Chapter Text
The rattle of the passenger train prevented the solitary young man from resting his eyes as cities and forests zipped past. He stared listlessly out the window, dark circles under his eyes more pronounced than they had ever been. He kept a hand on the battered suitcase on the seat next to him, as if worried someone would walk by and take it, though there was nothing of value inside, and he was the only one in the train car at present.
The man clutched the cross that hung at his chest with trembling hands, and he let out a shaky breath before letting go of the cross and covering his eyes. He tried in vain to conceal his sobs, but they wouldn’t have been heard over the rattling of the train.
“Y-you’re telling him?”
“Did you expect me not to?”
“I… I don’t know!”
“I think you do.”
His voice caught in his throat, and panic welled inside him. He was terrified.
“We both know it was wrong, so, so, wrong… That’s why I… I have to say something.”
He suddenly realised he was shaking.
“Don’t look at me like that! We took a vow— You took a vow, and broke it, without a second thought!”
“You’re acting like you had no part in this!” his voice struggled to find its way out of him. He wanted to scream.
“I’m not, I’m admitting that what we did was perverse .”
That single word felt like a knife to the heart. Oh, why didn’t God strike him down immediately? He felt like he would die of shame, with the realisation that this wouldn’t stay between them. No, it would absolutely find its way to the ears of everyone. Even if it didn’t, it would be obvious that they had done something horrible enough to seem different.
“I’m begging you–” he said, panic clawing its way into his tone. “ Please , don’t say anything, don’t tell—” He was cut off.
“How can you even say that? Do you hear yourself right now? You devoted yourself to God— That’s why you’re here! That’s why—”
He sniffed, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. It seemed he couldn’t decide whether to feel nothing, or to feel everything . That one action ruined everything he had worked on, and to top it all off, he was a coward, running from his mistakes. Well, it’s not like he could run from God, could he…
Looking back out the window, he started to whisper the Lord’s prayer, but stopped halfway through.
✤✤✤✤✤
Lovino grabbed his pack of rolled wafers from the counter and shoved them in his apron pocket on the way out of the restaurant. He decided to take his break before the dishroom got hectic again. After all, it was only him in there. For some reason the others had left a few weeks ago.
He went straight to his usual spot, the stone fence that lined the street and looked over the canal in front of Grandpa’s restaurant. With a sigh, he rested his elbows atop the fence for a few moments before taking the wafers out. He stared at the smooth, dark water while absentmindedly munching away, savouring the chocolate.
It was relatively quiet at the moment, at least before someone else decided to chill at the same spot he did. Somebody speaking very animatedly parked himself a few feet away, leaning against the wall, his back to the canal.
After listening for a few moments, Lovino realised they were speaking German. What's a German guy doing all the way out here? He thought. It was rare to get tourists in this area, and when they did, it was usually people on business.
Even though he couldn't understand a lick of German, he didn't want to seem like he was eavesdropping, and he was doing his best not to seem like he was examining him. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed this guy looked, well, extremely badass, to say the least. Though his platinum blond hair had an atrocious haircut, unlike anything he'd seen before, that point quickly didn't matter as Lovino observed the rest of this person's appearance.
He wore a pair of black studs in his ears, and two other black piercings near the top of his ears. Various black tattoos starkly contrasted the almost ghostly white of his skin. On the arm he could see, there was an intricately inked snake that wrapped around his upper arm–
Lovino caught himself before staring for too long, and took another wafer out of the package. Well, now he really wanted to know what this guy was talking about on the phone.
The man laughed suddenly, quite a rough and gravelly laugh, but in no way mirthless. Though the sudden burst of noise made Lovino jump. After a few more words, it seemed he had ended his phone call. It was quiet for a moment before the man directly addressed Lovino.
“I can tell you were dying to know what I was talking about,” he said in perfect Italian, his mouth slanted into a smirk.
Lovino stared, flabbergasted, his cheeks dusted with pink, having just been called out. “Wh– huh?” he was completely caught off guard by the seamless change in accent. “I…”
The man laughed again, in a playful manner.
Holy shit, Lovino thought, this guy is cool as fuck. “Well, so what if I want to know… it's weird to have a tourist all the way out here, especially this time of year.”
“See, that's where you're wrong. Technically, I'm as Italian as you are.”
“Bullshit,” Lovino found himself laughing.
He seemed to find Lovino’s disbelief amusing. “I don’t have to prove myself to anyone,” he grinned, “believe what you want.” He flexed his hand, which was covered by a black biking glove. “The name’s Gilbert, by the way.”
“Last name?” Lovino asked, clearly wanting to tease the man he’d only just met a few seconds ago.
Gilbert snorted, “Beilschmidt. Say,” he nodded his head to the restaurant in front of them. “This place any good?”
“Fuck yes it is,” Lovino said confidently, “That’s my grandpa’s place.”
“Sweet, I’ll give it a try.”
“Just don’t order too many dishes,” Lovino said, turning to leave.
“Why’s that?”
“Because I don’t want to wash more than I have to.” He waved vaguely before disappearing down the alleyway.
Gilbert shook his head in amusement, realising that the young man never gave his name. He shrugged, sauntering over to the restaurant, ready for a good meal.
A spritely young man similar in appearance to the one he had just been talking to outside greeted him the second he entered the small restaurant.
“Hello,” he smiled, grabbing a menu from the bussing station and leading him through the dining area. It wasn’t terribly busy, a few groups scattered throughout the room. The waiter motioned to a seat by the window. After watching Gilbert take his seat, he set the menu in front of him on the table. He suddenly spoke in English, though with a very heavy accent. “If you need help with the menu…”
Gilbert put his hand up gently. “No need.”
“Oh!” the waiter laughed, “I’m so sorry, I thought—”
“Happens all the time,” he smiled with a nod before scanning the menu. “I’ll have the pork and risotto, with a salad.”
“And what wine would you like with that?”
Gilbert hummed, “Whatever you think will go best.”
The waiter wrote the order down in his book with an excited smile and went to the back, throwing himself through the swinging doors.
“Grandpa, the coolest guy ever just came into the restaurant!” he squealed, tearing the order from his notebook.
Lovino appeared from the dishroom. “He probably heard you with how loud you just yelled that, Feli.”
“If you saw him you’d do the same.”
“I did, and I didn’t go prancing around like a schoolgirl.”
Feliciano stuck his tongue out at his brother before exiting to check on the other guests.
Lovino reciprocated the gesture and snapped his black kitchen gloves onto his hands and trudged back to the sink, where a pile of various dishes was growing. He didn’t hear another word about Gilbert for quite some time, but he did eventually get his dishes, or at least what he was assuming to be his dishes.
Back in the dining area, Gilbert flagged Feliciano down, already having paid for his meal some time ago.
“I noticed that painting over there,” he pointed to the opposite wall, where a painting bathed in sunlight hung. It depicted an ethereal-looking woman surrounded by white geese napping in a flowery field, a few with their heads in her lap. The woman was looking at the viewer with a faint smile, a finger to her mouth as if saying “Shhh, they’re sleeping.”
“Oh, yes,” said Feliciano.
“It’s for sale, right?”
Feliciano nodded, trying to hide his surprise. It was rare for anyone to express interest in actually purchasing his art, and with the punkish appearance of Gilbert, he was doubly surprised. The only other people who bought his art were really old people who he had trouble understanding, and that was once in a blue moon.
“I want to buy it but…”
“I can lower the price, if it’s too much,” he said suddenly, as if rehearsed.
“Not at all,” Gilbert shook his head, “I actually think you need to charge more. Way more. ”
Feliciano stared at the painting on the wall. “I… didn’t think anyone would buy it if I charged a lot, and I thought 50 euros was fair…”
“It’s a great painting!” Gilbert said with passion, his voice quite a bit louder than before.
“Oh, thank you…” he said, suddenly shy.
“So you need to charge accordingly.” Gilbert started writing a check. “You’re only asking for 50 euros, but with the size, and… How long did it take you?”
“About a month, I think.”
“Yeah, you should be charging way more…” he put his signature on the piece of paper.
While he did so, Feliciano walked over to the wall and took the painting down, examining it with newfound appreciation. He wrapped it in paper and put it in a brown paper bag. He set the bag in front of Gilbert, laying it carefully on the table.
“My grandpa was saying that too, but—”
“No ‘buts,’” he grinned, handing the check to Feliciano. “Trust me, there are people out there willing to pay a helluva lot more than you realise.” After putting his wallet back in his pocket, he stood and smiled again. “Thanks for the meal, best I’ve had in a while.”And with that, he sauntered back outside, the brown paper bag securely under his arm, and disappeared around the corner.
Feliciano could only stare, astonished. After shaking himself back to reality, he looked down at the check Gilbert had written. He had to blink several times to make sure he was reading it correctly.
Nearly flying, he ran back towards the kitchen.
“Hey, Feli can you–”
“Just a moment!” he replied to the guest that had waved him down on his way. “Grandpa, grandpa! You’ll never believe it!”
Grandpa was in the midst of drizzling sauce on a dish, but he looked up. “Mm? What is it?”
“That guy– he— he bought one of my paintings!” he was bouncing up and down in elation.
“That’s great, Feli!” he made a move to give his grandson a hug, but Feliciano waved the check excitedly.
“He gave me 400 euros for it!”
“Four— Four hundred?” Grandpa grinned, almost picking Feliciano up in a hug. “Well, look at you!”
Feliciano laughed happily. “This much will help the restaurant, right?”
Grandpa sighed. “I can’t take that from you, kiddo—”
“Of course you can. You said it yourself earlier— every bit helps!”
Lovino listened from around the corner. He didn’t say anything, and decided to pretend he didn’t hear anything at all, sending another crate through the dishwasher.
✤✤✤✤✤
Feliciano pranced ahead of Grandpa and Lovino down the cobblestone street, still bubbling from earlier. He was probably going to start on another painting the second they got home.
Lovino scrunched his eyes shut with a sigh, trailing a bit behind Grandpa.
“What’s the matter?” Grandpa asked, slowing his pace to match his grandson.
“Nothing.” He was perfectly fine complaining about little things, like the weather, or something Feliciano had said, but… He didn’t want to complain about the restaurant. He didn’t want to disappoint Grandpa. He didn’t exactly care for dishwashing, and he wasn’t allowed to be a waiter anymore, but if it was keeping the restaurant afloat then…
“It’s about the restaurant, isn’t it?” said Grandpa, patting him on the shoulder.
Damn. Was it that obvious? Lovino answered quietly. “N-no, it’s not–”
“C’mon, spit it out, Lovi, you won’t hurt my feelings,” he gave a reassuring smile.
No way. He wasn’t going to. Instead, a different thought came out of his mouth. “I’m not helping,” he said without thinking, “not like Feli is…”
“Oh, don’t start that again…”
“But it’s true!” Lovino said, trying not to yell. “Customers tip him like crazy and— and the painting—”
“Lovino, stop,” Grandpa said quietly, shutting him up without another word. “You need to stop comparing yourself to Feli, yeah? You’re doing your best, and it’s a big help to me.” He gave Lovino another pat on the shoulder. “How about we pull some gelato out of the freezer when we get back?”
“Yay!” Feliciano cheered, falling back and linking arms with Lovino and Grandpa, swinging their arms. “Wasn’t today great…” he smiled, staring up at the darkening sky.
Lovino stayed quiet for the rest of the walk home, watching a lone canal boat float quietly along some ways ahead of them.