Antonio visited Lovino almost every day until he was released from the hospital a week and a half later. He was still quite sick, but he was taking up a bed which someone else needed, so grudgingly, they checked out of the hospital.

"Are you sure you're feeling okay?" Antonio asked Lovino for the eighth time as they trudged through the thick layers of snow coating the ground. Lovino grunted through his many layers of clothes; Antonio had showed up on his release day with a coat, two sweaters, a scarf, a hat, gloves, three pairs of socks, and his old pair of boots.

"What was that?" Antonio tilted his head towards Lovino.

Lovino pulled his scarf down off his face with a scowl. "I'm-" he broke off to cough, doubling over, his hands on his knees. Antonio placed a hand on his back as he coughed, watching nervously.

"I'm fine," Lovino finished.

"Are you sure? Like, 100% sure? 110% sure? I could call a cab-"

"For fuck's sake, Antonio, I'm fine!" Lovino straightened up, forcing Antonio's hand off of him.

"Really? How are your ribs? Your back? Does your chest still hurt?"

"Can we just go? I'm freezing my ass off!"

"You're cold?! Do you need my coat? I brought an extra scarf- just a minute.."

"Oh my god," Lovino groaned, starting to walk ahead. At the sound of Lovino's footsteps crunching on the snow, Antonio looked up from his bag.

"W-Wait for me!" he called, hopping after Lovino one-footed, for one boot had gotten stuck in the snow. Lovino trod a few more paces and then stopped. He crossed his arms, looked down at the ground, sighed, and then turned around and helped Antonio get his shoe back on.

"Alright, are we good?" he asked irritably, in the manner of a parent who has grown tired of their child's whining. "I don't want to be late."

"I know, I'm sorry…"

They continued walking, heads down, hands in their pockets, marching through the thick snow. The walk to the airport was just a little under a mile now, but it was hard work wading through the snow in heavy, sodden clothes.

The sound of Lovino's labored, heavy breathing mixed with the wind and it was a while before Antonio realized he couldn't hear it anymore.

Panicked, he looked around and spotted Lovino about twenty or so feet behind him, bent over, one hand on a knee, the other grabbing onto the ledge of the window of a nearby building, holding him up. As Antonio approached him, he could hear a loud, whistling, wheezing noise coming from Lovino. His coughing sounded like coins rattling in a vending machine and Antonio ran as best he could towards Lovino in the knee-deep snow.

"Lovi!" he yelled, but the wind stole his voice. Finally he made it to Lovino, just as Lovino's gloved hand, which had been clutching the ledge for support, slipped. His body went weak and he fell, almost straight into the snow, but Antonio rushed forward in a surge of adrenaline and caught him.

"I really think this is too much for you," he berated Lovino, but received no answer. Keeping a strong hold on Lovino, he pulled him away in front of him and attempted to stand him up, but Lovino's legs wobbled as if they were made of jelly and he collapsed again. Lovino coughed and choked and hacked and wheezed and gasped and panted but couldn't seem to be able to regain his breath.

"They said this might happen," Antonio warned. "Hypothermia can leave lasting effects, remember? And the mold isn't completely gone yet."

"I'm- fine-" Lovino wheezed.

"No you're not!" said Antonio, pressing his hand to Lovino's sweaty forehead. "See, you've still got a fever. I don't care what the doctors say, I'm taking you back to the hospital."

"I can't-" Lovino broke off for air and then continued, "I can't miss the- the f-"

Antonio considered that for a moment. It was true he couldn't miss the flight; it had been scheduled for him and if he did, he'd have to deal with the government, which would not be pleasant. Lovino hadn't even been conscious when the Immigration Court had ordered him deported.

"Fine," Antonio grumbled, obviously not happy about it. "But you have to tell me if it gets too much." He stuck out a hand to help Lovino up.

Embarrassed, Lovino took it, still coughing, and Antonio hauled him roughly to his feet, but he was still weak and somehow ended up pressed up against Antonio with Antonio's arms around him, holding him up.

"Why don't I carry you the rest of the way?" Antonio offered.

Lovino was too exhausted to protest or even be embarrassed, and clambered onto Antonio's back like a child.

"Alright, here we go," said Antonio, and stood up, hooking his arms under Lovino's legs to support him. Lovino put his arms around Antonio's neck, feeling his face grow warm but embarrassment, but he was too tired to care. It was a nice feeling, being on Antonio's back, feeling his muscles ripple under his stomach, soaking up the warmth that emanated from him. Lovino only hoped that Antonio wasn't able to feel how fast his heart was beating, but if he did, he didn't comment, just continued plowing forward through the snow.

Lovino rested his cheek on Antonio's shoulder bone. He drunk in the scent of Antonio, closing his eyes satisfactorily.

Maybe being sick isn't so bad, he thought.

Antonio stopped suddenly, forcing Lovino to open his eyes reluctantly.

"We're here," said Antonio, and as he spoke his vocal cords and chest vibrated under Lovino. Antonio crouched down and Lovino slid off. Antonio handed him his bag.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice full of concern. "Can you walk?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," said Lovino.

Together they made their way through the airport. Antonio had to stop sometimes and wait for Lovino, but they managed to get to the plane in time.

They boarded together, and Antonio let Lovino take the window seat. Lovino's hands were shaking and he was very jumpy, on edge. Antonio wondered briefly if he was just ill or scared of flying, but when the plane started to take off, Lovino was clenching the seat so tightly his knuckles were white.

"You okay?" Antonio shouted over the noise, but Lovino just gritted his teeth, his eyes squeezed shut. His face was slightly green.

Finally they got into the air and the plane steadied out, but Lovino still stubbornly grasped the seat rests.

"Lovi, it's okay," Antonio tried to reassure him. "The plane isn't going to crash or anything." But as soon as he said the word 'crash,' Lovino took a sharp breath and clutched at his cross hanging around his neck, one hand still on the seat rest. Lovino's lips moved soundlessly, and Antonio realized that he was praying wildly, his voice barely audible over the plane's roar.

A middle-aged woman stopped past them as she made her way up the aisle.

"Nervous flier?" she asked, smiling slightly. She was rather round, but in a pleasant gathered, plump, way, as if her excess weight were a favorite shirt or scarf.

"Yeah." Antonio smiled back at her.

"You two are so cute," she said. Antonio's smile dropped and he looked quickly at Lovino, hoping he hadn't heard, for fear of him going into a murderous rampage, but he was so absorbed in his praying it didn't seem he had even noticed the large woman standing beside them. When Antonio turned his head, she was gone.

Slightly perturbed, Antonio settled back in his seat and opened up his book. However, to his annoyance, he found he couldn't concentrate; Lovino's incessant praying was bothering him.

He tapped Lovino on the shoulder gently. Lovino looked up, but continued muttering under his breath.

"Could you maybe… you know.. take a break?" Antonio suggested mildly.

"Good idea," said Lovino, to Antonio's surprise. "You can take over for a while."

"W-What?"

"You can pray for a while, I'm getting tired," Lovino explained.

Antonio breathed a tiny laugh and shook his head. "No- you don't have to pray, Lovi, it's fine. I'm sure the pilot has it under control."

"We're in a giant metal bird- what do you think is keeping it up? Air?! If I don't do this, we all die!" Lovino gestured wildly, nearly knocking the book out of Antonio's hand. It was obvious he was very stressed.

"No, actually, air is holding us up, along with propulsion and the engines," Antonio explained.

"Yeah, right," Lovino scoffed. "Air. That's what's holding us up."

Antonio blinked. "D-Didn't you take physics?"

"I slept through it. And all my other classes. I told you, I dropped out." Lovino yawned, not bothering to cover his mouth with his hand.

"Why?"

"Roma was too old to work, so I started working full-time instead of just part-time. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a plane to fly." Lovino turned his head sharply, crossed his arms, and resumed his prayers.

Antonio watched him for a moment, stunned but also, somehow, cheerful. That answer was so sarcastic and brusque and just so… Lovino, that it joyed him. Lovino opened one eye, peering at Antonio.

"Stop looking at me!" he complained. "I can't concentrate when you look at me like that."

"Sorry, I just.." Antonio scratched the back of his neck, a little embarrassed. However, Lovino seemed to be feeling the same, a rosy color that hadn't been there before tinting his cheeks as he stared determinedly at the gray, mundane wall of the plane.

Antonio buried his face in his book, but couldn't resist looking up every few minutes to watch Lovino, and then quickly hide his wandering eyes with the novel whenever Lovino moved.

For the fifth time, Antonio looked up, only to see Lovino staring back at him. Lovino's face flooded with color as their eyes connected, and he looked down, ashamed, but Antonio was just as embarrassed as him.

"Sorry," he said quickly, but just then, the plane seemed to have hit a bump in the air and as Antonio was buffeted an inch or so off his seat, he heard a shriek and then felt a pain in his arm. He looked down, the plane still practically vibrating. Lovino was clutching his arm, terrified.

"Shit, Lovi, it's okay," Antonio tried to ease him, but the plane jolted forward again. Lovino squeezed his arm tighter. Antonio could vaguely hear him whispering "oh God oh God oh God."

"You gotta pray," Lovino said breathily, still clawing Antonio's arm for comfort. "Just me isn't enough."

The intercom turned on and they could hear the pilot breathing for a second before, "We are experiencing some turbulence. Please stay in your seats."

"See?" said Antonio. "Turbulence. Not an act of god. You're fine."

"Don't say that, you'll make him angry!" The plane lurched again. Lovino's nails dug into Antonio's skin even through his sweater. He looked down and realized that he was holding onto Antonio.

"G-Get off me!" Lovino cried, seemingly coming to his senses. He shoved Antonio away.

"Wha- you were the one that was clinging to me!"

"Do you smell that? It's the stench of lies."

The plane jolted and Antonio found himself shouting out as well as Lovino. They clutched at each other desperately.

"S-See," said Lovino shakily, but accusingly, "You're scared too."

"Yeah, but-" protested Antonio, his teeth chattering. "But it's scary!"

"So get your act together and f-fucking pray, you beanpole! Or else we die right now!"

"We're not goi-" Antonio started, but the plane gave another jerk upwards and he felt himself being lifted off his seat a couple inches, restrained by the seat belt, and then fell back down onto the chair.

"Okay, fine, I'll pray," he said quickly. "Dear, um, Jesus," he started, feeling stupid.

"You can't just say 'Jesus!' That's impolite! Use more respect or else he gonna kill us right now."

"Dear, uh… Mr. Jesus..?" Antonio corrected. "Is that okay?"

There was a pause. The fact that Lovino was seriously considering this made Antonio smile weakly.

"Yeah. Better," Lovino mumbled.

"Okay… Mr. Jesus, please don't kill us? And fly this plane? So we don't die… and stuff?"

"I'd slap you, but I don't want to get stupid on my hand," Lovino muttered.

"I heard that!" Antonio admonished, but he wasn't angry.

"So you can hear, dumbfuck."

"I'm not a dumbfuck!"

"You're the dumbfuckiest dumbfuck to have ever dumbfucked, you dumbfuck. If you pulled your head out your ass and maybe looked around, you'd be amazed what you can see."

"What did I ever do to deserve this?" Antonio raised his eyebrows mockingly.

"Being born, for starters. Now let go of me, creepmonger."

"You were the one-" Antonio said, but Lovino had extricated himself from Antonio and it was only when Lovino tore his hand off his back that he realized he had been holding Lovino tightly as well, instinctively.

"I- sorry.." he mumbled, looking at his hand, confused. By the time he looked up, shaken out of his trance, Lovino was back in his own seat praying. The plane had steadied out and there was no more turbulence. Antonio picked his book up off the floor of the plane and began to read, vaguely hearing the soft hiss of Lovino's whisper-breath as he prayed.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the plane landed with a bump. Antonio escorted Lovino, who had a slight case of jelly-legs after the long flight, off the plane. Lovino wordlessly led him through customs and Antonio waited as he met with the immigration officers. They got on a bus and rode for two, maybe three hours. Lovino stared mournfully out the windows, ignoring Antonio as he relentlessly badgered Lovino with questions about the passing scenery.

"What's that? The sign says 'supermercato,' does that mean supermarket? Oh, and that building next to it- there's this symbol- oh wait, no, it's Chinese, sorry, nevermind.."

"Shut up," Lovino grumbled. "You're annoying me worse than my brother."

"I can't help being excited, I've never been to Italy before! And it's not as if you're doing anything anyway."

"Unlike a certain idiot, I am actually capable of thinking with my mouth closed, so yes, I am doing something, and you're interrupting me. So shut up before I castrate you." Lovino closed his eyes wearily and leaned his head against the cold window, his arms crossed.

"Watch yourself, or you'll burst a blood vessel," Antonio mocked.

"Shush," Lovino commanded, lightly smacking Antonio's cheek with the back of his hand.

"As you wish," said Antonio impudently. But he found it hard to keep his mouth shut, with so many interesting sights passing outside his window. As they passed a farm, he recalled an old Marlowe poem he had memorized in high school.

"Come live with me, and be my love;" he recited. "And we will all the pleasures prove That hills and valleys, dales and fields, Woods, or steepy mountain yields."

"The fuck does that mean?" Lovino interrupted.

"It's a poem. 'The Passionate Shepherd to His Love.'"

"And?"

"And what?"

"Why are you all of a sudden blurting this out?"

"The scenery just.. reminded me of it, I guess. It's about the beauty of the countryside," explained Antonio.

"Sure, whatever," Lovino snorted. "Just keep quiet."

"Don't you want to listen to the rest?" And then, before Lovino could answer, Antonio continued, "Here's some more:

'And we will sit upon the rocks, Seeing the shepherds feed their flocks By shallow rivers, to whose falls Melodious birds sing madrigals.'"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," huffed Lovino, tossing his head angrily, his hair rising up and catching the light before settling back down across his forehead. He impatiently brushed it away from his eyes. Antonio found this whole act mesmerizing and he momentarily forgot the rest of the poem as the image of Lovino, bathed in golden-brown sunset-light, his skin and hair and eyes gleaming in the light, every gorgeous pore illuminated and highlighted to perfection, burned into his retinas.

"What?" Lovino snapped, jarring Antonio out of his reverie.

"Sorry, you just- you look pretty in the light like that," said Antonio before he had even realized; that same contradictory feeling of being tongue-tied yet unable to shut up when he should hitting him just as hard as it had been the first time he walked into the coffee shop and say Lovino- bored, irritated, and so mind-bogglingy beautiful it should be illegal.

"Yeah, well, you- you look nice too," Lovino shot back as if it were an insult, his face red. "I- I mean, nicer than usual, which isn't saying much, since you usually look as if you were spawned from a trash can," he corrected himself.

"Right," Antonio said casually, but he couldn't stop himself from smiling so wide his cheeks hurt.

"How- How does the poem end?" Lovino mumbled embarrassedly, his face turned away. His ears were red. "I'm just bored, you know, and that's why I'm asking," he added quickly. "Otherwise I wouldn't be interested."

"Of course." said Antonio lightly. "Let's see, it's… ah, yes. 'And I will make thee beds of roses, And a thousand fragrant posies; A cap of flowers, and a kirtle-"

"What the hell is a kirtle?!"

"It's a type of skirt, I think. Anyway: 'A cap of flowers, and a kirtle Embroidered all with leaves of myrtle- that's a sort of plant I think," Antonio said quickly, before Lovino could ask. "'A gown made of the finest wool Which from our pretty lambs we pull; Fair-lined slippers for the cold, With buckles of the purest gold;"

"A belt of straw and ivy-buds, With coral clasps and amber studs; And if these pleasures may thee move, Come live with me, and be my love."

"The shepherd-swains shall dance and sing For thy delight each May morning; If these delights thy mind may move, Then live with me, and be my love."
"Huh." said Lovino slowly, digesting that information.

"Good, right?"

"A bed of roses would be pretty uncomfortable, as would a hat and skirt made from flowers. And impractical, they would just die and then you'd be naked."

"A good point."

"It's completely inaccurate. Farms aren't that easy."

"Oh, yeah, you lived on a farm, right? One with all the little sheepies and cowsies and horsies?"

"Sheepies?" repeated Lovino sarcastically, his nose wrinkled in disgust.

"Yeah! When I was little, I always wanted to live on a farm and get up early and ride horses bareback through the wilderness and milk cows and herd sheep and feed chickens and.."

"It wasn't that kind of farm," Lovino said sharply. "No animals."

"Then what kind was it?"

Lovino rested his head against the window, his cheek to the glass. "You'll see," he said eventually, his face turned away from Antonio so he couldn't read his expression.