Lovino Vargas was not a morning person. At all. So naturally, he was not happy when he woke up to the oh-so-cheerful singing of his idiota brother, Feliciano. Not that it was bad singing...it was just that it was singing that woke him up.

"Ugh..." Lovino buried his head in his pillow, his wings rustling behind him. He did not. Want. To. Get. Up. Mornings were a form of sick, twisted torture...whoever created them should die a very painful death. Very...painful...Lovino started to doze again.

Suddenly the singing paused. "Ve~Fratello~! If you don't get up you'll be late for school, ve!" Why did it always sound like Feli was eating rainbows and butterflies for breakfast instead of left over pasta? How he could be so damn cheerful in the morning, Lovino will never know...

"Shut up! I'm coming, dammit!" Lovino lifted himself up, his wings folding themselves up and pressing against his back like he always had them do, ever since he had moved in with his nonno and fratello a few years ago. He had been careful. Very. Despite the fact he had seen Feli's wings countless times and his nonno always let them out when he was at home, he never showed them his. And he had a good reason to...

Shaking his head to clear the depressing thoughts circling in his head, Lovino swung his legs over the bed. Another day in the life of Lovino Vargas. Whoop-de-fucking-doo.

Stumbling over to the dresser, he pulled out an oversized sweatshirt with the Italian flag on it (cause Italy is boss, motherfucker), and black skinny jeans. He pulled his pants on, pausing to look the mirror.

Lovino Vargas. Short, but not that short, dammit! He had dark auburn hair that hung in his golden eyes in uneven bangs, complete with a curl that stuck of the side of his head. Round cheeks that narrowed to a pointed chin. But the most noticeable feature about the young Italian standing in front of the mirror was the wings protruding from his back. Angel wings.

They were a soft cream color, except for the ends which were a bright tomato red. They came out of the top of his shoulder blades, but while any other normal Angel's wings would stand up proudly and evenly, Lovino's left wing twisted behind his back in an almost painful looking matter, while his right one was bent upwards. There were only two people that knew how Lovino got like this, and one of them was dead. The other was Lovino himself.

Scowling and shaking his head to clear these thoughts, he re-folded them and shoved his sweatshirt on, making his way to the bathroom to run a brush through his hair before making his way to the stairs.

"Ve~ I was just coming up to get you, fratello!" A younger looking Lovino chirped. Feliciano, despite what other people thought, was not Lovino's twin. If you looked closer, you could see that his eyes were more of a honey color and his hair was a light amber, with the curl coming off the other side of his head. The main difference was the fact that Feli was always. Fucking. Smiling. /Always/.

Lovino rolled his eyes, pushing past him as he moved down the stairs. Behind him the younger Italian frowned at his brothers choice of clothing. "Fratello..." He moved in front of Lovino and pouted. "How come you always wear sweatshirts, Ve? Nonno and I always get you such nice clothes!" He whined, blocking Lovino's exit from the stairs as he stared at him.

Lovino glared at him furiously. "I'm hungry, dammit! Let me through!" He snapped, ignoring the question completely.

Feliciano pouted again but let him through. "...Ok~! Pasta's on the counter! I'm going to start walking~ Luddy promised to walk me, Ve~" Lovino gagged as Feliciano giggled sweetly.

'Damn potato bastard... Violating my little brother!' Lovino gave Feliciano a death glare, causing the younger to cower slightly. "I don't like that potato fucker," Lovino growled darkly.

"Fratello! Don't call Luddy mean names! He's been so nice to me, Ve~" Feliciano whined, attaching himself to Lovino's arm like some god damned leech as Lovino marched into the kitchen.

"He has not! He brainwashed you into acting like a German!" Lovino proclaimed, snatching the pasta off the counter and tossing it into the microwave for a few seconds as he got his backpack off the floor and zipped it up.

"B-but...but fratello..." Lovino then made the mistake of looking. Well, fuck. Feli was giving his best puppy dog face (that damn Alfred must've taught him), eyes wide and pleading as his bottom lip stuck out and trembled slightly, as if he was about to burst into tears.

"...fine. You can walk with him. But I swear, if he makes a move on you, I'll kill him!" Lovino shouted after his brother, who had left as soon as he said yes out the door, squealing like a little girl. Fuck. Why did he agree?

Grabbing the now hot plate of pasta, Lovino swung his backpack over his shoulder as he started shoveling it into his mouth. Any person that didn't know the Italian would be amazed that such a small boy could eat like that, but hey, if a Vargas wants to eat, he's going to fucking eat.

Lovino threw the plate in the sink, checked his appearance one more time in the mirror, and threw the door open...

...to come face to face with someone he had never seem before. "Hola, neighbor~ wanna walk with me to school today? I'm Antonio~!" Lovino stared at the tan figure with white and emerald green wings in front of him, feeling his cheeks heat up. Shit. This was going to be a long day.