Chapter Text
There was no way that Lovino would ever leave this life. It was one that only he and his brother Feliciano knew about, but he loved it. Secretly, of course. None of his friends could find out. However, being part of the Italian Mafia gave him a kind of freedom to let all his anger out, to be dark and strong behind all the fake fear that was the usual Lovino Vargas. The fake fear that his flatmate and secret lover Antonio Fernández-Carriedo felt the need to protect. Eventually, Lovino decided, he would tell his boyfriend about his… ‘Job’. But not yet. It was too dangerous, too likely that the Mafia would assassinate the Spaniard without Lovino knowing until too late. They were secretive like that. It was painful, but it just the ruthless truth.
As he sat down in a dusty hotel room after another long day of attempting to find out what exactly had happened to another member, he casually slung his large black case off of his shoulder. He flipped open the lid of the case, taking a moment to look at his rifle, before reaching inside a hidden pocket to draw out a small picture of Antonio.
That beautiful bastard. How he loved him.
Suddenly, there were a few taps at the window, so he stood, opening the blinds, fiddling with the latch, and pushing it upwards. And then there was a message for him on the pavement, written with bright green spray-paint. A message from the Mafia.
ANTONIO HAS TO GO
Lovino stared, the numb feeling that had first come to him when he read those words ebbing away, becoming replaced with a growing sense of anger. How dare anyone threaten his Toni? And how did anyone know about him? He’d been so careful not to let slip to anyone that he was with the Spaniard. It wasn’t like he was scared of the other Mafia member’s reactions to his sexuality, it was that he didn’t want Antonio to be hurt. And now it seemed that he would be.
“Shit, shit, shit!” He muttered, pushing the thumbnail picture back into his case, and making sure the rifle was strapped in fully. Then he slammed the lid closed, all the while cursing under his breath. Leaving his bags and clothes in the room, he stormed down to the hotel foyer (after checking that he had his key-card), and into the street. His auburn hair flamed red in the setting sun, the hazel in his eyes flashing dangerously as he hurried through the alleyways around the hotel, searching for the street outside his room. And yet, although he had scoured every small lane where he could still see room windows, there was no spray-painted messages on the pavement anywhere. Damn the Mafia. He knew, being part of it, how careful they were. He should’ve known.
With another string of swear-words flying from his mouth, Lovino pulled out his mobile phone and hit speed-dial, knowing that Antonio would be the first number called. With the phone to his ear, he stalked back to his hotel. As he was climbing the stairs to his floor, the call zipped to voicemail and he hung up in frustration.
“God dammit, Toni! Just answer me!” He said, re-dialing his boyfriend’s number. “Pick up, you bastard, pick up!”
But he was back to voicemail when he reached his room. This time, he didn’t hang up, and instead left a message for the Spaniard.
“Alright, you need to call me, right now. As soon as you finish listening to this message. Because your life has been threatened by the Italian Mafia - don’t ask me how I know this, not yet, I’ll explain when you get over here. And here is room 446, Hotel Kennedy, Chondriac Boulevard. Just get here, okay, call me, text me, whatever. I need to hear from you, I need to see you. Please. I love you, alright? Everything’s gonna be okay. See you soon.”
Lovino threw the phone onto the bed, sighing angrily. What had he done wrong now? He was always fucking things up with Antonio, saying stupid things, fighting, nearly telling him about the Mafia… But never had he done so this badly. Never had either of their lives been in so much danger because of something he hadn’t even realised he’d done.
The night passed incredibly fitfully, until he was jolted awake by a frantic phone call from his brother.
“Lovi! Where the hell are you? Antonio is in hospital - he’s been shot!”
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The hospital was entirely white sheets and sterile needles and antiseptic. The smell of the medicine burned through Lovino’s nose like the smell of new cars, or the smell of rubber, too penetrating, and too strong. Why didn’t he just go find Antonio straight away? He was such an idiot. He should’ve gone their flat, or to Antonio’s parents’ house…Not just waited. A threat like that - and from the Mafia - he should’ve known that he would be stupid not to go find his boyfriend. And yet, he’d done just that. Idiota.
And, as they walked through the white, white hallway towards the white, white door, Lovino couldn’t stop thinking about everything he’d done wrong. Everything was just fuzzy, literally white, white noise around him; it was just his faults and a need to be with Antonio, that was all. A need to be with Antonio. Be with Antonio. Antonio.
Antonio.
If his boyfriend died because of him… He would never forgive himself. Anything, anything at all, that’s what he would do, so his Toni lived. The white hospital could become black for all he cared, if Antonio was alive at the end of it.
Doors were pushed open, corners were turned, and doctors were passed, and then Antonio’s private room was there in front of them.
Ready, Lovi? A voice inside his head whispered to him. Ready to see the damage you’ve done?
Shaking, Lovino entered the room. Antonio was lying there, so still, so small, so broken. Another white thing was now masking his jaw, but it wasn’t just white. There were spots of red, of deep, dark, vitally red blood leaving its mark in blotchy traces across the bandage. Too much blood. Too much. A gun wound. Blood. Bandages. Toni.
Help. Help me. I’ve done so much. But none of it was right. Help me!
Lovino could barely concentrate on anything as he took in the sight of his boyfriend lying, comatose, in the hospital bed, a softly beeping heart monitor invading their privacy. He was suddenly incredibly jumpy. Everything had been thrown up into the air, and come down, landing skewed and broken, the impact of hitting the ground placing cracks in them. Well, more like ridges and cavities and entire canyons that were too wide to string a bridge across. It wouldn’t ever be the same again.
A doctor entered the room, and gently put an arm round Lovino’s shaking shoulders, reassuring the Italian. He was close to tears, and needed some news about Antonio’s condition. Good news, preferably.
“Hi, Lovino, you’re Antonio’s boyfriend, right?”
“Si… I mean, yes.”
“Right. So, you know he’s been shot in the jaw, of course. That much is rather basic information, at the moment. I want to let you know that Antonio will be alright. He’ll survive this. He’s in a med induced coma at the moment because he’s very weak; don’t worry about this, because it was entirely anticipated, and we were hoping that would happen, because we wanted him to get some vitally needed rest.”
“Okay.”
“What I need to tell you, is that we’re going to operate on him tomorrow. His operation is due at 10:30am, and you will be able to visit him from 1:45pm, onwards.”
“Right. So… What will the operation do?”
“We’re going to be inserting some more bone marrow and similar materials into his jaw for healing, because he’s lost a lot of blood, and the bone has been damaged. I warn you now, there is a side effect of this operation. He will-”
“Die?!”
“No! No, of course not, he’ll live. Don’t worry. He will just lose the ability to move his jaw properly in order to speak.”
“You mean… He won’t ever speak again?”
“No. I’m so sorry. But this has to happen in order for him to live. He can learn sign language. And so can you, and your families.”
“But… He won’t ever… He won’t….”
“Yes?”
“He’ll never be able to tell me…” Lovino felt himself fall over the edge of the barrier that was preventing him from crying. Painful tears slid down his cheeks as the realisation of this side effect hit him; he sank to the cold, tiled floor of the hospital room, and drew a deep breath, before continuing to speak. “Toni will never again… Tell me…. That he… Not with his own voice…. That…. That he loves me…”