[fic] scarred heart in hand [part i, final]
Title: Scarred Heart in Hand
Author/Artist: chromatic_coma @ animusia
Character(s)/Pairing(s): (in this chapter) France, Spain, Prussia, Ancient Egypt, Egypt, Greece, Turkey, South Italy ;; France/England, Spain/Romano, implied Turkey -> Egypt
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Friendship, Romance, Slice-of-Life, Angst
Warning(s): Kissing, Implied threesomes, Talk of (technically underage) Sex, Swearing, It's really long, Lack of Plot, Human names, etc.
Summary: Graduation really sneaks up on you; one minute you think that everything is right with the world and that nothing can ruin this for you, and the next you look at the calendar and find out you only have one more week with your closest friends. But sometimes graduation isn't the end, and sometimes it's not a new beginning either. Sometimes graduation just is what it is, and you have to figure the rest out for yourselves. Gauken Hetalia!AU fic
x-posted @ hetalia, inthreesome
Part I Chapter I - Part I Chapter II - Part I Chapter III - Part I Chapter IV - Part I Chapter V - Part I Chapter VI - Part II Chapter I - Part II Chapter II - Part II Chapter III - Part II Chapter IV - Part II Chapter V - Part II Chapter VI - Part II Final
Scarred Heart in Hand, Part I Final
It was dead silent in the room, so much so that the only thing Antonio would hear was the sound of white noise buzzing in his ear. He was lying on the floor, Francis and Gilbert to his sides, laying in such a manner that he imagined from above they would look like a circle, or something. No one was saying a word, and judging from the way Gilbert’s breathing sounded, he had fallen asleep.
“So,” Antonio started softly, trying to break the silence; Gilbert made a sudden noise that affirmed in the brunet’s mind he’d been sleeping. “Francis, have you heard anything from Arthur?”
It was touchy territory, and Antonio knew this, but he was hoping that the long lasting friendship slash brotherhood the trio had formed made it okay for him to inquire. Besides, the only way that Francis was going to get over Arthur’s leaving was to get used to talking about him again and to become adjusted to the idea that they were going to have to deal with the distance.
“Yes,” he murmured in response, his voice hollow and dry. “He made it to the school early this morning there, late last night here. He sent me an email. The man next to him on the flight snored loudly and chewed gum obnoxiously for the entirety of the ride.”
Gilbert snorted, “Must’ve been hell for him.”
“It was.”
The trio fell silent again.
“Hey, Francis?”
“Gilbert?”
“What does it mean when your heart pounds really loudly when you’re around someone?”
“What?” Francis sat up, and Antonio rolled over onto his stomach, both of them staring at Gilbert, who quirked an eyebrow.
“You heard…”
“Gilbert’s in love? Oh, dios mio, that’s excellent!”
“I am not in love!”
“Yes, you are,” Francis agreed. “That is the answer to your question.”
Gilbert paused for a moment and hummed, letting his eyes fall shut.
“Who is the lucky person?” Francis sing-songed, and Antonio was grateful to Gilbert for the distraction.
“No one! I’m not in love!”
Gilbert pouted and crossed his arms over his chest, causing Antonio and Francis to laugh.
“Hey,” Antonio started brightly, “do you know what we should do today?”
“Hm?”
“We should go to the museum!”
“Why the fuck would I do that?” Gilbert scowled. “This is my summer vacation!”
Antonio shrugged, explaining, “I few days ago I saw Heracles, Sadiq, and Gupta, and they told me Ms. Hassan had something set up in the museum that we should all go see.”
“What is it?”
“They didn’t tell me. It’s a surprise, apparently.”
“What’re our other options?” Gilbert grumbled.
“Well,” Francis replied, “we go there or we stay here and watch my ceiling crack.”
After another pause the trio shared a look, and almost in unison they all stood up and headed for the door.
There were a few other people in the museum when they got there, probably trying to escape the early July heat, and Antonio found that he recognized a few of them. Sitting in the children’s section of the library were the kids that he’d had to read to two years ago for a community service project, the same year Gilbert had to fix fences and Francis was sent to work in a soup kitchen. It was sort of funny, Antonio realized, because reading to the little kids was the reason he wanted to grow up and work at a daycare center. And, when he thought about it, he realized that Gilbert was going into engineering and architecture, and Francis into cooking and pastry arts. Looking back on them, Antonio decided that those punishments weren’t really punishments at all.
“That’s him, girls! That’s the little menace who was suggesting those filthy things as I walked by!”
Antonio was snapped out of his thoughts by the shrill voice of an old woman, and he followed the resident senior book club members’ gazes to Gilbert, standing to his right.
“Gilbert?” Francis asked, and the other laughed nervously, a hand rubbing at the back of his neck.
“He was doing dirty things with his mouth, and I swear he did it to insult me!” The woman accused, and behind her the babble of book club members got louder.
“Dirty things with his mouth…?” Francis repeated, and he smirked in a way that Antonio recognized as his ‘I’m devilishly sexy smile.’
“Was it something like this?” he continued, and he wrapped an arm around Gilbert’s shoulder. Francis leaned in slowly, to the elderly ladies’ collective horror, but Antonio was watching closely enough to see Francis flinch and hesitate. So, he did the only thing he could think to do.
He turned Gilbert around and kissed him passionately himself. From the corner of his eye, Antonio could see Francis exhale in relief.
The women shouted, then, and finally they drew the attention of the head librarian and museum curator, Amunet Hassan.
“What is going on here?” she asked in her warm, melodious, thickly and beautifully accented voice. Antonio heard himself and his friends all almost sigh, because they had discussed this before and had come to the consensus that she was definitely a MILF.
“These boys were being blasphemous and disrespectful! They should be thrown out!”
Antonio mused that the collection of old ladies nodding looked a lot like bobble head dolls going off, and had to resist the impulse to laugh.
“I apologize for their behavior,” Ms. Hassan replied calmly, “but I believe that kicking them out would be counterproductive. After all, and I’m sure you agree, these boys could use a bit more culture in their lives.”
“Well,” the leader of the pack agreed in her gruff, manly voice, “that is true.”
With a scowl, she gestured for her book club to move out, but not before giving Gilbert a dirty look. After all the women had gone, Ms. Hassan sighed.
“What were you thinking?”
“Uh, we weren’t?” Gilbert offered with a grin, and she shook her head softly.
“Please try not to cause a scene. I rather prefer my library peaceful.”
“We came here because Gupta told us that you had something special set up!”
Now the woman smiled, nodding and gesturing for them to follow her into the special exhibit room. It was a small room; the walls were painted a pristine shade of white and kept that way at all time, and there were a few light fixtures set up on sliding rails on the ceiling, so that they could be moved as they were needed to.
Currently the room was fuller than Antonio had ever seen it before, with all sorts of interesting things from clothing to paintings to textiles to pottery to sculptures, all neatly arranged around the room. Antonio spotted the usual trio of Heracles, Gupta, and Sadiq standing in front of a large painting on the other side of the room, squabbling.
“What is this…?” Francis murmured in awe, stepping into the room with bright eyes, excitedly taking everything in.
Ms. Hassan smiled, spreading her hands open and gesturing to the room, “My gift to you all. I could not help but notice how many distinct nationalities there were in your graduating class, and it occurred to me to honor those cultures by collecting at least one piece from each nation’s history.”
“Whoa,” Gilbert murmured appreciatively, catching sight of a sword kept in a glass case and staring at it in awe. “This is German, right?”
“Swedish,” she corrected, continuing, “I enlisted the help of Mr. Vargas and Ms. Karpusi to get this done, and we hope you all enjoy it. Gupta is in the back, if you have any questions.”
With that, the woman slipped back into the main library area, and left the trio to explore.
“Oh man, this is fucking awesome,” Gilbert murmured as he walked around, and Antonio almost expressed confusion; Gilbert wasn’t exactly known for loving the arts or history (unless it was in Ms. Karpusi’s class, as she was yet another MILF). Then he turned around, and when he saw Gilbert was still examining the Swedish sword, the words caught in his throat. Ah, that was it.
“Hey,” the albino said suddenly, “has either of you guys found the awesome German shit yet?”
Francis looked up and beckoned him over, “There’s something over here.”
Antonio could have sworn he heard a laugh in Francis’ tone, and when Gilbert scampered over to the corner where the blond was, he swore loudly, affirming his suspicion. It wasn’t until he’d gotten over there that he found out why.
“What the fuck is this?!” Gilbert was swearing, gesturing to a painting hanging on the wall with a small German flag underneath it acting as an identification card. The painting was of two women, a blonde with thick curls and a brunette with her hair braided up, sitting together and holding hands, their faces close enough that Antonio figured they were going to kiss soon.
“Italia und Germania,” Francis read, and judging by the way Gilbert winced, he’d completely butchered the accent. Francis shot him a glare.
“Painted by Friedrich Overbeck in 1828, in Munich.” Francis’ smirked was much more pronounced, now. “That’s in East Germany, isn’t it?”
Gilbert pretended he didn’t hear him, and stared intently at the painting, stroking his chin.
“I know she set this up for our graduation and all, but I get the feeling this ain’t for me.”
“Oh?”
Gilbert nodded, “Ludwig comes to every new exhibit once it opens; no doubt she’s dropping hints.”
Francis snorted, “More like anvils.”
“Yeah, well, Ludwig needs all the help he can get. Sixteen years old and the kid still hasn’t been laid.”
There was a brief moment of silence during which Antonio pitied Ludwig; he didn’t know what he was missing. With a soft chuckle, Antonio realized that Francis and Gilbert were probably thinking the same thing, and so he said, “I think it looks nice. They’re both really pretty.”
Gilbert furrowed his eyebrows and tilted his head a little. “Yeah… That Germania lady is sorta hot. I bet if she let her hair out and put on a dirndl, she’d be a sexy beer maid.”
Francis snorted and shook his head, walking away from the painting and around the other displays. Antonio followed his lead, wandering until he came upon an old uniform, dressed up on a mannequin and kept safe in a glass display. It was a matador outfit, complete from hat to shoes, made of rich crimson and gold fabrics and embellishments.
“Wow…” Antonio murmured, looking up and down the costume. He didn’t know very much about bullfighting, though his Abuela used to tell him stories about it when he was a little boy, and certainly he had never been so close to a real outfit. The material, he noticed, looked oddly stretchy, which is something he hadn’t expected.
A moment later Gilbert approached him, grinning from ear to ear.
“You look happy.”
“There’s a copy of a painting that was done of Old Fritz here!”
“Really?” Antonio blinked, thinking in his mind that Ms. Hassan must’ve been a psychic or something, to know about Gilbert’s obsession with the old Prussian King.
“Yeah! He was giving a flute concert or something, and it was so cool!” Gilbert paused, and then turned to look at the display he was now standing in front of.
“Whoa, this is pretty cool too.”
“Isn’t it?” Antonio grinned. Gilbert looked from the costume to Antonio and back, before giving a deep throated hum.
“You’d look sexy in this,” he decided finally, and Antonio almost caught himself flushing.
“You think?” the brunet asked with a grin, and Gilbert nodded.
“Definitely,” he replied with a feral smirk, “especially with that tight, round ass of yours.”
Now Antonio was sure he was flushing, only to be saved when someone else chimed in, “Better not let Lovino hear ya.”
“Hey, Sadiq.”
Sadiq nodded, grinning, “Hey. Wha’d ya think? Isn’t it cool?”
Antonio nodded, and even though Gilbert had rolled his eyes he could tell the other agreed.
“When Gupta’s mom first told us her idea, I thought it was sorta lame,” Sadiq confessed. “But she seemed so excited about it, and so did he…”
“Man,” Gilbert snorted. “You’re a pansy.”
Sadiq scowled, “And you’re not? Tell me, do all your attempts at flirting end with the other person almost dying, or is Matthew special?”
Antonio heard Gilbert growl, and wondered if this was the part where he was supposed to hold the other back. He decided against it, in time for Gilbert to snap, “Why you fuckin-!”
Now Antonio grabbed Gilbert by the arms, pulling him back as Sadiq smirked, “Aw, did I upset ya?”
“You’re a bastard,” Gilbert spat, “but you’re not worth the effort. Lemme go, Toni.”
Antonio heeded the request, in time for Heracles to happen upon them, already wearing an exasperated expression.
“What is going on?” he asked slowly, but there was nothing calm about his voice. “Sadiq?”
“Nothing,” he replied simply. “I’m going. My dad wanted me home early.”
And without any more pomp or circumstance, Sadiq strode out of the room. Heracles turned to Antonio with a frown, “What happened?”
“Uh… I’m not sure, exactly,” Antonio confessed, “but I think Sadiq and Gil are just frustrated because they’re too proud to fall in love.”
“What?!” Gilbert roared, crossing his arms over his chest violently. “Maybe that pansy is all touchy because sexy desert boy doesn’t like him, but I wouldn’t let something as stupid as love bother me.” He frowned, turning away from Antonio and muttering something about going to look at the Russian artwork before walking away.
“Gilbert…?”
“Don’t worry,” Heracles murmured calmly, and his smile managed to relax Antonio. “Sadiq’s a complete idiot, but he wouldn’t lay a fist on anyone in here. He likes Gupta too much to do that.”
Antonio wondered if maybe that was disdain he heard at the end of the other’s last sentence. “Heracles, do you like Gupta?”
Heracles raised an eyebrow, as if confused, but then he responded, “I can see why you’d think so.”
“You two are really close.”
Heracles nodded, “Gupta’s my best friend. Practically my brother…” He trailed off, before suddenly looking up intently with his sea foam green eyes, “I don’t love him.”
Antonio nodded, and then asked, because his curiosity got the best of him,
“Do you love anyone else, then?”
Heracles gave a devious little smile as answer, and Antonio returned it with a gentle pat on the shoulder.
“Good luck, then.”
“To you too. Lovino can be hard to deal with.”
Antonio nodded, but still he was smiling, “He’s worth it.”
Heracles gave the other a thoughtful look, which melted away into a smile and an offered hand. “Do you want to go back and join them?” he asked, gesturing towards Francis, Gilbert, and Gupta.
“Sure.”
When the two of them had gotten back over to where the others were, they found them standing in front of a great landscape painting, which depicted a large Church, with beautiful greenery, people, and animals in the foreground.
“Whoa,” Antonio murmured, as his eyes took in the expanse of beautiful shading and neutral tones. “Where’s this from?”
“England,” Gupta murmured pointedly, gesturing with a subtle nod of the head to Francis. Francis, who was staring at the canvas, his hands clasping behind his back in the picture of calmness, but his body too tense and his spine too straight for any of them to believe he was okay.
“Francis…?” Antonio asked, placing a hand on his shoulder, “You alright?”
“I’m fine,” the blond answered, in a tone that suggested he thought Antonio was crazy for asking. “Why?”
“Because, Franny,” Gilbert cut in, “You’ve been standing here and staring at this boring canvas for the past ten minutes. You’re not alright.”
Under the two concerned stares from his best friends, Francis cracked, sighing, “It’s nothing… it’s just…”
He trailed off, before turning to Gupta and asking, “Did Arthur see this before he left?”
The other nodded, and elaborated, “He helped create it.”
“What?”
Gupta shrugged, “We needed to identify all the nationalities, so my mother asked him for help. He became attached to the project, though, and stayed on to help.”
Francis took a moment to process the information, before turning back to the canvas with a soft chuckle, “That is just like him…”
The rest of the even passed uneventfully; Antonio, Francis, and Gilbert poked around the rest of the exhibit, before bidding Heracles and Gupta goodbye. As they left, Francis and Antonio were sure to thank Ms. Hassan and Ms. Karpusi for the work they’d done, and the women had bid them good summers (“And good luck, in college, boys, don’t spend all your time partying!” “Don’t worry, we will,” Gilbert had assured them).
The sun was setting when they had left, and the trio stood on the steps to the library, now, and Francis and Gilbert took the first step down. Antonio didn’t move.
“I’m… leaving tomorrow,” he started, breaking the silence with a heavy tone.
“We know.”
“I guess,” he continued ruefully, his voice shaking, “I guess this is goodbye…”
When Francis and Gilbert turned around, neither of them was surprised to see tears in his eyes. And his face, which was usually so bright and cheerful and full of life, was now dark as he tried to keep from breaking down.
Gilbert reached him first, pulling Antonio into his chest and pushing the other’s head down against his shoulder.
“Heh, you pansy,” he laughed softly, “Why’re you crying, huh?”
Antonio coughed into Gilbert’s shirt, shaking and unable to answer. Francis clicked his tongue, sliding his long fingers soothing through Antonio’s thick curls.
“It is our last day together…” the blond supplied, and Antonio exhaled deeply.
Gilbert shook his head, “Last day? Come on, guys, none of us is going off to die. We’ll be back together at Christmas Break, so quit being such girls.”
“W-we’ve never been apart for six months before…” Antonio murmured, and Gilbert sighed.
“Come on, Toni… don’t make it sound so hopeless!”
“He is right, Antonio. We are going to be fine.”
Antonio pulled away, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his palms, and laughed.
“I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to. It just sort of came out.”
Gilbert shrugged, “It’s fine. Just… don’t do it again.”
Antonio nodded, sniffling and wiping his snot off on his forearm with a sad smile. He looked at the others, and they looked back at him, the trio falling silent again. It was heavy and thick and Antonio so desperately wanted to find the right thing to say.
Nothing came to mind.
“So,” Francis murmured, “I am guessing you still have not packed.”
“Oh. Yeah, I haven’t started yet…”
Gilbert shrugged, “Then I guess it’s time you got home, Toni. See you soon?”
Antonio beamed, and hoped that widening his smile he could keep the tears at bay,
“Yeah, you will.”
Antonio, when he’d gotten home, had found his Abuela and cousin waiting for him, starting to go hungry. His Abuela had only smiled, insisting that they would not and could not eat without him on his last night at home.
That meal was probably the best one his Abuela had ever made, but he could hardly eat.
And then Antonio was in his room, a suitcase on his bed, laying open and empty, haunting him with its boring black interior.
He looked from the empty luggage to his closet, whose doors were wide open, to his bureau, with his boxer shorts poking out of it.
Then he reached for his nightstand and picked up his phone, hitting speed dial number 4 and pleading for the other to answer.
“Hello?”
“Lovino!”
“Fuck, Antonio, don’t shout into the phone!”
“Sorry, Lovi,” Antonio murmured into the phone, sitting down on his bed in the small spot not covered by any of this things or the suitcase. “I’m packing…”
There was silence from the other end of the line.
“Lovino…?”
“I’m here, bastard. Why did you call?”
“I… I wasn’t sure what to pack.” Antonio laughed, and the chuckle came out more forced than he had expected it would.
“Huh?”
“What should I pack, Lovi? Should I bring my red shirt?”
“Which one, idiot? Almost all your shirts are red!”
“Oh, good point. I guess I’ll take all of those, then.”
Antonio shifted the phone against his shoulder, reaching into the closet and pulling out a few hangers of red shirts, all his favorites. Before he could say anything else, he heard Lovino start again,
“W-Why did you call me for this…?”
“I need help, Lovino.”
“That’s stupid! You just… pack a few shirts and pants and lots of underwear! Oh, and some sweaters… for when it gets cold…”
Antonio snapped his fingers, not realizing Lovino could neither see nor hear the gesture, and turned back to his closet.
“I almost forgot that! See, Lovi, you are helping! Oh, wait, that’s funny…”
“What?”
“My favorite sweater is gone. You know, the dark blue one? I can’t find it.”
Lovino coughed really hard on the other end of the line.
“Lovi, are you okay?”
“I’m fine! I just… maybe you’re not looking hard enough! I’m sure your sweater is there, I mean, where else could it be, idiot?”
Antonio realized that Lovino had a point, and dug deeper in his closet.
“It’s not here…” He said finally, and Lovino sighed.
“Sorry… I mean, uh, it’ll turn up. Just take a different sweater for now.”
Antonio nodded, and then realized how stupid he must have looked, “Alright. What else?”
“Underwear. Lots of underwear.” Lovino insisted, and Antonio could almost imagine the other, lying on his bed and staring at the ceiling, cheeks flushed.
“Okay! Should I keep a pair here for you, in case you miss me?”
“What?!” The flush in Antonio’s mind’s eye got even deeper, and he laughed.
“I’m only teasing!”
“That was… a stupid joke, you bastard!”
Antonio grinned, tossing all his pairs of boxers into the suitcase, before taking one of them back out, leaving it in his underwear drawer.
“Sorry, Lovino,” he responded, walking over to his window and opening it up wide, looking out into the starry sky. “Where are you?”
“In my room…”
“Look out the window,” Antonio instructed softly, smiling.
“Hm? W-Why?” Antonio heard the sound of the other’s window being pulled open.
“Do you see all those stars?”
“Y-Yeah…”
Antonio sighed, “Whenever I miss you, I’ll look at those stars and imagine you looking at them, too. Is that okay?”
Lovino made a soft, choked noise of surprise. “…It’s fine…”
“And, you should do it too. When you miss me.” Antonio suggested simply.
“… I… I won’t miss you.”
“Lovi…”
For a second, there was no answer, and then Lovino spoke again,
“H-Hey, Antonio…?”
“Yes?”
“Promise me… you won’t find some hot girl or buff guy and fall in love with them. N-Not that I… care… but you’re dating me and…”
Antonio broke off Lovino’s nervous statement with a soft laugh.
“Silly Lovino. You really don’t know, do you?”
“H-Huh?”
“I love you.”
“I- I… I love you too, Antonio.”
Antonio beamed, “Aw, Lovi, I bet your face is all red now just like a tomat-”
“SHUT UP!”
Antonio laughed, and blew a kiss into the phone. A few moments later, Lovino blew one back, and he knew he was forgiven.
“Hey, Antonio, the old man is calling for me. I have to go…”
“Oh…” Antonio stopped smiling. “Alright. Goodnight, Lovi.”
“Wait.”
“Hm?”
“C-Can I see you tomorrow, before you go?”
“I have to leave early…”
“Please? I’ll wake up early!”
Antonio chuckled, “Aw… all right, Lovino. I’ll come see you before I go.”
“Good. You’d better, bastard…
“G-Goodnight…”
“Night, Lovi.”
Antonio blew another kiss into the phone, but by then Lovino had already hung up.
Francis looked at the clock: 9:57 PM. Which would mean that that it was almost 3:00 AM on Arthur’s side of the ocean, and therefore a very inappropriate time to make a phone call. Especially because it was very likely Arthur’s internal clock was not properly adjusted, and so waking him up would be a horrible thing to do.
Francis almost felt guilty for entertaining the thought of constantly disrupting Arthur’s sleep, so that the other would never be able to adjust to British time. As appealing as it sounded, that was far too selfish.
Still, Francis wanted to talk to him, to be able to say something. So, even though it was not the same, he stood and started up his computer, ready to send the other an email.
Dear Arthur, he started once the internet had opened up,
How have you been? Have you settled in yet? Are your roommates interesting people? Do you even have roommates? When do your classes begin, and what does your schedule look like?
Please forgive my barrage of questions; it has only been a few days, but it feels like I’ve been without you for a long time. Which is funny, because I rarely spent very much time with you even when you were here before this year. I never knew how much I would regret that.
Life here is just the same as it was when you left. Everything is moving so slowly, and then there are sudden moments when it feels like everything picks up speed and zooms at us. We saw Ms. Hassan’s exhibit today, and Gupta told me that you helped with it. I loved it, mon cher. I could imagine you, pouring yourself into researching, thinking hard about each person and what they would have loved to see. I especially loved what you picked out for me; I have always adored the story in Renoir’s paintings, and that young girl was adorable. And the few hours I spent in there felt slow and magical and right.
And then we walked out and Antonio reminded us that he is leaving tomorrow, and everything sped up again, unnaturally. Time is obscenely fickle; I wish she would pick a steady pace and move at it until my semester starts, and that for me, that pace would be quick.
You are adorable. They say that absence makes the heart grow fonder, and I do not think that they have ever been more right. I hope you are doing well. I miss you.
Love, Francis.
He hit send without proofreading the email, knowing that if he did he would end up changing whatever embarrassed him. Francis did not have to worry about that too much, though, because once he had sent it off an instant messaging window popped open.
Senor Carriedo: Hey, Francis.
Francis smiled, clicking in the box and typing,
La Vie En Rose: Hello
Senor Carriedo: How are you?
La Vie En Rose: Good. I just sent Arthur an email.
Senor Carriedo: Aw… You miss him, don’t you?
Senor Carriedo: I think I know how you feel, a little. I already miss Lovi…
La Vie En Rose: At least you and Lovino will remain in the same time zone.
Senor Carriedo: …
La Vie En Rose: I apologize. That was not supposed to come out as caustic as it did.
Senor Carriedo: It’s fine…
La Vie En Rose: Antonio, no. I’m sorry.
Senor Carriedo: *shrug* It’s fine, Francis. It’s not the same.
La Vie En Rose: Perhaps not, but you still have the right to be upset.
Senor Carriedo: ... A few days ago, Lovi told me he was going to apply to my school.
Senor Carriedo: And that makes me so happy, but… What if it’s not right for him?
Senor Carriedo: Lovi wants to be an artist, and he would do better at an art school…
La Vie En Rose: Did you ask him to apply to your school?
Senor Carriedo: No…
La Vie En Rose: Then you have to respect his choice, Antonio. Perhaps you are not the only reason he is applying there.
La Vie En Rose: And if you are, you should take it in stride. He chose you for a reason.
Senor Carriedo: Thank you.
La Vie En Rose: Not a problem.
La Vie En Rose: Are you packed yet?
Senor Carriedo: Uh, almost ^^;
Francis chuckled, shaking his head. In the corner of his screen, a new window popped up.
La Vie En Rose: Oh, look, Gilbert is online. Shall we invite him?
Senor Carriedo: Sure!
Awesome Prussian has joined the chat
Senor Carriedo: Hey, Gilbert.
Awesome Prussian: Toni, Franny, wassup?
La Vie En Rose: We were lamenting about our long distant love lives. Speaking of which, who is your special someone, Gilbert?
Awesome Prussian: no 1. i fly solo.
Senor Carriedo: That’s not what it sounded like earlier~
Awesome Prussian: shut up
La Vie En Rose: Oh, me thinks the lady doth protest too much.
Awesome Prussian: whore u callin a lady?
La Vie En Rose: *winks*
Awesome Prussian: fff, well, ur wrong. love is 2 sisy 4 me
Senor Carriedo: Whatever you say~ *cough*Matthew*cough*
Awesome Prussian: >:|
La Vie En Rose: *patpat* Still sailing down De Nile, Gilbert?
Awesome Prussian: i h8 u guys. I signed on 2 say bye 2 Toni, and u fuckers pissed me off.
Awesome Prussian: i’m leavin.
Senor Carriedo: Wait, Gilbert!
Senor Carriedo: …Goodnight.
Awesome Prussian: *sigh* night, Toni. g-luck in the real world.
La Vie En Rose: College is not the “real world”
Awesome Prussian: might as well be, the way people talk bout it. nighty night!
Awesome Prussian has logged off.
Senor Carriedo: Night, Gil…
La Vie En Rose: I think it is time you went to bed as well, Antonio.
Senor Carriedo: Yeah… is it silly that I don’t want to?
La Vie En Rose: Not at all.
La Vie En Rose: Sadly, we must all do things we do not like.
La Vie En Rose: *kisses forehead*
Senor Carriedo: Yeah… Goodnight, Francis.
La Vie En Rose: Goodnight :)
Senor Carriedo: I love you…
La Vie En Rose: I love you too, querido ;)
Senor Carriedo: :)
Senor Carriedo has logged off.
La Vie En Rose has logged off.
Francis closed his internet browser and shut off his computer, before going through his nightly rituals quietly and tucking himself into bed. All the while, there was a smile on his face, a warmth in his heart, which never faded.
“Antonio, Gilbert…” he murmured, letting his eyes fall shut and feeling their bodies flank his sides as they had so many times in that very bed.
And that was when he knew, as far apart as they soon would be, they would never be alone.
End
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A/N: There is the end of the first part of Scarred Heart in Hand. Endless thanks go out to those of you who read and commented regularly; it means so much to me that you guys are enjoying this fic I worked so very hard on.
Part 2 takes place after a ten-year time skip, and I'll be sure to start posting that soon. Again, thank you all so, so much so reading, and especially to those of you who've left me feedback. You're all amazing! ♥
Author/Artist: chromatic_coma @ animusia
Character(s)/Pairing(s): (in this chapter) France, Spain, Prussia, Ancient Egypt, Egypt, Greece, Turkey, South Italy ;; France/England, Spain/Romano, implied Turkey -> Egypt
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Friendship, Romance, Slice-of-Life, Angst
Warning(s): Kissing, Implied threesomes, Talk of (technically underage) Sex, Swearing, It's really long, Lack of Plot, Human names, etc.
Summary: Graduation really sneaks up on you; one minute you think that everything is right with the world and that nothing can ruin this for you, and the next you look at the calendar and find out you only have one more week with your closest friends. But sometimes graduation isn't the end, and sometimes it's not a new beginning either. Sometimes graduation just is what it is, and you have to figure the rest out for yourselves. Gauken Hetalia!AU fic
x-posted @ hetalia, inthreesome
Part I Chapter I - Part I Chapter II - Part I Chapter III - Part I Chapter IV - Part I Chapter V - Part I Chapter VI - Part II Chapter I - Part II Chapter II - Part II Chapter III - Part II Chapter IV - Part II Chapter V - Part II Chapter VI - Part II Final
Scarred Heart in Hand, Part I Final
It was dead silent in the room, so much so that the only thing Antonio would hear was the sound of white noise buzzing in his ear. He was lying on the floor, Francis and Gilbert to his sides, laying in such a manner that he imagined from above they would look like a circle, or something. No one was saying a word, and judging from the way Gilbert’s breathing sounded, he had fallen asleep.
“So,” Antonio started softly, trying to break the silence; Gilbert made a sudden noise that affirmed in the brunet’s mind he’d been sleeping. “Francis, have you heard anything from Arthur?”
It was touchy territory, and Antonio knew this, but he was hoping that the long lasting friendship slash brotherhood the trio had formed made it okay for him to inquire. Besides, the only way that Francis was going to get over Arthur’s leaving was to get used to talking about him again and to become adjusted to the idea that they were going to have to deal with the distance.
“Yes,” he murmured in response, his voice hollow and dry. “He made it to the school early this morning there, late last night here. He sent me an email. The man next to him on the flight snored loudly and chewed gum obnoxiously for the entirety of the ride.”
Gilbert snorted, “Must’ve been hell for him.”
“It was.”
The trio fell silent again.
“Hey, Francis?”
“Gilbert?”
“What does it mean when your heart pounds really loudly when you’re around someone?”
“What?” Francis sat up, and Antonio rolled over onto his stomach, both of them staring at Gilbert, who quirked an eyebrow.
“You heard…”
“Gilbert’s in love? Oh, dios mio, that’s excellent!”
“I am not in love!”
“Yes, you are,” Francis agreed. “That is the answer to your question.”
Gilbert paused for a moment and hummed, letting his eyes fall shut.
“Who is the lucky person?” Francis sing-songed, and Antonio was grateful to Gilbert for the distraction.
“No one! I’m not in love!”
Gilbert pouted and crossed his arms over his chest, causing Antonio and Francis to laugh.
“Hey,” Antonio started brightly, “do you know what we should do today?”
“Hm?”
“We should go to the museum!”
“Why the fuck would I do that?” Gilbert scowled. “This is my summer vacation!”
Antonio shrugged, explaining, “I few days ago I saw Heracles, Sadiq, and Gupta, and they told me Ms. Hassan had something set up in the museum that we should all go see.”
“What is it?”
“They didn’t tell me. It’s a surprise, apparently.”
“What’re our other options?” Gilbert grumbled.
“Well,” Francis replied, “we go there or we stay here and watch my ceiling crack.”
After another pause the trio shared a look, and almost in unison they all stood up and headed for the door.
There were a few other people in the museum when they got there, probably trying to escape the early July heat, and Antonio found that he recognized a few of them. Sitting in the children’s section of the library were the kids that he’d had to read to two years ago for a community service project, the same year Gilbert had to fix fences and Francis was sent to work in a soup kitchen. It was sort of funny, Antonio realized, because reading to the little kids was the reason he wanted to grow up and work at a daycare center. And, when he thought about it, he realized that Gilbert was going into engineering and architecture, and Francis into cooking and pastry arts. Looking back on them, Antonio decided that those punishments weren’t really punishments at all.
“That’s him, girls! That’s the little menace who was suggesting those filthy things as I walked by!”
Antonio was snapped out of his thoughts by the shrill voice of an old woman, and he followed the resident senior book club members’ gazes to Gilbert, standing to his right.
“Gilbert?” Francis asked, and the other laughed nervously, a hand rubbing at the back of his neck.
“He was doing dirty things with his mouth, and I swear he did it to insult me!” The woman accused, and behind her the babble of book club members got louder.
“Dirty things with his mouth…?” Francis repeated, and he smirked in a way that Antonio recognized as his ‘I’m devilishly sexy smile.’
“Was it something like this?” he continued, and he wrapped an arm around Gilbert’s shoulder. Francis leaned in slowly, to the elderly ladies’ collective horror, but Antonio was watching closely enough to see Francis flinch and hesitate. So, he did the only thing he could think to do.
He turned Gilbert around and kissed him passionately himself. From the corner of his eye, Antonio could see Francis exhale in relief.
The women shouted, then, and finally they drew the attention of the head librarian and museum curator, Amunet Hassan.
“What is going on here?” she asked in her warm, melodious, thickly and beautifully accented voice. Antonio heard himself and his friends all almost sigh, because they had discussed this before and had come to the consensus that she was definitely a MILF.
“These boys were being blasphemous and disrespectful! They should be thrown out!”
Antonio mused that the collection of old ladies nodding looked a lot like bobble head dolls going off, and had to resist the impulse to laugh.
“I apologize for their behavior,” Ms. Hassan replied calmly, “but I believe that kicking them out would be counterproductive. After all, and I’m sure you agree, these boys could use a bit more culture in their lives.”
“Well,” the leader of the pack agreed in her gruff, manly voice, “that is true.”
With a scowl, she gestured for her book club to move out, but not before giving Gilbert a dirty look. After all the women had gone, Ms. Hassan sighed.
“What were you thinking?”
“Uh, we weren’t?” Gilbert offered with a grin, and she shook her head softly.
“Please try not to cause a scene. I rather prefer my library peaceful.”
“We came here because Gupta told us that you had something special set up!”
Now the woman smiled, nodding and gesturing for them to follow her into the special exhibit room. It was a small room; the walls were painted a pristine shade of white and kept that way at all time, and there were a few light fixtures set up on sliding rails on the ceiling, so that they could be moved as they were needed to.
Currently the room was fuller than Antonio had ever seen it before, with all sorts of interesting things from clothing to paintings to textiles to pottery to sculptures, all neatly arranged around the room. Antonio spotted the usual trio of Heracles, Gupta, and Sadiq standing in front of a large painting on the other side of the room, squabbling.
“What is this…?” Francis murmured in awe, stepping into the room with bright eyes, excitedly taking everything in.
Ms. Hassan smiled, spreading her hands open and gesturing to the room, “My gift to you all. I could not help but notice how many distinct nationalities there were in your graduating class, and it occurred to me to honor those cultures by collecting at least one piece from each nation’s history.”
“Whoa,” Gilbert murmured appreciatively, catching sight of a sword kept in a glass case and staring at it in awe. “This is German, right?”
“Swedish,” she corrected, continuing, “I enlisted the help of Mr. Vargas and Ms. Karpusi to get this done, and we hope you all enjoy it. Gupta is in the back, if you have any questions.”
With that, the woman slipped back into the main library area, and left the trio to explore.
“Oh man, this is fucking awesome,” Gilbert murmured as he walked around, and Antonio almost expressed confusion; Gilbert wasn’t exactly known for loving the arts or history (unless it was in Ms. Karpusi’s class, as she was yet another MILF). Then he turned around, and when he saw Gilbert was still examining the Swedish sword, the words caught in his throat. Ah, that was it.
“Hey,” the albino said suddenly, “has either of you guys found the awesome German shit yet?”
Francis looked up and beckoned him over, “There’s something over here.”
Antonio could have sworn he heard a laugh in Francis’ tone, and when Gilbert scampered over to the corner where the blond was, he swore loudly, affirming his suspicion. It wasn’t until he’d gotten over there that he found out why.
“What the fuck is this?!” Gilbert was swearing, gesturing to a painting hanging on the wall with a small German flag underneath it acting as an identification card. The painting was of two women, a blonde with thick curls and a brunette with her hair braided up, sitting together and holding hands, their faces close enough that Antonio figured they were going to kiss soon.
“Italia und Germania,” Francis read, and judging by the way Gilbert winced, he’d completely butchered the accent. Francis shot him a glare.
“Painted by Friedrich Overbeck in 1828, in Munich.” Francis’ smirked was much more pronounced, now. “That’s in East Germany, isn’t it?”
Gilbert pretended he didn’t hear him, and stared intently at the painting, stroking his chin.
“I know she set this up for our graduation and all, but I get the feeling this ain’t for me.”
“Oh?”
Gilbert nodded, “Ludwig comes to every new exhibit once it opens; no doubt she’s dropping hints.”
Francis snorted, “More like anvils.”
“Yeah, well, Ludwig needs all the help he can get. Sixteen years old and the kid still hasn’t been laid.”
There was a brief moment of silence during which Antonio pitied Ludwig; he didn’t know what he was missing. With a soft chuckle, Antonio realized that Francis and Gilbert were probably thinking the same thing, and so he said, “I think it looks nice. They’re both really pretty.”
Gilbert furrowed his eyebrows and tilted his head a little. “Yeah… That Germania lady is sorta hot. I bet if she let her hair out and put on a dirndl, she’d be a sexy beer maid.”
Francis snorted and shook his head, walking away from the painting and around the other displays. Antonio followed his lead, wandering until he came upon an old uniform, dressed up on a mannequin and kept safe in a glass display. It was a matador outfit, complete from hat to shoes, made of rich crimson and gold fabrics and embellishments.
“Wow…” Antonio murmured, looking up and down the costume. He didn’t know very much about bullfighting, though his Abuela used to tell him stories about it when he was a little boy, and certainly he had never been so close to a real outfit. The material, he noticed, looked oddly stretchy, which is something he hadn’t expected.
A moment later Gilbert approached him, grinning from ear to ear.
“You look happy.”
“There’s a copy of a painting that was done of Old Fritz here!”
“Really?” Antonio blinked, thinking in his mind that Ms. Hassan must’ve been a psychic or something, to know about Gilbert’s obsession with the old Prussian King.
“Yeah! He was giving a flute concert or something, and it was so cool!” Gilbert paused, and then turned to look at the display he was now standing in front of.
“Whoa, this is pretty cool too.”
“Isn’t it?” Antonio grinned. Gilbert looked from the costume to Antonio and back, before giving a deep throated hum.
“You’d look sexy in this,” he decided finally, and Antonio almost caught himself flushing.
“You think?” the brunet asked with a grin, and Gilbert nodded.
“Definitely,” he replied with a feral smirk, “especially with that tight, round ass of yours.”
Now Antonio was sure he was flushing, only to be saved when someone else chimed in, “Better not let Lovino hear ya.”
“Hey, Sadiq.”
Sadiq nodded, grinning, “Hey. Wha’d ya think? Isn’t it cool?”
Antonio nodded, and even though Gilbert had rolled his eyes he could tell the other agreed.
“When Gupta’s mom first told us her idea, I thought it was sorta lame,” Sadiq confessed. “But she seemed so excited about it, and so did he…”
“Man,” Gilbert snorted. “You’re a pansy.”
Sadiq scowled, “And you’re not? Tell me, do all your attempts at flirting end with the other person almost dying, or is Matthew special?”
Antonio heard Gilbert growl, and wondered if this was the part where he was supposed to hold the other back. He decided against it, in time for Gilbert to snap, “Why you fuckin-!”
Now Antonio grabbed Gilbert by the arms, pulling him back as Sadiq smirked, “Aw, did I upset ya?”
“You’re a bastard,” Gilbert spat, “but you’re not worth the effort. Lemme go, Toni.”
Antonio heeded the request, in time for Heracles to happen upon them, already wearing an exasperated expression.
“What is going on?” he asked slowly, but there was nothing calm about his voice. “Sadiq?”
“Nothing,” he replied simply. “I’m going. My dad wanted me home early.”
And without any more pomp or circumstance, Sadiq strode out of the room. Heracles turned to Antonio with a frown, “What happened?”
“Uh… I’m not sure, exactly,” Antonio confessed, “but I think Sadiq and Gil are just frustrated because they’re too proud to fall in love.”
“What?!” Gilbert roared, crossing his arms over his chest violently. “Maybe that pansy is all touchy because sexy desert boy doesn’t like him, but I wouldn’t let something as stupid as love bother me.” He frowned, turning away from Antonio and muttering something about going to look at the Russian artwork before walking away.
“Gilbert…?”
“Don’t worry,” Heracles murmured calmly, and his smile managed to relax Antonio. “Sadiq’s a complete idiot, but he wouldn’t lay a fist on anyone in here. He likes Gupta too much to do that.”
Antonio wondered if maybe that was disdain he heard at the end of the other’s last sentence. “Heracles, do you like Gupta?”
Heracles raised an eyebrow, as if confused, but then he responded, “I can see why you’d think so.”
“You two are really close.”
Heracles nodded, “Gupta’s my best friend. Practically my brother…” He trailed off, before suddenly looking up intently with his sea foam green eyes, “I don’t love him.”
Antonio nodded, and then asked, because his curiosity got the best of him,
“Do you love anyone else, then?”
Heracles gave a devious little smile as answer, and Antonio returned it with a gentle pat on the shoulder.
“Good luck, then.”
“To you too. Lovino can be hard to deal with.”
Antonio nodded, but still he was smiling, “He’s worth it.”
Heracles gave the other a thoughtful look, which melted away into a smile and an offered hand. “Do you want to go back and join them?” he asked, gesturing towards Francis, Gilbert, and Gupta.
“Sure.”
When the two of them had gotten back over to where the others were, they found them standing in front of a great landscape painting, which depicted a large Church, with beautiful greenery, people, and animals in the foreground.
“Whoa,” Antonio murmured, as his eyes took in the expanse of beautiful shading and neutral tones. “Where’s this from?”
“England,” Gupta murmured pointedly, gesturing with a subtle nod of the head to Francis. Francis, who was staring at the canvas, his hands clasping behind his back in the picture of calmness, but his body too tense and his spine too straight for any of them to believe he was okay.
“Francis…?” Antonio asked, placing a hand on his shoulder, “You alright?”
“I’m fine,” the blond answered, in a tone that suggested he thought Antonio was crazy for asking. “Why?”
“Because, Franny,” Gilbert cut in, “You’ve been standing here and staring at this boring canvas for the past ten minutes. You’re not alright.”
Under the two concerned stares from his best friends, Francis cracked, sighing, “It’s nothing… it’s just…”
He trailed off, before turning to Gupta and asking, “Did Arthur see this before he left?”
The other nodded, and elaborated, “He helped create it.”
“What?”
Gupta shrugged, “We needed to identify all the nationalities, so my mother asked him for help. He became attached to the project, though, and stayed on to help.”
Francis took a moment to process the information, before turning back to the canvas with a soft chuckle, “That is just like him…”
The rest of the even passed uneventfully; Antonio, Francis, and Gilbert poked around the rest of the exhibit, before bidding Heracles and Gupta goodbye. As they left, Francis and Antonio were sure to thank Ms. Hassan and Ms. Karpusi for the work they’d done, and the women had bid them good summers (“And good luck, in college, boys, don’t spend all your time partying!” “Don’t worry, we will,” Gilbert had assured them).
The sun was setting when they had left, and the trio stood on the steps to the library, now, and Francis and Gilbert took the first step down. Antonio didn’t move.
“I’m… leaving tomorrow,” he started, breaking the silence with a heavy tone.
“We know.”
“I guess,” he continued ruefully, his voice shaking, “I guess this is goodbye…”
When Francis and Gilbert turned around, neither of them was surprised to see tears in his eyes. And his face, which was usually so bright and cheerful and full of life, was now dark as he tried to keep from breaking down.
Gilbert reached him first, pulling Antonio into his chest and pushing the other’s head down against his shoulder.
“Heh, you pansy,” he laughed softly, “Why’re you crying, huh?”
Antonio coughed into Gilbert’s shirt, shaking and unable to answer. Francis clicked his tongue, sliding his long fingers soothing through Antonio’s thick curls.
“It is our last day together…” the blond supplied, and Antonio exhaled deeply.
Gilbert shook his head, “Last day? Come on, guys, none of us is going off to die. We’ll be back together at Christmas Break, so quit being such girls.”
“W-we’ve never been apart for six months before…” Antonio murmured, and Gilbert sighed.
“Come on, Toni… don’t make it sound so hopeless!”
“He is right, Antonio. We are going to be fine.”
Antonio pulled away, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his palms, and laughed.
“I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to. It just sort of came out.”
Gilbert shrugged, “It’s fine. Just… don’t do it again.”
Antonio nodded, sniffling and wiping his snot off on his forearm with a sad smile. He looked at the others, and they looked back at him, the trio falling silent again. It was heavy and thick and Antonio so desperately wanted to find the right thing to say.
Nothing came to mind.
“So,” Francis murmured, “I am guessing you still have not packed.”
“Oh. Yeah, I haven’t started yet…”
Gilbert shrugged, “Then I guess it’s time you got home, Toni. See you soon?”
Antonio beamed, and hoped that widening his smile he could keep the tears at bay,
“Yeah, you will.”
Antonio, when he’d gotten home, had found his Abuela and cousin waiting for him, starting to go hungry. His Abuela had only smiled, insisting that they would not and could not eat without him on his last night at home.
That meal was probably the best one his Abuela had ever made, but he could hardly eat.
And then Antonio was in his room, a suitcase on his bed, laying open and empty, haunting him with its boring black interior.
He looked from the empty luggage to his closet, whose doors were wide open, to his bureau, with his boxer shorts poking out of it.
Then he reached for his nightstand and picked up his phone, hitting speed dial number 4 and pleading for the other to answer.
“Hello?”
“Lovino!”
“Fuck, Antonio, don’t shout into the phone!”
“Sorry, Lovi,” Antonio murmured into the phone, sitting down on his bed in the small spot not covered by any of this things or the suitcase. “I’m packing…”
There was silence from the other end of the line.
“Lovino…?”
“I’m here, bastard. Why did you call?”
“I… I wasn’t sure what to pack.” Antonio laughed, and the chuckle came out more forced than he had expected it would.
“Huh?”
“What should I pack, Lovi? Should I bring my red shirt?”
“Which one, idiot? Almost all your shirts are red!”
“Oh, good point. I guess I’ll take all of those, then.”
Antonio shifted the phone against his shoulder, reaching into the closet and pulling out a few hangers of red shirts, all his favorites. Before he could say anything else, he heard Lovino start again,
“W-Why did you call me for this…?”
“I need help, Lovino.”
“That’s stupid! You just… pack a few shirts and pants and lots of underwear! Oh, and some sweaters… for when it gets cold…”
Antonio snapped his fingers, not realizing Lovino could neither see nor hear the gesture, and turned back to his closet.
“I almost forgot that! See, Lovi, you are helping! Oh, wait, that’s funny…”
“What?”
“My favorite sweater is gone. You know, the dark blue one? I can’t find it.”
Lovino coughed really hard on the other end of the line.
“Lovi, are you okay?”
“I’m fine! I just… maybe you’re not looking hard enough! I’m sure your sweater is there, I mean, where else could it be, idiot?”
Antonio realized that Lovino had a point, and dug deeper in his closet.
“It’s not here…” He said finally, and Lovino sighed.
“Sorry… I mean, uh, it’ll turn up. Just take a different sweater for now.”
Antonio nodded, and then realized how stupid he must have looked, “Alright. What else?”
“Underwear. Lots of underwear.” Lovino insisted, and Antonio could almost imagine the other, lying on his bed and staring at the ceiling, cheeks flushed.
“Okay! Should I keep a pair here for you, in case you miss me?”
“What?!” The flush in Antonio’s mind’s eye got even deeper, and he laughed.
“I’m only teasing!”
“That was… a stupid joke, you bastard!”
Antonio grinned, tossing all his pairs of boxers into the suitcase, before taking one of them back out, leaving it in his underwear drawer.
“Sorry, Lovino,” he responded, walking over to his window and opening it up wide, looking out into the starry sky. “Where are you?”
“In my room…”
“Look out the window,” Antonio instructed softly, smiling.
“Hm? W-Why?” Antonio heard the sound of the other’s window being pulled open.
“Do you see all those stars?”
“Y-Yeah…”
Antonio sighed, “Whenever I miss you, I’ll look at those stars and imagine you looking at them, too. Is that okay?”
Lovino made a soft, choked noise of surprise. “…It’s fine…”
“And, you should do it too. When you miss me.” Antonio suggested simply.
“… I… I won’t miss you.”
“Lovi…”
For a second, there was no answer, and then Lovino spoke again,
“H-Hey, Antonio…?”
“Yes?”
“Promise me… you won’t find some hot girl or buff guy and fall in love with them. N-Not that I… care… but you’re dating me and…”
Antonio broke off Lovino’s nervous statement with a soft laugh.
“Silly Lovino. You really don’t know, do you?”
“H-Huh?”
“I love you.”
“I- I… I love you too, Antonio.”
Antonio beamed, “Aw, Lovi, I bet your face is all red now just like a tomat-”
“SHUT UP!”
Antonio laughed, and blew a kiss into the phone. A few moments later, Lovino blew one back, and he knew he was forgiven.
“Hey, Antonio, the old man is calling for me. I have to go…”
“Oh…” Antonio stopped smiling. “Alright. Goodnight, Lovi.”
“Wait.”
“Hm?”
“C-Can I see you tomorrow, before you go?”
“I have to leave early…”
“Please? I’ll wake up early!”
Antonio chuckled, “Aw… all right, Lovino. I’ll come see you before I go.”
“Good. You’d better, bastard…
“G-Goodnight…”
“Night, Lovi.”
Antonio blew another kiss into the phone, but by then Lovino had already hung up.
Francis looked at the clock: 9:57 PM. Which would mean that that it was almost 3:00 AM on Arthur’s side of the ocean, and therefore a very inappropriate time to make a phone call. Especially because it was very likely Arthur’s internal clock was not properly adjusted, and so waking him up would be a horrible thing to do.
Francis almost felt guilty for entertaining the thought of constantly disrupting Arthur’s sleep, so that the other would never be able to adjust to British time. As appealing as it sounded, that was far too selfish.
Still, Francis wanted to talk to him, to be able to say something. So, even though it was not the same, he stood and started up his computer, ready to send the other an email.
Dear Arthur, he started once the internet had opened up,
How have you been? Have you settled in yet? Are your roommates interesting people? Do you even have roommates? When do your classes begin, and what does your schedule look like?
Please forgive my barrage of questions; it has only been a few days, but it feels like I’ve been without you for a long time. Which is funny, because I rarely spent very much time with you even when you were here before this year. I never knew how much I would regret that.
Life here is just the same as it was when you left. Everything is moving so slowly, and then there are sudden moments when it feels like everything picks up speed and zooms at us. We saw Ms. Hassan’s exhibit today, and Gupta told me that you helped with it. I loved it, mon cher. I could imagine you, pouring yourself into researching, thinking hard about each person and what they would have loved to see. I especially loved what you picked out for me; I have always adored the story in Renoir’s paintings, and that young girl was adorable. And the few hours I spent in there felt slow and magical and right.
And then we walked out and Antonio reminded us that he is leaving tomorrow, and everything sped up again, unnaturally. Time is obscenely fickle; I wish she would pick a steady pace and move at it until my semester starts, and that for me, that pace would be quick.
You are adorable. They say that absence makes the heart grow fonder, and I do not think that they have ever been more right. I hope you are doing well. I miss you.
Love, Francis.
He hit send without proofreading the email, knowing that if he did he would end up changing whatever embarrassed him. Francis did not have to worry about that too much, though, because once he had sent it off an instant messaging window popped open.
Senor Carriedo: Hey, Francis.
Francis smiled, clicking in the box and typing,
La Vie En Rose: Hello
Senor Carriedo: How are you?
La Vie En Rose: Good. I just sent Arthur an email.
Senor Carriedo: Aw… You miss him, don’t you?
Senor Carriedo: I think I know how you feel, a little. I already miss Lovi…
La Vie En Rose: At least you and Lovino will remain in the same time zone.
Senor Carriedo: …
La Vie En Rose: I apologize. That was not supposed to come out as caustic as it did.
Senor Carriedo: It’s fine…
La Vie En Rose: Antonio, no. I’m sorry.
Senor Carriedo: *shrug* It’s fine, Francis. It’s not the same.
La Vie En Rose: Perhaps not, but you still have the right to be upset.
Senor Carriedo: ... A few days ago, Lovi told me he was going to apply to my school.
Senor Carriedo: And that makes me so happy, but… What if it’s not right for him?
Senor Carriedo: Lovi wants to be an artist, and he would do better at an art school…
La Vie En Rose: Did you ask him to apply to your school?
Senor Carriedo: No…
La Vie En Rose: Then you have to respect his choice, Antonio. Perhaps you are not the only reason he is applying there.
La Vie En Rose: And if you are, you should take it in stride. He chose you for a reason.
Senor Carriedo: Thank you.
La Vie En Rose: Not a problem.
La Vie En Rose: Are you packed yet?
Senor Carriedo: Uh, almost ^^;
Francis chuckled, shaking his head. In the corner of his screen, a new window popped up.
La Vie En Rose: Oh, look, Gilbert is online. Shall we invite him?
Senor Carriedo: Sure!
Awesome Prussian has joined the chat
Senor Carriedo: Hey, Gilbert.
Awesome Prussian: Toni, Franny, wassup?
La Vie En Rose: We were lamenting about our long distant love lives. Speaking of which, who is your special someone, Gilbert?
Awesome Prussian: no 1. i fly solo.
Senor Carriedo: That’s not what it sounded like earlier~
Awesome Prussian: shut up
La Vie En Rose: Oh, me thinks the lady doth protest too much.
Awesome Prussian: whore u callin a lady?
La Vie En Rose: *winks*
Awesome Prussian: fff, well, ur wrong. love is 2 sisy 4 me
Senor Carriedo: Whatever you say~ *cough*Matthew*cough*
Awesome Prussian: >:|
La Vie En Rose: *patpat* Still sailing down De Nile, Gilbert?
Awesome Prussian: i h8 u guys. I signed on 2 say bye 2 Toni, and u fuckers pissed me off.
Awesome Prussian: i’m leavin.
Senor Carriedo: Wait, Gilbert!
Senor Carriedo: …Goodnight.
Awesome Prussian: *sigh* night, Toni. g-luck in the real world.
La Vie En Rose: College is not the “real world”
Awesome Prussian: might as well be, the way people talk bout it. nighty night!
Awesome Prussian has logged off.
Senor Carriedo: Night, Gil…
La Vie En Rose: I think it is time you went to bed as well, Antonio.
Senor Carriedo: Yeah… is it silly that I don’t want to?
La Vie En Rose: Not at all.
La Vie En Rose: Sadly, we must all do things we do not like.
La Vie En Rose: *kisses forehead*
Senor Carriedo: Yeah… Goodnight, Francis.
La Vie En Rose: Goodnight :)
Senor Carriedo: I love you…
La Vie En Rose: I love you too, querido ;)
Senor Carriedo: :)
Senor Carriedo has logged off.
La Vie En Rose has logged off.
Francis closed his internet browser and shut off his computer, before going through his nightly rituals quietly and tucking himself into bed. All the while, there was a smile on his face, a warmth in his heart, which never faded.
“Antonio, Gilbert…” he murmured, letting his eyes fall shut and feeling their bodies flank his sides as they had so many times in that very bed.
And that was when he knew, as far apart as they soon would be, they would never be alone.
End
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A/N: There is the end of the first part of Scarred Heart in Hand. Endless thanks go out to those of you who read and commented regularly; it means so much to me that you guys are enjoying this fic I worked so very hard on.
Part 2 takes place after a ten-year time skip, and I'll be sure to start posting that soon. Again, thank you all so, so much so reading, and especially to those of you who've left me feedback. You're all amazing! ♥