As he kept running, he soon tripped over a tree root. Why the neighborhood never took care of hazards? He never knew.
Shakily standing up, he dusted himself off. His knee was skinned, and he could see the red liquid staining his jeans crimson.
The Italian sighed, and continued his limp home. Hopefully, Lovino wasn't informed he left early so he wouldn't worry. Their parents were never home and his grandpa died when he was young. They were raised by Roderich's parents, along with a young boy named Louis.
Louis moved away and never came back, so Feli decided to move on from that. (He was never really over it)
When he finally made it home, Feliciano sighed in relief. He hadn't been stopped by anyone else.
However, he had to make dinner. Oh, joy.
"I think I'll wait until about 2:30 to make spaghetti." He muttered, totally throwing his brother's idea about cake for dinner out of the window.
Walking inside and to the living room, he soon passed out on the couch.
He didn't care that his knee was a bloody mess, or that he would stain the couch crimson red.
He didn't even care if Lovino came home early from school and started screaming at him.
All he wanted to do was sleep.