Matteo POV.
There isn't much to say about me. I was always the middle child in a dysfunctional family, where I didn't know if it was good or bad, that I didn't get any attention. When I was younger, that was all I wanted. My brothers were always given more love and attention, whereas I was pretty much invisible. My father spent the most time with Alessandro and my mother spent the most time with the youngest ones, making me jealous of everyone around me.
I always looked up to Alessandro. He was the oldest and the favorite child, who never did anything wrong. He worked hard, got perfect grades, spent time with dad, and was overall the perfect child. My parents weren't subtle about it either. They constantly told us to be more like our brother, so that's what I did.
I followed him around and studied him, hoping to turn into him somehow. I saw how hard he worked for school, so I did the same. I saw, how he pushed his emotions away, so I did the same. I did everything just right, but still, our parents didn't notice me. At least not in the ways that mattered.
After spending my early childhood adoring my brothers and wanting to be them, I started resenting them. I would never be like them, I would never be good enough. When I saw, how dad and Alessandro treated us, I started doing the same. I looked down on my brothers when they showed emotions or talked back.
I never got the effortlessly terrifying looks, that Alessandro had, so I had to be more aggressive to get results. I would snap at my brothers whereas Alessandro or dad only had to give them one look and they'd back down. I was always so jealous, of everyone around me, that it turned me into a person I never wanted to be.
I was six when mom left with Eli. I don't have that many memories of her, but I do remember the feeling I got when she was around me. I remember wanting to do anything to get her to be proud of me, to make her love me.
All I remember of Eli was a tiny human, that crawled around making everyone love her. I would have been even more jealous of her than I was of my brothers, but I couldn't. Maybe it was because she was taken away, and my memories got sugarcoated, but I loved her too much. Maybe, if mom would have left Eli with us, I wouldn't have loved her as much as I did. Maybe, I would have grown to resent her for being the favorite.
It's those thoughts, that I always push away and just try to enjoy the little moments I have with my family. Then later, I could take the thoughts out, and rip them apart, trying to make myself believe, that they were never there.
Dad died five years after mom left and I don't think I even cried for him. All I remember is feeling relieved, that I wouldn't have to fight for his love anymore. That's another thought, that I would never admit, was there. It wasn't. I loved my father and all I wanted was for him to love me back. I was devastated when he died. At least, that's what I tried to make myself believe.
After dad, we all coped in different ways. Alessandro turned into him, Lorenzo tried to pull us together, but it was useless, Antonio got angry, and Gabriele found art. Me, I started working even harder, trying to push away all the thoughts I would never admit I had. I spent my entire life idolizing our father, but when he was gone, I felt nothing. Maybe that's what he wanted, but I didn't. That's when I realized, how much I truly didn't want to be like him.
When we got Eli back, everything changed for all of us. We started becoming a family again, at least a bit more functional one. We still had our problems, and we probably always will, but it became easier for everyone.
Antonio POV.
I don't really remember a time when I wasn't angry. When I was just a little kid, no one in my family had emotions, so when I had them, I felt like it was wrong, like I was wrong. So, I tried to push them away, but it wasn't easy. However, I found a way, that worked for me. I covered every fear, every bad thought, every sorrow, and every emotion with anger. It was like an emotional armor, that shielded away the part of me, that I despised more than anything. I guess that was pretty common in our family, not feeling things.
When mom left, I was just four years old, so I don't remember a lot of her. I have these flashes of memories surrounding her, but no clear ones. None of the memories are happy ones. I remember her face and her voice, but nothing more. I remember her watching over me and Gabriele as we played with a cigarette in her hand half asleep. Even those memories only came back with Eli.
I don't remember baby Eli. I remember that I had a baby sister, but I don't remember what she looked like, or what she was like. I just remember the name, Serena. Lorenzo made sure, that I knew about her, even after mom left. He showed me, and Gabriele pictures, and told us about her when we were little. I guess it was more for him than for us.
I was nine when dad died. I don't have a lot to say about that. He was not a good man, and he died like one. I think I'm one of the only brothers, who didn't have an emotional link to our father. He didn't really care about me, that much. I was just a kid, and he would let me be one, for a while more, before crushing my soul, like he had done to my older brothers.
With dad gone, Alessandro took his place. Not only as our caretaker, but he turned into a perfect copy of him. I don't really remember why, but I grew to hate him with a strong passion. I started rebelling against him, doing whatever I could to piss him off. I broke all his rules, I went out at night to parties, hooked up with random people, got drunk, did drugs, and fought with my brothers.
It got pretty bad when I was seventeen. I got addicted to painkillers with the occasional weed and alcohol. When I was high, I could feel things without feeling bad about it. I would let out my frustration and bottled-up emotions, without the emotional hangover, where I hated myself. After a while of drug use, it wasn't about feeling anymore, it was about being numb. I didn't feel those things in the background anymore, and I didn't feel angry anymore. It was blissful as shit.
When my brothers found out, shit hit the fan. I had a huge argument with Alessandro. I think that was the only time he had ever yelled, he never had to. There was a lot of screaming, slamming doors, fighting, and violence, but in the end, Alessandro took everything I had and put me in rehab.
At first, he tried to keep me at home, but I had been sneaking out since I was ten, so no one could keep me in there. I don't know if it was because he thought it would be better for me to stay at home, or he thought it would be bad for the business and our image if I was submitted to rehab, but after he realized it wasn't working I was locked up in a facility, with white walls and daily sessions with a psychologist. I hated it more than I hated my brother. I hated it more, than I hated that side of me, that I had pushed away.
I spent two months in that place. At first, I refused to talk about anything, but after so many weeks, it got boring, so I started opening up, just a little bit. Before I knew it, I had let out my entire life story to the psychologist, that I used to hate.
My brothers visited me a lot, but none more, than Alessandro. We didn't talk about anything, that mattered, but he came around once a week to check up on me, and to see if I was okay. He told me about his work, and other things, that were completely meaningless to me, but it was still nice talking with him.
Somewhere within those two months, I stopped hating him so much. I understood, that he was doing what he thought he had to do, what he was taught to do his entire life. So, I forgave him.
After getting out of rehab, I never touched drugs again. I would never not be that angry kid, that had his dreams shattered, but I learned, that it wasn't my fault. I realized harsh truths about my life and ended up getting a bit better.
When Eli came back, I learned even more. I learned, that I could want to protect someone more than I ever thought was possible. I learned just how much one person could affect so many people around them, and I learned how much I could be affected by just one person simply existing.
Gabriele POV.
I was never like my brothers. Maybe because I was always the youngest one, at least for as long as I could remember. When I was a kid, Lorenzo always told us about our little sister, but I never remembered anything about her.
I was just three when mom left, so really don't remember anything about her. I remember asking dad, why mom left, and him telling me to forget about her, but I don't even remember her face from anything other than photos. Same with our baby sister. I was told, that I always loved to play with her, and wouldn't leave her alone for even a minute, but I don't remember any of it. I remember crying when she left, and Alessandro finding me, and panickly telling me to stop before our father found out.
The years between three and eight were pretty much a blur of wanting to play with my brothers, but they never wanted to play with me. I guess it's the youngest child syndrome, but it's really not fun. I always wanted my brothers to like me, but I guess, I was just too little for them.
When I was eight, our father was shot. I didn't really even understand what had happened, or what it would mean, but I remember crying a lot in my room and hiding it from my brothers.
After dad was gone, Alessandro took care of us as the distant caretaker with little to no emotions. I could see, how everything changed in our family. Mainly I could see it in Antonio. he was always my favorite brother since he was just one year older than me. He was the only one, that would play with me, or put up with me, but soon after dad's death, he didn't do that anymore. He locked himself in his room and didn't let me in anymore.
I had always loved drawing. Dad didn't like it, but he didn't really care about what I did. He cared about the oldest ones, and how to make them as perfect as possible. If he would've still been alive, I think he would have probably done the same to me eventually.
Lorenzo was the one that got me my first paints. I think he felt guilty about Antonio shutting himself down, and wanted to keep me open. I started painting a lot, and never got tired of it. At first, Alessandro didn't like it, but I could see him warming up to it, when he saw the things I did, and eventually, he started liking it.
When I heard, that Eli was coming back, I was ecstatic. I didn't have the memories with them, my brothers had, so I was more than happy about getting to make some. Getting to know Eli was painful. No one wants to learn, that the person they care about has been through so much shit, but slowly, we learned how to be around them, and to be better brothers, not only to Eli but to each other.