Once Upon An Alley {SpaMano}

Chap 3

After both men parted ways, Lovino had headed to the main base. When he arrived, four black cars pulled up next him in the parking area. The scatter group clambered out and waited for Lovino to go in. They headed to one of the meeting rooms and the leader of the Mafia sat at one of the ends, Alfred in the other.

"What did you figure out?" Lovino asked, resting his elbow on the desk, his cheek resting on the back of his hand.

"There is this one gang that wants to be the best, and become the mafia, which means that they want to take us out. They are getting recruits quickly, but the recruiters are being forced to join, or they die." Alfred seemed troubled. "Can we save them? They are going to be eventually killed! We have to do something!" Alfred was now standing, yelling in frustration.

"Calm down, hamburger bastard. I was already planning on going to do something at your first sentence. Anything else?" Lovino raised an eyebrow questioning.

"Uh... Our group found something about.... about your brother...." One of the other leaders of one of the groups spoke up nervously. He wasn't sure how Lovino would react.

"Feliciano?!" He stood up and beckoned fo him to continue.

"One of the people we found was his friend. Kiku. He said that Feliciano was living in North Italy." Lovino was happy, he still missed his younger twin dearly.

A smile etched on to his face, happy tears started to stream down his face. This was the first time anyone has seen him cry. Heck, Lovino couldn't even remember the last time he cried.

The mafias' leader, crying and smiling.

Everyone was either smiling along, or freaking out that Lovino never cries or smiles. Some even, both. After Lovinos little moment, he looked up to the men in the room.

"You shall say nothing. Got it, bastards?" His voice was serious and warning again underlying venom soaking the words, but then again, it was a bluff, Lovino would never hurt his members. They are his family.

All to frightened to say anything to their very serious leader, just nodded. Some made a gesture to zip up their mouths, lock it, and throw away the key.

"Good. Is that all the information?" Alfred nodded. "Ok. Go do whatever then, I got to figure out what to do about both things."

Lovino walked out to his tomato garden, grabbing a wooden crate and putting some inside.

His phone buzzed and he took it out, reading the phone id. It was the man that he asked to follow the Spaniard.

"Vargas here. What is it, bastardo?" Lovino answered with a hopeful tone.

"Here is his address..." He got quiet and sent a photo to Lovinos phone. "There. Can I ask why you want his address?" He asked with a faint smirk. Lovino could hear it.

"Chigi! None of your damn business! That's all bastard." Flustered, Lovino hung up, looking at the picture he was sent with a reddened face.

It was like any other house in Italy.

Lovino got his tomato crate and got outside to his motorcycle, pulling the helmet back on and putting the crate securely in the back. He grabbed a notebook, writing a quick note then ripping the page off, folding it neatly and placing it in his pocket. He hopped on and drove to the Spainards address.

A few minutes later of driving determindly through the city, he arrived at the house. Thankfully, it was dark, and the street was empty. He stopped his motorcycle and took the crate, leaving it at the door step. He took the note and put it on top of the crate. He knocked three times before rushing to his vehicle, rushing away to an alley where he had a good view of the Spaniards.

In silence, he watched as the Spaniard opened his door lazily, peeking before he saw the crate. A smile spread itself on his face as he picked up the crate, looking around to catch who might have brought it for him. He headed inside with the first true smile he has had in a long time.

Meanwhile, Lovino was secretly freaking out. One of the bandages that the man had around his fore arms bacame loose, revealing scars. Self inflicted scars. Some fresh and still bleeding.

How could someone so handsome like the Spanish man do this to himself?

Lovino drove off into the dark night, aided by the streetlamps. He arrived at the base, putting his helmet in the campartment and putting his hat on. The door swung open and Berwald walked through it, dragging an albino all cleaned up behind him, wearing a new pair of clothes.

"He's cleaned up. Shall I begin training tomorrow?" Gilbert smiled and Gilbird tweeted happily.

"Yeah. Also, get him the tattoo after tomorrow. If anyone needs me and it's an emergency you two bastards can't handle, I'll be in my room." He walked passed both of his men, heading to his room and slamming the door upon entering.

Lovino grabbed a pen and his notebook, writing things about the day. His diary, but he refused to call it that. It was his journal. He took out another journal, writing down things about the rival uprising gang, and his brother.

At Antonios house.....

After the mystery man left, he went to his house again. He really wanted to buy tomatoes, but the man -Italian he presumed based on his accent- had warned him. Somehow, he found himself in the bathroom, holding the dulled blade to his arm.

A few cuts later, he decided to clean up, going through the daily routine of hiding the blade and cleaning up. He wrapped a bandage around his arms and made sure that the bathroom was completely cleaned. As if on cue, his stomach grumbled.

A thin blush coated his cheeks and he walked into his kitchen, trying to make something that doesn't involve tomatoes. Antonio sat in one of the chairs at the dining table pondering on what to make. Someone knocked at his door, and the confused man got up to answer it. Who could it be this late? Who would it be, at this hour?

He opened the door and saw no one. So was it a ding-dong-ditch? He remembered doimg pranks like these with his friends when he was younger. Where could Francis and Gilbert be now? Slightly disappointed that no one would want to visit him, he began to retreat, but when he looked down, something was there.

A medium sized wooden crate presented itself proudly. Antonio could feel his mouth stretch into a smile. A true smile. This must have been the first smile he had since.... since that day. He picked up the crate and headed inside, setting it on the dining table. On top of the crate was a neatly folded note.

He opened it up with delacacy and care.

I know what you're wandering. Who would bring you tomatoes this late? Well that would be me. I grew these myself, and you should like them. Until the next time we meet, ~RV

Who is RV? Initials? And why did the person say 'Until the next time we meet'?

Wait......

TOMATOES?!

Antonio had never opened something up so fast before. Not even on Christmas, or his birthday, or any other day he could think of.

The crate was filled to the brim with the bright red tomatoes, the best he has ever seen, obviously taken good care of by mystery person number two.

The person said that he or she grew them themselves. Antonio decided to call the person a he, because, well, he liked guys and he wanted to feel as if he was special to another man. Yes, Antonio is gay.

Then a light bulb went flickered on in his mind.

The only person he has told he was going to buy tomatoes was no other than the mystery man number one, the Italian, the leader of the Mafia.

----- I'm getting better at these cliffys... Anyways, I hope you like this chapter! -----