Lovino slowly opened his eyes and then shut them instantly: a generic rectangular fluorescent ceiling light was right above him, burning his eyes. After a while, he opened his eyes a crack and attempted to sit up, but as he moved a sharp pain in his chest forced him to lay back down again.

"Lovi!" Antonio's voice rang through Lovino's head painfully loud, and even after Antonio had finished speaking the sound still echoed in increasingly metallic tones until there was just a long, high pitched bleeeeeep that finally faded away. Antonio must have seen the discomfort and pain, for he said hurriedly, and quieter,

"Sorry, was that too loud? Did it hurt? They said you'd be in pain for a while- why aren't you opening your eyes, are you okay, Lovi, are you-"

"I'm fi-" His throat felt like gravel had been poured down it and he found it hard to speak. Even his vocal cords weren't cooperating and it came out in a quiet rasp before he burst into coughs.

"Here." He heard the coarse sound of a chair scooting closer and winced, his head ringing again, and then he felt something wet on his lips and realized it was water; he opened his mouth to lap it up eagerly but it poured down his throat and he started choking.

"Oh, shit, sorry- um-" He felt Antonio's hands, strong and firm but yet amazingly gentle pull him to a rough sitting position. Lovino apprehensively opened his eyes now that the light wasn't directly above him, but the room was still too bright for comfort and hurt his head. He tried to lift a hand up to it, but it was too heavy and barely moved. However, Antonio seemed to understand and turned the light down to a dim setting.

"Thanks," Lovino mumbled, but it only made him cough again. Antonio quickly fetched a plastic bedpan from the foot of the bed and held it under Lovino's mouth to catch the blood. Several dull thuds like raindrops on a roof sounded as blood and mucus landed in the pan and Lovino flinched with each one, feeling pain in his ribs, chest, lungs, throat, head, and even back as he did so.

"How are you feeling?" Antonio asked quietly.

"Like shit," Lovino answered truthfully and, groaning, he started to let himself fall back down into a laying position.

"No! Wait- Lovi- don't-!" Antonio said, getting up so quickly he knocked his chair over with a loud crash that reverberated in Lovino's head. Lovino wondered what he was talking about, but then he hit the hard hospital bed and knew; a sharp, piercing pain sliced through his entire upper back, feeling as though he had just been knifed- he let out a loud, sharp yelp from the pain and Antonio quickly covered his mouth with his hand to hide the sound. Smaller, muffled screams slipped through Lovino's lips, getting increasingly quieter as the seconds ticked by slowly and the pain subsided back into a dull, constant beat, leaving with only his gasping breath and a cold sweat that coated his body.

"There are stitches on your back," Antonio said once Lovino had calmed somewhat, taking his hand off his mouth. "From the shelf and the bottles."

Lovino looked confused, so Antonio said again, "The- the shelf..? Remember?"

Lovino tried to shake his head, but it hurt when he moved it and it only urged him to cough some more. Antonio held the bedpan under his chin and Lovino spit out the blood when he was done, grimacing. Every breath he took hurt, and when he coughed his chest and throat ached and tore.

Antonio sighed. "They said you might not remember- you have a really bad concussion. You were trying to run away from me, but you had 104° fever and were delirious. You tripped over a broom, I think, and grabbed a broken shelf for support. One of the legs was wobbly, and it fell on top of you. Then I," Antonio grinned rakishly and flexed his arm muscles mockingly, "lifted the shelf with my bare hands and rescued you, fair Lovino, my damsel in distress."

"I'm not a damsel," Lovino croaked, starting to cough again; luckily the pan was still under his chin. "Nor am I in distress."

"A shelf fell on you, and several glass bottles that were on the shelf broke on your back and head- I think that's pretty distressing, don't you?" Antonio replied, still grinning.

"And you are a damsel; a princess, my poor Italian princess locked in a tower of coffee and homophobia. And I rescued you and carried you in my arms, and we rode off into the sunset together on a white pony!"

Lovino scowled. "You're ridiculous," he huffed, and tried to roll over onto his side, facing away from Antonio, but yelped in pain. He felt Antonio's hands again, gingerly lifting him back onto his back and settling him on the pillow gently. Under Antonio's touch, the pain seemed to drain out of Lovino, replaced by something else; a giddy, hot sensation, and when Antonio lifted his hand Lovino almost wanted to grab it and pull it back down on him, have Antonio never let go so he could feel like this, always…

"But my poor, poor princess," Antonio continued softly, and Lovino opened his mouth to tell him to stop calling him a princess; he was a man, for fuck's sake and men shouldn't treat other men like that, it was just weird and wrong and sinful, but he couldn't speak, for Antonio was gazing into his eyes with such intensity Lovino worried he might just melt,

"A horrible spell was placed on him, which broke his ribs and pierced his back, and it will only be lifted by the prince's magical kiss." He waggled his eyebrows impressively. "Guess who the prince is," he grinned, and Lovino's heart skipped a beat… he could feel his face growing hot, and something inside him squirmed pleasantly.

"S-So kiss me then," he said, trying to sound defiant, like he didn't care.

"Very well," Antonio said, not losing the same air of pretentiousness he had maintained throughout his fairy tale, and sat down on the side of Lovino's bed, placing his hands on either sides of Lovino's shoulders, lowering himself so slowly Lovino wanted to grab his collar and pull him down, but he couldn't move, he could only stare as Antonio's green eyes got closer and closer… Lovino closed his eyes, waiting, his heart practically thumping out of his chest… he could feel Antonio's breath tickling his face… and then he felt it, Antonio's lips on his- his cheek…

Antonio gave him a quick peck on the cheek and then drew back. Lovino could feel the disappointment rising in his chest and throat, as if he had swallowed a stone, and he was tempted to grab Antonio's face and try again, make him do it right…

Antonio's face was still hovering right above Lovino's, and he was filled with the sudden urge to punch it. How dare Antonio trick him like that- how could Lovino let himself get so careless; he half wanted to punch himself for falling for Antonio's prank, yet his heart was still beating fast even now that the experience was over.

Antonio's green eyes met with Lovino's own, and then he grinned and Lovino felt his heart leap and couldn't suppress a gasp- Antonio was beautiful, so beautiful, and God Lovino wanted him so bad that his chest hurt, and then the pain reminded him just why he couldn't have Antonio, why he had to bury what he felt right now so deep he would never feel again.

"Get off, you bastard!" Lovino yelled, his throat and chest aching in protest, and he summoned all his strength and shoved Antonio off of him and then threw the covers over his head, hiding himself, for he could not bear to look at Antonio or to have Antonio look at him.

From beneath the blanket, lost in a tangle of thin, off-white fabric, Lovino heard Antonio sigh, pick up his chair, and then, of all things, laugh.

Lovino felt a twinge of annoyance join the dulling pain in his chest.

"But seriously," Antonio said, his voice in a tone of seriousness Lovino had rarely heard before, "We need to talk."

Lovino didn't answer. He knew what was coming: 'why didn't you tell me,' 'I could have helped,' 'you're such a coward,' why coward afraid cowardwhyafraidwhywhyhelpwhycowardwhy…

There was a rustling above him and he opened his eyes as Antonio pulled the cover off his face, exposing him once more.

"We're waiting for the results of your CAT scan right now, but they're already pretty sure what your problem is. You've been out for a while, so I thought I'd bring you up to speed. Basically, two of your ribs broke from the shelf falling on you, and there was a large gash in your back from the broken bottle. Then,"

To Lovino's amazement, Antonio got out a pad of paper. Lovino lifted his head slightly, his back aching, and saw that it was notes: Antonio had taken notes from the doctor's lecture. Lovino would have laughed at his dorkiness if it hadn't hurt so much.

"Then," Antonio said again, a finger on the paper, "You have really, really bad hypothermia- they were amazed you survived this long, but sometimes, apparently, when people get really cold, it kind of… preserves them, you know? Like hibernation, sort of. And that's what they think happened to you- it looks as if you've had hours of exposure, yet periodically you kept warming up, presumably from work, and then you'd go back to almost freezing to death and then warming up again." He looked up from his notes and saw the confusion and fear on Lovino's face.

"Like," he said, trying to explain, "You'd get so cold you were on the brink of death but it sort of preserved you long enough to get to a warm area, and that just kept happening over and over. It basically run down your immune system, your body- even some of your organs. And then, as if that wasn't enough," Antonio flipped the page and perused his notes,

"It looks like you have pneumonia. Of course, they can't tell for sure until they get the CAT scan results back, so we're just waiting."

Lovino closed his eyes wearily but Antonio continued, his manner slightly less upbeat than it was before.

"And.." Antonio faltered. "I wish I didn't have to tell you this, but.."

"But?"

"You- You're getting deported. Back to Italy."

"W-What?" Lovino croaked, trying to sit up on his elbows, but it hurt too much and he had to lay back down instead.

"But!" Antonio added so quickly and loudly it hurt Lovino's ears and head, "I'm coming with you."

"What?!"

"Yeah- as soon as you get discharged, I'm gonna get a plane ticket too so you won't be alone in Italy. I'll be your… er, your moral support, I suppose, and I can help you work things out with your grandfather!" He puffed out his chest impressively.

"Why?" Lovino snorted. "Why would you ever want to do that?"

"Well, you- you're my friend," Antonio said, looking a little offended. "So I want to help you out. And it sounds like your grandfather could use a talking-to."

Lovino laughed again despite the pain in his chest. "You can't give my grandfather a 'talking-to.' He's 87 and doesn't speak English."

"And that's why," Antonio fumbled inside his bag for a moment before pulling out a small pocket book, the words 'E-Z Italian' written in yellow letters on the front, "I'm learning Italian! And you can help me."

"You want me to teach you Italian when it hurts just to say the word Italian?" Lovino said disbelievingly, but instead of it having the comic effect he had intended, Antonio's brows furrowed in concern and he looked genuinely afraid.

"W-What? It hurts to speak? Doctor! Doctor!"

"Fuck, Antonio, it's-" Lovino broke off, coughing. "It's fine," he rasped, spitting out blood, but as he did so, a medical student and a man in a white coat hurried into the room.

"What?" asked the medical student, looking both excited to be working but afraid as well for her patient.

"He- He says it hurts to talk," Antonio explained, shooting a glance at Lovino.

"Oh. Yeah. That's to be expected," the doctor said, and procured a clipboard from the medical student behind him. "I have the results of the CAT scan back, and it's definitely pneumonia. One of the worst cases I've ever seen." He glanced at Lovino over his glasses and under his gaze, Lovino shrank back, subconsciously pulling his blankets up to his chin like a frightened child.

"Specifically, you have bacterial pneumonia, so you'll experience symptoms like a high fever, chills, pain when you breathe, fatigue, pain in your chest and abdominal area, short and rapid breathing, and coughing up mucus. In addition, you're suffering from malnutrition, so while you're here we'll work to bring that up."

"But that's not all," the doctor continued, sounding like a devious game show host who found Lovino's illness a form of entertainment, a corner of his mouth twitching up towards his mustache, "You've also got severe pulmonary aspergillosis."

"Wha-" Antonio started to stand up, looking as if he were both about to either burst into tears or start a fistfight, but the doctor shushed him with an air of pompousness.

"Basically there's mold growing in your lungs- have you lived somewhere that has lots of mildew and moisture and generally bad sanitation?"

"Yeah- the shelter," Antonio answered before Lovino could even open his mouth.

"Yes. Well," the doctor flipped the page over, "You must have breathed in a spore or something, and now there's mold growing in your lungs. This seems to have exacerbated the symptoms of pneumonia, but what we're really worried about is if it's the type that gets into your bloodstream. If it does manage to get from your lungs and into your bloodstream, and if it already has, it can be fatal because then it can go on to infect your major organs. And the risk is doubled for you because you have pneumonia and were suffering from severe hypothermia, which took a big toll on your organs and, most importantly, your immune system."

"We'll need a blood sample, to see if it's in the bloodstream, and if it is, we'll need a blood transfusion." He lowered his glasses and looked directly at Antonio.

"What blood type are you?" he asked.

"Me?" Antonio pointed at his chest, as if there were many others in the room to whom the doctor could have been speaking. When he got no answer save the cold gaze of the doctor, he replied,

"I think I'm an O..?"

"And you?" the doctor turned to Lovino.

"I- I don't know," Lovino confessed, and coughed twice into the bedpan still under his chin.

"Well, we'll find out soon enough. Mary," he snapped, and the medical student who had been standing dormant beside him snapped into action.

"Yessir?" she said, as if in the army, and Lovino half expected her to salute.

"You've practiced blood samples before, haven't you?"

"Yes sir, but only on dummies and guinea pigs." She played nervously with the small ID pinned to her coat lapel that identified her as a medical student.

"How would you like to try one on a real patient?"

"Really?" she gasped, her eyes sparkling. "I mean- if it's okay with you, Mr.." she rose up on her tiptoes to peek at the doctor's clipboard, "..Mr Vargas?"

Lovino tried to say no, but was interrupted by a particularly bad coughing fit and couldn't answer.

"Great," said the doctor brusquely, rubbing his hands together. "First, Mary-"

"The antiseptic," she said, already rubbing at Lovino's arm furiously with a tiny wipe. "And then the rubber band." She tied a strip of rubber around Lovino's arm, cutting off his bloodstream and forcing his veins to pop out.

"Now, you'll feel a little poke," she warned, and then jabbed the needle into his arm.

Lovino howled angrily.

"Does it hurt? Do you wanna hold my hand?" Antonio asked worriedly.

"Fuck no! And I'm fine, just-" he glared momentarily at Mary, "startled, that's all," he finished. Antonio made a grab for his hand anyway and Lovino attempted to smack him away.

"You don't need to hold my hand," he hissed.

"I do, I'm scared of needles," Antonio whimpered and grasped Lovino's hand with such force one of Lovino's knuckles cracked. Lovino rolled his eyes, feeling his face grow hot, but he didn't have the strength, in more ways than one, to pull away. After what seemed an eternity, Mary and the doctor left, leaving Lovino alone in the room with Antonio.

Antonio waited a moment before asking quietly, "Can we talk?"

Here it comes, Lovino thought, and bracing himself for the onslaught, he nodded slightly.

"You've had hours of exposure, so bad that you almost died- how? Weren't you living in an apartment? Did it not have heating?" Antonio tried to sound innocent and curious, but he couldn't keep the accusation out no matter how hard he tried.

Lovino closed his eyes, chewing his lip. How could he get out of this one? There was nothing he could say that wouldn't just ascertain the fact that he had lied. He didn't want to see those big sad puppy eyes of Antonio's when he learned that Lovino had lied, hadn't trusted him, had rebuffed him in so many ways that Antonio didn't even know of…

"I... " Lovino desperately searched himself for some plausible reason that wouldn't be blatantly false, but with all his experience in lying, for once he couldn't think of one. "I lied to you." he admitted finally, unable to look Antonio in the eyes. "I was... I didn't have anywhere to go, so I.." he trailed off.

"Why didn't you come to me? I could have- could have-"

"Could have what? Hid me under your bed?"

"I could have done something, which is better than what you did! You almost let yourself... you almost- almost-" Antonio was unable to finish the sentence. Choking back tears, he thrust his arms around Lovino's thin shoulders, sitting on the side of the bed, his torso twisted awkwardly so that he could hold Lovino.

"You almost died!" he sobbed, burying his face in the delicate curvature of the gap between Lovino's neck and shoulder. The familiar scents that meant Lovino both comforted and saddened him.

"Shit, Antonio, it's okay," Lovino wheezed, still struggling for air, but Antonio just dug his face in harder, feeling the soft cartilage and then the bone, sticking out perhaps more than it should.

"N-No it's not!" he wailed. "You- you could have died from hy-hypothermia and m-m-mold in your lungs and you still could die if they d-don't…" Antonio broke off, dissolving into tears. The only thing that kept him grounded was Lovino, his scent; his skin; his hair, tickling his nose; his lean back under the hospital gown that Antonio was clutching into.

"Oh god, Lovino.." bawled Antonio. "I don't know what I'd do w-without you, mi amor.."

He didn't even realize he had said it, but Lovino stiffened under his grasp.

"W- What did you say?" he croaked, but it was lost under Antonio's sobs.

Finally Antonio calmed somewhat and wiped his nose on Lovino's sleeve, much to Lovino's disgust, but when he tried to berate Antonio he broke into a coughing fit and couldn't continue.

"You… you never said anything." Antonio sniffed, rubbing his bloodshot eyes. "Why didn't you tell me? I could have helped.." Antonio folded his hands together in his lap, looking down at them solemnly. "Do- Do you not trust me?" His voice cracked.

"No- I-" Lovino found it hard to look at Antonio and instead focused on the medical sink on the other side of the room with the leaky faucet. Every 14 seconds a droplet of water dripped down into the smooth, rectangular, metal basin.

"I just.."

I just can't trust you, because you made me fall in love with you, and then you told me you had a girlfriend.

I was embarrassed.

I didn't want your help.

I didn't want you to see me like this.

Lovino had no clue what the best option was. "I just find it hard to trust anyone. I'm sorry."

"What am I to you?" Antonio asked, the question taking Lovino by surprise and he struggled to think of an answer that wouldn't give away how he really felt.

"I- I don't know," Lovino admitted.

"Aren't we friends?"

"I... suppose we are…"

"Then why can't you trust me?" Antonio demanded.

"I just- I can't trust anyone- after Feli-"

"After Feli what? Did he tell Roma?"

"Yes!" Lovino's shoulders shook. Fuck, he was giving too much away, he should have just kept quiet- but now he couldn't stop.

"And then Roma… when he found us, he said we wouldn't have to be alone anymore… and now he- he won't even speak to me!"

"Lovi.." said Antonio quietly. He reached his hand out and placed it gently on top of Lovino's, but Lovino quickly moved his away.

"D-Don't look at me!" Lovino cried, wiping his eyes furiously, but stopped suddenly when he felt Antonio place an arm around his shoulder and pull him in close to his chest. His hands, of their own accord, crept up Antonio's back and he clung to him like a baby. He started to cry harder; huge, heaving sobs working their way up his throat, and hated himself for it, for showing such weakness in front of Antonio, for not being able to let go.

"It's okay," Antonio whispered. "You don't have to be alone anymore." Silent tears dripped off his cheeks and wet Lovino's hair.

"R-Really?" Lovino sniffed.

Antonio stroked Lovino's hair. "Yeah. Really."

A foreign buzzing vibrated against Lovino's stomach and he jumped, startled.

"Sorry, that's me," Antonio wiped his eyes and nose on his sleeve and drew back, pulling a slim black smartphone that was buzzing wildly from his shirt pocket. He pressed something on the screen and then held it up to his ear.

"Y-Yeah," he said, trying to sound as if he hadn't just been crying. Lovino gawked at him for a second before quickly rubbing the tears off his cheeks. He turned his head to the wall, trying to look as if he were very interested by a switch on the wall and not listening to Antonio's conversation at all.

"Antonio?" he heard a tinny female voice on the other end. "Where are you? I've been waiting twenty minutes in the snow for you!"

"I'm sorry- I'm at the hospital right now-"

"The hospital?! What happened? Are you okay?" Lovino could hear her voice rise hysterically in pitch.

"No, no, I'm fine," Antonio reassured her hastily. "It's not me. It's Lovino."

There was a pause.

And then: "On my way."

"No need, Ems- I was just leaving anyway," said Antonio, already pulling on his coat, switching his phone into his other hand so he could put his arm through the sleeve and then returning it to the original hand, swinging the other sleeve on.

"Are you sure? Because I can-"

"It's fine. Really," Antonio said, winding a scarf around his neck. "Will you be okay?" he mouthed to Lovino.

Lovino nodded, closing his eyes. When he moved his head so fast, his vision jiggled up and down and blurred together, making him nauseous. He waved his hand frivolously, as if to say, 'go.'

"Thanks," Antonio mouthed. He left.

"I'm leaving right now. Love you, Emma." His voice carried down the hall along with his distant footsteps.

Lovino allowed himself to sink down in his bed, inch by inch until he was laying down again, so gingerly that there was only minimal pain in his back.

Mi amor. Love you, Emma. Mi amor. Love you, Emma. Mi amor. Love you…

Lovino turned his head and vomited off the side of the bed.

Seven hundred people experiencing or at risk of homelessness are killed from hypothermia annually in the United States. Forty-four percent of the nation's homeless are unsheltered.

It is a very real and dangerous problem that often is not properly addressed. Many shelters, like the one Lovino was staying at, can only foster a person for so long. Others may only be open during the night.

Many of the chronic problems faced by the homeless people, including inadequate clothing, malnutrition, and underlying infection, further increase the risk of developing and dying from hypothermia.