Give them names, Antonio. These tulips, as lovely as your eyes.
'I met you long ago, Dante Moss. I met you long ago.'
They had no beautiful day or scenery, no birdsong or fragrant flowers. Their meeting was more like a beautiful mistake.
The heavy gold coins remained in the injured boy's hand. The taciturn boy pressed his lips together, inexplicably missing the warmth of the hand that had smoothed his unruly golden hair.
"Where are you going?!"
Years later, Antonio still couldn't help smiling when he thought of Dante Moss back then. He had never regretted his answer: "Want to come with me?"
'I once thought you meant so much to me.'
In the noisy palace, someone took his hand. The enthusiastic boy, brimming with fervor, dragged him all the way into a carriage. After the jolting ride, his view filled with golden flowers, the color of ripe rice, bright and cheerful. Just like his eyes.
'How about Monte Carlo?'
Dante Moss embraced him from behind. 'Are they dazzlingly bright?' Antonio looked away from them and turned back. Perhaps without the slightest hesitation, he kissed him.
'You really have to go?'
'Just because Rovin is here doesn't mean you don't need me.'
'...Goodbye, Dante Moss.'
Perhaps the war wasn't the reason. But your possessiveness, born of delusion, ruined our love.
That brutal kiss on the battlefield.
'I even wonder whether I ever truly loved you. Dante Moss. That's what I tell myself to find comfort.'
Theme:
Hmm, I feel a bit unclear. This seems to be an imaginary setting? Speaking of which, the reason why Brother He became independent back then was because that guy was too religious about cooking T T.