'ᴜɴᴅᴇʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴇᴀᴛʜᴇʀ' || ʜᴇᴛᴀʟɪᴀ

20

☼ Spain ☼

Prussia trudged down the stairs, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. It had been a peaceful night, not a noise coming from anywhere in the house or its tranquil surroundings. It was a welcome change to previous nights of hearing all sorts of noises coming from himself and the others staying in Berlin who were ill like himself.

'I wonder if Toni slept well . . .' he asked himself as he came into the living room. 'I hope he did, he needed it most.'

"Morning," a certain Italian greeted from the sofa. Gilbert was more than surprised to see Lovino awake at such a time in the morning, but said nothing.

Romano had a drink in his hands. Coffee, perhaps--it looked freshly hot and Prussia was actually a little jealous. He decided to make one too, hoping that Spain wouldn't mind if he helped himself to the necessary supplies, and he continued to converse promptly.

"Guten morgen," he smiled back. "Sleep OK?"

"Like a log," Lovino said. He took a sip of his drink and winced when he realised he'd burnt the tip of his tongue. "I was surprised that I didn't hear Antonio last night, though."

"Ahh, it probably just means he got the sleep he needed!" Gilbert responded. "I'll be amazed if he comes down in the next hour, to be fair."

Lovino hummed. "I suppose, but he never sleeps for longer than seven hours."

"Never?"

"Never," Romano nodded. "It doesn't matter if he's tired, drink, ill or upset. Seven hours is his limit."

"Maybe less than an hour, then," Gilbert sheepishly remarked.

He wasn't going to ask why Lovino was so aware of Antonio's sleeping patterns and habits; one, that wasn't really his business, two, he knew that Lovino would throw the coffee at him. Gilbert preferred that his face not be burnt horrifically.

The duo went about their lives as normal, then. Gilbert made himself a drink and they both managed to make conversation without Romano once calling Prussia a 'bastard' or 'idiot', which made a refreshing change, and time ticked by rather quickly. Before they knew it, the clock on the wall was reading 9am, and they were still the only two people awake. They didn't say it aloud, but . . . Something was starting to feel wrong.

"This is a long seven hours," Gilbert muttered to himself. "Should we go and check on him?"

"Give it ten more minutes, and I'll go," Lovino replied. "Maybe he just fell asleep later than normal."

The first thing that Lovino wanted to do when Antonio decided to finally come downstairs was talk to him about their little conversation yesterday. He felt bad, and had realised a bit late that he was meant to be helping Spain, not make him feel worse. He wanted to say sorry, he wanted Antonio to say sorry, and he wanted them to get back on track. It was pointless to lose a relationship over something so silly.

He smiled to himself. Despite the occasional friction, he and Antonio had something special that Lovino loved. Not that he'd admit it. But all the same, he loved the way the brunette would dance along to the radio while they cooked and drag him into it. He loved the way that he would always smile and try to cheer him up when Lovino had had an argument with his brother. He even loved it when he woke up early in the mornings sometimes, and could still hear the gentle snoring coming from Antonio next to him.

That last one was especially comforting for Lovino. He knew how Spain only ever snored like that--quiet and softly--when he'd had little sleep or when he was feeling sick. And as Lovino sat there, thinking of these things, he realised something that made his heart skip a beat.