Chapter Text
The room was filled with cigarette smoke, and in the centre of his desk, an ashtray with about half a dozen crushed and extinguished cigarette butts lay overflowing with ash.
Lovino leaned back in his chair, letting the nicotine fill his system and cloud his tired, stressed mind a little. If things continued like this, he might have to resort to something stronger; his olive-green eyes drifted towards the intercom on the wall.
He stood up and walked over to press the button.
“It's me,” he said loudly and clearly, “a bottle of Marseille and a tiramisù. To my office.”
He glanced at his watch; Feliciano and Kiku should have arrived from the clinic by now.
He texted his brother to ask about it, to which he replied with a short "we're here."
He put everything aside and went to lie down in his seat once more, loosening his tie and taking off his jacket to get more comfortable. He didn't feel like thinking about anything.
With his eyes closed, he waited until he heard the door.
“Come in,” was all he said when he heard someone knock a few minutes later.
"Excuse me."
The soft, sweet voice he heard made him open his eyes and look towards the door.
"You're not from the staff," he said with a puzzled expression.
"Feliciano insisted that I bring this to you," explained Kiku as he approached with the tray, "I'm sorry for the inconvenience."
The brown-haired man looked at him for a few seconds, but in the end he let it go.
He nodded, indicating that he should leave the tray on his desk while he settled into his seat.
The Japanese man nodded in response, gently placing the tray where he had been instructed, moving aside any other objects that might be in the way.
Once he had done so, they remained silent for several seconds.
"I can pour the wine," suggested the black-haired man, still standing next to the desk.
Lovino was too tired to think about refusing or anything else, so he simply let him do it.
With a strange emotion that the Italian couldn't understand, the younger one took the bottle, removing it from the ice bucket to uncork it and pour its contents directly into the glass.
He did it slowly, with such delicacy that just admiring his smooth movements made the brown-haired man feel that some of his stress had already dissipated.
"Thank you," he said in a softer tone than usual, reaching out his hand to hold his glass and take a deep drink.
"My pleasure."
"You can leave now."
"If it's not too much trouble, I'd like to stay."
Somehow, he wanted to spend more time with Kiku, and the fact that the Asian boy was the one to say so first made him feel a strange and unusual warmth that he couldn't understand.
But Lovino liked his presence, he liked his company, it made him feel a little less stressed just by being there.
However, he shook his head. "For today, I want to be alone."
"Oh," Kiku's voice trailed off with what he had said, leaving a sense of disappointment in the air as the Japanese man simply nodded again, "I understand, thank you for allowing me to serve you... then, I will take my leave. Excuse me."
When he turned around, seeing his back, the Italian felt something stir inside him.
He wanted to tell him to stop and stay there, but then when the door closed, there was nothing he could do.
The sweet taste of wine and sugar in the tiramisu cream could not disguise the bitterness that the Japanese man's departure left him with that night.
He would have liked to go and find him that same night before going to sleep.
A feeling of loneliness had taken a hold of Kiku, and he didn't know what to do to get rid of it.
He had felt so happy after the doctor's visit, had wanted to talk to Lovino about anything: about what had happened there or simply about how the older man was feeling.
Perhaps it would have been enough just to be in the same room together in silence.
But he felt rejected when Lovino preferred to be alone, and he realized then that he had been feeling lonely without him for several days already.
When was the last time the two of them had been together?
When he ran away and ended up at Feliks's place, that was the last time they were together. Because for some time now, the Italian hadn't even shown up for breakfast, he was out of the house or at his office in the afternoons, and at night he came home after dinner or didn't come home at all.
He had told him he liked him and had been very concerned about him, but now he seemed to be drifting away.
He left the room, thinking that perhaps some time in the library would make him feel better, reading a book or perhaps studying some more Italian. He needed to distract himself enough to be able to talk to Lovino again, otherwise he would end up getting very depressed.
He walked with his head down, looking at his feet as he made his way through the corridors he already knew by heart, and when he stumbled, he had to look up.
“Sumimasen– ah, excuse me, I wasn't looking where I was going.” He raised his head to see who it was.
He froze in place when he realized that Luciano was standing less than a meter away.
Panic immediately overwhelmed him; no one had told him that he was coming. Otherwise, he would have stayed in his room. He was so focused on the man who was smiling maliciously at him that he didn't notice that the man he had bumped into was still looking at him.
“Oh? Weren't you at the party a few months ago?” asked the red-haired young man curiously. “Do you speak Italian?”
“Y-Yes, sir,” he replied nervously.
“Maurizio,” he introduced himself with a cheerful smile, “and this is Luciano. Although it seems you already know him.”
Kiku shook his head. “Not at all, sir, if you'll excuse me...”
“Weren't you going the other way?”
“I just remembered I left something important.”
And without stopping, he turned around and went back the way he had come.
As soon as he was in another hallway, he began to run toward his room like a bat out of hell, bumping into Elizabeth in the process.
“Kiku!” she exclaimed with relief, “Thank goodness! You mustn't leave your room today!”
“I know, I saw it. Why didn't you tell me before?” he asked anxiously.
“It was last minute. I was going to look for you because I saw that your room was empty.”
He couldn't have had worse luck than that.
He felt it was his punishment for being impatient with Lovino.
“Come on, I'll stay with you. We can watch something or chat,” said the brown-haired girl, putting her arm around his shoulders.
Feeling safer with her accompanying him, he relaxed a little.
They finally reached his room, and then the brunette - locked the door and the balcony door just in case.
The least of his worries with that guy there was whether Lovino was avoiding him or not.
Maurizio fixed his hair a little in the hallway mirror while he waited with Luciano for the office door to open.
After a few more minutes, the youngest of his nephews opened the door to peek out and invite them in with his typical smile. Luciano stayed outside.
The redhead came over to hug him, kissing him on each cheek as they laughed together.
“My dear nephew!”
“Veee, hi, Uncle!”
“Oh, and Lovi, you look great,” he greeted him in the same way.
The man in question said nothing, just kept his serious gaze and his arms crossed, but he didn't reject his uncle's contact.
He turned to sit in his chair behind the desk.
“Look at you, you look like a real man sitting there,” he joked before sitting down at the desk. “Where are Alice and Chiara? I thought they would be here.”
“Not today, this will be just between us,” he said calmly, crossing his arms without changing his expression.
“Why so serious?”
“Nothing in particular,” he shrugged, “they have other matters to attend to for now.”
“We wanted to talk about your weapons supply for the church,” Feliciano began.
“What could there be in the church that concerns you, my dear nephews?” he asked suspiciously.
“Your brother,” Lovino blurted out carelessly.
A sad smile and a pair of dull eyes gave him away. “You know he's also your uncle.”
“Unfortunately.”
There was an air of tension and a little sadness, a strange feeling of disappointment in Maurizio's gaze that was bothering Lovino.
He didn't hate the youngest of his uncle, not in the least, but there were many things he couldn't understand.
“I want information, and you have that information,” he insisted.
“What will you do with that information once you have it?”
“That's not your problem.”
Maurizio frowned, feeling that there were too many things he wanted to say.
“Maybe I haven't lived what you have,” he began, his voice heavy with emotion, “but I want to remind you that I am also part of this family. I am older than you, you owe me respect, and if you want to go far, maybe you should listen to me.”
“I don't owe you anything, we're in the same position,” he spat out the words venomously. “If you're part of this family, then you'll understand that you're wrong.”
“Do you think you're right, Salvatore?” he asked with complete seriousness.
A deathly silence filled the room.
Feliciano slowly opened the door to leave, and in the midst of the silence, the only thing that could be heard was the sound of the door closing.