Genesis
Title: Genesis
Author/Artist: Hellzabeth
Characters and Pairing: Lovino, Feliciano, Chiara, Romulus, Antonio, Gabriel,
Rating: PG 13
Warnings: ANGST, Lovino's self-hate, death.
Blame: Myself?
Summary: Everything begins somewhere. Lovino's life, from childhood to the Hunters.
Lovino squeezed his eyes shut against the morning light. Too bright. It was the weekend, he wasn’t going to get up early. But the sun wouldn’t leave him alone. Just slipping through that gap in the curtains on the window. Grumpy at being woken up, he swung his legs out of bed and went to tug the curtains closed so he could go back to bed, when he noticed people moving outside.
“Ve, big brother, what’s going on...?” a sleepy Feliciano appeared at his side. “Are you getting up early...?” finally, his eyes gazed out the window. “Ahh! Grandpa! Grandpa Romulus is leaving!”
Lovino was running down the hallway before Feliciano had even finished his sentence. Internally, he cursed their house for having three flights of stairs from his room to the ground floor, but kept running. He was good at running, at least. He lept the last three steps, stumbling but catching himself last minute. The front door was open, his mother standing in the doorway watching grandpa walk towards the car. Lovino ran straight past her, jumped the front steps and ignored the pain when his bare feet hit the ground.
“Grandpa!”
But somehow, Feliciano got there first, running into Grandpa’s arms. The tall, well muscled man picked him up, swinging the 6 year old around with a laugh. Lovino stopped a few feet away.
That was right. No matter how fast he was, Feliciano was faster. No matter how hard he studied, Feliciano could recite the whole of Leviticus, and make it interesting too. Even if he opened up a pizzeria like his mama had, Feliciano would be the one on all the adverts, his cherubic little face the one they loved.
He was always better.
Even if Lovino had been born first.
“Lovi!” The boy’s head snapped up. Grandpa beckoned him over. “Are you crying because I’m going? It’s alright, I’ll come back. Come here and give your grandpa a hug.”
Lovino sniffed and wiped his nose. “I-I don’t need hugs, I’m too big for them!”
He suddenly found himself swept off the ground. His grandpa’s booming laugh echoed across the courtyard of the family home as he swung Lovino around. “You’re never too big for a hug from grandpa! If you’re seven or seventy, I’ve still got a big cuddle set aside for you!”
“Graaaandpaaaa!” Lovino whined, struggling, though it was all for show. He liked hugs. He stopped before grandpa actually thought he was serious, settling against his shoulder. Grandpa’s shirt was made of rough cotton, hardly suited for a man of his ranking in the military, but he’d never had a very good sense of style when it came to civilian clothing. Still... it smelled of warmth and spices and his shaving foam. “... promise you’ll come back.”
Grandpa sighed. “... I can’t promise that and you know it, Lovino.” he said lowly, so only Lovino could hear. “You have to be a big boy and look after your mama and brother, okay? Just remember I’m with you in spirit no matter what.”
Spirits didn’t give hugs. “... okay.” mumbled the young boy. Grandpa planted a kiss on the top of his head. The clacking of his mother’s heels approached, and she stood by them with Feliciano balanced on her hip.
“Come on boys, let your grandpa go.” she scolded lightly. “You’re delaying him and he’ll miss the train.” So she said, but her eyes looked at her father with concern and sadness, wishing he could stay. Lovino was put down on the ground, and he bit his lip so he wouldn’t cry.
“Hahaha, I see I’ve outstayed my welcome with your mother, boys.” laughed Grandpa, picking up a suitcase next to the car and throwing it in the back seat. “Alright, alright, I’ll go. Feli, don’t eat too much pasta while I’m gone, okay?”
“Awww grandpa...” Feliciano pouted, then seemed to have an idea. “Can I eat more ice cream instead?”
Grandpa chuckled and shook his head amusedly. He looked over at his daughter, Lovino’s mama, and smiled softly. “Don’t work yourself too hard, Chiara.”
Mama upturned her nose and huffed, flicking long brown hair over her shoulder. “I can take anything the world dishes out. You worry about yourself.”
“If I worried about myself I’d never be able to do my job so well!” Grandpa laughed, but quickly stopped when mama sent him a dark look. “Yes ma’am, whatever you say ma’am.”
As Lovino waved goodbye to the car rolling down the stony road and disappearing over the hills of the Italian countryside, he had to ignore the strange sinking feeling he got whenever his grandpa went out into the great unknown. Being in the military was dangerous, even if they weren’t in any wars at the moment.
Sometimes, he worried that he’d never see that car again.
------
Lovino had always known he was going to be a priest. It was something he had been assigned to be from the moment of his birth. The eldest child in the family joined the church; that was the way it had been for centuries, as long as their family had existed (and it had existed for a long, long time). One of them had even been Pope once, a long time back. So the eldest Vargas child sat in his room with his bible, pouring over Leviticus like his life depended on it, when all the other children, his little brother included, were out playing in the late spring sunshine.
A rock flew through his open window. Brown eyes watched it curiously, like it would move again. Another one clattered across the floor, and he went to the window, looking down into the street.
“Oh. Hola!” greeted a man Lovino was pretty sure he’d never seen before in his life. “I mean, ciao.” His hair was short and roughly cut, dark brown strands curling wildly. He grinned brightly, and his clothes looked like he’d dug them out of a charity bin.
“Who the heck are you?” Lovino asked grumpily, frowning down at the stranger. He could throw the rocks back if he said anything stupid.
“I didn’t know Romulus had a son.” the man, chirped brightly, ignoring the question. “You’re kind of cute.”
“Screw off!” Lovino flushed up to his ears. “Romulus is my grandpa, not my father! I’m his grandson!”
The man seemed surprised, olive green eyes going wide. “Really? Has it been that long already...” he trailed off pensively, hands on his hips and briefly looking back down at the ground. For some reason, Lovino got the feeling it was unusual for this weirdo to be so thoughtful. The phase was over quickly though, and soon the bright smile returned. “Anyway, is he in?”
“Why would you want to know?” It suddenly occurred to Lovino that this man could be a spy. He didn’t sound Italian. If anything he sounded Spanish, but he could be from anywhere. Grandpa was important in the military, and he might have come to get him!
“I’m a workmate of his! Well, sort of. We have the same job but we don’t work together. I work with my brother instead.”
Exactly the kind of lies a spy would tell.
“He’s not here!” Well, that was the truth. He wasn’t, he hadn’t been here for a month. “Now go away!” And with that, he slammed the shutters and then the window itself closed. His heart pounded as he moved away. What next? Would there be a gunshot? He was all alone in the house, with Feliciano out playing and mama gone to market...
After fifteen minutes of nothing happening, he crept over to the window and peered out through the slats. The street was empty. Nobody even driving on the cobblestone street, not a car or a moped or a bike. Just a cat sitting on one of the walls, lazily stretched out in the sun. Seemed that someone’s clothes had blown off the line too; half a trouser leg was sticking out of the bushes. Shrugging one shoulder, Lovino went back to his bible, eyes landing on the page he had open.
Do onto others, as you would have them do onto you.
“Loviiiii!” Came Feliciano’s wail from downstairs. “Loviiiii! I fell and hurt my kneeeee!”
Grumbling, the elder brother pushed off the bed, and went downstairs.
----
Lovino stared at his Latin homework with contempt. He knew this stuff. He’d known this stuff for years. He didn’t see the point in practicing this vocab again, or this grammar module. Grandpa had a funny sort of passion for Latin, even going as far as to speak it around the house. If Lovino kept failing at his homework, it didn’t mean he was stupid. This was just too boring.
Feliciano could fail all the tests he wanted, and he’d still be the most popular kid in school.
But he wasn’t the one studying to go to Collegio Romano. Lovino was, and he could at least hold that away from his brother. His stupid, smiling brother, who everyone so adored. He was aware of his own jealousy. Who wouldn’t be jealous of a brother like that? Lovino didn’t have much by way of friends. Mostly he read on his own in the playground, or played with the calico cat that seemed to live in the area and wandered through the fence every lunch time. He fed it one of his sandwiches until a teacher scolded him for it. After that, he just passed it bits of tomato instead. Oddly, it seemed to like it.
The doorbell downstairs rang, jogging him out of his revere. He got up from his desk and went to go answer it, but got as far as the stairs before he heard mama open it instead.
“Yes?”
“Mrs Chiara Vargas?” said a strange voice. He didn’t recognise it. “I’m Gabriel dos Anjos. I work with your father.”
He heard his mother draw in a shaky breath. “What’s happened.”
“... you should probably sit down.”
Lovino carefully and quietly followed them as they disappeared into the kitchen, peeking round the corner of the doorway to look at the visitor’s face. He was suddenly reminded of the man from years ago, who had thrown stones at his window. But he was different, slightly. Maybe it was the same person, but older? He seemed much less cheerful this time.
Mama’s hands were already shaking when the gripped the edge of the table to help herself into her seat. Gabriel sat opposite her. There was silence for a long moment, before mama collapsed into tears. Nobody had even said anything.
“... I’m sorry.” Gabriel finally spoke, voice low. “He was going to help a comrade, when they got him in the head. It was quick, probably painless. He managed to turn the tide of the fight in our favour... he died a hero’s death.”
Chiara Vargas buried her face in her arms and wept. Lovino couldn’t bring any tears forth, though. They were frozen, shocked still with the rest of him. He couldn’t even breathe.
Dead?
Grandpa... was dead?
---
The day of the funeral was sunny and bright. Birds were singing in the sky. Lovino wanted to shoot them all down. They had no right to be that happy on a day like this.
It felt like Feliciano hadn’t stopped crying since he’d heard the news. By this point, Lovino wanted to shoot him too. Stupid crybaby brother. Lovino and mama had run out of tears a while ago.
There had been no open casket. Nobody would want to see what was left of Grandpa’s face anyway. Lovino’s stomach turned at the image his all too vivid imagination brought to mind. He had to keep it together. For mama’s sake. Even for Feliciano’s sake.
Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori.
Lovino stared at the gravestone’s inscription for a long time after the rest of the mourners had left. Most of them Lovino didn’t even know, and there had been an awfully large number of them that had just been “work colleagues”. Grandpa had been big in the army, but he’d never guessed that big. His eye didn’t miss the insignia they all seemed to wear somewhere on their clothes, a buckle or a patch or a broach. The same symbol was on the tombstone, just above Grandpa’s full name (he’d never known his middle name was Marco) and the inscription.
Someone’s footsteps came up behind him, but he didn’t look up. They stopped just behind him, and a voice, hesitantly, spoke up. “... Lovino?”
The boy in question finally looked round, eyes going wide when he came face to face with the man from all those years ago. The man who threw rocks at his window with a cheery disposition. The spy.
He jumped back and nearly landed on Grandpa’s grave. “Go away!” he shouted, voice cracking unsteadily with fear. The spy put his hands up.
“Woah, woah, easy, calm down. I just came to see if you were alright...” he said, making calming motions. Lovino narrowed his eyes at him.
“Why do you care?” he muttered.
The man looked sincerely shocked. “Why wouldn’t I care? You’re the grandson of a very close friend of mine. You’re also a person who has just lost someone very close to them. I’m not a heartless monster.” He almost sounded wounded at the implication, even though they were his words, not Lovino’s.
“If you were really his friend, you would have shown up earlier with the rest of them.” Lovino accused. The man suddenly looked uncomfortable.
“I... got delayed.” he admitted, scratching the back of his neck. “My brother got here - Gabriel, you remember him - but I had something holding me back.”
“Cowardice?”
“Hey.” Anger. It was quite a sudden change, and Lovino almost took another step back. “I like you, Lovi, I really do. But you shouldn’t go flinging words like that around, especially if you don’t know people.” The tone was scolding, but his eyes burned. “Especially people who wear this.” he indicated the lapel of his jacket, which clearly had the same emblem emblazoned on it as Grandpa’s tomb. “You can’t wear this and be a coward. The two things don’t mix well.”
Lovino didn’t say anything for a long while. “... who are you?”
The man’s demeanor relaxed a little, and the anger faded. “Antonio. I’d ask you the same, but I’ve known you for a while already.” He smiled, bright and cheery as the summer itself. “Did Romulus ever tell you what he did for work?”
The sudden change surprised Lovino so much that he replied honestly. “Army. He was in the army. That’s why he’s dead.”
“Hm, I guess you could call it an army.” Antonio said, looking thoughtful. “An army of God, is probably more like it.” He fiddled with the crucifix around his neck. It looked oddly like a choker, or a collar, with the cross dangling off it. It looked familiar somehow. But Lovino wasn’t paying attention to that.
“What the heck are you talking about?” he frowned. The Spaniard shrugged.
“Well, Romulus is dead, and you’re the next Vargas in line to join up, so I figured he’d have told you, but maybe he didn’t get round to that in time.”
“I’m not joining the army.” this conversation was confusing. “I’m joining the clergy. I’m going to be a priest of the Catholic church.”
“God’s army.” Antonio said again, nodding at Lovino’s every word. “Which is all well and good, but I can’t see you holding a sword. Too small and cute.”
“I’m not cute!” Lovino snapped back, before absorbing the rest of the sentence. “Why would I need a sword?”
“Haha, true, true, I use a halberd myself, when I can.” Antonio chuckled, sticking his hands in his pockets and leaning against an old, mossy tombstone.
“You’re an idiot.” Lovino concluded, looking down his nose at him. “And you’re probably insane. They let anyone in the army these days.” Antonio just laughed at him again.
“You have no idea.”
---
“And then he just goes and vanishes! Walks off to the end of the graveyard, goes behind a tree and, suddenly, he’s freaking gone!” Lovino ranted, gesturing wildly. “He goes on to me about all this Army of God bullshit and then he teleports away like some sort of witch!”
The calico cat meowed at him, wide green eyes that always seemed to understand Lovino watching his hands with interest. The cat, that Lovino had named Boss, had become his only friend. The loss of his grandpa made Lovino particularly grouchy, to the point where none of the kids came near him any more. Well, apart from to steal his lunch money.
“... hey, Boss, you don’t think he really was a witch, do you?” He’d pissed him off a bit during their conversation. Was he going to get cursed? The cat butted it’s head into Lovino’s hand, meowing again. The boy scratched behind it’s ears. “Yeah, you’re right, that’s stupid. There’s no such thing as witches. I’m being stupid. Though he’s stupider. That Antonio.”
Meowing reproachfully, Boss jumped up and into Lovino’s lap, almost making him fall off the small wall where he was sitting for lunch. “Watch it!” he scolded, but it didn’t have much fire to it. The cat was purring now, appreciating the stroking. Lovino sighed. “Geez. This is pathetic. I’m talking to a cat about my personal problems and expecting a response. I must be crazy.” He looked up and saw the others in the playground staring at him, though they averted their gaze quickly once he caught them looking. “... seems like the rest of the world thinks so already.”
---
The first time Lovino visited the Vatican, he left at the end of the day with a crick in his neck. But he couldn’t help it. He was compelled to look skyward, to gaze at the gold and intricate paintings on the ceilings, the depictions of heaven so out of reach from mortal man without the forgiveness of a loving God. He wanted to touch the clouds, see the face of the Almighty, sing glory to the highest for the rest of his days.
He knew instantly what he had to do.
Lovino studied so intensely it was difficult to separate him from his bible, or his additional texts. He read every scripture, all the philosophical books required, he memorised passages and made himself fluent in Latin to the nth degree. Years and years went by, and he clawed his way along the ground, up the sheer cliff to try and attain what he wanted, what he needed to do with his life.
He wanted to see that place every day. He wanted to bask in the beauty of art inspired by the Lord. If he couldn’t make it, like Feliciano could, he would at least learn it.
His entrance into Collegio Romano could not have come fast enough. As it was, he was nearly the youngest member there. His classmates wondered not so quietly if someone had pulled strings. He didn’t care. He was going places. He was going to reach his dream.
But for every stroke of good luck, there would be a stroke of bad.
He was in the study hall when someone came and tapped him on the shoulder. An elderly cardinal with a grave expression motioned him to follow, and they left the room in silence. It continued until they arrived at the college’s head office. Lovino sat down in a chair, and braced himself.
“Your brother is missing.”
---
Mama was inconsolable.
No matter how many clues the police found, or rumoured spottings people reported, there was nothing to be found of the youngest Vargas. His ski instructor said he’d wandered off to find a cafe, but had never reached his destination. Though a search party had been sent out that night, nothing was found then either. Eventally, the police closed the file on Feliciano Vargas, concluding they’d probably find him in the spring, once the snow melted.
Now all Chiara Vargas did was sit and stare out the front window of their house. Her hair had strands of grey in it that had never been there before, and she wouldn’t respond to anything but news of Feliciano. Lovino did his best to care for her and keep up with his studies, and often came home to cook meals for her.
“Mama?” Lovino called one evening from the kitchen. “Mama, I made some spaghetti carbonara...”
Nothing.
He set the plate down on the table next to her chair, moving a newspaper out of the way. Feliciano’s beaming face stared back at him. Lovino couldn’t smile like that. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t put the same thoughtless joy into his expressions. Not when life had decided to throw this at him. He couldn’t cheer mama up. He was doing well in his studies, but not well enough.
He wasn’t Feliciano.
He would never be able to replace Feliciano.
So mama would stay broken and staring out the window forever.
And whenever she did a double take on seeing him, he would have to keep saying “sorry, I’m not Feliciano”. Forever.
Sorry, I’m not Feliciano.
Sorry, I’m not good enough.
Sorry, I’m just Lovino Vargas.
---
He was just walking out of the graduation ceremony when he nearly bumped into someone.
“Watch where you’re- geh!” he nearly jumped back and into a wall when he saw who it was. Antonio, the same as ever, was grinning down at him, hands on hips. “Wh-what are you doing here?!”
“Well, I was watching you graduate! Congratulations!” he raised his hand for a high five. Lovino just stared at him, deadpan. Shrugging, he instead went for a massive bear hug. Lovino squeaked and squirmed in the surprisingly tough grip.
“GET OFF ME!” People were staring. Goddamn, people were staring. Finally, Antonio let go, and Lovino tried to straighten out his clothes and regain what dignity he’d just lost. Apparently, this display was hilarious, because Antonio cracked up laughing. “You shouldn’t hug a priest, damnit!”
“Oh yeah, you’re properly ordained now. And still so young and cute~!” he cried, letting out a long cooing sound that was something like “buhyooooo~”. He stopped and looked thoughtful again. “It’s going to be weird calling you boss and not the other way around.”
Once Lovino had finished an inner rant about how he was too old to be “cute”, he asked. “Why would you call me boss? You work for the army, not the church.”
Antonio grinned. “God’s army. I work for the church, and I work for the army of the church, and I also work for my brother. I’m a busy kind of guy.”
Lovino gaped at him for a long time. “That’s impossible. You’re insane, and I don’t know why I talk to you ever.” He turned on his heel and started walking down the corridor.
Antonio watched him go, and then called after him. “Who else would you talk to?”
The newly ordained priest stopped, clenching his fists. “My friends!” he shouted back.
Antonio raised his eyebrows at him. Lovino felt a blush race over his face.
“Shut up!” he snapped.
“I didn’t say anything.”
“I hate you!”
“You’re not allowed to. You’re a priest, now remember? Don’t hate the sinner, hate the sin.”
Lovino let out a cry of frustration and marched back to where Antonio stood. “Look, if you don’t give me a straight answer right now I am going to get you excommunicated, so help me God. Now you tell me exactly what you want with me, who you really work for, and why you won’t just leave me alone.” he snarled. Antonio stared at him, seeming almost impressed.
“Okay, uh, in reverse order, because I like you, the Hunters, and I’m trying to show you to your new office, Cardinal Vargas.”
“Cardi- I’m not a Cardinal yet.” was all Lovino could say to that. Hunters?
“Do you have to argue about everything? It kind of detracts from your cuteness.” Antonio sighed wearily. “Just follow me okay? And if you lose me, just follow the cat the rest of the way.”
“... what.”
---
Why was he following this lunatic? Much less through all these narrow back passages that you would need to be a cat to get through comfortably. Luckily Lovino was thin and spindly enough to squeeze through; God only knew how Antonio was managing it. He kept jabbering as he went.
“But if you join up, you get an instant promotion to cardinal just to give you the authority over everyone. Our current cardinal is getting a bit old for the job - don’t think you can mess with him though, he’ll kick your ass - and I guess they thought who better to replace him than a relative of Romulus himself?” he chatted, supposedly to Lovino though he didn’t wait for much of a response from him before continuing. “Though Romulus was more of a fighter than a planner, he was pretty good at both. Without him, though, we’re kind of scarce in the planning department. So we’ve got you!” He grinned like a Cheshire cat over his shoulder.
“You’re still not making any sense, idiot.” Lovino told him in no uncertain terms. Antonio just laughed.
“You’ll get it soon enough.” he suddenly stopped in front of a large, wall-length picture of Jesus. “Umm, what was the Latin version of Luke 11:9...”
“Ecce sto ad ostium, et pulso: si quis audierit vocem meam, et aperuerit mihi ianuam, intrabo ad illum, et cœnabo cum illo, et ipse mecum.” Lovino rattled off, only half paying attention to what he was saying. There was something not right about the eyes on this painting.
They blinked.
Before he had time to scream, the painting swung forward, revealing a man. He looked once at Lovino, and then at Antonio. A smile spread, recognition sparking. “Oh, good afternoon, Antonio, sir.”
“Buenos dias! I’m bringing Lovi-, ah, soon to be Cardinal Vargas, on his first tour. Can we come in?” he asked brightly. The man, clearly a guard, nodded.
“Certainly. Feel free.” And he stepped to the side. Antonio started descending the stairs. Lovino regarded the staircase with some suspicion. It seemed to be going down into the ground, much deeper than he particularly wanted to go. Antonio stopped, looking back at him questioningly.
“You alright, Lovi?” he asked, then smiled. “You don’t need to be scared, it’s not dark at all down here, we have lots of lights.”
“I’m not scared!” Lovino snapped, striding past the guard and down the stairs, trying not to shiver when the door closed behind them. “Just get going or whatever, stupid...”
The stairs seemed to descend forever, and Lovino wondered if he was being lead to the centre of the earth. Down to hell? Ironic, since he’d just been ordained. The lights on the walls flickered occasionally, and the whole thing looked like every underground passage in every horror movie Lovino had had the misfortune to witness (he didn’t like them at all). Something was going to jump out at them, he knew it. Without noticing, he’d pressed himself closer to Antonio than he would have normally, but this place was scaring him, no matter what he said.
“Protect me, you bastard.” he muttered. Antonio looked down at him, but didn’t say anything to that.
Lovino nearly tripped when the stairs stopped abruptly, smoothing out into flat ground. Looking up, there was a large wooden door. Antonio was right, it was well lit down here. He could see all the engravings and markings on it... as well as a few instances of graffiti.
“Okay Lovi, here it is, Hunter HQ.” Antonio said, smiling at the little priest. “Don’t yell or do anything sudden, okay?”
“What kind of warning is that?”
“A good one.” The older man replied, and then opened the door.
Notes:
- Collegio Romano is a college in Rome (duh) closely associated by the Vatican. It is EXTREMELY prestigious, and yes, a lot of strings were pulled to get Lovino in there, especially so young.
- No, Lovino still doesn't know that Antonio = Boss cat.
Author/Artist: Hellzabeth
Characters and Pairing: Lovino, Feliciano, Chiara, Romulus, Antonio, Gabriel,
Rating: PG 13
Warnings: ANGST, Lovino's self-hate, death.
Blame: Myself?
Summary: Everything begins somewhere. Lovino's life, from childhood to the Hunters.
Lovino squeezed his eyes shut against the morning light. Too bright. It was the weekend, he wasn’t going to get up early. But the sun wouldn’t leave him alone. Just slipping through that gap in the curtains on the window. Grumpy at being woken up, he swung his legs out of bed and went to tug the curtains closed so he could go back to bed, when he noticed people moving outside.
“Ve, big brother, what’s going on...?” a sleepy Feliciano appeared at his side. “Are you getting up early...?” finally, his eyes gazed out the window. “Ahh! Grandpa! Grandpa Romulus is leaving!”
Lovino was running down the hallway before Feliciano had even finished his sentence. Internally, he cursed their house for having three flights of stairs from his room to the ground floor, but kept running. He was good at running, at least. He lept the last three steps, stumbling but catching himself last minute. The front door was open, his mother standing in the doorway watching grandpa walk towards the car. Lovino ran straight past her, jumped the front steps and ignored the pain when his bare feet hit the ground.
“Grandpa!”
But somehow, Feliciano got there first, running into Grandpa’s arms. The tall, well muscled man picked him up, swinging the 6 year old around with a laugh. Lovino stopped a few feet away.
That was right. No matter how fast he was, Feliciano was faster. No matter how hard he studied, Feliciano could recite the whole of Leviticus, and make it interesting too. Even if he opened up a pizzeria like his mama had, Feliciano would be the one on all the adverts, his cherubic little face the one they loved.
He was always better.
Even if Lovino had been born first.
“Lovi!” The boy’s head snapped up. Grandpa beckoned him over. “Are you crying because I’m going? It’s alright, I’ll come back. Come here and give your grandpa a hug.”
Lovino sniffed and wiped his nose. “I-I don’t need hugs, I’m too big for them!”
He suddenly found himself swept off the ground. His grandpa’s booming laugh echoed across the courtyard of the family home as he swung Lovino around. “You’re never too big for a hug from grandpa! If you’re seven or seventy, I’ve still got a big cuddle set aside for you!”
“Graaaandpaaaa!” Lovino whined, struggling, though it was all for show. He liked hugs. He stopped before grandpa actually thought he was serious, settling against his shoulder. Grandpa’s shirt was made of rough cotton, hardly suited for a man of his ranking in the military, but he’d never had a very good sense of style when it came to civilian clothing. Still... it smelled of warmth and spices and his shaving foam. “... promise you’ll come back.”
Grandpa sighed. “... I can’t promise that and you know it, Lovino.” he said lowly, so only Lovino could hear. “You have to be a big boy and look after your mama and brother, okay? Just remember I’m with you in spirit no matter what.”
Spirits didn’t give hugs. “... okay.” mumbled the young boy. Grandpa planted a kiss on the top of his head. The clacking of his mother’s heels approached, and she stood by them with Feliciano balanced on her hip.
“Come on boys, let your grandpa go.” she scolded lightly. “You’re delaying him and he’ll miss the train.” So she said, but her eyes looked at her father with concern and sadness, wishing he could stay. Lovino was put down on the ground, and he bit his lip so he wouldn’t cry.
“Hahaha, I see I’ve outstayed my welcome with your mother, boys.” laughed Grandpa, picking up a suitcase next to the car and throwing it in the back seat. “Alright, alright, I’ll go. Feli, don’t eat too much pasta while I’m gone, okay?”
“Awww grandpa...” Feliciano pouted, then seemed to have an idea. “Can I eat more ice cream instead?”
Grandpa chuckled and shook his head amusedly. He looked over at his daughter, Lovino’s mama, and smiled softly. “Don’t work yourself too hard, Chiara.”
Mama upturned her nose and huffed, flicking long brown hair over her shoulder. “I can take anything the world dishes out. You worry about yourself.”
“If I worried about myself I’d never be able to do my job so well!” Grandpa laughed, but quickly stopped when mama sent him a dark look. “Yes ma’am, whatever you say ma’am.”
As Lovino waved goodbye to the car rolling down the stony road and disappearing over the hills of the Italian countryside, he had to ignore the strange sinking feeling he got whenever his grandpa went out into the great unknown. Being in the military was dangerous, even if they weren’t in any wars at the moment.
Sometimes, he worried that he’d never see that car again.
------
Lovino had always known he was going to be a priest. It was something he had been assigned to be from the moment of his birth. The eldest child in the family joined the church; that was the way it had been for centuries, as long as their family had existed (and it had existed for a long, long time). One of them had even been Pope once, a long time back. So the eldest Vargas child sat in his room with his bible, pouring over Leviticus like his life depended on it, when all the other children, his little brother included, were out playing in the late spring sunshine.
A rock flew through his open window. Brown eyes watched it curiously, like it would move again. Another one clattered across the floor, and he went to the window, looking down into the street.
“Oh. Hola!” greeted a man Lovino was pretty sure he’d never seen before in his life. “I mean, ciao.” His hair was short and roughly cut, dark brown strands curling wildly. He grinned brightly, and his clothes looked like he’d dug them out of a charity bin.
“Who the heck are you?” Lovino asked grumpily, frowning down at the stranger. He could throw the rocks back if he said anything stupid.
“I didn’t know Romulus had a son.” the man, chirped brightly, ignoring the question. “You’re kind of cute.”
“Screw off!” Lovino flushed up to his ears. “Romulus is my grandpa, not my father! I’m his grandson!”
The man seemed surprised, olive green eyes going wide. “Really? Has it been that long already...” he trailed off pensively, hands on his hips and briefly looking back down at the ground. For some reason, Lovino got the feeling it was unusual for this weirdo to be so thoughtful. The phase was over quickly though, and soon the bright smile returned. “Anyway, is he in?”
“Why would you want to know?” It suddenly occurred to Lovino that this man could be a spy. He didn’t sound Italian. If anything he sounded Spanish, but he could be from anywhere. Grandpa was important in the military, and he might have come to get him!
“I’m a workmate of his! Well, sort of. We have the same job but we don’t work together. I work with my brother instead.”
Exactly the kind of lies a spy would tell.
“He’s not here!” Well, that was the truth. He wasn’t, he hadn’t been here for a month. “Now go away!” And with that, he slammed the shutters and then the window itself closed. His heart pounded as he moved away. What next? Would there be a gunshot? He was all alone in the house, with Feliciano out playing and mama gone to market...
After fifteen minutes of nothing happening, he crept over to the window and peered out through the slats. The street was empty. Nobody even driving on the cobblestone street, not a car or a moped or a bike. Just a cat sitting on one of the walls, lazily stretched out in the sun. Seemed that someone’s clothes had blown off the line too; half a trouser leg was sticking out of the bushes. Shrugging one shoulder, Lovino went back to his bible, eyes landing on the page he had open.
Do onto others, as you would have them do onto you.
“Loviiiii!” Came Feliciano’s wail from downstairs. “Loviiiii! I fell and hurt my kneeeee!”
Grumbling, the elder brother pushed off the bed, and went downstairs.
----
Lovino stared at his Latin homework with contempt. He knew this stuff. He’d known this stuff for years. He didn’t see the point in practicing this vocab again, or this grammar module. Grandpa had a funny sort of passion for Latin, even going as far as to speak it around the house. If Lovino kept failing at his homework, it didn’t mean he was stupid. This was just too boring.
Feliciano could fail all the tests he wanted, and he’d still be the most popular kid in school.
But he wasn’t the one studying to go to Collegio Romano. Lovino was, and he could at least hold that away from his brother. His stupid, smiling brother, who everyone so adored. He was aware of his own jealousy. Who wouldn’t be jealous of a brother like that? Lovino didn’t have much by way of friends. Mostly he read on his own in the playground, or played with the calico cat that seemed to live in the area and wandered through the fence every lunch time. He fed it one of his sandwiches until a teacher scolded him for it. After that, he just passed it bits of tomato instead. Oddly, it seemed to like it.
The doorbell downstairs rang, jogging him out of his revere. He got up from his desk and went to go answer it, but got as far as the stairs before he heard mama open it instead.
“Yes?”
“Mrs Chiara Vargas?” said a strange voice. He didn’t recognise it. “I’m Gabriel dos Anjos. I work with your father.”
He heard his mother draw in a shaky breath. “What’s happened.”
“... you should probably sit down.”
Lovino carefully and quietly followed them as they disappeared into the kitchen, peeking round the corner of the doorway to look at the visitor’s face. He was suddenly reminded of the man from years ago, who had thrown stones at his window. But he was different, slightly. Maybe it was the same person, but older? He seemed much less cheerful this time.
Mama’s hands were already shaking when the gripped the edge of the table to help herself into her seat. Gabriel sat opposite her. There was silence for a long moment, before mama collapsed into tears. Nobody had even said anything.
“... I’m sorry.” Gabriel finally spoke, voice low. “He was going to help a comrade, when they got him in the head. It was quick, probably painless. He managed to turn the tide of the fight in our favour... he died a hero’s death.”
Chiara Vargas buried her face in her arms and wept. Lovino couldn’t bring any tears forth, though. They were frozen, shocked still with the rest of him. He couldn’t even breathe.
Dead?
Grandpa... was dead?
---
The day of the funeral was sunny and bright. Birds were singing in the sky. Lovino wanted to shoot them all down. They had no right to be that happy on a day like this.
It felt like Feliciano hadn’t stopped crying since he’d heard the news. By this point, Lovino wanted to shoot him too. Stupid crybaby brother. Lovino and mama had run out of tears a while ago.
There had been no open casket. Nobody would want to see what was left of Grandpa’s face anyway. Lovino’s stomach turned at the image his all too vivid imagination brought to mind. He had to keep it together. For mama’s sake. Even for Feliciano’s sake.
Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori.
Lovino stared at the gravestone’s inscription for a long time after the rest of the mourners had left. Most of them Lovino didn’t even know, and there had been an awfully large number of them that had just been “work colleagues”. Grandpa had been big in the army, but he’d never guessed that big. His eye didn’t miss the insignia they all seemed to wear somewhere on their clothes, a buckle or a patch or a broach. The same symbol was on the tombstone, just above Grandpa’s full name (he’d never known his middle name was Marco) and the inscription.
Someone’s footsteps came up behind him, but he didn’t look up. They stopped just behind him, and a voice, hesitantly, spoke up. “... Lovino?”
The boy in question finally looked round, eyes going wide when he came face to face with the man from all those years ago. The man who threw rocks at his window with a cheery disposition. The spy.
He jumped back and nearly landed on Grandpa’s grave. “Go away!” he shouted, voice cracking unsteadily with fear. The spy put his hands up.
“Woah, woah, easy, calm down. I just came to see if you were alright...” he said, making calming motions. Lovino narrowed his eyes at him.
“Why do you care?” he muttered.
The man looked sincerely shocked. “Why wouldn’t I care? You’re the grandson of a very close friend of mine. You’re also a person who has just lost someone very close to them. I’m not a heartless monster.” He almost sounded wounded at the implication, even though they were his words, not Lovino’s.
“If you were really his friend, you would have shown up earlier with the rest of them.” Lovino accused. The man suddenly looked uncomfortable.
“I... got delayed.” he admitted, scratching the back of his neck. “My brother got here - Gabriel, you remember him - but I had something holding me back.”
“Cowardice?”
“Hey.” Anger. It was quite a sudden change, and Lovino almost took another step back. “I like you, Lovi, I really do. But you shouldn’t go flinging words like that around, especially if you don’t know people.” The tone was scolding, but his eyes burned. “Especially people who wear this.” he indicated the lapel of his jacket, which clearly had the same emblem emblazoned on it as Grandpa’s tomb. “You can’t wear this and be a coward. The two things don’t mix well.”
Lovino didn’t say anything for a long while. “... who are you?”
The man’s demeanor relaxed a little, and the anger faded. “Antonio. I’d ask you the same, but I’ve known you for a while already.” He smiled, bright and cheery as the summer itself. “Did Romulus ever tell you what he did for work?”
The sudden change surprised Lovino so much that he replied honestly. “Army. He was in the army. That’s why he’s dead.”
“Hm, I guess you could call it an army.” Antonio said, looking thoughtful. “An army of God, is probably more like it.” He fiddled with the crucifix around his neck. It looked oddly like a choker, or a collar, with the cross dangling off it. It looked familiar somehow. But Lovino wasn’t paying attention to that.
“What the heck are you talking about?” he frowned. The Spaniard shrugged.
“Well, Romulus is dead, and you’re the next Vargas in line to join up, so I figured he’d have told you, but maybe he didn’t get round to that in time.”
“I’m not joining the army.” this conversation was confusing. “I’m joining the clergy. I’m going to be a priest of the Catholic church.”
“God’s army.” Antonio said again, nodding at Lovino’s every word. “Which is all well and good, but I can’t see you holding a sword. Too small and cute.”
“I’m not cute!” Lovino snapped back, before absorbing the rest of the sentence. “Why would I need a sword?”
“Haha, true, true, I use a halberd myself, when I can.” Antonio chuckled, sticking his hands in his pockets and leaning against an old, mossy tombstone.
“You’re an idiot.” Lovino concluded, looking down his nose at him. “And you’re probably insane. They let anyone in the army these days.” Antonio just laughed at him again.
“You have no idea.”
---
“And then he just goes and vanishes! Walks off to the end of the graveyard, goes behind a tree and, suddenly, he’s freaking gone!” Lovino ranted, gesturing wildly. “He goes on to me about all this Army of God bullshit and then he teleports away like some sort of witch!”
The calico cat meowed at him, wide green eyes that always seemed to understand Lovino watching his hands with interest. The cat, that Lovino had named Boss, had become his only friend. The loss of his grandpa made Lovino particularly grouchy, to the point where none of the kids came near him any more. Well, apart from to steal his lunch money.
“... hey, Boss, you don’t think he really was a witch, do you?” He’d pissed him off a bit during their conversation. Was he going to get cursed? The cat butted it’s head into Lovino’s hand, meowing again. The boy scratched behind it’s ears. “Yeah, you’re right, that’s stupid. There’s no such thing as witches. I’m being stupid. Though he’s stupider. That Antonio.”
Meowing reproachfully, Boss jumped up and into Lovino’s lap, almost making him fall off the small wall where he was sitting for lunch. “Watch it!” he scolded, but it didn’t have much fire to it. The cat was purring now, appreciating the stroking. Lovino sighed. “Geez. This is pathetic. I’m talking to a cat about my personal problems and expecting a response. I must be crazy.” He looked up and saw the others in the playground staring at him, though they averted their gaze quickly once he caught them looking. “... seems like the rest of the world thinks so already.”
---
The first time Lovino visited the Vatican, he left at the end of the day with a crick in his neck. But he couldn’t help it. He was compelled to look skyward, to gaze at the gold and intricate paintings on the ceilings, the depictions of heaven so out of reach from mortal man without the forgiveness of a loving God. He wanted to touch the clouds, see the face of the Almighty, sing glory to the highest for the rest of his days.
He knew instantly what he had to do.
Lovino studied so intensely it was difficult to separate him from his bible, or his additional texts. He read every scripture, all the philosophical books required, he memorised passages and made himself fluent in Latin to the nth degree. Years and years went by, and he clawed his way along the ground, up the sheer cliff to try and attain what he wanted, what he needed to do with his life.
He wanted to see that place every day. He wanted to bask in the beauty of art inspired by the Lord. If he couldn’t make it, like Feliciano could, he would at least learn it.
His entrance into Collegio Romano could not have come fast enough. As it was, he was nearly the youngest member there. His classmates wondered not so quietly if someone had pulled strings. He didn’t care. He was going places. He was going to reach his dream.
But for every stroke of good luck, there would be a stroke of bad.
He was in the study hall when someone came and tapped him on the shoulder. An elderly cardinal with a grave expression motioned him to follow, and they left the room in silence. It continued until they arrived at the college’s head office. Lovino sat down in a chair, and braced himself.
“Your brother is missing.”
---
Mama was inconsolable.
No matter how many clues the police found, or rumoured spottings people reported, there was nothing to be found of the youngest Vargas. His ski instructor said he’d wandered off to find a cafe, but had never reached his destination. Though a search party had been sent out that night, nothing was found then either. Eventally, the police closed the file on Feliciano Vargas, concluding they’d probably find him in the spring, once the snow melted.
Now all Chiara Vargas did was sit and stare out the front window of their house. Her hair had strands of grey in it that had never been there before, and she wouldn’t respond to anything but news of Feliciano. Lovino did his best to care for her and keep up with his studies, and often came home to cook meals for her.
“Mama?” Lovino called one evening from the kitchen. “Mama, I made some spaghetti carbonara...”
Nothing.
He set the plate down on the table next to her chair, moving a newspaper out of the way. Feliciano’s beaming face stared back at him. Lovino couldn’t smile like that. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t put the same thoughtless joy into his expressions. Not when life had decided to throw this at him. He couldn’t cheer mama up. He was doing well in his studies, but not well enough.
He wasn’t Feliciano.
He would never be able to replace Feliciano.
So mama would stay broken and staring out the window forever.
And whenever she did a double take on seeing him, he would have to keep saying “sorry, I’m not Feliciano”. Forever.
Sorry, I’m not Feliciano.
Sorry, I’m not good enough.
Sorry, I’m just Lovino Vargas.
---
He was just walking out of the graduation ceremony when he nearly bumped into someone.
“Watch where you’re- geh!” he nearly jumped back and into a wall when he saw who it was. Antonio, the same as ever, was grinning down at him, hands on hips. “Wh-what are you doing here?!”
“Well, I was watching you graduate! Congratulations!” he raised his hand for a high five. Lovino just stared at him, deadpan. Shrugging, he instead went for a massive bear hug. Lovino squeaked and squirmed in the surprisingly tough grip.
“GET OFF ME!” People were staring. Goddamn, people were staring. Finally, Antonio let go, and Lovino tried to straighten out his clothes and regain what dignity he’d just lost. Apparently, this display was hilarious, because Antonio cracked up laughing. “You shouldn’t hug a priest, damnit!”
“Oh yeah, you’re properly ordained now. And still so young and cute~!” he cried, letting out a long cooing sound that was something like “buhyooooo~”. He stopped and looked thoughtful again. “It’s going to be weird calling you boss and not the other way around.”
Once Lovino had finished an inner rant about how he was too old to be “cute”, he asked. “Why would you call me boss? You work for the army, not the church.”
Antonio grinned. “God’s army. I work for the church, and I work for the army of the church, and I also work for my brother. I’m a busy kind of guy.”
Lovino gaped at him for a long time. “That’s impossible. You’re insane, and I don’t know why I talk to you ever.” He turned on his heel and started walking down the corridor.
Antonio watched him go, and then called after him. “Who else would you talk to?”
The newly ordained priest stopped, clenching his fists. “My friends!” he shouted back.
Antonio raised his eyebrows at him. Lovino felt a blush race over his face.
“Shut up!” he snapped.
“I didn’t say anything.”
“I hate you!”
“You’re not allowed to. You’re a priest, now remember? Don’t hate the sinner, hate the sin.”
Lovino let out a cry of frustration and marched back to where Antonio stood. “Look, if you don’t give me a straight answer right now I am going to get you excommunicated, so help me God. Now you tell me exactly what you want with me, who you really work for, and why you won’t just leave me alone.” he snarled. Antonio stared at him, seeming almost impressed.
“Okay, uh, in reverse order, because I like you, the Hunters, and I’m trying to show you to your new office, Cardinal Vargas.”
“Cardi- I’m not a Cardinal yet.” was all Lovino could say to that. Hunters?
“Do you have to argue about everything? It kind of detracts from your cuteness.” Antonio sighed wearily. “Just follow me okay? And if you lose me, just follow the cat the rest of the way.”
“... what.”
---
Why was he following this lunatic? Much less through all these narrow back passages that you would need to be a cat to get through comfortably. Luckily Lovino was thin and spindly enough to squeeze through; God only knew how Antonio was managing it. He kept jabbering as he went.
“But if you join up, you get an instant promotion to cardinal just to give you the authority over everyone. Our current cardinal is getting a bit old for the job - don’t think you can mess with him though, he’ll kick your ass - and I guess they thought who better to replace him than a relative of Romulus himself?” he chatted, supposedly to Lovino though he didn’t wait for much of a response from him before continuing. “Though Romulus was more of a fighter than a planner, he was pretty good at both. Without him, though, we’re kind of scarce in the planning department. So we’ve got you!” He grinned like a Cheshire cat over his shoulder.
“You’re still not making any sense, idiot.” Lovino told him in no uncertain terms. Antonio just laughed.
“You’ll get it soon enough.” he suddenly stopped in front of a large, wall-length picture of Jesus. “Umm, what was the Latin version of Luke 11:9...”
“Ecce sto ad ostium, et pulso: si quis audierit vocem meam, et aperuerit mihi ianuam, intrabo ad illum, et cœnabo cum illo, et ipse mecum.” Lovino rattled off, only half paying attention to what he was saying. There was something not right about the eyes on this painting.
They blinked.
Before he had time to scream, the painting swung forward, revealing a man. He looked once at Lovino, and then at Antonio. A smile spread, recognition sparking. “Oh, good afternoon, Antonio, sir.”
“Buenos dias! I’m bringing Lovi-, ah, soon to be Cardinal Vargas, on his first tour. Can we come in?” he asked brightly. The man, clearly a guard, nodded.
“Certainly. Feel free.” And he stepped to the side. Antonio started descending the stairs. Lovino regarded the staircase with some suspicion. It seemed to be going down into the ground, much deeper than he particularly wanted to go. Antonio stopped, looking back at him questioningly.
“You alright, Lovi?” he asked, then smiled. “You don’t need to be scared, it’s not dark at all down here, we have lots of lights.”
“I’m not scared!” Lovino snapped, striding past the guard and down the stairs, trying not to shiver when the door closed behind them. “Just get going or whatever, stupid...”
The stairs seemed to descend forever, and Lovino wondered if he was being lead to the centre of the earth. Down to hell? Ironic, since he’d just been ordained. The lights on the walls flickered occasionally, and the whole thing looked like every underground passage in every horror movie Lovino had had the misfortune to witness (he didn’t like them at all). Something was going to jump out at them, he knew it. Without noticing, he’d pressed himself closer to Antonio than he would have normally, but this place was scaring him, no matter what he said.
“Protect me, you bastard.” he muttered. Antonio looked down at him, but didn’t say anything to that.
Lovino nearly tripped when the stairs stopped abruptly, smoothing out into flat ground. Looking up, there was a large wooden door. Antonio was right, it was well lit down here. He could see all the engravings and markings on it... as well as a few instances of graffiti.
“Okay Lovi, here it is, Hunter HQ.” Antonio said, smiling at the little priest. “Don’t yell or do anything sudden, okay?”
“What kind of warning is that?”
“A good one.” The older man replied, and then opened the door.
Notes:
- Collegio Romano is a college in Rome (duh) closely associated by the Vatican. It is EXTREMELY prestigious, and yes, a lot of strings were pulled to get Lovino in there, especially so young.
- No, Lovino still doesn't know that Antonio = Boss cat.