"Lovi~ It's time to wake up," came an extremely annoying voice. "We've got school today!" Lovino grunted in response and lashed an arm out, feeling a grim satisfaction when Antonio groaned as it hit his stomach.

"I'm not going to school, tomato bastard," he snapped. "I don't want to."

"Come on, Lovi," Antonio said. "You can meet people today and make new friends! You're going to want to make friends if you're gonna live with us."

"I'm not going to be here for long," Lovino snapped. "I've gotten used to the fact that nobody wants to try and handle me."

"Lovi, my parents can handle problem children," Antonio said softly. "They've done it before..."

"You and your parents don't know anything about my problems!" Lovino snapped, finally getting up, just so he could get away from that bastard. He grabbed a shirt and a pair of pants that he didn't bother glancing at, and stormed off to the bathroom. He got dressed, and when he looked up at the mirror was shocked with his appearance. His expression could be described as "deer in the headlights," and his hair was unkempt and messy. But that god damn curl still didn't blend. He had bags under his eyes. To sum it up, he looked like hell.

He turned away from the mirror. He had been trying to push them away. He didn't want to get close to any of these families. Everybody always loved Feliciano better than him. It was proven in how he had been put in a home in Germany first, right away, and had stayed there this whole time. Lovino had been passed from home to home, and knew that nobody would want him. It was only a matter of time before Antonio realized that Lovino wasn't worth the effort. Then he would give up, and Lovino would be alone again.

He sighed and grabbed a hairbrush, deciding to at least try and tame that mess on his head. After a while, he finally managed to look presentable on the outside, and he stepped out of the bathroom. He saw Antonio waiting there. The older boy stared for a moment. "Aww, Lovi, you're so cute when you brush your hair!" he said.

"Shut up, tomato bastard," Lovino snapped, feeling his cheeks burn red.

The next thing he knew, the Spaniard was poking his cheek and saying, "Aww, you look a tomato, Lovi!" Lovino smacked his arm.

"Shut up! I told you not to call me that!" the angry Italian snapped.

With that, they went to school. It wasn't quite as bad as Lovino thought it would be. It was worse. Rumors had spread, and they were nasty. They ranged from saying that he had killed his own parents, to saying that his parents started the fire because they didn't want to live with such a disappointment as a son.

The worst part came when Lovino was opening his locker, and several dildos fell out. On the inside of the door someone had painted "Heard you like it up the ass!" Lovino froze and stared at the mess on the floor for a moment, shaking. Then he turned and ran. He didn't care where he was going, he just wanted to get as far away from the hell they called a school.

Finally he ended up alone in a park, sitting on a bench with his arms wrapped around his knees. He couldn't hold back the tears that started falling down. He was pathetic. He should have been the one who died. The fire was his fault, his parents should never have died.

Lovino moped for a while longer before he finally got up and started walking back to his foster home. As he made the journey, an art store caught his eye. Feli had always been good at art, but Lovino sucked compared to him. But it wasn't the artistic prospect that compelled him to push open the door and wander in. Art stores generally had razors, right? For certain projects one might need a razor or two. Lovino had heard of people cutting their wrists to help with the emotion pain they had to suffer. Finally he found the shelf that was home to the razors, and reached out to grab a box. Anything would be better than the hell he was living through now.

I am so so so so sorry about how late this is, and how short as well. I've been going through a lot of shit lately. Anyway, I'll try to upstate this and my other stories more often. Review for love!