'ᴜɴᴅᴇʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴇᴀᴛʜᴇʀ' || ʜᴇᴛᴀʟɪᴀ

17

Antonio and Gilbert sat in the former's room. The Prussian was on the bed, and the other was sat on a chair in the corner; he'd said that he wanted to keep distance to avoid coughing in Gilbert's face, and Gilbert decided not to disagree. It's not that he was worried about germs, he just wanted to respect his friend's wishes. 

Somehow, to his relief, Gilbert had managed to get Antonio to talk for longer than two minutes for the first time since he'd found the Spaniard several hours ago, further out in the countryside. At the time, he hadn't been able to get his head around the scene. He couldn't explain where the blood on Antonio's top had come from, but wherever it may have been, Antonio hadn't said, and Gilbert didn't know if that was a protective thing or not, but he didn't like not knowing.

"Hey," he said as a sudden thought came into his head, "have you had anything to eat today?"

Antonio shook his head. "I left the house before dawn, and didn't return until . . . You know . . ."

"Then perhaps some dinner is in order, ja?" Gilbert smiled. "I don't want you starving."

"It's fine, really. I'm not hung--"

"At least help me make something, then. You might not want food, but I sure as heck do!" 

Sure, it was a bit of an underhand way to get Antonio to leave his room, but Gilbert didn't think that it was healthy for his friend to hide away in his room and not be social with the others. He knew for a fact that company could always lift your spirits, and right then, there were three other people who wanted to see Antonio out of his room.

"Fine," Spain responded, shaking his head with a smile and standing up. "Anything in particular you want?"

"I say we go down and see what you have, and see what everyone else wants," Gilbert replied. He, too, stood up, and led them out of the bedroom.

"Is Lovi still mad at me?" Antonio asked suddenly. He glanced from the floor to Gilbert, guilt in his voice and eyes. 

"I . . . I don't know," Gilbert said with a sympathetic shrug. "I'm sure it's fine, and if he has anything to say, I'll just intervene. It's unfair for him to have a go when you're not feeling like yourself."

Antonio hummed in disagreement. "I think it's fair . . ."

'Of course it is, you treat him like shit.'

"Well, never mind that," Prussia cut in with a slight frown. He didn't want Antonio to feel guilty or sad about anything--not while he was trying to get better. 

The pair walked downstairs in silence, and came out into the open living area. Italy looked up from nowhere and saw them both, and he gave Antonio smile. Opposite him, his older brother saw his face, and followed Feliciano's gaze to the Spaniard and Prussian. Lovino looked at them for only two seconds before averting his eyes to the hands in his lap. He didn't really know what to say, so he held his tongue to avoid spewing out complete nonsense.

Gilbert glanced between Romano and Spain--both of whom were avoiding keeping the other in their line of sight--and after saying a quick hello to Feliciano, he continued into the kitchen with Antonio in tow.

"Ah, West!" Gilbert beamed upon seeing his brother at the kitchen sink. "Toni and I were going to make something to eat. Ideas?"