AN: Send reviews if you find the time! It really helps me feel motivated to write.
Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia
The walk home was long and tiring. The sun beat down on Lovino as if it had motive to kill him.
He took long strides and walked at as fast a pace as he could without needing to sit and catch his breath. With each step he took, he wished more and more that he had gone to the nurse's office instead. An ice pack and a water bottle couldn't have hurt.
He finally made it to his apartment's front door, noting that Antonio was on his porch, tuning a guitar. The Italian was less than impressed that the Spaniard was apparently musically talented. And frankly, he had different things to be focused on now. Like the damn injury to his face.
"Hot Topic wearing bastard..." he muttered, un-zipping his bag and reaching to pull out his house key.
But, as Lovino's luck would have it, he couldn't find the key. He rifled through his bag for what felt like five minutes, feeling Antonio's gaze on his back the entire time. Today was going fucking fantastic.
Math book, lead pencils, notebooks, ipod, eraser, another goddamn pencil.
No key.
"Oh my fucking God, you stupid bastard." Lovi turned and banged his head against the front door, further injuring himself. He gave a weak scream, holding his head in his hands. "Why didn't I just fucking call for a ride oh my God..."
Lovino's head hurt, his heart hurt, the stress of school was fucking killing him. He couldn't do this-he couldn't take it. He just wanted a damn glass of water and a band-aid but apparently even that was too much to ask for.
He felt like sobbing, breaking down right there. Laying on his porch and not moving ever again. He crouched low to the ground and curled in on himself, trying to stop the rush of tears before they could escape.
Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck...
His shoulders shook and a rush of light headed-ness hit him like a brick to the face. He wavered, leaning heavily on his front door, expecting to slide down it and into a sitting position-but suddenly Antonio was there, holding him close to his chest, rocking him, pushing his hair out of his face, wiping away tears that Lovino hadn't know he'd let slip.
"Its okay, Lovi. Its okay. I've got you. Its alright."
It would have taken effort to push Antonio away. Lovino was out of effort. And he couldn't remember why he had pushed him away in the first place. So he clung to the older man until his head stopped spinning. Until his breathing evened out. Until he could hear more than just his own heartbeat in his ears.