Germany moved over to Italy's side, propping his head up with his hand. "H-he's not responding!"
"Of course he's not f*cking responding!" Romano yelled, clawing the roots of his hair.
"Well stop standing around complaining and do something useful, verdammit!" Germany barked, raising his voice. Romano stood frozen, his eyes wide. "CALL AN AMBULANCE!" And with that, Romano disappeared round the corner. Germany could hear his muffled and breaking voice talking through the wall. He looked to Italy in despair. "Why..." he whispered.
"They're on their way." Romano reappeared, combing his fingers through his fringe. "But they'd better hurry the f*ck up...he's fading quickly." the man clapped a hand to his mouth, looking to his sickly brother, fat tears clouding his vision.

The ambulance came in time, and both Germany and Romano had to watch Italy being lifted onto a stretcher, wheeled into the back of the van. The whole journey to the hospital, the two men would exchange glances-and unlike their usual irritated or angry glares, both shared looks of genuine sympathy and concern, each, in turn surprised the other was capable of expressing such an emotion.

Upon arriving at the hospital, Italy was received by several doctors, off of whom crowded round the stretcher and wheeled it off before neither Romano or Germany could reach them. They stood in the entrance, watching the group turn the corner and disappear fully from sight.
"Well, he's out of our hands now." Germany sighed. He moved over to the front desk and gave in Italy's details accordingly. Upon reaching Romano again, he said "They'll call us if there's any news." Romano nodded, plastering a smile on his lips. But Germany could see how pale his face had become and how dark and sunken the rings around his eyes had grown. "Come on." he soothed, patting the other's shoulder gently. "Lets take you the cafe-it might just take your mind off things."

Two hours passed and still there had been no news. Romano held the polystyrene coffee cup with a trembling hand. He would occasionally steal anxious glances to Germany, of which were responded with a cold nod from the other. Then, finally, Germany's phone sounded. Romano's grip instantly tightened on the cup polystyrene snapping under his grasp. His eyes grew wide, watching Germany intently. Germany's eyes darted back and forth on the table, listening to the voice on the other side of the phone. He clicked off the phone, placing it on the table. "Schizer..." he whispered.
"What did they say?" Romano urged, leaning over the table. When Germany did not respond, the man banged his fist on the table, making the plates and the cups jump slightly. "WHAT DID THEY SAY!"
"T-they say...he's probably not going to make it..." Germany said, barely audible. Romano felt a dark sensation swirling in his stomach. He sat, unable to even think for a moment, before springing to his feet, sprinting out of the cafe. Germany rushed after him.
"Where the hell are you going!" he called.
"To see my brother, idiot!" the man snapped back. "He's not going to die on me this easily!"

End of ch 3

A/N: Sorry this was a short chapter~hopefully I'll be able to wrap everything up in the next one! But for now, the question is, is Italy going to make it?