Lovino sighed deeply as he checked his phone still lying in bed. His package should already be here. Maybe. Probably. Hopefully. He bit his lower lip and listened for signs of his brother still in the house. He knew Feliciano was in their grandfather's house. In fact, Lovino had planned for the package to arrive during the days that he wouldn't be around. But still, paranoia stuck to the back of his mind constantly, whispering the worst about everything.
He heard a motorcycle starting in front of the house, and Lovino jumped out of bed, running down the stairs to open the door and found a package on his doorstep along with a mess of letters thrown all around it.
"What the hell," he muttered as he collected the letters and looked at the package. It was way bigger than he expected. And heavier.
He left the letters on the living room table and ran upstairs with the box in his hands.
"Stupid packaging," he said as he put the box on his bed and opened it. He felt around a sea of packing peanuts for the books he had ordered, when his hand grabbed something hard and cold. "Uh?"
He pulled out something heavy and long that seemed to glitter underneath the almost transparent packing paper. He peeled the paper away to reveal an antique looking dagger held within a sheath embroidered with golden thread that sparkled with the light that filtered from the window.
Lovino felt a weight settle in his chest. He left the dagger on his bed and grabbed the box. On the side with the address it read:
Antonio Fernandez Carriedo
Plaza Cibeles, 1 28014 Madrid
España
"Madrid?... Madrid?! What the fuck?!" yelled Lovino.
Madrid was so far from Milán that the very idea someone could get the addresses mixed up made Lovino lose faith in humanity. And who the hell was this Antonio whatever who bought fucking weapons over the internet? He was surely some weirdo obsessed with guns and knives like the ones he heard about on tv, who were apparently all over America.
Lovino threw the dagger back on the box, sealed it shut again, and threw it on the deepest corner of his closet for the time being while he decided what to do with it.
Then he crawled back into bed, and kept waiting for his package.
He waited, only getting out of bed after the sun went down to cook something to eat. He would inevitably overcook the pasta, or forget to add salt to whatever he had made, and he would end up hating the food with every bite and wondering just why he had even gotten out of bed.
He waited, and waited, and lost track of the time and the days until he opened his eyes and saw Feliciano smiling down at him. That annoying smile that was half love and half worry.
"Wakey wakey, big bro," said Feliciano, ruffling Lovino's hair.
His hand felt cold on Lovino's head and he glared at Feliciano.
"You're back?" he asked, glaring some more before burying himself in the covers.
"Yup," said Feliciano, opening the curtains and the windows to let the air in. "Grandpa was sad that you couldn't come."
"Yeah, well, spending days in the wild listening to nothing isn't my idea of fun," said Lovino.
"It was fun. We made a lot of delicious food. Grandpa sent you a bunch of it. Come on, he cooked some spaghetti for you this morning and wants me to call him and tell him if you liked it or not."
"That's stupid. Of course I'll like it," said Lovino, and climbed out of the bed.
The air blew through the open window, cold and harsh over his hot cheeks.
"Come on," said Feliciano, standing at the door.
He knows whispered the paranoia at the back of Lovino's head. He knows that as long as you don't have to pretend in front of anyone, you can't even get up from bed. You can't even live.
"Sure," said Lovino.