Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

It was cold enough to shiver.

Of course his air conditioning would break today of all days. Today that he has to spend practically all of it in this stupid, old car, not to mention how he has to drive some guy somewhere first. Apparently he's Italian? Alfred had heard Europeans have better manners, so maybe at least it won't be a problem to him. Or not one that'd be voiced.

Hopefully.

The guy hadn't told him where Alfred was gonna drive him, so that wasn't a good start, but surely it's just a European thing.

At least after that he's heading back to Canada. Say what you want about living with parents, free meals are something Alfred greatly missed throughout his whole stay in another country. Also, he's finally meeting with his brother again, whom is usually the one paying when they hang out. It's been quite lonely without him.

Ever since Matthew moved out, Alfred found himself counting days to holidays, the rare times they'd meet. He'd even caught himself hoping to be invited to his brother's hockey trainings. That always happened rarely, mainly because Matt's teammates weren't too fond of his presence. He also couldn't attend Matthew's actual games, as he didn't have enough money for it. Being unemployed is nice, but becomes a struggle after a while. Thus why he had to move to a country nearby just for a job. Won't even mention how he paid only half of the rent as he didn't have enough money for more. His parents began to refuse paying for his cravings ever since he turned to adulthood, unfortunately, so the fact they agreed to this was a miracle on itself.

So yes, he was looking forward to home. Still, he'll miss America. Maybe he was kinda starving and isolated himself from peers a little bit, but he'd enjoyed it in the end. Who needs friends anyways, it's not like the contact would last after he'd come back home. That sounds corny, pull yourself together dude.

Loud music blasted through the speakers. Alfred wasn't sure who the artists was, but their songs slapped, so obviously he'd added them to his playlist. If he had to guess, he'd heard dad play it a few times and just adapted to it. Music taste was something he certainly inherited from him. Not like it's a nice thing though. Thankfully, there doesn't seem to be much other correlation between them.

That couldn't be said for Matthew, who was a copy of their papa, basically. The fact they look blood related aside, many of their passions, clothing and music taste, all align. In this case, Alfred should've took over his dad then, shouldn't he? Wrong. He's nothing like any of his family members.

Anyways, back to driving. Someone honked at him cause he'd been standing in one place during green light… Great. Well, the destination is close enough, and it's not like he'd be any late because of one little mistake. Alfred glanced at the time.

Oh.

Oh no.

An hour difference doesn't make much of a problem, does it? Surely an Italian wouldn't have a problem with it. Yeah. He's from Europe after all.

It was cold. It should be cold. His coat was too light for the weather, not to mention how uncomfortable it was. Old, raggedy. Its texture bit his skin in an infuriating way, not helping with the sickly pain of his arms and, to be honest, all rest of his body. He wasn't even sure whether it belonged to him or not, which only added to the fuel.

Exhaustion was making itself clear, muscles sore, head hurting. Maybe the latter was from all the screaming, both his and the others, but he wasn't sure. He didn't care. That bastard deserved all that had been done to him, possibly maybe even more. For a bit he cursed himself for not going further, but he's too tired, too done with it to attempt to get back. What's done is done and he won't waste his time sulking over it.

It should be cold, but it'd felt like the middle of summer. Summer in which you're forced by your younger brother to come along to a beach on which he has some stupid date he hadn't told you about and all you're left alone with is trying to seem okay with it, either staying on the side, flirting with other girls to seem cool, or making excuses to leave. Or make your brother's partner leave, which is usually most tempting.

The bag in his hand slipped, making him stumble over the sidewalk in an attempt to catch it. Probably looked like the worst idiot out there.

The road was full of people, it's not like everyone wasn't able to mind their business. Still, he felt the glances thrown at him, the dirty stares everybody gave him. The kids, the parents, the couples, heck, even the nasty dogs people carry around for whatever reason. He knew how stupid he looked, they didn't have to remind him that at each step. Soon enough the road felt slippery, leaky, stinging. He knew his shoe quality wasn't that great, but to feel every single hole?

This day went to shit. He'd been planning on doing this for weeks now, but to get such a response? His heart ached. He'd thought maybe he would be faced with a lie, no Lovino I would never cheat on you, I love you! And then he'd have to show him the proof, show him he isn't a wimp breaking down over few sweet words, show him he's smarter than given credit for, but that didn't happen. First thing that bastard did was confirm, heck, he was proud of it. Proud to have hurt another person in such a way. Never before had Lovino felt so pathetic.

Oh what is he talking about, he isn't hurt! Only a weak ass would feel any remorse for themselves. He was going out with an idiot, this was the only ending he could've gotten. It was obvious and he knew it.

Everyone knew it, even his idiotic younger brother and worse, that potato bastard from Germany or whatever. They all knew, they all told him and he knew it too yet it's come to this in the end.

Poor, weak, slow Lovino, once again all by himself. An ending he knew would eventually come knocking to his doors. Something he agreed upon.

So why is he feeling so bad? Why is he feeling betrayed? His stomach twisted at just the thought of ever wanting to be affectionate with that bastard. Ever trusting him.

Stupid.

He was stupid. Him, this god awful country, relationships, family, everything.

Right, family.

He should've called his family. He had a life in Italy, people that knew of him. But would they really help? Right, of course they wouldn't. No one misses him, half probably had already forgotten who he was. And maybe that was a good thing. Lovino never left anything after himself that was in any kind positive, he knew that and had accepted it a long time ago.

He really had no choice. This really was the end.

It'd be better if his family just assumed he were dead. Then they would never have to worry over him again. Then they could all focus on Feliciano, something all of them all his life pretended to not have wanted.

He reached the end of the road, being faced with an empty field full of yellow grass, the snow not making its way to America yet. Everything looked so depressing, the empty trees, the stressed people who forgot to buy gifts for their loved ones, the dirty streets. The alarming amount of the homeless running around, trying to stay alive with the realisation they are nothing but a failure.

Life has failed them and they were left with nothing more but staying on the street, fully knowing everybody aches at the sight of them, even if for the most part, they haven't done anything wrong.

Where the hell was that taxi driver? They agreed on an hour, Lovino was the one showing up late yet the other person was not to be seen anywhere. Had he gotten scammed? Hopefully not, all his left savings were just for this trip. Stupid, of course some jerk from the internet wouldn't be professional, what was he thinking? This is America he's talking about.

After long minutes of standing in one place, receiving dirty glances and little kids pointing at him, the described to him over text car finally pulled up. It looked much worse than how he'd imagined, but that just goes with the cheap price, doesn't it? It was dirty and had obvious even from a distance dents over one of the doors. The rest of it looked pretty okay, maybe even expensive.

He wanted to pinch himself, but the car's driver was now waving at him through the opened window with an overjoyed grin. Lovino sighed, making his way towards the American, whose face grimaced once he did so, not slickly looking him up and down with disgust. Or so it was evident he was as Lovino didn't have the guts to look at his face. He could feel the stare and it was all he needed.

God dammit, does everyone have a problem with rusty clothes? It's not like half of the teenagers he passed by looked any better, yet people didn't seem to have such a problem with them.

Entering the car, neither of the men's frowns disappeared. Lovino was glad the driver had turned off whatever punk music he'd been blasting that could be heard word to word from the distance. He had heard a big chunk of loud noise that day already.

He felt the driver looking him up and down in the mirror, taking short glances. At the very least, he stayed quiet, the Italian very thankful for that. Last thing he wanted was one of those drivers who had made being extroverts their whole thing. Being able to talk to people is nothing to be proud of. Most of so called social butterflies are simply loud and annoying in reality. His little brother was like that too, and that infuriated Lovino deeply. Living with Feliciano was hell, the moment he had the chance to move out it'd felt like a blessing.

His breath skipped a bit at the thought of his brother. He wonders, how is Feliciano? What is he doing right now?

Will he miss Lovino?

He won't, definetly won't. Feliciano has his own life, a career, soon maybe even a family. He wouldn't have the time to notice his stupid brother was gone. And if he would, he'd be more happy than anything. Lovino is simply doing his family a favor.

"Rough day, huh?" the driver broke the comfortable silence, noticing Lovino's lips trembling, the grimace on his face more pathetic with each passing second.

"Shut up and do your job, idiot" Lovino scoffed, crossing his arms and looking away from the small mirror, now glaring at the passerbyes through the window. A simple glance at his own face and Lovino could tell just how pitiful he looked. The last thing he wished for was for some stranger to feel compassion towards him. He doesn't need it.

"Is what I'm doing, thank you very much. Eh, I get it dude, my day's been shitty too" Alfred sighed, making Lovino wonder whether he was referring to the car's awful state or some imaginary problem he'd thought of. Looking over the man it was obvious he couldn't have had it any worse. Stupid American had nothing to add. Yet, he kept talking.

"I didn't sleep throughout most of the night" very reassuring, saying that as a taxi driver. "I gotta go visit my family today. Thought I'd use the plane but I gotta take my car too and it's cheaper, ya know? But it's still annoying, I'd buy a new car if I could" another long sigh, a glance at Lovino, then back at the road. "You got any Christmas plans?"

Lovino kept quiet, brows narrowing, hoping the glare he'd thrown across the American had sent a message. Alfred pouted, looking back at the road.

For a European to be acting like that? And an Italian to add? It was like his worldview had scattered, thrown into little pieces that make fishes choke in the sea. Or turtles. Alfred never did try to get his research right. This guy was a hard piece to crack, but there's something obviously wrong with him. The mannerism, clothing. His bags didn't look anything like trip-type luggage, clothes lacking more fashion sense than Mattie's. Alfred was a curious man with still a few minutes left until their destination. He wasn't going to give up this easily, it'd be super lame.

"I'm gonna try and stop my dad from cooking. Oh, and I'm so making a movie marathon. I wanna force my brother to it, but I'm not sure if he'll be free. He's got this lover he keeps visiting and it's annoying as heck, you get me?" this time Alfred received a scoff, Lovino grabbing his forehead before motioning back to the window. "Come on man, a conversation ain't fun if it's one sided like this!"

"Have you maybe thought of shutting up then?" the Italian rolled his eyes, growing visibly more annoyed with each word Alfred dared to spatter. Seriously, do blond show-offs never get the hint?

"Dude, you're boring! I just wanted to play nice" Alfred was confused as to why his posture straightened.

They kept quiet, Alfred humming the last song that played on his playlist before that day. Maybe he just wanted to be mean for no reason, or maybe it was out of spite towards the Italian. He had always followed the trend of acting like a child after all.

Reaching the given address, Alfred already heard the shuffling behind him, on the backseat. A few grumbles in, as he could guess, Italian followed through whatever Lovino was doing. It seemed like he struggled. Just as Alfred was about to push his annoyance aside and help, his eyes caught the sight of the building Lovino had given him the address of.

His breath quickened, taking a short glance at the Italian, who was now ready to open the door, a part of the plastic bag ripped and sticking to his raggedy jacked. Alfred decided not to comment. He had to think quickly.

Too bad he wasn't a professional.

A short beep just as Lovino pressed on the handle.

Alfred felt the lingering glare on the side of his head, staring at the road in front of them, too scared to look at the man behind him. He tried to calm down, failing miserably. The sound of his heart beating kept getting louder, quicker, at a point sending an ache through his chest. But he couldn't compare his situation to the man behind him, could he?

"You… Visiting someone, dude?" his voice was pitched, throat slightly tangling on itself. He gripped the steering wheel, its scratching material sending a wave of comfort across his shaking hands.

"None of your business" Lovino felt his body trembling, weakening. Stupid, pathetic, helpless Lovino. Of course his driver turned out to be a psycho. One bad at being one at that. The temperature in the car was rising up in light speed, his head becoming giddy, brain turning into something of a used sponge. His legs gave up on him, Lovino feeling any control he had left in them fading.

"You-" Alfred forced himself to look at the man. Avoiding his face, he focused on the clothes and luggage more thoroughly.

The clothes were dirty, creased, few stitches sticking out of both his jacket and pants. It was as if he picked them up from the floor after weeks only to throw them on without any second thoughts. Like when you're in high school and oversleep. The bags were completely random, one having a convenience store logo, one old, practically at the brink of falling apart. They weren't full, one seemingly having more soft stuff inside than the other, Alfred deducing the foremost having some other clothes inside.

"You're not about to just… Become homeless of free will, are you man?" another glance at the building. An old homeless center. He'd never been here before, he didn't have to. He also drove homeless people a few times before, not many other willing to choose him over the trustable, checked drivers. And they weren't acting the same as Lovino.

Some were apologetic, some quiet. Some pretended everything was fine, one folded immediately, explaining their situation as if Alfred was not to drive them based on their lives only. They had the money for a ride, so there was no issue, the behavior always baffled him.

On the other hand, Lovino was angry, tired and very obviously stressed. He wasn't used to his situation, was he? Alfred badly wanted to know what happened, aswell as scared the Italian might do something to him if he dared to ask. Lovino wasn't staying calm and it was clear as to why, Alfred wouldn't lie to himself. He also couldn't leave someone in such a situation.

With a deep breath, the American finally found the courage to face Lovino, his eyes slowly making it's way from the man's bags, to his clothing, up to his own.

His eyes were a light shade of brown, said lightness intensifying along with the tears forming inside of them, the shine of fear making its presence known sincerely. Lovino's mouth trembled more than it had earlier, cheeks slightly red, eyebrows shaking from the pressure they were putting against each other. Lovino was afraid, and it was Alfred's fault.

No, not really. Alfred was just trying to help. Whatever the Italian was going through, he wanted to help. That's what heroes do.

"Hey dude, calm down. I, uh. Hey, I'm a taxi driver right. We uh, we kinda take the part of a therapist sometimes too! You're not gonna get one back there" he noticed the way Lovino's eyes flickered outside the window only to throw an even more pained glare at the American right after. Alfred swallowed before continuing. "You can tell me what happened. Before you go" he tried his best to soften his voice, the note of fear making itself obvious at the action.

"Pezzo di merda!"

A plastic bag, the latter, less soft, flew across the car, knocking Alfred's glasses off his face.

"Dude- what the fuck?!" he tried to find his glasses, seeing only the blurry reflection of his passenger. The only way he could tell what he was feeling was by sounds, which consisted of lots, lots of insults.

"What, you think this is some kind of game, eh? Just leave me alone and go on with your day, bastard!" his wording was surprisingly steady, in opposition to the rest of him. Fists gripped his jacket, legs staying in one place as if numb. Alfred still couldn't tell what kind of face the Italian was making, but he assumed not much had changed from the last time he'd seen it.

"Chill out man, is saying one sentence really that hard for you? I took you for less of a wimp!" Alfred blurted out, comically covering his mouth right after. Giving up on looking for glasses he stiffened, waiting for a response. The car went oddly silent.

"I don't owe you shit, jerk" his voice was trembling as it quieted down almost to a whisper. Alfred felt something gripping his insides.

"Look- I'm sorry man, I really am trying to help!" he whined.

"Help, eh? Trying to help? How exactly? Are you gonna go, take every other person and ask them the same, hm? Let me go already!" the backseat slightly squeaked, hinting at Lovino's movement. Alfred felt the Italian being closer to him, concluding he must've leaned forward. Silently, he hoped he wasn't about to be punched now that he was close to blind.

Panicking, Alfred found words staying in his throat, breath almost dissapearing, lungs too heavy to work. He stayed on his sit motionlessly, waiting for whatever was to come, forcing himself to keep his eyes opened. He really was stupid, exactly like they all said. Why would he ever assume this would be a good idea? He's not Peter Parker, he doesn't have the smarts, the powers, nothing.

He heard a quiet sob. Then the seat screeched again, in an opposite manner to previous. The warmth of another person was gone.

For a few minutes, the sobs were the only sounds in the car, somehow making the low temperature hit more roughly than originally. To not ruin it, Alfred decided not to speak, let the moment happen. Maybe if he doesn't intervene, the chances of success are higher. Maybe he should give himself more credit in his heroism in the meantime.

Alfred could feel the puffs of his breath against the cold around him, aswell as the sting of it each time he breathed in. He bit his cheek as to put frustration elsewhere. Overally, he could state he's calm, at least for his standards.

Without a sense of vision, his other senses were easier to spot, making their presence known harshly. He could hear each breath of the other man, each movement, each passing car or person. Hopefully standing here for so long was neither suspicious or illegal.

At the thought, the grip on his chest seemed to loosen, shoulders lightly relaxing. He breathed out slowly, noting his lungs weren't following nor doing any better.

The cold became more bearable.

Soon enough, the moment passed, Lovino's breathing only getting worse. Instead of sobs, finally there was a glimpse of subordination. The Italian's head hurt, throat more raspy with each word, more pathetic with every single thought running around his head.

Of course, of course he's vulnerable around some random American that took pity on him! One person with a glint of more patience than his family and there he is, bawling his eyes out like a six year old kid. His grandpa would laugh at him, his brother give him that stupid pitying look. Worst, the German bastard would probably ask what's wrong?, as if he cared anyways. Then Feliciano would nod with that stupid, mindless smile of his, witnessing his brother being the worse, disgraceful one once again. Cherry on top, their grandpa would join in and instead of focusing on the problem ask Feliciano, the calm one, what was wrong. It always goes like that and here he is, locked up in some old, wretched car with a psychopathic stranger, in a god awful country far too far away from his home, deciding to trust his possible murderer with his ridiculous problems.

Great, just great. Exactly what he needed. Guess here's the confirmation of who he really is. A reliant, useless jerk.

"My fucking boyfriend cheated on me. I- I don't have anywhere to go to, any money or- anything! There's my fate, right there" he pointed outside the window, only now noticing the lack of glasses on his driver. "God dammit… There you go, happy? My life has ended, you can't do shit about it"

Alfred stayed quiet.

"I thought- well I was sure he loved me. Ugh, it was so obvious he didn't, cazzo! Only thing he ever did was buy me shit, not ever being, I don't know, a boyfriend?" he stopped here, reminding himself of his own behavior. Always refusing affection, each time getting angry once it did occur. He wasn't sure of his feelings and now he had to face the consequences of it. Maybe it was his fault after all. Maybe they're right, he just wasn't… "I wasn't enough for his stupid ass and he left me for some fucking lolled up chick"

He fully relied on him. Now he had nothing left.

The hold on his throat made it unable to speak further, nor make any other sound for that matter. Lovino knew well if he attempted to say one more thing, nothing but an embarrassing noise would escape his mouth instead, only underlining how laughable he really was. He's not doing that.

"I'm really sorry" Alfred's voice cracked. "The guy seems like a jerk, you know. Man, I don't know your life story or anything, but the one cheating does stuff wrong, you know that? No matter the situation, really" he struggled to find the right words, never before having to deal with such a problem. Lovino groaned.

Trying to collect his thoughts, Alfred focused on looking for his glasses once again, before a hot hand hadn't touched his arm. He jumped, snapping his head around, knowing well he wouldn't see much either way.

"There, bastard. Stop moving around so much or your stupid car's gonna look as bad inside" Lovino handed him the glasses, moving away right after. His voice was dry, lower than before.

Putting his glasses on, Alfred finally had a chance to see his passenger's face. His eyes were squirmed, glaring out the window, puffy with tears still forming in them, though slower than during a crying episode. Chin was still trembling, lips following the motion lightly, cheeks having dark marks of the tears flowing on them just now. His bangs were curling, slightly wet. On in all, the man looked miserable, making Alfred's heart clutch once again.

Is this what losing your life looks like? Is this what all those homeless people he'd driven before felt once? Every day? Was he simply this ignorant, oblivious, letting them go without offering any help?

He sighed, turning back to face the street. He felt Lovino glancing at him, waiting for the door to open. But that's not happening, the American decided. He had let many people go, he's not now that he knows the cost. Clenching his teeth, he turned the car back on, beginning to drive away before the Italian could attack him.

"What the fuck are you doing?" he trembled, screaming out a bit later than Alfred had thought he would've, it sounding a bit like a choke.

"Alright dude. Say, your family's in Italy?"

Lovino scoffed before answering. "Stop prying into my business, jerk!"

"Wherever they are or whoever they are… I told you about mine, yeah?" he inhaled, taking a turn for the highway. His voice was shaking. "I'm going to Canada, back to my parents. And you're coming with me!" he faked enthusiasm, forcing himself to grin yet keeping his eyes focused on the road more than ever, hands gripping on the steering wheel.

"Hell are you talking about, bastard? Are you trying to fucking kidnap me?!"

"No, I'm trying to help!"

"Help?! I don't need help from some idiotic, monkey-looking American bastard!" Lovino threw his arms around, voice louder with each sentence. His vision was slightly blurry but he didn't feel any tears, though it was hard to tell considering his senses focused on gripping his brain.

"But- dude, you just said you have nothing left! I'm trying to help!" he was tired of repeating.

"So that's what it is? You took pity on some poor, poor man? What, are you gonna pick up every other homeless person and kidnap them too, eh, bastardo!"

Alfred nervously glanced around the windows, forcing himself to focus on the highway. Thankfully not many other cars were there, but they were surrounded by a huge pile of nothing. The chances an animal was going to show up out of nowhere and lead to their deaths were very high. Even if they did survive, said animal probably wouldn't, which would be depressing on itself. He hadn't noticed Lovino going quiet, staring at him, or leaning forward.

His right hand was snatched away from the wheel, the car taking a harsh turn to the left as his other arm stiffened. Not a second passed before he reacted, quickly moving the car back to its correct position and glancing at the backseat.

"What the fuck are you doing?!" Alfred screamed, both receiving and reciprocating a nervous glare.

"You're not taking me anywhere, asshole!" Lovino continued to pull his arm away, muscles quickly beginning to hurt from the sudden movement. He couldn't tell for sure, but if something broke inside them, he wouldn't be surprised.

"Are you trying to kill us?! This won't let you do shit!" he snapped, any taught reaction escaping his mind, instead glancing at the road once in a while, still going forward.

"And so what if I do, eh? Living in prison don't sound so bad" the Italian pulled the arm further away, himself moving closer in an attempt to grab the wheel.

Spontaneously, Alfred kicked the brake, head hitting the window, Lovino first falling on his arm then back to the backseat with a screech. On the middle of the highway, both tried to find their breaths, the driver proving to be surprisingly more professional in this matter.

Slowly, he leaned back on his seat, massaging his forehead with a groan. He decided to ignore the clear panting behind him.

For a few minutes, it was almost quiet.

Alfred looked around, making sure there were no cars. One did appear, but he didn't find it in himself to move, thankful to the other driver for only honking and driving around.

Lovino struggled to control his breath, the headache more apparent once the outside became silent. He could feel his heartbeat all around his body, everywhere but the chest.

"I'm sorry" the American sighed, catching his passenger's attention once again. "I do want to help people. I didn't… didn't earlier" he moved his head back, forcing eye contact. "You seem so… I don't know. Just thought your life shouldn't just end like that"

Lovino was surprised with how soft the man in front of him suddenly became. If he called the police, sued him or even tried to attack him back, he wouldn't be surprised. But he didn't. Not even his grandpa ever stayed this patient.

Not even his brother, not any of his caretakers, not any of his partners. Not even him himself.

He looked outside. The gray sky had not changed, morning still apparent. The cold in the car was much worse than on the outside, not to mention the company making him nauseous. His clothes were as raggedy as the seats, windows a bit dirty, making the outside blurry. The state of his bags was worse than he'd imagined, one half ripped open from all the struggle, one old in general.

His breath calmed down ever so lightly.

…

"Fine" he grumbled.

"Hm?"

"Fine. You wanna take me to Canada, do it. Fine" he repeated, crossing his arms in an attempt for comfort, a sense of a hug. He refused to look at the American's reaction, staring back at the window. He hadn't noticed how far away from the city they've driven already, nothing but empty space visible outside.

Alfred's eyes widened, breath skipping a few beats. His whole body felt exhausting to keep in piece, muscles relaxing all at once, a big wave of weariness hitting him.

He hummed, nodding, before adapting back to the needed position and turning the car back on aswell. A glimpse of a smile made its way through his face.

He chose not to think of the consequences of what he were about to do. Not yet.

Chapter Text

The ride had been going for hours now, each of them silent. Alfred did not dare to put his music back on, as much as he'd been looking forward to it previously. With the way the seat's material managed to bite his skin through all the clothing, it wouldn't be that relaxing either way. His head was fuzzy, barely staying in place as he fought to keep his eyes focused. Only thing he could hear, all little noises mixing up with all the important in the fog surrounding his brain, were the car, wind, and his passenger's constant heavy breathing. It was overwhelming, as if neither of them would ever calm down, no matter how much time had passed.

It was getting dark, the sky turning orange, making a nice view along with its small, gray clouds all around. It was winter, so Alfred assumed it must've been around 3 pm to be looking like that. He sighed, regretting having to take a car trip much more than he'd thought he would. Around them were vacant fields, maybe a tree once in a while, simply empty space. Oh to be able to run around in such a space, stay there for a moment, solely staring at the sky changing colors in time like nothing else does. He remembers the days when he was still a kid, Matthew running after him at all cost, them loosing each other in the grass. Their parents, you never knew whether they'd be mad or apologetic and Alfred always enjoyed the spike of uncertainty surrounding that.

But he couldn't focus on that, instead having to keep his eyes on the road, the map and try to survive without necessities, that being food, air conditioning and music. Not to mention, as proud as he was of his good deed, the person slouching on his car's backseat wasn't helpful in getting focused as much as in getting comfortable.

If Alfred wasn't glancing at the mirror once every few minutes, he'd assume Lovino fell asleep at some point. His silence was disturbing compared to how he'd been acting before. It only reminded Alfred just how much of strangers they really were. He has no idea who the man behind him is, was, thinks of him or this whole situation. He'd really rather not think about that, but the thought kept haunting him over and over.

Music would've solved the problem long ago.

Thankfully, their stop was already visible from afar. Alfred couldn't help but smile at the sight, receiving a curious glare from the Italian in the back, feeling it on his skin long before taking another glimpse at the mirror. He'd been planning on going there for months now, company could never ruin his plans or poor financial decisions.

Taking a turn to the right, he grinned even more, trying to think of what to say. In the meantime he was looking for a nice parking spot, that being difficult as his vision was slowly going in the steps of his head, which was muscle control vanishing, in short.

It took a struggle to put Lovino out of the car, him complaining something about disgraces, potatoes and untalented idiots, followed by a few Italian curse words. Alfred did not register what any of them meant, nor what his associate was talking about, the sentences melting as much as all other sounds. Therefore, he didn't care, dragging the man by his surprisingly consensual arm up until they weren't sitting at the table.

"Why'd you not take anything dude?" Alfred asked, growing bored of waiting for his three burgers and large fries. It's been about two minutes since he'd ordered them.

Lovino scoffed, rolling his eyes only to continue ignoring the American after the act.

"Nevermind anyways, at least that means the food will come faster" Alfred claimed in response, crossing his arms as to imitate Lovino's posture.

"Not how it works, idiot" the Italian argued, exhaustion more apparent in his voice than the intended aggression.

"Yes it does! Less food to make, less time to take" the declaration would've sounded much cooler if not finished with a long, embarrassing yawn. Lovino raised his eyebrows, sneering smugly, as if to simulate laughter. He leaned back on the couch, shifting his focus to their surroundings, all as ugly and boring as in any other cheap fast food. The only difference were the barely working lights and outside getting darker each second, making the vibe more similar to a cheap 90's detective movie than anything.

Even his stupid brother would never drag him to such an anomaly of a place.

Another minutes passed, each full of Alfred's non sensual to both of them blabber, before their number, the only one left on the board by the time, didn't get called. The American practically jumped out of the seat, running to the poor employee with a grin similar to a little child's.

Lovino was sure he wouldn't be able to survive another day with the man without at least trying to kill himself.

Looking back at the order he deadpanned, almost disgusted with how excited Alfred seemed to eat all of it, the portion enough for at least a family of four. He was almost curious on how the American wasn't overweight by now. His diet was much better, feeling himself getting sicker just by breathing in the old oil all those fries were put in for either too long or too short. The amount of toxicity filling them made it impossible to tell without tasting, which he wasn't looking forward to trying.

"Does your ass always eat this much?" he finally asked, quietly, hoping to get away with the comment without any reaction.

"Obviously! Long trip before us dude, gotta get the fuel for it" Alfred scoffed as if it were the most normal thing on the planet, which only offended Lovino further. Why in the hell would anyone choose to eat any of this junk? It won't give energy for more than two hours, only thing it can do is add weight. His nose wrinkled, tired eyes staring at the somehow not yet finished last burger.

The only reason it hadn't been touched yet was because of Alfred's constant yawning. Lovino tightened his fists, that skipping the other man's attention.

"Oh, by the way" he started, leaning back on the couch, now fully mimicking Lovino's way of seating once again, additionally holding a cup of whatever hideous drink he'd ordered. "My parents can be, hm…" scratching his chin for more effect, suspiciously and evidently holding out another yawn. "Much. On both positive and negative side"

If they raised such an insufferable idiot that was an assumption Lovino had made beforehand. He just hoped the brother Alfred mentioned would have any brain cells left.

"No like, seriously. You never know whether they praise you or not and then it turns into an argument between them, real hell dude. So don't freak out" he added sluggishly before grabbing the burger, some salad falling out of it. Lovino needed lots of control not to gag.

Until not finished with eating, Alfred kept quiet, hoping for any reply from the Italian, dissapointed in not getting anything more than a few eye rolls, sighs and eye contact avoidance. Either way, there was lots of other noises filling in the lack of conversation. Such as the lights buzzing, the employee's chatter and the sound of chewing. It made his head hurt, the visit much less enjoyable than any other time. The food's quality managed to make it only slightly better. With each delicious bite, the colors around him seemed to get blurred, an idea of his glasses being dirty spiking through his mind. He'd ignored it, as he was too lazy to clean them either way.

Once finally finished, Alfred stood up, his body shaking lightly as he helped himself by leaning one arm on the couch's backrest and laughing softly to stir the awkwardness off.

"Hold up, idiot" Lovino sighed, going the opposite way of the exit. Alfred shrugged, hoping to get used to the Italian's antics soon.

Were all Europeans this way? Now that he thinks about it, any other he'd met was also a weirdo. I mean, just look at his parents. He'd like to say his dad especially, but now that he thought about it, papa really wasn't much better.

Instead of staying inside, Alfred waited in front of the entrance, leaning on the wall with his hands in the pockets. It was freezing outside, his jacket more for the looks than the comfort, already old and worn off. Ignoring that, the way the air hit his face was much nicer than whatever he had to go through in the car. In a closed off space it's so… empty. Lovino had brought a new smell into his car, a mix of cheap head shampoo, typical shop aroma and the smell of old clothing, but his nose did get used to it pretty quickly. The low temperature was a good mix with the left warmth of his body, that helping him get his thoughts in place. Plus, as much as he loved fast food, the smell of it wasn't too pleasant after a longer period, that being the reason why he usually took it outside, back to his house or to a park nearby, instead of staying in a restaurant, all that making the fresh air even relaxing.

He glanced up at the sky, stars already beginning to show, their surroundings instead of their previous pretty pinks and oranges now gray and ready to set off to complete darkness. He couldn't find the moon, guessing if he were to look behind the building that's where it'd be, too lazy to do that as much as he'd wanted to.

He remembers the first time he found this place. It's a mental note of how far he is from the house. He remembers the way his brother's face looked once he'd came back, yet the words told by his parents all behind an imaginary fog.

He sighed, hoping his Italian friend would do whatever he was up to quicker, as to not leave Alfred alone with his thoughts. Dad probably won't be too happy about a sudden additional guest, not to mention basically a stranger to the both of them. He didn't even think as for how long Lovino would stay with them. As for papa it really was hit or miss. It depends on whether said guest would make a good or a bad impression on him, which also was a hit or miss, in Lovino's case. At least as far as he knows the man by the point. Why is he always surrounded by such people? He can't even think of how Matthew will react.

Maybe it was a mistake. He did want to help, he really did, but could he? Was it worth it? What if Lovino was just another asshole, one of those who simply received karma, Alfred completely misinterpreting the situation. Even bad people have their breakdowns, that doesn't define who they really were.

Was he putting the burden of taking care of such a person on his parents? Obviously he's willing to put up with Lovino, but he won't be the one paying for him, lending him his house or whatever other that was about to happen. It wasn't a roommate situation as much as he'd wished for it to be and even if it were, that also wasn't a strong point for him.

Following this way of thinking, why did Lovino agree to this? He was anything but content for the most part, the decision seeming more like someone had put a switch on him. If Alfred wasn't there with him, he'd assume the Italian had been abducted and replaced by aliens.

The sound of door opening managed to throw him out of his thoughts, startling enough to make him squeak at the action, jumping away from the door, fists ready to fight.

His brain seemed to have jumped too, Alfred gaining his vision only after few seconds. What he'd found in front of him was the Italian looking away, holding up a cup of something to his face. It wasn't anything he himself bought. He didn't take the object, instead staring at the side of Lovino's face.

Without getting any response, the Italian huffed before looking even further away. "I bought you coffee, stupid jerk. So you wouldn't kill us on the road" he eventually choked out the latter part.

Alfred's eyes widened, mouth opening slightly. Wasn't Lovino at the brink of bankruptcy? Content, he took the cup, not being able to hold up the smile crippling through at just the thought of coffee. He loved it lots but it just doesn't fit to the fast food he ordered, plus he assumed drinking it in addition to coke would be pointless, but since someone had already bought it for him…

A sarcastic "Awhh!" before drinking it whole in a matter of minute, too distracted to see even Lovino managing to put up a light smile. "Did you buy anything for yourself?" he asked after wiping his mouth with the jacket's sleeve, hearing another scoff from the side at the action.

"I just don't want to die by your trashy driving skills, asshole"

Alfred laughed, feeling the previous exhaustion he hadn't noticed before dissapearing slowly. "Sure thing dude, sorry 'bout that. You've gotta deal with a few more hours though"

"Yeah, yeah" Lovino began walking towards the car, Alfred having to skip to catch up, the action almost making him happy.

"If you're tired I have a few blankets in the trunk" the note of worry in his voice made the Italian swallow slowly, the saliva as cold as his skin. He could feel his throat beginning to hurt.

He stayed quiet.

Shrugging, Alfred did end up taking the blankets out, handing them out with a much more energetic smile than the previous. He brought two of them, one old, worn off, either brown or red, its state making it unable to tell. Second having the pattern of the USA flag. Both smelled of public washhouse. Against his better judgment, Lovino did end up covering himself with them although refusing to lay down, instead staying in the same seating position as previously, head slightly tangling to the side.

As they began driving off, the atmosphere was almost getting back to its previous, mentally draining state.

Feeling his eyes growing heavy, Lovino looked more thoroughly at the car, having more than it stinks with fast food here and is ugly in mind. It had lots of personality is what he'd call it now. The seats were as uncomfortable and demolished as earlier, no magical event happening to fix it, but they added a slight charm to the rest of it. That being, a few meme stickers on the side windows, a USA key chain hanging from the little mirror along with some big S sign in a triangle, a weird blue bird bat something and a Captain America figurine in the middle of the dashboard.

He's beginning to see a pattern in Alfred's interests.

"Yeah hm, dude?" the American broke through his thoughts, taking the car back to the road, voice although uncertain being much clearer than before, Lovino feeling proud of himself for buying him the drink.

He mumbled something even he couldn't decipher in response.

"Not sure if this is personal or something but like, why'd you even agree to this? Cause bro, you totally tried to kill me like five minutes earlier"

And silence fell.

Long silence full of the wind, the trees hitting each other and the stars shining further through the sky.

"Shut up and let me be, would you?"

A nod and silence again. At the very least, the American seemed to start understanding the comfort of own decision making.

…

"Dude hm, you going to sleep?" Alfred asked, finally focusing his eyes on the road instead of the passenger.

"I'll see, stop being so curious, bastard" he whispered, the previous distraction only making him feel more sluggish. Another chuckle from the car's front.

"You mind if I put my playlist on? Promise to keep it quiet"

"Whatever"

After only few seconds, the familiar punk, or rock, Lovino couldn't tell, music filled the car. Alfred hummed silently, quieting the volume down to a promised low level.

It was almost soothing.

Chapter Text

A black car pulled up, taking the last free place on the small, familiar sidewalk.

No eyes were watching it. Everyone had went to sleep by now, only few people expecting visitors being too far from the car's placement to notice, not knowing where exactly said visitor was, nor when he would show up. Unaware of the surprise he brought that he himself wasn't certain of.

The music turned off along with Alfred's long, exhausted sigh. He leaned back on the seat, too tired, not ready to stand up and face the real world yet again. This past day had been one of his most tiring by far.

He stared through the window at the old car parked in front of them. He recognized it. There were foolish stickers on its back, bears, cringe slogans, cartoons. The kids who had put them there probably forgot half of it, if not all, as its owner had not seen them for a while, that is as far as Alfred knows.

It made him feel bad. An old lady, always so nice, always helping Alfred and Matthew hide whenever they wanted to spite their parents. That being, Alfred wanting to spite them and Mattie joining in for no apparent reason. He'd heard so much about her kids, siblings, such a fun, full life she had. And yet there she was, too tired to live but too energetic to die just yet. No one remembers her, kids living in another country, husband long gone. Is this what life really is? Is that what's going to face him sooner or later?

Truly, he's as much of a downfall in life as that lady and he barely turned to adulthood. Just how will his future look like if he'd managed to screw it up so badly so quickly?

A glance at the mirror. It took him some time, but Lovino did manage to fall asleep in the end, Alfred was glad of that. He didn't smile looking at him even though a warm feeling of relief was visible somewhere inside. That was, somewhere alongside the overbearing knot in the stomach that made him scared to swallow. His eyes narrowed, focusing on the man behind.

Lovino didn't look calm even in his sleep. Maybe he did, but had every right to not be this specific night. His brows were squeezed against each other, jaw clinging on itself, his apparently favorite pose still kept, hands crossed as if he were giving the biggest attitude.

It was almost funny.

But yet again, Alfred wasn't able to bring himself to smile.

As quietly as he could, he got out of the car, took out all the bags, struggling not to curse them out each time they made a bigger noise even though all of it was lacking purpose, as the inevitable was to come knocking to his doors soon enough.

He didn't want to face him. Nobody, really. He didn't want to wake Lovino up and have to get him to make a good impression, he didn't want to see his parents and have to explain not only what happened in America but why he came with a friend, he didn't want to see Matthew for nothing more apparent than the fact they were brothers and he'd felt too awkward about it. They haven't updated each other during almost his whole stay in the neighbor country, they were going to once they'd meet up but here Alfred was, bringing in another person to take up the time and space of all of them.

Shaking it off, he opened the side door next to Lovino, careful not to startle him in case his head was laying on it instead of the wall. He stared for a few seconds, hoping the man would wake up simply from that, but nothing seemed to change in his expression.

A shake on the Italian's shoulder.

Alfred backed off, not exactly sure how to wake someone up in a nice way.

Few seconds passed before Lovino moved, but he did and the American was awfully glad for that. He shifted, only legs staying in place. One hand made its way to his head followed by a groan, grabbing it like a tired mother of three. Only after that was when he opened his eyes, looked around, then at Alfred. His eyes opened rashly, breath quickening. Alfred forced out an awkward chuckle and moved even further away, figuring he must've came off as creepy after all.

Every next thing happened quietly.

Lovino getting out of the car, looking around the neighborhood.

Alfred grabbing the bags, Lovino glancing at him with curiosity, asking if he's to help silently. Alfred shaking his head as a no, forcing out a grin even he knew wasn't believable.

The sound of their steps being the only noise on the whole, empty if to exclude the running away from them small animals, street. Lovino slightly behind Alfred, not quite sure what to do, possibly too tired to ask.

Alfred spotted his house. He put the bags down in front of another one on the side, sighing. He gave Lovino an apologetic look before leaning on its wall, the Italian not really understanding but deciding to keep his mouth shut for once.

Neither of them had the strength to talk.

Neither wanted to acknowledge how awkward the situation was and just how bad it was going to get.

Alfred stared at the sky. The street was far enough from the city for stars to be visible. Not quite as much as you'd see on the road here, but it was enough. Some shined brighter than the others, some connected into constellations he remembered but couldn't put his fingers on, blaming the weariness of the trip. The sky was black, slightly navy around the stars. There were a few, barely visible grey clouds, adding to the atmosphere of the place.

Lovino looked around himself. Similar houses, some better kept than others. Only one had lights on and it were the one beside them, assumingly their destination. The grip on his heart tightened. He did not deserve to be here. He shouldn't be here. Why was he here? He looked at his feet, the shoes not rising in quality one bit. Around was slightly wet grass, maybe from a rain he hadn't noticed while asleep.

He was still surprised to not have been actually kidnapped.

There were a few tulips surrounding them, the houses owner keeping a little garden with them, roses, alstroemerias, peonies and lilies. Under his feet were white lilies, one trodden, Lovino almost feeling guilty about it. He glanced at Alfred's feet. Under them were either yellow or also white lilies, hard to tell in the dark. They did look different than the previous, so he'd assumed a different colour.

Snapped out of his observations by a sudden pull on the arm, he almost got loud again. Respecting the neighborhood though, he managed to shut up before anything else ensured, instead settling on throwing a grimace at the idiot next to him.

While he was trying to identify flowers in the dark, Alfred managed to move on from whatever episode he had, seemingly ready to face the situation, body steady, movement swift and certain. His face said otherwise though, in fact he looked like he were about to cry, but who was Lovino to comment? All he could do was pray the family doesn't kick him out.

They stood in front of the doors, an almost movie like chatter heard from the inside. Lovino wasn't sure whether it was arguing or flirting, but with that impression of Alfred's family he wasn't too excited to meet them.

Beside him, Alfred loudly breathed in, the miserable look on his face returning to a hopeful grin in a matter of seconds, before knocking.

It was impressive.

The chatter from the inside stopped, now only one voice apparent, making comments neither of them could decipher. For a few beats it was purely quiet, then slow footsteps made its way towards them, louder with each second.

Was the air around them dissapearing?

The doors opened with a slow, quiet squeak and in front of them stood, if Lovino were to guess correctly, Alfred's father. His hair were only slightly more blond, the rest in full view practically the same although there must have been differences, some only visible after looking for longer than seconds. One, in personality, made itself apparent in a matter of just those seconds.

He glared at Lovino, then put even more anger into the stare while looking at Alfred, rolling his eyes and scoffing through the motion. He stayed quiet, straightening his back and keeping eye contact with him, arms crossed. Lovino's breath quickened ever so lightly, him following and copying the father's behavior unwillingly, lots of unsaid insults appearing in his mind.

Alfred chuckled, scratching the back of his head slowly with a sheepish smile. He glanced around them before finally speaking up.

"Hiii dad, how you doing? Um, late isn't it, long trip you know, you cooking something there? I can feel it, hm, on my skin, let me guess" before he did, he attempted to shove Arthur away only to fall back onto the sidewalk.

A light scoff. "You're not getting anywhere with that behavior" the man had a clear British accent, something his son seemed not to copy, which was odd. Instead of helping around, Lovino stayed in place, watching the situation with wider than he'd like eyes. "Mind explaining?"

Alfred groaned. "Lovino dude, meet my dad I guess" he stood still, hands in pockets, avoiding eye contact with either of them. "Dad, seriously, it's cold, we're tired, let it go for once"

Arthur's mouth narrowed, the glare somehow even sharper.

"You and who exactly?"

Then, another pair of footsteps were heard.

A second man turned from behind the previous, successfully shoving him away. This one seemed to be more similar to Alfred personality-wise which was clear from his facial expression alone and Lovino wasn't sure whether to be happy or angry because of that. Nevertheless, his shoulders relaxed.

The man gave them a wide grin, looking between them with a spark in his eyes Lovino couldn't decipher and blocking the other man with his arm, Arthur throwing insults at him and cursing the queen, for some reason.

"I agree, who's your friend Alfred?" he asked with obvious amusement, a very apparent French accent in his voice. Was he the second parent or not? Neither seemed to be American, now Lovino was questioning Alfred's nationality.

What he was questioning even more, was how did the both of them look like their kid's biological parents? Two men can't have children, can they? So how come? His head spiraled, whether from stress or confusion, neither could he tell nor bring himself to start caring. Instead, he fought not to cry from the knot in his stomach, which would be pathetic.

Arthur grabbed the French guy's long hair then harshly pulled at it, finally releasing himself from his grasp.

"What are you doing, you twat! Is there any brain cells left in your perverted head?" he shouted, moving further into the house. Francis snatched his head around, somehow glaring and pouting at the same time.

"Can you be nice for once, or physically can't do such? We have a guest, can't you see?" he also moved back, glancing at them once, making sure they get the memo.

"You're not one to speak about manners, you arse!"

As the argument kept getting louder, Alfred sighed with clear exhaustion, giving Lovino an apologetic look. He took the bags back up, motioning for the Italian to enter.

The thump the bags made when thrown onto the ground was still not louder than the two European's argument, its subject somehow moving itself to the existence of unicorns. Alfred quietly took off his coat, then moved to Lovino's, receiving a scoff which he by now learnt to ignore, placing the both of them on the same hanger beside the door which the American only now realised he hadn't closed.

"Told you so, dude. Chaotic. So, the British guy's my dad, you can just call him Arthur, I'm not sure, he's got this huge ego so if that's wrong he'll probably tell you" he pointed at the short haired, groaned and moved his finger to the other. "That's the other one, me and Mattie call him papa, I'm not sure myself where that came from" a short pause. "Can call him Francis" he ended the explanation with a shrug.

Lovino hummed in response, nodding, still too dumbfounded to find anything to say.

They stayed quiet for a few moments. Lovino kept his hands in the pockets, staring at the ground, hoping for an answered prayer, while Alfred's leg was shaking, foot going up and down as he watched the situation around him. Another obviously forced chuckle.

"Gonna take my stuff to my room, then we can take yours from the car and all that, okay dude? Get comfortable, no one will mind. Well, dad might, but papa seems to like you so it's good enough" he ranted with a shaky breath before running upstairs, leaving Lovino alone in a new, unfamiliar house, stuck in the middle of an argument between two somehow seeming to flirt in the middle of it older men.

Only few minutes of him nervously looking around passed before the argument stopped, Francis covering Arthur's mouth with his hand.

"So, Lovino, yes?" he asked, the smile awfully similar to Alfred's grin but somehow different. It was hard to place what the difference was, really, but it was there. Seemed more French. "Sorry for that, I'm gonna make late dinner and you go to the living room, okay?" he then mumbled something to Arthur, who finally relaxed and nodded, still finding enough brain to scowl at him during that.

"Right- all right" Lovino responded, chocking on his words. He took off his shoes and only then passed by the pair, towards what he hoped was the right direction. He could feel the stare they gave him.

Once finally there, he noticed another person laying on the couch with a teddy bear beside. They titled their head towards him, eyes lightly widening before giving a shy smile and a nod of acknowledgment, then back to looking at their phone. Lovino ignored that the guy was scrolling through random wikipedia pages, instead deciding to focus on his face.

Now that, that was definetly Alfred's brother, if not a sheer copy. His face structure was identical, the only difference being the eye colour, in the lamp's light looking more purple than anything. Lovino assumed they simply were darker than his brother's. His hair was also much more curly and slightly longer, glasses a little different, rounder and lighter frames, all that making his face look softer overally.

A flashing memory of Lovino punching Alfred's glasses away stroke through his mind before he was able to get back to reality. His guts seemed to tangle in themselves.

He sat down on the couch, it being much softer and having better quality than the car's seats, though that not helping in getting comfortable as he foolishly thought it could've.

The guy beside him seemed to stiffen, but Lovino ignored it. They were basically on opposite sides of the couch, it could just be a delusion. That's the brother Alfred mentioned, wasn't it? Mattie? He'd assumed that, with the way the American had mentioned him, he'd be a younger sibling, but that didn't seem to be the case.

How was Feliciano doing? Was he alright, was he worried? No, Lovino, you've already established that, stop. He's probably having the time of his life with his stupid German bastard boyfriend or fiance, he didn't care, without his pathetic older brother being a pain in the ass. Why was he thinking of him anyways? It's not like Feliciano was ever important to his life, they barely know each other.

The bigger problem was him. He always was an issue to his family, the person they'd invited simply because of shared blood that still didn't have the willpower to show up and now, to not be a pain, he landed upon being one to another? Complete strangers with no connection, no correlation, nothing, just because some stupid American taxi driver was too nosy? That was stupid, he was stupid, there's no going back now.

He felt himself getting hot.

Why would they let him stay here? Arthur was completely correct to be suspicious or, well, whatever he was. If Lovino was put in his position, would he agree to this? Then there was the Francis bastard who seemed so pleased at his presence it was almost scary. He seems to be the only one happy with his company. Arthur probably hates his guts, Mattie probably hates his guts and Alfred, he honestly didn't know.

This house was too warm, too pretty, too full to have him.

He didn't deserve to stay in such a house.

No, of course he did.

Maybe just not with these people of all.

The smell of champignons, chicken, onion, wine aswell as few other spices filled the house slowly. It was nice, soothing one could say and what most important, familiar.

Lovino's back straightened, head curiously moving to the side. He heard a light giggle, one like Alfred's, but much softer and quieter.

"Papa's been making this for an hour now. If you want a plate you need to be quick, Al always takes all of it" Matthew laughed, voice shaky. Lovino snapped his head towards him, by now forgetting the man was even there.

A plate? If he's correct this meal really is great, and he would definetly eat all of it. But should he really, in such a situation? He feels his hands tingling, brain getting ready to fight for the food like back at home but at the same time, the left parts of worry were louder than ever. No, they're gonna kick you out. On the other hand, he does deserve good food after such a trip, with such a person, not to mention he was starving, not having eaten anything since yesterday.

He didn't have much time to ponder though as soon enough, everyone was called to dinner, along with him, the table decorated and all dishes in place, along with space for him, water for him and a separate small bowl full of puree, for him.

Before he was able to even connect the dots, register there was any part of the dinner, well, for him, Alfred had managed to run down the stairs, sit down and already had his mouth full of food. It was almost funny, how such a thing would get him to have sparkles in his eyes. Though, that would be hypocritical of Lovino to say, he felt ones in his own.

Yet another chuckle, this time from the front. Seriously, what was with this family?

This time it was Francis, shooting his gaze away from Alfred with a theatrical gag and now staring at Lovino. Next to him, Arthur was giving the both of them side eyes, leaning back on the chair, not looking too fond of the meal. Or of them.

A chair squeaked beside him. Oh, Mattie. He forgot the man was here. He was given a shy smile before the guy also started eating, much slower, gentler than Alfred. Certainly less like a pig. His shaky hands could've also had took part in his skill of manners.

"Sit down and eat, mes chers!" Francis exclaimed, clapping his hands together. Arthur scoffed on the side, rolling his eyes.

Hesitantly, Lovino sat down. Slowly, carefully, unusually. He felt Francis still staring at him. Instead of moving, he glared at the food.

A fake cough. "I made a bigger portion because I figured Alfred would eat all, but that leaves it for you" the Frenchman repeated, his son sending him a pained look, not taking a break from eating during so.

"Yeah, hm, it's easy to make too much of it" he grumbled in response, touching the meat with a fork unsurely.

"I'm experienced enough to not make idiotie such as that"

"Well, yeah, but I know some who would" Lovino chocked out, the German bastard and his stupid vomit tasting sausage his brother had forced him to eat once appearing in his mind immediately.

Another chuckle. "Is that so? Do you also have any miserable cooks in your family?"

"Watch your mouth, frog!" Arthur poked Francis with the wet fork, frowning, mouth full of food in a comically similar to Alfred's way.

"You could say so…" he responded quietly, somebody else's image in his mind this time. His family? He'd probably be the worst one out of the bunch. It was always Feliciano's cooking that was praised, not his.

Silence fell. It's become a usual event for Lovino at that point.

Why was this happening so fast? All moments in life do. Why? Why did he agree to this? Why did Alfred's parents, or at least one of them, agree to this? If they were his parents. Apparently they were. Did Mattie not have a word to say? He was ruining this family's whole holiday plan. Why was Alfred so quiet, why would he suggest he'd join in the first place? He's eating fancy dinner in some stupid house in a different country than the one he'd been in just yesterday, house on which's doorstep he was almost thrown away from just few minutes ago? These people don't know who he is, he doesn't know who these people are.

Why couldn't life be one straight line? Why couldn't he just lay down and rest?

His phone rang, breaking the conversation Arthur and Mattie held, Lovino almost spitting the food out.

One look at the screen.

"Scus- Sorry" he chocked out, standing up from the seat quickly, feeling the blush on his face already. "I'm- I'm gonna go take this, okay" he added, appearing even more pathetic than beforehand.

Leaving the scene quickly Lovino didn't notice the signs of worry on Francis' face, the confusion on Matthew's, or the curiosity on both Arthur's and Alfred's, the latter's much stronger, much more obvious.

He entered a sort of terrace, a small backyard right in front of him, the house's light still apparent through the windows. This time there was no flowers, the grass only slightly visible, just as miserable as everything around it.

Lovino stared at the screen for a few seconds before finally picking up. He looked at the sky. For moral support, maybe? The stars were barely visible, gray clouds covering them. The air was cold and slightly stained, the food's smell as apparent as inside.

Swallowing slowly, he bared himself to hear whatever was thrown onto him.

Why in the hell would he ever decide to pick up? Idiot.

"Lovino, you finally answered! I was so worried, I missed you, where have you been?" the person questioned, an odd sharpness to their voice.

Lovino kept quiet, biting his cheek.

"Don't go around ignoring me! I worry and that's how you act?"

"What do you want?" he asked, voice shaking, quiet, almost a breath. He grabbed the side of his shirt, playing with it, feeling his hands sweating.

A short moment of silence, the man's breath visibly heard from the other side of the line. "I just asked! You've not come back in two days, I started to worry"

"Why would I?" he stopped fidgeting with the shirt, instead using the free hand to grab his stomach. "You piece of shit. Do you really expect me to throw myself to your arms, bastard?" his voice was still low, but this time having a fragile note of bite to it.

That's what always happened. Lovino knew who this man was, he knew from the start. He'd ignored it, tried to forgive him, but it always came back to the start in the end. It always ended with Lovino feeling bad and it was his fault. He knew it. But if neither of them could change, what was the point?

"I bought you a new coat since your last one was so greasy. I remembered you telling me about it. Come on, just tell me where you are, I'll pick you up, we'll watch your favorite soap drama or whatever else you'd like to do. We can cook dinner together too, I know how much that calms you down. Those days must've been rough, right?" this time he spoke completely softly, the worry in his voice clear, sending an ache through Lovino's body.

Maybe the man was right. Maybe he should just come back.

He had no place here, in this family's house. Really, who in the hell agrees to this, he just couldn't comprehend it.

He kept swaying left and right, not quite sure which leg to place the heaviness of his body on, not quite thinking about it either. He kept listening, ignoring the twist in his stomach at each word spoken from either of their mouths.

"My coat's fine" he simply responded, louder than before, not by choice.

"Fine fine, sorry" the man laughed. "Can't you accept a present for once and not be insufferable with it?" his voice quickly became sharper once again. "Please Lovino, stop this childish farce and come to me"

Unable to sort his thoughts out, Lovino started going back and forth on the patio, debating on whether to get to the ground or not. The grasses temperature coming with its wet state could be calming, couldn't it?

Moving slightly away from the house, he didn't notice a person inside it moving closer to him.

Alfred leaned on the door, trying to listen in to the conversation.

The face Lovino made when looking at the phone wasn't anything pleasant and now his body was nervously fidgeting, voice quieter than he'd ever heard from the Italian. It was worrying to say the least and he should take the burden of giving out a helping hand. He was a good person, that's what good people do.

"What, got bored with your side whore already?" Lovino snorted, the free hand grabbing his sleeve, once again playing with the material.

"Side whore?" confusion. Fake. Must be fake, right? "Whatever are you talking about?"

"Don't go around taking me for a forgiving idiot, jerk! Porca puttana… What do you want from me?!" this time he asked louder, confidently standing further away from the house.

"Don't make me repeat myself, this is getting nowhere. Are you getting pressed over that woman you caught me with? I explained already, that was just a one-off" his tone was steady, Lovino could feel the man straightening through it alone.

"You didn't explain shit, bastard!"

"You must've misinterpreted the situation, really. You always do. Let's meet and talk it out, shall we?"

Lovino glanced at the small fences around him. Would he be able to jump through them?

The man continued after a long, exhausted sigh. "Please, nothing happened. Really"

"Stop lying your ass off shithead, you told me just enough how much you liked that chick, eh? So maybe lay off and suck it up, I'm" he swallowed slowly. "I'm not coming back to you, I told you already"

"Oh, Lovino you sound hurt. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have used that tone. Are you okay?" the man mumbled carefully.

Another ache through his chest, another long breath in.

"I'm sorry Lovino, I'm so, so sorry. That won't happen again. I was being nice to that lady was all, I didn't enjoy anything, there was nothing going on between us, I promise. I love you and you only. You'll never catch me even looking at another person again, I promise, I promise!"

Silence. Lovino stopped in his steps, finding it unable to breath, and even more to move or even think of moving. In all truthfulness, he wasn't thinking at all.

"I'm hurt too, you know? You never give me anything Lovino. Never once did you want to even hug, never once did you agree to any of my ideas really. And it hurt me, just as much as you're hurting me now. Please don't be silent, Lovino, please"

He kept standing in place. Debating whether to listen to the man or not. He knows for sure he can't be telling the truth. Right? Right, no, of course not. But he can't just leave, he'd been stupid to think so.

Lovino is nothing. He can't do anything by himself. He has no money, no closer family, nothing. This man was what provided him life for such a long time. He'd be a fool to just let it go.

The house's doors opened harshly and before Lovino could react, his phone snatched from his hand, Alfred moving away with it carefully.

"Hell are you doing, bastard!?" he screamed but made no following movement, not finding the strenght or will to take action.

"Hello!" Alfred beamed, obviously not honestly. He gripped the phone, staring at Lovino.

"Who- Where's Lovino?" the man lowered his voice, talking slowly.

Alfred decided to talk even slower. "Hi, so, Lovino told you to leave him alone, do so, 'kay dude? Cause he told you multiple times, this is harassment ain't it? So like I'll call the police on you if you don't shut up. And also, he's fine and far away, okay? Bye!" he hung up, quickly blocking the number before putting the phone in his pocket and looking back at Lovino.

The Italian's eyes were opened wide, mouth shaking. His hands were put into fists, grabbing the air roughly, the rest of his body stiff. He stared at Alfred with uncertainty, but kept quiet.

It was, more or less, awkward. Very awkward.

Neither knew what to do.

Neither wanted to acknowledge it.

Slowly, carefully, Alfred walked towards Lovino, who backed off at first, then stopped. He put one arm over the Italian's shoulder, offering a very, very uncomfortable hug. Lovino's muscles relaxed ever so slightly, breath beginning to slow down.

They stayed like that for a few minutes.

Not one word was muttered through either of their mouths.

It had to. But it didn't.

The two were really, really unsure by the situation.

Lovino wasn't sure whether to be grateful or angry. In all honesty, he wanted to get back to his home. He'd thought of Italy, of his brother, even of the Spanish bastard who'd visit them once in a while. He hated every single one of them, but really? Having them around, now he wasn't sure whether he'd loathe it as bad as usually.

And Alfred, not once did he have to comfort a stranger over something like that. Comfort anyone, in general. He wasn't even sure if Lovino needed comfort. He was the one to tell the jokes and soothe the atmosphere, sure, but it never was him getting closer to anybody. But heroes provide comfort, don't they? He hoped his parents weren't watching the situation, but they probably did. Same goes to Matthew, though he always was a big question mark. Right now he just hoped that man would leave Lovino alone. He just hoped he had the strenght to help another person as much as he wanted to, even if he didn't know exactly how.