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Arthur woke up next to Antonio.
That meant nothing in and of itself – there had been plenty of times when they had passed out drunk and woke to hangovers. Both of them would antagonise each other while they tried to recover, Antonio being unnecessarily loud and Arthur opening the curtains so the sun blinded Antonio. They were good friends, after all.
But Arthur hated – hated – waking up next to Antonio on days like these, in a bed with him. Being in his bed with Antonio's even breathing beside him meant that that had happened again. That was confirmed when Arthur shifted and felt the slide of the covers along his naked body. His arse ached from the activities the night before and he almost groaned in shame.
It wasn't that Arthur hated having sex with Antonio. He loved it. Arthur wasn't entirely sure when he had deviated from thinking of the fellow university student as one of his closest friends to having a massive crush on him but it had happened. And, as time wore on, he had become acutely aware that it was getting worse.
Nights and mornings like these didn't help.
Realising that tears were about to fall, Arthur slid from under Antonio's possessive arm – not for him, never for him – and crossed the room. Unable to face a shower or bending to pull on some boxers, he grabbed his dressing gown and wrapped it tightly around him. Then he made his way through the flat to the kitchen and his much-needed tea.
Quietly, he moved around the room, gathering his supplies and putting on the kettle. He was on automatic as he cast his mind back to remember the night before. Nodding to himself, he confirmed that it had been the same as normal. Antonio had arrived at his flat in tears because of, once again, Lovino Vargas.
While Arthur had fallen for his friend, Antonio had become enamoured with the Italian. Arthur wouldn't have minded, would have wished them well if it weren't for the fact that Lovino merely strung the man along. In fact, Arthur was sure Lovino was completely straight, considering. From what Antonio had told him, they had never had sex and Lovino never acknowledged their relationship as anything other than friends.
Every few months, Lovino would find himself a girlfriend. Antonio, still considered a confidant by Lovino, would be told straight away in somewhat cheerful excitement. Upset and hurt, Antonio would always, always, find his way to Arthur's place. Seeing his loved one hurt meant that Arthur couldn't bring himself to turn Antonio away, despite several people telling him that piece of advice. Instead, he would invite him in, hand him some wine and they would drink the night away. Or, more recently, Antonio would drink more, faster, and get drunk. Arthur would try to comfort him as he babbled on about Lovino and how much he loved him and hated the poor girl in the middle of it all.
Then Antonio would practically launch himself at Arthur, hug him and then kiss him. Unable to resist him, Arthur would lead him to his bed and they would have sex there. Unfortunately for Arthur, Antonio seemed to be unable to look at him while they did it, a point of consternation for Arthur. And every time they woke up, Antonio would act like their situation was natural.
It broke Arthur's heart.
Especially when, after one such night, Arthur had told Antonio how he felt about him. Antonio had laughed it off, saying Arthur couldn't be because he was Antonio's friend. The pain Arthur had felt that day had been pushed aside and buried so he could continue being just that.
With his cup of tea sorted, Arthur brought himself out of his musings and made his way to the kitchen table. He settled there, staring at the cup and thinking of his friends. Many had told him not to associate with Antonio any more. Kiku had even tried to get him to study abroad a year but Arthur couldn't bring himself to leave Antonio behind. His cousin Francis had told him several times that their relationship was unhealthy.
Actually... What was it Francis had said recently? This can't go on, Arthur. Think of your future. Do you really want to be second best for the rest of your life?
Suddenly, Arthur's hands shook and he had to carefully place his teacup on the table. The tears were sudden and painful when they came. For he'd imagined the future and, with the way things were going, he would never be able to do everything he wanted. He'd be tied to Antonio forever, making sure he could comfort his crush.
It was more than a crush – it was love.
And, suddenly, Arthur was crying. He tried to keep quiet, not wanting to wake Antonio and let him see. His muffled sobs were great, heart-wrenching things as he tried to catch his breath. He could almost feel his heart breaking, the massive pain in his chest making it harder to breathe. Grasping at his heart, he took hold of his robe, pulling at it a little in an effort to loosen it despite how loose it already was.
He couldn't go on like this.
Determination to tell Antonio exactly how he felt calmed Arthur somewhat. Taking great gasps of air, Arthur rubbed at his eyes in an effort to get rid of his tears. He would have to wash his face before he spoke to Antonio; he didn't want Antonio to worry.
“Arthur?” mumbled a sleepy voice behind him. Startled, Arthur gasped and swivelled on his chair to stare, wide-eyed, at Antonio. He was completely naked, that tanned body delectable in every way. His hair was a mess and he was squinting at Arthur. Then he seemed to see something and his eyes widened as well. “Arthur?! Are you... crying?”
“No!” Arthur protested, turning again to hide his tear-streaked face. He rubbed at his cheeks, frantically trying to dry them.
Footsteps hurried closer and Antonio appeared by his side. Bending over, Antonio hugged Arthur, pulling his head into Antonio's chest. Arthur stopped breathing for a second: part of him revelled in the closeness; the other wanted nothing more than to run. “Arthur,” Antonio mumbled, soothingly. “You can tell me what's wrong, you know. I'm your friend. Has someone hurt you?”
A mixture of relief and sorrow and love and rage hit Arthur suddenly. He squirmed until he could push Antonio away, trying not to look down. “I... It's...”
“Did Francis say something again? Was Alfred bullying-?”
Without warning, Arthur snapped. “It's you!” he shouted, leaping to his feet, fists clenched. “You're the one-! It's your fault!”
Antonio blinked, utterly clueless. “Huh?”
“I love you!” Arthur stopped, surprised he had said it. He hadn't meant to at that moment but it was the only way to get Antonio to understand. “I love you... And you're too busy with Lovino to realise that! I was perfectly clear how I felt two years ago and yet... And yet... Look at us! What are we doing?”
“Tha-” Antonio looked shaken, his mouth opening and closing as he tried to grasp the words. “That's... different. You're my friend. I can't... think of you...”
“I know,” Arthur said, suddenly feeling exhausted. “I know, all right? I know you love Lovino. There's no-one else for you. But... I don't understand why you keep doing this...” Arthur felt himself shrink in on himself, utterly despondent.
A pair of arms wrapped around him and Antonio pulled Arthur into a hug. Arthur was too shocked and incensed to push him away. “It's not like that...” Antonio said, hesitantly, as if he wasn't sure himself. “I like Lovi and I want to be with him. But... I like you just the same. I mean... It's hard to explain.”
Pushing Antonio away, Arthur stepped out of reach. “No. You can't... You can't say that! That sounds like you... Like you like me, too! You can't just-!” He stopped and took a breath, hurt and confused. After a moment, he whispered, “Do you mean that you like us both equally? But that, when Lovino pays you attention, you'd rather be with him?”
“Mm. Sí! That sounds right!” Antonio sounded happy to have been understood but Arthur couldn't bear to look at him.
“No. No, that's not...” Arthur swallowed and prepared himself to do the hardest thing he had ever done, something he suddenly knew he had to do for both their sakes. “I can't do this any more, Antonio. Don't... Don't come 'round here when Lovino starts dating a girl again. Don't come here when Lovino rejects you. And-And get out of my flat. Now.”
“Huh? Arthur, what do you-?”
“Get out!” Arthur roared, head snapping up to glare at Antonio. The poor Spaniard looked shocked but Arthur didn't bother to rein in his anger and despair. “Get out right now! I'm saying what I mean!” Panting from the outburst, Arthur continued to glare at Antonio who was beginning to look hurt. “Get out,” Arthur whispered. He turned his back on Antonio, reaching out for his tea but he stopped when he realised he was shaking. “I'm not a second option, Antonio,” he said when he realised that Antonio still hadn't moved. “You either choose me or you lose me. Because I cannot be around you right now. Maybe never. Just... get out. Please.”
There was a brief silence. Then, blessedly, he heard Antonio move away and back into the flat. Arthur stayed where he was, frozen, head down, back turned to the door. Finally, he heard Antonio move down the hall towards the front door. It sounded as though he paused at the kitchen door but Arthur couldn't be sure; the next thing he heard was the front door swinging shut.
With a heavy breath, Arthur placed a hand on the wall to keep himself standing. It didn't work for very long – his knees buckled and he slid down the wall to collapse beside his seat, tears falling freely now as he openly cried. Clutching at his aching chest, he curled in on himself, equal parts horrified and relieved at what he had just done.
His tea went cold.
Six weeks later, Arthur had thrown himself into his work for his Masters degree. Since his was a Literature course, he was able to stay in his flat and order in the books he needed. For those he couldn't, he made sure to go to the library too early or late to be seen by friends. He honestly wanted to be alone and succeeded in isolating himself from everyone.
Amazingly, he also managed to ignore Antonio. The Spaniard texted and called him every day but Arthur never answered nor read the messages. It was too painful for him to think of Antonio – every time he did, his heart clenched and he had to take several deep breaths to keep from crying.
After several nightmares and horrible – and deliciously delectable and decidedly naughty – dreams, Arthur took to working till he fell asleep in his work area. Over three weeks, he had done the meat of his research and two weeks after that, he had written up a lot of that year's dissertation. For the last week he had been finding extra information to add to his essay.
He was beginning to run out of things to occupy himself with.
Several times he thought he would have to find another part-time job just to have something to do. Every time he did, he remembered that that would mean people would find him easily. Antonio would find him easily.
So today Arthur stood within a tidy living room. He wasn't messy by any means but now his books were in a better order and his films were – on the whim of a moment – colour-coordinated. Everything was spick and span and the coffee table shone. There was no visible sign of dust and Arthur had even lifted up the cushions of the couch to recover anything that had been lost there. As a result, the couch had been hoovered. Everything had been hoovered, actually.
Proud of himself, Arthur looked to the clock and groaned. It was only the early afternoon and he was already finished with his chores. Should he give himself a break and catch up on TV programmes he hadn't been paying attention to? Memories of Antonio excitedly suggesting something to watch came to Arthur and he gasped at the almost physical pain. So, no to the TV idea, he decided.
“Well,” he said to himself, “there's always the other rooms of the flat.”
That was when the intercom for the flat buzzed. Arthur jumped and looked over his shoulder at the receiver in the hall. Who would be coming to his place? He'd pretty effectively told everyone to stay away. Curious, he made his way over and picked it up, placing it to his ear with a frown.
“Hello?” he said.
“Arthur,” said the unmistakable voice of Antonio. Arthur stopped breathing when he heard it. “It's me.”
After a suitable pause where Arthur willed Antonio to say what he wanted and leave, he realised that Antonio was waiting for a response from him. “What do you want?” Arthur demanded, tone harsh.
“Please let me in.” Antonio sounded quiet, subdued: Arthur had never heard him like that before. It made him falter, letting out a breath. Antonio seemed to think that it was a sigh because he added, “I need to talk to you.”
Opening his mouth, Arthur was about to refuse. Then he found himself saying, “Fine. This had better be good.” With that, he was pressing the button to unlock the main door of the flats and hanging up the intercom. He froze there, staring at it, unsure why he had done that.
His heart began to pound – he was about to see Antonio again! He was about to see Antonio again... The thought both cheered him and sent him into despair. Why did Antonio want to talk to him? What could he possibly have to say? Did he realise that an apology and a 'return' to the 'way things were' wouldn't cut it? Or did he have bad news? Had Lovino finally accepted him? Were they dating? Were they about to get married? Was Antonio going to be a giant jerk and ask him to be his best man? Or did he think Arthur should hear about it from him rather than something else?
A sudden loud knocking on his front door startled Arthur from his panic and he hurried to answer it. He had unlocked and begun to open it before he remembered who was there. There was barely enough time to take a steadying breath before he was looking at Antonio for the first time since that day.
At first glance, Antonio seemed his normal, handsome self, wearing comfortable clothes which were still tight enough to leave Arthur staring. However, Arthur also noticed that his smile was gone and he wasn't pouting or wailing about some injustice done to him. His hair was tousled and more of a mess than normal. Finally, Arthur looked at his eyes and noticed that they were red-rimmed.
Arthur had only seen Antonio's eyes like that on those nights.
“No,” Arthur said and made to close the door.
“Wait, please, Arthur. Let me speak!” Antonio cried, looking frantic.
Pausing, Arthur glared at him. “This had better be good.”
“Let me in.”
“Why should I? If this is to do with Lovino again, I don't want you in-”
“It's not! I swear.”
Staring at him, Arthur weighed his options. At times, Antonio could be stubborn – pestering Lovino for a date being a prime example – and, if he truly didn't want to talk at the door, Arthur would never find out why he had bothered to show up. Yet, if he brought him into his flat, they could end up in bed and Arthur really, really didn't want to restart what he'd barely managed to bring to an end. Slowly, staring at Antonio suspiciously, Arthur asked, “Is it important?”
“Sí,” was Antonio's immediate response.
Reluctantly, cautiously, eagerly, Arthur stepped out of the way. Antonio darted inside as if he thought Arthur would slam the door on him. Then, without being invited, he made his way inside, heading to the living room. Sighing, Arthur closed and locked the door, slowing his movements as he tried to think of what Antonio could have to say that was important. His thoughts went around in circles and, with a quiet growl, he forced himself to stop thinking about it and actually find out.
When he re-entered his living room, Antonio had seated himself on his customary side of the couch. Arthur felt a pang in his heart at the familiarity and he forcibly pushed it aside, marching towards him. Instead of sitting, however, he stood above him, arms crossed. They stared at each other and neither moved until Arthur began to get angry and raised an eyebrow.
“Arturo,” Antonio began but Arthur cut him off.
“My name is Arthur,” he told him. “You don't deserve to call me anything else.”
“Lo sien- Sorry,” murmured Antonio, lowering his gaze to the floor. “Sorry, Arthur. I'm sorry.”
Blinking, Arthur stared at him. “What? Sorry for what? For barging in here? For coming here when-?”
“I'm sorry for everything.” Antonio looked up at Arthur: he looked determined and frightened and far too tense. Arthur could feel his anger begin to crumble and he grabbed hold of it, hoping to shield himself from that intense gaze.
“Well,” he said. “You should be. Now get out. Go back to Lovino-”
“No.”
Stopped in his tracks, Arthur did a double take. “What?”
“I don't...” Antonio paused to take a breath, glancing away briefly before looking at Arthur directly. “I don't want Lovi.”
After another short silence, Arthur said, “What?” Then he thought about it a little more. If Lovino had begun dating another girl, Antonio would be lonely and desperate again. Perhaps he had come here hoping to be accepted and was now saying what Arthur wanted to hear to be comforted again. Scowling, Arthur shook his head in disbelief. “Are you lying to me?”
Antonio looked down at his lap for a moment. Then he raised his head and shook it. “I'm saying this wrong. I want Lovino. I do. But... I don't want to lose you, either.”
“You can't have both of us,” Arthur snapped, gripping his arm tightly in order to keep himself from crying again.
“I know that. Arthur, when I met Lovi, I was immediately entranced. You know that. But... Seeing him with other people hurt. And when he came back to me and then cast me aside over and over... That put a stain on his personality, one I couldn't totally ignore. I pushed it aside as often as I could and never told anyone about how I was losing respect for him – not even you. I wasn't ready to admit it.”
A little hurt at only just discovering this information, Arthur frowned. “If you were beginning to dislike him, why did you keep going back to him?”
Smiling sadly, Antonio shrugged. “Love's a funny thing. And I was convinced I loved him, despite everything. Despite... coming to you.” Antonio took another big breath and couldn't quite meet Arthur's gaze. “The first night was a mistake on my part. When I woke up and realised what had happened, I was mortified. You're my friend, nothing more – that's what I told myself. And it felt as though I had betrayed Lovi.
“But, over time, I realised my feelings for you went a little beyond that. I was torturing myself over all of this. After all, as my feelings for you grew, the more I realised I liked you both the same way. But I was scared to lose you, to lose Lovi. I was content with everything the way it was. So I didn't want it to change. And when you told me how you felt about me – well, I felt guilty for leading you on like that. I panicked at the time and told you that I had Lovi but, later, I told myself that your... feelings for me were probably the same way I felt about you and that it was okay to continue... doing that...” Antonio grimaced. “And, besides, you deserve someone better than me, Arthur – I didn't want to tie you down to someone who didn't know their own emotions.”
“What?!” Arthur exclaimed. “But you're-!” He broke off and took a step back, shaking his head. Antonio's little speech had shaken him, dispersed his anger and given him hope. He had no idea what he wanted any more: the only thing clear to him was that he couldn't bear to listen to Antonio any longer. “Stop this. Stop talking. Stop-”
“Please!” Antonio said, urgently. He rose to his feet and reached out for Arthur, easily catching hold of his elbow. Arthur froze, staring in the vicinity of Antonio's stomach. “Please, listen! When you told me that you love me-”
“Loved!” Arthur shouted. “I don't- I can't lo-”
Suddenly, Antonio grabbed him by both arms. “When you sent me away that day, I did go back to Lovi. But when you wouldn't answer any of my messages, I realised you were serious. I can't lose you, Arthur. I panicked. I don't know what I'd do without you. I can bear being without Lovi – we were never really together in any way – but you. You I cannot live without.”
As silence descended between them, Arthur could only stare. Antonio's eyes were serious and sincere. He prided himself on being able to tell when Antonio was lying but this was one of the times when he was absolutely sure the Spaniard was telling the truth. In all his years as Antonio's friend, he had only seen Antonio be this sincere a few times.
He had never seen his sincerity being directed at him.
Realising that he was shaking, Arthur tried to pull away from Antonio. But the back of his legs hit the coffee table and he realised he was trapped. They stared at each other. Then Arthur said, quietly, hopefully, “You're... If you thought you were in love with Lovino, then how can you be so sure that you want me?”
“This separation has been too painful to bear,” Antonio replied, instantly, as if he had been expecting the question. He gave Arthur a weak smile. “T- I love you, Arthur.”
Hearing the words in English made Arthur realised that Antonio honestly believed that. He always said things he wanted Arthur to acknowledge properly in English. With the confession, Arthur felt his mix of emotions hit their peak and he burst into tears, drawing his hands up to cover his face. Antonio immediately pulled him into a tight embrace.
“I'm sorry,” he murmured. “I'm so sorry, Arthur. I'm so stupid.”
“Y-Yes you are!” Arthur cried through his sobs.
“Come here,” said Antonio, gently, and he guided Arthur to the couch. There, Arthur threw his arms around Antonio's neck and hid his face in Antonio's shoulder while Antonio held him close. Their relationship would need some work, of course, but, for the moment, they took comfort in being close to each other once again.