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"No, I don't want this, I told you I don't want this!" Lovino exclaimed, shoving his plate away with enough force that the contents on the porcelain surface slid off onto the table. The Italian quickly fled from the American's side as he crawled into his bed and wrapped himself in a slew of blankets. He wanted nothing to do with Alfred or the food he brought him, feeling his heart grow heavy as the urge to cry grew stronger.
Alfred sighed, "and I told you, I couldn't find any authentic Italian dishes around here."
"Well then - well then-!" He was so overcome with emotion that he could hardly get his own words out, gasping in air between each syllable. "I don't want it!" He spat, covering his head with the blankets.
Alfred was getting a little frustrated. Ever since they had arrived at the hotel to prepare themselves for another meeting, Lovino had been throwing fit after fit. First it was the fact there was a mix up with the hotels, then that they were having seating issues with the meeting location itself, then that he forgot something important at home, as well as the fact that his flight had been cramped and uncomfortable and now, finally, none of the food was familiar enough to him. Which seemed to be cause enough to build up another emotional outburst. How did Alfred get caught up in this? You might be asking yourself. Well, he had decided to insert himself into this situation, back at the airport when they finally arrived at their destination. Seeing Lovino distressed and by himself had been cause enough to have him tag along. Even if he was yelled at and pushed aside at every twist and turn.
"You can't sit in bed and eat nothing. You don't have a stove here to cook anything for yourself, so unfortunately you're gonna have to eat other people's cooking," Alfred replied through grit teeth.
"That's not cooking, that's microwaved dog shit!"
"Listen, I'm just trying to look out for you. Would you just eat something?!"
"WELL I DIDN'T ASK FOR IT AND I DON'T NEED IT!" Lovino screeched, pushing the blankets aside to move forward and get in Alfred's face. Which didn't deter the American at all, he simply stood there unfazed as he let the older male enter his personal space. Lovino was panting slightly, hazel eyes glaring into cerulean ones defiantly. "Don't - don't even think about yelling at me again! You got that?! I'm the older one here so show some respect and fuck off !"
Alfred honestly considered it for a moment because he was getting pretty sick and tired of the verbal abuse, but he held his ground. Not budging or flinching in any way, shape or form. Lovino's act was a bluff, there was always something hidden underneath if you were able to dig deep enough. Anger was a tactic used to push people away and it was a pretty damn good one. Lovino clung to it because it worked, except on him and he could tell that was frustrating the Italian on more than one level.
"Tell me what's wrong," he said after taking a deep breath to calm his nerves and giving them both a long moment of silence. Lovino returning to his blankets as if he was a child, attempting to hide from the monsters of the world.
"The only thing that's wrong here is you and that shit sitting on the plate behind you," was the reply Alfred received. The Italian's quivering bottom lip, a tell tale sign that he was close to crying. "I thought I told you to get the fuck out."
"You've eaten food like this before, sure you didn't like it, but you've done it. Why are you so wound up right now?"
"I'm not wound up," he sobbed, rubbing his face with a corner of his blanket.
" Right… " Alfred whispered as he crawled into the bed to cup Lovino's cheeks, bringing his face out of the sheets so that he could kiss his forehead. "What do you feel? I can't read minds, you know." He didn't get anything but a whimper in reply as Lovino reached up to gently take hold of his wrists. As if not wanting him to part from him. "I know things haven't been going your way and I realize that's really hard on you, when you don't know what's happening or where you're going. That it's the little things that build up and you feel you have no control," Alfred started, smiling when Lovino finally looked at him without a smidge of anger. Like the mask he was wearing before finally cracked wide open, giving way to the hot tears streaming down his face. "But I'm here, right? I want to help you feel better, you don't have to sit here by yourself or be upset by yourself."
"I'm sorry…" he finally whispered out after a long moment of simply staring at each other.
"I know. It's okay, it's always okay," he whispered, watching as Lovino finally turned away from his gaze to lay his head on his chest and sob. The American pulled him close as he sat himself fully atop the bed, rubbing Lovi's back with gentle soothing circles as he wept.
"This is stupid."
"It's not stupid. Your emotions aren't stupid and you're not stupid either."
"Yes I am, I'm stupid, I'm useless, I can't do-" Alfred placed a hand over his mouth to silence him.
"Positive things, let's say positive things. You're hardworking, you're an amazing cook, you can dance like no other," Alfred started, watching Lovino lean back to roll his eyes at the last one. Al's hand was still on his mouth, but he could feel the smile tugging at Lovino's lips against his palm even if he couldn't see it. "You're amazing at gardening, you're sure as hell better at drawing than me."
"Now that's just unfair to you," Lovino said, his voice muffled, but the small laugh that followed was all Al needed to grin himself.
"How dare you, what are you trying to say?"
"I'm not saying anything," he said, wiping the now drying streaks from his face.
"That's a lie," Alfred teased, flopping down onto the bed and dragging Lovino to lay next to him, who seemed to be calming down now. Taking in deep breaths as he lay there, closing his eyes to better focus on the rise and fall of his chest rather than his own anxiety.
Alfred let a quiet moment pass between them, not saying a single thing as he watched the older nation relax beside him. His own eyes eventually drifting upwards where he took in the crappy popcorn ceiling and the dingy fan that they found out didn't work the moment they stepped in. He turned his gaze back though when he heard Lovino laughing to himself, the Italian shifting his body on the bed to face him.
"What's so funny?" Alfred grinned.
"You."
"Why am I funny?" He asked in amusement, raising a brow.
"Cause I just thought of you eating that slop over there with a smile and thinking it's good," he chuckled again.
"Hey, with enough ketchup, I can make anything taste good." Lovino rolled his eyes. "Don't discredit the power of a good condiment."
"Americans," Lovino whispered under his breath, before shaking his head. "You're an idiot."
"Back to the insults, huh?"
"I didn't mean it like that."
Alfred inched closer, "then how did you mean it? Maybe you meant I'm cute~"
Lovino snorted and shoved him playfully, before getting up. Not giving him an answer to his guess as he moved to get his shoes on, Alfred shooting up in concern as he watched Lovino get ready to leave. Wondering what was going on until, their eyes met again. "Let's find something actually edible, this time I'm choosing."
"Are you sure?"
"What? Now you're against me eating? You wouldn't shut up about it before," Lovi huffed, shoving his hands in his pockets.
"No, it's not that. It's just...do you feel like you can leave?"
"I'm not made of glass." When Alfred still looked worried, he sighed. "Yes, I'm fine. Let's just get this over with, okay? I wanna take a siesta."
Alfred's expression changed to one of relief, standing up and getting himself ready. Quickly following Lovino as he opened the door to exit, though he paused to grab the keys they almost forgot as they left. He really didn't need to add that on top of everything else. For now Lovino's mood had improved and he hoped to keep it that way.