One Man's Treasure

This chapter is unedited

Warnings: Um, none that I can see.

A/N: Whoo. Go me. Chapter one of this whole thing! Ah, I have a good feeling about this, like a great feeling. Then again, I'm sleep deprived and I'm finishing this at 1:20 in the morning, and I have school tomorrow, but who cares? Because it really seems that I don't. Anyways, I got nothing else to say but:

Enjoy.

(P.S: If anytime during this story that I don't use correct Spanish, German, Italian, any other languages that I am not fluent in, please tell me and I'd be glad to change it!)

Chapter One:

Something felt off. Lovino couldn't place his finger on it, but he could feel something was off. His mind felt thick, muddled, but he could tell something was off. Struggling to sit up, Lovino frowned and glanced around; attempting to decipher what was wrong before his body fully woke up.

Where was Feliciano?

With strange realization, Lovino let himself fall back down. Feliciano was usually the kid who would much rather sleep with his older brother, or grandpa, than sleep by himself. Usually, by now, Feliciano would be curled next to Lovino, snoring lightly. But Lovino's bed wasn't occupied by the two brothers, Lovino being the only one tangled up messily in his sheets.

Lovino frowned. Surely Feliciano and Romulus wouldn't stay out that late. Feliciano got too tired too easily to stay out for long periods of time, and when he did, he could be found napping in odd places. (Lovino had to fetch him from a woman's house, once. But that is another story Lovino wished not to reencounter.) Even if Feliciano suddenly passed out, Romulus would surely be walking back to the house with Feliciano on his back, because their grandfather wasn't insensitive too letting his grandsons sleep in random places in the dead of night.

So they had to be at home, right? Lovino struggled to get back up into a sitting position so he could untangle himself from the knot of sheets that encased his legs. He would be pissed if they weren't home. Feliciano would be complaining in the morning, and Romulus would be sleeping in late and Lovino will have to take care Feliciano and Romulus until they were both willing to accept the damn fact that they're feeling well enough to stop acting so needy.

Because that's what usually happens when Lovino doesn't go places, or events, with them. They go, they come back and go to sleep, and then they act like babies in the morning complaining and nagging and whiny. Lovino pitied woman who had to take care of their children every day.

"Damned jerks." Lovino cursed, as he finally freed himself and started to cautiously cross his room to the door. They won't hear the end of it, Lovino decided if they aren't home by now. Forcing Lovino to worry about them, Lovino huffed. Maybe he could finally convince Romulus to let him cook for once. It probably wouldn't hurt to have Feliciano get him his favorite cake from the bakery either.

The house was cool, and still. Not to mention dark and Lovino kept close to the wall, hand trailing over the wall's surface. He paused a little way down the dark hallway, peering into the room that was closest to the stairs. Dull moonlit filtered through the windows, making it sort of easier to squint into Romulus's room.

It was empty. "Figures." Lovino scoffed, and continued on his way down towards the first floor of the house. Well, now he was going to wait until they get back. Like hell he was going to sleep now, Lovino was muttering obscure things about his family.

Lovino was dragging out his anger, and mild irritation. He knew that it wouldn't last for long, his negative emotions already fading into contemplative uneasiness. Despite staying out later than they should, he hoped Feliciano and Grandpa Romulus had fun, and that nothing happened to prevent them coming back. A sickening worry began to form, but Lovino shoved those thoughts away. He preferred to think that Romulus and Feliciano had a great time and forgot to head back, rather than something terrible happening to them.

Anything was easier to think of than that. But it still didn't stop the worrying thoughts that seemed to be swept out of sight, but Lovino could still feel the heavy weight of them, burning him to think about every possibility. Scoffing at himself, Lovino made it to the kitchen and paused in the doorway, squinting into the darkness. A window nearby showed the moon, covered up by thick clouds that seemed to have taken over and merged with the wispy ones. Lovino forced himself not to look outside, at the brewing storm.

Instead, he opted to light a candle. Or a few, considering he wasn't all that comfortable in the dark of the kitchen where he could trip and fall and possibly hurt himself. Lovino hummed under his breath, as he went about placing the candles in places where the light could spread evenly throughout the kitchen, enveloping everything in a warm glow.

At last when everything was lit, and Lovino felt comfortable enough to lean against the counter. Maybe he should make himself a snack while he waits, and also prepare breakfast because Lovino had an itching feeling that he was going to cook. As much as he didn't like the events leading up to that conclusion, he couldn't say that he didn't like the outcome. Lovino smirked, and grabbed a candle to go to the pantry that was beside the kitchen.

A corridor separated the pantry and the kitchen, it branching off to the side to lead to the door that went to the side of house. Lovino crossed the small spacing, pushing the pantry door open. In the least, Lovino will tell himself that he wasn't afraid of what was in the dark He shouldn't be; it was his own home. But that didn't stop the creeping fear from making Lovino hurry slightly. The pantry was cooler than the whole house, causing goose bumps to rise on Lovino's skin.

Shivering slightly, Lovino peered into the pantry at the doorway. What shall it be for breakfast? Lovino stomach growled, and Lovino closed his eyes as he tried to imagine what he did know about cooking. He could make something light, easy to make. Surely his grandpa and brother will be waking up around noon, seeing as of that it was the middle of the night and they are not back yet. There was one thing for sure Lovino wanted in his meal for his family and that was tomatoes.

The only problem is that the tomatoes are outside, in the shed located on the side of the house lining with the small garden Lovino held reign over. It wouldn't be a problem if Lovino did decide to grab some tomatoes now, but he was hungry and everything else in the pantry seemed rather unappealing. Finally making his decision, Lovino glanced down at his bare feet and said. "Fuck it."

Moving quickly, as of not to change his mind too quickly before he reached outside, Lovino unlocked the door and pulled it open. Lovino froze, the cold air swirling inside. How is it so cold? Lovino shook his head, and blamed the storm. He set the candle, which had burnt out, on the floor near the door and headed out. His arms were wrapped tightly around himself, head bowed, as he slowly made his way to the shed. Humidity and cool wind, along with the rising mist that emitting from the ground, made Lovino feel uncomfortable, onto the verge of panicking slightly.

Swallowing his fear, Lovino finally made it to the shed. His fingers made contact with the hard wood, and the door pushed open slightly. He paused, hesitantly, before continuing opening the door more boldly than before. The cringing sound of the door creaking made Lovino pause briefly before dashing forward into the shed.

His eyes adjusted quickly, and Lovino was glad that he paused a few feet into the shed, because it seemed that he would have tripped over a bucket that lay carelessly on its side in front of him. Breath short, Lovino's eyes scanned the shed once more, eyes stopping on a barrel shoved into the corner. Ah, there they are.

Needless to say, tomatoes were Lovino's favorite snack, anything, to eat. His grandfather and brother sometimes teased him about his ability to eat them raw, not cooked or steamed, and he'd childishly remark on how tasteless they were for not liking them as much as he. If they really liked tomatoes, did it matter how one ate them?

Lovino thought not.

His bare feet was scraping against the hard dirt packed floor of the shed; soft thumps marked when he walked as silently as he could. Lovino uncovered the barrel, peering into the darkness of the container. He would need to go with Feliciano to the market one of these days to get some more. He gathered a few in his arms, and carefully replaced the lid. Turning on heel, Lovino headed out without much thought, other than to avoid the bucket and shut the door firmly behind him.

Careful, Lovino made his way back to the house in the same manner of just doing it, not thinking of anything. Well, not anything important at least. Lovino was just thinking about when his brother and grandfather would return, if they did at all. But they must, simply because this has never happened before. What if they stopped at an inn, the journey back home way too much of a task for them? Lovino huffed, closing the door behind him, basking in the warmth of the house.

Then Lovino guessed he had the house to himself until then. Fuck taking care of them now, which could go to hell. "What if I went out all night? Hm?" Lovino muttered angrily to himself, going into the warm glow of the kitchen. He set the tomatoes on the counter, leaning against it, as if suddenly tired and worn. He glared at the floor. "I bet they wouldn't care…those bastards." If they don't, then Lovino didn't care.

He ran a hand through his hair, glancing at the tomatoes. Well, they weren't going to eat themselves. Lovino grabbed one, and glanced around for a knife. Spotting one hanging on the wall by the window, he made his way over to it before stopping at the window. His eyes squinted outside, the storm defiantly coming, a misty fog arising.

Lovino wondered what happened to those ships, the ones he saw earlier that night. Really, he'd almost forgotten about them, honestly. While he thought them stupid for heading to this village, he didn't want anything bad to happen to them. But in the end, Lovino shrugged it off and grabbed the knife and went back to his precious tomatoes.

Placing the tomato graciously on the counter, he made a few slicing movements in the air before pressing the blade of the knife softly into the flesh of the tomato. There was a terse silence, before he finally put enough pressure to cut through the plump fruit. When the knife hit the counter beneath the tomato, Lovino had to peel off the slice and drop it onto a clear spot. Pressing the knife into the tomato again, he looked ready to just chop it as fast as he could. Taking a deep breath, Lovino closed his eyes and opened them again. Making a mental count down, Lovino tensed his muscle, ready.

Knock-Knock-Knock

Lovino cursed, and dropped the knife beside the tomatoes. He glanced in the direction of the knocking; it was at the front door. Was it his grandfather and Feliciano? Did they really think that Lovino locked the door? Scoffing, Lovino grabbed the tomato slice and shoved it into his mouth. The knocking continued, annoyingly setting a rough pattern. "I get it, I get it, and I'm coming, dammit." Lovino hissed, knowing full well that whoever was doing the damned knocking couldn't hear him.

He opened the door cautiously, eying the person behind the door. It wasn't his grandfather, nor his little brother, but rather a young man, older than Lovino, yet younger than his grandfather. He had a cloak on, shadowing his face. His eyes caused Lovino's breath to hitch, fear instantly prickling like needles on his skin. His eyes were a deep red, and he smiled.

"Hello." His words were harsh, like he was used to speaking that way, but it seemed that he was attempting to sound careful, softer, like talking to a scared child. Which Lovino was not a scared child; he wasn't, his house gained a few travelers now a then, his grandfather sometimes offering them the guest room. But never before had Lovino seen one with such complexion. "Can I come in?" The man asked. "My name is Gilbert Beilschmidt."

Lovino considered. "…Lovino, Lovino Vargas." His grandfather wouldn't like him taking in a stranger, hell, his grandfather even told him not to open the door unless it was someone he knew. But his grandfather wasn't here, and plus, who was he to tell Lovino what to do? Feeling rebellious, with a sickening feel of worry and fear hidden away underneath the layers of carelessness, Lovino stepped aside and let the man brush past him into the house. "Are you hungry?" Lovino asked, cautiously, shutting the door behind them.

"Hell yeah." The visitor wasted no time getting comfortable, taking off his hood and Lovino awed himself over at how pale his hair was. Lovino forced himself not to stare, though, rather to step aside the man and lead him down to the kitchen. "What do you got to eat?" Lovino was starting to regret answering the door, but even he wasn't as heartless as to let a man walk around in the dark in a pit of a storm. At least, that's what he told himself.

"Ah…" Lovino stammered out, making sure there was a wide berth of space between him and Gilbert, as to speak. "I was just getting things ready for tomorrow's breakfast, but if you care too, there are tomatoes." Lovino nudged his head to the side, making Gilbert glance at the tomatoes. He blinked slowly. His red eyes still unnerved Lovino a bit.

"You like tomatoes?" Gilbert asked, as if starting a conversation. Or attempting too, seeing as of how nonchalant he was acting. Lovino made sure his back hid the knife behind him, in case something off happened. It really wasn't the man making him uncomfortable and scared as he was, but what his grandfather warned him off. With the various warnings in mind, Lovino forced himself to converse with the traveler. "A good friend of mine just loves them. I don't understand why; not that I don't eat them, because he basically forces me to eat them with him while I am with him, but they taste a bit bitter for my taste." The man chuckled, a weird sound coming from between his lips. Lovino swallowed dryly.

"Of course I like tomatoes; they're damn good." Lovino forced himself to speak steadily, amazed at how his voice didn't betray how mixed he was feeling about this whole ordeal. He picked one up and tossed it to the man, who caught it swiftly. "Your friend sounds decent." Decent enough, Lovino mused, watching carefully as the man peered at the tomato briefly, before biting into the flesh of it with a slight sound.

"Hmm." Gilbert made a sound while he ate, as if starved. If he was a traveler, as Lovino suspected, he must be hungry. One thing tugged at the conscious of Lovino's mind, and that was why didn't this man get a room at the Inn? Then again, the festival invited a lot of travelers to come, and of course the Inn couldn't hold them all. Pushing the subject aside, he brought himself to pay attention to the man speaking. "You know, these aren't that bad. Not like my friends however, the ones he holds in possession are way bitterer than this." Lovino watched, a bit disgusted, as Gilbert sucked on his fingers clean.

"Does he make his own?" Gilbert shook his head, still eating away sloppily and noisily. "Then I'm guessing he buys them." Lovino said. "He needs to have a good eye in picking them; some of them are better than most." Lovino always went with Feliciano to the market to help pick out the tomatoes. His brother was an idiot when it came to picking them, not bothering to examine them. Romulus called him picky. Picky or not, Lovino didn't care, all he cared about was getting a good tomato in the end. "But it doesn't matter, seeing as of that a tomato is a tomato."

"Tch. Try telling him that." Gilbert finally finished his small meal, wiping his mouth with his sleeve. His appearance was mostly hidden by a cloak, a coarse thing, but from the small glimpses Lovino was able to catch, he seemed pretty well dressed, despite a bit worn. "He loves the damn vegetable or fruit, or whatever, to death and is ready to bite ones head off if anyone dares say otherwise." Lovino allowed a small smile to grace his lips. Decent was right to describe this man's friend. "So do you live here alone?" Gilbert gestured around the house. "It's a pretty big place to be living alone for a kid." A rush of agitation ran through Lovino, making him frown.

"My grandfather and little brother live here with him. I do not live alone." He said at last, curtly. "They are at the festival. Were you at the festival? If so, then maybe you can tell me if it's ending or if it already ended. They are really late." Gilbert shrugged, and Lovino sighed. "Are you a traveler, at least?" Being respectfully polite as Lovino would allow, Lovino made sure not to curse in front of the man. His grandfather got angry with him when he did do that bluntly and openly. Until this man done something to deserve his anger, then Lovino shall be polite. Despite how much he hated it.

"The festival? Oh, that." Gilbert seemed to think. "It was really crowded and no one seemed really interested in going home." He said at last, nodding slowly. "When I got there, at the tavern, there was a heavy drinking contest going on." Lovino groaned internally. His grandfather would surely be competing in that. "I stayed there for a brief hour, before heading towards the Inn. It was filled and they told me to be gone, so I traveled up the hill, hoping to find an empty barn or such to sleep in for the night; anything, really, because anything is better than sleeping out in the open at night with a storm, and I saw this place. Here I am." Lovino nodded, it made sense.

"Well, I guess you can stay here." Lovino started off slowly, measuring his words by how slow they felt on his tongue. "Do you want me to show you the guest room? You must be tired." The faster Gilbert went to sleep, the easier Lovino would be able to feel around him. Gilbert took his time to consider, the thoughtful look telling Lovino that he wasn't going to answer anytime soon. Slowly, Lovino turned his back to him, eying the knife in front of him.

It had starting raining in the middle of their conversation. It pattered against the house in a pattern of a million stinging bees, the heavy hum thickening the aura of the house and settling in. Lovino had ignored it, choosing to focus on his guest, but now it was the loudest thing ever. Lightening was starting to flash, and the occasional boom of thunder came along with the rain. For some reason, Lovino didn't want to turn around to face Gilbert, something preventing him from facing the elder man again. It was an uneasy feeling, but he was scared that if he turned, Gilbert would suddenly turn into a demon and eat his soul.

Swallowing the lump, Lovino almost sighed with relief when Gilbert took a breath to speak. "No." Was all he said, and Lovino felt confusion, along with a repulsive sense of fright, began to settle in the pit of his gut. "In fact, how about we go somewhere?" His voice, which had been soft and seemingly cautious, was drenched in a cold, sweetness of something unpleasant. "It'll be fun."

"…" Lovino didn't know what to say. He was outraged that he would make such a suggestion, but still, something told him to be quiet, to listen. A feeling of ugly caution and frozen fright, Lovino stood still, wondering what he should do. His hands had long since clutched the handle of the knife. The warm glow of the candle light wasn't as comforting as it should have been, instead reminding Lovino of the fiery pierces of hell. "…Che?" He said softly.

Gilbert chuckled, dark and low. Lovino unconsciously tightened his grip on the handle of the knife. "I think you heard me, young Italian." He came up behind Lovino, and Lovino shuddered in appalled disgust as his felt Gilbert's hot breath on the back of his neck. "And plus, I don't think I'm offering you a choice." Lovino could feel the smile on his voice, on his face, his pale complexion probably masked in unpleasant glee.

There was a moment's silence, before what Lovino thought was a slow hell melting into a big cluster of panic. Lovino had turned around, quickly and jerky, not graceful at all, seemingly clumsy and slow in his movements, and pulled the knife in the air, not aiming anywhere specific. There was a sharp hiss of pain, as Gilbert flinched harshly back, bumping into the counter of the small kitchen with a painful thump. A slow cut of blood appeared on his cheeks, one of his hands already closing in on his cheek. A candle had fallen, but Lovino didn't care, only staring wide eyed at the man who seemed to be a weary traveler turning into one of hell's minions.

What Lovino had saw as a suspicious man with a wary smirk, Gilbert's face slowly contorted into a sour expression of haughty pride that Lovino had somewhat cut at. It was unnerving, to see how a pleasant expression of content can melt quickly into an evil expression, with a smear of blood upon his cheek. When he spoke again, his voice was dark, almost a growl. "I am afraid I cannot forgive that action." A fire began growing behind him, increasing his ideal look of horror.

He lunged viciously at Lovino, who quickly dropped the knife and ran to the closest exit. Almost slamming into the door to the pantry, Lovino slid over the floor and towards the side exit of the house. The man behind him cursed, but he kept speed with Lovino. Staggering out into the rain, the cool feel of stinging needles mingled with the icy fear that made Lovino want to throw up making him stumble over his feet. Luckily, he didn't fall, despite how much his limbs felt heavy and useless, weak.

The rain made it hard to see, but Lovino made due. He didn't know where he was heading, or at least he didn't think he did. But he could feel his feet moving sloppily towards the shed, his feet refusing to drag yet refusing to work properly. As the drumming of the rain made it hard to hear if the man was closer to catching him or not, Lovino had a suspicion that the man was blindly following him, and if Lovino didn't speed up, he'd surely be caught.

A rush of energy made Lovino surge forward, stumbling into the door with a grunt. There was a sharp pain that bloomed on his forehead, a groan of wood as the door was forced open from his impact. Lovino was dropped into the room, staggering a few feet before collapsing near the bucket that lay in the same crumpled manner. His world was fuzzy for a moment, lost in the swelling pain that thumped and rocked everything, and Lovino felt bile burn in the back of his throat.

He gained his senses, and he rolled over with a groan of pain, and fear. Lovino opened his eyes, which were squeezed tight, and felt something wet trickle down the bride of his nose. But he didn't worry about that now, as he sat up on his elbows. A dizzying feel of being light, as if he was watching the scene unfold from afar, Lovino watched as the man appeared in the entrance of the shed, drenched in the summer rain.

His house was on fire, a fire blooming in the kitchen. The rain thrummed loudly, the lightning and thunder mixing into the noise of everything going wrong tonight. Lovino's eyes narrowed in on the man who was grinning at him, the cut on his cheek still bleed lightly, the rain mixing into the watery mixture and running down his face in a horrifying manner.

Before he advanced, he spoke. "Ah, it seems that it's time for you to rest, Lovino." Gilbert dragged out Lovino's name in a sickeningly sweet way, and Lovino breath hitched. "Guten Nacht." His rough voice faded in Lovino's decaying awareness.

Overwhelmed, in pain and confusion, Lovino fainted.

Review, Favorite, or whatever you do on stories that you read.

-BMTM