Antonio knocked on the ajar hospital door before opening it and stepping in. Lovino was slumped over a plastic tray holding, what looked like to Antonio, more plastic.

"Looks disgusting," he commented, pulling up his chair from yesterday and sitting down heavily, his legs spread wide apart.

Lovino poked at the heap of Jell-O with his spoon but didn't pierce it or eat it, instead watching it jiggle.

"They said my stomachs not ready for real food," he said sullenly, poking the Jell-O again. "So it's protein powder and Jell-O for now. Assholes," he added, as an obligatory side word meant to convey his low opinion of the nurses and doctors, which it did well.

"Yeah, well, I brought you something," said Antonio, grinning, and he produced a plastic shopping bag and turned it over, tossing the contents onto Lovino's lap. Out rolled half a dozen red, ripe, tomatoes.

"Tomatoes?" Lovino frowned, picking one up and examining it.

"Except this time you don't have to dress in drag for one," Antonio teased, and Lovino's face flushed instantly with embarrassment and rage.

"You- you-" Lovino spat, but Antonio merely held a tomato up to Lovino's cheek.

"See, and now you look like a tomato, you're so red!" Before Lovino knew what was happening, Antonio had snapped a picture on his mobile phone. He held it out for Lovino to see.

"I think that'll make a nice background, don't you?" he smiled sweetly.

"Go shove a cactus up your piss-hole," Lovino snarled. "And while you're at it, let me borrow your phone." He made a grab for the smartphone but Antonio quickly yanked it out of reach.

"You'd just delete it! And we can't have that, can we?" His green eyes sparkled playfully.

"Give it back!" Lovino cried, trying futilely to catch the phone, but because he was so weak, he might as well have been a baby trying to reach the plastic toys that often dangled above their cribs.

"Never! Muahahaha!" Antonio imitated a fake bad villain laugh, tossing his head back so that his dark curls caught the light. He threw an arm over his face like Dracula, but fell off balance and the chair tipped backwards and then slipped, and he fell clumsily to the floor, one arm still stuck out dramatically above him.

Lovino couldn't stop the laugh from escaping, and with it slipped another. Antonio hauled himself upright and blew the hair off his face. Grinning, he sunk into a low, ostentatious bow, enjoying the sound of Lovino's laughter.

Antonio had only heard Lovino laugh like this once before, and he had an inkling that it was a sound not many others had experienced before. It was a rare occurrence, and that made it all the more special and enchanting. He could fall in love with that laugh, with that voice, with the person it belonged to… that is, of course, if he didn't have an obligation to love Emma and only Emma, he reminded himself.

Emma and only Emma. It was a phrase he often found himself chanting in his head whenever he was with Lovino, a futile effort to try to remind himself that Emma was the only person he loved and the only person he ever would love.

However, it didn't seem to be convincing both him and Emma: just last night, when he had showed up late to their date, his eyes red and puffy and his cheeks still wet with tears, she had taken him home and tried to comfort him, meaning that they had had sex. And just when he had been about to climax, he had groaned, much to his later embarrassment,

"Oh God, Lovi-" And then caught himself halfway through. Emma hadn't said anything, but the absence of her usually bubbly demeanor, replaced by a sort of tight-lipped, quiet anger, showed that she had heard.

And yet…

After Antonio had seen the blood dripping from Lovino's mouth and into the sink; the shelf toppling down onto him; had carried his limp and seemingly lifeless body in his arms; had placed his mouth over Lovino's bloody one and breathed into him- when he thought back to it later, he could see that it was the most intimate thing a person could do: give someone else air, practically giving them life, resurrecting them from the dead and into your arms again… since then, he had realized how much he really cared about Lovino and how much it affected him to watch Lovino suffer and not be able to do anything about it.

He tried to console himself that he would react that way to anyone suffering- he had had a long history of trying to help people and even animals out without expecting anything in return, but this… this was different. This was Lovino, and no matter how many times he muttered the old phrase 'Emma and only Emma' under his breath, he couldn't deny that he felt something when he was around Lovino that he had never felt with another person before, not even Emma.

And so he laughed, feeling guilt swill around in the back of his head but unable to stop, not now, not ever, not as long as Lovino was around to tempt and entice and allure him without even knowing how beautiful he really was…

Lovino laughed, his ribs and lungs protesting, screaming, until he couldn't laugh anymore and the pain became too great that he forced himself to think of something boring, like physics class in high school, to calm himself down. His chest heaving, he gulped down air like a fish on land.

"I'm good," he gasped, before Antonio could even ask. Deep breath in. Count to three. Breathe out. Breathe in. Count to three. Breathe out. Repeat as many times as necessary.

Antonio picked his chair back up and restored it to its previous position. Still giggling a bit, he sat down, rubbing the back of his head where it had hit the floor.

"No, but seriously," said Lovino, leaning back against the wall and closing his eyes wearily, a pillow supporting his sutured back, "I really do need to borrow your phone."

"Why?"

"I need to call Roma. Tell him I'm coming back."

"Say you're bringing a friend," said Antonio, handing his phone over reluctantly.

Lovino raised an eyebrow. "You're still going on about that?"

"I wasn't lying," Antonio said, looking more determined than ever. "I'm going with you."

Lovino snorted. "Suit yourself," he muttered, obviously thinking Antonio wouldn't actually do such a thing. He busied himself with pressing numbers and then held the phone to his ear warily. Antonio could hear the dialing tone from where he was sitting.

There was a click. And then,

"Ciao?" a man's voice rang through.

"Ciao, nonno," Lovino said. "Sono io. It's me. Lovino."

There was another click and then loose beeping. Lovino took the phone from his ear and stared at the screen.

"I don't believe it," he said. "He hung up on me. That old bastard hung up on me!" Lovino gritted his teeth and gripped the phone tightly, his knuckles white. His fingers slipped on the sides from sweat. He raised his arm, preparing to throw it, but Antonio quickly wrestled it out of Lovino's grasp. He cradled it in his hands before placing it in his pocket and looking back up at Lovino.

"Godammit!" Lovino yelled, but started coughing, blood splattering across the white blanket and sinking into it, spreading across the white and staining it. Antonio quickly grabbed the bedpan to catch the rest.

Lovino leaned back on his pillows, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, but he only succeeded in smearing blood across his cheek.

"I hate this," he choked.

"Your granddad or being sick?"

"Both."

Antonio digested this information for a moment. "Want a cuddle?" he finally suggested.

Lovino wrinkled his nose as if he smelled something nasty. "Why the fuck would I want that?"

"Well.." Antonio scratched his head, "Because you're sick and your life sucks and I'm very squishy and warm and comforting."

Lovino snorted. "No thanks."

"Or you could sit in my lap and I could braid your hair and read you stories!"

"Yeah, good luck braiding this hair." Lovino reached a hand up and patted the back of his head, then frowned.

"It's gotten longer," he murmured distractedly. "I'll have to cut it again."

"You cut your own hair?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"How do you cut the back? It looks all even and smooth. If I tried to do that, I'd probably just stab my neck."

Lovino shrugged and then stopped. Wincing, he held a hand up to his rib and Antonio figured it probably hurt when he did that.

"I've just been cutting it since I was little," he gasped, still massaging his rib.

"Seriously? Your mom didn't just cut it for you?"

A muscle in Lovino's jaw clenched and Antonio wondered if he had said the wrong thing or if it was just the pain.

"She's not… she wasn't the type to do that," he said finally.

"Oh." Antonio decided to not poke the subject further. "Well," he said, in a false, cheery, upbeat tone, "Why don't you eat your tomatoes?"

Lovino narrowed his eyes at Antonio suspiciously before cautiously taking one and rubbing it on his shirt. He took a bite, still looking at Antonio.

"In the meanwhile, I brought something else," said Antonio, grinning. He pulled a book out of his bag and Lovino recognized it as a copy of Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone.

"You were reading it before," Antonio explained, "And I thought you might like to finish it. I could read it to you, if you like. Where were you at?"

"They're bringing Norbert up to the tower," said Lovino. He pronounced Norbert like 'nour-burrrt' and it was so cute that Antonio didn't bother to correct him.

"Harry and Hermione climbed.." Antonio opened the book and began to read. Lovino settled back on his pillows and closed his eyes, a faint smile on his lips as he ate his tomato.

Antonio turned the last page. He looked up. Lovino had fallen asleep, a half-eaten tomato still in his hand. Careful not to wake him, Antonio plucked the tomato out of Lovino's hand and finished it off, not wanting to waste it. He wiped his hands on his jeans and then pulled the covers up over Lovino so he would be warm. He snored softly, a peaceful expression on his face.

Antonio packed up his things and then, almost naturally, by instinct, he kissed Lovino's forehead lightly. Lovino's nose twitched and Antonio worried for a moment that he would wake, but thankfully Lovino slept on.

At last Antonio managed to pull himself away and left, closing the door quietly behind him.

"You're going to Italy?!" Emma exploded, as Antonio shoved shirts into a suitcase.

"I told you already!"

"But term starts in two weeks! You can't afford to miss it!"

"I told you, I'm going, and that's it." Antonio pressed his weight on the suitcase, trying to get it to shut.

"What about school? What about your grades?"

"He needs me, Ems." Antonio gave one final shove and it closed with a snap.

"Yeah? What about me?" Emma's voice quivered. "My birthday's in a couple weeks- we were going to drive up to the city together, remember? And then dinner at my parents'? What about that? Are you just gonna miss it?"

"I'll be back by then," said Antonio wearily.

"Even then- why are you doing this?"

"I told y-"

"I know what you said!" Emma said shrilly. "But- he's just… just a friend, right? And yet you're going to- to- to fucking Italy for him?!"

"I have to."

"You don't have to do anything! You could stay here with me!"

"You know I can't do that," said Antonio quietly.

"It seems lately I don't know shit about what you're doing- you spend all day at that damn hospital and don't even answer my calls or texts! What do you even do there all day? Each other?!"

"I just read to him!" Antonio swiveled around angrily. "I don't know why you're getting so upset- I'd do the same for you!"

"Exactly! You'd do the same for me, because you love me! So why are you doing all this- and more- for some random kid who made you coffee? What is he, to you?"

"He's just my friend," said Antonio, pressing a hand to his temples tiredly.

"Yeah? Then why'd you say his name the other night?!"

"I didn't- I don't know what you're talking about," Antonio said quickly.

"You know perfectly well what I'm talking about!"

"I- that was a mistake! Just a mistake!"

"How many more mistakes will you have to make? When will you realize that- that- that you love him more than you ever loved me?!" Her eyes filled with tears.

"Th- That's not true and you know it!" shot back Antonio. Emma gave a sob and tears spilled over her cheeks.

"Oh god, Ems, I'm sorry," gushed Antonio, holding out his arms for Emma. She rushed into them, crying into his chest as Antonio held her tight, his lips pressed to the top of her head in a silent kiss.

"I- I know," she sobbed, her voice muffled. "But I can't help thinking it."

Me too, Antonio almost said, but stopped himself. As he held her, feeling her chest heaving against his, he couldn't stop himself from thinking it too.

Was what she had accused him of really true? And if so, what then?

Hello, Liesel here. I just want to add some explanation. I base the characters and their backgrounds mainly on their history, so here's a little history lesson as to why Lovino is so poor when Feliciano is so well off, and Roma's bias for Feliciano, etc.

Basically, the southern part of Italy has always been the poor, farming area. There are some big cities, but are nothing like the ones in the more northern part. In addition, the north and it's numerous cities have always been the center of culture and the arts, wealth and sophistication, whereas the rural South is more just farms, maybe some tourism but not much, and more farms. The Italian Renaissance took place in Northern Italy, particularly Florence, while the South stayed un-cultured and unwealthy. That's why I have Lovino as poor, but hard-working, because that is what the South is like. I wrote Feliciano as indulgent, educated, talented, and perhaps a little lazy, because I think that reflects the spirit of the North.

Also, since the North had more cities, which meant more people, which meant a greater variety of people, which meant more freedom for cultural, sexual, and artistic expression, I have Feliciano written as accepting of his (bi)sexuality. The South, being rural farming country, is more sparsely populated, meaning more narrow-minded people and less room for individualist expression; so I had Lovino struggle with his (homo)sexuality.

One of the main reasons the Italian Renaissance happened in North Italy is because of it's placement over/near Rome. They uncovered many Roman artifacts, including sculptures and art in a more realistic style, prompting the North Italian artists to add more secular basis to their paintings. Beforehand, as you can see in many Middle Ages art, the purpose of the painting was not necessarily to convey human body or landscapes accurately, it was to show the glory of Gd, and as humans/landscapes/backgrounds/etc. were no comparison to Gd, they were overlooked in the cause of religion. However, inspired by the realistic Greek and Roman figures/statures and their newfound cultural heritage, combined with the inventions of canvas, oil paints, and the printing press, they began painting from a more secular, realistic approach.

Thus Rome indirectly nurtured the Italian Renaissance, while the South remained poor, so this is why I have Feliciano written as Roma's favorite, in addition to the actual Hetalia comics/anime, where Lovino/S. Italy reflects upon how Feliciano was always better/smarter/more loved than him.

I hope this provides some insight into my reasoning.

Thank you for reading.