Dein Hand, in Meine

Chapter 25

Last Caress

Firenze, August 3

"I will be arriving soon, the whole lot of us actually."

The receiver shook in my hands and somehow I could not find it in me to let out the breath that I was holding in.

"Keep your fingers crossed, Feliciano"

The receiver deafened, the Englishman's voice fading out. I still held it tightly in my hand, though. I could feel the immensity of tears gathering in my eyes and forming waves, a tsunami of emotions. There were many times during this war that my hope got the best of me; it ran out too easily or remained when it should had not. But somehow...this felt real.

The Allies would liberate us, liberate Firenze, soon all of Italia...all of Europa. They would, I hoped...we all hoped. Florentines prayed, even when their churches were surrounded in smoke that blocked the crosses that stood so weakened from their places above.

Those of us who had little interest in putting our faith in the unknown, we instead had placed it in another improbability.

My contact with Arthur was limited and as short as it may have been, when his voice echoed from the receiver and he spoke those very words...words anyone here and now would be desperate to grasp, to hold within their weathered hands...I knew it had to be true. I know.

When I finally allowed myself to breathe out, I caught Lovino coming down the hall from the corner of my eye, his eyebrows raised.

"Who was that?"

I looked down, receiver still in hand, trying to regain my composure. But Lovino must had sensed my unease because he ripped the receiver from my grip and gave me the sternest of expressions.

He slammed it down.

"Lovi...I"

He held a hand out in front of my mouth, closing his eyes and slowly reopening them once again.

Large chocolate orbs of disappointment.

"You know the risk this poses Feliciano...how long?"

I tried to speak up but I was silenced again both by the look in my brother's eyes and by his incoming, shrill outburst.

"HOW LONG?!"

Even as guilt filled my chest, even as I could feel the tears breaking from their ducts, my mental exhaustion and every ounce of anger I could muster took over me.

"DOES IT EVEN MATTER?!"

I shrieked, balling my hands into fists, squeezing until my knuckles turned white.

"DO YOU KNOW HONESTLY WANT TO KNOW WHAT I HAVE BEEN DOING, WHAT I HAVE BEEN DOING SINCE THIS WAR FUCKING STARTED?!"

Lovi stepped back, his mouth slightly agape, his eyes still ferocious but all the same confused and fearful.

"WHILE YOU SAT THERE AND BERATED ME, FRATELLO...I HAVE BEEN WORKING AGAINST THE VERY MAN WHO HAS MADE EVERYONE IN THIS COUNTRY SO HOPELESS, THAT HAS BATTERED THEM WITH POLICIES AND EXECUTIONS, HAS SILENCED THEM WITH A SHEER ORDER...I HAVE BEEN TRYING TO SHUT HIM UP AND THAT IS IN PART FOR YOU, LOVINO! MIO FRATELLO CAZZO!" (My fucking (slang) brother)

I felt like crying out, screaming until my lungs gave way and my pained soul could be set free. But all I could do was wail, weep until my cheeks were stained with tears, until they were crimson.

Lovino's expression softened for the first time in awhile, to my surprise, but somehow I could not shake my animosity.

All this time, even after Nonno died...Lovino had treated me with nothing but disdain. He spat at me, tried to justify his temper...never showed me any tenderness nor compassion as if he had blamed the entire passing on me and me alone.