Help me, I'm Holding On For Dear Life
So. For the past few days, I have spent an inconsolable amount of hours annoying @someone-you-do-not-know with an AU idea: Alternative history, some world that resembles the late 18th and early 19th century. I'm mostly concerned with social rules and etiquette around marriage and love. Michele and Harry have been happily courting each other for a year, only waiting to get the go-ahead from Michele's parents to make it all official. Suddenly, out of the blue, it is announced to Michele that his father has betrothed him to Antonio, the son of a count. Invited to the wedding and arriving for the engagement and to assist with the wedding are Michele's relatives, the Vargas family. Which is how Lovino finds himself his cousin's best man and soon the confidante of his fiancé. Literally NO ONE is happy with this arrangement.
TLDR: SicIre in a Romeo and Juliette bind, Spamano as pining idiots with only themselves to blame, SpaSic as the arranged marriage that causes the predicament in the first place. And you all should totally listen to the Stage Musical Version of El Tango De Roxanne and feel Harry's and Lovino's pain as you read this.
Here's the fic - enjoy!
"I hate –" Lovino said.
" – this display,“ Harry got out through gritted teeth.
~*~
Certainly, Charlie was right that this was masochism right now. “And now Frecky, what you were into when you were in bed with Michele is none of my business, but … this isn’t it, is it now?”
It was easier to bear now, in a way. To see Michele look with a certain fondness at Antonio. Hear him laugh at whatever jokes the idiot made. Harry knew it wasn’t forever, since he intended to keep the promise he’d given Michele and he knew Michele knew that. The plan to elope with was all that occupied him in every minute he could spare and also any that he couldn’t. This wasn’t forever. This was an act. See! Antonio leant in for a kiss and Michele leant away.
Afterwards he shyly batted his eyelashes. Oh, how he wished he could see him and he didn’t have to hide away in the rafters. But such was the lot; any contact was forbidden, any trace of their relationship that had been so publicly obvious to anyone who laid eyes upon them now nothing but a whisper.
It did pain him. Charlie was right. But he couldn’t help it – hadn’t been able to help it since the first moment. He still remembered being there on their engagement night. Hidden away in the crowd but in the room nonetheless, thanks to Charlie’s connections and ability to charm people. That engagement night was seared into his mind’s eye. Sometimes, when he laid awake at night with adrenaline pumping through his veins, he remembered it and saw red.
His Michele. His beloved, witty, spirited, wicked in the best of ways Michele in his best suit, a smile on his face he could never keep for long. At the side of this trumped up, pomped up, happy-go-lucky Count’s son. So proud and so regal to have some half-forgotten city nobility hang off his arm – and who wouldn’t when it had a face like this! A voice like this that had serenaded Harry, not this peacock! An elegance that even made the suit that could not hold a candle to half the guests in the room look as if it was fine silk! Stolen valour it was, all this prick had to do was rich and have a title that Michele’s father wanted!
He had done nothing to earn Michele’s laugh, but now he got to hear it. His dark chuckle, not that high, ringing tone that was Michele’s earnest laughter, of course. Still, to see it and not hear it over the people had been enough to make Harry’s heart sink into his guts. This Antonio had done nothing to deserve it, but he was the one to hold Michele’s hand in his grasp. To gently stroke it while he looked him in the eyes and Harry had felt his limbs gone numb.
He had lifted his hand and put it on Michele’s cheek, a touch that Harry was so familiar with that he could feel it on his own hand and it made his arm tremble. To see Antonio lean close to Michele, his cheek brushing with the other’s – it had driven Harry insane that he could not see what the rest of his face was doing. Whether he was whispering something in Michele’s ear, Harry suddenly was able to remember every single innuendo, love confession and line of poetry he had ever whispered to Michele, or to have his lips brush against Michele’s soft cheek, his own caressed by Michele’s hair –
Harry had been overcome with rage. Every single muscle in his body had tightened up, a heat stoked in the depth of his guts that boiled his brain in rage. A careless whisper, a thoughtless provocation – in this moment he had been ready to kill Antonio. Anything to make this farce stop. Anything to vanish the mockery of his love, a mockery that was sold to him as exaltation of it all and only he could see it as the counterfeit it was, everyone else dazzled by the fool’s gold. Anything to prevent the doom that was the thought of never, ever again getting to experience the treasure that Antonio was holding. It was more than he could stand.
That was the engagement night. Now, as he watched them from the rafters, his emotions didn’t run as high. This wasn’t for forever – still, reassurance would be nice as he looked onto the couple. If only Michele, after he kissed Antonio on the cheek, could spot him and blow a kiss his way. Anything to satisfy the beast within him with its murmur of doubt that it was for forever. That the way Michele sometimes looked at Antonio was not a shade of the love he had for Harry, but the growing bud of passion.
No, his Michele would never betray him. He knew how much Harry loved him and he’d never throw that away. That had to suffice as Harry slipped into the shadows.
~*~
“Do you want a glass of sherry, Lovi? I heard it’s lovely,” Feliciano asked as Lovino was staring grimly at Antonio and their cousin.
“No, thanks,” Lovino said without facing his brother.
“Uh … anything else you might need?”
“Nothing.”
Feliciano sighed and sat down next to him. “Really nothing? Not thinking of anything that could cheer you up right now?”
“Nothing short of that pest being hit by lightning,” he said and it was hard to get the words through his tensed jaw. Oh, Antonio was in a good mood, wasn’t he? Made Michele laugh again – or rather, Michele laughed along out of kindness, as that duplicitous snake surely would have put it – and leant in for another kiss that was denied to him even mid-laugh.
“Man, do you think there’s something in the attic?” Feliciano said with an confused and annoyed expression towards the ceiling and Lovino finally turned to him.
“Huh?”
“Nothing, I just thought I heard something stomping overhead. Probably imagining things.”
“Huh. Probably.” He couldn’t help it, he had to look back towards the couple. Antonio still had his arm around Michele who didn’t even acknowledge it. Water from a stone would have been easier for Antonio than love from his fiancé, but of course he couldn’t say that. At least not in front of all these people. Sycophants, all of them, and he was one due to peer pressure. Michele made a match that made everyone green with envy and he looked into his wineglass and twirled it as if he wanted to drown himself in it. And still, Antonio’s arm around his waist.
“Feli, do you think this is fair?”
“Huh? What, Lovino?”
“Do you think it’s fair that Michele, who doesn’t got half the shit to his name that we do, gets to marry a future count? That I’m made to play best man instead of taking care of my own future wedding with someone who deserves me?” As much as he wanted to simmer in his own rage and let it be fuelled by the event in front of his eyes, he did turn sensible and to his brother.
“Well … yeah, I don’t think it’s fair,” Feliciano said. “Between you and him, it should be you engaged to someone like Antonio. Seriously, sometimes I wonder if Mamma is right and Uncle Salvatore is blackmailing Fernando or something.”
“Quite right! It should be me!” Lovino said and downed the rest of his wine in one. “I should be engaged – I should be married! To a count! A duke! Not play Michele’s best man! Not always have to hear ‘Oh, congratulations on Feliciano’s match, where are your plans? Gonna have to work hard to trump your brother, won’t you, Lovino?’ And then that laughter! I loathe the laughter! They can all shove it up their ass, for all I care!” He glared at his wineglass. “I changed my mind about the sherry.”
“I don’t think I should get you sherry anymore,” Feliciano responded. He winced when Lovino glared at him, but quickly found his tongue again: “I’m sure it’s just a matter of time. Mamma is of the same mind as you, so you’re gonna have a wedding that puts both me and Michele to shame!” He grinned, so reassuringly and confident that Lovino wished he could smile. But it was easy for Feliciano to believe that everything would fall into his lap. Lovino himself had always worked hard to keep that illusion for him.
A ruckus from the betrothed table – oh dear Lord, it looked like someone should have told Antonio no to the sherry as well. Lovino was about to down the whole barrel to make the view bearable. Michele, pulled into Antonio’s lap, hands on his shoulders to save some distance for his modesty’s sake. He looked genuinely surprised by this – well, maybe if Lovino didn’t have to spend most evenings with either of the sadsacks, mostly Antonio though, Michele wouldn’t be so surprised at his fiancé’s touch. And Antonio wouldn’t have to resort to desperate measures like stroking his face gently with his fingertips, obviously negotiating a kiss with his big, green eyes and that sweet and excited smile on his face.
Michele shook his head. Lovino’s hands balled into a fist.
Antonio cocked his head and said something else and Michele sighed.
“Where’s that fucking sherry,” Lovino asked and pulled his chair back, got to his feet wit his eyes still on that ghastly spectacle of the kiss. Pity kiss it was, for both of them, but neither of them knew that. Sure, Michele thought he was kissing Antonio out of pity, but he still thought that the other was naïve enough to fall in love with him. As if he was the hot commodity, he thought himself to be. As if he was deserving of all of this. If he was, then so was Lovino! Tenfold! A hundredfold!
“Look, they’re playing again! Come on Lovino, let’s find someone to dance with!” Feliciano grabbed his brother’s arm. “Let’s show them how it’s done!” He grinned and Lovino was somewhat soothed in his rage.
Until there was a tap on his shoulder. Unorthodox and plump way to ask him, really, what oaf was this impatient and –
He turned around and nearly jumped back into Feliciano when he found himself faced with Antonio himself.
“Did I scare you? I’m so sorry, Vino!” Antonio laughed, sheepishly but heartily. His face was tinted red with blush, the sherry’s work, surely. Not Michele’s. Not Lovino’s …
“Vino?” Feliciano asked and Lovino could hear that curious smile in his brother’s voice, not to mention could feel Feliciano lean onto him. Alright, enough of that all.
“Man, get it together!” Lovino told Antonio. “First that shameless display with Michele, then calling me nicknames – Only because your dad’s not around doesn’t mean you need to be embarrassing.”
“Ah, yes, I guess that’s right,” Antonio said. “But … no one’s parents are around! No chaperones tonight, so let’s live a little, we deserve it, don’t we! You, too, Lovino!”
“I’m enjoying myself, thank you very much,” Lovino responded staunchly.
“Did you come to ask Lovino for a dance?” Feliciano asked and there went that staunchness.
“Oh, no, I didn’t,” Antonio answered.
“Quite right!” Lovino answered, but Feliciano was convinced to dig a deeper grave for him:
“Aww, you should. No chaperones around and all! I bet everyone would be jealous of you two!”
Through gritted teeth, he managed to murmur out: “Feli, quit talking.”
“I bet, but I don’t want to hog Lovino’s fun.” He leant closer to Lovino and put his hand in front of his mouth. “Actually, I just wanted to tell you that you don’t need to wait on me or Michele tonight, we’ll spend the night together. I thought a notice would be courteous, since you always keep us such good company – no need for it tonight. Please, enjoy yourself.”
A kick in the face would have been kinder. “S-Sure,” Lovino said. “Yeah.” He cleared his throat. “Thanks for the heads up. Finally, some time to myself!”
Antonio put his hands on his shoulders and smiled gratefully at him. “You deserve it, really. I don’t know how I deserve your help, I am in so much debt to you.” His smile grew. “Now! Let’s find a dancing partner, will you!” He patted his shoulder before he turned, doubtlessly to return to Michele.
Feliciano blew out a sigh. “You sit around and talk with him all the time, seriously, he should marry you and not Michele.”
“Will you shut up?!” Lovino asked and whirled around. Feliciano wasn’t much impressed, the pout on his face matching his voice.
“I mean it! It’s like he’s leeching off of all your hard work!”
“I’m not doing this because I want Michele’s fiancé! I’m just doing it because Papà asked me to! And I don’t need to – Whatever! I’m going home!” Lovino turned around and headed for the door.
“Lovi! Come on! I’m sorry, if it’s what I said!” Feliciano hurried after him while he stomped off. "Don’t let that ruin your night! Let’s dance! Drink! You have no obligations tonight!”
“Yeah, like the non-obligation of staying here!” He ripped the door open.
~*~
Outside were two hooded figures, a few meters from the entrance but still within the gates. They seemed to be arguing.
“Are you sure your ankle’s fine?”
“Yeah! I just … maybe the fall wasn’t as well-calculated as it should have been …”
“Good, because I’m not getting Paddy! Or carrying you!”
“Good, because I don’t need it! Let’s just – “
“Who the hell are you?” Lovino asked and the two jumped. For a moment they faced him and he looked into two very pale, very freckled faces. Jesus, he had never seen someone with eyebrows this big on either of them.
“Isn’t this the country ball of the count?” The slightly taller one asked – a man, thinner than the other one. He lacked a tooth.
“Private event, I’m afraid,” Lovino said.
“How did you even get past the gates?” Feliciano asked.
“Aww, darn it,” said the other one, apparently a young woman. “Thought there’d be fun to have. Well, then we’ll be on our merry way! Goodbye, gentlemen!” She turned to go, but he seemed suddenly transfixed by whatever was going on inside. “Harry?”
Lovino made the mistake to look over his shoulder.
Of course, there they were. Antonio, who turned around, Michele at his hand, to lead him to the dancefloor. That bright and expectant, hopeful, delusional smile on his face as Michele chuckled and cocked his head. He briefly kissed Antonio’s hand before they parted to take their positions.
“Harry, come on, we’ve got to go.” She took the man’s arm and he looked to the ground, brows still furrowed and a frown on his parted lips. As if he was a mirror to Lovino’s emotions.
Lovino shook his head. The figures were already hurrying towards the gate.
“Strange …” Feliciano said.
“I don’t know, maybe they were beggars or something,” Lovino said. “Or some jealous pricks that didn’t get invited. Who cares? They’re gone. And so am I.”
“Aw, come on, Lovino – “
