Antonio and I were taken to these fucking gorgeous rooms to say our farewells/wills/death wishes to our family members.
I sat in the nicest plush chair I've ever seen in my entire life, and it was very comfy, if I do says so myself.
Sadly, the comfort only extended to my ass. By head was throbbing and my hands were sweaty and disgusting and I probably looked like I could have a shit-tastic breakdown any second.
As soon as the door opened, Feliciano went in sobbing and nearly missed tackling me and almost decapitated himself on the fucking sharp edge of a table, which would've been such a shame since I'd given up my awesome life to save his pathetic one.
"Loooovviiiii!" he sobbed. It was amazing how many vowels he could fit into my name.
"Feliciano," I choked out, since he was fucking squeezing me to death.
The potato bastard had the sense to rescue me again by prying him off of me.
Fuck, that kid had cried a fucking river onto my shirt.
In the record time of twenty seconds.
Elizabeta was there too, sobbing quietly into a handkerchief.
I swallowed and slowly raised my head to look her in the eyes.
"We're practically like family anyway… w-why else would I feel the same feelings for you as I would feel for a sister…so..."
I took a deep breath.
"T-take care of Feliciano. Because I w-won't be there to."
Elizabeta's huge eyes flooded with fresh tears and clasped her hands in front of her mouth.
"L-Lovino… I-I will..." she gasped, and flung herself at me.
I made a strangled noise when the blond Hungarian female abruptly wrapped her arms around me and pressed me against her chest.
"I promise you that your brother will be in good hands!"
"Yur boobs r klling mh!" I tried and failed to exclaim, flailing my arms.
"What's he saying?" Elizabeta asked.
"He says he loves you very much and that you should hug him a little bit more." the potato bastard deadpanned.
"WHAT!" I succeeded to snarl at him – but was then pushed back into Elizabeta's bouncy breasts once again, who kept on sobbing and hugging me until I saw stars and passed out.
…
Yes, I actually passed out. For a second or two.
So?
Don't judge me, I'm not used to having so much smothering female all over me, dammit!
After I recovered from my near death experience, Feliciano reattached himself to me and started another wet pool of tears on my poor shirt.
"Veee~ Lovi... I don't want you to die," he moaned pitifully.
"Me neither." I didn't really know what to say to those fucking heartbreaking kicked puppy dog eyes.
"Promise me you'll win, okay? W-win, and you can come home," Feliciano whispered.
I patted his head. "I'll see how good my Italian war tactics are."
He managed a wobbly smile. "Promise?" He held out his pinky finger.
I almost choked (He was what? Fucking three years old?!) but hooked my trembling finger around his. "I-I promise to do my best."
"Veee~! Best doesn't cut it! You will win for sure!" Feliciano sniffed.
"And I'm the fucking Queen of the World."
Feliciano half giggled, half sobbed.
Ew. Was that snot?
There better not be any disgusting bodily fluids on my shirt, dammit!
"Queen, Lovi?" he asked.
"King, dammit! King of the World! Fuck you, you know what I mean!"
The Peacekeepers started tugging him away and he leaned forward to press one last kiss - what?! - to my cheek.
"I love you, fratello!" he cried before they dragged him away. Elizabeta let out something that sounded like a combination of a sob and "aww!~"
"L-love you too," I choked out. Dammit, I was not going to fucking cry like a baby girl.
The Peacekeeper wanted to kick Ludwig out too, but he was all like, "I'm waiting for my father aka the mayor who could fire your asses" so the potato bastard got to stand stiffly in the corner like a bad little boy.
Stupid privileged rich fat people.
Really, he wasn't fat, all toned muscles and abs and shit, but I'm only saying nice things because I was going to die anyway, you fucking got that?
Anyway...
My next visitor was the mayor himself. He looked like an older version of Ludwig, except his blond hair was longer and he had a regal expression on his face, like he had a stick the size of a pillar up his ass.
All potato bastards are the same, I guess.
Wait. I guess I said that too soon because that's when Ludwig's older brother Gilbert waltz in to proclaim his awesomeness to the world, or at least this fucking tiny but cushy room.
You can tell the Peacemakers were pissed off.
Gilbert didn't have the traditional Aryan looks that his father and brother did, but he was exotically beautiful in his own way (being objective here, perverts!). He had sleek silvery hair and crimson eyes, which marked him as fucking albino, but that fact was never confirmed, and I never cared to ask.
Mr. Beilschmidt made him shut up for a moment while he handed me a package.
"I won't say good luck, but I want you to know that I'll... watch over Feliciano when I can," he said awkwardly.
The ugly accent made it worse.
I opened his gift and I fought the urge to fling it away from me as if it was infected.
It was fucking wurst.
I resisted the urge to fling it away from me immediately as if it were some horrible, horrible disease, which is is according to the food world.
I looked up to see if it was some funny half assed joke, but all the potato bastards' faces were serious.
I mean, it was good quality sausage made from real pork, and it must've cost them quite a bit. My eyes pricked and I bit down on my bottom lip.
I must've been so fucking pathetic that even potatoes pitied me.
I'll throw it away later, since there was no way my Italian palate could stomach German food, but I didn't want to hurt his feelings.
Mr. Beilschmidt patted me on the head and turned to go.
What was I? A freaking dog?
Then Gilbert hopped down from his perch on the table and pointed at me. "You better go in there and be awesome."
I stared at him like he was mental, which he could be.
"And since you are my awesome little bruder's boyfriend's bruder, I will present to you an awesome gift!" he announced, beaming brightly at me.
"Is it more wurst?" I asked warily.
He laughed and ran a hand through his weird but beautiful hair.
Damn that hair. It was like spider silk and moonlight and I fucking wanted to run my fingers through it no to fucking burn it until he was bald.
Ha!
If you say you don't believe me I'll make YOU bald.
...
Anyway...
Gilbert dug into his pocket and pulled out a gold coin... no, a pin. He held it so close to my face that I had to go cross eyed to see it.
It was a circular gold pin, with a baby chick in the center. Wtf?
"It's for good luck, kesekesekese~!" The albino jabbed the pin into my chest- without my warning!- and started to clasped it in place- without my permission!
"Hey! What the fuck-?" I started.
His disturbingly blood-red eyes stared into mine. "It's for good luck and awesomeness, of course! It's specially made- isn't that awesome?- after my first awesome Gilbird died and has my awesome Gilbird on it!"
I scowled, but nonetheless touched my his... generosity. "Thanks," I mumbled.
"Don't mention it. Because I'm the awesome me! Best of luck to you and Anton!"
His father said something in that ugly language - ugh, it grated on my poor ears - and they all turned to go.
I impulsively grabbed Ludwig's collar, and he had the audacity to look a little miffed at wrinkling his shirt - as if he didn't wrinkle mine earlier, dammit!
"Keep Feliciano safe, you hear me? If you ever hurt him I will fucking hunt you down and kill you, Games or no Games," I muttered.
Ludwig considered my near maniacal expression and frowned deeper, but his words were sincere. "I will."
"Then go. Go comfort him." I shoved him away from me, disgusted at the lack of emotions on that stupid Germanic face.
He looked like he wanted to say something, but the Peacekeepers (finally!) threw him out.
Why do Peacekeepers wear white anyway? They look like fucking clones from Star Wars.
Then Sadik walked in and it took all my self control not to burst into tears. He was there, holding me, and I trembled but did not cry.
Like a man!
A manly man!
Yeah...
"I should've volunteered," he whispered into my hair. "I should've volunteered for you."
God, he was so warm and sexy and oh so yummy and why the hell am I thinking all this?
I snorted, glad my tomato red face was hidden from view. "I don't think volunteering for the volunteer-ee is legal. And who's going to feed your family if you do?"
Hmm, he smells kind of like sunshine and spice and citrus...
Do not go there, Lovino.
You're straight, got that? Straaaiiight.
Right.
We were stupid enough - and because we were awkward men - that we didn't say much and it was time for the wannabe snow clones to drag Sadik out.
"Lovino," he called. "Remember I lo-"
Bam! Door slammed into his face.
Damn. Now I never knew what he was going to say.
Maybe it was some top secret trick to staying alive!
...
Really, Lovino. Really. Top secret trick? What was he, a fucking magician?
...
SO.
We were taken to the train station, and Antonio's eyes are glimmering with tears, and they made his green eyes look like pools of sparkly emeralds...
GAH.
I didn't want to see the people saying goodbye to us because they were probably thrilled their own kids weren't chosen to be the pigs sent to slaughter.
The other reason for running/jerky fastwalking to the train was to hide the fact that there were huge damp spots on my shirt.
I didn't want anyone to get the wrong idea, you see.
I mean, there's no way those were my tears, right?
So I snuck onto the train James Bond style~! and into my compartment and I knew it was my compartment because it had my name on it, duh.
It was even more cushy than the room and most importantly: there was a closet.
Gasp!
I opened it and I could've sworn there were birds flying and gay sparkles and rainbows everywhere because the clothes were designer brand names.
I sniffed as I touched the sleeve of an Armani dress shirt.
So beautiful.
After inspecting each article of clothing and wallowing in my love affair of all that is fashion and style I chose a dark green shirt and tight Diesel jeans (Diesel!) that made my ass look fiiiine.
I checked.
In the mirror.
The one with vanity lights.
S-so fucking beautiful.
I-I just wish I didn't have to die so soon! (insert frowny face).
I sighed and kicked my old non-brand name clothes in the corner, and after a moment, retrieved the pin that Gilbert gave me.
But I didn't put it on. It would be a fucking crime to tear two little pinholes into Armani.
It was just the principle of things.
After I was done "acting like a homo so shamelessly!", I went down to dinner.
Then I realized anyone could get fat from all the delicious food that all laid out so fucking beautifully.
And there was Italian food. Genuine Italian cuisine.
Ha!
Good thing I had a freaky high metabolism.
Which sucked when I was starving, by the way.
I barely noticed Antonio already stuffing his face already because a second later I was there stuffing my face like a madman.
I ignored all the weird and colorful appetizers and instead went straight for a pasta dish. It was loaded with cheese and tomatoes and herbs and more tomatoes and a creamy tomato sauce and crushed tomatoes.
It made a difference because it was crushed, dammit!
After I'd inhaled my fourth plate of pasta, I finally calmed down enough to look around.
The only one other than Antonio present was Feliks. He'd changed out of his weird gay-ass costume and was now in a tasteful pink shirt and stylishly faded jeans, and his eyes turned out to be a regular light green and his hair blond.
He wasn't really watching us; he was just perched on an armchair texting someone and making cutesy giggly noises, but he looked up the same time I did.
"Totally glad to see you two at least have some, like, manners," he said approvingly. "The two Tributes last year ate like savages."
Antonio seemed annoyed to hear the smug tone of Feliks' voice. So did I. We looked at each other and dove back into our food, this time minus silverware.
"Try some focaccia," I said, dropping the dish onto his plate. With my hands.
Feliks looked shocked.
'This is great, Lovino~!" Antonio told me right after tearing off a huge bite.
I proudly grinned back at him.
"Heh, I could have told you that much – it's Italian food, the best food there is,"
I ate my food with wonderful orgasmic sounds while eating it, just because it was fun to watch Antonio's face.
Which lit up like a red fat beetroot when I was moaning yummy noises and making obscene tongue movements with the cheese on my pizza.
Feliks pouted at our immature display and sunk deeper into his chair, trying to block out the sound of us loudly chewing and moaning about how great the food was.
I paused and scowled at him. Antonio, not Feliks.
"What?' Antonio asked, blinking, "… do I have something on my face?"
"Don't you always have something on your face?" I huffed, grabbing his collar and pulling his face closer.
"Dammit, you and your 'talent' to eat like a fucking toddler … wait …"
I wetted a finger and pushed it against the red smudge of tomato sauce on Antonio's cheek, rubbing it harshly.
Antonio winced a bit and narrowed one of his eyes, but didn't lose the tiny smile on his face.
"Ah, you're so caring, Lovino…~"
"L-like hell!" I lied, "…I-I just don't want to walk around with an idiot that has got shit smeared all over his face, s-so don't get me wrong!'
"You both totally have, like, shit smeared all over your faces," Feliks cut in.
"If you say one more thing I'll smear this shit over your face," I said threateningly, wagging my tomato sauce covered finger.
Feliks squeaked and covered his blond hair. "Like, don't you dare, missy!"
"Missy?" I repeated with a snarl, holding my fork threateningly, but Antonio shook his head and pointed to the TV instead.
It was the broadcast of all the Reapings from the other Districts. A pair of gorgeous blond boys from District 1, a monstrous boy and a vicious blond girl who volunteered from District 2, a quiet dark haired boy from District 5, a small young girl from District 11, who couldn't have been older than twelve.
They also broadcasted the silent salute from District 12. Damn, I rocked those brandless clothes.
A-and Antonio looked hot as ever.
ANYWAY.
Feliks was scowling deeply because they also broadcasted the scene of him getting molested my Julius Abernathy and his falling of the stage twice.
I cringed when they showed me rolling the asshole off the stage.
Antonio laughed at that, and it was such a pleasant sound that both Feliks and I snapped our heads towards that godly sound.
I huffed. "It wasn't that funny."
"Yes it was," Antonio said. "By the way, you have pasta on your shoulder."
I looked down and saw the strand dangling limply there.
Ew.
I flung it off with a little more force than necessary, and it landed on Antonio's cheek.
Ha.
His eyes narrowed and he flicked a meatball in my direction.
Ah!
I held up my plate as a shield, which saved me from the meatball, but unfortunately meant that I emptied my entire plate onto the tablecloth.
I peeked out from behind my plate just to feel a grape bounce off my head.
I lobbed an orange back.
"Ow! Lovino~," Antonio whined.
The next time I peeked out I got whipped cream dabbed onto my curl.
"C-chigi!" I yelled, my face turning red and I ruthlessly smacked a scoop of ice cream on his forehead.
"Nooo!" Antonio gasped, dropping his head onto the table and smearing his head on the tablecloth like fucking mental monkey. "I'll get a brain freeze!"
I was about to drop an ice cube down his shirt when the door banged open and I could smell the alcohol.
"Hey ... did I miss dinner?" Julius slurred.
"Yes, you drunk douchebag of shit," I grumbled, slinking back down into my seat like the good boy I wasn't.
Feliks sniffed disapprovingly. "Like, if you weren't totally smashed you would know~"
I could see the effort it took Julius to focus his eyes on the blond.
He scowled lopsidedly. "Well, this is what I think of you, you stupid tranny- bhhhhhaaaaaaaaarrrrrggggghhhh."
We all watched, horrified, as his vomit defiled the poor carpet, except we all know that the carpet probably costed more than our whole District put together.
And then he fell in it. His own puddle of shitty grossness.
Feliks finally uttered a little gasp. He looked scandalized. "H-how dare you, like, call me a tranny?" he demanded shrilly, wagging a finger at the unconscious Julius.
That's what he's worried about?
I was about to smack my head on the table, then I realized I would just be suffocating myself in a shitload of cold pasta, so I didn't.