio drank another sip of his not even half-empty glass and took out his phone. “Okay, so, will you give me your number?” He smiled once more at Lovino, who raised an eyebrow, not quite believing that he was still insisting. “Maybe I will call you one day, and you’ll be so drunk that you’ll want to start something with me after all. I believe in fate and coincidences.” “Will you let me in peace if I do?” Lovino asked. The other nodded, so the Italian snatched the phone from him and wrote a number into it. “I’ll dial it now, just to check if you haven’t given me a fake one,” the guy said, still smiling. Lovino frowned, erased the number, and wrote Feliciano’s correct one this time, since he had seized his brother's phone that day. Then he gave Antonio's back to him, without adding his name to the number. “And your name is?” Antonio was about to write it down. “You only asked me for my number,” Lovino answered, paid for his drinks, and headed to the bathroom once more. The effect of the alcohol just wasn't gratifying enough for him, and two lines of cocaine weren’t either for an entire night. He heard the one who was clearly a Spaniard laugh behind him. Antonio decided to go after him and got up as well after having saved the number, making his way through the crowd and stopping for a moment to tell his two friends, a blond guy with blue eyes and an albino with red ones, about what had happened. They encouraged him to follow Lovino to the bathroom, just to see if something would happen after all. And if not, he would still have his number, at least.  He obeyed, taking a deep breath before opening the door. But he had never expected to see the following scene: Lovino was bent over the sink and inhaling some white powder. The Spaniard was completely flabbergasted, the Italian, however, merely looked into the mirror, wiped his nose, and then directed the gaze of his dilated pupils at the other, who was looking for the right words to say. “Is this… cocaine?” was the only thing Antonio could utter, like an innocent schoolchild. “‘Course not, it’s sugar,” Lovino replied, rubbing his nostrils and letting out a brief laugh. “And I’m Willy Wonka.” He tapped the Spaniard's forehead with his index finger and left the bathroom. This was day number 100 of Lovino Vargas’ supposed new life and also the first day of his journey straight into hell, which he still wasn't aware of at that time.