Lovino sank down to the floor; his quiet whimpers interjected with rapid Italian swear words. His hand went up to his forehead and came back covered in blood.
"Fucking fantastic," he snarled, pushing himself up against the wall. What was even more so was how he'd managed to go about ripping a hole in his face- what sort of idiot managed to take out a chunk of their forehead by walking into the metal edge of an open kitchen cupboard. His brother or any one of the other stupid nations, not Lovino. Cursing his height, the idiot that left the door cupboard door open, and whichever bastard made hinges, Lovino struggled to pull himself up to his feet, trying to avoid bloodying everything with his hand.
To his disgust, the blood from his forehead started trailing into his eyes, contaminating his eye brows as it did so. It was too much; angry tears started welling up in Lovino's eyes the way they easily did.
"Not my day," he said, tone a combination of his usual rage and quiet dejection. There wasn't a mirror in the kitchen and he had absolutely no idea where the first aid kit was stored. He'd call his brother, but the bastard wouldn't be any use and would just burst into tears and in any case he'd probably bring the damn potato bastard with him. There was no way he was calling Antonio, or anyone else for that matter.
Trying to navigate the kitchen when he had his eyes closed to stop blood going into them was as difficult as he'd expected. He crashed into a table in the centre of the room and winded himself, then stubbed his toe as he tried to get past it. Eventually he managed to reach a roll of kitchen towel and used it to get rid of the blood on his eyelids, and then got another wad and pressing it against the cut of his forehead. Why did this sort of wound always bleed so much?
The kitchen door opened and Lovino promptly turned round, knowing he probably looked a complete mess and not trusting whatever nation had just come in not to laugh at him.
"Hello." The slightly bemused voice of Arthur Kirkland met his ears and he felt momentary relief it wasn't one the nations more likely to tease the hell out of him- Gilbert, more specifically. Not that Arthur couldn't be a vicious bastard when he felt like it…
"What are you doing in here?" Lovino snapped in response.
"The same thing you are, presumably. This building's self-catering between meetings, and I didn't get anything to drink earlier." The sound of water cascading from a tap into a metal kettle came from behind Lovino.
Unable to think of a proper retort to that Lovino remained silent as he tried to pull off more kitchen roll one-handed. For a few minutes there was relative quiet as Arthur's water boiled. After a while, Romano heard him pour the water into a cup and speak again.
"So what's the matter with you? You've been staring at that wall since I came in."
"None of your business," was the sharp reply and in the resulting pause he stifled the urge to turn around and see what Arthur was doing.
"Are you bleeding?"
Lovino let out a yelp of fright as Arthur appeared about two inches from the side of his face, scrutinising the red-stained paper he was holding to his forehead. He sprang back, cursing.
"Sorry," Arthur said absently, moving after him, eyes still on the hand holding up the kitchen roll. "What did you do?"
"Nothing, I'm fine," Lovino insisted. "Get lost."
Arthur completely ignored him, one pale hand going up to Lovino's tanned wrist and pulling it back, exposing the cut.
He winced. "That looks nasty."
"It hurts."
"I'm not surprised. How did you do it?"
Lovino scowled at him, but quickly relaxed his face again as his forehead scrunching up caused a burst of pain and renewed blood. He tugged his hand out of Arthur's grip and put the paper back against his head.
"Now will you get lost?" he complained as Arthur turned round. Arthur didn't respond this time either, tearing off some more kitchen paper and folding it into a square.
"Here," he offered and Lovino gave him a suspicious look before trading the fresh paper with the blood soaked first. Taking it delicately between two fingers, Arthur dropped it into the bin beneath the sink before looking back at Lovino who met his faintly concerned expression with a glare.
Arthur returned the expression with a stern look that made Lovino feel like a misbehaving child.
"Do you want me to just leave you covered in blood with a cut on your face, or do you want my help?"
Lovino looked away and Arthur shrugged. "Thought so."
Rolling his eyes, Lovino pulled the tissue away from his head to inspect it; it already had a sizeable stain. He hastily pressed it back against his head. Arthur open a cupboard at random, closed it, moved on to the next one and then made a victorious noise.
"Got it," he said, pulling a black plastic box marked 'first aid' from one of the shelves within. He opened it up and an array of plasters, bandages, creams and other medical supplies fell everywhere. Arthur started poking through it, giving Romano a quick look as he did so.
"Still hurting?"
"Not really," Lovino replied. It wasn't a total lie- it felt better than it did.
Arthur didn't look convinced but didn't comment, pulling the biggest plaster from the mess and setting it aside. The thing looked as though it would cover Lovino's whole forehead and he wondered how big the cut actually was.
"What are you doing?" he asked, watching Arthur run water of a towel he'd taken from a rail on the wall.
"Your face is covered in congealing blood, Romano," Arthur said patiently, moving towards him with a corner of the wet fabric raised, Lovino moving back in sync.
"Say still or I'll end up jabbing you in the eye," Arthur said in a tone that brooked no argument.
Lovino tried to stay still, but still ended up flinching as Arthur started efficiently wiping the blood away.
"Keep your hand where it is, or you'll get blood everywhere again- I don't think it's clotted properly yet," Arthur said when he'd finished. Lovino, feeling wonderfully clean, obediently kept the kitchen roll still while Arthur dropped the bloody towel in the sync, coming back with the plaster.
"Okay, you can move it," Arthur said, peeling the back of the plaster off. Lovino moved the paper away, giving it a grossed look and while he was distracted Arthur pressed the plaster against his head. Lovino batted his hands away and carefully pushed it more firmly against his head.
"Better?" Arthur said, eyes meeting Lovino's for the first time since he'd asked if Lovino would let him help.
"Yes," Lovino said grudgingly, fingers running over the smooth material of the plaster.
"Don't I get a thank you?" Arthur said with an innocence belied by his smirk.
"No," Lovino replied, half-tempted to throw the bloody kitchen roll at him, but decided on putting it in the bin instead it.
Arthur smiled slightly, lifting his shoulders in a badly done to sort of way before turning to pick up the tea that Lovino had forgotten about.
"Make sure you don't forget to wash your hands," Arthur reminded him as he moved towards the door. "And close the cupboard door so nobody else walks into it," he added, grinning at Lovino's expression.
The door closed behind him and Lovino pulled a face at it. "How did he know?" he complained to himself, moving to rinse his hands.
He turned off the tap and then reached up to close the cupboard. One hand went back to the plaster on his forehead and he gave the door another glance. Reluctantly and without really knowing why, he muttered his belated thanks, and then hastily left the kitchen.
