"Feliciano. Wake up." Lovino shook his younger brother's shoulder.

The little Italian gave a sleepy whine, "Too asleep."

"You can't sleep forever, idiot." He shook Feliciano more persistently. "You need to get up."

"Fine. I'm up," Feliciano grumbled as he sat up and yawned, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"How are you feeling?"

His brother smiled brightly. "Much, much better!"

"I suppose I should make you breakfast, shouldn't I?"

The younger boy nodded quickly and smiled. "Please!" Feliciano lifted his arms to his brother and was quickly awarded by being picked up.

"You need to start walking on your own," Lovino grumbled as he carried him to the kitchen.

"Don't you remember your promise, fratello," Feliciano sang, nuzzling his nose against Lovino's cheek.

He let out an exasperated sigh and dumped him into a chair. "I know, I know."

"What promise?"

Both brothers looked startled by Arthur's voice, having completely forgotten about him. They were so used to living with just each other, that seeing the presence of another person was strange and unfamiliar to them. It had just been them alone for too long.

"Lovino promised to still carry me even when I'm better," Feliciano said cheerfully.

"A promise I already regret making," Lovino mumbled under his brother. He turned away from them and searched through Arthur's pantry.

"Aw, don't be like that," his little brother said with a pouted.

As Arthur watched Lovino start a small fire in the old cookstove he only used to make tea, his gaze caught on the strange, wild curl that stuck out from the rest of his hair. He watched it bob and bounce with every one of his movements. And when he glanced at Feliciano, he noticed that he also had a strange curl, only its placement differed from his brother's curl. So strange. It must run in the family. Arthur's stomach rumbled silently when sweet smells floated in the air from the pot Lovino stirred with a wooden spoon. Damn, that cooking smells too good.

"How do you know how to cook so well?"

"Veh, fratellone and I use to work at an inn, he would helped the cook while I cleaned rooms," Feliciano answered for his brother. "That was one of our very first jobs."

"It was one of the better ones too," Lovino commented quietly.

"What happened?"

"The building burnt down. It was quite the tragedy," Lovino said without much feeling.

"It was! The owners almost died in the fire, and even though they lived, they still lost everything!" The younger brother looked close to tears over the misfortune.

"I bet they're fine now. That big lion-man could handle anything." Lovino patted Feliciano's head to sooth him. "They probably have that place re-built and running just fine by now."

"But I really hope Tino and Berwald are oaky," the younger sighed, then suddenly smiled again. "You're right! We should go see them."

"Where do they live?" Arthur asked, finally finding a place to speak.

"Two towns over. But it's been years since we saw them, no point in going now," Lovino sad as he set a bowl of hot porridge in front of his brother, who started eating immediately.

Arthur felt his stomach rumbled again, and he remembered that he had skipped breakfast when he woke up again. He tried to hide the noise by clearing his throat and asking, "Why didn't you stay over there?"

Sadly, the sound didn't go unnoticed by Lovino. "If you're hungry, then tell me, dammit," he said gruffly. "And it wouldn't have been possible to stay. There was no other places to work or live, so we came back here."

"Back?"

"Si, this is our hometown," Feliciano answered.

He opened his mouth to ask another question, but a bowl of delicious smelling, mouth-watering porridge was shoved in his face and did a wonderful job of shutting him up. But before he took a bite, he stared at Lovino and asked, "Aren't you going to eat, Lovino?"

"Oh, yeah." Lovino looked surprised, before turning and preparing himself a bowl, then taking his seat.

"This is good, fratellone," Feliciano commented, pausing from his meal to smile happily at his brother.

"Hn." Lovino began eating silently.

Arthur watched both brothers eat their food, like it would run away from them, fast and hungrily. He knew they probably hadn't had a steady supply of food since Feliciano fell ill, leaving Lovino to carry the burden of feeding two people. "You don't have to eat so fast. There will always be food here."

"Ah, you're right. Force of habit," Feliciano said with a sheepish smile, glancing back at his now empty bowl.

Wordlessly, Lovino gathered his bowl and filled it again, before setting it back in front of Feliciano.

"Veh, grazie!"

He watched this strange transaction. Feliciano hadn't said he was still hungry, but Lovino just seemed to know. Is this how true brothers act? He wouldn't know; all his brothers had hated his guts since he was born.

Lovino's voice broke through his thoughts before he could think too much of his brothers. "Are you going to eat, bastard?"

"Oh, sorry, I got lost in my thoughts." He quickly began eating the lightly sweetened meal.

"No shit."

"Don't be rude, fratellone."

"Cheh, whatever." Lovino stalked out of the kitchen, grumbling insults all the way.

As soon as Lovino left the room, Feliciano broke down into a harsh fit of coughing. When he finished, he sighed at his brother's behavior, and said in a hoarse voice, "Don't mind him. I swear, he's nice on the inside."

Arthur quickly got up and took down a small container and warmed the kettle on the stove. "I don't doubt it. From the way he treats you with so much love, I can see he's not all bad," he said, smiling kindly at the younger boy and set a cup of tea in front of him.

"I'm glad you say that. Sometimes, I'm sure he hates me." Even though he looked so sorrowful, Feliciano never stopped smiling at Arthur. He brought the cup to his lips and sipped it slowly, letting out a relieved breath when the hot liquid soothed his ragged throat.

"I wouldn't say he hates you at all! He dotes on you like no brother I've ever seen. Of course, it's in his own rough and gruff way, but he adores you." He leaned over and patted Feliciano's arm softly, hoping the tea would calm the boy.

Feliciano looked up at him thoughtfully, and asked, "How do you know...?"

"Anyone who watched you two would have to be blind and deaf not to be able to see the brotherly love."

The bright Italian nearly blinded him with a smile. "Grazie! You're nice, and I like you."

"Er - Well, I like you too," he said awkwardly. "And I would like your brother also, if he would let me."

"Don't worry! He'll warm up to you eventually," Feliciano assured him. "He just doesn't trust strangers, or anyone, for that matter."

"Has he always been like that?"

"Yes and no. When we were younger, he didn't curse or call people names, but he never really trusted people," Feliciano answered softly. "Not me, and especially not Grandpa."

"Why? Did something happen to him?"

The Italian just shrugged. "I can't...remember exactly. But when I was younger, I wanted to help set the table. Lovino told me to let him do it, but I was too stubborn. He told me to be careful, but I got too many plates as once and lost my balance... He broke my fall, but all the plates broke. Grandpa came in and took me to my room, he wasn't mad at me. I followed him when he went back to Lovino. Grandpa was so mad at him for letting me fall. Lovino also got mad, and told Grandpa he hated him and me... He cried so much that day, and I did nothing for him." Tears slowly made their way down the boy's face. "I believe that was the day Lovino stopped loving himself and began to hate... I haven't seen him cry since that day so long ago."

So that explains the Lovino's interest in the plate... Arthur stared at the teary boy, feeling guilty for bringing up a painful subject. "I'm sorry for asking."

"Ah, it's alright," Feliciano said, smiling cheerlessly. "You're trying to figure us out, what happened to put us where we are now, yes?"

"Correct," he said slowly. Maybe Feliciano wasn't as much as an oblivious boy as he thought, or maybe he was just becoming too transparent.

"There's not much to tell you, really. Our parents both died when were young, and we lived with our grandfather. But when I was eleven, someone k-killed him..." The younger boy stopped and took a deep breath, his lips trembling to keep his voice steady. "Grandpa's closest friend told us that the person who...took our grandfather, might come for us and that we should run..."

"And that's how you got here," he stated unhappily. He couldn't help but pity the two brothers. Arthur set a comforting hand on Feliciano's shoulder, not letting it linger longer than necessary.

"Please, don't look at me like that, sir." Feliciano smiled at him so mournfully, it nearly broke his heart. "That happened more than six years ago, we've grown so much since then. Your pity should be saved for the less fortunate."

He cleared his throat, looking away from the boy's honest, sweet eyes. "Sorry."

"And I should warn you, if you ever look at fratello like that, he'll punch you." Feliciano smile cheerfully, but his voice held no mirth.

"I have no doubt about that. Speaking of Lovino, what does he like?" Arthur tried, but failed to keep his cheeks from turning red.

"Like?" Feliciano blinked at him, oblivious to Arthur's embarrassment. "Wouldn't it be better to ask him instead of me?"

"Do you honestly think he'd answer me?" Arthur sighed at the brunet's on-and-off airheadedness.

Feliciano laughed. "I guess you're right. But why are you asking such a strange question?"

"Well... I am getting you both welcome gifts and I have no bloody clue what I could get him," he mumbled, his cheeks burning.

"Oh! That's so nice of you!" Feliciano rubbed his chin thoughtfully, and said, "Hm... He likes food a lot, especially tomatoes and sweets, and pretty girls."

Arthur frowned. None of that was very helpful in his gift search. "Anything else? What does he like to do?"

"Um... When we were still living with Grandpa, Lovino really loved music. I had the music teacher, but he had the talent." A dreamy look came over Feliciano's face. "He can make anyone feel happy or sad just by playing."

Now they were getting somewhere. Instruments weren't cheap, but money didn't matter to him. "What did he play?"

"He's best at piano and guitar, but he can also play the violin." The Italian giggled.

"What's funny?" Arthur noted the instruments and stored the info in the back of his mind. Wasn't there a piano in the back room? If not, he believed there was a violin in the attic from his childhood.

"I was just remember the look on my tutor's face when Lovino marched up, sat on the bench, and started playing piano like he had done it his whole life." Feliciano laughed again. "Signor Edelstein practically begged my grandfather in let him teach Lovi, even though, he knew Lovino would be a difficult student."

"Was he not already being taught with you?" Arthur frowned.

The boy shook his head. "For some reason, Grandpa never had Lovino learn the things I did, expect the boring stuff, like mathematics. He was almost upset when both Signor Edelstein and I asked for Lovino to join our lessons. I think it was because it interfered with something Lovino was doing."

His frown deepened. Most families he knew that had more than one male child had group lessons, rather than teach each one alone. "Then what was Lovino learning?"

"I don't really know." Feliciano frowned to himself as he tried to remember. "I think...I know he learned swordplay. But other than that, I can't remember."

"Hm, did you learn that too?" Arthur asked, his eyebrows scrunched together when he frowned.

"Nope." Feliciano smiled. "But that's alright, I don't like to fight, anyway."

The Brit only nodded, shaking off the feeling of discontent hanging over him. "Thank you for helping with the gift. I'm sure I'll be able to find something for him."

"Veh, I should thank you. Fratello hasn't been able to play in years, I know he misses it. He was always happiest playing from his heart." Feliciano took his hand and kissed his knuckles, much to his embarrassment, and pulled back to dazzle him with a smile. "And if you can't give him music, he also likes books and flowers. Although, he'll probably insult you if you give him any of those."

'I knew he liked to read. Stubborn Italian,' he thought triumphantly. "Alright. I'll keep that in mind."

Feliciano nodded, smiling sweetly at the Brit. "You're really kind."

Arthur blushed, unable to remember the last time someone called him kind, or thanked him for something, other than doing his job. "Uh... Thank you?"

The boy let out a good-natured laugh. "You are also a strange man. Most people would not even bother with outcasts like us."

He rubbed the back of his neck, still having no clue why he helped them. Charity was never part of his personality. "Yes, I suppose I am a bit odd for doing that. But you're also strange for being able to speak English. Even the wealthier families don't have their children learn much more than Latin, or perhaps French."

"Grandpa made sure we learned a lot of stuff," Feliciano said. "We learned about agriculture and government, other boring stuff. I liked my art time the best."

"That's interesting. I've never heard of a family taking such a broad interest in their heir's education. Most of the time, they focus on the core subjects. Or whatever will help the heir to succeed in the family business." He stared at the table, turning this information over in his head. His own education had mostly focused on literature and the study of language. Yes, he had had a class for mathematics and such, but it was mostly the basics. Seamus was the one into all that number shite he could never understand, not that he wanted to.

"Really? Well, the I guess Grandpa kind of did that. Most of the time, I painted and drew. Maybe he trained Lovino to take over his work." Feliciano put his tongue in his cheek as he thought back.

"What did Lovino spend most of his time doing?"

"I don't know." The younger boy frowned, his brows raised in distress. "I don't really remember what Lovino learned either. Other than having a music lesson with me and eat dinner, we didn't see each other much during the day."

He patted Feliciano's shoulder. "That's alright. Brothers don't have to stay together all the time."

Feliciano still didn't stop frowning. "But I don't know! Lovino never talked about it at all! I must have asked at least once, though..."

"You did."

The sound of that voice made them both freeze, not only because of whose voice it was, but the cold, impersonal tone chilled them to the bone. From the look on Feliciano's face, he could tell that they were not in a good situation. Lovino was mad.

"Are you not going to say anything? I don't really like to be talked about as soon as I leave a room." Lovino's voice grew even colder the more he spoke. "But, now that I'm here, continue. I believe you were talking about what I did in my spare time when I was younger, si?"

No one said anything. Feliciano too scared to speak, and Arthur too busy watching Lovino to think of something to say. Without another word, Lovino turned and walked out, slamming doors as he left.

"Oh no," Feliciano finally said.

...oOo...

As soon as he stormed far enough from the house, he let out a frustrated yell. Did he really have to act - no, overreact so badly? He was so confused with himself that he could hardly bare to think. When he heard Feliciano trying to remember the past, he just grew so angry. It wasn't even Feliciano he was mad at, or even Arthur; he was furious with someone who wasn't alive anymore!

"Are you happy, old man?" He screamed at the sky, glaring through watery eyes at the pleasant blue. "Answer me, you coward! I hate you! Both of you! You and God always screw me over! What did I do wrong? Here I am still trying to be good, still trying to please you! I'm doing as you asked, taking care of my brother! Hell, I would have taken care of him whether you told me to or not! But that's not good enough for you, right? I'm still not good enough for you! It's not my fault he's sick! It's not my fault... It's not my fault."

Lovino collapsed face down on the grass, taking huge gulps of air. No use yelling at empty air, no one was listening.

His throat stung from his rant and his eyes burned from tears he refused to shed. He wasn't going to cry. He hadn't cried when Grandpa died, or when he didn't know if he and Feliciano would live to see morning. And for all the times, he got beaten for stealing and fighting for food, not a single tear fell. So many long years and not a single fucking tear. Why?

Big boys don't cry.

The irony of everything suddenly hit him, and he let out a cheerless laugh. All those years ago when he had declared his hate for his grandfather, like moments ago, he had ran outside, fell into the grass, and cried. That had been the last time he cried, sobbed, and screamed. At the young age of seven, he cried all the tears he ever wanted to in his life. And after that, he simply stopped crying. Now, here he was, in the grass like that horrible day, yet not a single tear was falling. Hilarious.

"Are you oaky?" A wary voice asked softly.

He looked up to see Arthur kneeling in front of him, his bright green eyes shinning so convincingly with concern. It made him sick.

"Lovino. Answer me."

Was he oaky? He didn't know. Everything about him felt numb.

"Lovino?"

"I don't know." Was that his voice? It came from his mouth, so it must be.

The concern in Arthur's eyes only grew. Oh, how he wished he believed this man could actually care about him. Then again, why couldn't Arthur care about him? He didn't remember the reason why it seemed so impossible for someone to like him to be loved.

"Lovino? Are you there? What's wrong with you?"

Good question. What was wrong with him? He stared at the blond man in front of him. "I don't know."

Arthur stood up, unnerved by the dull, detached stare. "Let's go back inside," the blond said, and extended his hand to him.

He stared at the hand. When was the last time someone offered him a hand? Better question, when was the last time he took the hand offered? He didn't know or care. He was tired and didn't know if he could get up on his own anymore.

Just when Arthur was about to pull his hand back, another shot up and grasped it tightly. Green eyes met hazel, and Arthur was shocked to find tears rolling silently down Lovino's face.

He didn't realize he was crying until Arthur drew him into a close embrace. Even then, he touched his wet cheeks in amazement. He had forgotten how good crying could feel, and with nothing holding his tears back, they flowed without hesitation. Lovino didn't care anymore. He buried his face into Arthur's shoulder and sobbed, clinging to the other with all his might.

Arthur didn't know what broke the crying man in his arms, but seeing this toughened boy so vulnerable made something in him ache. Lovino shouldn't have to endure this crushing weight alone, putting on a hard shell just to protect both him and his brother. He wanted to change that - he would change that.

They stayed like that a long time, even after Lovino's sobs had quieted into hiccups. Arthur continued to hold him tightly, gently rubbing circles on his back, and Lovino didn't complain nor stop the comforting action. He was tired. It wasn't until Arthur spoke, did he realize how much time had passed.

"We should go inside."

He slowly stepped away, breaking contact with the other man. "You go inside. Tell Feliciano I'm fine, and not mad at him. Feed him the leftover pasta in the icebox and get him up to bed. I'll be in later."

Thankfully, Arthur didn't question him, and just nodded, before walking back to the house without a word.


Translation:

Signor (Italian)= Mister

It was strange writing this chapter. I don't know why, but it was. Maybe Lovino was out of character. Then again, maybe not. Well, I hope it wasn't too sad for my readers. I don't mean to make anyone cry (Other than the characters). Thank you for reading and reviewing.

-Windy