Antonio and Lovino still hadn't received a call from the hospital. The doctor said they will call them, but it had already been three days.
Antonio was miserable. Besides being worried sick about Feliciano, Lovino had locked himself up in his room for the past two days.
''Lovi, please. At least come and eat something.'' he said, knocking on the door of Lovino's room.
''Go away.'' A muffled voice replied from behind the door. He obviously wanted to be alone. Antonio didn't have the heart to leave Lovino without food.
''Fine, I'll go. I'll leave a plate of pasta outside the door.'' He said and walked off somewhere.

Lovino lied on his bed, alone, thightly holding a pillow. He had been crying and he wanted to cry more, but any tears weren't coming out anymore.
He sighed.
What the hell? Those piece of shit doctors don't even know what was wrong with him, he thought to himself.
They didn't. Three days earlier the doctor that was mainly taking care of him had sent Toni and Lovino home, and promised to call if something was up, or they had found out what it was.
But it has already been three days! Surely they would let us know what's going on?
Lovino's stomach grumbled. He was hungry, he had been skipping all the meals to not have to leave his room, and it was starting to take it's toll.
Dammit! he cursed in his mind. Then he remembered that the Tomato bastard had said something about leaving pasta behind his door.
He groaned and unwillingly got out of bed, his head aching. He hadn't even bothered to get out of his fucking pajamas anymore. On his way to the door he happened to look in the mirror.
He looked like shit.
He looked like he had woken up from the dead or something. He looked tired, with dark, black circles under his red eyes. His skin was pale; he hadn't been going out or eaten, or done anything at all. Besides his hair was dirty and sticking out everywhere.
He didn't give a care in the world (but sighed) and walked to the door. He unlocked it, and stuck his head out to see if Antonio was anywhere to be seen.
He wasn't, so Lovino got out of his dark lonely room and took the specially delicious looking pasta plate to his hands. He was about to turn back to his room, when he heard a voice. Antonio's voice. They lived together with Feliciano and Antonio, so it couldn't be anyone from the house. Either they had a visitor, or he was talking on-
''The phone!'' Lovino whispered to himself in realisation. Maybe if he snuck downstairs really quietly, Antonio wouldn't notice him, and he could secretly listen how he was talking on the phone with someone. Lovino was curious, so it was worth a try. He could be talking to the doctor from the hospital!
With these thoughts, he started sneaking down quietly as a mouse. With each step he could make the words out more clearly.
''I have to agree...''
Step.
''And they said they didn't know what it is...''
Step.
Lovino was holding his breath. He was at the top of the staircase, having a small break to listen more carefully.
''If it could've been somebody else... I mean anyone would be better than Feli, don't you think?''
Lovino took a deep breath. Step.
''You know what? You're right.''
Step.
''It would've been better if it would have been him.''
Lovino's heart skipped a beat.
Him? Who?
''What? Oh, he's upstairs, sulking. I don't know what's up but he's being a bit selfish, concidering his brother is in the hospital and all...''
Lovino stopped at the bottom of the stairs. He could now see the Antonio's back from the kitchen.
A tear fell on his face. He could feel his heart shatter in a million sharp pieces.
Then, as he was about to turn around and run in his room, the stairs under him creaked. The stairs creaked just enough to catch the attention of Antonio in the kitchen. He turned around (still holding the phone) and his jaw dropped when he saw Lovino. Lovino standing there with an expression full of pure pain, and... were those tears in his face?
He stared at the Italian for a brief second.
Lovino turned around and walked upstairs, knowing that the spaniard wouldn't follow him.