Romano let out a heavy sigh, staring at the table.

His phone sat just above his hand, dauntingly. Mere moments ago he had gotten a text from a blocked number.

Seven days left.

Seven days left, it had said. He felt sick that they where actually counting down, as if Romano wasn't keeping track of how much time he had left. He heard Ludwig in the other room, on the phone with someone. He had said it was help. But Romano didn't exactly want anyone else to be involved. Antonio and Feliciano had quite literally been forced into the situation already.

He wound his hand around his cup, bringing the rim to his lips. It was wine. What he would give to be wasted and forget it all, to have that image of Antonio and Feli wiped from his mind... but then again if he forgot, he couldn't save them. And he wanted to save them.

"What's taking so long, bastardo!?" Romano called. He smirked or himself as Ludwig rolled his eyes. Cussing felt good. Cussing helped take stress off, at least a little bit.

After a long pause, Ludwig said farewell and hung up, placing the landline phone on its hook gently.

"Tino is coming to help us. He's had more experience vith zhing like zhis." Ludwig stated.

"Who's Tino?" Romano asked, feeling his nose scrunch as the wine suddenly became sour.

"Finland."

"Oh..."

Romano twisted in his seat, staring at Ludwig sternly.

"And you're sure he can help?"

Ludwig nodded. "He was a sniper. He knows how to track numbers. And he knows how to get people out of tough situations."

Romano sipped his wine once more before setting it aside on the table, beside his phone. Crossing his arms against the table, he continued to stare at the grains in the wood. He felt the table shift as Ludwig sat across from him.

He sighed.

"Do you vant to eat?" Ludwig asked.

"No."

"Maybe catch somezhing?"

"No."

"Romano... You're stressed. I can tell, ya?" Ludwig started.

"I know I'm stressed dammit!" Romano shouted, slamming his fists down on the table with a loud thud. "I just don't need to be doing anything else than helping them!"

Ludwig stared at him, taking a deep breath as if to remain calm. "Romano, I know. Getting stressed vill not help us."

Romano let out a sigh. "Fine." He muttered grumpily.

As if on cue, his phone buzzed. He snatched it up as the screen lit up, beginning to stalk off towards the kitchen. But just as he made it to the doorway, he froze. The phone slipped from his hands.

"Romano?" Ludwig looked up.

Romano slowly picked up the phone, before marching to the table and tossing it in front of Ludwig. Sitting down across from him, his face in his hands, he spoke.

"I... Oh god..."

On the screen was an image.

The quality was horrible, the light bright on the dull, dusty environment it had been taken.

Feliciano as sprawled on his side, blindfolded with a dirty cloth. The side of his face was plastered with blood, his short auburn bangs sticking to it. His knees where scraped up, and his sweater was torn. Antonio was on his back, his mouth open in what appeared to be a cry of pain. Dirt plastered his face and arms, and there was a foot on his chest. From who, he didn't know. The white of the flash obscured most of the detail.

Ludwig pushed the phone away, staring at Romano.

"Mein gott..."

Romano stood. He could feel nausea eating away at his core. He made his way to the bathroom. He could feel it rising up in his throat.

He was going to be sick.