Gift for ty1407
Title : What Heart Can’t Remember
Author : resha04
Recipient : ty1407
Character(s) or Pairing(s) : SpainxRomano, a very brief of GermanyxItaly, Canada, mention of France
Word count : 7,629
Ratings : T
Warnings : angstiness, Romano’s swearing, long one-shot is long, unavoidable grammar mistakes
Summary : …The body can
A/N for the recipient : I’m very sorry if this isn’t what you’re looking for m(_ _)m And this turns out angstier than I expected. So very sorry….
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He thought it was strange, really, that the first thing that came into his mind when he woke up in the morning, every morning, was that he had forgotten something.
What had he forgotten anyway?
Hazel golden eyes blinked in the dimness of the room, staring at the white ceiling for a while before shifting his gaze to the window, the sunlight from outside dim from the cover of the curtains. He remembered he had promised Feliciano to go with him today, looking for a present for Feliks’ upcoming birthday. He didn’t forget to water the tomatoes yesterday. He did grocery two days ago, so he shouldn’t need to do that anytime soon. He didn’t forget to kick Francis in the shin when he touched him in inappropriate places in his uninvited visit yesterday. He didn’t forget to tell Gilbert he was an ass.
So what had he forgotten?
He decided it was too early in the morning to think about something that seemed not important. Forcing himself to sit up, Romano stared at his sheet-tangled legs before kicking the said sheet off and swung his feet off the bed, his legs landed with a soft ‘thump’ on the cold floor. He left the messed up bed and made his way to his wardrobe, pulling out fresh shirt and jeans, putting them on before walking to the mirror.
His still had his bedhead, but he didn’t feel like fixing it now. It was Saturday anyway. So he only ran his hand through the messed-up hair and exited the room, half ready to start a day.
But he knew there was something that he had forgotten.
-o-
“Ve… It’s a nice day today, isn’t it, fratello?” Feliciano chirped from the brim of his glass, his hazel golden eyes glimmering slightly in the afternoon light.
“I guess,” Romano shrugged, sipping his own cappuccino. Feliciano’s favorite café wasn’t half bad, he had to admit. The service was good and the cappuccino they served was okay. And he wasn’t feeling like complaining today, so Romano leaned back on his seat and chose to watch the people passing by instead.
“Do you think Feliks will like the present we bought him?” His brother looked at him eagerly, his eyes hoping. “I know he likes ponies, but he’s had like, tons of them already, ve.”
“He’ll like it,” Not turning his eyes away from the street, Romano replied nonchalantly. From the corner of his eye, he could see Feliciano’s lips formed a pout. “Ve… Fratello, I’m serious.”
“I am too, you dumbass.” Shifting his gaze from the crowded street, Romano raised a brow at his brother. “It’s not like he’ll mind to have one more of those stupid things. I bet he’ll be overjoyed.”
“Ve… You’re right.” Feliciano giggled, leaning back on his own seat. He patted the medium-sized shopping bag with a bright pink pony doll inside it endearingly. “Hang in there, Mr. Pony. You’ll meet your new owner soon.”
It was stupid to tell a doll to hang in there. No, it was stupid to talk to a doll on the first place, but he wasn’t in the mood to tell his brother that, so Romano only raised a brow and sipped his cappuccino, his eyes absently strayed back to the street.
Oh yeah, he had forgotten something. But what was it?
He didn’t notice the sad look Feliciano gave him across the table.
-o-
He came back before 8, sighing lightly as he entered his house and slipped off his shoes. Being with Feliciano for a whole day could be as tiring as hell. He glanced at the clock and felt a slight twist on his stomach, something that always happened recently and he still couldn’t figure out why.
He made his way to the kitchen, shrugging off his coat on the way and draping it on the kitchen chair. He didn’t bother to put on the apron first as he took out ingredients from the refrigerator and started to prepare dinner. It all passed in silence, the washing, the chopping, the boiling, the mixing. But it wasn’t unusual for him. He felt like he’d been used to it, like he’d been doing it for a long time.
Maybe there really was something he’d forgotten. Something that had a connection with the familiar silence in the kitchen before 8 in the evening, save for the sound of kitchen utensils and the shimmering pan
He set the dinner on the table, pasta tonight, because he felt like it. Pasta with extra tomatoes, his favorite. He sat himself down on the table and took the fork in his hand. He didn’t start immediately though.
At this time of the day, he was always made aware that there was something he had forgotten.
-o-
Monday came by quickly, and like always, Romano awoke in the morning with the feeling that he had forgotten something. But he had no time to think about it either today, because it was Monday and Monday meant work.
So Romano made himself presentable and headed to the kitchen for breakfast.
The kitchen was still and quiet in the morning before he entered, and it still was even after he had entered. Romano couldn’t pinpoint why. It just seemed wrong for the kitchen to be so quiet, so… empty when the day had just started. The silence of the kitchen seemed wrong in the morning.
Was it what he forgot? Why the kitchen was so empty in the morning, as ridiculous as that sounded?
The ring of the house phone shook him out of his daze and he clicked his tongue in light irritation, moving from the cappuccino he was making to answer it.
“Good morning, fratello!”
“What is it, Feli?” His brother was so loud this early in the morning. He didn’t understand where he got all that energy from.
“Just want to greet you first in the morning, ve!” Feliciano’s voice was full of energy and smiles, but Romano couldn’t bring himself to react to that. He wasn’t in the mood. He just stared at the corridor wall before him, fiddling absentmindedly with the small notebook by the phone on the side table. “Now you’ve greeted me. What do you want?”
“Just want to know if you’re doing fine,” Feliciano chirped. “Ludwig, don’t stir it too fast, ve!”
He would’ve rolled his eyes, no, he would have yelled to the potato bastard via the phone, and to his brother too, if only he was in the mood. “If you’re gonna get lovey dovey, do it somewhere else. Not when you’re on the phone.”
“We’re not, don’t worry.” He could almost picture Feliciano’s mischievous smile by his tone. “It’s not the time of the day yet.” So who says that Feliciano was such a pure, innocent angel? “How are you doing, fratello? Did you sleep well? What do you have for breakfast? Don’t forget to water the plants.”
“I’m doing fine, cappuccino and toast, I don’t.” Romano deadpanned, fiddling with the pen next. “I’m not a kid.”
“Just want to remind you,” Feliciano chuckled lightly. This time, Romano did roll his eyes. “You’re just trying to make a conversation, silly.”
“H-how did you know, ve?!”
“It’s crystal clear like Sicily’s sky.” Even though he wasn’t in the mood to yell, he always had the mood for sarcasm.
“Oops, I guess you caught me there, then.” Feliciano giggled, didn’t sound guilty at all. “Yes, I was trying to make conversation. Because I’m worried about you, fratello.”
“What are you worried about me for?” Romano raised a brow, drawing a circle in the notepad. “I’m alive, safe, sound, and well.”
“I know you are, but…” Feliciano paused, and once again there was silence around him, although only for a fleeting second. It sounded like a shrill ringing in his ears. Funny, because silence was supposed to be soundless. It doesn’t make any sense if silence created any sound at all.
“Get to the point, dumbass.”
“You’re not yourself lately, fratello.”
This time, the sentence did snap him out completely of his daze. “What in the fucking hell are you saying?”
“Ve… It’s true! Ludwig said so, Francis and Gilbert said so, Matthew said so, even Kiku agreed!”
“What is it about me that’s not myself?” Romano frowned, before he looked at the clock and mentally cursed. “Shit. I’m gonna be late for work. Let’s continue this later.”
“But…” Romano groaned and he heard a defeated sigh from the other side of the phone. “Okay, ve… Have a nice day, fratello.”
“Yeah, you too.”
His cappuccino had gone cold when he rushed back to the kitchen, but he couldn’t care less. He dumped the wasted cappuccino on the sink before snatching his coat and suitcase from the kitchen chair. It would be another boring day of work.
He knew he had to stick with this boring office work for a while until he got enough money and connection to be a full-time illustrator, because even though he was still doing promotion by selling the paints he did in his spare time and did part-time illustration jobs, he hadn’t had enough connection and money to afford a studio yet. So he just had to bear with it for a while.
It certainly wasn’t something he’d forgotten.
-o-
It was yet another boring, dull day at work. Romano groaned and glared at his plain white cubicle as if it was the reason why he had to spend a day in it. He heard a soft steps behind him and turned around to face his friend and co-worker.
Matthew smiled to him, a folder cradled in his arms and his glasses perched on his nose perfectly. “How are you doing?”
“Soooo good,” Romano snickered. “So good that I feel like I’m gonna die from boringness.” Matthew chuckled.
“But it seems like you have so much to do.”
“That’s the fucking point. So much to do that I’ve been spending all day sitting here with the damn calculator and stupid archives. I’m bored as hell.”
Pulling a spare desk chair from beside him, Matthew sat down, eyeing him with sympathy. “It does sound boring.”
“It fucking is.” Stretching his back and craning his neck, Romano let out a satisfied groan as he earned the relieving pop sound from both. “They work me to the bone just because I was absent for 2 weeks six months ago.” Yeah, he hadn’t seen the damn car coming, so deep in his thought he had been. But yet now when he thought back of that day, what exactly had he been thinking that he hadn’t paid attention to the street?
“You scared me out of my skin, you know,” Matthew said, his tone held no anger or blame, just concern. “And then you went and lost your memories too. Really, you have a talent for giving me a heart-attack.” He chuckled when Romano shot him a glare.
“It’s not like I wanted to lose my memories,” The Italian scoffed, twirling his pen between his fingers absently. “It just happened. And now I remember everything, so it’s fine, right?”
Matthew looked as if he wanted to say something on the last sentence, but he swallowed and fell quiet for a moment before replying, “I guess.”
Romano eyed him for a moment from the corner of his eye, before turning his eyes back to the pen on his hand, still twirled around. He contemplated between asking or not, before finally decided on the former. The curiosity, along with the nagging feeling about something he’d forgotten, refused to leave him alone. And a part of him also wanted to know what it was and why Feliciano said that.
“Hey, Matthew,” The Canadian lifted his eyes from the folder on his lap to look at him, eyebrows slightly raised.
“Yes?”
“Am I not myself lately?”
Violet eyes widened behind the glasses, and Matthew leaned forward slightly on his seat. “You remember? I mean, you realize?”
So what Feliciano said was true? Romano shook his head, keeping his gaze on the pen on his hand, twirling it around and around. “No. Feliciano told me few days ago.”
“I see…” A look of slight disappointment passed through Matthew’s face and he leaned back on his seat. “Well, I think you are not yourself lately indeed, Romano.”
“How’s so?” He tried to sound nonchalant, but he couldn’t ignore his heart beating fast inside his chest. He felt that the answer to that held something important, maybe that something that he’d forgotten.
‘How to say it…” Matthew fell silent for a moment, frowning slightly in concentration. About a minute passed by until he finally spoke again. “Like now. You’re not yourself.”
Resisting the urge to spin his chair around and give his friend a piece of his mind, Romano focused on the pen on his hand instead. “It’s not an answer, dumbass.”
“See? Your answer is not like you at all.” Matthew sounded desperate, and even without seeing him Romano could tell how his forehead creased slightly in his desperation. “Usually you wouldn’t answer like this. You would yell at me, or start throwing curses at me. This is just isn’t you at all.”
Ah…. So that was it.
“Since six months ago, you just seemed… so calm that it’s like you’re a different person.” Matthew’s grip on his folder tightened. It was apparent that he was trying to get his point across, afraid that something or Romano himself might interrupt him. But the said Italian was still not facing him, his face was still casted downward, focusing on the pen on his hand.
“You don’t curse as often, and when you do, it lacks your usual tone, like you’re saying it out of habit or… or out of obligation.”
He wanted to tell Matthew how silly it was, to think he cursed out of obligation, but he found himself speechless, trying to focus on the pen on his hand but failing.
“You don’t yell, you don’t get angry, you don’t get flustered, you just seem…” At this Matthew paused, as if it saddened him to just finish the sentence. He fell silent once again, but this time Romano too didn’t say anything.
He had lost count on how many times the pen had twirled, but on the next moment a hand had caught his wrist, successfully stopping him. He raised his face, slightly surprised, to see Matthew’s distressed eyes, his hand was still gripping Romano’s wrist.
“Stop doing that, please.”
He stared at the Canadian for a moment longer before putting the pen down, something on the firm tone told him to just listen to the usually-quiet man before him.
“You just seem devoid of those emotions.” Matthew finished his previous sentence with a defeated tone, loosening his grip on his friend’s wrist.
Romano watched as the Canadian took his folder from the chair he’d left and made a move to go back to his own cubicle, but then the words slipped his mouth before he was able to stop it.
“It’s because…”
That stopped Matthew on his track, turning around to look at him, who had turned his gaze back to the plain wall of his cubicle. He didn’t know what to say now. It just sounded really ridiculous. But Matthew was his best friend. He had already seen the most ridiculous parts of him, so he got nothing to lose anymore, right?
“I feel that someone once told me that I shouldn’t be like that,” Someone that he oddly couldn’t remember, although he remembered the words clearly, like it had just been said yesterday.
“Why are you so angry all the time? If only you’re a bit, just a bit, like your brother, then it won’t be so difficult all the time!”
“That I shouldn’t be angry, cursing, yelling, all the time.” He watched as Matthew’s violet eyes widened slightly at the reply. Romano shrugged nonchalantly, acting as if he didn’t care.
“That’s why I think I shouldn’t be.”
Although he did care. He did care because he didn’t know why those words affected him so much.
-o-
He came back home 15 minutes before 8, tired and not really in a good mood. At least he was too tired to wonder, like he did everyday, why he always so rushed, so determined to finish preparing dinner before 8, like he had the obligation to have dinner at 8.
It was just silly, really. Because considering his job, he had to be a flexible person, right?
It just didn’t make sense, and to add it up, he was being silly by obeying to what his mind unconsciously told him : prepare a decent dinner. So ignoring how tired he was, he threw the refrigerator door open and took out ingredients.
Always, everyday, even though he couldn’t explain it, he had to have dinner at 8.
He never told anyone that, not even Feliciano. Because it would sound ridiculous. He didn’t remember doing such thing before, when he was still living with his brother.
It would sound even more ridiculous because he always prepared dinner for two.
Maybe it was something that he’d forgotten?
-o-
He woke up in the middle of the night, eyes wide and strangely wet from the dream he’d just had, a dream that he had trouble remembering clearly.
Romano laid still on his bed, on his side of the bed, staring at the wall across him and feeling the tears slowly slid down his eyes to his cheek.
Fuck his memory. He was getting sick of this forgetting-things matter.
He could recall some bits and peaces of the dream earlier, and he somehow felt that it was something important. But then why was it? Why did he deem it important when the only thing he could remember clearly from the dream was the words.
“Why are you always so angry?!”
Somehow, those words dulled the painful anger inside him and restrained the cry so close to his tongue. Slowly, Romano reached for the other side of the bed.
“If only you’re a bit, just a bit, like your brother, then it won’t be so difficult all the time! You always make it difficult!”
Someone was shouting inside his dream, someone was angry, someone was upset, someone was disappointed in him.
Someone
who?
His fingers curled around the fabric of the bed cover, tightening and gripping it desperately. The cold tears had found their way down his cheeks and dripped on the cover of his pillow, staining it wet. Outside, the moon shone gently, silently, coldly,
so alone
like him
but he had always been, hadn’t he?
“Just… I’ll just take a break. I’m not breaking up with you, just… taking a break.”
He wanted to say someone’s name, to feel it on his tongue, to hear the echo in the silent room.
“I’m tired with this, Romano.”
But he didn’t know what that someone’s name was, or who that someone was.
-o-
He woke up in the morning with the same feeling as everyday. He’d forgotten something. He didn’t remember why he had tear stains on his face or why he had woken up clinging so desperately to the other side of the bed.
Romano felt like he was getting crazy of this.
He was tired of not remembering.
He wanted to scream at no one, demanding his memory to be given back, but then the echo in his head restrained him from doing so. So Romano settled on sitting up, staring blankly at the surprisingly dull line of sunlight on his bedroom’s floor.
Was it this dull? Sunlight was supposed to be warm and overflowed with life and energy.
Romano was tired of asking and getting no answer.
He was tired of not remembering.
He buried his head into his knees, someone’s name so close to the tip of his tongue,
but he couldn’t say it nonetheless
because he didn’t know.
-o-
Work was so busy today. He hadn’t had the chance to have a chat with Matthew, even though he was dying to know, to ask, if there was something wrong with him
because he couldn’t remember.
Then he went home and like always, like everyday, it mattered to arrive home before 8.
And like always, like everyday, even though he didn’t know why, he threw the refrigerator door open, taking ingredients out, and prepared dinner.
It was eating him inside, this feeling of helplessness. But then there was much more than that.
It no longer felt normal for him, to stand alone in the kitchen even though it hadn’t reached 8 in the evening. The silence not longer felt normal and the house oddly felt too big.
He wanted to say someone’s name but he choked on his breath and it was carried away by the silence, forgotten.
-o-
The seventh month. He had reached his limit.
It was 8 in the evening, and again there he was, sitting at the table, facing his dinner, facing the empty chair across him served with the same meal.
Dinner at 8, always at 8, had to be at 8.
Just sitting there and realizing that made him want to smile, but then his mind refused to give him someone’s name and his tongue refused to let it slid off.
It was supposed to be a happy occasion, dinner at 8, maybe.
Maybe.
He didn’t know.
He couldn’t remember.
He wanted to but he couldn’t.
“I want to remember,” He whispered to no one. “Please let me remember.” His voice bounded off the walls but left the house soundless nonetheless. Only the echo of the yelling and the shrill ringing of the soundless house answered him.
Then all of a sudden, the silence was broken by the sound of the door opening in a rush, and he lifted his head to the source of the noise.
He didn’t fail to notice that it wasn’t so soundless anymore.
-o-
Antonio hadn’t expected this.
True, he had left the town for 7 months. He would say only for 7 months, but when he’d learned what had happened in those seven months, he couldn’t say it.
He had been angry that night. Tired from work and wanted nothing more than to go back to his peaceful house and sleep. But that night Romano had been tired too, and it quickly escalated to tired and angry. He couldn’t even remember why they had been arguing in the first place.
It was a sheer coincidence that he met Feliciano and Ludwig on his way to his house, the pair were on their way home from late grocery. Upon seeing him, Feliciano wasted no time to tackle him in a hug, so tight he thought he would suffocate.
“Big brother Antonio!” The Italian exclaimed, voice filled with joy and relief, but Antonio didn’t miss the hint of desperation in it. “Where have you been, ve?”
“Long time no see, Feli,” He grinned and ruffled the other’s hair. He spotted Ludwig approaching and gave him a smile. “Sorry I’ve been gone for long.”
“Where have you been?” Feliciano repeated, releasing the older man and looked at him desperately. “Francis and Gilbert said they couldn’t get in contact with you. You just… just disappeared!”
“I… I lost my cellphone along the way,” Antonio admitted, anxiety started to grow in the pit of his stomach on the sight of Feliciano’s face. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but I did tell Gilbert and Francis and Romano.”
At that, Feliciano’s lower lip trembled. Antonio turned to Ludwig for help, he was utterly confused now, but the German also looked uneasy. “Did something happen?”
“Actually, something did,” Ludwig replied calmly, his stern blue eyes softened. He looked sympathetic, but it only made Antonio feel worse.
“What happened?”
“Fratello had an accident seven months ago, just several days after you disappeared,” Feliciano had taken a step back, but he still clung to Antonio’s coat with one hand.
Antonio felt a cold lump fell to the pit of his stomach. “W-what?! How is he?! Is he-“ He must looked terrible because Ludwig cringed, but Feliciano’s voice cut through his train of dreadful thoughts.
“He’s okay. The injuries weren’t severe, and he was released from the hospital in about two weeks,” It mustn’t be everything, because Feliciano still looked grim. Antonio suddenly had difficulty breathing.
“Big brother Antonio, why did you leave town?”
The question was so out of the blue, too sudden, that Antonio was taken aback. Even Ludwig seemed surprised. But the look in Feliciano’s eyes was unshakable. “Did something happen between you and fratello?”
“How did you know?”
“It’s only my guess,” Feliciano’s grip on his coat loosened just a bit. “Big brother Antonio, fratello lost his memories because of the accident,” He paused slightly on the sharp intake of breath from the Spaniard’s side. “But he’s recovered all of them. Almost all of them.”
The silence that fell between them was thick, even if it was only for a moment, because Antonio spoke again, his voice shaking slightly.
“But?”
“He still doesn’t remember about you.”
The night wind suddenly felt harsher and colder. Antonio was having difficulty processing what the other said.
Romano had lost his memories,
he’d gotten them back
but he didn’t remember about him.
“That’s not all,” Feliciano’s voice had lowered, and even though Antonio didn’t notice, Ludwig did notice that his tone had turned colder. He shuddered. Everyone might said that Romano was the over-protective one, but they didn’t know Feliciano could be too if he wanted, especially if that was about his brother.
“Fratello doesn’t yell, doesn’t get angry, and rarely swears since then. Matthew told me that fratello said, someone told him not to be like that, so he didn’t.”
Antonio couldn’t blame the accusing tone Feliciano had used, because the lump in his stomach had grown unbearable.
“Why are you so angry all the time?!”
“Let me see him.”
“If only you’re a bit, just a bit, like your brother, then it won’t be so difficult all the time! You always make it difficult!”
Feliciano released his hold on Antonio’s coat, his face had softened, and when he spoke his tone was warm.
“Maybe fratello doesn’t remember about you yet, but I can tell he’s waiting.” He smiled wistfully. “Go and see him, big brother Antonio.” He pushed his chest gently, cocking his head to the direction of his house, their house.
Antonio didn’t need to be told twice.
He whirled around and ran.
-o-
“Romano!”
He lifted his face and locked eyes with a pair of emerald eyes, desperate and worried. A tall man was standing on his doorway, messy brown curls and tan skin, his breath created a smoke from the cold.
He felt like he knew that color of the eyes, the color that radiated everything about earth and life, everything about the warm laughter and the feelings in those eyes. He recognized the voice, the warm timbre and the shake lacing on the edge of it, so similar to the one in his dream, to the one whose owner he was supposed to know.
He knew that face. He could almost picture it painted with a smile, warm and bright and everything that was the picture of the sun and the life themselves.
He knew this person.
On the next moment, a pair of strong arms were wrapped around him and he was enveloped in an embrace, strong and protective and familiar. He could smell the scent of the cold autumn outside, but also the spicy scent of the earth that was so familiar.
Yes, this person was the reason. The reason he always thought he’d forgotten something. The reason of his unexplainable habit of dinner.
The person still held him there desperately, like he was afraid that he would disappear. He could hear the soft, choked words the other was whispering.
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”
Dinner at 8, always.
Because that was the only time of the day when they could have meal together. Before 8, either of them hadn’t gotten back from work. After 8, both were too tired to do anything more than sleep.
“I’m so sorry, Roma.”
His name was…
“Antonio?”
-o-
It was his fault, all his.
True, they both had been tired, they had been angry. But that didn’t justify what he had said, what he had done after that.
He said those things that he should never said, those things he’d never truly meant. Romano’s expression after he said it that night…
He should’ve realized. He’d broken him.
But then his anger still had control over him, and he left.
“Just… I’ll just take a break. I’m not breaking up with you, just… taking a break.”
Antonio had never regretted something this much before.
“I’m tired with this, Romano.”
Yes, he hadn’t meant to leave permanently, he hadn’t meant to leave Romano for real. He had thought of it as only a trip to refresh himself, so he could clear his mind and have better thoughts.
He hadn’t meant to lose his cellphone on the way.
He hadn’t meant for this to happen.
Antonio could see from the way Romano looked at him when he’d just entered.
“Why are you so angry all the time? If only you’re a bit, just a bit, like your brother, then it won’t be so difficult all the time!”
People would say that using the word “breaking” was exaggerating, but he knew better. He’d broke the Italian, and neither of them knew how to fix it.
“It’s all my fault,” He whispered, hoping Romano would hear him, would at least understand that he meant what he said. If he wouldn’t forgive him, that was okay. Because he couldn’t forgive himself either. “I’m so sorry, Roma. I didn’t mean it, I swear. I didn’t mean a single thing I said that night.”
Then, slow but firm, he felt a pair of arms sneaked to his back, clutching onto him tightly. Romano buried his head in his chest and for the first time after those 7 months, he said it.
“Antonio you motherfucker, damn bastard…”
Antonio couldn’t be happier. He laughed shakily into Romano’s soft hair, relieved and thankful. Oh my God, thank you.
“You… You idiot, heartless asshole!” He felt Romano retracted his arms from his back and resorted to punch his chest, but he could tell it was half-hearted. “You left! You just… You just left!”
“I’m sorry,” Antonio tightened his arms around the smaller figure. He had made that mistake once. “I’m so very sorry, Romano.”
He didn’t want to let go again.
-o-
For the first time after 7 months, he felt free. At the sound of that voice he’d longed to hear, at the touch and the warmth that made him feel safe, Romano felt something that had weighed his heart and constricted his tongue, bounded him and all that he was, was released.
Yes, he remembered now, all of it.
Antonio. The silly, idiot, all-smiling-and-sunlight Antonio. The one man who had said he loved him, who had smiled to him like he never did to other people, who had accepted his sour attitude and insecurities.
The one who had expressed how he wanted him to be more like his brother.
And it hurt so much, because he had thought Antonio was different, that Antonio loved him the way he was, because Antonio had accepted him.
After that night, after Antonio left, he’d lost the only thing he could hold onto. What value did he have if even the only person in this world who had claimed that it was okay if he stayed the way he was, had grown tired of him?
“You just left, and… and… oh fucking hell, I hate you so much!”
“I know, I know…” Antonio sounded guilty and almost like a child who had made a little girl cry and didn’t know what to do about it. “I’m so sorry. You shouldn’t ever forgive me.”
“Shut up!” Romano shoved him on the chest, but Antonio held on. He glared at the taller man, feeling tears had started to form on his eyes, but he refused to let them fall. “Don’t you dare tell me what to do!”
Antonio blinked at him, looked slightly confused. “But…”
“You just left without giving me the chance to…” His pride be damned. He got nothing to lose, and it was rare for him to feel free like this, didn’t have to be bound his own emotions and thoughts. “To fucking apologize, you dumbass!”
“What for?” Looks like 7 months trip couldn’t change Antonio’s stupidity even a little.
“For being such a jerk!” Romano glared at him, his lips pursed into a thin line. “I…” His shoulders slumped down and he lowered his head slightly, biting away the tears. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize,” Antonio’s hand found its way to his face, gently wiping the fallen tears. “It’s not your fault, Romano.”
“It is,” Why did Antonio have to be so forgiving? “You were right, I’m such an ass.”
“Romano, please look at me.”
“I don’t wanna.”
A chuckle shook Antonio’s body lightly, and Romano felt the other’s warm hand tilted his chin gently.
Antonio’s eyes were warm, although they were still laced with guilt. He didn’t smile, and his eyes were sincere when he said, “I didn’t mean what I said. I was tired and angry and didn’t think straight. It’s my fault, not yours.”
Romano still refused to look at him, casting his eyes down instead. He hated how Antonio had to be so forgiving when it was apparent that it was his fault. “Why can’t you just agree that it’s my fault for once?” He could feel Antonio’s gaze at him, but he wouldn’t look at the Spaniard.
“Because I don’t think it is, Roma.” Antonio’s voice was firm but gentle, and goddamnit, he had been longing for it, he’d just realized. “We were both tired that night. It was only normal that we would argue. But it doesn’t justify me for saying those things to you.”
“You were right anyway, so no need to make a damn fuss out of it…” He trailed off, ignoring the sharp pain in his heart.
“I didn’t mean it,” Antonio patiently replied, his voice unwavering. Romano wondered how long the Spaniard would be this patient with him. Obviously, Antonio would give up and admit that he was really just an ass and left, again. He had to bite up another tears on the thought.
“It’s alright if you just be honest,” He put his hands on the other’s chest and pushed him away half-heartedly, but Antonio didn’t budge, keeping his arms around him.
“I am honest.” Antonio still didn’t smile as he brushed the strands of hair from his face. “I know you don’t believe me, Roma, and I don’t blame you for it. But please let me make you believe again.”
Should he give Antonio a chance again when he would get hurt eventually in the end? Life had taught him not to give himself a chance, not to give other people a chance. Admit that he was an ass, good-for-nothing bastard, and accept that people never needed him. That way, it wouldn’t hurt, not as much as being betrayed by the ones he loved and he thought loved him.
But then, those 7 months had proven to him that he’d fallen for Antonio much deeper than he had anticipated. Why?
Because he had believed in him.
Did he have a courage to believe once again?
-o-
“I don’t know…”
Antonio’s heart sunk almost instantly on the reply. Romano didn’t move, but he had put pressure on his hands that had found their way onto his chest once again, shoving Antonio away gently.
“Romano,”
“I don’t know about this, Antonio.” Romano shoved a bit harder and Antonio felt his grip loosened, the impact on the previous words turned his limbs to lead. “I just…” The Italian shook his head in distress. “I just don’t know.”
Silence fell thick between them. For once, Antonio was speechless.
People said there are mistakes that can’t be fixed, no matter what. There are ones that can’t be forgotten or forgiven. That was the nature of humans, that was what shaped humanity.
Maybe this was one of them.
-o-
He didn’t want to get hurt again.
He didn’t want to live without Antonio, without his smiles and his warmth and his love and acceptance.
But Antonio would grow tired of him one day, this time for real, and he would be left alone in the end, too broken to even pick up the pieces.
He was really full of contradiction, wasn’t he?
Why did Antonio have to look so shattered?
He’d made the right choice, Romano convinced himself. This way, neither of them would get hurt. It might hurt at first, but after time passed it would be no more.
Liar
Yes, he was a liar. Because he’d seen and felt and experienced, that in those 7 months, his life was only an empty shell of the former one, the one with Antonio. Who said that time could heal all wounds?
“I’ll come back tomorrow,” Antonio’s words snapped him out of his daze. Romano looked up at him, brows furrowed slightly. Antonio didn’t smile, but his expression was soft and wistful. “Please think about it. I’ll give you as much time as you need, but I’ll come again tomorrow.”
Antonio released him completely and seemed hesitant for a moment, before pressing a soft kiss to his head. Romano kept his head down, even after Antonio had retracted and he heard his footsteps echoing across the house.
He heard the sound of the front door opening, but then there was a pause and Antonio said,
“Let me make you dinner tomorrow, okay?”
He could tell from his voice alone that Antonio was smiling, and he wanted nothing but to lift his head and told him how he wanted everything to go back to the way they were before the fight, so he wouldn’t have the scar and the doubt and the contradiction.
But he didn’t want to get hurt again, to hear those words again, to see Antonio’s frustrated face again because he knew that he was the reason.
He heard the sound of the door closing and that was when he finally let himself break down, curling into himself and burying his head in his knees, sobbing silently.
The house was silence once again.
Maybe he had to get used to it, this time for real.
-o-
Antonio came the day after, an hour before 8. He brought grocery with him, and his smile was nervous.
“Hi, Roma!” He tried to sound cheerful, but he knew he must look very nervous because Romano didn’t even scowl. He just looked uneasy as he stepped aside to let Antonio enter.
The kitchen still seemed the same as before, and a wave of nostalgia rushed him as he threw glances around, absorbing the familiarity of the room. But along with the warmth that the reminiscence brought, there was a bitter feeling that stained the memory, because the fight that night had taken place there.
Putting the grocery bag on the counter, Antonio reached for his apron and found it still there, hung beside the refrigerator. Then for the first time since the night before, it hit him.
Romano never wore apron when he was cooking, and he didn’t remember about him. But he still kept it there nonetheless.
He had been waiting, even though he couldn’t remember.
The realization sent another painful twist down his stomach, and Antonio fought the urge to just turn around and pulled Romano in a hug, the one he wouldn’t let go ever again. But the silence around them was enough to stop him, so he resorted to taking out the groceries, turning his face away so Romano couldn’t see his expression.
The Italian had taken the seat on the kitchen chair, drumming his fingers lightly on the surface of the table. Antonio started to wash the vegetables, his mind strayed to the night before. He had called Francis that night, and his French friend had gladly provide him with a couch for the night, along with some ‘services’, in which he had listened to Antonio’s spluttered out regrets and guilt.
“True, there are mistakes that can’t be forgiven,”
He started to cut the tomatoes.
“But I believe, mon ami, that love can overcome all things.”
Francis and his love logic, Antonio couldn’t suppress a smile. But he didn’t deny that it indeed lightened his heart, even though only a little bit.
“So, where have you been?” Antonio blinked, letting the words registered in his mind before he replied.
“To my family’s house, and to Belgium and the Netherlands too.”
“I see…”
“How about you, Roma? Are you alright? How about your injuries?”
“It’s been 7 fucking months, you moron. They’ve all healed perfectly.”
The light and familiar conversation brought another wave of nostalgia to him. He knew he’d been away from this house, their home, for long enough, but he’d only truly realized it now.
He wanted to be back. To be by Romano’s side, made him smile and swear and blushed, spending time with him in this house that they owned together.
He didn’t know if he would ever be given the chance again.
-o-
Dinner was served, right several minutes before 8. Romano stared at the dishes before him, not a luxury one, but it was familiar and radiated home. Antonio sat down on the seat across him from the table.
Awkwardly, wordlessly, they started.
As soon as the taste reached his tongue, warm and somehow bittersweet feeling nestled on his chest. How long had Antonio become his home? The place where he belonged, the place where he was accepted, the place where he could feel safe?
Home wasn’t just this house anymore, he’d realized long ago, but the realization had just come to him again recently.
Home was where Antonio was. There had never been any real home for him until Antonio entered his life.
Could he ever live without Antonio again? Could he ever live without a home once again?
Would he succumb to his cowardice and lose the one place he had belonged, the one person who he had loved and for once had love him back?
-o-
When Romano put his fork down, Antonio had thought maybe there was something wrong with the food he cooked, and he had half hoped that Romano would start complaining like he always did.
But he was surprised to see tears dripping from the Italian’s eyes onto the surface of the table. On the next moment, he was on his feet. “Romano?!”
“Dammit,” The smaller man lowered his head and furiously wiped the tears with his palm. “Goddammit!”
“What’s wrong?” Antonio rushed to his side, kneeling down and gently pried his hand away from his face. “Have I done something wrong?”
“It’s scary,” It was almost inaudible, but Antonio heard it. He opened his mouth to ask but Romano had beat him to it. “But I can’t.”
“What do you mean?” Antonio cupped the other’s face in his hands, wiping the tears with his thumbs. “What is scary?”
“Don’t leave,” Romano had casted his eyes downward, but his words were firm and desperate, almost pleading. “I know you will eventually leave one day, seeing I’m such a pain in the ass, but…”
“No, Roma, I-“
“Don’t lie,” Romano shook his head, but didn’t pull away. “I don’t want you to lie, but I don’t want you to leave either. Why does it have to be so difficult?!”
I don’t want to get hurt again
Antonio threw any feelings that had restrained him to the wind and pulled the smaller man into his arms, holding him there tightly. He felt Romano’s cold tears dripped onto his shoulder, but he didn’t say anything. They stayed like that in silence for a moment, unmoving, until finally Antonio spoke, his voice firm but his tone gentle.
“I won’t leave, and I’m not lying,” This was the only chance he could fix it, if not everything, at least a bit of it. He prayed to God to please give him a chance once again. “I know I’ve hurt you. I know I’ve done something irreversible. I know there are mistakes that can’t be forgiven. But please Romano, please just believe this one word, if you can’t believe the rest.”
He heard no answer, but he received no resistance either, so he said it.
“I love you.”
He let the words sink in, trailing his hand until it found its way to the other’s hair.
“You and no one else. The real you.”
“Liar.”
“I’m not lying.”
“Don’t lie to just make me feel better.”
“I didn’t mean what I said that night.”
“Don’t lie.”
Antonio wanted to cry at how desperate Romano sounded. He wanted to believe but he was scared. He didn’t want to be lied to but he knew he would be hurt if he wasn’t.
“I’m not lying.”
He knew Romano still had trust in him, although it was just a very tiny bit, the remaining of the one he had broken.
“Please give me a chance, Romano. I wouldn’t hurt you ever again.”
He kissed the top of the Italian’s head softly.
“Please give me a chance.”
Slowly, surely, he felt the Romano’s hand on his back, clutching onto him, and he felt the other buried his head into his chest.
And he knew the nod he felt repressed on his chest was real.
Author : resha04
Recipient : ty1407
Character(s) or Pairing(s) : SpainxRomano, a very brief of GermanyxItaly, Canada, mention of France
Word count : 7,629
Ratings : T
Warnings : angstiness, Romano’s swearing, long one-shot is long, unavoidable grammar mistakes
Summary : …The body can
A/N for the recipient : I’m very sorry if this isn’t what you’re looking for m(_ _)m And this turns out angstier than I expected. So very sorry….
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He thought it was strange, really, that the first thing that came into his mind when he woke up in the morning, every morning, was that he had forgotten something.
What had he forgotten anyway?
Hazel golden eyes blinked in the dimness of the room, staring at the white ceiling for a while before shifting his gaze to the window, the sunlight from outside dim from the cover of the curtains. He remembered he had promised Feliciano to go with him today, looking for a present for Feliks’ upcoming birthday. He didn’t forget to water the tomatoes yesterday. He did grocery two days ago, so he shouldn’t need to do that anytime soon. He didn’t forget to kick Francis in the shin when he touched him in inappropriate places in his uninvited visit yesterday. He didn’t forget to tell Gilbert he was an ass.
So what had he forgotten?
He decided it was too early in the morning to think about something that seemed not important. Forcing himself to sit up, Romano stared at his sheet-tangled legs before kicking the said sheet off and swung his feet off the bed, his legs landed with a soft ‘thump’ on the cold floor. He left the messed up bed and made his way to his wardrobe, pulling out fresh shirt and jeans, putting them on before walking to the mirror.
His still had his bedhead, but he didn’t feel like fixing it now. It was Saturday anyway. So he only ran his hand through the messed-up hair and exited the room, half ready to start a day.
But he knew there was something that he had forgotten.
-o-
“Ve… It’s a nice day today, isn’t it, fratello?” Feliciano chirped from the brim of his glass, his hazel golden eyes glimmering slightly in the afternoon light.
“I guess,” Romano shrugged, sipping his own cappuccino. Feliciano’s favorite café wasn’t half bad, he had to admit. The service was good and the cappuccino they served was okay. And he wasn’t feeling like complaining today, so Romano leaned back on his seat and chose to watch the people passing by instead.
“Do you think Feliks will like the present we bought him?” His brother looked at him eagerly, his eyes hoping. “I know he likes ponies, but he’s had like, tons of them already, ve.”
“He’ll like it,” Not turning his eyes away from the street, Romano replied nonchalantly. From the corner of his eye, he could see Feliciano’s lips formed a pout. “Ve… Fratello, I’m serious.”
“I am too, you dumbass.” Shifting his gaze from the crowded street, Romano raised a brow at his brother. “It’s not like he’ll mind to have one more of those stupid things. I bet he’ll be overjoyed.”
“Ve… You’re right.” Feliciano giggled, leaning back on his own seat. He patted the medium-sized shopping bag with a bright pink pony doll inside it endearingly. “Hang in there, Mr. Pony. You’ll meet your new owner soon.”
It was stupid to tell a doll to hang in there. No, it was stupid to talk to a doll on the first place, but he wasn’t in the mood to tell his brother that, so Romano only raised a brow and sipped his cappuccino, his eyes absently strayed back to the street.
Oh yeah, he had forgotten something. But what was it?
He didn’t notice the sad look Feliciano gave him across the table.
-o-
He came back before 8, sighing lightly as he entered his house and slipped off his shoes. Being with Feliciano for a whole day could be as tiring as hell. He glanced at the clock and felt a slight twist on his stomach, something that always happened recently and he still couldn’t figure out why.
He made his way to the kitchen, shrugging off his coat on the way and draping it on the kitchen chair. He didn’t bother to put on the apron first as he took out ingredients from the refrigerator and started to prepare dinner. It all passed in silence, the washing, the chopping, the boiling, the mixing. But it wasn’t unusual for him. He felt like he’d been used to it, like he’d been doing it for a long time.
Maybe there really was something he’d forgotten. Something that had a connection with the familiar silence in the kitchen before 8 in the evening, save for the sound of kitchen utensils and the shimmering pan
He set the dinner on the table, pasta tonight, because he felt like it. Pasta with extra tomatoes, his favorite. He sat himself down on the table and took the fork in his hand. He didn’t start immediately though.
At this time of the day, he was always made aware that there was something he had forgotten.
-o-
Monday came by quickly, and like always, Romano awoke in the morning with the feeling that he had forgotten something. But he had no time to think about it either today, because it was Monday and Monday meant work.
So Romano made himself presentable and headed to the kitchen for breakfast.
The kitchen was still and quiet in the morning before he entered, and it still was even after he had entered. Romano couldn’t pinpoint why. It just seemed wrong for the kitchen to be so quiet, so… empty when the day had just started. The silence of the kitchen seemed wrong in the morning.
Was it what he forgot? Why the kitchen was so empty in the morning, as ridiculous as that sounded?
The ring of the house phone shook him out of his daze and he clicked his tongue in light irritation, moving from the cappuccino he was making to answer it.
“Good morning, fratello!”
“What is it, Feli?” His brother was so loud this early in the morning. He didn’t understand where he got all that energy from.
“Just want to greet you first in the morning, ve!” Feliciano’s voice was full of energy and smiles, but Romano couldn’t bring himself to react to that. He wasn’t in the mood. He just stared at the corridor wall before him, fiddling absentmindedly with the small notebook by the phone on the side table. “Now you’ve greeted me. What do you want?”
“Just want to know if you’re doing fine,” Feliciano chirped. “Ludwig, don’t stir it too fast, ve!”
He would’ve rolled his eyes, no, he would have yelled to the potato bastard via the phone, and to his brother too, if only he was in the mood. “If you’re gonna get lovey dovey, do it somewhere else. Not when you’re on the phone.”
“We’re not, don’t worry.” He could almost picture Feliciano’s mischievous smile by his tone. “It’s not the time of the day yet.” So who says that Feliciano was such a pure, innocent angel? “How are you doing, fratello? Did you sleep well? What do you have for breakfast? Don’t forget to water the plants.”
“I’m doing fine, cappuccino and toast, I don’t.” Romano deadpanned, fiddling with the pen next. “I’m not a kid.”
“Just want to remind you,” Feliciano chuckled lightly. This time, Romano did roll his eyes. “You’re just trying to make a conversation, silly.”
“H-how did you know, ve?!”
“It’s crystal clear like Sicily’s sky.” Even though he wasn’t in the mood to yell, he always had the mood for sarcasm.
“Oops, I guess you caught me there, then.” Feliciano giggled, didn’t sound guilty at all. “Yes, I was trying to make conversation. Because I’m worried about you, fratello.”
“What are you worried about me for?” Romano raised a brow, drawing a circle in the notepad. “I’m alive, safe, sound, and well.”
“I know you are, but…” Feliciano paused, and once again there was silence around him, although only for a fleeting second. It sounded like a shrill ringing in his ears. Funny, because silence was supposed to be soundless. It doesn’t make any sense if silence created any sound at all.
“Get to the point, dumbass.”
“You’re not yourself lately, fratello.”
This time, the sentence did snap him out completely of his daze. “What in the fucking hell are you saying?”
“Ve… It’s true! Ludwig said so, Francis and Gilbert said so, Matthew said so, even Kiku agreed!”
“What is it about me that’s not myself?” Romano frowned, before he looked at the clock and mentally cursed. “Shit. I’m gonna be late for work. Let’s continue this later.”
“But…” Romano groaned and he heard a defeated sigh from the other side of the phone. “Okay, ve… Have a nice day, fratello.”
“Yeah, you too.”
His cappuccino had gone cold when he rushed back to the kitchen, but he couldn’t care less. He dumped the wasted cappuccino on the sink before snatching his coat and suitcase from the kitchen chair. It would be another boring day of work.
He knew he had to stick with this boring office work for a while until he got enough money and connection to be a full-time illustrator, because even though he was still doing promotion by selling the paints he did in his spare time and did part-time illustration jobs, he hadn’t had enough connection and money to afford a studio yet. So he just had to bear with it for a while.
It certainly wasn’t something he’d forgotten.
-o-
It was yet another boring, dull day at work. Romano groaned and glared at his plain white cubicle as if it was the reason why he had to spend a day in it. He heard a soft steps behind him and turned around to face his friend and co-worker.
Matthew smiled to him, a folder cradled in his arms and his glasses perched on his nose perfectly. “How are you doing?”
“Soooo good,” Romano snickered. “So good that I feel like I’m gonna die from boringness.” Matthew chuckled.
“But it seems like you have so much to do.”
“That’s the fucking point. So much to do that I’ve been spending all day sitting here with the damn calculator and stupid archives. I’m bored as hell.”
Pulling a spare desk chair from beside him, Matthew sat down, eyeing him with sympathy. “It does sound boring.”
“It fucking is.” Stretching his back and craning his neck, Romano let out a satisfied groan as he earned the relieving pop sound from both. “They work me to the bone just because I was absent for 2 weeks six months ago.” Yeah, he hadn’t seen the damn car coming, so deep in his thought he had been. But yet now when he thought back of that day, what exactly had he been thinking that he hadn’t paid attention to the street?
“You scared me out of my skin, you know,” Matthew said, his tone held no anger or blame, just concern. “And then you went and lost your memories too. Really, you have a talent for giving me a heart-attack.” He chuckled when Romano shot him a glare.
“It’s not like I wanted to lose my memories,” The Italian scoffed, twirling his pen between his fingers absently. “It just happened. And now I remember everything, so it’s fine, right?”
Matthew looked as if he wanted to say something on the last sentence, but he swallowed and fell quiet for a moment before replying, “I guess.”
Romano eyed him for a moment from the corner of his eye, before turning his eyes back to the pen on his hand, still twirled around. He contemplated between asking or not, before finally decided on the former. The curiosity, along with the nagging feeling about something he’d forgotten, refused to leave him alone. And a part of him also wanted to know what it was and why Feliciano said that.
“Hey, Matthew,” The Canadian lifted his eyes from the folder on his lap to look at him, eyebrows slightly raised.
“Yes?”
“Am I not myself lately?”
Violet eyes widened behind the glasses, and Matthew leaned forward slightly on his seat. “You remember? I mean, you realize?”
So what Feliciano said was true? Romano shook his head, keeping his gaze on the pen on his hand, twirling it around and around. “No. Feliciano told me few days ago.”
“I see…” A look of slight disappointment passed through Matthew’s face and he leaned back on his seat. “Well, I think you are not yourself lately indeed, Romano.”
“How’s so?” He tried to sound nonchalant, but he couldn’t ignore his heart beating fast inside his chest. He felt that the answer to that held something important, maybe that something that he’d forgotten.
‘How to say it…” Matthew fell silent for a moment, frowning slightly in concentration. About a minute passed by until he finally spoke again. “Like now. You’re not yourself.”
Resisting the urge to spin his chair around and give his friend a piece of his mind, Romano focused on the pen on his hand instead. “It’s not an answer, dumbass.”
“See? Your answer is not like you at all.” Matthew sounded desperate, and even without seeing him Romano could tell how his forehead creased slightly in his desperation. “Usually you wouldn’t answer like this. You would yell at me, or start throwing curses at me. This is just isn’t you at all.”
Ah…. So that was it.
“Since six months ago, you just seemed… so calm that it’s like you’re a different person.” Matthew’s grip on his folder tightened. It was apparent that he was trying to get his point across, afraid that something or Romano himself might interrupt him. But the said Italian was still not facing him, his face was still casted downward, focusing on the pen on his hand.
“You don’t curse as often, and when you do, it lacks your usual tone, like you’re saying it out of habit or… or out of obligation.”
He wanted to tell Matthew how silly it was, to think he cursed out of obligation, but he found himself speechless, trying to focus on the pen on his hand but failing.
“You don’t yell, you don’t get angry, you don’t get flustered, you just seem…” At this Matthew paused, as if it saddened him to just finish the sentence. He fell silent once again, but this time Romano too didn’t say anything.
He had lost count on how many times the pen had twirled, but on the next moment a hand had caught his wrist, successfully stopping him. He raised his face, slightly surprised, to see Matthew’s distressed eyes, his hand was still gripping Romano’s wrist.
“Stop doing that, please.”
He stared at the Canadian for a moment longer before putting the pen down, something on the firm tone told him to just listen to the usually-quiet man before him.
“You just seem devoid of those emotions.” Matthew finished his previous sentence with a defeated tone, loosening his grip on his friend’s wrist.
Romano watched as the Canadian took his folder from the chair he’d left and made a move to go back to his own cubicle, but then the words slipped his mouth before he was able to stop it.
“It’s because…”
That stopped Matthew on his track, turning around to look at him, who had turned his gaze back to the plain wall of his cubicle. He didn’t know what to say now. It just sounded really ridiculous. But Matthew was his best friend. He had already seen the most ridiculous parts of him, so he got nothing to lose anymore, right?
“I feel that someone once told me that I shouldn’t be like that,” Someone that he oddly couldn’t remember, although he remembered the words clearly, like it had just been said yesterday.
“Why are you so angry all the time? If only you’re a bit, just a bit, like your brother, then it won’t be so difficult all the time!”
“That I shouldn’t be angry, cursing, yelling, all the time.” He watched as Matthew’s violet eyes widened slightly at the reply. Romano shrugged nonchalantly, acting as if he didn’t care.
“That’s why I think I shouldn’t be.”
Although he did care. He did care because he didn’t know why those words affected him so much.
-o-
He came back home 15 minutes before 8, tired and not really in a good mood. At least he was too tired to wonder, like he did everyday, why he always so rushed, so determined to finish preparing dinner before 8, like he had the obligation to have dinner at 8.
It was just silly, really. Because considering his job, he had to be a flexible person, right?
It just didn’t make sense, and to add it up, he was being silly by obeying to what his mind unconsciously told him : prepare a decent dinner. So ignoring how tired he was, he threw the refrigerator door open and took out ingredients.
Always, everyday, even though he couldn’t explain it, he had to have dinner at 8.
He never told anyone that, not even Feliciano. Because it would sound ridiculous. He didn’t remember doing such thing before, when he was still living with his brother.
It would sound even more ridiculous because he always prepared dinner for two.
Maybe it was something that he’d forgotten?
-o-
He woke up in the middle of the night, eyes wide and strangely wet from the dream he’d just had, a dream that he had trouble remembering clearly.
Romano laid still on his bed, on his side of the bed, staring at the wall across him and feeling the tears slowly slid down his eyes to his cheek.
Fuck his memory. He was getting sick of this forgetting-things matter.
He could recall some bits and peaces of the dream earlier, and he somehow felt that it was something important. But then why was it? Why did he deem it important when the only thing he could remember clearly from the dream was the words.
“Why are you always so angry?!”
Somehow, those words dulled the painful anger inside him and restrained the cry so close to his tongue. Slowly, Romano reached for the other side of the bed.
“If only you’re a bit, just a bit, like your brother, then it won’t be so difficult all the time! You always make it difficult!”
Someone was shouting inside his dream, someone was angry, someone was upset, someone was disappointed in him.
Someone
who?
His fingers curled around the fabric of the bed cover, tightening and gripping it desperately. The cold tears had found their way down his cheeks and dripped on the cover of his pillow, staining it wet. Outside, the moon shone gently, silently, coldly,
so alone
like him
but he had always been, hadn’t he?
“Just… I’ll just take a break. I’m not breaking up with you, just… taking a break.”
He wanted to say someone’s name, to feel it on his tongue, to hear the echo in the silent room.
“I’m tired with this, Romano.”
But he didn’t know what that someone’s name was, or who that someone was.
-o-
He woke up in the morning with the same feeling as everyday. He’d forgotten something. He didn’t remember why he had tear stains on his face or why he had woken up clinging so desperately to the other side of the bed.
Romano felt like he was getting crazy of this.
He was tired of not remembering.
He wanted to scream at no one, demanding his memory to be given back, but then the echo in his head restrained him from doing so. So Romano settled on sitting up, staring blankly at the surprisingly dull line of sunlight on his bedroom’s floor.
Was it this dull? Sunlight was supposed to be warm and overflowed with life and energy.
Romano was tired of asking and getting no answer.
He was tired of not remembering.
He buried his head into his knees, someone’s name so close to the tip of his tongue,
but he couldn’t say it nonetheless
because he didn’t know.
-o-
Work was so busy today. He hadn’t had the chance to have a chat with Matthew, even though he was dying to know, to ask, if there was something wrong with him
because he couldn’t remember.
Then he went home and like always, like everyday, it mattered to arrive home before 8.
And like always, like everyday, even though he didn’t know why, he threw the refrigerator door open, taking ingredients out, and prepared dinner.
It was eating him inside, this feeling of helplessness. But then there was much more than that.
It no longer felt normal for him, to stand alone in the kitchen even though it hadn’t reached 8 in the evening. The silence not longer felt normal and the house oddly felt too big.
He wanted to say someone’s name but he choked on his breath and it was carried away by the silence, forgotten.
-o-
The seventh month. He had reached his limit.
It was 8 in the evening, and again there he was, sitting at the table, facing his dinner, facing the empty chair across him served with the same meal.
Dinner at 8, always at 8, had to be at 8.
Just sitting there and realizing that made him want to smile, but then his mind refused to give him someone’s name and his tongue refused to let it slid off.
It was supposed to be a happy occasion, dinner at 8, maybe.
Maybe.
He didn’t know.
He couldn’t remember.
He wanted to but he couldn’t.
“I want to remember,” He whispered to no one. “Please let me remember.” His voice bounded off the walls but left the house soundless nonetheless. Only the echo of the yelling and the shrill ringing of the soundless house answered him.
Then all of a sudden, the silence was broken by the sound of the door opening in a rush, and he lifted his head to the source of the noise.
He didn’t fail to notice that it wasn’t so soundless anymore.
-o-
Antonio hadn’t expected this.
True, he had left the town for 7 months. He would say only for 7 months, but when he’d learned what had happened in those seven months, he couldn’t say it.
He had been angry that night. Tired from work and wanted nothing more than to go back to his peaceful house and sleep. But that night Romano had been tired too, and it quickly escalated to tired and angry. He couldn’t even remember why they had been arguing in the first place.
It was a sheer coincidence that he met Feliciano and Ludwig on his way to his house, the pair were on their way home from late grocery. Upon seeing him, Feliciano wasted no time to tackle him in a hug, so tight he thought he would suffocate.
“Big brother Antonio!” The Italian exclaimed, voice filled with joy and relief, but Antonio didn’t miss the hint of desperation in it. “Where have you been, ve?”
“Long time no see, Feli,” He grinned and ruffled the other’s hair. He spotted Ludwig approaching and gave him a smile. “Sorry I’ve been gone for long.”
“Where have you been?” Feliciano repeated, releasing the older man and looked at him desperately. “Francis and Gilbert said they couldn’t get in contact with you. You just… just disappeared!”
“I… I lost my cellphone along the way,” Antonio admitted, anxiety started to grow in the pit of his stomach on the sight of Feliciano’s face. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but I did tell Gilbert and Francis and Romano.”
At that, Feliciano’s lower lip trembled. Antonio turned to Ludwig for help, he was utterly confused now, but the German also looked uneasy. “Did something happen?”
“Actually, something did,” Ludwig replied calmly, his stern blue eyes softened. He looked sympathetic, but it only made Antonio feel worse.
“What happened?”
“Fratello had an accident seven months ago, just several days after you disappeared,” Feliciano had taken a step back, but he still clung to Antonio’s coat with one hand.
Antonio felt a cold lump fell to the pit of his stomach. “W-what?! How is he?! Is he-“ He must looked terrible because Ludwig cringed, but Feliciano’s voice cut through his train of dreadful thoughts.
“He’s okay. The injuries weren’t severe, and he was released from the hospital in about two weeks,” It mustn’t be everything, because Feliciano still looked grim. Antonio suddenly had difficulty breathing.
“Big brother Antonio, why did you leave town?”
The question was so out of the blue, too sudden, that Antonio was taken aback. Even Ludwig seemed surprised. But the look in Feliciano’s eyes was unshakable. “Did something happen between you and fratello?”
“How did you know?”
“It’s only my guess,” Feliciano’s grip on his coat loosened just a bit. “Big brother Antonio, fratello lost his memories because of the accident,” He paused slightly on the sharp intake of breath from the Spaniard’s side. “But he’s recovered all of them. Almost all of them.”
The silence that fell between them was thick, even if it was only for a moment, because Antonio spoke again, his voice shaking slightly.
“But?”
“He still doesn’t remember about you.”
The night wind suddenly felt harsher and colder. Antonio was having difficulty processing what the other said.
Romano had lost his memories,
he’d gotten them back
but he didn’t remember about him.
“That’s not all,” Feliciano’s voice had lowered, and even though Antonio didn’t notice, Ludwig did notice that his tone had turned colder. He shuddered. Everyone might said that Romano was the over-protective one, but they didn’t know Feliciano could be too if he wanted, especially if that was about his brother.
“Fratello doesn’t yell, doesn’t get angry, and rarely swears since then. Matthew told me that fratello said, someone told him not to be like that, so he didn’t.”
Antonio couldn’t blame the accusing tone Feliciano had used, because the lump in his stomach had grown unbearable.
“Why are you so angry all the time?!”
“Let me see him.”
“If only you’re a bit, just a bit, like your brother, then it won’t be so difficult all the time! You always make it difficult!”
Feliciano released his hold on Antonio’s coat, his face had softened, and when he spoke his tone was warm.
“Maybe fratello doesn’t remember about you yet, but I can tell he’s waiting.” He smiled wistfully. “Go and see him, big brother Antonio.” He pushed his chest gently, cocking his head to the direction of his house, their house.
Antonio didn’t need to be told twice.
He whirled around and ran.
-o-
“Romano!”
He lifted his face and locked eyes with a pair of emerald eyes, desperate and worried. A tall man was standing on his doorway, messy brown curls and tan skin, his breath created a smoke from the cold.
He felt like he knew that color of the eyes, the color that radiated everything about earth and life, everything about the warm laughter and the feelings in those eyes. He recognized the voice, the warm timbre and the shake lacing on the edge of it, so similar to the one in his dream, to the one whose owner he was supposed to know.
He knew that face. He could almost picture it painted with a smile, warm and bright and everything that was the picture of the sun and the life themselves.
He knew this person.
On the next moment, a pair of strong arms were wrapped around him and he was enveloped in an embrace, strong and protective and familiar. He could smell the scent of the cold autumn outside, but also the spicy scent of the earth that was so familiar.
Yes, this person was the reason. The reason he always thought he’d forgotten something. The reason of his unexplainable habit of dinner.
The person still held him there desperately, like he was afraid that he would disappear. He could hear the soft, choked words the other was whispering.
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”
Dinner at 8, always.
Because that was the only time of the day when they could have meal together. Before 8, either of them hadn’t gotten back from work. After 8, both were too tired to do anything more than sleep.
“I’m so sorry, Roma.”
His name was…
“Antonio?”
-o-
It was his fault, all his.
True, they both had been tired, they had been angry. But that didn’t justify what he had said, what he had done after that.
He said those things that he should never said, those things he’d never truly meant. Romano’s expression after he said it that night…
He should’ve realized. He’d broken him.
But then his anger still had control over him, and he left.
“Just… I’ll just take a break. I’m not breaking up with you, just… taking a break.”
Antonio had never regretted something this much before.
“I’m tired with this, Romano.”
Yes, he hadn’t meant to leave permanently, he hadn’t meant to leave Romano for real. He had thought of it as only a trip to refresh himself, so he could clear his mind and have better thoughts.
He hadn’t meant to lose his cellphone on the way.
He hadn’t meant for this to happen.
Antonio could see from the way Romano looked at him when he’d just entered.
“Why are you so angry all the time? If only you’re a bit, just a bit, like your brother, then it won’t be so difficult all the time!”
People would say that using the word “breaking” was exaggerating, but he knew better. He’d broke the Italian, and neither of them knew how to fix it.
“It’s all my fault,” He whispered, hoping Romano would hear him, would at least understand that he meant what he said. If he wouldn’t forgive him, that was okay. Because he couldn’t forgive himself either. “I’m so sorry, Roma. I didn’t mean it, I swear. I didn’t mean a single thing I said that night.”
Then, slow but firm, he felt a pair of arms sneaked to his back, clutching onto him tightly. Romano buried his head in his chest and for the first time after those 7 months, he said it.
“Antonio you motherfucker, damn bastard…”
Antonio couldn’t be happier. He laughed shakily into Romano’s soft hair, relieved and thankful. Oh my God, thank you.
“You… You idiot, heartless asshole!” He felt Romano retracted his arms from his back and resorted to punch his chest, but he could tell it was half-hearted. “You left! You just… You just left!”
“I’m sorry,” Antonio tightened his arms around the smaller figure. He had made that mistake once. “I’m so very sorry, Romano.”
He didn’t want to let go again.
-o-
For the first time after 7 months, he felt free. At the sound of that voice he’d longed to hear, at the touch and the warmth that made him feel safe, Romano felt something that had weighed his heart and constricted his tongue, bounded him and all that he was, was released.
Yes, he remembered now, all of it.
Antonio. The silly, idiot, all-smiling-and-sunlight Antonio. The one man who had said he loved him, who had smiled to him like he never did to other people, who had accepted his sour attitude and insecurities.
The one who had expressed how he wanted him to be more like his brother.
And it hurt so much, because he had thought Antonio was different, that Antonio loved him the way he was, because Antonio had accepted him.
After that night, after Antonio left, he’d lost the only thing he could hold onto. What value did he have if even the only person in this world who had claimed that it was okay if he stayed the way he was, had grown tired of him?
“You just left, and… and… oh fucking hell, I hate you so much!”
“I know, I know…” Antonio sounded guilty and almost like a child who had made a little girl cry and didn’t know what to do about it. “I’m so sorry. You shouldn’t ever forgive me.”
“Shut up!” Romano shoved him on the chest, but Antonio held on. He glared at the taller man, feeling tears had started to form on his eyes, but he refused to let them fall. “Don’t you dare tell me what to do!”
Antonio blinked at him, looked slightly confused. “But…”
“You just left without giving me the chance to…” His pride be damned. He got nothing to lose, and it was rare for him to feel free like this, didn’t have to be bound his own emotions and thoughts. “To fucking apologize, you dumbass!”
“What for?” Looks like 7 months trip couldn’t change Antonio’s stupidity even a little.
“For being such a jerk!” Romano glared at him, his lips pursed into a thin line. “I…” His shoulders slumped down and he lowered his head slightly, biting away the tears. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize,” Antonio’s hand found its way to his face, gently wiping the fallen tears. “It’s not your fault, Romano.”
“It is,” Why did Antonio have to be so forgiving? “You were right, I’m such an ass.”
“Romano, please look at me.”
“I don’t wanna.”
A chuckle shook Antonio’s body lightly, and Romano felt the other’s warm hand tilted his chin gently.
Antonio’s eyes were warm, although they were still laced with guilt. He didn’t smile, and his eyes were sincere when he said, “I didn’t mean what I said. I was tired and angry and didn’t think straight. It’s my fault, not yours.”
Romano still refused to look at him, casting his eyes down instead. He hated how Antonio had to be so forgiving when it was apparent that it was his fault. “Why can’t you just agree that it’s my fault for once?” He could feel Antonio’s gaze at him, but he wouldn’t look at the Spaniard.
“Because I don’t think it is, Roma.” Antonio’s voice was firm but gentle, and goddamnit, he had been longing for it, he’d just realized. “We were both tired that night. It was only normal that we would argue. But it doesn’t justify me for saying those things to you.”
“You were right anyway, so no need to make a damn fuss out of it…” He trailed off, ignoring the sharp pain in his heart.
“I didn’t mean it,” Antonio patiently replied, his voice unwavering. Romano wondered how long the Spaniard would be this patient with him. Obviously, Antonio would give up and admit that he was really just an ass and left, again. He had to bite up another tears on the thought.
“It’s alright if you just be honest,” He put his hands on the other’s chest and pushed him away half-heartedly, but Antonio didn’t budge, keeping his arms around him.
“I am honest.” Antonio still didn’t smile as he brushed the strands of hair from his face. “I know you don’t believe me, Roma, and I don’t blame you for it. But please let me make you believe again.”
Should he give Antonio a chance again when he would get hurt eventually in the end? Life had taught him not to give himself a chance, not to give other people a chance. Admit that he was an ass, good-for-nothing bastard, and accept that people never needed him. That way, it wouldn’t hurt, not as much as being betrayed by the ones he loved and he thought loved him.
But then, those 7 months had proven to him that he’d fallen for Antonio much deeper than he had anticipated. Why?
Because he had believed in him.
Did he have a courage to believe once again?
-o-
“I don’t know…”
Antonio’s heart sunk almost instantly on the reply. Romano didn’t move, but he had put pressure on his hands that had found their way onto his chest once again, shoving Antonio away gently.
“Romano,”
“I don’t know about this, Antonio.” Romano shoved a bit harder and Antonio felt his grip loosened, the impact on the previous words turned his limbs to lead. “I just…” The Italian shook his head in distress. “I just don’t know.”
Silence fell thick between them. For once, Antonio was speechless.
People said there are mistakes that can’t be fixed, no matter what. There are ones that can’t be forgotten or forgiven. That was the nature of humans, that was what shaped humanity.
Maybe this was one of them.
-o-
He didn’t want to get hurt again.
He didn’t want to live without Antonio, without his smiles and his warmth and his love and acceptance.
But Antonio would grow tired of him one day, this time for real, and he would be left alone in the end, too broken to even pick up the pieces.
He was really full of contradiction, wasn’t he?
Why did Antonio have to look so shattered?
He’d made the right choice, Romano convinced himself. This way, neither of them would get hurt. It might hurt at first, but after time passed it would be no more.
Liar
Yes, he was a liar. Because he’d seen and felt and experienced, that in those 7 months, his life was only an empty shell of the former one, the one with Antonio. Who said that time could heal all wounds?
“I’ll come back tomorrow,” Antonio’s words snapped him out of his daze. Romano looked up at him, brows furrowed slightly. Antonio didn’t smile, but his expression was soft and wistful. “Please think about it. I’ll give you as much time as you need, but I’ll come again tomorrow.”
Antonio released him completely and seemed hesitant for a moment, before pressing a soft kiss to his head. Romano kept his head down, even after Antonio had retracted and he heard his footsteps echoing across the house.
He heard the sound of the front door opening, but then there was a pause and Antonio said,
“Let me make you dinner tomorrow, okay?”
He could tell from his voice alone that Antonio was smiling, and he wanted nothing but to lift his head and told him how he wanted everything to go back to the way they were before the fight, so he wouldn’t have the scar and the doubt and the contradiction.
But he didn’t want to get hurt again, to hear those words again, to see Antonio’s frustrated face again because he knew that he was the reason.
He heard the sound of the door closing and that was when he finally let himself break down, curling into himself and burying his head in his knees, sobbing silently.
The house was silence once again.
Maybe he had to get used to it, this time for real.
-o-
Antonio came the day after, an hour before 8. He brought grocery with him, and his smile was nervous.
“Hi, Roma!” He tried to sound cheerful, but he knew he must look very nervous because Romano didn’t even scowl. He just looked uneasy as he stepped aside to let Antonio enter.
The kitchen still seemed the same as before, and a wave of nostalgia rushed him as he threw glances around, absorbing the familiarity of the room. But along with the warmth that the reminiscence brought, there was a bitter feeling that stained the memory, because the fight that night had taken place there.
Putting the grocery bag on the counter, Antonio reached for his apron and found it still there, hung beside the refrigerator. Then for the first time since the night before, it hit him.
Romano never wore apron when he was cooking, and he didn’t remember about him. But he still kept it there nonetheless.
He had been waiting, even though he couldn’t remember.
The realization sent another painful twist down his stomach, and Antonio fought the urge to just turn around and pulled Romano in a hug, the one he wouldn’t let go ever again. But the silence around them was enough to stop him, so he resorted to taking out the groceries, turning his face away so Romano couldn’t see his expression.
The Italian had taken the seat on the kitchen chair, drumming his fingers lightly on the surface of the table. Antonio started to wash the vegetables, his mind strayed to the night before. He had called Francis that night, and his French friend had gladly provide him with a couch for the night, along with some ‘services’, in which he had listened to Antonio’s spluttered out regrets and guilt.
“True, there are mistakes that can’t be forgiven,”
He started to cut the tomatoes.
“But I believe, mon ami, that love can overcome all things.”
Francis and his love logic, Antonio couldn’t suppress a smile. But he didn’t deny that it indeed lightened his heart, even though only a little bit.
“So, where have you been?” Antonio blinked, letting the words registered in his mind before he replied.
“To my family’s house, and to Belgium and the Netherlands too.”
“I see…”
“How about you, Roma? Are you alright? How about your injuries?”
“It’s been 7 fucking months, you moron. They’ve all healed perfectly.”
The light and familiar conversation brought another wave of nostalgia to him. He knew he’d been away from this house, their home, for long enough, but he’d only truly realized it now.
He wanted to be back. To be by Romano’s side, made him smile and swear and blushed, spending time with him in this house that they owned together.
He didn’t know if he would ever be given the chance again.
-o-
Dinner was served, right several minutes before 8. Romano stared at the dishes before him, not a luxury one, but it was familiar and radiated home. Antonio sat down on the seat across him from the table.
Awkwardly, wordlessly, they started.
As soon as the taste reached his tongue, warm and somehow bittersweet feeling nestled on his chest. How long had Antonio become his home? The place where he belonged, the place where he was accepted, the place where he could feel safe?
Home wasn’t just this house anymore, he’d realized long ago, but the realization had just come to him again recently.
Home was where Antonio was. There had never been any real home for him until Antonio entered his life.
Could he ever live without Antonio again? Could he ever live without a home once again?
Would he succumb to his cowardice and lose the one place he had belonged, the one person who he had loved and for once had love him back?
-o-
When Romano put his fork down, Antonio had thought maybe there was something wrong with the food he cooked, and he had half hoped that Romano would start complaining like he always did.
But he was surprised to see tears dripping from the Italian’s eyes onto the surface of the table. On the next moment, he was on his feet. “Romano?!”
“Dammit,” The smaller man lowered his head and furiously wiped the tears with his palm. “Goddammit!”
“What’s wrong?” Antonio rushed to his side, kneeling down and gently pried his hand away from his face. “Have I done something wrong?”
“It’s scary,” It was almost inaudible, but Antonio heard it. He opened his mouth to ask but Romano had beat him to it. “But I can’t.”
“What do you mean?” Antonio cupped the other’s face in his hands, wiping the tears with his thumbs. “What is scary?”
“Don’t leave,” Romano had casted his eyes downward, but his words were firm and desperate, almost pleading. “I know you will eventually leave one day, seeing I’m such a pain in the ass, but…”
“No, Roma, I-“
“Don’t lie,” Romano shook his head, but didn’t pull away. “I don’t want you to lie, but I don’t want you to leave either. Why does it have to be so difficult?!”
I don’t want to get hurt again
Antonio threw any feelings that had restrained him to the wind and pulled the smaller man into his arms, holding him there tightly. He felt Romano’s cold tears dripped onto his shoulder, but he didn’t say anything. They stayed like that in silence for a moment, unmoving, until finally Antonio spoke, his voice firm but his tone gentle.
“I won’t leave, and I’m not lying,” This was the only chance he could fix it, if not everything, at least a bit of it. He prayed to God to please give him a chance once again. “I know I’ve hurt you. I know I’ve done something irreversible. I know there are mistakes that can’t be forgiven. But please Romano, please just believe this one word, if you can’t believe the rest.”
He heard no answer, but he received no resistance either, so he said it.
“I love you.”
He let the words sink in, trailing his hand until it found its way to the other’s hair.
“You and no one else. The real you.”
“Liar.”
“I’m not lying.”
“Don’t lie to just make me feel better.”
“I didn’t mean what I said that night.”
“Don’t lie.”
Antonio wanted to cry at how desperate Romano sounded. He wanted to believe but he was scared. He didn’t want to be lied to but he knew he would be hurt if he wasn’t.
“I’m not lying.”
He knew Romano still had trust in him, although it was just a very tiny bit, the remaining of the one he had broken.
“Please give me a chance, Romano. I wouldn’t hurt you ever again.”
He kissed the top of the Italian’s head softly.
“Please give me a chance.”
Slowly, surely, he felt the Romano’s hand on his back, clutching onto him, and he felt the other buried his head into his chest.
And he knew the nod he felt repressed on his chest was real.