When I first wrote this, I'd never thought that this story will get this many positive feedbacks. I'm a happy author *sniff*

So here's chapter 2. I'm sorry for the very late update, and I also apologize for grammar mistakes, very lacking vocabulary (yes, I'm ashamed for that), and any OOC-ness that you might find here.

Thank you for those who read, review, and/or putting this story in fave or alert. I love you all!

I do NOT own Hetalia

As days pass, the relationship between the twins and the two men seem to be getting closer, and people are added to their circle of friendship. Ludwig brought his brother, an albino man with red eyes and self-centered nature, to the diner. Gilbert soon fell for Elizabeta, one of the waitress there, and has been trying to flirt with her since then, making the young woman smacked him over the head with her frying pan one evening. He only becomes more persistent at that though.

Antonio also brought his other close friend Francis there, and the amount of flirting done in the diner increased in a rapid speed. The French man flirts to every waitress there and blows kisses to them, sometimes he also gets Elizabeta's frying pan on his head.

Boss doesn't mind with the flirts, but he scolded Elizabeta for smacking customers when she done it for the first times. But as time pass and he sees the two smacking-target keep coming despite the damage, boss lets her.

Not long after that, Gilbert brought along his other friends from high school, a sharp-eyed Swiss man with his sister from Liechtenstein and an aristocrat-looking Austrian. He's followed by Antonio bringing his co-worker, a cheerful young woman from Belgium and her scary Dutch big brother. Soon, they also became regulars there, making the boss threw both twins with an armful of big-bodied-and-bearded-middle-aged-man, laughing at their ears and exclaiming that they really are bringers of fortune. The diner is always more crowded and lively with the group there.

-colorful wall-

"Ve, Ludwig! Ludwig!"

One nice morning in a one nice diner with a one nice-cough-annoying Italian. Ludwig looks up from his newspaper. "What is it, Feliciano?"

The Italian wheels to him and throws himself to the larger man, wrapping his arms around his neck and locking him into a hug. "Boss asks me to go doing grocery. Let's go together, Ludwig. It's Saturday so you don't have work either, right?"

Ludwig flushes, still not used to the affection the younger man showers him. He wonders how on earth his new friend (for two months) knows about him doesn't work on Saturdays. He guesses that his brother told him.

"Ve, come on, Ludwig. Come oonnn!" Feliciano takes his arm and drags him out of his seat. Ludwig yelps and frantically falls into steps behind him, his arm still in the shorter man's grasp. Boss laughs from behind the counter. "Just follow him, Mr. Ludwig. You know it's impossible to refuse."

And he knows that full well, so he pulls his arm away, face flushed, stuttering, "O-okay, okay. Stop pulling me!"

"But Ludwig's arm is so nice to hold," Feliciano pouts, but it stays no longer as his face brightens once again into his usual beaming smile. "Come on, Ludwig, ve!"

And Ludwig is really thankful that there's only very few customers there because he blushes a deeper shade of red hearing the statement. They walk out into the pouring sunlight and into the street, Feliciano leading the way to the grocery shop. Along the way, Feliciano chats about random things happily, about how boss' cat had given birth to three kittens, Elizabeta buying a new frying pan that she claims to be "stronger", etc etc. Ludwig tries to pay attention but he gets distracted often with his own thought. One time, a sigh escapes his lips before he's able to suppress it.

Hearing that, Feliciano turns around, looking at him. "What's wrong, Ludwig? You're frowning, ve."

Ludwig forces a small fake smile. "Nothing. Don't worry, Feliciano."

Feliciano whirls his wheelchair around to face him and cocks his head to the side, observing him. Ludwig finds himself holding his breath. The younger man pouts. "Ludwig isn't good at lying, ve. I know you're having a problem. Is it work?"

Feliciano isn't as oblivious as he seems. He's actually quite observant, Ludwig decides again. He sighs. He knows the Italian won't stop asking (pestering) him until he talks, so he nods. "I don't know if I should continue my job or not, Feliciano. I'm confused right now."

Feliciano looks at him with the same wide innocent eyes. "Are you happy, Ludwig? Are you happy working there?"

"I've never really thought about it," Ludwig admits.

"If you don't, you should just stop. That's what I think, ve."

Ludwig's eyes widen. "Feliciano, it's not as simple as that. Looking for a job isn't easy, and I don't know what else I can work as besides an accountant."

"It's not easy," Feliciano agrees. "But it's not impossible. Gilbert told me that you like engineering, and that your father taught you how to be one. Why not work as that?"

Ludwig's mouth hangs open. Why didn't it occur to him before? Seeing his expression, Feliciano giggles. "Ludwig's face is funny, ve! Is it that surprising?"

"It is." Ludwig closes his mouth. "It never occurred to me before. It's actually a good idea, maybe. But…"

"You're worried about the earnings?" Is this man a psychic or something? "I think you'll be fine, Ludwig. Don't worry too much about the future. It'll only zap your happiness away." He smiles up at him. "Because life is meant to be happiness, Ludwig."

"You're optimistic." Ludwig decides.

"I am, ve." He looks at him, and Ludwig is surprised that his gaze for once is calm and knowing. "That's the way I live. We live to be happy."

The German is silenced for what seems like several minutes but actually just several seconds. Slowly, he replies, "Maybe you're right."

"See?" Feliciano beams. "So, be happy, Ludwig!"

This time, he lets a chuckle escapes his lips as he follows the other man who's already few steps ahead of him, waving him with "Ve, come on, Ludwig!"

-colorful wall-

Walking Romano to and from his workplace has become a new routine for Antonio for these past two months. And he enjoys it. He likes it to have something to look forward to every day instead of his piling work. And Romano seems to have finally come in term with it since he doesn't complain anymore and actually responds to his talk. Antonio is happy for that. Even though he doesn't mind being yelled at or thrown with curses, he's happy that he can have conversation with the Italian peacefully (as peacefully as Romano's colorful vocabulary lets).

And he learns that Romano is not as harsh and grumpy as he seems. He just can't be honest to other people. He covers his true feelings with curses and profanities. Antonio understands that through how every day he will ask about his work while pretending not to care and claiming that he asks just because there's nothing particular to talk about. And Antonio has learned to see and hear beneath the appearance and words, and to accept that with a smile or a laugh. Sometimes he really wants Romano to just be honest, but he restrains from telling him that, because he knows his place. They've only known each other for two months. Even though now they're practically close friends, who is he to demand as such? It seems that it's harder for Romano to be honest than to lie, so Antonio doesn't want to push him. Romano is okay as he is now, so no need to change it, right?

But he still has a ton of questions. What happened to their parents? What have caused them to be like that? How did they manage? And how did Romano get his job at the first place? Any normal restaurant wouldn't want to employ a blind man. Antonio knows his other questions are too private and he has to wait longer to ask, but he decides to ask his question about Romano's job this evening, as he walks to the restaurant.

He arrives just at the time when the said man walks out through the staff door, slamming it closed behind him. He looks irritated, angry almost.

"Romano!" Antonio calls out, smiling. He knows the man can't see him, but for some reason Romano often knows when he's smiling. He says he can "hear" it through his "always-damn-cheerful voice".

Romano turns his eyes to him and approaches, grumbling something under his breath that sounds close to "fuck". When the streetlamp's light falls to his figure, Antonio notices that his right hand is bandaged. "Romano, what happened to your hand?"

Instead of answering, he pushes the said hand deeper into his coat pocket, grumbling a "shit, he notices" under his breath. "Nothing."

Antonio grabs his wrist and pulls his hand out, revealing it beneath the streetlight. It is bandaged around the palm, and is a bit stained with blur red. He frowns in worry. "Romano, what happened?"

"Accident." He replies curtly, wrenching his hand away. "I forgot where the damn knife was put and got fucking cut. That's all. Don't tell Feli. He'll freak out."

Antonio notices the younger man flinches when he shoves his hand back into his pocket. His frown deepens. Romano, who walks through the street and cooks, all by habits, forgot where his knife was put? That's just plain impossible. And the wound seem too large to be just from an accident.

"Let's just go," Romano turns and walks ahead of him into the crowded street. But Antonio grabs his shoulders and spins him around so they're face to face. The Italian glares at him. "What do you fucking want, bastard?"

"I know it was not an accident," Antonio says. "You said it yourself. You do everything without help because your habits guide you. You won't make a mistake like forgetting where you put your knife."

Romano's gaze wavers for a second, but he tries to break free from the other man's grip. "Why do you fucking think so? Let's go, Feli will be worried, and I don't know what that potato bastard will do to him when I'm not there."

"Romano," Antonio's tone is calm and serious and has a firm edge to it. "Tell me."

Romano looks away, eyebrows scrunched together and his lips are pushed into a thin line. He looks, troubled. Antonio knows he doesn't want to tell him, but he has to know. He knows, that with his sight gone, his touch, his hands, are everything to Romano. With his hands, he touches, learns, recognizes, and works. He may be clumsy, but he's careful with his hands.

But seeing him like that, Antonio can't help but feeling a bit guilty. He loosens his grip and speaks more softly. "We're friends, aren't we? I promise I won't tell Feli, so tell me."

They stay like that for several more seconds before Romano sighs and finally replies, "Fine, bastard. So let go of me."

Antonio smiles and releases him. "I'm listening."

"This afternoon after break, one of my knives was missing from its usual place, so I ask one of my co-worker to borrow his."

He tchs again. "Why am I telling you this? You'll be all worrywart again after this."

"Romano," Antonio reminds him. "It's okay."

He hesitates for a moment before speaking again. "Then he handed me the knife…with the sharp edge pointed to me. I grabbed it without thinking, so…" He shrugs. "My hand's like this. Satisfied now?"

Antonio freezes. Anger starts to bubble up inside him. "Romano…"

"What?" He replies half-heartedly, looking away. "I've told you, so just, just forget about it, okay?"

"It wasn't an accident. That guy was trying to hurt you!"

"He had already done it, so trying isn't the right word," Romano mumbles. "See? You'll be like this when you know. It was an accident, okay? Just forget about it."

Antonio ignores him. "What happened after that?"

"That bastard frantically apologized, saying he was too busy he didn't pay attention. Headchef entered the kitchen and he took me to the backroom to treat my hand. I could still feel their fucking stares at me." Romano kicks the ground in frustration. "Fuck."

"Did the headchef know what happened?"

"Obviously. I heard him warned the guy after work, saying not to put anyone in the kitchen in danger. The guy's apologies was really sugar-coated, I want to just fuck."

"He only warned him?" Antonio exclaims unbelievingly. "He almost severed your hand and he only gave him warning?"

"That's enough, okay?" Romano snaps. "It was a good thing! I don't want him to respond it overly just because I can't see. I wasn't being careful too."

"So now you say it was your fault?"

"I don't! Holy Jesus!" Romano cries out angrily. "I said I wasn't being careful. I know that several guys there don't like me. I'll be more careful next time, okay? Stop making it sound like it's a big fat problem!"

Both fume at their spots for another several minutes before Antonio sighs heavily. "Do you want me to talk to your boss?"

"God, Antonio, I'll be fine! I'm not a high school teenager that's being bullied and needs help from the fucking principal and teachers. I'll solve it on my own." Romano scowls and heaves a sigh.

"Promise me that you'll be careful then." Antonio looks at him at the eyes. Romano's still scowling, but his eyes soften.

"Fine, I promise. Let's fucking go now, for real."

Antonio smiles softly and falls into steps beside him. "Hey, Roma?"

"Stop calling me that, jerk."

"Why do you despise help so much? Like the one with the cane. I can understand what you said that time, but I see that you never ask for help for other things."

Romano seems to be thinking before answering. "I don't despise help. And I do ask for help when things are messed up."

"Why? Why not before it gets out of hands?"

"Because," Romano changes his track just in time when he hears the croaked singing of the street musician ahead of him. "As long as I can still do it, I will. When I can't, I try. When things get out of hands, that's when I ask for damn help. So I won't do that for such little things like fucking guys that don't fucking like me. I can still manage."

He falls silent and lets the words sink in.

-colorful wall-

It was silent.

And he listened, eyes wide with fear and face streaked with tears that was still flowing, listened to the silence that was only broken by the sound of dripping liquid. His whole body trembled and he tried to speak but found his mouth dry.

He tried to move but found himself unable to, so in dread he just stayed there, laying on the cold floor.

He could vaguely make out the sound of heavy rain outside, but his ears rang with the silence and only that.

He was scared. He was terrified.

He breathed too fast and his chest hurt, but he couldn't do anything except listened, listened to the silence and the soft 'thud thud' sounds from someone's steps. When the sounds finally dissipated and silence once again came, that was when he found his voice.

"Fratello…."

Feliciano wakes up with a gasp and wide eyes. His body shoots upward to a sitting position and he breathes heavily, tears starting to form on his eyes. He looks to his side and finds out that it's empty. He begins to sob uncontrollably, his body shakes and his eyes wide with fear. "Fratello…" He whimpers. "Where are you?"

And just like in his nightmare, the silence drowns all the noise from around him, making him chokes and frantically trying to get down from the bed, only to fall hard on the floor.

Romano was woken up in the middle of the night by the sharp sting on his right palm. Groaning, he examined it with his left hand and found that the bandage was peeled off, probably from his bad sleeping habit. It has been two days but it still stings. So he sleepily got off the bed to the bathroom to change it. Just when he finished wrapping the bandage, he heard a loud 'thump' sound from their room.

Cursing, he shoves the first aid kit back into the shelf and makes his way into his room. He can't see, but he can hear Feliciano's sobbing from below him, meaning he's on the floor.

"Holy shit! Feliciano, what are you doing?" He quickly makes his way to his crying brother's side and kneels down. Just when he stretches out his arm to search for him, Feliciano throws himself at him, locking his arms around his neck in a tight hug and sobbing into his shoulder.

Romano tries to steady himself and sits down on the floor, wrapping his arms around his brother's trembling figure and rubs his back to soothe him. "Hell, what's wrong, Feli?" Gaining no reply, he runs his hand through his brother's hair gently. "Did you have a nightmare?"

Feliciano nods into his shoulder, his sobs slowly cease. "It's silent," he chokes. "It's too silent. I don't like it, fratello. Don't leave me!"

Romano frowns. "I'm only off to the bathroom, Feli. It's only the nightmare. It's over now." But Feliciano shakes his head.

"It's not," he sobs. "It hasn't."

Romano sighs. For some reason, Feliciano doesn't like silence. He's scared of being left in a room or a building all by himself. He freaks out if he wakes up in the middle of the night and Romano isn't by his side. People tend to say that he doesn't like to be alone. Romano once thought so too, until Feliciano says the thing about silence. He never finds out why. When he asks, Feliciano doesn't want to answer.

"I won't leave you alone, you know that." He says softly, feeling his brother relaxes. "Come on, let's get you back on the bed."

Feliciano sniffs and nods, slowly pulling away, seeming to be reluctant. Romano places his arms below his brother's armpits and lifts him up to the bed in one quick move. Panting, he helps Feliciano gets his whole body on the bed and pulls the blanket up to his chest.

"Fratello," Feliciano whimpers, "I don't feel so good."

Romano is about to reply that maybe it's from the nightmare, but when he puts his hand to his brother's sweaty forehead, he frowns in worry. It's hot. "You've got fever, Feli," he says. "No wonder you got the nightmare."

He rises to his feet, off the bed. "I'm going to get something to compress your head. Wait just a minute, okay?"

"No, don't!" Feliciano cries out and grabs his hand. "Don't leave me alone, fratello! It's silent! I don't like it! I'm scared!"

"For God's sake, cut it out, Feli!" Romano tries to get his hand off of his brother's grip, but it only tightens. "I'll just go to the bathroom, for a minute!"

Feliciano shakes his head abruptly, starting to cry again. "Please, fratello! Per favore!"

Romano stops on his track. His brother, just like him, only uses Italian when he deems necessary or when he's feeling emotional, like when he's really happy, or really scared. Hearing him said it like a plea, he must be really, truly scared. How the hell can a nightmare drive him like this?

He sighs, but turns back to his brother's side, other hand searching for his face and up to ruffle his hair. "Fine. Keep talking to me until I'm back from the bathroom. That way it won't be silent anymore, right?"

Feliciano sniffs, "Okay."

Romano pinches his nose lightly and gently pries his hand away from Feliciano's. Making his way to the bathroom, they rant about random stupid things from the weather, tomato sauce, the pattern of the sheet, etc until Romano finally back into the room with a wet cloth which he places on Feliciano's forehead, and a small basin filled with water. He places it on the bedside table and sits down beside the younger Italian. He feels his brother's gaze on him.

"Ve, I'm feeling a little better now, fratello. You should go to sleep. You have work tomorrow, right?"

"Yeah, but I'll go ask my boss for day off tomorrow so I can take care of you."

Feliciano whines, "I don't want to trouble you. I'll be fine by myself."

"I don't think so." Romano replies, taking the cloth and soaking it with cold water again, squeezing the water out of it, and putting it back on Feliciano's forehead, only to miss by several centimeters and the cloth lands on his nose. "You might be able to do many things perfectly, but you're hopeless if it's about yourself."

"Ve…" Feliciano pouts, fixing the cloth so it's placed on his forehead, but it is soon followed by a light cough.

"Go back to sleep, Feli." Romano says. "I'll stay awake for few more minutes."

Feliciano seems to disapprove, but his eyelids are heavy and his brother's presence calms him down. Slowly, he drifts off into a peaceful sleep, as peaceful as his fever allows. Romano pulls the blanket higher and gently whispers, "Sweet dreams, fratello."

-colorful wall-

Romano can only sleep for 2-3 hours that night before he's woken up by his alarm clock and his brother's coughs beside him. His hand trashes around the bedside table until he gets the ringing clock and turns it off, muttering, "Damn alarm and its damn loud ringing."

He pulls himself to a sitting position reluctantly, head's a mess and eyes heavy. But upon hearing another set of coughs, he instinctively moves his hand around until he finds his brother's head, placing it carefully on his forehead. His fever hasn't gone down yet, and Romano can hear Feliciano's heavy breath quite loudly. He frowns in worry.

Getting off of the bed, he fumbles for his cellphone inside the bedside drawer and dials a number. He waits until the other side picks it up and a sleepy voice answers, "Yes?"

"Antonio, I need you to get your ass here in our apartment first thing in your schedule. You don't need to pick me up at Feli's because I won't be working today."

He hears the rustling of sheet on the background and Antonio replies, sounds more awake and worried. "Did something happen?"

"Feli got a fever," Romano replies, walking out to the small living room. "I'll take care of him today, so I need to go to my workplace and ask my boss for some days off. I need you to look for him while I'm gone."

"I'll be there soon," Antonio promises and hangs up. But less then 10 seconds later, a call comes in from him.

"Wait, where do you guys live?"

Romano groans and slaps his forehead before telling him their address.

In half an hour, Antonio is there. Romano opens the front door for him and lets him inside. Feliciano is half-awake and is tucked in more layers of blanket his brother got for him. A cold wet cloth is placed on his forehead. His face is a bit red from the fever and he coughs once every several seconds.

"Feli!" Antonio runs to his side when he sees him. "Are you okay?"

"Don't talk too loud, moron," Romano smacks the back of his head. "You'll make his headache worse."

"Ve, it's alright, fratello," Feliciano manages a croaked reply and a weak smile. "Thanks for coming, Antonio."

"It's no problem at all," Antonio pats his head. "You and Roma are always welcome. Do you want me to inform Ludwig?"

"Don't." Romano smacks him again on his head. "I don't want that potato bastard anywhere near him."

"But fratello," Feliciano whines. "I want to see Ludwig. He might be worried too."

"Feli, you need to rest." Romano replaces the cold cloth on his forehead. "If that potato's here, you won't be able to."

"But…"

Romano sighs, before finally says, "Fine, fine. You can see him tomorrow, when you're hopefully better. Not today. That's my final fucking deal."

"Thank you, fratello!" Feliciano chirps from underneath the blankets. "I love you!"

"Hmph," Is Romano's only reply, but Antonio catches a glimpse at him and sees him blushing lightly. He chuckles.

"I'll go to my workplace to ask my boss for day off. I'll stop by your place to tell yours, and I'll also do grocery. So what do you want to eat?" Romano puts on his coat and searches for his wallet on its pocket.

Feliciano's face brightens on that. "Ve, Grandpa's soup!" A cough is soon followed.

Romano rolls his eyes but can't suppress a smile. "You always ask for that when you're sick. Don't you want something else?"

"Nope. I love Grandpa's soup that you make, fratello." Feliciano smiles at him through half-opened eyes.

"Okay. I'll be back in about an hour and a half," Romano stuffs his wallet into his pocket. He turns to Antonio. "I can trust you to look after him, right?"

"Of course, Roma!" Antonio replies cheerfully. "Be careful on your way, okay?"

"No need to remind me, jerk." Romano huffs. "I'll be going then. If anything happens, just call me."

"Oh, fratello," Feliciano calls out for him, voice weak. "Don't you need help with the grocery? Picking vegetables and kinds."

"I'll just go to Matthew's place," Romano replies, hand on the doorknob. "No need to worry too much. Just try to sleep, Feli." With that he steps out and closes the door behind him.

"Matthew is our neighbour," Feliciano explains to Antonio's questioning look. "He works at a grocery store. He and fratello are friends. He always helps fratello with vegetables, fruits, and others when he does groceries there."

"I see," Antonio nods knowingly. He replaces the cloth and sits down on a chair he takes from the kitchen, watching the Italian closes his eyes, falling asleep.

Romano comes back about an hour later, bags of groceries in his arms.

"Welcome back," Antonio greets him and offers to help him with the groceries, receiving a grunted rejection as usual. "You're quick."

"Matthew gave me a lift," He replies, putting the groceries on the kitchen counter. "How's Feli?"

"I've compressed him, and he's sleeping. But maybe he'll need to see a doctor. His cough seems to be worsened."

"We don't see a doctor except if we're badly sick. I went to the pharmacy and bought him medicine too." Romano replies, moving to the bedroom and checking Feliciano's temperature with his hand. "I'll cook something now." He replaces the cold compress before leaving the bedroom into the kitchen. Antonio follows him, watching as he unpacks the groceries. Putting the apron on, Romano starts to cook; washing vegetables, cutting carrots, peeling potatoes, while waiting for the water to boil.

Antonio watches in awe as he moves around smoothly, almost as if he can see, except for the few movements that state otherwise. "Hey, Romano?"

"What?" He sprinkles salt into the soup.

"Who taught you to cook?"

He's silent for a moment, seems to be thinking to answer it or not. "My grandfather."

"I didn't know you have one!"

"How should you anyway?"

Antonio chuckles. "I thought it was your mother. I mean, usually it is."

Romano stirs the boiling soup, once again is silent before replying. "It wasn't. And she wouldn't do something like that anyway."

Antonio blinks. "Why?"

Romano puts in the ingredients, muttering something he can't hear. Antonio catches a glimpse of his expression on that, scowling and eyes hold something he can't quite point. "Eh? What was that?"

"Because she wasn't around when I learned how to cook," Romano replies, stirring the soup. "Satisfied now, jerk?"

Antonio somehow knows that it's not the real answer, but decides not to press further. It seems that it is a sensitive point. So he changes the topic. "How did he teach you? To cook, that is."

"He taught me to recognize the utensils first, and to memorize them by touching." Romano scoops a bit of the soup with a spoon and tastes it, frowning and reaching for seasonings. "And only after he was fucking satisfied that he moved to the basics."

"Must be difficult," Antonio muses.

"He was fucking Spartan," Romano agrees. "But he did it for my sake, so I can't fucking protest now."

"He only taught you the basics?"

"Yeah. Pasta and this soup are one of them."

"That means you learned the other recipes by yourself?"

"Is that so surprising?" Romano's face's curved into his trademark scowl at him. "Feliciano helped me too."

Antonio nods slowly in understanding, thinking. Then the realization comes. "Wait, so you didn't live with your parents?"

Romano stops halfway in his move to scoop the soup into a bowl. "No." He replies curtly.

"Why?"

"You ask a fucking lot today, bastard." He sets the bowl onto a small tray. "Why should I tell you?"

Antonio pouts, but Romano ignores him and walks past into the room. Feliciano is already awake, eyes half-opened and is smiling to them. "Fratello, you're home."

"Yeah. How are you feeling?" Romano sets the tray on the desk and helps his brother sits up.

"Not as bad, ve." Cough again.

Romano hands him the bowl. "Be careful, it's hot." Feliciano holds the bowl with both hands, inhaling the smell before he takes the spoon and begins to eat. Romano sits down beside him on the bed. "How is it?"

"It's delicious!" Feliciano beams at him. "It's been so long."

"Has it?"

"Yep." Feliciano smiles nostalgically as he eats. "Even mom couldn't make it as good as this."

Romano's eyes glint with a hint of pride, but it doesn't stay long. At the mention of "mom", his eyes turn cold. Antonio notices that, but Feliciano doesn't seem to, or he does but pretend not to.

"What's the deal with your mother?" Antonio blurts out before he's able to stop it, and immediately regrets saying that. Romano rises from the bed, muttering, "Fuck this. I'm going to wash the dishes," and leaves. Feliciano follows him with his eyes, but doesn't say anything. His brows furrow in concern and his eyes are sad, but they only stay for a moment. When he turns to Antonio, he's smiling a sad smile.

"Sorry for that, Antonio. It's a…" He plays with the spoon, stirring the soup in the bowl slowly. "Sensitive topic for fratello."

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that," Antonio scratches the back of his head, smacking himself inwardly. "I ask too much of your personal life. It's normal that he's angry."

Feliciano chuckles. "You're a journalist, Antonio. It can't be helped. It's your nature to ask, ve."

Antonio blinks. To hear the younger Italian saying it with a glint of knowing and maturity in his eyes, he's surprised. "You sure?"

Feliciano nods, still smiling. "Yep. I'm sure fratello understands too, but this is just…" He plays again with the spoon, shifting it from one finger to another. "Sensitive. And it's more to him than to me." He smiles apologetically to Antonio. "So please forgive him, Antonio."

"I'm the one who should apologize," Antonio replies. "And I must apologize to you too. I'm sorry, Feli."

"Don't worry about it, ve." Feliciano gives him a reassuring smile. "But I'm sorry I can't tell you anything. If fratello doesn't want to talk about it, I will respect his wishes."

"I understand," Antonio nods. Then he rises from his seat. "I'd better apologize to him now."

Feliciano smiles brightly at him. "Ve, good luck, Antonio. Don't worry, fratello is a forgiven person. Sometimes he just needs time."

Antonio grins. "Thanks, Feli." On the door, he stops and turns around to give the Italian a smile. "Oh, and you're really more mature than you look, you know."

Feliciano tilts his head. "Am I, ve?"

"Yep." Antonio nods, grinning as he leaves the room. Feliciano looks at his retreating form, confused, before deciding to shrug it off and finish his soup, slurping it happily as if nothing happened.

Romano is in the kitchen, hands absently rub soap onto the dishes. He tenses slightly hearing Antonio's steps into the kitchen, but says nothing.

"Romano," Antonio approaches him, stopping behind him, keeping their distances. Not too close and not too far.

He hears grunts in reply. He can't suppress a smile at that. But he speaks carefully. "I'm sorry."

Silence falls, and it stays for several minutes. Antonio stays at his spot, Romano continues with his washing. Only the sound of water is heard. Finally, the Italian speaks up.

"Damn good that you are."

"So you forgive me?" Antonio can't hide the hint of hope in his voice.

"Did I say otherwise, bastard?"

At that, Antonio literally brightens up and he almost throws himself at the Italian, but Romano seems to be able to sense that and shots him a glare. "Touch me and I'll kick you in the balls."

Antonio stops midway and lets his arms fall to his side, but he's still smiling. "Thank you, Roma~!"

A blush spread on Romano's face and he curses himself. Fucking stupid face that has to fucking blush in a really fucking wrong time.

"So cuuutteee…" Antonio cooes, and decides to take the risk. He covers the smaller Italian with his arms in a hug, and feels the body tenses immediately. For a second his face gets in contact with the boy's soft hair and he can smell soap, tomato sauce, and fresh tomatoes, before a strong elbow on his stomach sends him to the floor with a thud and yelps.

"That's what you get from touching me." Romano glares at him before quickly turns back to his dishes as another blush starts creeping on his face. Antonio laughs heartily from the floor as he rubs his bruised stomach. "Awww, Roma's so mean."

"I told you to stop calling me that." Romano grunts as he puts the last clean dish on the drying rack and turns off the tap. "Why are you still here anyway?"

"Hm? Oh…" Antonio pulls himself up to his feet. "I thought I'll stay here for a while in case any of you need anything."

"We'll be fine," Romano moves to the window, grabbing a watering can on his way, where a small plant in a pot is sitting on its sill. As he tilts the can and lets drops of water pouring onto the small leaves and into the soil, a small, vague smile tugs on his lips.

Antonio stares at him, eyes a bit wider. He never sees that expression on the younger man's face before, so peaceful and serene. And the way he runs his hand through the leaves searching for dry leaves or dead twigs, careful and full of love, Antonio can't help but fall silent, afraid that he might ruin the moment. And he's happy to find out another side of the Italian today. He actually looks like he's having fun, even though it's just a simple thing such as watering the plant.

After he looks like he's satisfied, Romano turns around to face him. "What are you fucking staring for?"

"You can tell?"

"I'm not living with more sharpened senses for no reason, moron."

Antonio laughs half-heartedly. "Well, you looked like you were having fun, so I didn't want to interrupt." Romano only hmph-s and puts the watering can back into its place beside the counter.

"What kind of plant is it?" Antonio asks, out of curiosity.

"Geranium."

"It's nice." Taking a better look at the small plant, it looks fresh and well taken-care-of. "Is this something you like to do?"

The Italian looks at him. "What do you mean?"

"Something you like to do." Antonio smiles. "Like cooking. Something you have the passion in."

"I guess," Romano decides. After a moment of temporary silence, he moves to stand in front of him, arms crossed on his chest and his face turns back to the usual scowl. "So, why are you still here? I told you we'll be fine."

"Can't I?" Antonio teases lightly, his face breaks into a slight grin.

"You can't."

"That's too bad," Antonio pouts. "I guess I'll be taking my leave then."

"Good." Romano huffs, and Antonio laughs at that. However, when he steps out from the door and turns around to say goodbye, the Italian says, hand grips tightly around the doorknob and face red, "T-Thanks for today."

Antonio blinks, and a wide smile spread on his face. Before he's able to say anything, the door is slammed close before him. Blinking again, Antonio chuckles and says to the closed door, "See you, Romano." He can almost picture the man's flushing face just on the other side of the door, and grinning, he walks away.

-colorful wall-

Ludwig is awkward, he admits. And he certainly has never visited a sick friend before. He didn't know what to bring, so he went along with Elizabeta's suggestion. Flowers. And he still can't believe that he had gone to the florist, asked her for flowers for a sick friend, and here he is, with a small bouquet of white daisies in hand, and is still very awkward.

He hesitates for a moment, before lifting his palm and knocks the apartment door. A voice is heard from inside, sounds suspicious. "Who is that?"

"It's…" The person who answers the door is certainly the older Italian, and Ludwig is sure he won't be pleased to find out it's him who's standing before his door. "It's Ludwig."

"What are you doing here, potato bastard?" The door is still closed, and Ludwig starts to feel uncomfortable, if he hasn't to begin with. He doesn't want to start an argument with the older Italian, and one in front of his door too. He starts to consider just putting the bouquet beside the door and take his leave. But from inside he hears the pleading and a bit weak voice he has known so well.

"Ve, fratello, don't be like that. Please let Ludwig in."

"No way in fucking hell, Feliciano! Go back to bed. You haven't fully recovered, you of all people should know that!"

"But you promised, fratello. And I feel better. My cough has ceased a little too. And, and, I want to see Ludwig, ve."

There are another small arguments before the door is finally swung open by one Italian, smiling a weak but bright smile and beaming upon seeing him.

"Ve, Ludwig! You came!" He's leaning back on his wheelchair and his face is still a bit feverish red, but his eyes are shining, and Ludwig is a tad bit relieved to see that. The older Italian is scowling behind him, trying to throw the German a death glare, but can't really pinpoint where he's standing, so he has to be satisfied just with crossing his arms and looking as angry as he can.

"I heard you're sick, so I thought I will pay you a visit. Sorry if I bother you," Ludwig looks down at the flowers on his hand, and trying not to flush, he holds it out to Feliciano. "And Elizabeta told me to bring you flowers so…"

"Ve, flowers! And daisies too!" Feliciano happily receives it, fingers running through the petals affectionately. "Thank you, Ludwig! I really want to hug you right now but I can't because I'll give you my cold, ve. And no, you're not bothering us at all."

"I'm glad that you like that," Ludwig replies, relieved to see the Italian's happy face. Romano grunts and grips his brother's wheelchair's handler, forcing it to wheel around and go inside. "Don't stay outside for too long, Feli. And don't smell the flowers. You're still sick."

"But, fratello, Ludwig…"

"You can fucking talk with him inside," Romano cuts him short. Glaring to the stunned German, he snaps, "What are you still standing there for? Come inside already! If my idiot little brother's illness gets worse, it will be your damn fucking fault!"

Ludwig blinks, before following him inside hesitantly. Seeing that, Feliciano's face brightens immediately and he lets his brother push him back into the bedroom. "I'll take care of these." Romano says , taking the bouquet from his hand and tapping the bed with his other hand impatiently. Feliciano obediently lets his brother helps him up onto it and slips underneath the layers of blanket. Romano checks his temperature with his hand before leaving the room, threatening Ludwig with "Don't you try anything funny, potato bastard," on his way.

"Ve, please sit down, Ludwig." Feliciano motions him with his hand, smiling. The tall man pulls the desk chair and sits down on it, straight and reserved. "How are you doing?"

"Better, ve." Feliciano replies, coughing once. "I'm not coughing as much as yesterday, and my fever has gone down a little. Maybe I'll be working again tomorrow or the day after, if fratello lets me."

Ludwig nods in understanding. "Don't push yourself too hard."

"I don't, ve. Don't worry, Ludwig." Feliciano shifts slightly. "I'm just worried about fratello. He skips work to take care of me. I'm happy for that, but…"

"I understand," Ludwig gives him a reassuring nod.

"Ve, how about you, Ludwig? Don't you work today?" Feliciano gives him a slight curious look from the bed. "But, don't get me wrong, ve. I really really happy that you come. It's just, I don't want you to get troubles because of me, ve." His brows furrow slightly in a concerned expression.

"It's my lunch time, so I'll be fine," Ludwig replies, giving the Italian a reassuring look. "But I'm really sorry that I can't stay for long."

"It's okay. You come, and I'm happy for that, Ludwig, ve." Feliciano chirps happily. Their conversation is interrupted when Romano enters the room. He checks his brother's temperature again, a look of slight relief passes through his face.

"Your fever has gone down," He tells him. "But you still need to rest. We don't need it to get up again. I'll make you something, so what do you want?" He quickly adds, "Not that fucking soup again."

Feliciano giggles and sings, "Grandpa's soup, I want Grandpa's soup. I don't want anything else~" Romano slaps his own forehead, but he doesn't look that angry. "Fine," He groans. "I swear you never get bored with that thing." Feliciano laughs lightly. When he catches sight of the awkward-looking Ludwig, he quickly tugs his brother's sleeve as the latter stands up. "Oh, and fratello, pasta for lunch? Please?"

Romano frowns, "So you want soup and pasta? What a fucking weird combination." Feliciano giggles. "It's not. And I want Ludwig to taste our pasta too."

"I'm not making it for him!"

"Ve, please, fratello," Feliciano pouts. "For me? Pleeeaasseee?"

Romano's mind seems to be conflicting as Feliciano keeps tugging his sleeve and saying "Pleeaaasseeee…."

"Fine!" He snaps, yanking his hand away from his brother's grip. "But I'm doing it for you, not for him!"

"Yaaayyyy! Grazie, fratello!" Feliciano beams happily and pulls him close for a quick peck on his cheek. Romano only hmph-s and shoots Ludwig another glare before he leaves the room, face a bit red. Ludwig looks back at Feliciano, gives him a bit concerned look. Feliciano only smiles. "Ve, don't worry, Ludwig. Fratello likes to cook. He loves it. It's just too bad I can't join him to cook for you today." He looks disappointed. "And I really want you to taste my cooking too."

Ludwig can't bear to see the disappointment in the Italian's face. "You can do it some other day." Feliciano lifts his eyes and gives him a questioning look. The German avoids his gaze, his cheeks tinted a bit pink. "Cook for me I mean."

At the words, Feliciano smiles so wide and literally beams. "Ve, really? Promise, Ludwig?" Surprised by the Italian's reaction, Ludwig's eyes widen. But he regains his composure in seconds. "Really. I promise."

"Yaaayyy!" Feliciano looks truly happy and once again Ludwig finds himself at awe. It is only a very simple thing, let him cook for him. But the cheerful Italian is really happy about it, as though it is something so important. For Ludwig, it's amazing that Feliciano can find happiness in every little things in this life, even in something that looks as unimportant as cooking for a friend.

"Don't yell, you idiot!" Romano's voice is heard from the kitchen as Feliciano falls into a short coughing fit. "God, I swear, I take my eyes off you and you forgot what I told you to!" Ludwig quickly fills the glass on the desk with water from the tap and gives it to the coughing Italian. Feliciano accepts it with a thankful strained smile and gulps the content down.

"Ve, thank you, Ludwig."

"You should be more careful." Ludwig takes the empty glass from his hand and puts it back on the desk before sitting back on his chair. "You're still sick." Feliciano pouts on that, but it doesn't stay for long.

As though remembering something, Feliciano's head shoots toward the window, mouth slightly open. "It's today!" He says excitedly, being careful to keep his voice down. Pulling out from his shelter beneath the blankets, he moves to his wheelchair, shaking his head no when Ludwig offers to help. Putting his finger to his mouth, he grins innocently and says, "Don't tell fratello. He'll be mad that I'm out of the bed."

Ludwig nods, unsure. Feliciano giggles lightly on the sight of his expression and moves his wheelchair to the window. He motions Ludwig to follow and the German leaves his chair, standing beside him as they look outside the window. The Vargas twins' apartment is located across an elementary school. The bedroom window provides the look to the school's courtyard. And it looks like they're holding a soccer match between classes today.

"Soccer~ Soccer~…" Feliciano hums happily, eyes fixed to the starting match. "Good luck, everyone~"

"Do you like soccer?" Ludwig moves his gaze down to his friend. Feliciano nods. "Yep. I like soccer, ve. I used to play it with the neighbouring kids. But now I'm still happy to watch people play."

Ludwig nods slowly in understanding. "Feliciano, have you ever…" He hesitates. This seems too private to ask. The smaller man turns his gaze to him, giving him an encouraging look. Ludwig continues, picking his words carefully. "Have you ever wish to be able to walk again?"

Feliciano nods, smiling his usual smile. "I do. Sometimes. But I never give it much thought, though."

Ludwig nods slowly, letting the answer sinks in. Seeing him, Feliciano chuckles knowingly. "Ve, Ludwig is curious. You want to know why I don't right?"

Ludwig jerks back, surprised. "I-It's…!"

Feliciano laughs heartily. "Ludwig is surprised, ve. I caught you again." Ludwig flushes at that. Feliciano ceases his laughter when he notices his friend's expression, and smiles instead. "I don't give it much thought, because we live with what we have, not with what we don't, Ludwig. So instead of thinking too much or mourning for something we don't have, why not enjoying and treasuring what we have?"

Ludwig is silenced. However, before he's able to answer, Romano's yells from outside indicating that he knows his brother is out of the bed. And sticking his tongue out slightly in a oh-darn-I'm-caught-red-handed expression, Feliciano moves back to the bed, slipping safely underneath the blankets.