Chapter Text
It was cold enough to shiver.
Of course his air conditioning would break today of all days. Today that he has to spend practically all of it in this stupid, old car, not to mention how he has to drive some guy somewhere first. Apparently he's Italian? Alfred had heard Europeans have better manners, so maybe at least it won't be a problem to him. Or not one that'd be voiced.
Hopefully.
The guy hadn't told him where Alfred was gonna drive him, so that wasn't a good start, but surely it's just a European thing.
At least after that he's heading back to Canada. Say what you want about living with parents, free meals are something Alfred greatly missed throughout his whole stay in another country. Also, he's finally meeting with his brother again, whom is usually the one paying when they hang out. It's been quite lonely without him.
Ever since Matthew moved out, Alfred found himself counting days to holidays, the rare times they'd meet. He'd even caught himself hoping to be invited to his brother's hockey trainings. That always happened rarely, mainly because Matt's teammates weren't too fond of his presence. He also couldn't attend Matthew's actual games, as he didn't have enough money for it. Being unemployed is nice, but becomes a struggle after a while. Thus why he had to move to a country nearby just for a job. Won't even mention how he paid only half of the rent as he didn't have enough money for more. His parents began to refuse paying for his cravings ever since he turned to adulthood, unfortunately, so the fact they agreed to this was a miracle on itself.
So yes, he was looking forward to home. Still, he'll miss America. Maybe he was kinda starving and isolated himself from peers a little bit, but he'd enjoyed it in the end. Who needs friends anyways, it's not like the contact would last after he'd come back home. That sounds corny, pull yourself together dude.
Loud music blasted through the speakers. Alfred wasn't sure who the artists was, but their songs slapped, so obviously he'd added them to his playlist. If he had to guess, he'd heard dad play it a few times and just adapted to it. Music taste was something he certainly inherited from him. Not like it's a nice thing though. Thankfully, there doesn't seem to be much other correlation between them.
That couldn't be said for Matthew, who was a copy of their papa, basically. The fact they look blood related aside, many of their passions, clothing and music taste, all align. In this case, Alfred should've took over his dad then, shouldn't he? Wrong. He's nothing like any of his family members.
Anyways, back to driving. Someone honked at him cause he'd been standing in one place during green light… Great. Well, the destination is close enough, and it's not like he'd be any late because of one little mistake. Alfred glanced at the time.
Oh.
Oh no.
An hour difference doesn't make much of a problem, does it? Surely an Italian wouldn't have a problem with it. Yeah. He's from Europe after all.
It was cold. It should be cold. His coat was too light for the weather, not to mention how uncomfortable it was. Old, raggedy. Its texture bit his skin in an infuriating way, not helping with the sickly pain of his arms and, to be honest, all rest of his body. He wasn't even sure whether it belonged to him or not, which only added to the fuel.
Exhaustion was making itself clear, muscles sore, head hurting. Maybe the latter was from all the screaming, both his and the others, but he wasn't sure. He didn't care. That bastard deserved all that had been done to him, possibly maybe even more. For a bit he cursed himself for not going further, but he's too tired, too done with it to attempt to get back. What's done is done and he won't waste his time sulking over it.
It should be cold, but it'd felt like the middle of summer. Summer in which you're forced by your younger brother to come along to a beach on which he has some stupid date he hadn't told you about and all you're left alone with is trying to seem okay with it, either staying on the side, flirting with other girls to seem cool, or making excuses to leave. Or make your brother's partner leave, which is usually most tempting.
The bag in his hand slipped, making him stumble over the sidewalk in an attempt to catch it. Probably looked like the worst idiot out there.
The road was full of people, it's not like everyone wasn't able to mind their business. Still, he felt the glances thrown at him, the dirty stares everybody gave him. The kids, the parents, the couples, heck, even the nasty dogs people carry around for whatever reason. He knew how stupid he looked, they didn't have to remind him that at each step. Soon enough the road felt slippery, leaky, stinging. He knew his shoe quality wasn't that great, but to feel every single hole?
This day went to shit. He'd been planning on doing this for weeks now, but to get such a response? His heart ached. He'd thought maybe he would be faced with a lie, no Lovino I would never cheat on you, I love you! And then he'd have to show him the proof, show him he isn't a wimp breaking down over few sweet words, show him he's smarter than given credit for, but that didn't happen. First thing that bastard did was confirm, heck, he was proud of it. Proud to have hurt another person in such a way. Never before had Lovino felt so pathetic.
Oh what is he talking about, he isn't hurt! Only a weak ass would feel any remorse for themselves. He was going out with an idiot, this was the only ending he could've gotten. It was obvious and he knew it.
Everyone knew it, even his idiotic younger brother and worse, that potato bastard from Germany or whatever. They all knew, they all told him and he knew it too yet it's come to this in the end.
Poor, weak, slow Lovino, once again all by himself. An ending he knew would eventually come knocking to his doors. Something he agreed upon.
So why is he feeling so bad? Why is he feeling betrayed? His stomach twisted at just the thought of ever wanting to be affectionate with that bastard. Ever trusting him.
Stupid.
He was stupid. Him, this god awful country, relationships, family, everything.
Right, family.
He should've called his family. He had a life in Italy, people that knew of him. But would they really help? Right, of course they wouldn't. No one misses him, half probably had already forgotten who he was. And maybe that was a good thing. Lovino never left anything after himself that was in any kind positive, he knew that and had accepted it a long time ago.
He really had no choice. This really was the end.
It'd be better if his family just assumed he were dead. Then they would never have to worry over him again. Then they could all focus on Feliciano, something all of them all his life pretended to not have wanted.
He reached the end of the road, being faced with an empty field full of yellow grass, the snow not making its way to America yet. Everything looked so depressing, the empty trees, the stressed people who forgot to buy gifts for their loved ones, the dirty streets. The alarming amount of the homeless running around, trying to stay alive with the realisation they are nothing but a failure.
Life has failed them and they were left with nothing more but staying on the street, fully knowing everybody aches at the sight of them, even if for the most part, they haven't done anything wrong.
Where the hell was that taxi driver? They agreed on an hour, Lovino was the one showing up late yet the other person was not to be seen anywhere. Had he gotten scammed? Hopefully not, all his left savings were just for this trip. Stupid, of course some jerk from the internet wouldn't be professional, what was he thinking? This is America he's talking about.
After long minutes of standing in one place, receiving dirty glances and little kids pointing at him, the described to him over text car finally pulled up. It looked much worse than how he'd imagined, but that just goes with the cheap price, doesn't it? It was dirty and had obvious even from a distance dents over one of the doors. The rest of it looked pretty okay, maybe even expensive.
He wanted to pinch himself, but the car's driver was now waving at him through the opened window with an overjoyed grin. Lovino sighed, making his way towards the American, whose face grimaced once he did so, not slickly looking him up and down with disgust. Or so it was evident he was as Lovino didn't have the guts to look at his face. He could feel the stare and it was all he needed.
God dammit, does everyone have a problem with rusty clothes? It's not like half of the teenagers he passed by looked any better, yet people didn't seem to have such a problem with them.
Entering the car, neither of the men's frowns disappeared. Lovino was glad the driver had turned off whatever punk music he'd been blasting that could be heard word to word from the distance. He had heard a big chunk of loud noise that day already.
He felt the driver looking him up and down in the mirror, taking short glances. At the very least, he stayed quiet, the Italian very thankful for that. Last thing he wanted was one of those drivers who had made being extroverts their whole thing. Being able to talk to people is nothing to be proud of. Most of so called social butterflies are simply loud and annoying in reality. His little brother was like that too, and that infuriated Lovino deeply. Living with Feliciano was hell, the moment he had the chance to move out it'd felt like a blessing.
His breath skipped a bit at the thought of his brother. He wonders, how is Feliciano? What is he doing right now?
Will he miss Lovino?
He won't, definetly won't. Feliciano has his own life, a career, soon maybe even a family. He wouldn't have the time to notice his stupid brother was gone. And if he would, he'd be more happy than anything. Lovino is simply doing his family a favor.
"Rough day, huh?" the driver broke the comfortable silence, noticing Lovino's lips trembling, the grimace on his face more pathetic with each passing second.
"Shut up and do your job, idiot" Lovino scoffed, crossing his arms and looking away from the small mirror, now glaring at the passerbyes through the window. A simple glance at his own face and Lovino could tell just how pitiful he looked. The last thing he wished for was for some stranger to feel compassion towards him. He doesn't need it.
"Is what I'm doing, thank you very much. Eh, I get it dude, my day's been shitty too" Alfred sighed, making Lovino wonder whether he was referring to the car's awful state or some imaginary problem he'd thought of. Looking over the man it was obvious he couldn't have had it any worse. Stupid American had nothing to add. Yet, he kept talking.
"I didn't sleep throughout most of the night" very reassuring, saying that as a taxi driver. "I gotta go visit my family today. Thought I'd use the plane but I gotta take my car too and it's cheaper, ya know? But it's still annoying, I'd buy a new car if I could" another long sigh, a glance at Lovino, then back at the road. "You got any Christmas plans?"
Lovino kept quiet, brows narrowing, hoping the glare he'd thrown across the American had sent a message. Alfred pouted, looking back at the road.
For a European to be acting like that? And an Italian to add? It was like his worldview had scattered, thrown into little pieces that make fishes choke in the sea. Or turtles. Alfred never did try to get his research right. This guy was a hard piece to crack, but there's something obviously wrong with him. The mannerism, clothing. His bags didn't look anything like trip-type luggage, clothes lacking more fashion sense than Mattie's. Alfred was a curious man with still a few minutes left until their destination. He wasn't going to give up this easily, it'd be super lame.
"I'm gonna try and stop my dad from cooking. Oh, and I'm so making a movie marathon. I wanna force my brother to it, but I'm not sure if he'll be free. He's got this lover he keeps visiting and it's annoying as heck, you get me?" this time Alfred received a scoff, Lovino grabbing his forehead before motioning back to the window. "Come on man, a conversation ain't fun if it's one sided like this!"
"Have you maybe thought of shutting up then?" the Italian rolled his eyes, growing visibly more annoyed with each word Alfred dared to spatter. Seriously, do blond show-offs never get the hint?
"Dude, you're boring! I just wanted to play nice" Alfred was confused as to why his posture straightened.
They kept quiet, Alfred humming the last song that played on his playlist before that day. Maybe he just wanted to be mean for no reason, or maybe it was out of spite towards the Italian. He had always followed the trend of acting like a child after all.
Reaching the given address, Alfred already heard the shuffling behind him, on the backseat. A few grumbles in, as he could guess, Italian followed through whatever Lovino was doing. It seemed like he struggled. Just as Alfred was about to push his annoyance aside and help, his eyes caught the sight of the building Lovino had given him the address of.
His breath quickened, taking a short glance at the Italian, who was now ready to open the door, a part of the plastic bag ripped and sticking to his raggedy jacked. Alfred decided not to comment. He had to think quickly.
Too bad he wasn't a professional.
A short beep just as Lovino pressed on the handle.
Alfred felt the lingering glare on the side of his head, staring at the road in front of them, too scared to look at the man behind him. He tried to calm down, failing miserably. The sound of his heart beating kept getting louder, quicker, at a point sending an ache through his chest. But he couldn't compare his situation to the man behind him, could he?
"You… Visiting someone, dude?" his voice was pitched, throat slightly tangling on itself. He gripped the steering wheel, its scratching material sending a wave of comfort across his shaking hands.
"None of your business" Lovino felt his body trembling, weakening. Stupid, pathetic, helpless Lovino. Of course his driver turned out to be a psycho. One bad at being one at that. The temperature in the car was rising up in light speed, his head becoming giddy, brain turning into something of a used sponge. His legs gave up on him, Lovino feeling any control he had left in them fading.
"You-" Alfred forced himself to look at the man. Avoiding his face, he focused on the clothes and luggage more thoroughly.
The clothes were dirty, creased, few stitches sticking out of both his jacket and pants. It was as if he picked them up from the floor after weeks only to throw them on without any second thoughts. Like when you're in high school and oversleep. The bags were completely random, one having a convenience store logo, one old, practically at the brink of falling apart. They weren't full, one seemingly having more soft stuff inside than the other, Alfred deducing the foremost having some other clothes inside.
"You're not about to just… Become homeless of free will, are you man?" another glance at the building. An old homeless center. He'd never been here before, he didn't have to. He also drove homeless people a few times before, not many other willing to choose him over the trustable, checked drivers. And they weren't acting the same as Lovino.
Some were apologetic, some quiet. Some pretended everything was fine, one folded immediately, explaining their situation as if Alfred was not to drive them based on their lives only. They had the money for a ride, so there was no issue, the behavior always baffled him.
On the other hand, Lovino was angry, tired and very obviously stressed. He wasn't used to his situation, was he? Alfred badly wanted to know what happened, aswell as scared the Italian might do something to him if he dared to ask. Lovino wasn't staying calm and it was clear as to why, Alfred wouldn't lie to himself. He also couldn't leave someone in such a situation.
With a deep breath, the American finally found the courage to face Lovino, his eyes slowly making it's way from the man's bags, to his clothing, up to his own.
His eyes were a light shade of brown, said lightness intensifying along with the tears forming inside of them, the shine of fear making its presence known sincerely. Lovino's mouth trembled more than it had earlier, cheeks slightly red, eyebrows shaking from the pressure they were putting against each other. Lovino was afraid, and it was Alfred's fault.
No, not really. Alfred was just trying to help. Whatever the Italian was going through, he wanted to help. That's what heroes do.
"Hey dude, calm down. I, uh. Hey, I'm a taxi driver right. We uh, we kinda take the part of a therapist sometimes too! You're not gonna get one back there" he noticed the way Lovino's eyes flickered outside the window only to throw an even more pained glare at the American right after. Alfred swallowed before continuing. "You can tell me what happened. Before you go" he tried his best to soften his voice, the note of fear making itself obvious at the action.
"Pezzo di merda!"
A plastic bag, the latter, less soft, flew across the car, knocking Alfred's glasses off his face.
"Dude- what the fuck?!" he tried to find his glasses, seeing only the blurry reflection of his passenger. The only way he could tell what he was feeling was by sounds, which consisted of lots, lots of insults.
"What, you think this is some kind of game, eh? Just leave me alone and go on with your day, bastard!" his wording was surprisingly steady, in opposition to the rest of him. Fists gripped his jacket, legs staying in one place as if numb. Alfred still couldn't tell what kind of face the Italian was making, but he assumed not much had changed from the last time he'd seen it.
"Chill out man, is saying one sentence really that hard for you? I took you for less of a wimp!" Alfred blurted out, comically covering his mouth right after. Giving up on looking for glasses he stiffened, waiting for a response. The car went oddly silent.
"I don't owe you shit, jerk" his voice was trembling as it quieted down almost to a whisper. Alfred felt something gripping his insides.
"Look- I'm sorry man, I really am trying to help!" he whined.
"Help, eh? Trying to help? How exactly? Are you gonna go, take every other person and ask them the same, hm? Let me go already!" the backseat slightly squeaked, hinting at Lovino's movement. Alfred felt the Italian being closer to him, concluding he must've leaned forward. Silently, he hoped he wasn't about to be punched now that he was close to blind.
Panicking, Alfred found words staying in his throat, breath almost dissapearing, lungs too heavy to work. He stayed on his sit motionlessly, waiting for whatever was to come, forcing himself to keep his eyes opened. He really was stupid, exactly like they all said. Why would he ever assume this would be a good idea? He's not Peter Parker, he doesn't have the smarts, the powers, nothing.
He heard a quiet sob. Then the seat screeched again, in an opposite manner to previous. The warmth of another person was gone.
For a few minutes, the sobs were the only sounds in the car, somehow making the low temperature hit more roughly than originally. To not ruin it, Alfred decided not to speak, let the moment happen. Maybe if he doesn't intervene, the chances of success are higher. Maybe he should give himself more credit in his heroism in the meantime.
Alfred could feel the puffs of his breath against the cold around him, aswell as the sting of it each time he breathed in. He bit his cheek as to put frustration elsewhere. Overally, he could state he's calm, at least for his standards.
Without a sense of vision, his other senses were easier to spot, making their presence known harshly. He could hear each breath of the other man, each movement, each passing car or person. Hopefully standing here for so long was neither suspicious or illegal.
At the thought, the grip on his chest seemed to loosen, shoulders lightly relaxing. He breathed out slowly, noting his lungs weren't following nor doing any better.
The cold became more bearable.
Soon enough, the moment passed, Lovino's breathing only getting worse. Instead of sobs, finally there was a glimpse of subordination. The Italian's head hurt, throat more raspy with each word, more pathetic with every single thought running around his head.
Of course, of course he's vulnerable around some random American that took pity on him! One person with a glint of more patience than his family and there he is, bawling his eyes out like a six year old kid. His grandpa would laugh at him, his brother give him that stupid pitying look. Worst, the German bastard would probably ask what's wrong?, as if he cared anyways. Then Feliciano would nod with that stupid, mindless smile of his, witnessing his brother being the worse, disgraceful one once again. Cherry on top, their grandpa would join in and instead of focusing on the problem ask Feliciano, the calm one, what was wrong. It always goes like that and here he is, locked up in some old, wretched car with a psychopathic stranger, in a god awful country far too far away from his home, deciding to trust his possible murderer with his ridiculous problems.
Great, just great. Exactly what he needed. Guess here's the confirmation of who he really is. A reliant, useless jerk.
"My fucking boyfriend cheated on me. I- I don't have anywhere to go to, any money or- anything! There's my fate, right there" he pointed outside the window, only now noticing the lack of glasses on his driver. "God dammit… There you go, happy? My life has ended, you can't do shit about it"
Alfred stayed quiet.
"I thought- well I was sure he loved me. Ugh, it was so obvious he didn't, cazzo! Only thing he ever did was buy me shit, not ever being, I don't know, a boyfriend?" he stopped here, reminding himself of his own behavior. Always refusing affection, each time getting angry once it did occur. He wasn't sure of his feelings and now he had to face the consequences of it. Maybe it was his fault after all. Maybe they're right, he just wasn't… "I wasn't enough for his stupid ass and he left me for some fucking lolled up chick"
He fully relied on him. Now he had nothing left.
The hold on his throat made it unable to speak further, nor make any other sound for that matter. Lovino knew well if he attempted to say one more thing, nothing but an embarrassing noise would escape his mouth instead, only underlining how laughable he really was. He's not doing that.
"I'm really sorry" Alfred's voice cracked. "The guy seems like a jerk, you know. Man, I don't know your life story or anything, but the one cheating does stuff wrong, you know that? No matter the situation, really" he struggled to find the right words, never before having to deal with such a problem. Lovino groaned.
Trying to collect his thoughts, Alfred focused on looking for his glasses once again, before a hot hand hadn't touched his arm. He jumped, snapping his head around, knowing well he wouldn't see much either way.
"There, bastard. Stop moving around so much or your stupid car's gonna look as bad inside" Lovino handed him the glasses, moving away right after. His voice was dry, lower than before.
Putting his glasses on, Alfred finally had a chance to see his passenger's face. His eyes were squirmed, glaring out the window, puffy with tears still forming in them, though slower than during a crying episode. Chin was still trembling, lips following the motion lightly, cheeks having dark marks of the tears flowing on them just now. His bangs were curling, slightly wet. On in all, the man looked miserable, making Alfred's heart clutch once again.
Is this what losing your life looks like? Is this what all those homeless people he'd driven before felt once? Every day? Was he simply this ignorant, oblivious, letting them go without offering any help?
He sighed, turning back to face the street. He felt Lovino glancing at him, waiting for the door to open. But that's not happening, the American decided. He had let many people go, he's not now that he knows the cost. Clenching his teeth, he turned the car back on, beginning to drive away before the Italian could attack him.
"What the fuck are you doing?" he trembled, screaming out a bit later than Alfred had thought he would've, it sounding a bit like a choke.
"Alright dude. Say, your family's in Italy?"
Lovino scoffed before answering. "Stop prying into my business, jerk!"
"Wherever they are or whoever they are… I told you about mine, yeah?" he inhaled, taking a turn for the highway. His voice was shaking. "I'm going to Canada, back to my parents. And you're coming with me!" he faked enthusiasm, forcing himself to grin yet keeping his eyes focused on the road more than ever, hands gripping on the steering wheel.
"Hell are you talking about, bastard? Are you trying to fucking kidnap me?!"
"No, I'm trying to help!"
"Help?! I don't need help from some idiotic, monkey-looking American bastard!" Lovino threw his arms around, voice louder with each sentence. His vision was slightly blurry but he didn't feel any tears, though it was hard to tell considering his senses focused on gripping his brain.
"But- dude, you just said you have nothing left! I'm trying to help!" he was tired of repeating.
"So that's what it is? You took pity on some poor, poor man? What, are you gonna pick up every other homeless person and kidnap them too, eh, bastardo!"
Alfred nervously glanced around the windows, forcing himself to focus on the highway. Thankfully not many other cars were there, but they were surrounded by a huge pile of nothing. The chances an animal was going to show up out of nowhere and lead to their deaths were very high. Even if they did survive, said animal probably wouldn't, which would be depressing on itself. He hadn't noticed Lovino going quiet, staring at him, or leaning forward.
His right hand was snatched away from the wheel, the car taking a harsh turn to the left as his other arm stiffened. Not a second passed before he reacted, quickly moving the car back to its correct position and glancing at the backseat.
"What the fuck are you doing?!" Alfred screamed, both receiving and reciprocating a nervous glare.
"You're not taking me anywhere, asshole!" Lovino continued to pull his arm away, muscles quickly beginning to hurt from the sudden movement. He couldn't tell for sure, but if something broke inside them, he wouldn't be surprised.
"Are you trying to kill us?! This won't let you do shit!" he snapped, any taught reaction escaping his mind, instead glancing at the road once in a while, still going forward.
"And so what if I do, eh? Living in prison don't sound so bad" the Italian pulled the arm further away, himself moving closer in an attempt to grab the wheel.
Spontaneously, Alfred kicked the brake, head hitting the window, Lovino first falling on his arm then back to the backseat with a screech. On the middle of the highway, both tried to find their breaths, the driver proving to be surprisingly more professional in this matter.
Slowly, he leaned back on his seat, massaging his forehead with a groan. He decided to ignore the clear panting behind him.
For a few minutes, it was almost quiet.
Alfred looked around, making sure there were no cars. One did appear, but he didn't find it in himself to move, thankful to the other driver for only honking and driving around.
Lovino struggled to control his breath, the headache more apparent once the outside became silent. He could feel his heartbeat all around his body, everywhere but the chest.
"I'm sorry" the American sighed, catching his passenger's attention once again. "I do want to help people. I didn't… didn't earlier" he moved his head back, forcing eye contact. "You seem so… I don't know. Just thought your life shouldn't just end like that"
Lovino was surprised with how soft the man in front of him suddenly became. If he called the police, sued him or even tried to attack him back, he wouldn't be surprised. But he didn't. Not even his grandpa ever stayed this patient.
Not even his brother, not any of his caretakers, not any of his partners. Not even him himself.
He looked outside. The gray sky had not changed, morning still apparent. The cold in the car was much worse than on the outside, not to mention the company making him nauseous. His clothes were as raggedy as the seats, windows a bit dirty, making the outside blurry. The state of his bags was worse than he'd imagined, one half ripped open from all the struggle, one old in general.
His breath calmed down ever so lightly.
…
"Fine" he grumbled.
"Hm?"
"Fine. You wanna take me to Canada, do it. Fine" he repeated, crossing his arms in an attempt for comfort, a sense of a hug. He refused to look at the American's reaction, staring back at the window. He hadn't noticed how far away from the city they've driven already, nothing but empty space visible outside.
Alfred's eyes widened, breath skipping a few beats. His whole body felt exhausting to keep in piece, muscles relaxing all at once, a big wave of weariness hitting him.
He hummed, nodding, before adapting back to the needed position and turning the car back on aswell. A glimpse of a smile made its way through his face.
He chose not to think of the consequences of what he were about to do. Not yet.