Antonio knew injuries weren't a stranger to the rough Italian boy currently residing with him. It didn't seem too long ago he would stumble through his open door, caked with dried dirt and sweat, bearing scraped knees. Back then, the wounds were innocent, but now?
These were different. The stone cold mask Lovino now wore was not one to hide giddiness or embarrassment, but fear. Raw, unfiltered fear. The Spaniard could practically see a precariously perched weight balanced on his stiff, hunched shoulders.
New cuts every day, leaving Antonio with the foreboding that Lovino was hiding something. Something dark and possibly dangerous. It was ample cause for concern, but would Lovino let him in? Or would he shut down in favor of pushing Antonio away, only to expose his ever present scowl?
It was like the presence of an unopened package, constantly looming in the doorway. All it provided was a desperate curiosity. Where did the younger man spend his late nights, only to return with fresh wounds, trembling legs, and airs of angry indifference? Where there more scattered scars and newly leaking injuries hidden beneath his long sleeve shirts and dress pants? More importantly, what was the cause, and why did the usually spunky Italian seem to recede into himself day by day, wracked with developing paranoia?
He wanted to grab Lovino and shake him by the shoulders, scream and yell for the names of who hurt him. Secretly, his heart would thrum with anger at the damage. It took all his self-control not to slam down the already frail body and ask, no, demand as to what he had gotten himself into. To not jab a finger into the Italian's chest and promise blood to those who dare touch him. To not force the answers out of the frightened Lovino who was not ready to give them.
Still, though maddening, all he could do was wait for the younger to open up on his own. Even when Lovino would slam open the door with black eyes and scraped limbs, he would smile. It was a smile that felt tight and strained, but was convincing enough to the dreary teen. With a gentle demeanor he would care for the battered Italian, bandaging the wounds on the flesh he was allowed to see, before calmly inquiring as to what happened this time.
It was always the same. Lovino would go rigid, deathly silent for a drawn out moment, before relaxing and looking down at the Spaniard who sat perched on his knees.
"You know what happened," came the words, clipped and short, "I fell."
They both knew the clichéd response was bullshit, but would it really matter what excuse he gave? No matter how naïve Antonio was, he knew the difference between Lovino's lies and the truth, and anything he said now a days was far from it.
As long as it was in Lovino's best interest the Spanish man could ignore the sugar coated lies in favor of feigning patience. He could soak himself with the essence of a calm emotions in hopes it would reassure the Italian he'd come to love that he was open and ready at any point he needed. Antonio would not pry where he was not wanted, or rather, where Lovino was not yet ready to let him in.
But even he had a limit. Antonio could not pretend to be alright today, when Lovino painstakingly fell against the door and into the apartment a tattered, beaten shell of the nineteen year old that had left this morning. No, he couldn't pretend to be content with the half conscious Italian slumped against his door, sporting a busted nose and a bullet in his leg.
"Lovino," the name was barely a whisper on his lips as he rushed to the teen's side, kneeling in front of him and fluttering his coarse hands over the frail body. How could he possibly touch the boy without him withering to dust and slipping through his fingers?
"'Tonie," came the forced grunt through clenched teeth.
"We have to- Ay dios mio- we have to get you to a hospital. Now!" Antonio felt hysteria rising in the form of a lump in his throat.
A surprisingly strong grip clutched to the hem of his white shirt, smearing tiny droplets of blood through the fabric. "No!" A moment of hesitation. "Just… Just don't. Please." The word, though quiet, held a desperate edge.
Antonio paused, if only for a second, before leaning over Lovino. He spoke softly, like he was afraid the words would frighten, or even harm the frail form. "I'm sorry, Lovino, we have to go."
To say the feisty Italian put up a fight was an understatement. He kicked, thrashing in the man's arms, screaming profanities through hoarse lungs. The trip down the stairs to the buildings parking lot was certainly one for the history books.
The car ride was even worse. Lovino, once closed into the vehicle, looked so scared and broken, like he was constantly on the verge of crying. Lips trembling and eyes swelling with unshed tears he whispered to himself, unaware Antonio could hear his shaky voice.
"What do I do? What should I say? How-?" Were the words the Spaniard strained to hear before he relapsed into Italian.
The pathetic sight was devastating. What monster had the teen so utterly terrified? Lovino wasn't that bad, was he? There was nothing he could have done to deserve this, was there? The only thing that came to the Spaniards mind was that Lovino had buried himself deep, six feet into something illegal.
Mio Dio, Lovino. What have you done?
His own thought hung in the air. What was he hiding? Now he knew he should have pried until Lovino let him know what was going on. Surely, he could have prevented this? If anything had happened to Lovino, had, God forbid, the Italian had not come back one day, what would he do? Drink himself into oblivion? Go into a raging depression with the knowledge he could have done more? He couldn't even imagine life anymore without the feisty Lovino, though, he hadn't even been staying with him that long.
He'd made a colossal mistake. Instead of waiting for Lovino to open up to him he should have pried the locked gates apart and then taken him far, far away. It was almost inappropriate with their relationship, as Lovino was just staying with him until he got back on his feet, but he would not hesitate to take him away to Spain or even back to Italy if that meant removing him from harm.
"An….Antonio…."
"Si?"
"I feel funny…"
Antonio snuck a glance at the slouched Italian before turning his eyes back to the road, concern overtaking him. "Funny?"
"Si, black clouds," his voice grew impossibly weak and frightened, "they're over taking my vision. I think I'm going to…. to… feint." The last word was barely a breath. Lovino collapsed completely, crumpling up like paper as his head hit the dashboard with a soft thunk. Antonio became painfully aware of the metallic smell that always accompanied copious amounts of blood.
Eyes widening, not even able to yell Lovino's name he slammed on the accelerator, though the road was relatively clear he had to speed past some cars. His manor of driving could put Italians to shame, but all he could think is that they were almost there, and that Lovino was in a lot of trouble.
It seemed like an eternity before he reached the hospital. Not even bothering to park he pulled up to the front, springing from the car and at the passenger's side door in a flash. Unbuckling and pulling the limp Lovino's body to him bridal style he sprinted to the front doors.
He pushed against them with his back and immediately felt all eyes on him. It was like one of those overdone ER shows. Nurses and doctors alike swarmed him, a gurney was rolled out in an instant.
It was all so fast. Antonio wanted to cling to the warmth that was Lovino, some irrational part of his mind believed leaving him in someone else's care wasn't right, but his body moved on his own. He put the Italian down on the gurney.
He caught a glimpse of Lovino before he was swiftly wheeled away. Curled on his side, face scrunched in pain even in unconsciousness. Now he saw that Lovino looked even worse than when he first assessed, even more damaged and bloody then he previously noticed. Antonio could feel his heart breaking. He felt physically sick, ready to collapse in a heap and wretch all over the floors. His body trembled violently and for a moment he believed he would.
He tried to follow, oh did he try. It took all his strength to get his legs to work. Antonio bet he was stumbling to keep up with the doctors, hell, he was sure of it. His knees shook so violently and his legs felt so weak. Still, he had to keep up with Lovino.
At some double doors a blonde nurse stopped him forcefully, her strong hands a contradiction to her feminine frame. "Sir, you are not permitted beyond this point. Please take a seat in the waiting room and we will call you when we are ready." Her voice was so calm. How? How could she be so calm when Lovino was hurt?
His fingers twitched, resisting the urge to throttle her. She looked like a perfectly nice lady, but the influence of his high strung emotions and desperate need to stay with Lovino made his image of her warp into a demon. He let out a breath when she disappeared into the ER ward, glad she left when she did.
His legs gave out then, falling onto his knees and hunching his shoulders in like he could disappear from the world. It was all his fault. He was just so stupid! Lovino could die and he let it happen! He let it get this far!
There were a million ways Antonio could have prevented this, but that would have just been too easy, wouldn't it? Instead of taking some action like a normal person he had to wait, take it easy while Lovino was smacked around everyday.
Antonio couldn't take his own thoughts. Was there permanent damage? Would Lovino even survive? Oh, God, it really was all his fault. What kind of person just sits there and watch someone, who he admittedly had feelings for, get terrorized?
He wanted to punch himself, or better, he wanted to switch places with Lovino.
A bitter laugh escaped his shaky lips. No, Lovino wasn't the type of person to sit back and do nothing. He would yell and pry and nose around until he had his answers. He was better than him. Lovino could have at least handled this situation. Yes, the roles should have been switched, because if Antonio was in Lovino's place there was no way either of them could have ended up so broken.
Antonio's face felt uncharacteristically wet, and as he brought a hand to his face he knew he was crying. Now he noticed his own eyes brimmed with tears, slightly raw with the sheer amounts of strain. It wasn't a surprise he was crying. The mere thought of Lovino strapped to an IV or possibly going under the knife was enough to make him outright sob.
And he did, too. As soon as he felt himself crying they escalated into horrible, body wracking sobs. It was hard to breathe. It was hard to think about anything else besides this scenario that was ultimately his fault. His doing.
He felt a hand on his shoulder, a soft voice asking if he was ok, but he wasn't. Antonio ignored the stranger in favor of glaring bleary eyed at the door, mentally reaching for what lay beyond that point.
No te mueras, Lovino. Te amo.
A/N: Do you ever write something out than put it on here and it just seems ten times shorter? On my computer this was roughly four pages and on here it just seems so short to me.
Translations:
No te mueras, Lovino. Te Amo.- Don't die, Lovino. I love you.
Ay Dios mios- Oh my god
Basically everything Spanish (or even Italian, in the future) is from google translate, so if your a native speaker and want to drop in the actual translation when I fuck up go right ahead and I'll try and change in when I get the chance.
I guess R&R would be appropriate for an authors note. It's really appreciated even though now that I'm looking at this chapter as a whole it's just... Ugh. You know? Writing is hard. I'm especially bad at conveying emotions, it's hard for me to put into words. I'm sure someone can relate to seeing an image in your head and not being talented enough to put it on paper. Just, ugh.Ughhhhhhh.
On another note when I uploaded this FF deleted part of it, so if it seems weird or jumbled it may be that. I looked it over and I think I fixed all of it but you never know.
Anyway, bye! Until next time, maybe?