Chapter Text
The Greek sea had that annoying habit of looking calm even when nothing truly was.
Feliciano was sitting on the sand, his legs folded beneath him, an old book resting on his knees. It wasn’t really a book. The covers were worn, the spine bent, and several pages peeked out as if they were trying to escape. The sunlight fell softly around him, the kind of light that made everything seem simpler than it truly was.
He read one more line… and smiled.
“Hey, Feliciano. How are you?”
Feliciano jumped, nearly dropping the diary.
“Kiku!” he exclaimed, clutching his chest. “You can’t just appear like that, you almost killed me!”
Kiku Honda stood behind him, perfectly straight, his calm expression completely at odds with the heart attack he had just caused. Beside him, Heracles yawned, staring out at the sea as if his mind were somewhere else entirely.
“You seemed very focused,” Kiku said. “We didn’t want to interrupt.”
“That is literally what you just did,” Feliciano muttered, though he was already smiling again.
Heracles dropped onto the sand without ceremony.
“What are you reading?” he asked lazily.
Feliciano hesitated for a second. Then he closed the diary carefully, as if it were fragile.
“Something that belongs to my brother.”
That alone was enough for Kiku to look more attentive as he knelt beside them.
“Lovino?”
“Yup.” Feliciano lifted the diary slightly. “His diary, actually.”
Heracles raised an eyebrow.
“Your brother keeps a diary?”
“That’s what I thought too,” Feliciano laughed. “I know my brother has a romantic side, but this is… a lot.”
Kiku frowned slightly.
“Is it right to read it?”
Feliciano lowered his gaze to the diary in his hands.
“I know, but… I found it while cleaning the hotel storage room. It was hidden in a box with our old things, from when we first moved here.”
“That sounds like something you definitely shouldn’t be reading, Feliciano.”
“I know,” he admitted. “But…” He looked up. “Kiku, my brother isn’t how you think he is.”
“Grumpy, dramatic, and permanently angry at the world?” Heracles suggested.
“Exactly,” Feliciano nodded. “But he wasn’t always like that.”
Silence settled between the three of them, broken only by the sound of the waves.
“The wedding is the day after tomorrow,” Kiku said at last. “Shouldn’t you be helping with the preparations?”
“Fratello is already yelling at someone about that,” Feliciano replied casually. “If he sees me nearby, he’ll yell at me too.”
Heracles smiled faintly.
“Wise.”
Feliciano stood and brushed the sand from his clothes.
“Come to the hotel,” he said. “I want to show you something.”
—
The walk from the beach to the hotel was short, but Feliciano walked more slowly than usual, slipping the diary beneath his shirt just in case he ran into his brother.
“My brother was twenty-one when he brought me here,” Feliciano said suddenly. “I was six.”
Kiku nodded. He knew the basics.
“After our grandfather died,” Feliciano continued. “And after he stopped talking to our mother. He never told me directly,” he added, “but I know he left a lot behind.”
Kiku glanced at him.
“That doesn’t mean he didn’t choose.”
Feliciano smiled sadly.
“That’s what he would say.”
They stopped beneath the shade of an olive tree. Feliciano opened the diary carefully.
“Lovino was in love,” he said.
Kiku stiffened.
“In love?”
“Very,” Feliciano confirmed. “Three times.”
He walked as if floating through his own thoughts now, while Kiku and Heracles followed with growing curiosity.
“The first was Antonio. I vaguely remember seeing him around our house sometimes,” Feliciano said, turning a page. “They knew each other since childhood. Family friends. Lovino fell deeply in love with him when he was fourteen, but it wasn’t mutual at first. He wrote that Antonio was… warm. He dedicated Honey, Honey to him on his twentieth birthday, and one thing led to another and… well, dots.”
Feliciano squealed softly with excitement. “That was the first of many encounters.”
Kiku made a thoughtful sound.
“Dots?”
“You know,” Feliciano said cheerfully, “how people used to say they were going to do that.”
Heracles laughed as Kiku flushed.
“Antonio wanted to stay,” Feliciano continued. “He offered his support, but…”
Kiku closed his eyes.
“And your brother didn’t stay.”
“No,” Feliciano said quietly.
They kept walking.
“The second was Gilbert,” he went on. “In Austria. They lived together. He studied civil engineering. He was intense. Chaotic. Lovino wrote that he made him feel alive… but also exhausted. He admitted it was kind of endearing how Gilbert called himself ‘awesome.’ Lovino even believed it. But he felt trapped, even if it was tender, and… dots.”
Heracles chuckled.
“Your brother didn’t waste time.”
“And he always scolds me for having my head in the clouds,” Feliciano laughed, then read aloud, “‘Even though I still loved Antonio too much.’”
“And the third?” Kiku asked.
Feliciano turned the page.
“Alfred.”
“He met him here,” Feliciano said. “Recently graduated in international relations. He worked as a bartender even though he didn’t need to—who would, when his family invested so much in the island resort? He always thought he was the hero of every situation. He showed me the whole island. We found an abandoned stable and… dots.”
Kiku’s eyes widened.
“But the bastard left,” Feliciano continued more softly. “Just when I felt like I could finally be at peace. I read the letter he left, explaining he had to return to England with his father.”
He fell silent for a moment. “He left my brother an address… but I don’t think he ever went.”
“That must have been… complicated,” Kiku said.
“It was,” Feliciano replied. “All of it was.”
They walked in silence.
When they reached the hotel, a familiar shout echoed from inside.
“WHERE ARE THE FLOWER ARRANGEMENTS?!” Lovino roared. “I SAW THEM ARRIVE HOURS AGO AND THEY’RE STILL NOT HERE!”
Feliciano smiled fondly.
“See?” he said. “That’s not the man who wrote this. But he’s still there. Waiting for his great love.”
Kiku closed the diary gently. They slipped into Feliciano’s room and shut the door behind them.
“Why are you showing us this?” Kiku asked.
Feliciano took a deep breath.
“Because I did something,” he said. “Something that’s probably a terrible idea.”
Heracles smiled slowly.
“This keeps getting better.”
—
The dock was loud, salty, and full of lost tourists.
Antonio arrived first.
A backpack hung over his shoulder, his usually calm expression shaken by the fact that he had missed the boat—and the next one wouldn’t leave until later in the afternoon.
“There has to be another way to get to the island,” he muttered.
“The island?” a voice asked behind him.
Antonio turned.
“Are you going to a wedding?”
“Seems like it.”
“Bride or groom’s side?”
“More complicated than that.”
Not far away, a blond young man with a strong American accent shouted from a boat.
“Hey! I heard you guys talking! I’m going to a wedding too! Don’t worry, I’m the hero of your situation—hop on my boat!”
They stared at him.
“Thanks… whoever you are,” Antonio said, approaching the boat.
Gilbert sighed.
“Looks like we were invited to the same party.”
Alfred grinned.
“This is gonna be fun.”
“And how do we know you’re not some kind of lunatic?” Gilbert asked.
Alfred shrugged.
“Well, I’ve got an invitation. Probably looks like yours. And heroes never hurt people.”
Antonio looked at the horizon and stepped aboard. Gilbert followed, deciding fear was overrated.
As the boat pulled away from the dock, none of the three said the name they were all thinking.
The island was waiting.
And so was Lovino.