Ahhhh lordy more late updates. This is waaaaay late, sorry guys. Thanks for all your reviews. I'm trying to accept all of your reccomendations, but I just needed to wake Lovino up soon. I don't have a whole lot more planned, it may wrap up around 40k. I'm trying my hardest. Expect an EstLat chapter, too. I've got too many ideas for them that can't go to waste.

Oh yes! I also did some doodling for this story, so if you're interested in seeing my art please visit: rijito(ddot)deviantart(ddot)com(slash)art(slash)hetalia-dump-358646160

Ludwig's socked feet shuffled back and forth across his carpet. He paced up and down his room, trying to figure out what had changed. He'd just come back from Feliciano's house, where he'd had the most amazing and most confusing moment of his entire life. He wasn't sure if the whole thing was a dream, or if he was just in a lucid state of bliss. He'd gone to Feliciano's house that Monday afternoon, on the windy, blustery street. He rang the doorbell, and a tired Feliciano had answered the door. Then… he wasn't sure what had happened next exactly anymore, his thoughts jumbling together as he just envisioned it; He'd kissed Feliciano again. No, Feliciano had kissed him. It was different.

All he knew was soon they were sitting on that ugly floral couch again on the Pepto-Bismol carpet, now looking at each other in a different way. As he looked at the red-head, he saw the length of his eyelashes, the flecks of light reflected in his amber eyes, the tiny freckles that dotted his olive skin, the sharpness of his collarbone. And, if he'd been able to read Feliciano's mind, he'd know similar things were dawning on Feliciano as well.

They'd ended up crashing together once again, this time their teeth clacking together painfully. They both cringed for a moment, then the kiss grew more open-mouthed; however, they weren't kissing obscenely. It was sweet and syrupy and felt heavy with emotion. Feliciano had gripped his sleeves and he'd wrapped his arms around the kid, pulling him closer. The kiss had broken when they ran out of breath, panting and huffing. Feliciano rested his chin in the crook of Ludwig's neck.

Ludwig had swallowed, his mind racing. "F-Feliciano." He'd stuttered.

"Mmm."

"Does this mean we're— you know."

"Together?" The red-head had pulled back from his embrace and looked him in the eyes. "If you… want it to, ve?" He suddenly looked apprehensive. Ludwig's clear blue eyes looked him over.

"I do. Please." Ludwig had moved in for another kiss.

Eventually they'd stopped, their lips red and chapped, and it was pretty obvious what they'd been doing. Ludwig had leaned back, the look of Feliciano still amazing him. He'd gotten what he wanted; he'd fallen in love with this wonderful person, and they'd fallen for him in return.

They'd ended up talking for a while, on the subject of Lovino; he was still in the hospital, and the bills were still being paid, and the insurance was still covering him, and all seemed well except the fact that he needed to get better. Feliciano shared his secret fear that Lovino would never wake up, and that he and his grandfather would lose their house before he graduated and got a decent job. Feliciano wasn't good at many things, preferring to run rather than fight, along with some clumsiness, so he wanted to get a career in art. He explained that he loved to paint and draw. His grandfather—years ago, now— had taught Feliciano how to draw. He just never had the time; with all the homework they got as high schoolers, he hadn't completed a picture since early in his sophomore year. Perhaps he was out of practice.

He told Ludwig that he liked especially to draw in charcoal or pastel; figures were his favorite. He'd once taken a class in middle school when he'd been required to draw figures and simply loved it. He didn't think his art career was going anywhere right now, however, because of all this stress he didn't think he could draw at all. Ludwig comforted him, telling him he'd like to see him draw figures some time.

Feliciano went on to explain how their grandfather had, in a way, picked favorites between he and his twin. He spent time with Feliciano when he was a kid, and not Lovi. He taught the arts to Feliciano, and not Lovi. He picked up Feliciano, and held him in his arms, kissed his cheeks, held his hand. Lovino hadn't gotten most of these things, simple things their grandfather could have done, but didn't. It was almost blatant neglect, if it weren't for the food he was given and the roof over him.

Lovino now found it necessary to prove himself to everyone; an inferiority complex the size of the sun wired into his brain. Feliciano actually felt awful about it; he didn't ask to be the favorite. He loved his brother, of course, and wanted him to be happy. He never wanted Lovi to be upset with him. But Lovi was anyways, trying to assert his dominance over Feli by bullying him into listening to what he said. But sometimes, on quiet summer nights, you could hear Lovi breaking down in his room, trying to understand why Feli was the favorite in the first place.

Ludwig had stayed for a while longer, listening to Feliciano talk about his brother. The red-head's voice had a ring in it that sounded pleasurable to his ears; it wasn't annoyingly high, but it wasn't an average voice either.

Feliciano had worried about him getting home; he hadn't driven his car here, so he'd have to walk home. Ludwig put these concerns to rest, however, when he told Feliciano that it really wasn't any trouble. He had a proper jacket, and it was only starting to get cold out. He already knew his way home from when he'd run home the previous Tuesday; Ludwig cringed when reminded of the chaotic visit.

Feliciano had ended up walking him to the end of the street at least, and had pulled him into a tight embrace when they'd reached the corner. "I love you." He'd mumbled into Ludwig's jacket. Ludwig could barely hear him, but it was all the same. He hugged Feliciano back, resting his chin on Feli's head. with a strained look on his face. How was it possible to love someone like this, if you'd only met them a week ago?

Now he was pacing his room, perplexed at the revelation that he now had a boyfriend. He'd only realized maybe, two or three days ago, that he'd had a crush on the kid, and he couldn't contain himself even a little when it came down to it; he'd kissed the red-head first, and had almost screwed everything up. The whole situation had been a tight-rope. In the end, though, it had been an overwhelming success. In the end, he'd gained something important in his heart.

He wondered why he wanted to kiss Feliciano so badly, but he did.

Antonio Fernandez Carriedo sat in a hospital room where he'd spent nearly the last four days. It was Wednesday now, the week flying by unfairly quickly. Antonio had even skipped school on Tuesday; it wasn't like there was a whole lot for him to do that day as a senior. The whole place smelled of Antiseptic, something his clothes were starting to smell like, and he didn't like that a single bit.

He was there because his best friend (self-pronounced, since the mentioned party would never advocate that himself) had been struck by a car. His crush, in fact.

The brown haired boy who lay on the hospital bed was still hooked up to a heart monitor and one IV; it pumped his blood with vitamin since he wasn't conscious to eat. His face still lacked enough color, and his thin frame looked like wire beneath the sheets.

His greasy hair was wavy splayed across the white pillowcase, curling up in a place where a hair stuck out wantonly around the bandages wrapping his head. His eyes were clamped shut in a fitful and strange unconsciousness, where he'd shifted in pain, perhaps, many times over the last few days. He wore a light blue hospital gown, one he'd worn since it was clear he would need a room to stay overnight. He had olive skin like his brother, but more dark and plentiful freckles scattered across his nose and cheeks. He had dark circles under his eyes that shined a purple-ish color that looked sickly. He clearly wasn't getting enough sleep before the accident.

Lovino seemed to be getting less and less attentive to caring for himself, his personal hygiene suffering, and his diet slipping into something consisting of potato chips and instant ramen. You couldn't call it healthy for anyone. Antonio hated when he got like this; his lips were always worried until they bled, and he picked at his fingernails until they bled too. Antonio examined Lovi's hands; his cuticles were indeed scratched up.

Great, another thing he'd have to yell at Lovi about. He'd approach it carefully, of course, as you had to do with all things around Lovino. There was no telling what the kid could explode on. But Antonio seemed to love him even more for that, endearing qualities surfacing amongst things like that. He needed to get it into Lovino's head that he deserved the best he could get; he deserved love like any other person, even his brother.

He was well aware of the situation with their grandfather; He'd known Lovi for about a year now. He'd once been told by a crying Lovino that he needed to be better than Feliciano because he needed to prove to his grandfather his worth. Antonio had tried to convince him that he didn't need to do that, but of course, the stubborn Lovino didn't believe him.

Antonio had been to the hospital every day for as long as they'd allow since the accident. He'd had nothing better to do, and no one more important than Lovi to visit. He wanted to be there when he woke up, too. He needed to apologize for getting Lovi into this mess in the first place. Call him determined, but he was at a near obsession with getting Lovino better. He'd watched the purple-yellow bruises start to fade slowly from Lovino's arms; they'd become blobs of bluish-tinted skin. He'd waited for the scrapes to close, for the blood to stop flowing. He'd barely needed the bandages now, just keeping them there to keep the scabs from re-opening.

Over all, Lovino looked more alive than he had that Saturday; although he shouldn't be there at all, thought Antonio.

He was sitting by the side of the bed, looking out the window now. He watched as the sun sank, the day had moved on. The sky was just starting to get a gradient look about it; dark blues tinged the corners and the edges around the trees and buildings. Everything outside looked paler than it had throughout the day. Antonio sat back, watching the heart monitor beep slowly; probably a bit slower than it should have, but it was okay. At least there was a pulse, right? The green line on the machine spiked every second or two, making a very quiet sound in the room. Lovino shifted on the bed. Antonio stayed, however, his leg starting to fall asleep. He tapped it to wake it up again, starting a funny rhythm.

All at once, the heart monitor sped up. The heartbeats started coming faster, and faster, until it was frenzied; Antonio looked up, confused. He grew panicked as Lovino shifted on the bed again. The white sheets rustled and Lovino's face had changed; the muscles were no longer slack as he held some color in his freckled cheeks.

Antonio suddenly grew worried; maybe his condition was getting worse. He had no idea how skull fractures worked, maybe it was worse than they thought; maybe it was fatal. God, he tried not to think about it. He stood up, placing a hand on the side of Lovino's face. The boy's hand moved—god, now Antonio was getting it.

He was waking up.

Shaky hands traced the side of Lovino's face. Lovino's brow knit together, and he heart monitor grew more stretched out; the beats seemed healthy again. His eyes opened a little; just a crack. Antonio sat down on the bed next to him, admittedly frightened if Lovino would be alright.

They seemed to hover there, at that moment, for a prolonged period of time. Lovino remained in a semi-conscious daze; his watery eyes were half-open. It felt like hours; the monitor became more and more regulated, the heartbeat was louder, stronger this time. Lovino's face scrunched up, his eyes stayed mostly shut.

With a deep exhale from Lovino, and in turn a deep inhale from Antonio, Lovi opened his watery eyes. They were red and puffy, and not the least bit good-looking. The bandages wrapped around his head were pressing his dark brown hair to his forehead. He looked dazed; not particularly focusing on anything. Deep inhale, deep exhale.

"L-Lovino?" Antonio heard his own voice call the brunette's attention.

The reaction seemed to be delayed. Lovino didn't do anything for a moment. The gradient blue of the sky in the window reflected on the surface of his eyes. Then his vision shifted, over to Antonio, who was hovering over him. They immediately made eye contact; Lovino at first didn't process what he was looking at. His mind felt sluggish. The gears in his head started to turn, his mind slowly—slowly…!

"What the… hell… get off of me." A cracked voice pierced the air. Lovino's breaths hitched, his heart sped, as Antonio pulled his body into a hug. A breathy laugh; Antonio was shaking.

"Lovino! Lovino. You're awake!" He shook still, pulling back, his hands sliding across Lovino's cheeks as if to check that he was real.

Lovino couldn't really respond—after his initial reaction, his mind was still fuzzy. He couldn't remember getting into this room—actually, he couldn't remember becoming unconscious at all. He couldn't remember anything past school on Friday, actually. What day was it?

"Antonio… where are we?" His voice was still weak and quiet. He found himself having much less energy than he anticipated. He grumbled, and winced a bit. "Get… off of me."

Antonio just pulled him to his chest. "Lovino, I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry! We went to the coffee shop together—remember? And then there was a drunk driver, and I was gonna get hit so you—" Everything came rushing back to Lovino, all at once. He remembered going into town with Antonio, feeling a little insecure because Antonio was so sure and confident. He felt a little stupid now, looking back on it. He remembered parking in the lot at the bookstore, having to walk across the street to the coffee shop in the cold. He remembered a white car heading straight for them, on the right side; the side Antonio was standing on. He remembered pulling Antonio out of the way and—oh god. Oh god.

He visibly became a little freaked out. "A-Antonio. D-don't be sorry! You're so stupid." God, didn't Antonio understand that Lovino was just looking out for him? "You don't have to make such a… big deal out of it."

"Yes I do! Lovi, you've been unconscious for four days! You're hurt, and it's my fault, and god I'm an awful friend."

Wait. Four days? "Where are we?"

"In the hospital! You fractured your skull, a-and broke your legs, and your wrist!" Lovino looked down; One of his legs was entirely encased in a cast, the other just had it up to his knee. His wrist was in a cast as well—this one encased his entire hand and up to his elbow. Just how badly had he broken it?

"G-god Antonio. You're more of an idiot than I thought. I'm more of an idiot that I thought." He brought his clammy left arm up around Antonio's shoulders.

Antonio quieted him. "I'm s-so glad you're awake. Lovino!" Was Antonio… crying?

Lovino just quietly clasped his arm around him. Nurses down the hall were beginning to notice his waking up; there were two women and a man rushing into the room, not before pausing when they saw Antonio wrapping his arms around Lovino's waist, his head in the crook of Lovino's neck. They stood in the doorway for a moment, letting them embrace.

jESUS what a crappy ending. Gomen, gomen. w/e, pls review.