Shades of Innocence (A GerIta FanFic)

Chapter 12

Antonio sighed, raking his fingers through his matted, curly brunette locks, long lost of their usual bounce and shine. He stared down despondently at the papers and letters littering the table in the small apartment kitchen, many of which had threatening words stamped across the font in blood red ink. The Spaniard took a few moments to rub harshly at his tired eyes before grabbing the next one, sluggishly tearing it open and skimming through the overly formal, almost angry sounding message, the fourth one they'd had this month from the bank. Antonio grabbed his gnawed, half-broken pen and dragged his notepad towards him, scribbling down a few notes from the letter along with some numbers; the notepad was almost bear of pages now, most were strewn across the kitchen floor in scrunched up balls.

The sudden strong, ghastly smell of tobacco floated all too unwelcomingly into the Spaniard's nostrils as he set about his work, wrinkling his nose in disgust; Antonio lifted and turned his head, he was startled to see his Italian partner stood restlessly by the bedroom doorway behind him, inhaling furiously on a cigarette.

Antonio made a point of coughing obnoxiously. "Lovino would you put that thing out?" he asked in between coughs, batting away at the grey cloud starting to accumulate around his head. "You don't smoke."

Romano glared at him, his eyes heavy with dark circles. "I do when I'm stressed!" he hissed irritably taking several erratic drags, ash dropping from the cigarette like snow to the floor.

Antonio sighed, spinning around on his stool to face him. "Stop that." he asserted sternly. "Seriously put it out Lovi it stinks." the Spaniard shook his head, going back to the scattered paperwork. "...and not on your arm!" he added, spotting the Italian's reflection in the microwave opposite him on the counter, starting to roll up his jumper sleeve.

Romano grit his teeth, flicking the blunt cigarette into the sink; Antonio carried on scribbling his notes, tapping slowly on a calculator sat on the table in front of him. The Italian started pacing back and forth around the tiny kitchen, prowling round and round the table like a caged animal. "I can't believe they didn't respond to our letter!" he growled suddenly, making Antonio jump. "Fucking pricks..."

"...Lovi one of their family members is in hospital in a coma and the guy they think is responsible is behind bars..." Antonio explained slowly for what had to be at least the hundredth time, frowning slightly when he lost his place in his current calculation. He sighed, setting down his pen he rubbed a hand down his face. "...they're not going to care whether or not his brother sends them a letter telling them he's innocent." he muttered, gazing sadly at his partner.

"Then we'll go to the hospital!" Romano snapped, halting his movement. "We'll go there and we'll wait for the family to show up."

Antonio shook his head. "...and then what Lovi?" he asked incredulously.

"I'll talk to them!" the Italian shot firmly. "Tell them what's what and make them realise it was a mistake!"

"What makes you think you can convince them Feli's innocent?" Antonio asked softly, slowly sitting up to stretch his back. "It didn't work at the trial."

Romano slammed his hands down in front of the Spaniard, sending the papers and letter shooting off the table. "So you just want us to give up is that it!?" he demanded, outraged.

Antonio stumbled a little on his stool in surprise. "No-"

"I thought you cared more about this family than that Antonio!" the Italian snarled, practically lunging himself across the table towards the Spaniard.

Antonio hurriedly leant backwards, holding up a calming hand. "Lovino I'm just saying that there's nothing we can really do to change what's happened." he said imploringly.