Sinful Nostalgia | Hetalia

10 || Schwachkopf

I was allowed to visit Feliciano approximately four hours later, when it was about two in the morning. Lovino had insisted he come too, and I didn't disagree. Feliciano was his brother, after all, and he must be more worried than I am. Though, I don't know if worried is how to describe the aching pain in my heart at the moment.

It was an unbearable, constant sadness. Feliciano, hurt, and as Lovino so elegantly put, all because of me. But the pain of waiting was nothing compared to the pain of seeing him laid and propped up in a hospital bed, dark circles beneath his eyes and a large white bandage on his cheek. His foot was also elevated. He must've hurt it badly. His warm brown eyes were slits as he half-opened his eyes to greet his visitors, a small whimper escaping his mouth.

"Fratello," he mutters softly, closing his eyes again. "Monica." He sounded as if the words he was speaking could be his last, which made my heart shatter even more. He can't be gone... he can't leave... that would be the most painful of all. Lovino and I get a bit closer to the bed, trying to hear what he wanted. "Guys... I...." He swallows. "I am really hungry."

"Idiota," Lovino grumbles, hiding his face from view. I could feel tears gathering in my eyes. Before I could stop them, I felt them sliding down my cheeks.

"Schwachkopf," I growl, before burying my face in my hands. I was crying, and it sucked. The tears were staining my palms, acid liquid pouring from my eyes. I'm twenty one years old, yet I am crying as if something important had been taken away from me. How childish could that possibly be? I'm so weak.

"Don't cry," Feliciano mumbles, voice cracking up. "I'm the one who should be crying... I really want food and you guys are calling me Idiota... and whatever you just said, Monica..." Feliciano sniffs a bit, and his eyes fly open. I feel his warm hand on my cheek suddenly, and look up to see him tilting my face to see him. My tears roll off my cheeks and into his hand.

"Don't... don't scare me like that," I whisper harshly, trying to mask my sadness with anger but only failing. Something is nostalgic about this. I'm not sure why I'm so upset over a car crash, but it must be something. "Don't you ever get hurt to come and see me like that again, Feliciano. I mean it. I... I really mean it."

"Come closer?" Feliciano asks me quietly. I do so, standing up and leaning down as he beckoned for me to get even more close. I could feel each of his breaths on my cheeks as he slowly kissed both of them, which from what I gather, is a common greeting in Italy... when you are affectionate of somebody. "I'll be careful. I promise."

I could feel the back of my head getting peirced by Lovino's glare in the background. I shift uncomfortably, knowing that he probably thought I was on my way to break his brother's heart, as if I were the girl from Feliciano's childhood. My cheeks were bright pink. I could practically feel the heat radiating off of them. I never felt more sad, yet more... light, than I did right at this moment.

"G-good," I mumble, turning away and swallowing. Feliciano grabs my hand, giggling a little bit. He must be loopy on the meds. Lovino facepalms a bit, but doesn't take his gaze away from us. He really doesn't trust me.

"Moni-Bella..." He giggles again, mumbling something in Italian. I raise my eyebrows, wanting him to say it louder. "Ti amo," he winks. Lovino grumbles something, and I already get the jist as to what was just said. I turn even more red than before, if that was remotely possible.

Before I could say anything back, a young woman comes in the room. She had short black hair, and large brown eyes. "My apologies," she speaks softly, her accent Japanese. "But I need to check over Feliciano's wounds, and only one can stay here."

"Oh, okay," I mutter. I walk out the door into the hall, and whisper the words I wanted to say in repliance. "Ich liebe dich auch."

***

When I got home, Julchen threw her arms around me in a huge hug. "Oh my gosh, I was so so so so worried about you, you idiot!" she screeches. "Gosh, oh my gosh, it's like three a.m. and you just walk in the door and and - ah!"

"Would you calm down," I ask her flatly, shoving her off of my shoulders. Julchen lands on the floor with the look of a hurt puppy, and I sigh. "Feliciano was hurt in an accident, and I just wanted to make sure that he was alright. Is that okay with you?"

"I suppose so," Julchen shrugs. "As long as you planned on coming home for the night. Is Curly Italian okay, or do I need to buy the icecream and tissues?"

"I guess he's okay..." I reply, recalling the moments in that hospital room. My face turns red just thinking about it, so I turn away. "I mean he was really, really loopy on pain medication... but the first thing he said was that he wanted food."

Loopy. That's all. He didn't mean it when he told me what he did. The scary thing is, though, was that my reply was as consciously made and true as can be.

"Classic Italian," Julchen dismisses with a wink, completely oblivious to my internal turmoil. "What'd you say back to him?"

"I called him a Swachkopf," I shrug, holding back my laughter. Things were going to be okay. Feliciano isn't as badly hurt as I thought I would find him, and he didn't seem to have hit his head too badly. He acted like he would on a normal day. Right?

Julchen rolls her eyes and chuckles slightly, tucking a loose piece of messy white hair behind her ears.

"Classic German."