Lovino stretched his arms behind his back, pulling at the pinched muscles in his shoulders before slumping forward, lowering his elbows back on the table. After making it back to the studio he had felt rejuvenated, fueled by the nourishment and rest he had finally received, and had decided to work through the night to make-up for time lost. The evening had been productive, he had completed a new silkscreen, applied a thick coat of tar-like hardground to a zinc plate, and had begun to grain a litho stone before the weak autumn sun started to filter through flat-bottomed purple clouds. But now, as he sat carving thin lines into his etching plate, he felt the work of the night catching up with him. His eyes and neck burned from lack of sleep, and his limbs vibrated from overuse.

Lovino rolled his shoulders one more time before sighing and pushing his chair from the table, rising wearily to his feet and clomping heavy-footed to the adjoining room. He stole a glance at the clock as soon as it was in view. '7:30,' he registered mentally, his tired mind having trouble piecing together his intentions. He wandered back to his work table, nodding awkwardly when he met eyes with a member of the cleaning crew. 'I have time to catch a couple hours of sleep before classes start," he determined, vaguely wondering if two hours of sleep after staying up all night could be classified as a nap.

Not that he cared to keep his side of the promise with Antonio, he reprimanded as he gathered his loose items, depositing them carelessly into his messy flat file. He looked around the room with his finger on the light switch, trying to remember if he had forgotten anything, before spotting his laundry basket of folded clothes resting forgotten under the table. He turned off the light anyway and went to gather it up, the weight sitting heavier in his over-used arms than it had the previous day. Lovino ran his tongue over his teeth as he trudged down the hall toward his dorm, fantasizing at how nice it would feel to brush his teeth and change into fresh clothes. He pushed his back against the door when he reached the end of the building, smiling lightly at the crisp morning air, the faint musky scent of cold bark and soil intermingling with the floral fragrance of fresh laundry.

The air was cold but felt good against his burning eyes, and the barely lightened earth was painted in soothing shades of blue. For a moment he was able to forget about his workload, about his self-enforced obligations and perceived shortcomings, but the feeling was regrettably short-lived as he made his way into the comparably stifling dormitory. Lovino's heartbeat picked up double time as he marched up the stairs to the second floor, seemingly making up for the short moments of peace it had only just allowed him. His anxiety only increased as he passed through the door into his hall, he could hear voices, and, despite having no context to believe they were related to him in any way, his palms started to sweat profusely and he felt his pulse racing in the back of his head.

His fears were confirmed when he made it to the dorm, the door propped open with a chair while his brother and two unfamiliar men conversed. "What's going on?" Lovino asked dumbly, mouth drying out instantly as he let his laundry basket fall to the floor.

"Ah, Lovi~" Feliciano cried, tears tracing the corner of his eyes as he scrambled towards his brother, pulling him into a tight embrace. "We were robbed."

"What?" Lovino snapped as soon as the words processed in his whirling brain, "what do you mean we were robbed?"

"They took my laptop," Feliciano continued, distressed. "I was hoping that you had it."

"Wait, what are you-" Lovino grasped his brother by his shoulders and pulled him from his chest, desperately trying to piece the stimuli together in his sleep-deprived mind, "what are you saying?" He clarified, "what happened?"

"You must be the brother," a man, whom Lovino could now recognize as a campus safety officer, interrupted, placing a hand on Feliciano's shoulder and easing the boy away as he held a hand out to the older Italian.

Lovino took the hand in his, shaking it numbly before letting his arm fall to his side. "Lovino was it?" The man continued, clearly trying to gain control of the situation. The boy only nodded, finally allowing himself the opportunity to look around the ransacked room. "This sort of things happens pretty often, unfortunately," the officer explained, his voice a practiced mix of compassion and authority, "usually when the door has been left unlocked."

"I told him you always make us lock the door!" Feliciano interrupted, eyes starting to glisten with new tears as he grabbed onto the arm of the second stranger in the cramped room.

"Is that true, son?" The officer leveled a stare at Lovino, not bothered by the younger Italian's interruption. Lovino nodded again, not yet trusting his voice.

The man nodded and sighed, "I'm sorry about this boys, we'll do our best to catch these guys, but don't get your hopes up." A trace of a scowl flashed across his face, years of seeing bad people get away with their deeds obviously wearing on him, but he replaced it quickly with a look of cool detachment as he pulled a notepad out of his back pocket. "If I could get some details, it'll help the process along," he clarified before prattling off a few cursory questions.

Lovino slumped wordlessly onto his bed, the conversation in the room little more than distant static as he searched his memory of Sunday's events. He remembered going to the dorm to get his clothes, it was the last time he had been there that day, and, he realized with a pang of guilt as his stomach churned, he hadn't locked the door when he left. Tears pricked the periphery of his vision and he blinked them frantically away, mortified at the thought of allowing his brother or either of these two strangers the pleasure of seeing him breakdown.

"Alright, boys, I'll give you a ring as soon as we come up with anything," the campus officer called, giving one last practiced sympathetic look as he left the dorm, kicking the chair from the door to leave the group in solitude.

"I guess we should clean this mess," Feliciano said after a tick. "You don't have to stay and help, I know you're busy," he addressed the tall boy next to him, giving a small smile of appreciation as he rested a hand on his arm.

"Who the fuck are you?" Lovino croaked, shooting the pair a glare and inwardly thanking whatever deity existed for keeping his voice from shaking. "And why did this only get reported this morning?"

"Ah," Feliciano started, clearly flustered as he looked imploringly into the taller boy's eyes.

"I'm Ludwig," the boy said in a thick German accent, blinking down at Feliciano before turning solemnly to the older brother.

"Great," Lovino replied sarcastically, immediately understanding the subtext of that simple statement and dropping his head into his palms to massage his pulsing temples.

Feliciano stepped in at that, sitting next to his brother on the bed and rubbing a comforting hand on his back, "he's a sculpture student, he knows Francis." The younger boy clarified.

"Stop," Lovino growled through clenched teeth, "just stop. I don't care to know about the kid fucking my brother behind my back."

Both Italians shot their gaze up with the sound that came from Ludwig's side of the room. The serious boy stood with hands splayed defensively in front of his chest, sweat dotting his forehead. "You're mistaken," he said simply, suddenly noticing the ridiculousness of his pose and straightening back up into his previous tempered posture.

Feliciano giggled lightly and returned to rubbing his brother's back, "it's not what you think, Lovi," he confirmed, "when I came home last night from painting and saw the room like this, I thought you must have done it. I didn't think much of it."

"Why would I have done this?" Lovino asked, exasperated as he looked over the disarray of the dorm.

Feliciano only shrugged, "ve~your clothes were gone so I thought maybe you were looking for change for the laundromat."

Lovino dropped his head into his hands again, muttering off a string of curses as he shook his head slowly. He was frustrated at his brother, for his obliviousness to the world and it's wicked tendencies, but he was more angry at himself for allowing this to happen in the first place. He was supposed to be the mature one after all, he was older and he was supposed to protect his brother. All this time he had been worried about stupid things like love, when a very real danger had been present. After all, he thought, his stomach lurching, what if the criminal had still been there when Feliciano had come home. He pushed the accompanying images away, willing himself to breathe slowly when dots splayed across his wavering vision.

"Are you okay" Feliciano started, brushing soft fingertips on his brother's quickly paling skin.

"Well what is he doing here?" Lovino interrupted, pointing an accusing finger at Ludwig.

"I called him when-"

"I want him to tell me." Lovino broke in, eyes still leveled murderously at the tall blonde.

Ludwig nodded, seeming completely unfazed, "Feliciano called me this morning telling me the situation. He said you hadn't returned that night and he wasn't sure what to do, so I came to offer my advice. Obviously, when I saw the room as it was, I suggested we call the campus police." The boy prattled off in a measured authoritative way, not unlike the effortless composure the officer had displayed.

Lovino sighed and straightened up, accepting the answer for the moment as he stole a glance at his bedside clock. "I have class in an hour, let's start getting this place cleaned up," he said with a scowl, rising to his feet to straighten an upended chair. Feliciano nodded and followed suit, singing softly as he shuffled around the room, fixing things with the natural domestic touch he possessed. Ludwig remained to help, and between the three of them, the room was just about returned to its previous order by the time Lovino had to go, throwing threats at Ludwig to stay away from his brother as he jogged to the studio.

There hadn't been much taken, Lovino considered as he watched a group of students graining their litho stones. Feliciano's laptop had been the biggest ticket item, and while Lovino was glad both boys had had their wallets on them, he didn't know how he was going to begin to get the money to replace the computer. The two had barely scraped together the money to buy it the first time, and had only deemed it important to do so when the school had informed them that it was basically a mandatory item. "Necessary" was how they had worded it, but the older boy had failed to see the difference.

"That pass is done," he said to closest student when a thick gray foam formed under her levigator. He ignored her distracted "okay" and lifted a hand to massage his forehead. His head hadn't stopped pounding since the shock from the morning, now in his last class of the day with the sun setting behind red-capped trees, the pain seemed almost unbearable. "Dammit, when the foam is gray that pass is over!" Lovino shouted irritably, making his students jump and stare at him. A few giggles sounded from across the room and Lovino heaved a sigh and let his head fall back before straightening up again and brushing the hair from his eyes, "okay, that's enough for today. We'll finish on Wednesday." He said, trying and failing to make his weak voice sound authoritative.

The students shrugged and cleaned up their work, immediately breaking into inane prattle as they exited the studio. When the room had cleared, Lovino trudged to a table, slumping into the closest seat and resting his elbows on the the surface, his head held between his palms. He deserved this pain, he decided when the throbbing in his head worsened and his stomach rolled. He deserved it for being self-centered, for abandoning his work, his brother and his morals in order to pander to his most hedonistic needs. A knot formed in his throat, and he thought he might cry, but mercifully no tears came to his eyes.

Lovino tried to straighten up in his seat, only to crumple again when the florescent lighting of the studio reignited the pain in his temples and his vision wavered. "Fuck," he gasped miserably, disgusted at his helplessness. Some distant part of him wondered if Antonio would be coming by today, and he scolded himself as soon as the idea floated into his consciousness. He didn't want that bastard's help, he was sick of being a burden, sick of his own uselessness. Feliciano had flaws but he owned up to them, and his talents made up for it. Lovino, however, while possessing many of the same short-comings as his brother, lacked the humility to admit to them. 'And on top of that, I let us get fucking robbed,' the boy lamented internally, revolted by his own self-pity. How strange it was, he mused, to both hate yourself, and hate yourself for being self-centered enough to do so.

Lovino sucked on his lower lip, steeling himself against the throbbing in his head that had mutated into an annoying tapping noise in his ears. He had only begun to lift himself to shaky legs when he realized the tapping was footsteps, and they were heading his way.

"Lovi?" A distant voice sounded. Lovino turned his head up and blinked, the static in his vision making it impossible to recognize the face addressing him. The color had been sucked from his surroundings, and the other presence moved towards him in what seemed like slow motion as the Italian realized he was going to pass out. He opened his mouth to inform the approaching figure of that fact, only to buckle forward, bracing himself to meet hard linoleum before his vision turned black.

"-ay?" Lovino felt his mind stir into consciousness. "Hey, Lovi," a noise sounded, the Italian searched his mind, trying to remember what those words meant. "Open your eyes," the voice begged. His cognition became sharper with the desperate plea, and so he followed the command, only to wince when the light filled his pupils. The other figure, who he could now place as Antonio, turned his eyes to the heavens and sighed a few colorful curses before combing a hand through Lovino's tussled hair. "What happened? How do you feel?" He asked, worried but firm.

Lovino only blinked, the pain in his head distracting him from forming coherent thoughts. "Right," Antonio nodded solemnly, not wasting another moment before sliding a hand under the young Italian's legs and another behind his back. Lovino wanted to protest, but found he lacked the energy to do so.

The Italian closed his eyes for a moment, biting the inside of his mouth at the pain that flared every time his body was jostled. When he felt the chilled autumn air kiss his cheeks, he opened them again, shocked when he realized he wasn't being taken to his dorm like he had anticipated. "Where are you taking me, bastard?" He asked weakly, hoping the profane nickname would make up for his inability to sound sufficiently angry.

"The hospital," Antonio replied simply, not bothered by the sluggish profanities rattled off by his hostage.

"I don't need to go to the hospital you damn idiot," Lovino protested, trying to struggle against Antonio's hold but giving up when he realized the ineffectiveness of his efforts.

"You do," Antonio said, slowing down when he reached the side of his car. "I think you may be dehydrated," he added. "Do you think you can stand for a minute?"

Lovino nodded against the Spaniard's shoulder, supposing it was impossible to argue when he barely had the energy to hold himself upright in the short time it took Antonio to fish his car keys from his pocket and lower the Italian into the back seat. "I can sit in the front," Lovino protested when the older boy encouraged him to lie down.

"No, it's better back here," Antonio said gently, making sure Lovino was securely placed before hopping in the front seat and heading quickly, but gently toward the hospital. He stole a glance of the weary-looking Italian in the rearview mirror, noting with a pang of worry at how the pale his complexion had become. "Hey, are you still awake back there?"

Lovino grumbled back in response, gritting his teeth in a bid to not decorate Antonio's floorboard with the contents of his stomach. "We're almost there," Antonio encouraged, secretly thankful that the Italian had been too drained to put up much of a fight. The Spaniard flew around to the back seat as soon as he had pulled into a parking spot, participating in a small fight when Lovino had insisted he could walk on his own, but ultimately winning when the smaller boy's knees buckled as soon as he attempted to stand. The wait in the lobby had been mercifully short, and the doctor had only needed to hear Lovino's symptoms before determining that he was indeed dehydrated and fitting him with an iv when the Italian proved unable to hold a cup.

After receiving liquid, Lovino felt marginally better, he allowed his back to relax into the propped up hospital bed as the incoming liquid cleared out his stifling headache. Now that he could move without experiencing intense pain, embarrassment started to settle back into his mind, and he felt himself teetering on the edge of a breakdown every time a new attendant came, preaching to him as if he were a child about proper nutrition and being aware of one's body.

"Do you want me to call your brother?" Antonio asked when the most recent attendant fled, saying she'd be back in an hour to release him.

"No." Lovino said simply, determined that it was best for Feliciano to never know about this event.

Antonio "hm'ed" in understanding and turned his eyes to the ceiling, "so what happened to eating properly and taking a nap, anyway?" He teased lightly, jumping when he heard a stifled sob come from the bed next to him.

"H-hey, Lovi, no, I was kiddi-I don't care-I mean it's okay," he gasped out in a hurry, sending the plastic hospital chair clattering behind him as he rushed to the young Italian's side.

"S-stupid bastard," Lovino moaned around a sob, hiding his face in his hands as tears traced his heated cheeks. It was more aimed at himself than Antonio, but if the Spaniard thought he was being addressed, he was okay with that.

Antonio tried to pull Lovino's hands away from his face, eventually giving up when the boy's grip held firm. Instead he hoisted himself on the side of the bed, moving in close to the Italian in order to whisper nonsense words in his ear as he stroked a hand through the crying boy's hair. The motion reminded Lovino of his brother and made him feel sick, so he pushed the arm away, slumping further into himself.

Antonio dropped his hand without a fight and cocked his head at the boy, even for the sensitive Italian, this reaction seemed a little extreme for having failed in his promise to cease his workaholic tendencies. "What's going on?" He asked, bracing himself to be told off for prying, but pleasantly surprised when the Italian sniffed and let his shoulders slacken.

"We were robbed." The voice came out muffled and broken, but Antonio understood what had been said and nodded seriously.

"Is there anything I can do?" He asked.

Lovino let his hands fall into his lap and shook his head slowly, blinking away new tears that threatened to fall. "It's not that, idiot." He bit back, face reddening from the weight of his confession, "it's my fault, I left the damn door unlocked."

Antonio's eyebrows knit in sympathy, he wanted to tell the boy that it wasn't his fault, that bad people existed whether he left his door unlocked or not, but he knew it wouldn't be helpful, so instead he just rested a hand on the Italian's shoulder and sighed. "What did they take?"

"Feliciano's damn laptop," Lovino continued, unable to stop his tongue now that he had begun, "but it's not even that, I can replace that. It sucks, but I'll figure it out."

"Then why-" Antonio started.

"I'm just, dammit, I don't know." Lovino struggled to say the words, wilting under the weight of Antonio's eyes, "I'm just so fucking mad at myself."

"Because of the laptop?" Antonio asked, head tilted as he considered the Italian's words.

"No, fuck the laptop. I don't fucking care." Lovino shouted, wincing in shame when an attendant leaned a head in and shushed him. "It's Feliciano," he continued more quietly, "I could have put him in danger. I-" He stopped when fresh tears flooded his eyes and a knot bobbed in his throat. "I'm his big brother," he forced back a sob, "I've lost too much in life already. I can't lose him, too. I'd kill myself." He turned his head away from Antonio, shocked by his own admittance.

The Spaniard didn't respond, he didn't try to comfort him, to tell him he was wrong or crazy. Instead he just wrapped an arm around the boy's shoulders and held him close. Somehow, Lovino understood that the Spaniard wouldn't mention what had just been said, that it was a secret that would stay silent between the two of them, and rather than the food, or the comfort, or the cheerfulness Antonio had provided him, he thought that trust might be the best gift he had ever received.

"Are you okay?" Antonio asked for what felt like the hundredth time since Lovino had been released to go home.

"I'm fine, I'm fine, drop it already." Lovino rolled his eyes, resting his head between his seat and the window as he watched the glowing orange streetlights whiz by. "Guess I'm not going to be getting any work done tonight," he mumbled to himself miserably.

"No, Doctor's orders!" Antonio agreed, head bobbing happily.

"Yeah, yeah," Lovino groaned, rubbing his eyes as he watched the shadow of the approaching school. The Spaniard only tittered lightly at the dramatic display, familiar enough with the Italian that he knew the exasperation was more an act than actual irritation. "What, no curb service?" Lovino snapped his head from his hands when Antonio pulled into a parking spot.

The older boy downshifted into park and ran a hand through his unruly rocks, "well, I left my bag in the studio when-" he trailed off, not wanting to embarrass the already emotionally zapped Italian.

"Ah," Lovino said knowingly, ignoring the flush that he knew was trailing from the back of his neck to his ears.

"But I was going to walk you to your dorm anyway, so it's not a big deal," Antonio winked, ignoring the groan from the opposite side of the car as he unbuckled his seatbelt and hoisted himself from his seat.

"Hopefully no one stole it," Lovino said grimly as they trudged up to the deserted studio.

"Aw, Lovi," Antonio said simply, patting the boy on the shoulder. "Ah, see? Just as I left it." He smiled when he spied his bag, splayed across the table closest to the door.

"Whoopee," the Italian replied dryly, moving to pick up a few of his forgotten items and depositing them back in his flat file.

Antonio watched the Italian thoughtfully and looked down at his bag, "Hey Lovi, I understand if you're too tired, but it'd be a shame to let this food go to waste-" he trailed off.

Lovino leveled a blank stare at the Spaniard, and Antonio almost redacted his statement before the Italian shrugged and sighed, "might as well." He relented. He was tired, it was true, and his limbs felt like noodles, but Antonio had gone out of his way for him, had been there when no one else was, and though he didn't understand how his presence could be considered enjoyable, far be it from him to deny him of it.

Antonio's mouth spread into a wide grin and he quickly unzipped his bag, rifling through it for slightly dewey containers. "Oh, here Lovi," he said distractedly, tossing a folded cloth to the boy.

Lovino jumped slightly but caught the item, staring it up and down before he started to unfold it. He grimaced slightly at the ruffled edges and gaudy tomato pattern, "Wh-what is this?"

Antonio laughed and scratched his nose, "ah, it's an apron, y'know, so you don't stain any more clothes."

Lovino didn't respond, he sat blinking down at the tacky apron, mouth slightly agape. And before he knew it he was on his feet, grabbing a handful of the Spaniard's shirt and pulling the boy's soft lips into his own. Antonio gave a short gasp of shock and took a moment to regain his composure before sliding a hand behind Lovino's head, returning the kiss with all the force of his pent-up passion. He let his fingers become intertwined with the boy's soft locks, knees going weak as he became intoxicated by the scent, the smell, and the taste of the younger Italian. Finally they pulled away, staring breathlessly at one another before Antonio broke the silence, "so, I guess you like the apron?"

Lovino rolled his eyes and let his head fall against the Spaniard's chest, "idiot," he growled, faint smile tracing his lips.