Arthur continued to stare at the young man lying in the bed, while he sat in a chair, waiting for him to regain consciousness. Just from where he sat, he could see the young man was very poorly fed, his skin pulled tightly over his bones, showing every single angle. He examined the boy's hands and arms to find them so thin, he could nearly wrap his thumb and first finger around the thickest part of his forearm. Arthur was willing to bet that he would probably be able to see the teen's ribs; not that he would ever invade the young man's privacy to check. He let his eyes come to a rest on the Italian's (Or at least he thought he was Italian, maybe Spanish) face. There was unmistakable beauty in the smooth plains of his lightly tanned face, even with the toll that lack of proper food had taken from his body.

"A real beauty," he murmured to himself, resting a hand on the young man's cheek.

He almost couldn't believe that this was the thief that had sent him sprawling into the dirt; he looked so small and weak. But it was obvious this young man had strength, just from the look in his eyes, Arthur could tell; he was tougher than one would think. He was also clever, although luck seemed against him. That burning defiance in his hazel eyes, even when he was in danger, never faded but only grew as the fear grew. It was interesting.

"What use would you have for a book?" He asked the sleeping body, startled when he began to move.

"Ugh," the young man groaned. "Fuck..."

"Please, refine from cursing." Arthur frowned.

The man jerked up, scrambling as far, and fast, away from him as he could until he bumped into the wall. "What the hell?"

Arthur sighed, watching the man's eyes flick quickly over the large room before settling his eyes on Arthur. For a moment, Arthur was surprised by how calm the stare was, but what he didn't know was that Lovino was deciding whether he should or shouldn't tackle him to the ground and run, or even worse, use the knife he kept in his pocket for protection.

"Explain why I'm here, bastard," he ordered, watching Arthur warily.

"Well you tried to steal my book and was caught by that creepy brute who knocked you unconscious. I then picked you up and took you to my home," he said patiently.

"I figured that much out, asshole. What I'm asking is, why didn't you just leave me?"

Arthur blinked at him, not sure why he did help him. It's not like Arthur was a good Samaritan, and he most certainly didn't make it a habit to befriend thieves, or fowl-mouthed, ill-mannered young men. And this teenager was both.

"I don't know," he said, scowling at how stupid he sounded.

The man's lip curled in disgust. "I don't want your damn pity."

"And you don't have it." He eyed the younger man with carefully practiced indifference, and said, "We haven't properly met."

"No we haven't, and I don't care," the other growled.

"My name is Arthur Kirkland." He held out a hand towards the man across from him, only to withdraw it quickly when he saw the other's whole body tense.

The Italian glared viciously at him, not saying a word, just staring at him. He couldn't help but feel unsettled by the way those eyes captured his every move. They seemed to be waiting - no, challenging him to do something. What they were expecting, he had no clue.

"Romano."

Arthur blinked at him. "What?"

"My name, you stupid fuck." He eyed Arthur distrustfully.

He glared at 'Romano', not believing him for a second. "I do not like being lied to, boy."

The young man's eyes lit up with surprise, before a smirk curled on his lips. "You're a smart bastard. How could you tell? And I'm nineteen, fucker, and call me 'boy' again, I dare you," he threatened.

How did I know? Uncertainty was not a feeling he experienced often (if ever), and he loathed the feeling of it. "You're too clever to tell me your name that easily," he said after a long pause, celebrating the somewhat sensible explanation.

A scowl took over his features. "I'm not clever. If I was, I wouldn't be here."

"Why?" Arthur couldn't help but ask.

His scowl deepened, already finding reasons to dislike the bastard in front of him. "None of your business, eyebrow bastard."

"I would prefer if you called me by my name, little thief." He frowned, his patience was wearing thin rather quickly.

"You can take your name and shove it up your ass where it belongs."

"Listen here, you little fuck, I am trying to be civil towards you," he growled, standing so quickly his chair it fell back. "Now give me your name."

The man smirked triumphantly at him, not phased by the explosive display of anger. "Finally."

"Finally what?" He fist clenched at his sides.

"You're acting real."

All his anger drain from him, replaced by curiosity as he stared at the younger man in front of him. "Explain."

Lovino leaned his head back against the wall, watching him. "That cold, indifferent mask you're carrying around."

He frowned, but knew what this stranger was talking about. But how he had seen through it, he wanted to know; only his closest enemy could see past it. "I see," he said as he set his chair back up.

The strange young man glanced at the window to find the sun setting. "Shit," he exclaimed as he scrambled off the bed.

"What's wrong?"

"I'm leaving."

"So soon?" He asked, sounding surprised, only to kick himself for letting himself sound like that. It's not like he could stay, could he?

The young man's eyes flicked to him, watching distrustfully. "Do you not realize how dangerous the streets are after sunset?"

He didn't really know, but no doubt, they weren't exactly pleasant. "Then stay the night," he offered, startling himself, only to convince himself it was the gentleman in him talking.

"No." The young man grabbed the sack that Arthur had placed at the foot of the bed. "I'll take my chances."

"Why risk it if you know something bad might happen?"

"Because I'm not clever," he said simply, heading to the bedroom door.

"Why?" Arthur followed after him.

Lovino growled, this bastard asked too many questions for his own good. "None of your damn business, asshole." He traveled along the hall to another, then another and another.

A sigh sounded from behind him. "I'll show you out."

He turned and reluctantly followed the blond-haired man in a different direction, only grumbling mild insults under his breath. He picked up speed when he finally spotted the way out.

"I can offer you a carriage."

"I don't want it. Tell me how far I am from the damn market."

Arthur explained that he was many miles from the market and with the fading light, he wouldn't make it to the market by that time. Lovino let out the most frustrated sigh he could manage. 'The things I do for that idiot,' he thought.

"Who?" Arthur startled him out of his mental spacing.

Shit, I said that out loud. He quickly said, "No one. Let me borrow a horse." And gestured to the stable he saw not too far away.

"You can ride?" Arthur asked.

He hated the look of surprise that Arthur gave him. "Wipe that stupid look off your face, just because I'm not fucking rich doesn't mean I don't know how to ride a fucking horse."

"It's just... Follow me," Arthur said as he led him around the large house.

Arthur's estate was bigger than he originally thought. In the fading light, he could see not too far away a forest started. He had a good idea where he was on the map in his head and with a horse, he could make it to Feliciano in a short amount of time, but that would mean he would have to come back. Great, just what I need, he'll probably have me arrested.

"Hey, Ladrón," Arthur nearly yelled at him to get his attention, resorting to recalling the few words of Spanish he knew.

"What? Why are you talking to me in Spanish, and 'Ladrón' isn't my name," he growled.

"So you are Spanish? And I would call you by your name, but I don't seem to know it," Arthur snarked at him, holding the reigns of a lovely dapple-gray horse.

Embarrassment welled at the bottom of his stomach. "Shut up, fucker. I'm Italian," he growled, swinging up into the saddle. It had been six years since he last touched a horse, hopefully he could still ride. "I'll return her tomorrow."

"You better, she's my favorite." Arthur stared up at him, making him shift uncomfortably. He hated being stared at.

"Why the hell would you give me your favorite horse? I know you're not stupid, but really? You're letting a thief borrow your favorite horse?" Lovino glared at him.

"Yes," he answered, as if it were that simple.

"Why?"

"Because I'm not clever," Arthur threw his own words in his face.

His glare grew more heated, annoyance radiating off him and his voice as he said, "You're a real bastard."

"So I'm told."

Lovino huffed and kicked the horse into a walk, getting use to the familiar gait before picking up the pace into a full gallop. Leaving Arthur to stare after him.

"Looks like I finally have something interesting to look forward to," Arthur whispered to the cooling air.

...oOo...

When Lovino finally arrived back at the barn, the sun had long slipped under the horizon and the moon had just begun to rise. He jumped from the horse's back, carelessly tying it to a rotten post, before hurrying into the barn to his sibling.

"Feliciano," he called warily, expecting his brother to start yelling and crying about how worried he was.

A hoarse voice came from their bed, "Lovi..no..."

That does not sound good. Fuck! The gods must hate me. He rushed over to his brother's side, nearly tripping over some wood, and pressed his hand to his sibling's forehead. "Mio dio," he whispered. Feliciano's fever had returned with a vengeance, making his entire body burn with internal fire.

Lovino grabbed the bucket, thankfully it still had water in it, and dipped a tattered rag into it, then pressed it to his little fratello's hot skin.

"Where...were you?" Feliciano coughed weakly.

"Mi dispiace, mi dispiace," he murmured repeatedly, horrified by his own inability to help.

After many moments, Feliciano fell into a fitful sleep, leaving Lovino to wallow in his guilt. He tried to convince himself that he was atoning for his uselessness by caring for his brother while he slept, but that did nothing for the deep self-loathing that slinked into his thoughts, slowly eroding any thoughts of being a good brother and coated every thought with blame.

'You're a bastard! If you had been here, maybe he wouldn't be so sick like this, or he at least wouldn't have gotten this bad again! Terrible brother, Feliciano deserves better than this fucking shit,' he berated himself ruthlessly. Even if, he had gotten there at his usual time, Feliciano still would have been half delusional with fever. Why? Because Life's a bitch like that.

Lovino stayed like that all night, sitting beside his brother's bed, pressing a cool cloth to his heated skin. He had slipped off all of Feliciano's clothes to help cool him down, but the fever was persistent and wouldn't leave his body just yet. And by morning, Lovino was completely exhausted, so worried by his younger brother's state of health that he didn't remember the horse he had borrowed until he made a trip to the stream for fresh water, and by that time it was late in the morning.

"Fucking horse." He glared at her, but all she did was flick an ear dismissively at him, not bothering to raise her head from munching on the sweet, overgrown grass. "I bet Felici would love you..."

When he returned inside, found Feliciano blinking dully at him. "How are you feeling?" He tried not to sound too concerned.

"Thirsty," Feliciano rasped.

He quickly dipped a cup into the water and brought it to his lips, giving him a long drink. "Better?"

"Si, grazie," he answered, his voice sounding a little cleaner.

"Do you think you can eat?" Lovino found the bag that held the left over bread and tomatoes, only to remember the sack with the round of cheese that he had thrown to the side when he rushed in last night.

Feliciano gave a tired nod, tearing off a bit of bread and chewing slowly. Even sickness couldn't stop the smile that spread weakly across his face at the still semi-fresh bread. It wasn't long before he began tearing hungrily into the half loaf, accepting the slices of cheese Lovino offered him.

He watched silently as Feliciano ate, taking nothing for himself and ignoring that pangs of hunger in his own stomach, or the nagging fatigue that was giving him a headache.

When Feliciano finished eating, Lovino simply held out a tomato that he longed to eat.

Taking the red fruit and biting into it, Feliciano asked, "So what happened to make you stay out so late?"

"Nothing important. Did you press your body too hard again? Is that why I came back to find you nearly crazy with fever again?" He settled Feliciano with a stern stare.

The younger winced, and said weakly, "No..."

"Don't you dare fucking lie to me," he growled.

"I... All I wanted to do was clean up a little and be useful," Feliciano burst out.

"Dammit, Feliciano!" He bit his tongue before he continued, taking a deep breath through his nose. "What do I always tell you?"

"Rest, rest, rest. I know, fratello," Feliciano whined, pouting like a child.

"So listen to me, dammit! I don't tell you these things just to hear my own fucking voice!"

His sibling hung his head guiltily. "I know...Sorry..."

"You better be, or I might not show you the surprise," Lovino's voice took on one of its rare playful tones.

Feliciano looked up at him curiously, but the look of weariness never left the lines of his face, and the light that had always glowed in his amber eyes had dimmed. "Surprise?"

He nodded. Smile, please, smile. "Wait here," he said softly. One of the perks to living in a barn, it was easy to bring in large things, or animals in this case. Lovino opened the door wide enough for the horse before he walked out to the mare. She looked up at him expectantly, and followed him as he led her inside.

"A pony," Feliciano gasped, honestly surprised by the horse now standing in the middle of their living space.

The mare blinked at him and leaned down to snuffle the bare foot that poked out from underneath the blankets.

"Hey!" Feliciano giggled and quickly pulled his foot back under the covers. "How did you get her?"

"I'm just borrowing her and I have to return her soon, but I thought I might as well show her to you," he grumbled, patting the horse's rump.

She sniffed the hand Feliciano held out to her, lipping his palm softly. "That's sad, she's a sweet horsey."

Lovino nodded, watching closely as the horse brushed her nose against his sibling's cheek, letting himself smile when Feliciano giggled again and patted her cheek.

"But you didn't answer my question."

He frowned; Feliciano was having one of his rare moments of extreme seriousness. "What?"

His little brother looked up at him, amber eyes never leaving his face. "How did you get her?"

"A strange turn of events."

Feliciano suddenly smiled. "Things are turning around for us, don't you see?"

"No. How did you get that from a fucking horse?" Lovino gave him a confused look.

His smile widened, like it was obvious. "Well, the person who let you borrow this horsey must really want you to come back."

There was a stunned silence, before Lovino burst out laughing, leaning against the horse as he laughed himself silly. "You really are stupid," he said once he recovered from his fit of laughter. "He let me borrow her because I can't steal such a beautiful animal."

"I am not stupid!" Feliciano pouted. "And I know that he wants you to come back."

"Whatever. I'm taking this fucking horse back before the sun gets any higher in the sky. You are not to move, unless you need to piss, got it?" He ordered.

Feliciano nodded weakly, staring sadly at the horse and gave it one last pet, and said, "Arrivederci, Miss Horse."

He rolled his eyes. "I'll be back soon. If you get hungry eat some cheese or tomatoes. I know you probably still feel like shit, so try to sleep and I'll be back as fast as I can."

Again, he nodded and sent a small reassuring smile his way. "I'll be fine, fratellone." He knew that he wouldn't exactly be fine; he could still feel the sickness raging inside him.

Lovino slowly nodded, scowling his usually scowl to hide the concern growing even large in him. "Alright. I'll see you soon," He said before leading the horse out and closing the door. Hauling himself into the saddle, he set off at a steady trot. He avoided all the main roads, they were likely to be crowed and poor boys didn't last long on pretty horses like this one, and used only the ones he knew would be less traveled, even if it meant getting there would take longer.

Translations:

Ladrón (Spanish): Thief

Fratellone: Big Brother

Fratello: Brother

Fratellino: Little brother

Updates might come much faster. I've already started on the next chapter. Thank you for reading.

-Windy