Greaser. Outcast. The two words practically meant the same thing to Feliciano Vargas, who couldn't seem to understand why there was so much hate for him and his family and friends, who were all grouped into this social status of being lower than the other group. The other group was referred to as 'Socs', and boy did those Socs hate greasers. Fights between the two groups broke out as easily as someone could light a match, and they could end in the amount of time it took for that match to burn out. The aftermath was scary as the way the two fought was ruthless and Feliciano had spent many a night trying to bandage his older brother Lovino, whose temper often got the better of him and often managed to outnumber himself so badly that he shouldn't of even survived some of the beatings he had received. It was the same for Feliciano's younger brother, Severo, who Feliciano had also helped tend to his wounds, but one day, he didn't have to anymore. He hadn't stopped fighting, but he died, and Feliciano had never been told exactly why. That scared him, and of course it were to scare any sane person. Lovino, however, had always told Feliciano that no matter what he did around the Socs, he had to make sure that he looked tuff. Feliciano was in no way 'tuff', not tough because that wasn't cool enough, since he was more pudgy than he was muscular, and he may be taller than Lovino but he was more of a coward to stand tall above anyone. He could barely crack his own knuckles without hurting himself. Though the older brother knew Feliciano could never throw a punch, Feliciano was told to make it look as if he could.
...Maybe that was why Feliciano was in such trouble now. Because he looked in no way 'tuff', and daren't he say strong or ready to take anyone on.
It all started with a taunt. It was a Monday afternoon and Feliciano had been walking down his highschool's hallway to the exit doors as the final bell had rang. He had his book bag on his shoulders, but he had to stop by his locker to put his books up that he didn't need to use to study that night, so the hallways had cleared out a little more before he started to keep going. He took a turn into a hallway that was deserted of students or teachers, but as he walked, he could hear more footsteps other than his own. The freshman Italian didn't turn around and continued to head to the door, suspecting it only be a few students late as he was to leave. But then, only a few feet away from the exit, he heard a snide, "Aren't you going to apologize, Greaser?".
Feliciano now looked over his shoulder, confused as to if the question was directed to him. Standing a short distance behind him was another student in a green and beige Varsity jacket, who was approaching him slowly. Feliciano could also see that there were several more students in Varsity jackets as well who started to gather around him. Feliciano clutched onto his book bag as he turned around, the pace of his heart picking up. "For what...?", He asked in return, his voice full of dread for not just taking his books with him and leaving. If he had just did that, he wouldn't of even been in this type of situation right then, but now he was being falsely accused by a large group of Socs that could probably snap his neck if they so wanted to. Maybe they did, maybe that was why they were preying on him like a pack of wild, hungry wolves on the hunt.
"Isn't it obvious? For tripping me.", The Soc replied, his hands going into his jacket pocket. From behind the Soc, Feliciano could see the others chattering amongst themselves, and one even dropped their bookbag onto the floor, making Feliciano all the more nervous. They were planning something, weren't they? What was it that they were planning? Honestly, Feliciano did not want to know anytime soon, but it seemed like he was going to find out wether he wanted to or not. It wasn't like he could run, as a few Socs circled around him and got in his way of the exit doors, making him feel even more helpless. He wished he could've made a run for it before they did so, but even then, they would have probably stopped him from opening the door and leaving, pulling him back into the hallway.
Feliciano gave the Soc a confused look, and replied, "What are you talking about? I never tripped you...", The Italian assumed that the Soc wasn't going to take this for an answer. Feliciano was beginning to understand the situation. He had been the only person, the only Greaser, in the hallway. This group of boys, these Socs, had planned to corner someone, and probably anyone that was not in their social status. A dumb thing really, and right now, being a Greaser was helping nothing at all.
"Yes, you did, now fucking apologize or you'll be an ant under my shoe.", The Soc gave a huff of amusement as he stepped closer to Feliciano. This sent a chill up his spine, and Feliciano finally realized the Soc's goal. To beat the living hell out of him. For fun. Feliciano didn't think he would ever know how any of this, all of this fighting and bullying, could ever be considered 'fun'. It wasn't fun, it was horrible and pointless, but now it was happening to him. This guy, whoever this Soc was, was trying to make up a lie to make Feliciano either apologize or get into a fight with him. Feliciano had the right mind to apologize, but if he did, he only knew that he would be mocked for being so easy-going about things, and being called vunerable and weak (in which he was, but he told himself as well as Lovino that would never let anyone find out). On top of that, he knew that he would still get his teeth knocked out by the group, so what was the use of having to go through all of that embarassment? He remembered his older brother's words, and figured that the only way he could get out of this was to risk it. But he was one person, one person who could not fight for his life, against at least six Socs who were most likely experienced fighters.
There was a lot to risk and lose, but he just had to do something. He couldn't appear weak. So, Feliciano decided to drop his book bag as well, and as soon as he did, most of the other Socs did the same. From there, he took a defensive stance, as he called it. Although he probably looked rather stupid in what he was doing, he raised his fists. A demeanor that would have been a little bit of help in this situation, stressing on a little help, it was all but contradicted by the utterly terrifed look upon his face as the student was only about a foot away from him now, a smirk labeling his face. Was Feliciano shaking? Was that what was funny? He prayed to God that he was not shaking in his shoes, knowing all too well that he was. "O, so you want to fight now, Greaser?", The Soc asked slyly, as if to try to cover up that fighting was his intent all along. With no more context, not another word, the Soc lunged forward, and took a swing with his own fist at Feliciano, who quickly managed to duck and slide around the student, going behind him, unbawling his own fist, and with a drop of his heart beat, he shoved him away from him.
The Soc was sent stumbling a bit away and ended up on his knees. Feliciano was both shocked and amazed about what he had just done, but he knew it had also been a very big mistake. Mistake it was, for the Soc sent a glare back at Feliciano. Feliciano's eyes met the others, and he felt like he could be about to faint just then, when he heard the words, "Get him.", and he was already being pulled backwards by his shirt collar, being slammed by one of the other Socs into a set of lockers. Feliciano let out a sharp gasp as he steadied himself, and he felt like he had an opening to make a run for it. However, as he tried to dash for the doors, the Socs had already surrounded him again. Everytime he tried to make a break to leave, the crowd shoved him back into the lockers over and over again. He couldn't press through, and it felt like he was drowning. This process repeated until Feliciano dropped to his knees, just to be heaved up, and then...punched? Feliciano had tried to call out for help, as if he would be able to get any in the empty school hallways, but the punch that was shanked into his gut intercepted his ability to speak, much less scream. He was only able to squeak in pain as he doubled over. He was forced onto the ground even more, and curled himself into a ball as he was now being both punched and kicked. Not only did that hurt a hell of a lot, but he was being called all sorts of things that he didn't even want to think of. There were even words that he had never heard before in his life, but it could have just been some sort of American slang. Even worse, there was racial slang; these students had to have found out who he was. Apparently, in high schools, word gets around very quickly about a transfer student from Italy. Finally, Feliciano had found enough strength to muster out a shriek, "I'm sorry!". He had actually expected for it to get them to stop, and maybe they just didn't hear him, so he repeated it again, yet they continued. He now regretted following his brother's advice and made a mental note to never follow them again, and prayed that soon the Socs would leave him alone to allow him to wallow in his tears that streamed from his eyes unvoluntarily.
...
Sophmore Ludwig Beilschmidt was just leaving his last class for the day. He was glad it was his last class for the day as he was ready to get home and just do something else, anything but schoolwork. He liked to relax and sometimes even take small afternoon naps, but he devoted most of his free time to his own work, a craft that he had taken on a few years back. Maybe he could play with his dogs, but he would always do that in the end. Ludwig didn't have any homework such as projects and essays due, so he figured he would be able to do as he pleased, so whatever that was, he would be free to do it, since his brother Gilbert was going over to Rodriech Edelstein's house to take him to his piano recital; Rodriech was a freshman and didn't have a car yet so he couldn't drive himself. Ludwig would figure out what he was going to do when he got home later, and for now he was busy with putting his books up in his locker. Normally, Ludwig would study. He was the only one in the house that would. Besides his brother, there was his grandfather, who weren't to be home until late because of a bussiness meeting in town. That said, Ludwig would be alone in the house for quite some time. He favored the sound of that idea, so why shouldn't he enjoy being alone for a few hours instead of taking up the hours studying? It wasn't like Ludwig was going to fail his test on Thursday, he already knew everything that he needed to know.
It was quiet in the school after he had finished putting away his books, and so he had simply assumed to be the last student in the building. He was the last in the hallway, for sure, and the bell had stopped ringing a few minutes ago. Everyone had cleared out, so it would be much easier for Ludwig to make his way to the parking lot to leave. He started down the hall that would take him outside of the building and to the sidewalk to lead him to his car when he heard distant yelling on a different hall than he was on. The German boy flinched and listened as he heard something collide with metal, more like a locker, and he already had a gist about what was going on. He inferred it to just be a fight, but why shouldn't he just take a peek? He did not have to worry about being dragged in, since he was titled as a 'Soc', rather someone who should not be messed with. Ludwig refused this title greatly, but it was not his choice to be what he wanted to be. He was tough, not 'tuff' as for he was told that was a Greaser thing. He was built rather well for a boy his age, and sometimes he regretted that. But he could stand up for himself, and that was what mattered. Could he stand up for others? He did not know.
Ludwig sighed as he gave into his own curiousity, and began to make his way to the corridor that he heard the ruckus coming from. When he got there, it was just as he had assumed it to be; a fight between a pack of vile Socs and a poor little Greaser, curled into a ball of the floor, quivering but did not seem as if they had the strength and or the will to make any more movements. Where were his friends? Why was the kid all alone, getting the living shit beat right out of him? This wasn't a fair fight at all, and although there were no weapons as far as Ludwig could see, this mass of Socs could easily kill the Greaser! Ludwig took a step forward before he realized he was doing so, catching the attention of one of the Socs who stood smiling rather foolishly proud in the background, and so he asked him, "Hey. What's going on here?".
One of the Socs, the one that had started all of this, quickly turned around when he saw someone in the corner of his eye step into view. He raised a fist, expecting it to be another greaser, then the angered looked vanished and he dropped his fist back down to his side. The two Socs knew each other, not as friends, not as enemies, just mere aquaintances. "Oh, it's you." He said, and his entire expression changed where it was as if he was trying to strike up a friendly conversation as he glanced down at the Greaser and then back up at Ludwig, who stood starkly in confusion. "Nothing unusual,", He began to answer Ludwig's question. "Just teaching this Greaseball a lesson.". Ludwig looked over at the boy, who was helplessly laying with his back to the lockers as if he was a busted up punching bag that was well over it's use. It seemed like the fight would never stop, but Ludwig wished that it would. He didn't even know the kid, and although the kid was a Greaser, that did not matter one bit to Ludwig. It was so unfair, and it made Ludwig cringe when he saw it happening. It wasn't the first time he'd seen it happening, but it was the first he had been close to.
The boy's head moved up,and he saw there was a small gap between two of the Socs. He had probably just about enough room to make it out, but could he really make it? Just assuming that he could and not doing anything about it would not solve the situation, so the boy did what he could with only one way to find out, and used whatever strength he hadn't used to spring forward, managing miraciously to get through the gap and shove himself to his feet as he tried to make a run for it. He got a few yards away before he was stumbled and was consequently caught by the Socs chasing after him, laughing, and tugging him back in again. The Greaser had then unitentionally made it worse for himself, and wasn't even given the chance to protect himself by curling into a ball as he had his arms forced apart, and made sure he couldn't drop to his knees or anything as the other Socs could do whatever they liked with him. The Greaser tried his best to kick and get himself free, but the chances of that happening was slim as for the Socs' hold on his tightened and tightened and he was in too much pain because of their hold to be able to do anything else. "Please stop!", His voice rang out hoarsely as he begged, like it was going to help. His voice wasn't as loud as it had been before, but he tried his best. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean to do it! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!", He sobbed out pitifully.
This boiled Ludwig's blood.
"...What did he do?", Ludwig asked, but figured he didn't even need an answer. Really, he didn't want one, because it was all going to be such a huge bluff. He knew how Socs were. Not himself, but real Socs. As the one next to him, all smug and dandy that he had his lackies beating the hell out of some defensive kid. He couldn't fight back, so where was the fun in any of that? It was pointless, cold, and was going to make Ludwig sick. The kid didn't deserve what was happening to him. Ludwig didn't know what he did, but he saw the kid. The Greaser wasn't even strong enough to fight back, he wasn't strong enough to barely yell now. What could he have done that was so horrible and unforgiving that would make this group of bullies need to advenge it? This was over done, this was just too much. The boy's face was bleeding, and his stomach was caved in to the point that he looked so very unhealthy, and at this rate of ruthless beating, he wouldn't be from then on. Ludwig couldn't and wouldn't take seeing him be hurt like this, he couldn't take anyone being hurt like this. Yes, he was a Greaser. Yes, Ludwig was a Soc. But what did all that nonsense between social groups mean to him? Not one fucking penny's worth.
"Guys, let him go. Drop him. Now.", He spat out gruffly, a bit surprisingly as he didn't think it over in his head first before saying it himself. "This isn't worth it and it isn't a fair fight. You pride yourself on fighting? How about fighting a fair fight? That sound more entertaining to you, huh? Bet it does. Whoever started this...", Ludwig glared over at the Soc beside him, who was busy staring at him as if he was crazy or something. Maybe he was for saying this. Maybe he was going to get the snot beat out of him as well. Ludwig didn't mind. At least he had the gut to make things right. More likely, the brains; it didn't take much wit to find this brutal and cruel. "...you should be ashamed of yourself. All of you, too. So put him down now. The kid said he was sorry. Take that into consideration.".
"...", the Soc that had been talking to Ludwig went silent, his face a blur of shock, anger, and..thinking. For once. It would have been amusing to Ludwig if all that was occuring was not occuring, and then he probably would have chuckled a little bit about how silly the shitty Soc looked.
Hearing someone saying something, the Greaser also noticed that none of the Socs that had been hitting him were not attacking him at the moment. Still shaking, however, he looked up to try to see who had said what they had said. He had barely comprehended what had been said anyhow, as he was fading in and out and all he could hear was mostly himself and the Socs having their ways with beating the hell out of him. Quite a distance away, the boy could see a student with slickened back blonde hair, cut very short. He wore a long sleeved, buttoned up, red shirt with cuffs at the end, which was then at the bottom tucked into his khaki pants. He had nice, black dress shoes, and didn't even look like he was a student. He seemed more like a teacher, really, with how tall and built he was, and how deep his voice was. It would have made the boy squirm, but he couldn't with how he was being held in place. Even so, the boy discovered him to only be a student, for he had a book bag strapped around his shoulders, and he was a little disheartened until he realized that he was also the reason why he wasn't still being hit. But...that couldn't be right. The student looked like a Soc, and dressed like one too, except for the sport jackets and such. Why was the Soc helping him? But, then again, he was the only one who could have stopped them since the other Socs were too busy enjoying beating him up the entire time. The Greaser's eyes were thankful towards the Soc, but they were still full of pain.
The Soc that had started the whole perdicament stared at the two that were holding the boy and seemed to take a moment of consideration as Ludwig had asked, no, instructed him to. Ludwig knew well that the Soc was likely to reject, but when the Soc gave a single nod to the other Socs and told them, "You heard him. Let the kid go.", Before the kid knew it, he was falling to the floor, and he landed with a thud as he had been dropped by the Socs. They back away from him, seeming a bit fazed at their 'leader' of sort's command, as well as Ludwig's. However, fearing that they were only pulling a mean trick on him, the boy curled himself into a ball once more and shivered as he awaited the next blow, but none came. He forced himself to sit up and wobbily lean back on his bruised arms, and stared up at everyone in the hallway. The main Soc then told his friends blankly, "Go on. Get out of here.", and just like that, they complied and left with their bookbags back on and in a group as if nothing had even happened. As if that Greaser's blood was not stained on their fists, as if his struggling and screaming and his frightened, hopeless face was not tattoed forever in the back of their minds. Was it that it simply did not matter to them a second more, or was it that it never did? Ludwig thought the worst about their sick deeds, but as soon as they left, the Soc turned to him and snarled, "I'm going to let that one slide, Kraut. But you better know next time you try to defend Grease, you'll be treated like Grease. Understand, or do you need me to refrase that in German?". Ludwig said not one word to him. "...good.", The Soc finally said, before turning on his heel and following his friends to the door, glaring down at the broken boy as he passed. The Greaser tried to scoot away from him, his gaze shifting over to the remaining Soc; the one who most likely just saved his life.
Ludwig didn't let the so-called 'threat' or 'warning' or whatever gibberish was said to him faze him. He wouldn't even spare time on a sarcastic comment like, 'O, wow, I'm so scared that I stood up for a defenseless boy and was threatened by a boy not nearly as tall as me.'. That wasn't worth his time. As if Ludwig would ever care if they tried to turn him into a punching bag, because he knew very well he would nip that right in the bud. Not even worried about what he had just did, not even thinking about the possiblity of them telling his big brother Gilbert, who was a popular Soc with a fighting streak, Ludwig was solely worried about the boy before him. Ludwig knew the boy was badly injured, and it hurt Ludwig to look over him like he was, even though they did not know each other, both strangers in each others' eyes. The German began to creep slowly a bit closer, not wanting to scare him. "Hey...", He started. "You alright, kid?".
Though the boy was pretty sure that this Soc was the one who helped him for whatever reason he did so, that could not stop him from tensing up and pushing himself a little way from the remaining guy. His heart still pounding, and with him out of breath from everything that just happened, he was still scared that the other was pulling a nice trick on him and soon he would be pulled right back into the brutal events once more. The Soc looked tougher, not 'tuff-er' since that was only reserved for Greasers and for Socs that would be degrading of sorts, than all of the other Socs combined. He probably wasn't, but it was only the Italian's suspicions. Still, Feliciano stared at the Soc for a long while before nodding a few times dazily and pressing his back against one of the lockers that he hadn't been pushed into on the other side of the hallway. He used the locker as his support to pull himself up, before asking, just to be sure that he was correct about this, "You're...you're the one who told them to stop...?", in a quiet voice. He did not only ask this to make sure no one was tricking him, he also asked this in case his own mind was tricking him into thinking someone had stopped them. Maybe no one had said anything at all. Maybe he had just imagined it. But to be honest, he really hoped that it wasn't just his imagination that ran wild with thoughts, plans, ideas, and whatever else it could conjure up in the time he was being attacked.
Ludwig felt his heart thump and ache a bit when the Greaser had pulled away from him, knowing all too well that he wasn't going to trust him right away, or maybe not at all. Ludwig understood that the boy could have been thinking this was a trick, and Ludwig did not like that he would think so. The German planned to change the boy's views about him since he did not want him to be scared of him. There were many people afraid of him because of the way he was built for his age, and his aura he gave off of seriousness. He had the ability to seriously injure someone, that was for sure, but Ludwig never planned to. He didn't want to hurt the Greaser before him, just like anyone else. "Yes.", He began to answer the other boy. "I don't know what you did, but I...I would've fended them off better, I just...I'm sorry about them.". Ludwig could faintly hear his own thick German accent in his deep voice waver a bit as he talked, and had to clear his throat. With his brows furrowed, he gazed away, adding, "...I'm just really surprised they all listened to me. Relieved, though.".
A flash of a small smile appeared on Feliciano's face, who was well known to smile brightly in the most dim of situtations. "I am too.", He commented, before quickly adding, his smile fading away as he was prodded with pain again in his crippling stomach, "Uh, I didn't do anything to them, I swear!". Feliciano figured that he was needing to explain himself, but at the moment he could choose between the words 'explain' and 'defend'. It was most likely both, because what he was doing felt like both. "T-They were telling me to apologize because I tripped one of them - well, I didn't trip him, they were just saying that...and he got close to me and I tried to make it look like I was going to fight him, because, well, that's what my big brother told me to do anyways, even though I won't fight anyone...but then the boy tried to hit me, and I pushed him, and then he...", Feliciano cut himself off as he caught his breath a bit, his lungs now aching from excelling so much air in that one very drawn out sentence. The Italian remembered all that had happened and was not willing to tell about still being able to feel every single one of those punches hitting him over and over again, so he snapped out of his thoughts and shook his head. Although he couldn't forget it, he'd push that back for now. Not only was he gibberish-speaking far too much, the Greaser was also being impolite. He hadn't even thought about introducing himself, if the Soc even cared. "Uh...grazie. I mean, thank you for helping me...I'm Feliciano Vargas.", He told him, but didn't expect it to matter since the Soc would probably have nothing to do with him after that day, but he wished to not be only a stranger to him.
"It's okay...no need to explain anything to me. What I saw was enough to convince me that it was not right.", He paused from a moment after hearing the other student's name. Feliciano Vargas. A name not hard to remember, and most certainly a face he would not forget, the face under all the scrapes, bruises, and spots of blood coming from his mouth and nose, that is. He was obviously from Italy, his accent and name was enough to tell him that. Something they both had in common; accents that were apparently hilarious for Americans to mock, and being a long way away from their original home. "...right. I'm Ludwig Beilschmidt.". Feliciano blinked a lot as the Soc announced his name. 'Ludwig'...'Ludvig', he mentally repeated his name over and over in his head, thinking over the way it had been pronounced by him.
"...I don't think I'll ever understand those thick-headed jerks.", Ludwig said before continuing, "To be honest with you, I don't enjoy being labeled as one of them...a 'Soc', but it is what it is, I assume it must always be.", Ludwig told him as he gripped onto the straps of his own backpack that was strapped over his wide shoulders. He began to look the Italian over a bit, and could tell ever without having to look at him that he was in a great amount of pain. The boy could barely stand without having to prop himself up, for God's sake! There was no need to have to ask if he was hurting, because it was far to out there and Ludwig was not an oblivious type of person; he saw and took mental notes of every single thing he felt was important. That said, yes, he thought that Feliciano Vargas, a Greaser, was important to him. "...if you need any help getting home from here, I can assist you...although, I do not know how kindly your family would take that a...'Soc' was trying to help you.".
Feliciano had listened a bit eagerly to what Ludwig had to say about the Socs being complete jerks. They seriously was, and after what all they had done to him, their reputation did not better itself with Feliciano. After Ludwig had gotten done with telling him about how he didn't want to be labelled as a Soc, Feliciano was a bit more relaxed about their encounter. Still, he could be lying. It was no time to jump to conclusions, now was it? So he stopped himself from assuming right then and there that Ludwig was once of the most trustworthy Soc's he'd ever met, because he hadn't met any trustworthy Socs and was still wary of this one. However, Ludwig soon reached a point in the conversation where he stopped talking completely and glanced up and down Feliciano, making Feliciano a little nervous as he did. Still, after he did that, he asked to take him home. Feliciano didn't know how to respond to this at first, but he started thinking about all of the possiblities that could happen if he were to just walk home. First of all, he was still very much in pain. What if he couldn't walk, or if he passed out? Second of all, what if he ran into any of the Socs that could've waited around for him, or just saw him and decided to try to finish whatever it was that they had started. They did start a very long headache for the Italian, and it was not going away anytime soon. That said, Feliciano was afraid to walk home alone, and although he still didn't know how to feel about Ludwig, he seemed like a pretty nice guy, he mentally hoped. "Ah, sure, if it isn't too much trouble. I'm...sure they won't mind.", He lied. If Lovino or his grandfather, Romulus Vargas, ever found out about him riding home with a Soc, he would be in some pretty big trouble.
Ludwig nodded to let Feliciano know in short that it was just fine if he needed to ride with him. He probably wouldn't of had let him walk alone anyways, even if he had to walk him home and come back to get his car. Ludwig didn't know exactly why he cared, it was probably just because hw simply had nothing better to do at home. He had a great amount of spare time to use up, so why not use it wisely and help someone? This kid was someone he could help; he seemed like he needed someone to sturdy him, so that was exactly what Ludwig was going to do. But, upon closer examination of the situation, maybe it would be best for Ludwig to ask yet another question. "Feliciano, I don't know if any of your family is going to be home, but if you want, I could take you to my house and I could try to clean you up. I don't know how anyone in your household would react to you showing up all bloody and such, and besides, my house is pretty close to the school, not even a mile away, and my family is gone for the day.". He didn't expect Feliciano to accept his offer, but he still at least had to try.
"...", Feliciano went silently for a longer time now; Ludwig was wanting to try to bandage him and there was no one at his house? It sounded like a trick, and Feliciano was about to deny, but then he thought about how his grandfather would react if he came home in the state he was currently in. Not only him, but his big brother too. Both of them were totally over protective of him, and that wasn't so much of as good thing even protection wise. Knowing either one of them, Feliciano was almost certain that one of them would get angry and go break something because of him getting hurt and them not being able to do much of anything about it. With Lovino, he would probably start a fight with a group of random Socs that he would convince himself to have started everything, and once more, Feliciano would be having to start bandaging him as his grandfather gave Lovino the usual lecture he recieved basically every month. Maybe Feliciano's best option was to let Ludwig try to bandage him, just praying he wasn't lying and wasn't going to hurt him when they got to his house. When he got brought to his own house, if he did, that is, he could just lie and tel his family he had accidentally gotten hurt during gym. Lovino and his grandfather both knew how ditzy Feliciano was, since he really was, so they would most likely buy it. He hoped. "Um...I-If that's all right with you. I mean, you don't have to or anything, but...it would be very nice. Thank you.", He said, whimpering a bit as Ludwig moved closer to him until Feliciano could lean on him, and move his arm around Ludwig's shoulder for support.
Ludwig didn't confirm with words, but it was okay with him. No one ever trusted Ludwig, so he was glad that Feliciano was at least trying to. Even though Ludwig wasn't one of the lead Socs like the one who had started the fight against Feliciano had been, Ludwig was still well known, and taking one mere glance at him and it was already so easy to tell that he was intimidating. Because of that, many other students steered clear from him and aimed their best to not upset him, but he rarely showed any emotion at all. Ludwig had picked up Feliciano's book bag and also draped it over his left shoulder, the other being occupied by Feliciano's arm. He placed an arm around his waist, as gently as he could so he would not hurt him. Feliciano was short than him, but for the skinny Italian that he was, it was only by a few inches. He started to walk Feliciano out of the school building, and constantly checked on him to make sure he wasn't hurting him. They were silent for a while till Ludwig opened his car door and allowed Feliciano to get in. Then, he closed the door, and got in on the driver's side.
Feliciano was so exhausted from the fight that he was so glad to be able to sit down comfortably now. He had gotten the breath knocked out of him at some point of the fight, and it hurt to inhale even the littlest intake of air. Even sitting down in the convertable red car that Ludwig had, Feliciano barely felt safe, as he continued to keep a very keen eye out for any Socs other than Ludwig. Any Socs that had been involved in the fight, rather the gang bullying session. It could barely be called a fight with the fight being raged one sided. When Ludwig got into the car, he flinched, his eyes flashing over to him as he frantically asked whilst he had the chance to jump out, "This-...This isn't a...trick? Are you sure this isn't a trick? You aren't going to hurt me, right?". Feliciano knew this to be a stupid question, but not because he knew for sure that Ludwig wouldn't hurt him. It was because if Ludwig was planning to hurt him, why would he be so foolish and tell him?
Ludwig was a little offended after figuring out that Feliciano didn't actually trust him at all, but maybe he did since he did allow Ludwig to walk him out to his, Ludwig's, own car, and accepted the offers for him to provide to help him with his wounds as well as give him transportation home. The offense that Ludwig had taken was quickly withdrawled as he realized this worry that Feliciano pratically had printed on his face was only normal, so he replied sincerily, "I would never hurt you. There's no reason for me to. I have nothing against you, but if I did, I wouldn't hurt you. I just met you today. You're hurt. I don't like fights. And, more so, I don't like people who hurt people...that's an understatement...I despise them.".
How did Ludwig get pulled into taking care of this kid again, and not only that,but actually caring about him? Ludwig didn't think a second about it. It was simply what he did at the time. It felt good to take on the responsibility of taking care of someone for once. He hadn't ever been taught to, except for to his family. Other than that, by his older brother, he had been taught to treat Greasers as outcasts, which he never did. Why would he? The one he had just met was so nice. But Gilbert...Gilbert was different. He was albino, yes, but that didn't make him all that different. People respected him for one reason. Because he led a pack of Socs that had a few members that were experienced killers, but no one but the group knew that. Ludwig knew after overhearing a conversation in Gilbert's room when his friends came over, Ludwig having hid in his room rather than come out and possibly have to face any one of them. Gilbert not only led a group of netorius Socs, but you could already tell by his looks if you didn't already know him and his ways, and couldn't already see his ego spilling out of his grin and seeping into his aura. It was vile, really, Gilbert was vile. But, Ludwig had to live with him. He loved him, but not his ways, and maybe not even to death.
Feliciano gave a quiet sigh of relief as Ludwig confirmed that he wasn't going to hurt him, but a confused look crossed over his face when the Soc admitted to not liking fighting. It wasn't like he actually thought he was lying, it was just strange about how someone so muscular and tall did not like to fight like the other Socs did. But Ludwig wasn't like the other Socs, who were so horribly terrible at lying it wasn't even funny. Ludwig seemed to Feliciano like he could take on five people his size and win against them all alone, but Ludwig claimed to not like fighting. That was good, because Feliciano was afraid that if he ever did have to go up against him that he would most likely die. "That's good that you don't like fighting...those Socs are so scary, those that do...uh, if I get any blood on you car, I'm very, very sorry. I wouldn't have meant to.", he apologized in advance.
Ludwig was starting up the ignition but shook off the apology. "If you do, I know how to get it out, so don't worry, I've had to do it before.". In his mind, he recalled a time where he had to pick up a certain albino up from a brawl that had left him bruised, broken and bloody...Ludwig would rather not dwell on the facts or the whole subject in general. "...and yes, Socs are scary.", He muttered under his breath as he grasped onto the steering wheel, beginning to go in reverse the back out of the parking lot. Feliciano had given a small nod to the German whoexplained that he knew how to get blood out. Feliciano was about to ask what had happened to have him know that, but realized he wouldn't want to know, as he was afraid to hear what had happened and Ludwig didn't seem like he wanted to talk about it anyhow. Nevertheless, it was Ludwig's business, so Feliciano didn't even deserve to know.
...
The German helped balance Feliciano as he limped up to Ludwig's door, and after all, the door was unlocked like Gilbert had told him it would be. Ludwig simply opened the door and took Feliciano inside, flipping the light switch and closing the door. They were met with a small foyer with a high ceiling that led into a mostly white and beige color themed living room. Ludwig loved the simplicity of his house, even if it did get boring around there often. In the living room, on the couch, sat two big dogs, a Golden Retriever and a German Shepard, and a small black dog sitting on the rug. All three of the dogs took off towards the door and Ludwig had to fend them away from Feliciano so that they wouldn't hurt him. "I'm sorry about them, they just get excited when they see strangers.". Ludwig had said that a little too late since Feliciano had nearly jumped out of his skin when the dogs bombarded him all at once, and he had let out a surprised yelp, but before Ludwig could ask him if he was hurt or something, which he wasn't, Feliciano had realized that the dogs were actually really cute and weren't scary. He smiled brightly down at them.
"Doggies!", He exclaimed loudly like a five year old, but when he reached down to pet them, he cringed. That wasn't such a good idea, so he decided not to. Ludwig stiffened when Feliciano squealed out, and instantly bit his lip, an odd stiff feeling settling over his face. Having no idea what it was, he watched Feliciano silently as the Italian greeted and smiled at his dogs. The dogs scurried about and wagged their tails wildly. "Ludwig, they're so adorable. What are their names?".
Ludwig answered Feliciano's question briefly, "The Golden Retriever is Aster, the German Shepard is Berlitz, and the little black pup is, well, Blackie. Creative right? My brother named him.", Ludwig patted Aster on the head with a free hand, and when Aster tried to lick him, he moved his hand away. He had something more important to do anyhow. "Uh, come on, Feliciano. You really should sit down." Feliciano nodded and was taken into the living room by Ludwig, who helped him sit down on the couch. Even though now he was sitting, Ludwig did not let the dogs get up on him, not wanting them to hurt him. Feliciano wished he could pet the dogs, but he couldn't reach them without cringing and straining his worn out muscles. Ludwig knew that he couldn't just stand there now, since just standing was not going to get anything done. He told Feliciano that he was just going to go get some aspirins, bandages, and some other stuff to help Feliciano with his scratches and the pain. There was nothing he could possibly do about the bruises, but he knew what to do otherwise.
Feliciano watched as Ludwig left the room, and looked back down at the dogs. Blackie inched a bit closer to him, but then walked away to get beside Aster. He laid down beside him on the rug, but Berlitz came up to the Italian and commenced sniffing him. Feliciano stretched out his arm the slightest for Berlitz to sniff his hand ashe told that was what he was supposed to do before petting dogs. The Shepard sniffed his hand for a few more seconds before moving his nose down a bit and nudged Feliciano's hand to get him to pet him. Feliciano smiled and slowly leaned forward a little to pet Berlitz and scratch behind his ears, cooing lovingly to him. Hearing Ludwig come back down the hallway, Feliciano stopped petting Berlitz and leaned back the way he had been doing, but continued to make eye contact with the dogs. Ludwig returned with the supplies, looking over to the dogs who seemed to be more calm around Feliciano. It was a cute scene to walk into, unless you counted the beaten up Greaser sitting in his living room. Now, if he wasn't beaten up, it would be just a fine picture. Feliciano looked like he fitted in, but Ludwig and he had only met not even an hour ago. But somehow Ludwig felt like he had always knew Feliciano and his smile, like it was something he had always seen. Even though he had just met the boy, he couldn't help but to feel a little...expecting of their encounter.
Ludwig went and stood by the couch, placing the supplies on the coffee table in front of the couch. He took the bottle of aspirins and unscrewed the top, taking out two small white pills from it. He handed the pills as well as the bottle of water to Feliciano, who swallowed the pills as well as a gulp of water. Now, Ludwig started to ready wiping pads and rubbing alcohol to clean the scratches that Feliciano had recieved so that he would not get an infection. Feliciano watched as Ludwig messed with the bottle of alcohol, and when he recognized the bottle, his eyes widened. He knew how much rubbing alcohol hurt when put on cuts or scratches, and remembered almost being punched by Lovino as he tried to help him with his cuts that he had recieved in a very bad fight in which a Soc had pulled a switchblade on him. He had just been glad that Lovino didn't get too badly hurt, or worse, killed. Still, he was totally not prepared for the rubbing alcohol to come anywhere in proximity to him. Feliciano sat the water bottle on the coffee table and nervously pushed himself away from Ludwig, who was holding a damp with alcohol, wiping pad in his hand. "Uh...uh, that stuff hurts, doesn't it?", he asked as an attempt to stall the German.
"It stings, yes,", Ludwig answered Feliciano's question, knowing well he was not wanting to feel anymore pain than he already was. "But the stinging stops not long after, I promise.", Ludwig confirmed to him, carefully taking the Greaser's left arm that had a few scrapes on it and pressed the cloth to one of them, glancing back up to the other to see if he was okay. Feliciano tensed up when Ludwig took his arm, and looked away, closing his eyes, afraid of how bad it was going to hurt. After seeing Lovino's reaction to the stuff, he didn't know if he was going to react the same way or not. Granted, Lovino had worse injuries than Feliciano did at the moment, so of course he wasn't going to be in the same amount of pain, right? Feliciano took a sharp breath as Ludwig pressed the cloth pad against his skin, and the alchohol seeped into his scraped elbow, making Feliciano hiss.
"It stings. It stings, it stings, it stings, it stings, it...", He repeated over and over again rapidly and in a quiet tone, but soon enough, he could no longer feel the burning sensation on his arm. Feliciano had suspected it would last longer, but now his elbow was numb. Hesistantly, Feliciano opened his honey brown eyes and looked over at Ludwig. "I-It doesn't sting...". Ludwig listened to the Italian as he muttered to himself, but then came to the conclusion that his arm had stopped hurting, and it was probably a few seconds after it had stopped. Ludwig said nothing, but continued to clean Feliciano's other cuts, and then moved on to the next arm. After he was done with the arms, he applied bandages, and moved up to look Feliciano in the face as he pressed a fresh pad against his cheek. Ludwig's light blue eyes met with Feliciano's brown eyes, but he looked away as he had a feeling in his gut. Ludwig finally finished cleaning up Feliciano and applying bandages, so he threw away the remaining bloody cloths at the bottom of the trash so no one would see them and suspect something was up, and put away all of the materials he had used to their rightful place before returning to Feliciano.
"Feliciano," He started, "Do you want me to take you home now? It's getting rather late...".
...
Just as the Italian was about to get out of Ludwig's car after he had parked at Feliciano's stop on a dirt road, Ludwig said one final thing to him that day, catching his ears. "H-hey, Feliciano. If you ever need me, just meet me out by the two trees at the back of the school. I'll check there every once in a while to see if you're okay...and I hope you get home safely.".
What? Ludwig was going to actually let him see him again? Feliciano's eyes lit up as he thought about how he would be able to talk to the German again. Of course, Ludwig had to mean for this offer to be for emergencies, but what would a friendly chat hurt every once in a while? "O-Okay!", He said, giving a bright smile to Ludwig as he got out of the car with his backpack light on his shoulder. He looked back at Ludwig. "Thank you so much, Ludwig...see you tomorrow then?" He said as he closed the car door, and started off down the dirt road. "Goodbye!", He called out, waving at Ludwig and started to resume walking. A little bit farther down the road, he went with a limp, but stopped to wave once more at Ludwig who still sat in his car, wanting him to know that he was going to be alright.
...
A few minutes after Ludwig dropped Feliciano off at the road that led him into the neighborhood the Italian lived in, Feliciano had returned home. Rather, he limped the whole way there, but at least he had gotten there. He came up to his back door and stepped up the wooden stairs leading to it, opening the screen door and closing it quietly behind him. He was still facing the door when he was startled by an all too familiar voice asking gruffly, "And where the hell have you been?". Feliciano froze where he was a decided not to turn around.
"Oh, you're up Lovino! Are you feeling any better?", Feliciano asked. His big brother hadn't gone to school the past few days because, one, he was hurt from yet another fight, and two, he had been suspended for the week. Lately, Lovino had been lazily lying around, so Feliciano just inferred that he was still in pain or something. His big brother behind him scoffed, and Feliciano could already tell that his arms were stubbornly crossed. There was no way out of this confrontation.
"No, but that is beside the point. What took you so damn long to get home?", Lovino demanded out of him, before pausing to add, "Look at me when I am talking to you.". Feliciano groaned, finding it absolutely ridiculous about how Lovino acted so parentally to him when he was only two years older than him and didn't deserve the right to act so sternly and above him. But, with nothing else to do, Feliciano held his breath and rotated around to face Lovino slowly. He looked up at his brother who was just as bruised as he was now, and watched Lovino's angered expression change to one that was shocked and concerned. "What happened to you?", He asked, sounding a bit out of breath after seeing Feliciano like that, something he had never seen before, and most likely never wanted to see in his life.
"Uh...", Feliciano tried to think up a lie quickly, better than those he had thought up on the way here. Just tripping wasn't going to cause him to end up like this, so he had to think of something much better and more believable than that bluff. "...we were...playing football outside for gym, and I tripped and other people...fell on me, and, uh-", Feliciano tried his best to sound convincing, but as he was feeling so disappointed in himself for lying to his big brother, so his voice was quivering and not even his most normal tone was being efficient. It was so very obvious that he was not telling the truth, and he was caught up in the lie before he could add any more to it.
"Don't you fucking lie to me, Feliciano!", Lovino shouted now, an enraged expression flooding onto his face. "What the hell happened to you?! Tell me who did this to you!". Lovino was so obviously pissed over, and now his brother's own fists were clinching. Feliciano flinched when he did that, and the light in Lovino's eyes seemed to flash when he saw his little brother do that. Before Lovino could yell at him again, Feliciano shook his head as if to continue to try to convince that he was just fine, and even smiled, but he should've known that even that was not going to help. "No, Feliciano, don't think that's going to change my opinion about this. Why are you patched up?", Lovino inquired, not waiting for an answer. "Whatever, just...if it really was anything, you'd better fucking tell me about it or else I'd just have to be forced to fine out myself.", He growled at his brother as he leaned against the sofa's arm, where he sat. He did not believe his brother one bit, and he had no reason to. Feliciano was such a horrible liar, and both of the Italian boys knew that just fine. Lovino knew that someone had hurt him, and even if Feliciano didn't tell him, he was going to find out. "...was it a Soc? A group of Socs? I swear, Feliciano, you're going to have to learn how to stick up for yourself...".
Feliciano went silent, knowing that now he had to choose his words carefully as he tried to explain this to his brother. "I know but...", He said and then gave a sigh as he finally said, "I was outnumbered. I was walking to the exit door and this one Soc called me out. He was trying to get me to apologize for tripping him, but I hadn't even tripped him. When I didn't apologize, he got closer, and I even raised my fists so it would look like I would fight him and could punch him like you told me to...but then he swung at me, and I jumped out of the way and pushed him. And then...", Feliciano looked away from his brother, whose lips now seemed sown together in a straight, tight line as he listened very closely to ever single one of Feliciano's words. "..he called his friends on me, and you can imagine what happened then. But someone stopped them, and he took me back to his house and cleaned me up before he drove me to the road here. He's really nice, you'd like him. He's-", Feliciano stopped blankly as he realized the mistake he made in bringing up Ludwig. Though he didn't say his name, Lovino would probably figure out about him and the fact that he was a Soc. Feliciano tried to come up with something quick to add, but simply ended up repeating himself. "...he's nice."
Lovino stiffed but didn't show it, only stared expressionless back at his little brother. What the fuck was he saying? Was he making up some lie? He couldn't have been. It sounded far too really and detailed to be a quick lie. Besides that, it was a huge step forward to being convincing than Feliciano's last lie was. Lovino, however, hoped that he was lying about what had happened to him, but from the looks of it, his hope was very slim. Lovino wanted to know who the person who picked him up was, that was what he really wanted to know. "...I think I'm going to ask around to see who the fuck picked you up, as well as those fuckers who beat you up. I'm going to kill every single one of them with my own hands-", before Lovino could continue, footsteps stopped in the doorway from the other room, and he turned to see his grandfather. "I-Oh...", He quieted himself.
Feliciano was just about to burst out at Lovino about how he couldn't go up against any Socs anymore, since he was almost killed the last time he had done so, but the footsteps ceased him from saying anything else as well. His eyes widened and flashed over to where his grandpa stood, a hand running through his curly brown hair and his grandpa's own eyes narrowed with fatigue. "Lovino, what did I tell you about cursing? And Feliciano, where have you be-", Romulus froze as he finally saw the bruises on Feliciano's skin. "...Dear Lord, what happened?", he went over to the younger Italian and examined him, making him take off his book bag in the process. He was trying to figure out just what could have possibly happened to him and how he he previously had other injuries but was all cleaned up now. "What did you do?".
"Uh...", Feliciano began, not knowing at all what to say. He could easily repeat what he had said to Lovino, but he didn't want to go over everything again and accidentally make things worse incase he let something slip, information he hadn't told Lovino.
"...', Lovino didn't know whether or not to tell his grandfather, and he didn't know if Feliciano was seriously hurt anywhere. He didn't know what to to, but he decided to simply say, "He was playing football during gym and got tackled. He is okay. Probably didn't break anything, he's too flexible for that.", He flat out lied using the same lie that he himself hadn't believed only a minute or so before, but what the heck? He couldn't think of anything better. Lovino just hoped that he was just a better liar than Feliciano and that he could convince his grandfather, but that was hardly admissible; his grandfather knew everything, so surely he was capable to sniff out a obvious lie such at this one.
Feliciano looked over at Lovino confusedly when he told their grandfather the same lie that he had said, and the same one that didn't work on Lovino himself. How was it that it sounded more convincing coming from Lovino? Was it just because he gave vague details, unlike Feliciano who tried his best to come up with every single detail that he possibly could? "Yes, that's what happened.", Feliciano confirmed with a nod. "No, I didn't break anything. I only gotten a little dizzy and was taken to the nurse. I'm just fine now though!".
Romulus gave a slightly puzzled look as he peered at his two grandsons; something seemed off and he had a feeling neither one of them was telling the truth, but he had nothing to go off of to support his theory. Still, all of this convincing the two boys were trying to do still never got to explain why Feliciano was so very late coming home, since he was supposed to come home at 3:00 pm, but came home around 5:30 pm. That was an unsettling difference of time, and it worried Romulus greatly. Something familiar to that was that one time his youngest grandson didn't come home when he was supposed to, and he didn't even come home around five. In fact, he didn't even come home at all. But Romulus did not like the recall that, so he shook the thoughts away and told Feliciano simply, "You need to be more careful.", and patted him on the shoulder.
Feliciano nodded and took a step back before turning to the hallway to go to his room. "Okay nonno, I promise I will. I'll just...put my books up now.". With that he left the room, and sat down on his bed, tossing his book bag to the floor. He heaved a small sigh. That was so close, and Feliciano did not like that.
In the living room, Lovino sat on the couch rather awkwardly, but figured that his grandfather had bought the lie, so he relaxed a bit, letting his muscles relieve themselves. He had his muscles tightened, afraid that his grandfather was going to force him to tell the truth. The Italian noticed his grandfather was still in the living room with him, and he avoided looking up at him, not wanting to see curious as if he was looking to try to find a reaction coming from him. "...Lovino,", His grandfather said suddenly, walking over to the couch where Lovino sat, and sat down beside him, looking into his eyes with sympathy. "I know that you get into...arguments easily, and that they tend to get violent, but you don't have to try to beat the brains in of ever Soc you see. Your pride is not worth nearly getting killed, you won't be thought any less of if you stop yourself from getting into a fight.", Romulus tried to say, then stopped himself for a few moments, then added, "Unless they threaten to hurt you or Feliciano, then you can show them who is boss. Other than that, try not to outnumber yourself because you don't need to end up how you were last time, and...", His dark brown eyes fogged with grey. "...I don't want to loose you two as well.".
"...yes, Grandpa.", Lovino replied, knowing all too well that he couldn't have fooled his grandfather, but as for his last sentence, the eldest Italian brother could understand it completely. Lovino didn't want to fight, he didn't really favor it all too much, but he was hunting out a group of Socs. He just had to find them, and...end them. And he was completely serious about that. He couldn't let them live. Not after what they did to his little brother, his youngest brother, that is. Not after what they did to his family. It wasn't fair that they should live, it just really wasn't. They sickened Lovino. But to think that maybe they were coming about Feliciano too...no, he couldn't think about that. Feliciano was the only reason he fought now. He had to protect him. Lovino cared less about himself, but Feliciano could not get hurt ever again. Lovino would not have that at all. It was unacceptable."...I just have to protect Feliciano. That's all.".
"I know, Lovino, I know.", Romulus said as he placed a hand on Lovino's shoulder. "You're a good brother, and I hope you will always remember that. You want to protect Feliciano, and Feliciano wants to protect you as well. You both have different ways of going about that, though. You see violence as the answer, and Feliciano sees standing down as the answer. Maybe neither of you are right, but I know that neither of us want him or you to get hurt. Now, what happened to him?".