If it weren't for The Goliath Beetle, I would have never finished this story. So from the bottom of my heart, I thank her, and you should too :'D I'm just exhausted. But at least...this is the last chapter.

See you at the bottom :)

Chapter Twelve

Graciano - is a Spanish red wine grape variety. Its wine is moderately tannic, deeply colored and intensely perfumed, with aromas of mulberry, violets and chocolate - sometimes complemented by vanilla and sweet spices.

~/~

Ring!

Ring!

Ring!

Jeanne turned over and mumbled, "Mm, mon cher, I think that's for you."

Francis sighed and rubbed his forehead. "I swear if it's Antonio again…" he trailed off tiredly. "Where's the phone?" He shuffled his hand around his nightstand blindly until he found it. He pressed it to his ear, and said, "All right, Toni. What is i—"

"FRANCIS YOU GODDAMN SON OF A BITCH!"

The shout made him sit up in a fright. It took him a second to recognize the voice. "…Lovino? Why are you calling me? It's hardly seven in the morning."

"Why the fuck do you think I'm calling you?! Why do you think I'm even up? Do you think I make a habit of walking around the motherfucking vineyards around this time like that damn bastard?!"

"I don't know how I should feel about you referring to Antonio like th—"

"He's in the goddamn hospital you asshole! Just listen to me!" Lovino yelled. He sounded absolutely unhinged. "He fell a-and he hit the ground really hard. And, and—damn it! There was blood. And his head and his arm and his hand. And oh dio. It's my fault. I could've stopped him, because I knew he shouldn't have been climbing the fucking, goddamn vine of the balcony. I knew it. But he was…h-he was so…" Lovino broke off into a choked sob.

Meanwhile, Francis felt as though his entire body turned cold. His heart might've stopped beating. Jeanne was watching him worriedly from her side on the bed now.

Then slowly, Francis asked in his calmest voice, "So what are you saying Lovino?"

"THAT ANTONIO'S IN THE MOTHERFUCKING HOSPITAL AND THEY WON'T TELL ME WHAT'S GOING ON, SO COME OVER HERE AND FIX IT, DAMN IT."

Francis mass texted the important people, pulled on his clothes, and drove with Jeanne to the hospital. He clenched his fingers into his palm and willed himself not to cry. He couldn't yet. Not yet.

~/~

Gilbert lived closer to the hospital, so he ended up arriving near the same time Jeanne and Francis were pulling into the parking lot. Francis's hands were still shaking when he closed the car door, and he practically ran to where Gilbert was standing.

Gilbert had his phone pressed to his ear. "I'm calling Ludwig," he said evenly, and his eyes were hard. "They said they'll leave San Francisco today."

Francis felt a bit better standing between Jeanne and Gilbert. There was something solid and reaffirming about both of them. They handled these situations much better than he did.

"Let's go inside," Jeanne suggested, and she grasped Francis's hand.

He nodded his head, but said nothing, and followed behind her like a limp doll.

As he passed the beige walls, the nurses, and the sterile machinery, Francis's brain flooded with worries.

What if Antonio was dead? Or comatose? What would he do? What would become of them? They all had their own lives now, that's true…but still. It would never be the same.

"Mon cher," Jeanne murmured and her hand held Francis's face. "Stop assuming the worst. We don't know anything yet."

Somehow, he managed a tight-lipped smile. "You're right," he replied. "Let's find Lovino."

~/~

Despite the phone call, the yelling, and the cursing, no one really knew what to expect when they found Lovino. Gilbert joined Francis and Jeanne now as they traveled through the eerie blank halls of the hospital. They were going to the emergency room. Just the sign made Francis's heart skip a beat.

Then, inside the lounge, on one of the gray-green plush benches was Lovino's small, curled figure. Usually, Lovino could hardly be described as small, there was always a certain air of intimidation that overpowered his shyness. But here and now, he just looked like a frightened, little boy.

He was bent over his knees, his head in his hands, and his fingers clawing at his scalp. For some reason, Francis felt terrified of him, so Gilbert approached him first.

"Um, Lovino," he called awkwardly, and sat down beside him. "How long has Antonio been in there?"

Lovino shook his head and his nails dug deeper. "I don't know," he replied curtly. "I can't…I don't know what's going on."

Jeanne took a seat at Lovino's other side and laid a hand on his shoulder. "What happened?" she asked gently. Her voice was a smooth as an angel.

Lovino coughed on a sob, and took some deep breaths. "He…He was leaving to go to work…a-and he th-thought he'd climb down the v-vine of the balcony," he explained slowly.

"The balcony," Francis repeated, a bit confused. "You mean the one of your bedroom? But why was—oh. Oh, merde."

Those idiots, he thought.

Why was it Francis felt so angry and terrified at the same time? Why was his friend such a damned romantic? Why were Antonio and Lovino both so…hopeless.

Lovino lifted his head and glared at Francis with watery eyes. "It's not my fault," he said shakily.

"I didn't say that."

"You were thinking it."

Before Francis started a fight, Gilbert intervened, and said, "Have the doctors come out yet?"

Lovino's gaze flickered, and he rubbed at his tearstains. "Once. An hour ago. But they didn't say much."

Gilbert nodded and pulled out his phone. "Okay, I'll try calling Eliza. She's in family practice, but maybe she can help us learn what's going on."

Lovino fell back in his hands and his chest rocked. ""Wh-what if he's…what if?"

Jeanne rubbed his shoulder, and whispered, "Shh, don't worry. We don't know anything yet. There's no use in worrying now." Jeanne laid her head near Lovino and hugged him close.

Francis wondered if he was the only one who noticed she didn't say everything was going to be okay.

~/~

When Elizaveta exited from the surgery room, her skin was pale, and her face was grave. She wasn't wearing scrubs, and was still in her white lab coat; she was just conferring with the surgeons.

Lovino stayed rooted to his seat. He was too petrified to move. And Francis lingered near him.

Gilbert and Jeanne were the ones to run up to her.

"Well," Gilbert demanded, his voice tense. "Just say something."

"You might want to keep your voice down," Elizaveta hushed him, and she gestured to Lovino and Francis with her eyes. "We want to keep them calm, all right," she whispered.

"If you're going to say something, then just fucking say it!" Lovino shouted, and he gave them a heated glare. Francis didn't look too happy either, but he was silent.

"I see what you mean," Gilbert muttered, and he scratched his neck. "Just get on with it then."

Elizaveta took a deep breath and stepped a little closer to the group. "Okay, so I'm just going to repeat to you what they told me," she began slowly. "He's in surgery now—"

"No shit. Tell me something useful," Lovino seethed. It was like he was daring someone to yell at him.

But Elizaveta was accustomed to this, and she continued just as she was. "His left arm was broken very badly. It was basically shattered, but it's not irreparable. He managed to ascertain a long gash on his right hand and forearm, probably from scratching the vine in the fall. It required stitches, but nothing major was damaged."

Everyone hardly breathed. So far the news wasn't so bad…

"Aside from that, he broke two ribs, and managed a few minor scrapes on his face and abdomen," Elizaveta said slowly. "However," she paused, and pressed her lips together. "The real problem is his head."

No.

"He suffered a fairly severe concussion."

God, no.

"And although they're fairly certain they've managed to stop the bleeding, we won't know the damage until he wakes up," Elizaveta explained calmly. "He could have memory loss, brain damage…" her voice trailed off ominously, but the first two suggestions were enough to settle the room with a freezing chill. "I'm sorry."

Lovino knew he should be relieved. Antonio wasn't dead, it didn't sound like he was going to die. He was, kind of, okay. But the injuries, his head…Antonio was so perfect, he was so strong and handsome and graceful. What would he be like now? It was impossible to imagine.

Antonio was absolutely perfect.

"But he'll live?" Francis asked tentatively, his voice very soft.

Elizaveta offered him a small smile. "Yes," she said. "He'll live."

But what will his life be like? What if he can't do the things he loves? What if he doesn't remember anything at all?

Why couldn't Lovino breathe?

He started crying again, and this time harder than before. He hated crying, and he loathed crying in front of other people, but it was incontrollable. If they hated watching, they could go fuck themselves for all he cared.

"I know how you feel Lovino," someone said. Lovino couldn't see through the tears, or hear well through his sobs. "But he's alive. Antonio's alive."

Lovino saw Francis's blurry face, and a part of his heart twisted, because he recognized that if anyone did understand. It must have been him. Gilbert was more practical about these things. And Jeanne was accustomed to it.

"I know," Lovino choked, and hot tears kept spilling. "But still, he…"

He won't be like before.

Francis frowned, and his eyes were shining. "I know."

Nothing will be like before.

~/~

Jeanne left at night, and brought some food for them.

They hardly touched it.

~/~

At around seven in the morning, Feli and Ludwig arrived.

Ludwig sauntered over to his brother and gave him an awkward, if not also delicate pat on the shoulder. Gilbert muttered something like "everything was going to be fine" and this and that. He was talking statistics and plans, and it was really tiring. But Ludwig listened anyway, since he knew it would calm Gilbert down.

Feli dove straight for Lovino, and they both held on tight. Feliciano was already crying – it didn't take more than five seconds – and Lovino never stopped. They were basically conjoined for an hour.

Francis loitered outside and smoked cigarettes as Jeanne spoke soft French words about the future and where they'll go.

~/~

"Lovi."

"Yeah."

"Do you remember the last time we were in the hospital? After our paren—"

"Don't talk about that."

"…Do you remember it?"

"This is nothing like that time."

"Of course not."

…

"We waited for hours."

"Shut up."

"The room looked just like this one."

"Shut up."

"I wonder if all hospitals look the same?"

"Shut up."

"I wish nonno were here."

…

"Me too."

~/~

Lovino hadn't slept.

Feli was sprawled all over the bench.

Ludwig was paralyzed, because Feli was sprawled all over the couch and his legs.

Francis reeked of cigarettes.

Jeanne was at church.

And Gilbert had had about enough.

~/~

Mornings were godsend. Each and every time.

There was something about the mornings that blessed Antonio with a preemptive zeal for the day. He couldn't remember crying the night before, or fighting with his parents, or punching Gilbert in the jaw, or running away from a bar tab…The memories didn't come right away. He was blissfully ignorant, and all he could focus on was the now, and what could be.

And there was a rhythm to waking up.

Usually the sounds would come first.

Beep.

Beep.

Beep.

Then the motion. He'd turn over in bed and bury his head in the pillow…but this was different too.

At once, Antonio groaned and furrowed his eyebrows. Antonio hadn't expected a shooting pain. He didn't even understand where it came from. Everything hurt.

"Antonio?" a voice called. It was feminine, but not very soft. He knew it somehow.

But he was distracted by the pain and tiredness, and he hid himself in the pillow again. It wasn't very comfortable.

"Antonio?" she called again. There was a pause. "I think he's waking up. Call Gilbert and tell him to round them up."

Someone's footsteps left the room, and a door closed.

Antonio tried to focus on sleeping again. If he could just sleep a little bit longer…

"Antonio."

Dios mio.

"People are waiting for you. Don't you want to wake up?" the lady asked—was it Elizaveta?

No, waking up sounded so tiring. He wanted to sleep.

"What about the vineyards? And the grapes?"

Antonio sighed, and mumbled something close to "they'll still be there."

Elizaveta laughed musically, and it sounded so relieved. "What about your friends? Francis and Gilbert?"

"They can wait," he murmured, though brightness was battling at his eyes.

"They're going to be mad at you," she warned playfully.

Antonio's lips turned up at the empty threat, and he hummed against the cushion.

A few seconds later, she asked, "What about Lovino?"

Lovino.

Lovino.

He was dreaming of Lovino. He remembered hoping Lovino would stop by the lemon tree for their usual afternoon siesta. He was waiting for him. He must have dozed off as he waited.

At the thought of Lovino's return, Antonio's eyes unwittingly fluttered open. He was blinded by the glare of florescent lights, and closed them again. He groaned and turned on his back. He felt more pain, and he still couldn't tell where it was coming from.

"Are you in a lot of pain?" Elizaveta asked, and her tone was laced with concern.

"Yeah," Antonio mumbled, and he tried opening his eyes again. No luck. It was still too bright.

"Hold on, let me up the dose. I'll turn half of the lights off too."

"Dose," he repeated wondrously. He heard a click and felt some of the brightness fade away. He followed the sounds of the footsteps and opened his eyes again. "What dose?"

"Your pain meds," she explained, and Antonio could make out her blurry figure pressing against something. He assumed the IV. But why would there be an IV?

"Wait," he said, and his voice sounded more aware. "Where am I?"

Elizaveta was close again and she sat down in a chair beside his bed. "You're in the hospital. Do you remember what happened?"

Antonio stared at her. It was definitely Eliza's voice, and he could see the color of her hair and her eyes; but it was like everything was out of focus. It was annoying.

"Antonio?" she called again, and she snapped her fingers in front of him to call his attention. "Do you know why you're here?"

"U-um," he mumbled and his eyes squinted. If he did that, Elizaveta was a bit clearer. Not quite though. But what did she say? The hospital? "I…don't know why I'm here," he replied slowly.

"All right," she said and scribbled something down on a notepad. "What's the last thing you remember?"

Antonio took a few deep breaths as he recalled. "I was about to take a siesta near the tree. I was waiting for Lovino…" he trailed off as he struggled with the faint memory of a conversation. "I think…he might've stopped by?" It came out more as a question than a statement. "Or maybe I was dreaming," he suggested.

There was more scribbling, and Elizaveta just nodded her head.

Antonio glanced around at his body and he could faintly make out the image of a…cast? "Did I fall?" he asked a bit surprised, and tried lifting his arm. The cast started at his mid-bicep and travelled down to his wrist.

"You did," Elizaveta said. "You broke your left arm, and you have stitches on your right. You also have two broken ribs. So be careful when you move."

Antonio looked at her. Why was everything still fuzzy? Should he ask about that? Was it because of the medicine?

"Have you noticed any other problems?" Elizaveta asked suddenly.

Antonio flinched and he flashed a smile automatically. "No, not really," he said. For some reason, he didn't feel like he should say something about his eyes. It was probably just nothing. "Um, h-how did I fall?" he asked a bit hesitantly.

Elizaveta smiled at him, and patted his hand. "That doesn't really matter. It was just an accident. Besides, I think there are some people here to see you."

Antonio wanted to ask more, but before he could say anything, there was a knock at the door.

"Oh, that must be the crew," Elizaveta whistled, and she stood up from the chair. With her hand on the doorknob, she peered over her shoulder and warned, "You might want to brace yourself. They've been desperate to see you for days."

Antonio tried to sit up in the bed a bit more, and he yelped a bit in pain. "O-okay," he gasped.

But the door was already open, and his friends dashed to his side.

"Toni!"

"Mon cher!"

"Hey! No touching the patient!" Elizaveta shouted and both Gilbert and Francis froze before they crushed Antonio in a hug.

They started laughing awkwardly and trying to find a place where they could touch. They settled for patting his shoulder.

"Toni, how are you? How are you feeling? Do you remember who I am?" Francis asked hurriedly, and his eyes tensed with worry.

Antonio found the whole thing rather amusing and chuckled. "Of course I do."

"What about me? Do you remember me too?" Gilbert demanded.

"Yep!"

"Oh, thank god," Francis exclaimed, and he dropped his body over Antonio's lap.

"What did I say about touching the patient?" Elizaveta shouted again, and she pulled Francis up by his hair.

"Hey, is there a pen around here? I want to sign Toni's cast," Gilbert asked offhand and he shuffled around the room. "Found one."

As Gilbert busied himself with his calligraphy, Francis began sobbing into Elizaveta's shoulder.

"Francis? Why are you crying?" Antonio asked, and his voice was caught between surprise and amusement.

"Don't mind him, really. He's been a bit of an emotional wreck. I think his diet of cigarettes, wine and coffee is finally getting to him," Elizaveta explained as she held Francis's back.

"Oh, I thought you stopped smoking Francis," Antonio commented as he glanced at what Gilbert was writing.

Gilbert the AWESOME was here first. So there.

"I'm only human!" Francis cried, and he held onto Elizaveta tighter.

Elizaveta tried pushing him away, but Francis wasn't budging at all.

When Gilbert finished writing his name, he started drawing birds all over the cast. Meanwhile, Antonio's mind kept flitting around the things Elizaveta had mentioned earlier.

"So, u-um," he began a little awkwardly, and heat rose to his cheeks. "Is Lovino…here?" he asked his question very tentatively.

"Is he here, he asks," Francis sobbed dramatically. "He hasn't left the hospital since you've been here."

Antonio's face perked up and he looked at the door. "Is he outside then?"

"He's probably still curled up on Feli's lap," Gilbert said as he capped the sharpie.

"Oh, was he very worried?" Antonio asked, and his fluttered in something between surprise and concern. What exactly happened?

Gilbert started laughing, and it sounded absolutely exhausted. "Everyone's been worried."

Antonio's eyes widened and he looked at all of his friends, and then the door. His heart beat a bit faster. "Does he want to see me?"

"Of course he does!" Elizaveta said quickly.

"He was just afraid to see you first," Gilbert explained as he started exploring around the room.

"Oh." Antonio glanced down at his hands and smiled to himself. That sounded like Lovi. He was brave, but he was also so afraid. And so shy.

Elizaveta noticed Antonio's expression and already started walking to the door. "How about I get him for you, hm? Gilbert and Francis can switch out," she proposed sweetly, as she gave stern glares to the ones in question.

"Thank you," Antonio replied, and he smiled broader in anticipation. His vision was still blurry, but it must be just the medicine.

"I'll see you in a bit, mon cher," Francis said and he smiled genuinely on his way out.

"Take it easy," Gilbert added.

And Elizaveta followed after them. Antonio was alone.

Somehow, he felt nervous; he felt even guilty. He wondered what happened. He wondered what Lovino felt. He wondered if he forgot anything.

The doorknob turned slowly, and Antonio's heart raced.

It took seconds for the door to open, then finally it did, and familiar dark eyes found his. Lovino was frozen in the doorway, not daring to move any muscle. He didn't even breathe.

Antonio couldn't help but smile. Lovino was the same as always. He needed a little bit of help. "Lovi," he cooed, and laughed lightly. "How have you been?"

As predicted, Lovino came to life at once. He stepped in the room and slammed the door. "Shut up," he muttered, and paced around Antonio bed. He didn't settle anywhere and kept walking back and forth, occasionally glancing at Antonio over his shoulder.

Antonio watched him, but things were still blurry, and watching Lovino pace was confusing. He closed his eyes and pressed his fingers to his temple. "Lovino, can you stand still for a moment?" he asked quietly.

There was a sharp intake of breath, and Lovino's footsteps halted. "A-are you okay?" he asked tentatively. Lovino took a step forwards, but stopped again. "Is it your head?"

"Mm," Antonio sighed tiredly. "How did I even fall? Elizaveta never told me."

Silence.

Antonio slowly opened his eyes to find Lovino glaring at him.

"What?" he asked innocently.

"You don't remember." It was a statement, not a question.

Antonio wished he could make out Lovino's eyes better. His voice sounded angry, but he doubted his eyes were. "I remember taking a siesta, and I think you were there when I woke up. But that's about it…" Antonio replied slowly, as his mind tried to catch up with him. Lovino didn't respond, so Antonio continued. "Did I forget a lot?" It was still quiet, and Antonio couldn't see Lovino properly. "Lovino?"

There was a soft laugh, or maybe it was a cough, or a cry? It was hard to decipher. "You idiot," Lovino said gently. "You fell off the fucking balcony."

Antonio's lashes fluttered. "I what?"

"The balcony. My balcony. You were pulling one of your Romeo stunts and the vine broke."

"Oh." It took a moment to sink in.

"You idiot."

Antonio suddenly laughed at the irony of it all. "That's kind of funny."

"It's fucking hilarious."

"Was I climbing up to meet you?" Antonio asked, as he tried to gain a picture.

Lovino was slow to respond. "You were climbing down."

There was a strange inflection to his voice. Antonio didn't understand it. "I see," he murmured, and couldn't help but chuckle again. "It really is kind of funny."

"What part of this is so damn funny to you?"

Antonio stared at his palms. He could see those clearly at least. "Well, I meant to cut the vine down when you first came here. I knew it would be a problem. But then I realized where the vine led to, and I fell in love with you, and…well, you don't find this just a little bit funny?"

At once, Lovino took fast steps forward, and was face to face with Antonio. Finally, Antonio could make out the details of his face. He didn't notice it before. Lovino's eyes weren't just dark, they were bloodshot and glistening: they looked as though he'd been awake and crying for hours. Days.

Lovino wasn't just staring at Antonio anymore, he was holding Antonio's face too. His fingers were strong and angry, but he was very cautious too. His lips were pressed together in a tight line.

"None of this is funny," he choked. His eyes were watering again. "I went through hell. I thought you were going to die. Or not walk. Or forget everything. Or become paralyzed. I thought it was my fault, because I knew you shouldn't have been climbing that fucking vine. I knew it. I told you. And I could've made you cut it down, but I didn't. I let you keep it, because I…a-and you…" Lovino trailed off, and tears were streaming down his face. "You damn bastard," he gasped and pressed his lips fervently to Antonio's.

The kiss was sloppy and salty, and uncoordinated all around, and it didn't last long before Lovino pulled away and dove against Antonio's shoulder, staining the hospital gown with his tears.

A sad, understanding smile graced Antonio's lips, and he stretched his stitched arm around Lovino to hold his back. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm sorry I made you worry."

Lovino didn't even deny it. "I don't know what I would've done," he murmured. "I just…I—I finally…I…need you. I can't imagine—damn it, Antonio."

"Lovi, don't you think you've cried enough?" Antonio teased gently, and he pressed his face close to Lovino's hair.

"Shut up," Lovino ordered brokenly. "I'll cry as much as I want to."

Antonio laughed softly, and kissed Lovino's head. "Oh, Lovi…" he sighed. "I love you so much querido."

Lovino held Antonio tighter, and his voice was very low when he replied, "Anch'io ti amo."

It was the first time Lovino told Antonio he loved him.

And it was Antonio's turn to cry.

"Wine comes in at the mouth

And love comes in at the eye;

That's all we shall know for truth

Before we grow old and die.

I lift the glass to my mouth,

I look at you, and I sigh."

Spring

Lovino arrived at the vineyards early in the morning.

Feliciano had long since left; he and Ludwig moved into an apartment together as soon as Ludwig's old landowner discovered Berlitz. Tino came once a week to do some cleaning and fixing up here and there, but he no longer stayed full time; he decided to enroll in cooking classes downtown so he could begin training as a chef.

Berwald, Kiku and Ivan still shared the little farmhouse. The three of them were oddly silent and intimidating as a group, but they appeared to get along, and they continued to groom the vines together without trouble.

The main house stayed about the same. It was still just as large, and just as grand, but when Lovino walked inside after a week of being away on business, he noticed the difference. It was softer, more disorganized, less like a museum and a bit more alive. The couches were mismatching, and the pillows and blankets were tossed haphazardly across. The oil paintings were coordinated with photographs now, and were scattered up the stairs all the way to the bedroom.

After Lovino dropped his suitcase at the base of the stairs—too lazy to do anything about it now—he noticed perhaps the largest change of all. He rolled his eyes.

Why was it that Antonio appeared to leak plants wherever he went?

Bouquets sat in the entryway and living room; in the kitchen there were bowls and bowls of fresh fruit and vegetables. Lovino absentmindedly grabbed an apple as he passed through and found a note sitting on top of the tomatoes.

He pursed his lips and tried to decipher the messy handwriting.

I was waiting for you to stop by.

Lovino's lips turned up in a traitorous smile, just as he thought What the hell is he going on about?

He turned the paper over, but there was nothing else, so he dropped it back on the tomatoes and strolled out of the kitchen.

There was a rose on top of the column that stood at the base of the stairs. A similar white note sat above it, and Lovino grabbed it. His cheeks were pink with curiosity.

Do you want to make a pizza?

"What the hell," Lovino muttered, and he tossed the note to the ground. He bit his apple and kept walking upstairs.

At the top sat a bottle of wine, and a note was taped to its side. Lovino picked up the bottle—it was one of Francis's god damn it—and looked at the note.

You're just as sappy as I am by the way.

"What…" Lovino flushed red and threw the note to the ground. "No I am not!" he snapped and glanced around the hallway. Antonio must be hiding in their bedroom. "Antonio," he called as he stomped closer to the door.

Unsurprisingly, there was a note on the knob. Lovino bit his lip and read it.

Do you mind if I ask one more stupid question?

"All your questions are stupid," Lovino mumbled, and he folded the paper away. He opened the door and waltzed into the room. It was empty and cool. The bed was unmade as usual, and the doors to the balcony were wide open; the curtains waved in the breeze.

Lovino mumbled incoherently under his breath and spotted Antonio's nightstand. A pair of glasses were left untouched near a pile of books. Lovino huffed and picked them up. He set the apple down.

"You're supposed to be wearing these," he murmured, and turned the glass over.

"Lovino?"

The Spanish accent rung through the room and it made Lovino's heart race in an instant. He dropped the glasses back on the nightstand.

"Where are you?" Lovino asked as he started walking towards the bathroom.

"Hm, you'll have to find me, tesoro," Antonio laughed. His voice echoed from the balcony, so Lovino walked there.

Even after a few months had already passed, the balcony made Lovino's palms sweat. He knew the balcony itself was stable, but it brought such an overwhelming air of fear over him. Lovino's breath was short when he stood there.

"Antonio," Lovino called, and his voice was a bit weaker. "Where the fuck are you, bastard?"

More laughter trickled around, and there was some more movement. Antonio's curly dark hair appeared by the railing, and suddenly his hands hoisted himself over. He landed on the balcony and flashed Lovino an ecstatic smile. "Ta-da!"

Lovino was sure his heart stopped beating. Blood cut off circulation to his face. "Wh-what…" then his fingers clenched into his palms. "What the fuck do you mean ta-da! What the hell are you doing?"

Antonio's eyes glittered, but he swiftly walked forward to hold Lovino's hands in his own, easing the nails from Lovino's palms. "It's okay, Lovi. I built a ladder."

Lovino glared at him. "You what?"

"A ladder!" Antonio beamed and he hurried back to the edge. "I thought about planting another vine. But that didn't seem to work out well the last time," he joked playfully. He still found the situation funny, though he never fully recalled it.

Lovino's heart panged and he turned away. "Get away from the edge, bastard. It's not safe," he muttered.

Antonio caught Lovino's expression and moved away obediently. His smile softened. "I'm sorry," he murmured.

Sadness and embarrassment colored Lovino's cheeks—he thought about that night again. He thought about it too often.

Then Antonio spoke again, and his voice was wistful. "You know I had a wonderful dream the other day."

Lovino rolled his eyes, and his shoulders slumped. "Oh really…"

Antonio's smile broadened. "You woke me up from my siesta and then made a pizza for me," he began slowly.

Lovino's body froze, and only his eyes shifted so that they could meet Antonio's.

"But we never got to finish it, which was too bad," Antonio continued, and his eyes glinted a vibrant emerald.

Lovino stared at him. He didn't dare speak. He could be wrong.

Antonio chuckled again, and he stepped away from the balcony, and closer to Lovino once again.

"I know you hate it when I ask stupid questions, but I have one more for you. Is that okay?"

Lovino felt so warm, so nervous, and so on edge. He pressed his lips together and gave Antonio a curt nod.

Antonio smiled and gently grasped Lovino's hand. He knelt down and held it in front of him.

"Um," Lovino muttered, as his ears burned self-consciously. He didn't understand exactly what was going on. His mind felt overloaded.

Antonio's thumb grazed over the top of Lovino's hand, and he looked Lovino in the eyes. "Lovino…" he began, and his hand retrieved something from his jacket pocket. It was a bundle of flowers tied together. They formed a ring. "I didn't want to borrow money from my parents for this," he chuckled a little awkwardly, and his cheeks were pink too. "B-but…I was wondering…will you marry me?"

Lovino bit the inside of his cheek. It was no use, he couldn't stop himself from smiling. "That really is a stupid question," he breathed.

Antonio grinned a bit more confidently, and slid the flowers on. "I guess I ask a lot of them," he said, and held Lovino's hand tenderly. "So…you will the—"

"Yes," Lovino interrupted, and he fell to his knees and hugged Antonio. He caressed the back of Antonio's head, over the raised scars. He grazed his lips over the warmth and sunburnt feel of the skin of Antonio's neck. He was here. Antonio was still here. And he… "You remember?" Lovino asked weakly.

Antonio's hands were around Lovino's back, and his smile rested against Lovino's shoulder. "It was amazing, Lovino," he whispered. "And so were you."

Lovino gripped Antonio's back tighter and tears bubbled near his eyes.

"Let's take a siesta this afternoon," Antonio suggested lightly.

Lovino didn't say anything, but he didn't really need to.

They took a siesta together every day.

~/~

*Antonio's poor vision derived from post-traumatic vision loss (from his concussion)

I can't believe it's over. I want to laugh and cry, I just can't believe it :'D I feel like I've been working on this story for much longer than it's been going on. It's been quite a journey since my initial idea back in June.

Thank you all so much for taking the time to read this story! It turned out to be a rather long one :'D Which I suppose, considering my tendencies, isn't too much of a surprise.

Also, those of you who reviewed every single chapter…you guys have a special place in my heart. You are Spamano angels sent from heaven.

And just anyone else who favorited/followed/reviewed/or just took the time to read—thank you so, so much! I'm going to be completely honest and say I am that writer that runs almost entirely on feedback xD For better or for worse, that's the truth, so to everyone who supported me, this story really couldn't have been completed without you.

I have two "small" multi-chapter fics I'll be working on now. So if you're interested, please try reading The Goliath Beetle's gift-fic The Afterport, and my prostitute AU, Breathless in the Atmosphere.

Thank you all again! And I'll see you very soon! :D