Lovers who Uncover

“Like you said it's Down in the heat with the broken numbers Down in the gaze of solemnity Down in the way you've held together To try to hold on.” The Smashing Pumpkins - Try try try Still feeling the effect of the heroine, Antonio opened his eyes. Lovino was lying on his chest and gently running his fingers over the Spaniard’s arm with a blank stare, as if he was touching a bunch of unknown textures. Neither of them said a word, but speaking wasn’t really necessary, the silence made the atmosphere even more comforting. He hugged Lovino close, kissed his head and pressed his cheek against it, and the Italian just let him do as he wanted, without stopping his innocent caresses. “Lovi… it’s time to go, I have to go home,” Antonio said, realizing amidst his disastrous state that he had stayed away the entire night, even though he promised he wouldn’t take long… well, at least he tried. “Don’t go,” he heard Lovino slur. “I’ll come back as soon as I inform them that I’m still alive, I promise.” The Spaniard ran his fingers over the tousled hair of his partner, who made himself more comfortable on top of his body. “Last time you didn’t,” Lovino reminded him, seeming to be in the process of recovering from the drug. Antonio giggled nervously, kissed Lovino’s head for a second time and lifted the Italian’s face, cupping it into both hands, in order to see the other’s brown eyes that were trying to focus. “But this time, I will.” The Spaniard gave him a gentle kiss on the lips, with Lovino barely managing to kiss back. Then, the Italian rolled off him, allowing him to get up from the soft mattress. Lovino stayed lying there, while Antonio heaved himself to his feet, preparing himself mentally to face the consequences of his decision. “Antonio,” he heard Lovino call him and turned around, seeing the other stare at him. However, it wasn’t the lost gaze from a few seconds ago, but a look that could be described as menacing… bordering on coldness and almost on resentment. "If you don't come back, I won't forgive you this time," he threatened him, making the other swallow heavily and nod. Antonio then left for his home, thinking of what to say in order to evade the long lecture he would surely get from his mother... oh well, in reality he couldn't care less; at least not now that he had gone back together with Lovino and wasn't feeling dull anymore, but alive. He sincerely didn't feel any guilt nor remorse. In his case, Lovino's company and the drugs had managed to suppress these kinds of discomfort that sometimes arrives when you know that you have done something bad. They made him think that everything was great, that it was worth it, even breathing had started to feel good once again and not just a repetitive action of his body. And thinking that he had spent three weeks rotting in that soberness, lying to himself and joining that stupid game that never led to anything apart from a vicious cycle of bitterness, monotony, boredom and an unbearable feeling of emptiness. The Spaniard burst out laughing in the bus at that thought. It seemed as if he had suddenly forgotten why he had wanted to quit in the first place... it was nice like this, that self-induced amnesia was satisfying to him, because there was less drama that way, and he could live on as if that gap of almost twenty days had never happened. But no... apparently, the world he wanted to escape from was still going after him, insisting by all means that he should return to the photography of undisturbed happiness, on forcing him back into its frame and making him smile eternally, because as soon as he exited the bus, he immediately met Francis, who wasn't happy at all, judging by his face. "Where have you been the whole damn night?" the Frenchman questioned when he saw the other leave the bus. His voice was trembling from fury. "Oh... well, you see, Fran..." Antonio began, giggling nervously while looking around. Francis observed the reddened skin on his friend's eyelids and under his eyes, and heard Antonio's slurry way of speaking. His biggest fear had turned into reality. "Don't tell me... please don't tell me that you've been with Lovino," he said, gritting his teeth. The other laughed and shrugged. "I tried, Fran..." Antonio said as if it was an apology. "Are you an idiot or what!?" the Frenchman screamed, grabbed him by the clothes and smashed him against the wall. The other barely reacted. "Tell me what I have to do to finally make you realize, Antonio! How can I open these damn eyes of yours? Please tell me what the hell I have to do or say or show you for you to notice what you are doing to yourself! Just look at you! If you really wish to kill yourself so badly, then blow your brains out or hang yourself, but don't do that to us, don't force us to watch how you're slowly destroying yourself, because I swear... I really swear that I don't know whom you're fucking up faster... yourself or us." Francis' helplessness was marked in each of his words while he kept hitting Antonio against the wall and the other just letting him do it. “But I don’t wish to kill myself at all, Francis, it’s the completely opposite… I want to feel alive,” Antonio replied languidly, frustrating his friend even more, who clutched his clothes even tighter. “You can't call that life, for God’s sake…” Francis shook his head. "No... what I really can't call life was what I've been living until now, Fran. Everyone, including you, seems so happy and so content with it while I am always looking for something more, but am unable to find it, even though I try to fill that emptiness and be satisfied, I just can't, I always have to find something to not feel devoured by it. It's horrible to carry that hollow feeling inside every day as it is, but I always have to force myself to smile, too, as if it was a full-time job, in order to keep up that farce. And the worst is the knowledge that no one notices it, that... that no one realizes how hard I'm struggling to not be absorbed or trapped by that emptiness that's growing bigger and bigger. It scares me, Francis, it scares me to think that one day, I'll just be swallowed up by it and turn into a walking, smiling corpse, the mere thought that I'll have to spend week after week like that until I'll get buried, it terrifies me. But the most frightening thing is to notice that I already stopped having feelings a long time ago and that I don't even know anymore why I even get up every morning, why I eat, why I laugh... so I'm not sure whether my fears have already become reality." Antonio took Francis' hands that were still holding on to him. "But then Lovino came, and he's so different, so real, that just being with him brings me back to life and makes my heart beat again... he's the one I was looking for to fill my emptiness, he's the one I want to cling to, and if I'm not with him, I'm afraid the nothingness will eat me up for real and forever." The Spaniard squeezed his friend's hands. "You're the one, Francis, who has to realize that if I return to you, to Gilbert, to my family and the world in general, I'll just end up suffocating, and this time, there won't be anyone here to save me." Antonio's eloquence was almost scary. The seriousness of his tone... the fact that he was that ready to destroy himself. He slowly let go of Francis' hands to resume his way, but the Frenchman didn't care for all the deep speeches and excuses and grabbed him by the arm, pulling him towards himself, fuming. "No, you can't just leave! You owe us, Antonio, you owe me and Gilbert for all the time and the effort we spent on your recovery! And now pay us for everything we have done, don't leave us for Lovino until you have recompensed us!" he roared, panting and almost ripping the other's arm off. "Don't leave us for him... don't leave, otherwise I won't be able to bear the fact that I wasn't able to save my best friend." This time, it wasn't a command anymore, but rather a plea, a last attempt to save the one he almost considered his brother. Antonio let out a sigh, and his typical friendly smile appeared on his lips. “You don’t have to bear anything, this is my own decision,” he said, finally freeing himself from Francis, showed him one last smile of the ones he was so sick of but the others so used to, and just left, leaving him behind. If Antonio were still able to feel remorse and guilt, he would have run back and apologized to Francis just like the last time, when he had been trying to unite the remaining fragments of life into the painting of a beautiful landscape he had shattered with his lies, drugs, and the love he was feeling for Lovino, but he had already forgotten the meaning of these things, after the three weeks of abstinence that had been nothing more than an unnecessary torture. He could love his friends and family to death, but that love wasn't strong enough to keep living with something that was driving him insane. To smile as if a pair of invisible hooks were pulling up the corners of his mouth, to be happy as if someone was holding a gun against his neck 24/7, ready to shoot him if he were to show any other emotion. It was really maddening, and the people around him had already been infected with that madness, since they were seeing it as something normal. But Antonio still had a chance to escape, and he was going to use it. He resumed his way to his house where his mother was once again waiting for him with her eyes full of tears, wringing her hands from all the nerves and worries. His father got up from the couch the moment he saw him enter. “Where have you been?” his mother asked, while Antonio just walked past them without even a greeting. “Somewhere,” he replied, heading through the living room to the stairs in order to go to his room. “What kind of answer is that? Give us a good explanation. You don’t tell us where you go and don't even call to inform us that you are going to spend the night elsewhere. Yes, you may be an adult, but as long as you are still living under this roof, you…” his father said, making a pause in order to let out a snort and following his son, who was going upstairs without paying him the tiniest bit of attention. “Antonio, I’m talking to you!” Mr. Fernández spat and went up the stairs as well, seeing the latter take a few things from his room, including a bit of money. “I’m listening,” he lied, smiling briefly at him and went downstairs again, followed by his irritated father. “Then pay attention to what I’m saying. We were worried, your mother and I, we thought you were with Francis, as always, but he said he had no idea where you could be, either, none of your friends did. What if something had happened to you?” “But nothing happened in the end,” Antonio answered and took his keys again, finally facing his parents. “If the problem was me not telling you anything, then I’m going to do it now: I won't return tonight and can’t say when I will do it tomorrow, so don’t wait for me.” And with these words, he just left the house as if there hadn't been any lecture at all, while his parents were screaming for him to come back. But he didn't even turn around. His mother and father had the brief impression that the one they watched leaving wasn't their son. And just as promised, Antonio returned to Lovino, who seemed to have been waiting for him, while sitting on the floor and counting a bundle of banknotes. “I’m back,” Antonio announced. The other barely spared him a glance and then continued to count his money, a fact that the Spaniard didn't like at all. He kneeled down in front of the Italian, lowered the other's hands with his own and approached his face in order to kiss him, not wanting to be ignored so soon after their reconciliation. “Hey, wait,” Lovino asked between kisses, trying to evade him. Antonio, however, didn't listen to him. “You can do that later,” the Spaniard complained, still trying to capture the lips of his partner, who was forced to give him a light shove. Antonio snorted with frustration, as Lovino shoved him away in order to continue counting the money. He watched him for a while and eventually got a bit curious. “Where did you get so much money from?” he asked. Lovino merely shrugged. “From here and there… several places.” “No, seriously, Lovino, where did you get so much money from?” Antonio shot him a slightly strict look. Lovino looked back, but didn't answer. Thus, the Spaniard became suspicious. “Did you steal it?” he asked after almost a minute. Silence again. But, like they say: silence means consent. “Lovino, you…” “Don’t judge me, Antonio, don’t you dare judge me, because don’t forget that, unlike you, I don’t have a happy little family anymore, who would be willing to give me money… and I have to survive somehow. If you're going to condemn me for that, you know where the door is. Don't you forget,” Lovino protested, and then there was silence. Antonio shifted a few times in his seat and then gently took Lovino's hand into both of his own. “I’m not judging you… I just don’t want you to put yourself into danger,” he replied with worry, squeezing the other's cold hand. Hearing this, Lovino sat down on his calves and moved in front of Antonio, without freeing his hand. “Nothing’s going to happen to me, because I have you, right? You promised me last night to not let go of me ever again,” he said in an unusually soft tone that made Antonio's heart jump. Then Lovino moved even closer and pressed his forehead against the Spaniard's. “That's why you're going to accompany me, remember that we'll go together… even to hell itself.” The Italian's voice had lost its sweetness and was sounding like a threat once more. “Sure, but stealing’s not necessary, I still have money,” Antonio said, and Lovino abruptly let go of him, jumping to his feet and frowning. “It is. That bastard Feliks increases his damn prices more and more,” he grumbled, hiding the fact that not the prices had increased, but rather the doses he was consuming. “But still…” stammered the not really convinced Spaniard. Lovino let out a deep sigh. “Forget it… I won’t force you; I started this on my own and am able to continue it that way… alone, like always,” he said the last part quietly, turning his back to Antonio, who felt ashamed of his own cowardice and immediately stood up, facing Lovino. “No, you're not alone, Lovi, you know I’ll always be there by your side no matter where you’ll go and what you’ll do, don’t you ever doubt that.” He showed him a big smile. The Italian eyed him as if he was analyzing him, especially that smile, hoping that it wasn't one of these generic ones he was giving out to everyone. “And what if your friends and parents hear or suspect anything?” The Spaniard shook his head. “Don't worry about them, I don’t need them anymore…” he replied, not noticing just how cruel these simple words really were. And then hugged Lovino, stroking his head. “If I have you, that's all I need.” He squeezed the Italian's body, that had gotten a bit skinnier during these three weeks, even tighter. “Then let's go, Antonio… let's go to hell itself,” Lovino said, wrapping his thin arms around the Spaniard's hips and pressing his forehead against the other's lips this time, letting him kiss it. “Together,” the Spaniard added, running his hands over his partner’s cheeks, and it was as if he could feel the traces of the invisible tears Lovino had shed. Like rivers working their way through the earth until it adapts to their flow. He kissed his face, his eyes and also his lips, and then they left hand in hand, as if asserting their promise of never letting go of each other. As kids, we always have this idea that we will grow up to be good adults, an innocent image that we will turn into decent people, a person who has become “someone in life” like our parents say. We think about it and dream about our workplaces, our future families, the plans, and adventures awaiting us later, definitely not believing or even imagining that we can also sink low, walk with our feet full of the mud of a well’s bottom, do something doubtful nor have a rotten morality… that was the thought that flashed through Antonio’s mind at exactly that moment. While looking at the small pile of white powder on the back of his hand, he thought that it was a bit pathetic and also funny that he had never even dared to imagine that, one day, he would do drugs in a corner of some street at the other end of the town, planning to assault someone. But, oh well… no one could see the future. Having come to that conclusion, he inhaled the cocaine in one go and threw his head back, laughing. “I have to admit that I missed that, too,” he commented, closing his eyes and wiping his nose, holding back his urge to sneeze. “Let’s go,” Lovino commanded, not really paying any attention to his words and tugging at his sleeve. They started to go after a middle-aged man. It all looked perfectly normal, just three passersby walking calmly into the same direction. Maybe except for the fact that the two young men were approaching the third more and more. The latter noticed it eventually and also felt their looks from behind. The mister didn’t want to seem paranoiac, hence he just kept walking, perhaps a bit faster than he should, supposing that these two weren’t bad guys and would leave him in peace. But no. They accelerated their steps as well, which he noticed by shooting them sideways glances. Thus, he opted for crossing the street, but too late: they grabbed his coat and suddenly pulled him away. The man turned around, trying to free himself, however, as soon as he did that, the fist of the shorter guy hit him full in the face, and the two of them continued dragging him into an empty street corner where they also kicked him. “Your briefcase!” the first one yelled, and the other, the one with the green eyes, ripped it out of his hands, grabbing it by its strap. As the victim tried to struggle, he was kicked into his ribs once again and was forced to watch the thieves run away as if chased by the devil. “Don’t stop, don’t stop!” Lovino ordered, but Antonio was so scared that he wouldn’t have even thought of stopping, anyway. He was clutching the briefcase tightly and ran even faster, stimulated by the effect of the cocaine. Turning his head to the side, he checked whether Lovino was still with him, and yes, he was: Lovino was also running as fast as his legs could carry him. The fear vanished and was replaced by relief, even though they were still running, but nothing mattered as long as Lovino was there. The man’s frightened face, the blood flowing from his nose, his coat dirty from their kicks… all these images floated away when he listened to Lovino and his panting beside him as they fled together. They didn’t really know how many streets they had passed, but stopped when they got out of breath. Lovino basically ripped the suitcase out of his hands and started to desperately rummage through its contents, seeing various papers and some other useless stuff, until he finally found the man’s wallet, looking inside and discovering what he had been looking for. Antonio watched with slight surprise how something similar to a smile appeared on Lovino’s face. Then, the Italian put everything back and wrapped one of his arms around the Spaniard’s neck, kissing him fervently. Antonio didn’t know whether it was the cocaine, the adrenaline after having robbed somebody or simply because Lovino was happy and in love, but he wanted to believe that it was the last, kissing him back with the same euphoria. “By the way… don’t you have classes today?” the Italian asked, breathing raggedly, and separated himself a few centimeters from Antonio, who smiled and kissed him again. “Forget about them,” was everything he had to say, and they continued kissing while stumbling through the streets, not giving a single shit about the other people’s murmurs. That day was the first time Antonio committed robbery and also the day he decided to leave university and also his lifelong friends. The day he devoted himself entirely to Lovino. And now that he had dedicated his life to the Italian, they resumed the routine they had constructed on their own and headed to Feliks' house that was almost turning into something like a second home for them since they were visiting it even more often than his regular clients. Laughing like idiots, they were struggling to climb the spiral stairs, taking a break now and there to share a long kiss. "Hurry up, dumbass," Lovino said, almost pulling Antonio with him, who was walking behind him with his arms wrapped around the Italian's hips, as if hoping to be dragged along. "Hello, boys. What a coincidence to meet you here," they suddenly heard a voice and turned around, immediately pulling themselves together when they spotted Ivan going upstairs as well. The Russian was smiling as always and greeting them kindly. Lovino and Antonio merely looked at each other and greeted back with a bit of hesitation. Ivan just had something on him that didn't allow them to relax in his presence. It was really incredible that Feliks was able to have a sexual relationship with that man without batting an eye. "You have obviously come to see Feliks, so let's go together," Ivan said and walked the steps that separated him from the two boys in order to join them, even though they kept their distance from him and refrained from saying a word. Having finally arrived in front of the familiar apartment, Ivan knocked on the door, patiently and politely, unlike Lovino, who always seemed to wish to make it collapse when he arrived. Laughter could be heard from inside, mixed with some clumsy steps, as if someone was bumping into everything on their way. Several minutes later, Feliks opened the door. His hair was disheveled, and his clothes put on messily. "Wow, like, have you all agreed on visiting me together, or why are you here at the same time? Yeah, I know you must miss me so very badly, but still." He had some trouble speaking, being obviously on drugs. Even his gaze was blank. "You must think really highly of yourself if you think that someone would miss you," Lovino replied, automatically frowning as always. "Oh, that was cold, Lovi, my dear, but you're wrong, I'm sure that this gentleman here does miss me." Feliks pointed his index finger at Ivan, who was about to say something. But then, somebody came out of Feliks' bedroom. It was a disheveled, half-naked guy, clearly one of Feliks' clients, since he promptly hugged the latter from behind and started feeling him up and kissing his neck, not caring that there were others present. "And you're wrong as well, Feliks, I don't miss you... in fact, I couldn't care less about you," Ivan commented with a smile. The latter turned a bit more serious at that while reluctantly bearing that unnamed man's caresses, it was absolutely clear that he was struggling massively to endure them. Antonio and Lovino, in the meantime, felt like a third wheel, exactly like that lecherous client was. Feliks and Ivan were looking at each other, as if they were both speaking an incomprehensible language with their eyes. They were standing in front of one another as if waiting for the other to say or do something, to give a signal or something that would contradict Ivan's words. But that didn't happen. "That's too awkward," Antonio said finally, snapping the two of them finally out of their trance. Feliks somehow freed himself from his client's tentacles and commanded him to wait in the bedroom while he was attending the boys. In a still uncomfortable atmosphere, he then gave Lovino and Antonio what they had come for, after which they almost ran out of the appartment, wishing to leave that place as fast as possible. Ivan left Feliks some merchandise and intended to leave as well without saying a word. But before he could do that, he felt a tug at his long scarf, making him turn around to Feliks, who was stopping him. They dedicated another undecipherable look to each other, or at least so it seemed for their counterpart. "Don't say you don't care about me," Feliks finally spoke, approaching Ivan with a bit of hesitation. The other merely followed him with his gaze. "Just lie. I like lies," the dealer added with one of his cat-like smiles. "Your level of masochism surprises me every day," was everything Ivan answered, pulling at his scarf to make the other let go, and turned around once more. "Hey, Ivan-baby, don't be so cold, otherwise, you'll make me think that you're jealous," Feliks said, regaining his usual mood, like an act of self-defense... a carefree mask. "Yes, I see that you do like lies, if you even invent such nonsense," Ivan said, laughing, before he put his hand on the doorknob. "I'm not inventing anything, my love, your attitude shows it clearly." Feliks crossed his arms. "Unless you can prove me wrong." Ivan turned back to him with a strange smile on his lips and approached Feliks with his hands in his pockets. The latter didn't flinch. "I can't be jealous of someone who I know already belongs to me alone until the day I decide otherwise," Ivan commented, took one of his gloved hands out of his pocket and lifted Feliks' face by putting his fingers under the latter's chin, bending down a bit. It was a slow, unhurried kiss... you could even claim a pleasant and perhaps gentle one. One of those kisses, where you even hold your breath for a long time and then let it out with the same slowness the kiss is developing with. A passive kiss where the tips of their tongues barely touched, concentrating on the lips. Even though Feliks and Ivan were leading an exclusively carnal relationship, the times they kissed like that could be counted on one hand. Usually, they gave each other savage bites or forgot at all that they could kiss on the lips, so these kinds of gestures were completely unusual for them. When they finally pulled away, Feliks couldn't help running his tongue over his lower lip and looked at Ivan, who seemed satisfied. “Someone’s waiting for you,” the Russian reminded him, put his hands back into his pockets and headed to the door. Having crossed the doorstep and about to close the door, he saw Feliks lean his hands against the ramshackle table with a smile on his face. His green eyes were directed at him in a look of a brazen coquetry. “Goodbye, Ivan,” he said, and Ivan unceremoniously closed the door. People claim that they hate lies, but that doesn't have to be the truth. When lies turn into a source of relief and an addiction, then we stop despising them… and start needing them. Lies come in different types of shapes, not only as words, but also as kisses and caresses, or like a compact line of cocaine, a syringe with heroin inside, a marijuana joint and sometimes also in more ephemeral packages just as colors. They turn us into mythomaniacs and then into masochists. Consumers of lies, this was what Lovino and Antonio were turning into as well as they were sitting against the back wall of the apartment complex and staring with absent eyes at the sky, trying to catch the speckles of colors, the pieces of love, and the signs of life.