Dust and Memories

Basch's Problem

"I can't believe him!" Basch snapped, throwing the bread dough down onto the flour-sprinkled table, and Lovino looked up from where he was brushing eggwash onto some challah bread.

"What's your problem?" The Italian asked, arching a brow.

Basch wasn't one to rant to people. He prefered to keep things to himself, and often pushed anyone who tried to help him away. But his irritation towards Roderich, worry about his sister, and confusion about his own muddled feelings had reached a fever pitch, and he needed to blow off steam.

"I had a friend once-" he began, and Lovino snorted.

"Really?"

Basch shut him up with a glare and continued. "We fell out during middle school, and then he went to some prissy-ass high school, and I tried to forget about him. The other day, he just called me out of the blue, and I told him to fuck off. This morning, I woke up to a message from him! A goddamned message!" He snapped as he aggressively kneaded the bread dough.

Lovino frowned. "Why don't you just ignore it?" He asked pointedly, and Basch scowled.

"Because I can't get the asshole out of my fucking head!"

A smirk curled the Italian man's lips up, and Basch frowned, brows furrowing. "Quit looking at me like that, what's with you today?"

"Sounds to me like the cheese bastard's got himself a crush."

The messages continued every morning, and for the first week or so, he complained to Lovino about them, still angry with Roderich for leaving him alone for years, and for the aristocrat's putting his dating life before Basch.

But as the weeks went on and the messages multiplied, the blond man found himself looking forward to waking up in the morning. Roderich always had something new to tell him, and even if he couldn't bring himself to respond, he hoped he would somehow feel his nonverbal approval.

It was nice to hear his voice again.